#hardest intro of all time perhaps!

[hartigays]

back on my bullshit

[schismusic]

In the shadow of the horns: meditations on Team Ico's works – 2½. Project: Robot

Okay, there's only so much mileage I can get out of less than these two minutes of footage – even though it's, ahem, actual gameplay, which I believe is a mystifying statement at best. This, and I should probably be talking about The Last Guardian first, right? All of this is true. I raise you this: episode 1 was about Shadow of the Colossus, as opposed to Ico, so I've already set a precedent for being weird about the order this is going to take. Secondly, and more importantly, it's going to take a really long while before I go back to The Last Guardian. Not because I did not like the game: quite the opposite, actually, I thought it was stunning, but more on that when I actually write about it. It's just going to take a lot of concentration to replay it while taking notes and trying to ignore the sounds of my PS4 lifting off as the game runs. So let's focus on this much less electricity-intensive task first, shall we?

It's some dude (gender neutral) with a mask who climbs on top of some gigantic robot, goes on top of its head and has it detach, taking flight to avoid some kind of massive storm approaching. It's like a cross between Dormin's darkness and space debris as seen on the rings of Saturn/an asteroid belt. The head and its occupant are however quickly taken away by the storm itself and that's where the trailer ends. Some have speculated that this might already be a gameplay loop on its own, but – given the sheer amount of setpieces displayed by The Last Guardian – I'm inclined to think the exact opposite. My hopes are as follows: not only is this not representative of the final gameplay loop, but this is literally just the game's intro, or something.

Check this out: what if it's like Shadow of the Colossus, wherein perhaps there's a repeating gameplay loop of sorts that focuses heavily on exploration (of some deeper, fuller world than that of SotC – or maybe something even emptier, better conveyed through more powerful technology), but with the added narrative thing from The Last Guardian thrown in for good measure. Sort of à la Death Stranding when it actually starts gaining steam, in a way, but with the added Ueda thing where everything is melancholy and faraway and stunningly silent and meditative. Which is actually why I called this series a set of meditations, of all things – these are games that invite a level of thought that doesn't necessarily take the usual steps that Aristotle-based logic – for lack of a better word that isn't "Western", which one could see as sort of a cop-out in this scenario – would deem indispensable.

Such an approach, for starters, would explain the use of English in the spoken bits of the game. I've been playing Outer Wilds lately (thank you @alexswordsman for insisting that I give it a shot – you were right all along) and see, now that's a game that sounds like a solid peer to what I hope this one big ass robot game turns out to be. The idea is that the so-called plot of the game may be lived entirely in retrospect, but keeping the usual cryptic approach that Ueda and the team seem to favor in their storytelling. So there's this dude (gender neutral) who has to repair their robot, or somehow traverse a landscape, and in the meantime they come to learn… something, I guess, about who was here before? Or maybe just who was hit the hardest by that debris storm from the trailer, mere hours ago? Who knows, not me, I'm just speculating because I have way too much free time on my hands. Would love to hear you guys' thoughts on the matter. Gender neutral, of course.

I realize I'm still trying to think of Ueda as a creative, after all of these years, in one of two ways:

he's doing his usual thing, and he's thinking within his own box.

he's looking out to other developers in attempts to make a mishmash of random cool titles that might have interesting elements.

The problem with both of these lines of thought is that it makes no sense to close off one or the other. I can't shake the feeling that there will be, simultaneously, more and less than what I've discussed above. Again, this entire post is nothing more than a bunch of speculation and opinions piled together into a trenchcoat, but I'm still feeling way too up in the air about this. The one thing I'm sure of is, I am really excited about this. My best hope for this is not that it finds its market niche, or its "target audience", or any of that BMA crap. I just hope it's a good Ueda game, one that strikes emotional chords with the same grace and poise and elegance as the others do.

Now for another robot song, and it's the last one, I swear.

[thejackofalltrades42069]

Get great at what you do (you’re already spending hours doing it).

Image taken from “Vagabond” by Takehiko Inoue.

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Intro.

A few months ago, I was talking to a friend and thought about why you should always do a good job at work or at school/ university (in the case of people studying). I guess it’s not a bad idea to make a post about it 😊

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Explanation.

Most people spend most of their time working or studying. Many people do the bare minimum work for whatever reason, some are too immature to realize what’s good for them, some are distracted a lot of time on social media an internet, others are talking too much with their colleagues, some are doing many other things like shopping online, cooking/ doing whatever at home while they should be working (when working from home), some didn’t sleep enough and have no energy for work, some are all of those together. 

If we’re spending most time at work and if we’re doing the bare minimum, we’re not getting good at what we do most of the time. After work, most people are also not trying to get good at a specific task or learning things.

If we’re being lazy or too distracted with other things at work, it’s most likely we’re not good at doing other things either because we’re developing a habit of doing the bare minimum and being distracted all the time.

What I believe is best for anyone is to try and do a good job and create good habits while working. If we don’t do this, it’s likely we will become a bunch of incompetents overtime. I mean, we’re already spending 7 or more hours at work, even if someone doesn’t like their job, they can try and do a good job, get good at doing things overall, then change jobs. Many skills are universal, if someone learns to do a good job at a company, it’s likely they’ll be better for a different job at a different company because many skills and habits transfer from doing one thing to doing another thing.

In short, we can get very skilled at what we do, we just need to focus and work hard for about 3-4 hours daily, then take it easy the rest of the day (still working of course). It’s not so easy to change our habits to achieve this, but it’s worth the shot, being great at what we do is a great reward from working hard and at the very least it’s useful to get other opportunities like jobs, or to have our own businesses or projects. While doing this, we also develop an ease for learning new things.

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What are some habits to achieve this?

Sleep early, have energy in the morning, create habits that help sleep early.

Don’t use your cellphone before work, since it’s an addiction, opening social media, chats, or other internet sites will only make us want to continue using it. Try to use it only during long breaks and after work. Same applies if we’re on a computer opening social media or other internet sites. We can turn off the sound and vibration and put it inside a drawer to avoid wanting to use it.

Try to get the hardest work done early. If we do a good amount of work during the first 4 hours, we’ll already have worked more than many people at many jobs. We can take it easy after that.

Take short breaks (5-15 minutes) before being too tired (perhaps every 60 or 90 minutes), this helps with productivity, laying down or taking a walk for 5 to 15 mins are both very helpful for resting, then getting back to work (don’t use the cellphone during short breaks, this will only keep draining energy).

Don’t think about the huge amount of work that you have, just do it one thing at a time. Make a list if it’s necessary, prioritize the list, and do the tasks in order.

Try to have better management and do a good planning for your meals. Just eating anything isn’t the best idea, eating healthy is best for feeling better and staying more productive.

Avoid listening to music while working (especially, early in the day), perhaps leave music only for the second part of the day when tired/ weary, and try to just listen to low volume music with no lyrics. Music makes us feel good because we’re releasing dopamine when we listen to it, but it can make us dependent to that good feeling, and, listening to too much music will make us feel tired later the same or next day.

You don’t have to work hard daily, if you’re really tired or if there’s not a lot of work that day, take longer breaks, relax, try to get a good night’s sleep.

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Conclusion.

I don’t mean with this that we should always be working hard, but, since there’s a lot of time being invested at work or studying, we can try to get great at what we’re doing, we can learn a lot from different situations and from other people, and it results in many more benefits and advantages than disadvantages.

[froggi1337]

Was a little anxious to post this, but here goes.

Who’s your favorite character to write?

Perhaps my favorite character to write was my Mage: The Awakening character: Jonas Moore, shadowname, “John Doe”. He was a rookie cop in the wrong place at the wrong time with his mentor and partner. They walked into a wizard trap and got their shit fucked up, Jonas surviving as unscratched as he did only because his mentor was in front of him as the entered. This awoke his mage powers, however, he awoke in a coma and spent the next week trapped in a world of nightmares. He'd wake up and vanish to parts unknown, returning anonymously with the shadowname “John Doe” some years later to investigate his partner's death. I had a lot of freedoms with that character I hadn't been able to experience through a free-form social media roleplay on Formspring (if anyone remembers that), and I think the game experience has a lot to do with my fondly remembering of this character more than anything.

An alternate take I didn't want to throw out was: My favorite character to write was perhaps Virgil Wayne in a JoJo's Bizarre Adventure roleplay called Port Holiday. It was my first positive roleplay experience after The Cards, even if it was mired by the usual internet drama that follows those kinds of open rp communities. But I digress, I look back on Virgil and the things I got to do there very fondly and I hope to find an experience half as good as the one I had there one day soon. My experience roleplaying Mage beats out Port Holiday mostly because I didn't have my own story arcs indirectly shelved by my friends in my tabletop game as opposed to the fandom roleplay which actively ignored me.

Who’s your least favorite to write?

Off the top, it's Joseph Johnson, aka, the Ace of Hearts. He's always been such a nothing bro character, and I've tried to overhaul him multiple times in the past but getting stuff to stick has been difficult. I've got so far as to consider shelving or outright scrapping the character, and giving his role to one of my more capable characters. Then again, it isn't like I haven't made progress with Joe's development... I just wish his fleshing out process would go smoother!

Who’s your favorite character overall?

This was one fluctuates quite a bit, especially these days as my little universes of characters slowly expand. But honestly, I'd be a fool if I didn't acknowledge my roots and admit I come back to my favorite dirtbag, Francis “Fran” Daniels. She's been with me since I was a wee child, and even transitioned alongside me irl and fellow mainstay OC Victoria Wayne.

Which character(s) do you love to hate?

There's one clear winner by a mile, it's Alan McGregor. I wanted to make Alan as obviously toxic with his personality as possible, for a villain like him. He's taking advantage of a lot of people and a lot of them don't even require his super intrusive telepathy powers. I lifted inspiration from the big name Republican politicians of my time (yes, especially Trump).

What’s the easiest thing to write for you?

I like to think if nothing else that I'm quite good at openers. I love to try and set decent scenes for readers, gives me a chance to build a new scene and place new and interesting characters together that likely haven't met before. What's not to love?

What’s the hardest thing to write for you?

The moment we go beyond an intro, I lose track of the story. Weaving a narrative is much harder than one might make it look. The establishing shot of the story is great and all, but I also have to write the rest of the story and that's the hardest part for me.

Do you plan everything out before you write or do you sit down and go with the flow?

No, my writing sessions have always been more impromptu; although, my goal this year's to improve my relationship with work. I want to try and actively work on planning out what I'm writing more often (not starting not lol).

What songs do you listen to get in the writing mood?

I usually put on a scramble, although suggestions are welcome! Additionally, it's really easy for me to write for Fran when I put on 'Sound of Silver' by LCD Soundsystem or Van Halen/any 80's dad rock. Alan is easier to write or otherwise plan out in my head to musicians like Kanye West or MF DOOM.

Do you have songs that you associate with certain characters?

Buddy I've debated making whole playlists lol

How do you get around a writer’s block, if anything?

Weed.

Is there a certain type of character you favor writing over the others?

The snide bad boy with a soft streak is a personal favorite of mine, I'm also a fan of guy who's a deranged bad ass in spite of the circumstances against them. I love a good underdog story!

What is one character you love but rarely/never write?

I love Tomas O'Valen! My beloved red mask wearing boy rarely sees the sun anymore, and while I'm sure that's fine and dandy for him mommy says he needs his vitamin d

Is there one character that always fights you when you try writing them?

I get a lot of resistance from Leon, I think it's because I've been kind of anxious about him being a little bland compared to everyone else. Compared to everyone else, he feels less finished but I'm not to worried. His part in the story of the world he's in comes much later.

What is your go-to ‘self-indulgent’ genre of writing (such as comfort, angst, enemies to friends, etc.)?

You'd have to find my F-List for that one, and I don't give that out to just anyone I'll have you know.

I kid, I kid. I'm very self-indulgent about fight scenes, I'm that kid always banging their actions figures together. Pushing them to their limits, seeing how much I can make them physically and mentally break each other. Plus seeing two characters at odds go against one another like good vs evil is always fine, even if the characters aren't always morally black & white. Because who cares, this motherfucker carries six pistols because he watched 'The Boondock Saints' in theaters and thought that one guy was “cool as fuck.”

What two characters did you never expect to work together?

I didn't expect Tomas and Fran to have as much equal ground to stand on. Sure, in-lore Tomas knew Francis' grandfather and father but she was never fond of those people (especially her grandpa, he was a sourpuss in his old age by the time they met). And yet, Tomas can be considered a sort of family biographer by now, having personally known and befriended 3+ generations of Fran's family.

What’s one writing weakness you want to work on?

I need more creative stamina or energy while writing, if this questionnaire has taught me anything. Once I'm started it's great, I'm on a roll and I can bang out a start in a heartbeart, most the time. However, it becomes quite clear when I start to lose steam while writing, and I want to work on that. If only to at least hide my exhaustion on paper.

Are you prone to leaving unfinished WIPs or do you strive to finish everything you write?

In hindsight, not as many one might think lol

What is one theme/storyline/idea you wish to write but never have?

Well, a FULL story is any kind of answer. But I jest, I want to write sci-fi. More specifically mecha, I absolutely adore Gundam and I'd love to build dioramas and write little stories centered around them. Hell, I'd love a shot at building my own original setting for a mecha sci-fi. I have a little bit of one Aon paper, but I put in on the back burner due to the scope being a little overwhelming for me at this stage of my writing career.

What is one story idea you have in your head right now?

Francis Daniels throws Drake Morrison in front of a train lol

Random Writer Questions

Can be for canon, non-canon, fanfics, RPs, OCs, or anything in between.

Who’s your favorite character to write?

Who’s your least favorite to write?

Who’s your favorite character overall?

Which character(s) do you love to hate?

What’s the easiest thing to write for you?

What’s the hardest thing to write for you?

Do you plan everything out before you write or do you sit down and go with the flow?

What songs do you listen to get in the writing mood?

Do you have songs that you associate with certain characters?

How do you get around a writer’s block, if anything?

Is there a certain type of character you favor writing over the others?

What is one character you love but rarely/never write? 

Is there one character that always fights you when you try writing them?

What is your go-to ‘self-indulgent’ genre of writing (such as comfort, angst, enemies to friends, etc.)?

What two characters did you never expect to work together?

What’s one writing weakness you want to work on?

Are you prone to leaving unfinished WIPs or do you strive to finish everything you write?

What is one theme/storyline/idea you wish to write but never have?

What is one story idea you have in your head right now?

&- Free slot, ask your own question here.

[fairiechannie]

studyblr?? do u still exist??

i was a kid on this account with undiagnosed adhd (fun fact! it's still undiagnosed!!) who had the world's hardest time with doing literally anything consistently. now i'm 21 and at least figured out why i had such a hard time!! doing my best but with really cool opportunities like studying abroad for a year??? idk either tbh i feel like a child wandering through the woods 90% of the time. anyway, welcome to a brand new intro to my studyblr!!

my name is sky (they/them), i'm 21 and i just finished my first year at uni majoring in marketing and photography! i'm also a singer-songwriter (formally a music tech major, i would've graduated this year but i had a crisis), you can find some music (mostly covers) on my IG and TikTok: @/apricotskies

i'm a huge kpop stan, and i collect ZB1 matthew's photocards! my favourite groups are ZB1, tripleS, onlyoneof, p1harmony, lesserafim, NCT, and more! other artists i love are renee rapp, one direction + their solo music (i'm personally a louis girl!), sabrina carpenter, etc! like i said, i'm a singer-songwriter, so i also play both acoustic and electric guitar!

i've recently gotten back into writing, so i've been doing that in my spare time just for fun! comes along with writing some more songs recently that perhaps will never see the light of day lmao but i also bought some books recently that i'm hoping to read!! ('what you are looking for is in the library' & 'before the coffee gets cold') other than that, i spend a lot of my time watching kdramas and bls! atm i'm watching lovely runner with some friends, but i started watching mr. plankton last week! i spend some of my time journaling, which is a habit (?? adhd and habits don't go well together ;-;) i've picked up in the last few months. i also bought a hobonichi planner to use bc i heard it's good - i used to bullet journal but i simply do not have the time or energy to do that these days tbh

anyway, i don't think i'll post much on here, but i wanted to post something for the first time in a while! i'll be busy studying my business units in korea next year which is crazy - for the first time i'm doing something i dreamed of doing in high school!! it hasn't set in yet, i still have so much! to do! to get it all happening (i never get a break apparently!!)

hope everyone is doing okay! i might update later on, but pls remember you don't have to know what you're doing - i have big dreams that are unrelated to my degree, and i literally had no clue what i was doing for the entirety of 2023. i promise everything is worth the time and effort, even the struggles!

thanks for reading dear studyblr, a lot has changed since i was a kid (and i still feel like a kid)

[motownfiction]

psychology

After Sadie declares her major in psychology, Daniel decides to take an intro class, just to see a little bit about what his girl does during the day. He needs the lower distribution credit anyway. Why not spend it getting to know about Sadie’s work?

The first test is rote. Mostly memorization. Freud, Jung, Skinner. Oedipus, animus, and conditioning boxes. It’s boring, but it’s nothing Daniel can’t handle. Maybe that’s why Sadie’s studying this stuff. It’s easy. Fill in the blank. Respond to the prompt in twelve sentences. Daniel made it through AP English a year and a half ago. He can make it through this now.

And that’s exactly how he feels until he can’t anymore.

It happens around Halloween. They’re starting a new unit in class. This one is on childhood development. The professor gives a lecture on some guy named Erik Erikson, which just sounds narcissistic, as far as Daniel is concerned. Apparently, this guy has an eight-step theory about how kids develop into adults. So, like always, Daniel takes out a paper and pen and intends to write things down.

By the end of the lecture, he will have taken down zero notes.

Trust vs. distrust.

When we’re babies, we depend on our parents to take care of us. If they do, we can trust people. If they gamble away your grocery money, drink until they’re vomiting at the foot of your crib, and make you responsible for your little sister, all before you’re three years old, then maybe you run away from Vicky St. John when she says she could fall in love with you. That’s not where love comes from. Not from popular girls in messy bedrooms. Love doesn’t come from anywhere unless you make it.

Autonomy vs. Shame and Doubt.

When we’re toddling about, we learn to do things on our own. But what if we do too much on our own? What if we learn how to feed ourselves before we learn to count to ten? What if we get really good at braiding our sister’s long dark hair before our fourth birthday? What if we learn that to make Mommy happy when Daddy makes her sad, we sing “A Big Hunk O’Love” as loud as we can?

Initiative vs. Guilt.

Once we get old enough to play with other kids, we open ourselves up to their opinions, their rejections. And it feels good when your friends want to share their toys and candy with you. It’s just that it feels less good when the other kids hold things over your head on the playground because you’re too short to reach them. You’re the shortest kid in class, boy or girl. They make it feel like it’s your fault your limbs won’t grow. Like it’s your fault you can’t jump the way they can.

And maybe, perhaps, if you had a father to show you.

But you had to wipe up his Budweiser stain to get here this morning.

Daniel can’t make it through the other stages. He’s listening, but it all sounds familiar. And it sounds like he’s on the wrong side of every binary, of every opposition. How is he supposed to walk through the halls knowing that? Knowing that he’s broken, and there’s nothing he could have done?

Later, Sadie tells him that’s just it.

There’s nothing you could have done, she says. But you’re not broken. A theory is a theory, but you’re Daniel. 

He’s Daniel. And there’s a lot of good about being Daniel. Being Daniel means pushing through the hardest obstacles a kid can imagine, laughing like rain on the roof, running fast just to prove you can, and loving the people who always loved you.

He’s Daniel.

He made himself that way.

(part of @nosebleedclub june challenge -- day xxi! yes, i am still behind, but i think it’s time for me to at least pretend to go to sleep)

[mgparker]

keep your eyes on me

joel miller x f!reader

warnings: ANGST, stab wound, mentions of violence and blood, lots of violence actually, protective!joel, reader being moody and angsty, some gore (wound details), inaccurate stuff probably (definitely), inconsistencies for sure

word count: 6.63k UNEDITED

here’s the full version of ‘keep your eyes on me.’ i apologize in advance for the reader’s moody and angsty monologue in the intro and all that follows after. prepare the tissues?

The mission was simple.

A quick in and out, a regular check for supplies in one of the surrounding buildings of the QZ and that was it. Nothing you hadn’t done countless times already, even before Joel entered your life, and it was relatively easy.

The hardest part was sneaking past the supervised borders and even that had been figured out when you started paying one of the guards to turn a blind eye whenever you went out for a run.

It just so happened that this run had to occur in the smack-dab middle of a feud you’d found yourself in simply because you associated yourself with Joel Miller and Tess Servopoulos. 

It didn’t help that Joel, in particular, rarely associated himself with anyone at all. Perhaps that’s what made you a prime target in his dispute with his former partner Robert Navarro. 

Because Joel went out of his way to join your side more often than either of you cared to admit, it made sense that, in turn, Robert’s fury would extend to you. 

That’s how you found yourself a little more jumpy than usual, on edge as you scoured the few abandoned buildings in the far east of Boston that hadn’t been touched by common smugglers… or you. 

A crash tore you out of your compulsive thinking and you sprang into action before you could even blink. 

The end of your newly sharpened blade found Joel standing on the other side of it, a scorned look on his face mixed with a hint of annoyance. 

“You could’ve taken my eye out,” he grumbled with a slight shove as he moved past.

It wasn’t enough for you to lose your footing, but you scowled at him anyway. “Don’t expect me to apologize for your foolishness.”

“Never,” he called back from the next room. 

You pocketed the knife and sighed. 

Despite your banter, you’d consider Joel a good friend. And even that was an understatement; despite the code of living you’d created and stuck to since life had been uprooted and torn from beneath you nearly two decades ago.

Truth is, since the moment you met him, Joel Miller somehow dug his way into your rigid heart, along with Tess in some ways, but Joel was different. You weren’t sure if it was the hardened exterior that masked a broken person underneath, much like you, or something else, but it didn’t take long for his acquaintance to become friendly and then something more. 

Like it or not, the warm feeling you’d get whenever Joel would reveal a new piece of himself, no matter how meticulously small, or when he’d simply exist around you was something you couldn’t ignore.

And nowadays, as the world was quickly becoming even colder and harsher, it was a feeling you found yourself unwilling to let go.

It was near impossible to find something that inspired feelings that didn’t match the gloominess and grayness of the world around you, and now that you had, it was like a drug.

But if his knee-jerk reaction to pulling away from any type of affection or semblance of love is any indication, Joel Miller could not and would not ever feel as deeply for you as you did for him. 

And though it left a painful lump in your throat, you’d accepted it long ago.

For now, you’d stick to the passive aggressive flow you two seemed to fall into in each other’s company. It was how you two had first treated each other before you got involved in each other’s lives and it wasn’t going to change now. 

You knew for sure, despite all other uncertainties revolving your relationship, consistency is something you both needed in these trying days. 

You’d settle for it as long as he stayed in your life. 

“Find anything interesting?” You’d been silent for too long. You realized it with an awkward jolt and you set yourself back into motion.

“No,” you called back. “You?”

“The whole place has been swept clean,” Joel sighed as he came back into the room.

“That can’t be right,” you leaned against the wall and stared at your feet in confusion. “The smugglers haven’t gotten this far, I’m sure of it.”

You looked up to find Joel staring down at you with a hint of sympathy. He knew how excited you were about this one—it was a medical building. Tall with a few stories of what you’d assumed had been doctors’ offices and reception areas.

You’d been kind of right. It definitely seemed to have been an office building of some sort, desks still neatly organized in separate cubicles, but everything was pristinely empty.

No medicine, no supplies, no tools. Nothing.

“Goddamnit!” You furiously kicked a nearby desk over.

Joel continued to stare at you with the same brewing frustration. With what you were both expecting to steal and sell off, it would’ve been enough to get the battery Joel needed to get the hell out of dodge. 

Despite the trip being for the sole purpose of finding his brother, Joel knew from the moment you started splitting your illegal earnings with him, you had both feet in the door. Getting out of Boston was just as important to you as it was for him. And while it may have started out for personal gain, you started caring about Joel’s mission somewhere along the way.

And despite his best efforts against it, Joel started caring about you. Battery or not, you were here to stay. 

You were in his life.

When he focused back into the real world, you were pacing the office space, mumbling to yourself with waving hands.

“Seriously, even yesterday these cabinets had been full—”

“Yesterday?” Joel cut in with furrowed brows. “You were here yesterday?”

“Where do you think I got those prescription lenses?” You’d returned yesterday with a box full of glass lenses, not the cheap shit—actual optometrist lenses, shit that would make you a fortune on the black market once you came back for the rest. When Joel got back from work yesterday to where you, him and Tess had been shacking up (an ‘apartment unit’ that was falling apart), he’d found you sitting on your bed, grinning from ear to ear with a small box full of them.

It'd made you a good amount of ration cards and you made enough to quietly pay a man who claimed he had a functioning battery on the market. Joel didn’t know yet— you weren’t going to tell him until the deal went through and the battery was in your hand.

No point in bringing anyone’s hopes up until it was a sure thing, right?

You brushed past Joel, bristling at the thought of someone taking your fortune.

He followed you towards the door, hot on your heels. 

“You went this far out by yourself? Are you crazy?” He realized how pathetic he sounded. How it teetered too close to sounding like he cared more than he should, but he did. 

And the mere thought of you putting yourself in serious danger irked him in a raging way.

“Our options were getting limited, Joel,” you whipped around with flames in your eyes. “And it would’ve got us what we needed. If that makes me crazy, so be it.”

Protectiveness wasn’t unusual for Joel. You’d see it when anyone spoke to you in the wrong tone. How he’d snap at whoever for even looking at you the wrong way. You’ve seen it with his insistency in finding his brother. 

And you’re seeing it now.

Only this time, it didn’t cause those stubborn butterflies in your gut. It only fueled your ever-growing frustration.

Joel grabbed your arm firmly. “If something had happened to you—"

Slam!

It cut off Joel before he could finish, both of you whipping towards the doorway and looking at the stairs that led to the first floor.

“Spread out,” a gruff voice commanded below you. “They’re in here somewhere.”

“Shit,” you cursed quietly, ripping your arm from Joel’s tight grip, rushing over to hide against the wall next to the open door.

Joel did the same, a loaded pistol in his right hand, aimed across his chest toward his left. He stared at you across the doorway, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You fell into immediate silence as Joel brought a finger to his lips, hushing you before you could utter another word.

“This is stupid, man. Everything’s untouched, are you sure they even came through—”

“Shut the fuck up. We follow his rules. We do our job, and we get paid and that’s it.”

Breath hitched in your throat, you stared over at Joel, watching his face contort with every piece of information the two idiots revealed.

“Isn’t he scared of this dude? I mean, if he wants them gone, why not come after them himself? Who knows what this Miller guy is capable of—”

“Get a fuckin’ grip, Santiago,” you nearly jumped out of your skin when his gruff voice sounded much closer. “It’s two of them against all of us. You’re a fuckin’ pussy. Don’t know why Robert chose you in the first place.”

Joel threw his head against the concrete with a roll of his eyes. But his fingers curled over the trigger and you did the same.

“I’m lookin’ out for myself,” their footsteps echoed up the stairwell. “You should do the same.”

Slowly raising your gun, your lips silently counted down.

‘5..’ Joel gave you a curt nod.

‘4’ “That’s exactly what I’m doing. Don’t talk about shit chu don’t know about.”

‘3’ You tried to check your ammo as quietly as possible.

‘2’ Something uncomfortable pricked at Joel’s stomach, staring at you as he imagined fighting side-by-side. It wasn’t his first time, but every single time got harder than the last. And this time, he wasn’t even sure how big the ambush would be. 

If something happened to you—

‘1.’

He shook his head a bit more aggressively than he meant, ignoring your questioning gaze, before swinging around the corner with his gun in one hand, blade in the other.

Instantly, the two men went to scream, but you and Joel took care of it quickly. You tried to ignore the pang of guilt in your chest as you fired your muffled weapon directly between one of the men’s eyes. 

Beside him, Joel held his partner against his front, hand over his gurgling mouth, blood spilling out the side of his neck.

Your eyes were locked on his until the man in his arms went limp and Joel let him drop emotionlessly.

You ignored the temptation to follow his body with your eyes and instead hardened your gaze toward Joel. 

It wasn’t his fault that you still hadn’t grown as desensitized as he had over the years, but your envy was hard to swallow. Even if you were better at hiding it, you knew Joel would’ve eventually noticed. Despite his careless exterior, Joel was a nitpicker, constantly inspecting, constantly searching. 

You were just glad that his faith in your abilities hadn’t wavered despite your stubborn empathetic streak. 

You refused to appear weak, especially in front of him. 

A rush of voices and footsteps pulled both you and Joel out of whatever spiral your minds had thrown you into, a calloused hand wrapping around your arm and dragging you to the center of the room and then pushing you to the right side behind a rather large desk. 

Your knees roughly hit the dusty mat in front of the workstation, and you whipped your head around to search for Joel before he could disappear within the room. 

A flash of brown hair was the only indication that your partner hadn’t left you high and dry, but you had no time to dwell on it. The door was busted down and a chorus of voices entered. 

They must’ve seen Santiago and whatever the other guy’s name was because there was a simultaneous shift in which your mind shut down everything else but the need to survive.

The sight of bullets flying registered before the sound of the shots, blood rushing to your ears and fingertips as you flew up instinctively, pulling your own trigger. 

The fight became quickly divided, a few more flocking toward Joel’s side of the floor and you felt the rush of determination more than ever. 

The adrenaline coursing through your veins as your mind chanted one thing only. 

Fight, survive, protect.

“You bitch!” A blonde came rushing toward you, face screwed in anger as he bared his teeth at you. 

He was lifting his gun, looking between you and Santiago’s body from behind your desk. You were quick to respond, lifting your weapon quicker and firing the bullet. 

You didn’t even get to see his body hit the ground. A sudden pain in your jaw blinded you, the force of a fist smashing against your face sending you tumbling into the nearest wall. 

Black spots dusted your vision and you quickly shook them away. You swung back and kicked against whoever had gotten the jump on you. 

His fist was wrapped in your hair, pulling as you fought back tirelessly. You managed to catch a glimpse of your attacker’s eyes before you were finally getting a grip on the pistol strapped to your thigh, firing into his side as he made one final move. 

Your skin tore quickly, stretching down your chest agonizingly, and you almost fell to the ground with him. 

A harrowing yell escaped you before you could help it. You’re not even sure how you managed to stumble away but you found yourself quickly pressing your hands against the knife that was still lodged in your stomach. 

Without hesitation, you ripped the weapon out. 

It was a hinderance to your survival, to Joel’s survival, and you couldn’t afford to wait on the sidelines. But then a wave of agony made you fall to your knees. 

You could hear your name being called over and over again, but then the blood was suddenly rushing into your head, your skull pounding behind your eyes.

Did you answer? Did you call Joel’s name like he did yours? God, the pain was blinding. Your hands shook violently as you tried to rip a piece of your jacket.

The fabric slipped between your fingers like water and you pulled away in frantic confusion.

Red. It was all over the place. It stained your fingers, your shirt— it wouldn’t stop. 

Why won’t it stop? 

A disgruntled breath escaped you, just as you rubbed your hands against your shirt again, and both things hit you like a freight train.

The pain, blossoming from the sharp intake of air and the contact against your ever present wound, was enough to send you tumbling in realization.

You’d ripped the knife out of your stomach. It wasn’t just a scratch. Your fight-or-flight mode seemed to override the severity of what had just happened.

“Shit,” you whispered, putting pressure against the wound despite every part of you wanting to pull away.

A distance away, Joel yelled your name again. It was desperate, enough to cut through your gaze of panic. As calm as you could manage, you threw him a glance over your shoulder. 

He was cornered again, three men surrounding him with knives and pistols. They were putting up a decent fight but it didn’t worry you. You’d seen your partner fight against greater odds and win without breaking a sweat.

As long as he stayed focused.

“I’m fine,” you called back to him, staring down at your blood-soaked hand. “Just got the wind knocked out of me is all.”

You hated lying.

The numbers behind you were slowly dwindling down...

Until suddenly they weren’t. 

A chorus of shouts emerged from the hallway to your right and a sudden rush of adrenaline numbed your pain.

You felt a flood of relief.

Joel couldn’t handle this alone. After everything you two had been through together, a stab wound was not going to take you out.

Not without a good fight before.

The grunts behind you finally died down and Joel was quick to join your side, pulling his handgun from the holster on his belt.

The action quickly started again, men flooding into the room with pointed guns.

Your finger pulled the trigger on instinct, taking down the closest man before he could make a move towards you. 

It was a series of bangs and flashes after that. Purely running off adrenaline and instinct, ducking behind whatever desks were still in one piece and flying back up with a bullet in tow.

Across the room, Joel was holding his own, clearing the room as quick as you were.

Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past your ear, close enough you could feel the rush of wind speed past you and you spun on your feet, firing before you even laid eyes on your final target.

Luckily, by the time you spotted him, the last man was dropping to the floor with a heavy thud.

Your arm fell slack, loosely gripping your pistol. 

It was silent for a few moments as you gazed over at your partner and he seemed just as winded as you.

Joel’s breaths were loud, chest heaving with exhaustion. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees. 

“They must’ve been tipped off,” he said.

The adrenaline was slowly leaving your body. 

Weakly, you nodded. You didn’t even stop to think that he had his back turned toward you.

The air was suddenly punched out of your lungs. The pain was back, and it felt like the prick of a hundred needles. You weren’t sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

“Joel…” Your lips could barely form the word. Where did all your strength go in an instant?

He must not have heard you over his increasing anger. Joel was a loud thinker; at least, he was with you. 

For anyone else, the man was a damn puzzle that was impossible to solve. It’s what made you feel a pang of guilt, just as your legs gave out, because there was a dreadful feeling in your gut that maybe this wasn’t one that you could come back from. Not this far out from the QZ, and even then. Medical supplies were scarce and expensive, more than both you and Joel could afford even with joint forces, seeing as most of everything you had had gone into this mission.

You hit the ground hard enough to send Joel spinning faster than you’d ever seen him move. His stance was sure, gun back in his hand before you could even see it move toward his belt, ready to take on whoever else had threatened him and you.

Black dots began to fizzle the corners of your vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Joel pocketed the weapon and rushed toward you. “Hey, Y/N, look at me.”

You tried. Your eyelids were too heavy.

A noise of panic left the back of his throat. “Open your eyes,” Joel grabbed your face roughly. “Look at me now!”

Startled, your eyes opened wide and a bit of awareness came back to you.

“What happened?” Joel demanded, scanning your body with urgency. His eyes zeroed in on your hands that were pressed against the wound.

Shakily, you pulled away and for a moment, he thought he was trapped in a nightmare. Blood coated your shaking palms.

“One of those fuckers got me good,” you hissed. Joel was mercilessly pressing his hands against your stomach now.

“Ease up, will you?” A flare of annoyance struck you when he pressed harder. “Jesus Christ—"

“I’m a little busy trying to save your life,” Joel gave you a hard glare. There was something in his eyes, a mix of frustration and anger and—and something else.

Joel Miller’s impeccable mask of calmness was cracking, panic seeping through the seams. 

That confirms it, you thought dreadfully. It really is as bad as I thought.

Things suddenly became blurrier than before. You squinted through the haze. “Sorry, I know. Sorry, it just—it just hurts.”

At that, he finally let up and curled his fingers around the hem of your torn shirt. As quickly as you nodded, Joel pulled the fabric up and instantly regretted it.

Though he tried hard to disguise it, you saw the drop in his expression, the disappointment in his gaze as he studied your stomach with a horrible poker face.

You looked up at the ceiling, a deeper pit in your stomach settling. You weren’t leaving this torn-up building. Not alive at least.

Tears stung the corners of your eyes, and you angrily blinked them away before Joel could see them.

“It’s not too bad,” Joel said finally.

If you had the strength, you would’ve scoffed. “Don’t lie.”

“Like you did?” He accused.

You dropped your chin to glare at him through half-lidded eyes. “We were surrounded. You were surrounded. I had no choice.”

He was looking down at your torso again and you dared to follow his gaze.

Torn skin, fiery red around the ragged edges of what had been a rather large, hefty blade. It nearly dragged down to your navel, bleeding profusely down into the fabric of your pants, likely ripped open by the rush of adrenaline that allowed you to finish the rest of Robert’s men.

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” he began to tug on your arm, dragging you up from the ground with a grunt. “Never again.”

A whine escaped you before you could stop it, teeth gritting from the blinding pain, and you had half a mind to whack Joel with all the strength you could muster.

“Fuck,” you coughed. “W-warn me next time.”

An apology was at the tip of Joel’s tongue, but he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t start going easy on you now. Not until he was sure you were out of death’s reach, and he could properly scold you for being so stupid.

“Talk to me,” he demanded as he more or less dragged you down the first flight of stairs, struggling to store his gun in the holster of his belt. His hands were shaking too badly and a wave of nausea hit him. 

“Why?” You hissed in pain, brain still foggy from the blood loss and irritated from the numbness in your legs. You weren’t making sense of anything. 

Joel bit his lip harshly. “So, I can keep you awake. You need to be alert, you hear me?”

You didn’t hear him. 

In fact, all you could hear or think or even see was blinding red, an ache so deep in your bones. You weren’t even sure if you were still dragging your feet along.

Your silence had Joel stumbling to a stop, pushing you against the wall and pinching your cheek desperately. Your eyelids were barely open. A string of mumbles left your lips and Joel firmly shook your shoulders. 

“It—” you centered yourself again. “It hurts—"

The world spun again, and you were suddenly looking straight up at the underside of his jaw, clenched in worry, eyes straight ahead as he began to hustle down the rest of the stairs with you in his arms.

As he finally made it outside, the lump in his throat got harder to swallow and something began to crack in his chest. An anxiety that he hadn’t felt since he had someone else in his arms like this, since spilled blood coated his arms and shirt.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.

It was eerily quiet, only your protests that went unheard by him breaking the silence of sunset over the city, and his mind tortured him even further. 

Plaguing him with memories of when you were alive and well.

Joel knew he was in for a night of trouble when you came through the door that evening with a sly tone in your voice.

“Guess what I found today.”

“Trouble, no doubt,” Joel responded mindlessly, bottom lip pinched between the grip of his calloused fingers, troubled with memories of the past and the horrors of the possible future. 

You shrugged with a cunning smile on your face, sauntering to the ‘kitchen’ and out of his peripheral view. “Could be.”

He heard the clatter of your keys, the familiar rustle of you shrugging off your jacket, and he only looked up once you made your way to the edge of the living room. 

There was the hint of a smile on your face, as if you were containing an excitement over God knows what. It wasn’t often that he saw that particular look on your face. He secretly decided that he liked it a lot.

His gaze left your face as you pulled something out from behind your back and held it up with pride.

A dark red bottle dwarfed your hand in size, a peeling label wrapped around its front and he squinted his eyes to read the cursive inscription— ‘Tuscan Vineyards Cabernet.’

He looked up at you with wide eyes and you were full on smiling now. You walked over to him, and Joel had to arch his neck to look up at you from his spot on the floor. Gently, you handed it over.

“Can big and bad Joel Miller handle his liquor?”

“This is wine,” Joel scoffed, inspecting the bottle in his large hands. “I’d hardly consider this liquor.”

You watched as a hint of pink flooded the apples of his cheeks, despite his best efforts to ignore your teasing. The corner of your lips curled up.

“I don’t know,” you slipped the bottle out of his grip with a pointed sigh. “It’s been a while since we’ve had the good stuff. Our tolerance is probably not what it used to be.”

“Speak for yourself. I was never the first to tap out of any drinking game. That was Tommy’s job.”

You tried not to let the surprise show on your face. 

It was rare that Joel spoke about his past, and with how anxious he was to hear from his little brother, you were surprised he was bringing him up so casually. 

Busying yourself by getting up from some glasses, you threw an eyebrow raise over your shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Even after you turned around, he kept staring at you, entranced by your fluid movements, reaching to set two glasses down and searching for a suitable knife within the stash you had accumulated in the apartment. 

There was something so normal about watching you flounce along the kitchen, eager to indulge in a treat you two hadn’t had since before the world ended. 

It was almost… domestic.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, Joel cast it away just as quickly, sharply looking away from your figure and glaring down at the carpet with a sudden anger. 

Domesticity and anything along the lines ceased to exist for Joel long, long ago. Even if an odd pang in his chest was begging him to look back at you and chase the feeling, he’d ignore it and bury it down deep inside.

He couldn’t afford to entertain such thoughts.

“Ah!” You carefully crossed the living room, two glasses full to the brim in your grip. “Finally.”

Seeing the alcohol had Joel perking up slightly, quickly accepting his cup with a familiar spark in his eye. 

“Thanks,” he grumbled slightly, still bewildered by his impulsive thoughts. Silently, he watched as you carefully lowered yourself to the ground beside him, folding your legs under yourself and letting out a sign of relief as your muscles finally took a much-needed break.

You were tempted to clink your glasses against his, and it seemed Joel had the same beat of hesitation too, but you quickly reeled yourself back in. 

This world hardly allowed for any wins, and now it was just pitiful to raise your glass in this day and age.

A nod will have to do, Joel decided first, and you gratefully tipped your head back toward him. 

The tartness burst along his tongue at the first sip, smooth but shockingly strong, carving its way down his throat slowly.

Beside him, you also drank with a pleased hum. 

“Where’d you find this?” Joel asked as soon as he’d gotten his first fill. 

“The city,” you avoided his eyes, busying your mouth with wine again.

You were a shit liar when it came to personal affairs. 

“I’ll ask again,” Joel corrected with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Who’d you steal this from?”

“Some guy named John Dean, ’twas the name on the liquor license in the bar. You think I could afford this on the market? We’re lucky John had this stashed in the back.”

“I can see why. It’s pretty damn good,” Joel admitted.

“It is, isn’t it? It’s a shame Tess isn’t here to share with us.”

Right. He’d almost forgotten about her impromptu solo trip to ‘visit some friends’ in Detroit.

If he cared more, Joel would’ve pressed for more information, but Tess had never done him, or you, wrong before. It wasn’t his job to worry about her personal life.

Joel hummed in response. The sun was setting, casting you two in darkness and neither of you made an effort to get up and flick on the light switch...

Time must’ve eluded him because your voice cut through the silence that had settled like a knife. 

“We’ll find him, you know?”

Joel hardened his gaze and took another sip. The wall was suddenly very interesting.

“We’re going to find your brother,” you said again, staring over at Joel with a look he couldn’t quite place. Not even after he moved his eyes over to you.

Your eyes were rounded with sincerity, the golden hues of the sun reflecting in your gaze, lips parted with hints of stained red. The glass of wine hung between your fingers loosely, half-full but still briming with unspoken truths. 

It was that look in your eyes that cracked his rugged exterior, meticulously built from years of grief and horror. 

He wanted to say something, anything, but he was coming up blank. Ensnared by the absolute beauty you exuded in this very moment. 

He’s been looking at you for much longer than you’d consider normal, there’s no point in pushing anything away now. Might as well go the full nine yards.

And just as he was taking that leap, bringing his face closer to yours, his own hands flashed in his vision. 

Covered in a red deeper than the stain on your lips, dripping and dripping...

Joel pulled back with a jolt, unnoticing to the small sigh that left your mouth, and tried to blink away the blood on his shaking hands. 

He swallowed down the bile that threatened to burn the roof of his mouth with a sip of wine.

Death followed him around every corner. His failure to protect what was his would always haunt him.

He couldn’t allow it to happen again.

Your breaths evened out after a moment, and he listened to them with closed eyes.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t let you be another casualty. 

You had to stay alive. Joel would keep you alive...

You’d said something before he managed to fuck things up. 

Joel racked his brain for the memory. It seemed like it’d been so long ago. 

‘We’re going to find your brother.’ That’s what you’d said...

Joel would keep you alive, even if every nerve in his body ached to connect with yours. He wanted to explain it to you, but you’d made him a promise. He’s making one to you too. He’s going to keep you alive...

‘We’re going to find your brother,’ you’d said.

Apologize. Explain. His brain was screaming at him-- no.

Respond.

“Okay,” is what he settled for instead.

You were still alive. 

You were still alive and that’s the only thing that mattered. He had to keep it that way. 

“Stop,” you begged breathlessly. It was like he hadn’t even heard you, pushing on even as the sun began to set in the west.

How long had it been?

There was a buzzing in your head; it was numbing, as if you’d been injected with some sort of laughing gas. It was a little bizarre and it was enough to add some bass in your tone.

“Joel, please. Stop.” 

It was your grip that made Joel finally look down. Your hand, quivering and weak, had come to wrap around his bicep, nails digging in with urgency.

He staggered as he looked into your dim eyes, half-lidded and bloodshot red.

“Put me down,” you whispered. “Please.”

You were slipping away; he could feel it. 

It was happening all over again, and he was helpless to stop it.

“No,” he said firmly, but his body was still going through the motions. He was still falling on his knees, a shock spreading to his spine, but he didn’t feel the pain. 

All he could feel was you.

Your staggering breaths, the twitching of your hands, he guessed some sort of state of shock from the blood loss… It was probably a miracle that you hadn’t passed out from it all yet.

Gravel dug into his jeans, but he paid it no mind, frantically searching your eyes for something. Anything—any sort of solution because he couldn’t go through this again.

Desperately, he pulled up your shirt to look at your wound. The blood wasn’t clotting, it was going faster than your body could respond.

Maybe he could find something to stitch you up with, try to work through all the blood, but the small logical part of him knew that searching through any of these buildings would be like finding a needle in a haystack. And he didn’t trust that you’d keep yourself awake while he was gone…

With a jolt, Joel realized he was no longer hearing anything at all. Your breaths had gone eerily quiet, your hands devastatingly still…

“Hey!” Joel looked toward your face frantically. 

His shout jolted you awake, reaching toward the last bits of consciousness your brain could muster. 

It was as if a thousand-pound weight had been tied to your ankle and you’d been thrown in the ocean. Desperately reaching for the surface as you sank further and further. Like your oxygen was running out...

“Hey, stay with me, you’re not allowed to rest. Not yet.”

You’re barely able to pinpoint where the voice is coming from until he’s shaking your shoulders roughly. 

Your eyes focused back on Joel, a heaviness in your chest.

“Joel?” It takes an extreme amount of effort to form his name on your lips, but you know it’s worth the pain. The dull headache it forms to not give into the peaceful silence that sleep was promising you. It was luring you in, but love made in a little bit easier to keep yourself rooted to the land of the living.

“I’m here. I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not—”

He’s caught by surprise when a sob lodged itself in his throat. He did his best to swallow it down.

It felt like something was ripping at his own chest, breaking through the grief he’d buried down decades ago. And his grip on your body got tighter. 

Joel pulled you in to his body like he’d done years ago.

He loved you. God, he loved you. It was threatening to swallow him whole, the flood of emotions as he stared down at your pale cheeks and dim eyes. 

He’d denied himself the opportunity to love you, truly love you, because of his stubborn belief that he knew what was best for you.

He knew that if he allowed himself to indulge, he’d set you both up for disaster. Because that’s just how the universe worked for him.

But now, as he sat doused in your blood, Joel Miller felt a deeper heartbreak than anything he could’ve ever imagined the universe had in store for him.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel this way after Sarah.

He was a fool.

“Joel—” you breathed with a hint of a smile.

“Why? Why did you lie—you should’ve told me before—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” you coughed, the taste of iron on your tongue. “I wasn’t going to let them get the jump on us. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you—”

You’re kidding. Even as you look death in the face, you’re talking about his safety before your own. 

It cracked his heart further.

His lips quivered and you were so close that you could feel the small puffs of breath that escaped them. “We gotta get back to the QZ, the sun’s going down. We gotta get you stitched up—“

Even though his knees screamed against it, he was already hauling you two back up before your shrill scream sent him right back down in panic. 

One look at your pained expression and he was reminded that he couldn’t afford to spare you the luxury of rest.

“I know, I know it hurts, I know,” he repeated because he was stuck in the same nightmare. “I’m sorry, I know.”

“No,” you begged. “We won’t make it. Please, please, Joel. Stop.”

He only managed a few staggering steps before he was collapsing again, shrinking into himself in anguish. 

It seemed like a century had passed as he sat on the gravel, cradling your frail body.

Joel didn’t even feel the tears running down his face until your fragile hand touched his cheek.

“I—I should’ve said it before, but I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” it was getting harder to breathe, but you knew this was what you wanted to use your last breaths for. 

“I love you, Joel Miller... And –”

Joel’s eyes flew open in shock, staring into yours in disbelief. 

He was unlovable, he’d made sure of that, but here you were. Looking at him with the most sincerity he’d ever seen in anyone’s eyes, glistening with unshed tears of what could’ve been.

“And I’m sorry I’m telling you this now. But you—you had to know. Tell Tess I’m sorry and that she better find what she’s looking for in—in Detroit.”

“Y/N…” His hands cradled your face, just as you ran your fingertips over his quivering lips.

“You’ll be okay, Joel,” you smiled weakly. “You’re going to find Tommy and you’re going to be okay.”

“Please.”

You seemed to ignore his plea, choosing to look over at the orange sunset with that same easy smile on your lips.

And when it slowly began to drop, when your eyes started to glaze over, Joel leaned over to press his lips against the corner of yours, feeling the air leave your parted mouth. And his lips found your forehead, pressing firmly with the whispers of a thousand apologies against your skin.

And there he sobbed, cradled your head into his neck, facing away from the sunset your eyes lastly rested on, the world falling apart at his knees.

Joel Miller loved you too. You left this world without knowing it.

He loved you too.

uh… this will be edited 1000% when i’m completely sober <3 tipsy elle clocking out!

— elle <3

taglist:

@rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

@sloanexx @rendiore @words-are-cheap @justhereforthosefics @angelmenace @lady-bellyn @encephalitiskat

[fitheghosty]

hey so this is an introduction for my stranger things oc, hope you enjoy :)

THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

hello, I'm Fi!! this is an intro to an oc I'm working on. Her name is Lennox, she's 26, and she faked her own death when she was 18. she got a bit too close while trying to solve the Creel family murder. this is a little excerpt of how I would imagine her introduction to the show would go! this is after they find the newspapers and before nancy and robin go talk to victor

------------------------------------------------------------

Click, click.

An unknown voice appeared behind them, “I would put that bat down.” She said, referring to the bat Steve had just picked up a minute ago.

The group jumped, turning around to stare at the mysterious woman. She didn’t seem friendly, shot gun in hand, and a knife in her pocket. She eyed them all up warily, almost like she was trying to sense if they were dangerous or not.

Silence filled the air as the woman didn’t move a bit, hell, none of them dared to move with how tight her grip was around the weapon. Steve didn’t budge, he kept the bat to his side, not letting any of his friends out of his sight.

Nancy, arguably the bravest out of all of them, finally spoke up, “Lennox Campbell…?” She said, remembering the picture they had all seen in the newspaper. Granted, she seemed older now, not as lively. Dark circles seemed to roam the bottom of her eyes, and where freckles used to live on her face was now etched with a nasty scar from her upper left cheek to her chin.

No response, but she did lower the gun. So, progress..?

Steve rubbed his face, “Wait but, you’re dead. Unless– are you a ghost? Is she a ghost?” He questioned, looking around at everybody.

Dustin groaned, “How many times do I have to tell you, ghosts can’t touch things!! We have this conversation all of the damn time!” He lashed out at him, obviously getting stressed by the situation.

Steve looked over at Dustin, “Alright sorry.”

“Are you though?” He asked pointedly.

“Yes, Jesus christ! My god!”

“Guys!” Robin said, trying to bring them back to their current situation, “Can you idiots have your strange little fight sometime later, perhaps?”

“Right."

"Our bad.”

The woman raised an eyebrow at the strange interaction, looking back over to Nancy, “Look, I can’t call the police to get you guys the hell out of here, so I’d appreciate it if you did it yourselves. Now.”

Nancy, never one to give up on a story, finally spoke up once again, “We came here because we thought this house was abandoned. Lennox Campbell’s parents used to live here, but they moved after she died from a boating incident in 1979, her senior year…She drowned, she was confirmed dead.”

“..Look, why are you telling me this!?” The woman snarled.

“She used to work for the school’s newspaper, she wrote an article about the Creel house, and then suddenly two months later she passed away from a horrible accident. I read the article myself, and my suspicion is that she found something she wasn’t supposed to, and made the article to warn everyone.. But then someone silenced her…Please, we need to know if you’re Lennox. We’re desperate.” Nancy ended her rant, breathing deeply.

The woman tried her hardest not to let her mouth gape open, she cleared her throat.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Lennox said.

[manysmallhands]

#10: Kate Bush - Hounds Of Love

Released - 24 Feb 1986

Highest UK Chart Position - #18

First Heard - on release, incessantly

If Abba were my brother’s first musical obsession, Kate Bush was the first that I caught from start to finish. Again, in my role as captive listener, I was subjected to all of her records in great depth and, once more, they shaped my still unformed brain in unpredictable and alarming ways. Hounds Of Love was the first album that came out during his hardcore Kate Bush period and, coincidentally, I have an extremely strong emotional reaction to it to this day. Is it just a great record? Or are these the effects of a more sinister form of conditioning that I still don’t fully understand? No doubt expensive studies might fathom the truth of this question but, in any case, the title track is my favourite Kate Bush single and so it takes its place in the 50.

One of his wider obsessions was to track down all the sources of her inspiration, so it’s a surprise that we never saw Night Of the Demon, the film that provides Hounds Of Love with its opening lines. But whatever its relevance here, it’s important to note that “it’s in the trees! It’s coming!” Is a kick ass sample and the best intro to any song in the list. Kate’s vocal is similarly great: having tamed the occasionally am-dram delivery of her early records into a kind of dense, melodramatic holler, she turns Hounds Of Love into a movie in itself, a figurative journey into the fear of love. Every moment is acted out as if she’s in imminent danger, tho there’s an ambiguity which gives the song its emotional charge: the meanings get flipped, the flight becomes pursuit.

But it’s the cellos that hit me the hardest: every time they begin to plug away, I’ll often end up bursting into tears (it’s the same with the violins on Cloudbusting, but I digress). The first time this happened was about 15 years ago, when I hadn’t listened to it for about a decade: it took me by surprise then but it hasn’t relented much since. I’m not sure what it means to be honest: maybe just that Hounds Of Love is a remarkable record that taps a deep well of nostalgia. Or perhaps one day I’ll have an episode of recovered memory and find out exactly what I endured in those dark days of late 1985, when this song filled the house relentlessly for weeks on end. But in the absence of evidence, I’ve formed my own suspicion: I think it might be just that I don’t know what’s good for me either.

[cha-melodius]

1, 12, 25, and 37 for the fanfic asks game! :)

1. Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Well, I daydream a lot before I write by necessity, because I often am in a situation where I can't immediately write things down. I do a ton of plotting/planning as I'm trying to fall asleep at night, or sometimes right after I wake up, so that means I often end up imagining different scenes several different ways before I actually can write them. As for starting new stories, it really depends on how strong the pull is. A lot of times I end up sketching out the plot in brief and then it sits for a while until I have time to get around to it.

12. Do you outline your fics?  If yes, how detailed are your outlines?  How far do you stray from them?

I am a big outliner. The level of detail depends a bit on the fic. Very long fics get pretty outlines, where every major scene/plot point is at least briefly noted. Then, as I'm writing the fic, I often end up outlining individual chapters in more detail before I actually write them. Short fics (by which I mean <10k) often don't get much in the way of an outline before I dive in. I would say that I pretty much never stray from the overarching storyline, but I do sometimes end up changing or cutting certain scenes. As a side note when I started writing fic I never outlined or planned at all. Now, I can't imagine doing that.

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

Oh hmmm, interesting question! Probably the brainstorming/plotting parts. I am constantly dreaming up new plots and new storylines, and I find it so much fun to do so. The writing itself is probably close behind, at least for the scenes that really pull me in and make me want to write them. For some scenes, the writing is like pulling teeth.

37. What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

For some reason The Lost Art of Keeping A Secret was really difficult to write after about the first chapter. The beginning was easy, I had an idea and a compelling intro, but then when I had to actually deal with writing a mission where the main characters were already in a relationship, which turned out to be a lot harder than I expected. I tend to specialize in getting together fics with lots of mutual pining, not having characters have adult conversations about relationships (lol). I remember really struggling with the later chapters, but I was determined to come to a fitting conclusion. For completely different reasons, the two time loop fics I've written (in two different fandoms) were also quite challenging, because you have to come up with creative ways to repeat text and keep things interesting. That said, I really enjoy writing them, despite (or perhaps because of) the challenge!

Thanks so much for sending in these asks!

Fanfic Writer Asks | My Ask Box

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Tethys (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Titaness of the Sea, Mother of Waters by the people of Olympius

Tadpole by Oceanus

Age- 55 (immortal)

Location- Aetolia, Olympius

Personality- She's a balanced, driven, & dynamic woman/ruler. Despite the general lack of knowledge and its size, she's very proud of the freshwater territories (as an unofficial part of the Underwater realm). Much like the habitat, Tethys has a "go-with-the flow" temperament & way of thinking.

As the Titaness of rivers, streams, lakes, & clouds, she has many abilities including being able to communicate with/shapeshift into freshwater animals (like ducks, frogs, & crocodiles, etc...), hydrokinesis (as it pertains to freshwater sources), nephelokinesis (cloud manipulation/generation), limited aerokinesis, caligokinesis (fog generation/manipulation), and can telekinetically manipulate wells & fountains.

Her tail has dark green scales. It's often remarked that her tail often looks like it's covered in "many glittering emeralds."

Tethys (along with her husband) lives in a large lakehouse style mansion built out of marble by the Achelous river. For the interior design, the walls are painted in vibrant shades of green, silver, and blue. The windows are decorated with many potted freshwater plants. They also have many large hot tubs, jacuzzis, and an Olympic sized indoor pool!

They have quite the LARGE family (nearly 3,000 children), perhaps the largest in the entire pantheon, giving Zeus (god of the sky, thunder, & lightning) a run for his money with the astonishing number of family members!

She has recently been established as the main ruler of the Freshwater Territories while her husband is the king consort. Tethys often wishes that the freshwater territories would get the same recognition & respect as the main underwater realm- being the seas & oceans ruled under the jurisdiction of Poseidon (god of the sea & earthquakes).

As having an official seat on the Olympian Council, she often brings up ideas for legislations & bills to help her domain and its inhabitants.

In her domain, Tethys is well known for her charitable actions- by hosting charity drives, working on constructing new housing, & making and personally delivering home cooked meals for citizens going though food insecurity (a take-out carton filled with many of her specialties like alligator meat, boudin balls, dirty rice, potato salad, and crawfish pie).

Aside from being a ruler, Tethys has a couple of businesses on the side. She has a line of bottled water (the bottles being made from recycled glass) called Cleanstream & she also owns a company that designs & makes decorative fountains. She's also a frequent writer for Hearthside, Regalia, & Vital Essence magazines. Tethys also models for/endorses Euryphaessa and Luxuria.

Her go-to drink is aloe vera juice. It's a habitual routine for her to drink a glass before she goes jogging every morning. She also likes mineral water, coconut water, lychee juice, & sparkling water of various flavors. She also enjoys a glass of white wine. From The Roasted Bean Tethys likes a cafe au lait as well as an olympian sized iced blueberry pea tea.

Some of Tethys' guilty pleasures include po' boy sandwiches & fried frog legs.

Her favorite desserts are the torte à la bouillie and beignets!

Sandals are Tethys’ favorite type of footwear!

As far as her relationships go with the other members of the pantheon, it's no secret how Tethys feels about her brother-in-law Kronos (Titan god of the harvest, time, & fate). She absolutely despises him for nearly destroying her husband as well as potentionally all of humanity.

Tethys tries her hardest not to think about or feel bad about her other sister‐in-law Rhea (Titaness of fertility, motherhood, & comfort). She also doesn't think much of her other brother-in-law Krios (Titan god of stars & constellations) or her sister-in-law Eurybia (goddess of the sea's mastery), though she still keeps in touch with her husband's half brother Thaumas (god of sea wonders).

Tethys is good friends with Pleione (Titaness of sailing & stars). She's friendly with Demeter (goddess of the harvest & agriculture), Phoebe (Titaness of prophecy, the moon, radiant intellect, & mystery), Hesychia (goddess of quiet, stillness, rest, & silence), Elpis (goddess of hope), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), The Nesoi (sister island goddesses), and Coeus (Titan god of foresight, intellect, & knowledge).

She has a close relationship with Hera (goddess of women & marriage) when she became her guardian after her parents were killed during the war. The two still keep in contact.

With her family, Tethys loves all of her children and grandchildren. She has come into a new recent member of the family- her daughter-in-law Aígli (Gigi) (goddess of glamour). Tethys doesn't neccessarily dislike her, but doesn't know what to think about her yet.

Her favorite frozen treat is blue raspberry sea salt ice cream! She also likes coconut lychee sorbet.

Tethys mentored Nephele (goddess of clouds).

She takes the most ultimate pride in her thick curly hair. She mostly uses Glory's Crown products like the aloe vera cleansing shampoo, the coconut milk leave-in conditioner, and the almond oil elixir.

Her favorite accessory is her wedding ring- a pear shaped halo light green diamond set in platinum.

Tethys is seen as a gem among the community of freshwater beings as well as the nephelai (cloud nymphs) community!

Some of her favorite meals include red beans & rice, okra stew, shrimp & pork jambalaya, collard green creole dirty rice, crawfish étouffée, and pastitsio.

In her free time, her favorite thing to do is mosaic tile art! Many of her pieces decorate her abode & a few of them have even made their way to the New Olympus Museum of Modern Art (NOMMA). Tethys also loves spending time with her husband whether it's through dancing, having a date night, surfing, sailing, gardening, fishing, swimming, or kayaking, and spending time with her family whenever she can.

"Water never gives up. It forges many paths."

[plasticflowering]

A Unifying Theory of Loreography (Lore + Choreography)

(2/3/21) HELLO to all new folks finding this post! It is also now a YouTube Video, and I’m pretty happy with it so if you’d rather get your lore analysis visually please check it out! 

Preface: I don’t think it’s just coincidence that we got full choreography for an intro called “Devil is in the detail”, and I’ve made it my mission since 반박불가 dropped to pull apart the threads that might link everything, lore-wise. This morning I believe I had an epiphany about it, so here are my thoughts.

If this flops I will feel my soul exiting my body so please validate me.

Notes: In forming this theory I mostly considered the events of the storyline MVs and teasers as well as the choreography, but a very important part of my epiphanies came when considering the post-MV stingers for TBONTB and 반박불가. It’s using these stingers that I feel like I can better understand the thesis statements in the choreo. 

Part One: Now then, where were we? 

At the end of TBONTB, the monarchs are approaching monumental, pitch-black gates made of skulls and desperate, reaching hands. 

I can’t not interpret this as the gates of Tartarus, considering the Greek mythology in the canon lore already. Tartarus, however, is at the lowest depths of the underworld, and so my interpretation is that, while they reclaimed their souls from the necklace, they awoke physically in a realm beyond the underworld, and now have to make their way out of this psychological nightmare to breathe free the air, as it were. Through Tartarus, through Hell, this is not because I played 80 hours of Hades in the last three months but it might have a little to do with that. Stay with me. (Though if anyone is wondering, YES Leedo would be Zagreus, but that’s not why we’re here today)

Part Two: Devil is in the Detail 

What an opening formation. The imagery is not 100% clear to me, but I feel as if this entire opening formation sequence is dual-wielding imagery of a crown (much like the killing part of TBONTB), but also the gates of Tartarus. 

Look at this transition once Hwanwoong ascends to the top of the formation, and how the hands all come out, similar to the gates above. I’ll be damned if this is supposed to invoke anything else.

Rewinding a bit, this framing of Seoho being resuscitated and borne by their hands is stunning. Seoho’s journey in the TBONTB choreography merits its own post entirely, because there are a lot of moments that seem to be telling a story for him particularly, and this is just a continuation of that. 

Ravn and Leedo being separated for the rap line part seems like an obvious utilitarian choice, and I agree that it is. However, before we prepare to dismiss all “pairings” as serving the progression of the song itself, I have another theory that ties together a lot of the inciting moments of choreo. I promise you this is going to sound like A Reach, but that’s just how my mind works and if you enjoy it I’m glad.

Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the monarchs who have absolved themselves by the events of 반박불가, and fully reclaimed their souls as well as their conscience. Seoho and Ravn, not so much. They have a lot of work to do to free their conscience - especially Seoho. Oh, lord, especially Seoho. Keonhee is an extremely interesting case, as he seems to have a foot firmly in both sides, More on that later. 

For further paranoid conspiracy theorist proof of this, please note that their outfits in the choreography videos symbolically reflect this:

Light, Light, Light/Dark, Dark, Dark/Lightish, Light

If you need more convincing, may I point out that Leedo, Hwanwoong, and Xion are the only members who got those wonderful “all clothed in white” shots in the back half of the 반박불가 MV? I tried to make a gif, and I did make a gif, but Tumblr doesn’t want to post it in this text post.

(you rn)

The most interesting moments of loreography in DiitD are the following: 

1. These lotus hands. Again, the imagery, I die!! Keonhee is coming into his own, his character is blooming, expanding his consciousness, going sicko mode with the realization that he has power in the underworld. 

2. Directly following this, Seoho offers a hand to Keonhee and literally drags him down (again, the light/dark dichotomy of Keonhee), while the two good good boys Hwanwoong and Xion are back there just trying to maintain balance so they can get through this Hell/Tartarus thing. 

3. Good ol’ ONEUS Summoning Circle, but wait this time I think it’s actually meaningful beyond the imagery. Seoho is at the center because he has the vocal line, yeah obviously, but he stays there much longer than is objectively necessary without a formation change. This isn’t common in ONEUS choreography. As much as they love their Summoning Circles, they tend to move on to other formations quickly. This one has meat on its bones, and I think what’s happening here, loreography wise, are the other monarchs banding together in an attempt to save Seoho from the darkness. But Seoho is powerfully dark, y’all, even going so far as to overpower them in the moment above. 

4. This is flame imagery. Seoho has been engulfed in flames despite everyone’s best efforts. 

5. At the last minute, he gets yeeted via backflip back into Hell/Tartarus

6. Keonhee takes the initiative in going back for him...

7. We’re back in Hell, that’s just great. Thanks, Seoho. You’re lucky we love you and your extremely disturbed conscience. 

With this in mind, you can probably get way ahead of me, here. 

Part Three: 반박불가 

Perhaps not remarkably, the title track doesn’t have nearly as many loreography beats as DiitD. However, we know it’s part of the lore, and this was made abundantly clear simply with that opening move...

This is where we left off TBONTB, but not exactly. There is a slightly different formation of dancers here, which suggests it’s not picking up exactly where TBONTB left off, but rather that this is a cue to let casual fans know, explicitly: yes, this is a continuation of the TBONTB story. 

Some moments don’t have choreography allusions, but they are loud in the MV, such as:

- “Youngjo, would you stop playing with flowers, our lead vocalist is going to Hell.” Ravn, who barely scraped out of Hell last time, ostensibly with Leedo’s help according to the rap line break in the choreography, has a rough time of it in the 반박불가 MV, but Hwanwoong isn’t going to let him fall back into toxic behaviors and lose himself to that psychological prison again. Hwanwoong drags Ravn back out of Hell, but not before Ravn successfully makes contact with Seoho. Obviously, Ravn would be the one to make contact, because Ravn’s still a little on edge about his own conscience and can easily backslide if he wants to. Who does he find down there? Seoho.

- Keonhee, who led the charge to return to Hell, is staying on task but seems to be the chief of operations to Hwanwoong’s chief of intelligence here, exercising his newfound sicko mode. Those two are certainly working hardest at keeping the servants of darkness in check down in the depths so they can make a quick break for it. 

- Leedo’s actually having a grand time fighting his own demons - or rather, smirking at them and realizing that nah, he’s good. He can use his guilt and regret to motivate him towrd good things now. 

- Xion is literally just above all of this and can move between Hell and Earth with ease, so he’s just waiting to see if he has to pull any Fallen God-Prince cards here to save his friends. 

Now, for the key loregraphy moments. It’s obvious that 1Million was choreographing for a new direction in the ONEUS style, here, so it’s nearly bereft of the usual lyricism and formations, but they’re definitely there. Unsurprisingly they almost all deal with Seoho. 

1. God, this moment whips. They’re all working to free Seoho and lock the gates behind them, with Keonhee giving Seoho one final push. That’s not a normal choreography move. That is storytelling and it sticks out like a beautiful sore thumb with an entire sonnet written on it. 

2. With Seoho on lock, now Ravn may break out. He does so rather easily, but it’s not without Hwanwoong’s help. Please notice that Keonhee and Seoho are the two BEHIND him, and what that symbolizes. 

3. This fucking bridge. It’s amazing with the loreography. First of all we have Keonhee, and the Summoning Circle is using the same imagery/texture that was formerly used to represent engulfing fire. Uh-oh.

4. Keonhee reaches out...

... but gets dragged under.

5. (excited football commentator voice) but who’s that on the outside making it to the surface, literally with the support of the other monarchs? IT’S SEOHO (cheers)!!

And Seoho finishes things out in the center, as well he should because he got us into this mess.

Part Four: What just happened to Keonhee

I’m so angry at this post-MV stinger. It took me forever to wrap my brain around what is being suggested here, because I thought “hey wait, the red lighting represents darkness/hell, doesn’t it?? DOESN’T IT?? RBW???? I thought we just GOT OUT OF HELL????

So I leave the final interpretation in everyone's individual hands, but the thought that occurred to me today was: 

What if this entire scenario was a test of resolve and camaraderie, an illusion, a trick by the Devil (or that donger Helios, whatever). What if Keonhee was the only one who saw through this, and the only one who genuinely made it to Earth at the moment he appeared to have been dragged back to Hell? Because, as we know, Keonhee is a tactical genius, a monarch among the monarchs, and all his visual imagery in the MV suggested a sort of power cabal. 

What if he realized that they weren’t all strong enough to face the challenge of breaking this cycle, so he schemed to leave them behind, but leave them safe in the illusion, while he struck out with the power of God and anime on his side.

I... I think Keonhee is about to go kill and dethrone a God, y’all. 

[rebellionbeach]

Down To Earth: The Perfect Rainbow Album

Hello, today I’d like to talk about an album which holds a very special place in my heart.  Down To Earth is the 4th studio album produced by Rainbow and the first not to feature Ronnie James Dio, instead having vocalist Graham Bonnet as the lead.  This album marked the start of the commercialization of Rainbow and to many, saw the decline of the pure medieval rock sound that was first cultivated.  However, I feel that these notions while not entirely false, are far too critical and often pass upon the sheer brilliance of this album so therefore I hope that with this post maybe more would be more willing to open up and actually listen to this brilliant piece of music.

Well, let’s start with the overview, as stated before this album marked the start of Graham Bonnet on vocals who is a stark contrast from Ronnie James Dio.  If there was one way to describe Graham’s vocals on this album it would be sheer power.  The man just belts out many of the tunes in a way where you can tell how much force he’s putting into his vocals.  Many may be dismissive of his performances due to this point but I just absolutely adore it.  The prominent complaint that I find many point out toward his style is the almost screaming-tone he puts out however I don’t think his vocals reach a point where it’s screechy.  Rather it’s a very powerful style that does reach a rather high volume that people may find a little discomforting but he still maintains a great control of his voice as well.  Graham’s range is just incredible, take Only One Woman when he was in the Marbles for instance, a very controlled yet extremely high vocals that he nails.  I find that Graham’s vocals instead enhance the hard rock energy of the songs through his performances and really throughout any album he’s been in.  

This album also saw the introduction to new keyboardist Don Airey and bassist Roger Glover who many will know from Deep Purple.  Roger had also been the producer and advisor to many past and future Rainbow albums however this album marked his true introduction into the band.  They’re both phenomenal and especially Don Airey who you may know as well as the current keyboardist for Deep Purple who is a master of his instrument and breaks out in brilliant solos throughout the album.

Each band member was a true master of their own craft and for this reason Down to Earth really got to shine, as well as the brilliant guidance of Roger Glover who is an excellent producer.  However, starting with the actual album itself, it’s incredibly hard rock.

Sure, it may not be Rising but it isn’t completely watered-down, commercialized tunes made to be played on the radio as well.  Take the beginning tune, All Night Long, which is just a pure hard rock song.  It has a simple yet addicting riff which catches the ears of the listener which is only amplified through Graham’s vocals just belting out that pure rock sound that many claim Rainbow had lost overtime.  The actual difference which I believe many listeners find so unappealing about the album is actually it’s lack of lyrical theming.  Down to Earth was the first album to drop that medieval-style that characterized the band up onto that point.  This was due to Ritchie Blackmore’s desire to appeal to American audiences and have charting singles and, while may be disappointing even to myself, was a task not done in any disrespectful fashion.  The album is still very hard and talks about many hard themes such as in Eyes of the World which many fans cite as the greatest track.  “Evil takes, evil kills, with no shame or concern, killing me, killing you, watch the end of the burn.”  There is still great lyrical writing to be found throughout this album and even in other songs such as a personal favorite, Makin’ Love which, although being a song focused on themes of love and heartbreak, still holds itself in a very respectable fashion.  In fact, several of these songs actually have an alternate lyrical version where you can really find some great stuff.  Take Makin’ Love which originally started as Ain’t a Lot of Love in the Heart of Me and, although is a mouthful, has some great parts that show a hold of the mature theming that many fans desired.

I often like to say that Down to Earth by far had the hardest job to do in the entire history of Rainbow.  With the loss of beloved singer Ronnie James Dio and the shift to a more commercial direction, there is possibility for horrendous backlash from loyal fans who believe that the band has lost their credibility.  In some way, this may have been true yet I still believe that for this brief period of time, Rainbow managed a beautiful balance between hard rock and  commercialization, a fine line that was hard to stay upon and ultimately ended with a lineup that was perhaps doomed to fail from the start.

Nonetheless, what they were able to produce was brilliant and in no better way is this shown through a personal favorite and probably my favorite Rainbow song, Lost in Hollywood.  In many ways, the song reminds me of Deep Purple just because of the sheer talent that is displayed from every member from Cozy’s furious drum intro to Don’s unbelievable keyboard solo that transitions right into Ritchie’s part, similar to many Purple tunes.  The grand scale of the entire piece really sets it apart from the rest of the album and stands out as a shining example of the talents that the Mark 4 lineup had to offer and what they could achieve at their height.  It’s beautiful, bombastic, overdramatic and truly feels like a sending off piece to a brilliant album and lineup.

Just as the title states, this album truly grounded Rainbow back down to Earth and I implore anyone who still has doubts to just give it a listen as I feel that many will be pleasantly surprised.

[kingfallsamtranscripts2]

King Falls AM Episode Twenty-One: Swimmin’ With Kingsie

King Falls AM Transcript

Episode 21: Swimmin’ With Kingsie

Run time: 23:38

First Aired: Mar 1, 2016

Summary: Reverend Xavier Hawthorne unveils his newest plan for King Falls and the boys get a worrisome call from Lake Hatchenaw.

(For a list of characters and references from this episode see the end of this post)

[King Falls AM theme plays, transitioning into mildly creepy piano music]

Commercial: Sometimes in life things don’t go as we have all planned. Sometimes in life it’s easy to get discouraged when plans change. Do you get discouraged when plans change? We don’t. I’m Leland Hill of the Science Institute. Perhaps you’ve heard of us because of the help we do for families and people in need. Locally, globally, internationally. Or maybe you’ve only heard of us because of the suppressive media attacking myself, Science Institute founder Roland Northwoods, and other Science Institute alumni. Or maybe you’re just lost and looking for help in the dark and scary world. Possibly your inner consciousness is reaching out into the unknown, looking for answers. Why are we here? What’s the meaning of life? Why is a medium drink the size of a small bucket at fast food restaurants? Whatever you seek, just know, the Science Institute can help you. We want to help you. We will help you. We are here, King Falls. 

[King Falls theme plays]

Sammy: The Science Institute? Really?

Ben: Keeps the lights on, Sammy.

Sammy: You’d think they could get one of their Hollywood brainwashed pals to at least read their propaganda instead of the ghoulish Leland Hill.

Ben: He does give me the willies but he is also paying the bills!

Sammy: Absolutely! And I’m sure the advertisement budget he’s paying Merv is a drop in the bucket compared to that old compound they’re finishing on Old Bombing Range Road.

Ben: I can see that you are trying your hardest to stay on their good side, Sammy, but let’s stay on track here.

Sammy: (laughs) You got it, we absolutely can, and should, keep it on the rails, I’m sorry. 

Ben: Ooh, that’s the hot-line right on time. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the good Reverend Xavier Hawthorne calling in to tell us about his new venture as well as hopefully taking calls from you lovely listeners!

Sammy: New venture? Did God start paying less?

Ben: (Clearing his throat) Good evening, Reverend Hawthorne! Thank you so much for working us into your busy schedule.

[Reverend Hawthorne dramatic organ intro music]

Deacon Reggie: Ladies and gentlemen of King Falls, please put your hands together, get those hands a clapping, like the girls asses be clappin’ up in the club, put' em together for the one, the only, Reverend… Xavier… get right with Goooood, Hawthorne! Deacon Reggie, out! (Sound of a high five) Go get ‘em, brother.

Hawthorne: (very quietly) Oh Deacon Reggie, thank you so much for that lovely introduction! Appreciate you, fam!

Sammy: Hi, Reverend Hawthorne… and Deacon Reggie.

Hawthorne: Reggie can’t hear ya, he’s going back to his bunk on the bus. He’s got the gift of God though, don’t he?

Ben: That he does! How are you doing this evening, Reverend?

Reverend: Blessed to be here, Benjamin, Samuel. Gentlemen, how are you doing tonight? I said, how are you doing?

Ben: We’re… we’re well.

Sammy: (Laughing) Not too shabby. H-how are you?

Reverend: Very well, very well indeed. I’m sorry it took so long to get this calling to happen. I’ve been a busy, busy man of God these days.

Ben: Indeed you have, Reverend. Is the tent revival business still going well?

Reverend: Where there are sinners there is always a need for salvation. And where there is salvation, there is Reverend Xavier get right with God Hawthorne’s stomping out the devil revival. You got to stomp out that nasty devil! Just stomp him out!

Sammy: You know, you should have that on t-shirts.

Reverend: Already do! Nineteen ninety-nine each or two for forty dollars. You have a keen eye for marketing, Samuel, a keen eye.

Sammy: Reverend Hawthorne, there was mention of you in the King Falls Gazette a week or two back about you possibly settling down in King Falls. Is there any merit to that claim?

Reverend: Now Samuel, I hate to speak out of turn, but let me just say that good things come to those who wait. And good old Xavier has been a waiting a long time to find a parish to call his own. And glory be I think we might have struck a deal at the King Falls First Old Baptist Church!

Ben: Oh wow, so that would-

Reverend: Can I get an amen, brothers?

Ben: A...men?

Reverend: Our prayers have been answered! Just as soon as the check clears the bank…

Sammy: So you signed a deal that would keep the road show-

Reverend: Ah! Stomping out the devil revival!

Sammy: Stomping out the devil revival with a permanent home in King Falls?

Reverend: Well, we’d still tour. That sneaky devil is always popping his head up where he shouldn’t. The ultimate game of wack-a-mole. And you’d better believe we’ll be there to whack him down every time! Every time, devil! Whack-whack-whack!

Sammy: But…

Reverend: But yes, we will have the church as our home base. Praise be!

Ben: Isn’t the First Old Baptist Church a little… what’s a good way to say this… 

Reverend: Oh it’s a sinkhole waiting to happen! But that’s where we come in, Benjamin. We’re going to raise some money from the good folks of King Falls, and we’re going to build that cheeple steeple into the megachurch that the Holy Trinity, that the town of King Falls, and Xavier Hawthorne deserves! 

Sammy: Huh.

Ben: A megachurch? Those are like stadium size churches, right? How will that ever fit on the corner lot First Baptist is on now?

Reverend: Where there is a God’s will, well don’t you know, there's an entrepreneurial way. Eclesiastes 1, 5 through 7.

Sammy: Now Reverend, for those residents who don’t go to church, but would still like to know that they’re helping an institution that will help out their fellow man-

Reverend: I hear the doubt in you, Samuel! And it is strong. And it is scary. I don’t want to go Yoda on you, but you don’t want none of the dark side funk on your everlasting soul, son!

Sammy: Right. Back to the question, I’m assuming that the church will be actively putting money and good will back into the town. Is that correct?

Reverend: You’d better believe it, Sammy. But there’s no other reason to do it than to help out all of God’s children.

Sammy: Some more than others? 

Reverend: We’ll be doing outreach programs, food for the needy, clothes for the poor. We’re working on a deal to rent out the old dilapidated putt-putt place right next to the church as well.

Ben: Oh man! Sir Putts-a-Lot? That was the place to go back when I was in middle school!

Reverend: Sadly, I don’t think it’s seen many good years since then. But we’re going to try to refurbish and reopen as a money making venture for the folks, like you’re speaking of, Sammy, that don’t do church. Now, we’ll be Christian themed, but it’ll still be fun for the non-believers.

Ben: Oh man, I can’t wait. Sammy, the eight hole at Sir Putts-a-Lot was-

Reverend: (Loudly) Glory Holes!

Ben and Sammy: What?!

Reverend: Glory Holes- mini golf for a mighty God. We opened one in Tuscaloosa back in 2013. It’s a proverbial gold mine for God.

Ben: Okay, well that’s… that’s an interesting choice of words.

Sammy: (laughing) I can’t wait to go to Glory Holes! Do you have an approximate grand opening date? You know, that’s something that should be marked on every calendar in town. I’d like to mark it on every calendar in town, actually.

Reverend: As I’ve said, checks have to clear, hands need to be shaken, and prayers need to be answered. We’ll see, but it should be sooner than later, boys.

Sammy: I had questions, but you know what… I can’t follow that. 

Ben: Reverend, would you mind sticking around and taking some calls with us?

Reverend: Absolutely! Anything to spread the good word and the gospel.

Sammy: You heard Xavier’s story, kids, now let’s hear yours. Give us a call at the studio, (424)279-358.

Ben: Uh, before we go to the phone lines! Does God ever, like, intervene in matters of the… heart?

Sammy: Ben.

Ben: You know what I mean. Rev, like, if a boy likes a girl, but the boy made a real righteous ass- excuse my language- out of himself to save the girl from another boy’s affections… creepy, creepy affections?

Sammy: This sounds familiar, Ben. Is this anybody we know?

Ben: I’m asking for a friend.

Sammy: Right.

Ben: So, Reverend, I- I don’t really know how this works, like, if my friend, uh, prays really hard will he-

Sammy: Tilt the odds in his favor.

Ben: Exactly!

Reverend: You know, Benjamin, I think it starts with having a personal relationship with your lord and savior, Jesus Christ, and then feeling it out from there.

Sammy: I think it works for wars and football teams all the time. Give it a shot, Ben.

Ben: Can’t hurt, right?

Sammy: The phone lines are lit up, Buddy.

Ben: Right, uh, right. Heh, we can talk about that later, Rev.

Sammy: Lucky line one, you’re on King Falls AM with the Reverend Xavier get right with God Hawthorne.

Caller: Hey, Sammy. Hey, Ben. Hey, Rev.

Sammy: Ron Begley! How are you doing, sir? Long time no talk!

Ron: Doing just fine, Sammy! Just fine!

Ben: Do you have a question for Reverend Hawthorne?

Ron: Sure thing. Now, Reverend Hawthorne, what would the going rate be to rent old Glory Holes for a private putting party? I got an ex-life partner Bruce looking for a place to get hitched to his fiance, Larry, who happens to be a golf pro.

Reverend: Whoa, now!

Ron: Hello?

Reverend: I’m sorry, Bruce and Larry?

Ron: Yeah! Do you know ‘em? They’re all kinds of religious.

Reverend: You know, I have to get with our finance manager. There’s a lot of moving pieces and- what was it- do y’all hear that? It’s God. He’s a calling me. I got him on the spiritual speed dial. I think I’m losing you, fellas. Let’s chat about-

[The sound of a phone hanging up cuts off the rest of what the Reverend is saying.]

Ron: Hahaha, works every time.

Sammy: I’m guessing there is no Bruce or Larry. 

Ron: Hell yeah there is! And I really wanna rent out a putt-putt place named Glory Holes for the reception, but I didn’t figure that stuffed pudgery would talk about it.

Sammy: I think you’re correct.

Ben: How’ve you been, Ron?

Ron: Uh I can’t complain. But I do anyway. All’s well at the bait shop.

Sammy: And how is, uh… you know.

Ben: Just say it, Sammy!

Ron: You can do it, Sammy! How is who?

Sammy: Oh fine! How is Kingsey the lake monster doing?

Ron: All right! That’s what I’m talking about.

Ben: You did it, buddy. I’m proud of you!

Sammy: Oh, whatever. Saying is not believing, guys.

Ron: One important step closer. She’s doing just fine, by the way. But I gotta tell you, I’ve seen Kingsie more now than I ever have before. Seems like anytime I’m on the lake Kingsie comes right on up. No fear in her at all. It’s the damnedest thing.

Ben: That’s strange, Ron. Wasn’t it just a few months back that you had people out on the lake hunting her almost?

Ron: Yeah I don’t get it. You’d think she’d be more scared of the boat and the people but I’ve seen her visiting boats with my own eyes! I don’t like it.

Sammy: So no more trouble with trespassers, then?

Ron: Not a lick of trouble! I fixed those lousy poaching' sons of whores good!

Sammy: Do we even want to know?

Ron: Let’s just say I might have put some buckshot to some behinds!

Sammy: I’m not touching that one.

Ron: (laughs) That’s what he said.

Sammy: I don’t know if…

Ron: It works, Sammy! Trust me.

Sammy: I’ll just make a mental note not to be out on the lake looking for trouble.

Ben: So uh if you didn’t have a question for the Reverend, what’s going on then, Ron?

Ron: What, a guy can’t call his radio buddies to chat? Isn’t this talk radio?

Ben: Of course! I’m just-

Ron: I’m just messing with you, Ben! I actually do have a topic of discussion for both of you. A bone to pick, if you will.

Sammy: Oh wow, let’s hear it!

Ron: Well it seems that damn near every time I turn on 660 AM you two ruffians are fighting with somebody or getting tossed out of public places. I’d be proud you boys are about to level up your man cards! But I’m a little offended you didn’t come to me for help.

Sammy: With the fighting and getting kicked out of places.

Ron: I’m only partially busting balls here, but it’s partially serious too. You fellas with your fighting, as hot as it may be, ain’t the best for you or us who like listening.

Ben: Let it be known, I was not fighting! I am not a fighter.

Sammy: No, you were sabatoshing and throwing hush puppies!

Ben: Whatever, it still wasn’t a fight!

Ron: Hell, I wouldn’t classify what Sammy the mirror was doing as fighting either, you have to land some strikes and grapples to be a fight! You gotta actually make your hand into a fist to be a fight! Looked like a springtime, fully clothed, roll in the hay! I’ve had dates rougher than that quote unquote fight.

Sammy: Well, uh, obviously, you know I let my emotions get the better of me and it went arye.

Ron: Oh, whatever, Sammy! Not everyone’s meant to be a warrior. What I’m trying to tell you both is you fellas just need to do your fighting over the radio airwaves. You keep the physicalities to the professionals! You’re a bright spot in a lot of people’s nights around here and we can’t have you getting thrown of the air for rabble rousing and half-assed MMAing the jackass mayor.

Sammy: I think I get what you’re saying and we appreciate it, Ron. Believe me we will keep fighting the good fight the only way we know how.

Ron: With your sweet little mouths.

Sammy: I was going to say minds, but sure.

Ron: Alright, fellas. I can hear my radio going off like a son of a b-(beep) in the shop. Better go see what kind of damn fool would be trying to get me in the middle of the night. Take it easy fellas.

[The phone hangs up]

Ben: He’s a trip.

Sammy: He’s something. Line nine you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

[Magical twinkling music starts]

Ben: Oh no, hang it up, Sammy!

Sammy: Wait, what is this?

Ben: Seriously dude, this is bad news. Just push the button and-

Sammy: Hello?

Caller: Oh hello!

Sammy: Hello? We’re here, you’re live with Sammy and Ben.

Ben: Come on!

Caller: Oh splendid! I do love listening to you two!

Ben: Oooh, hi, Gwendolyn.

Sammy: (Amused) You know this lady?

Ben: Unfortunately.

Gwendolyn: It’s Gwendolyn! You’re such a smart cookie, Ben Arnold. So unlike your trailer trash friend Troy!

Sammy: Whoa, ma’am! If you could please not address anybody like that, we’d appreciate it. Sorry, Troy.

Ben: Remember when I asked you to hang up?

Gwendolyn: (Sarcastically) Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend your liberal sensibility! I’ll do my best to shackle my first amendment right to freedom of speech. We wouldn’t want to offend, now would we?

Sammy: Gwendolyn, was it?

Gwendolyn: Oh, it is, darling.

Ben: There’s more to her name, Sammy.

Gwendolyn: My, my, Ben I didn’t realize we were bringing proper titles into this conversation! How fancy. 

Sammy: Oh, like a duchess of York or a princess situation?

Gwendolyn: Well, you could say that.

Ben: (Clearing his throat) Gwendolyn the Racist Witch.

Gwendolyn: It’s like a choir of purebred school children singing when you say it like that, Ben. Now I do prefer Gwendolyn the Hateful, but…

Ben: But one shoe fits better than the other.

Sammy: Gwendolyn, if I may be so bold-

Gwendolyn: You may.

Sammy: Obviously I’m grasping most, if not all of your title, but I’m finding myself a little… hmm.

Ben: Sammy doesn’t believe in witches.

Sammy: That is correct.

Gwendolyn: How very sad! Were you an underprivileged child, Sammy? You sound at the very least like white middle class. Do you not know what a witch is?

Ben: Uh, no, he knows what witches are, he just doesn’t believe in them.

Gwendolyn: Well I don’t believe in Muslim presidents, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have one!

Ben: Ooh, told you to hang up, Sammy!

Sammy: Ma’am, I’m sorry, but if you don’t have a topic that isn’t-

Ben: Racist.

Sammy: Right. Then we’re going to have to let you go.

Gwendolyn: Oh, but I do have a topic, Sammy. I would never call in just to waste your resources like welfare on those-

Sammy: Gwendolyn! I’m not going to let you use this as a forum to spew venom and hatred! There are plenty of other AM radio stations that will let you do that, but we certainly will not.

Gwendolyn: Oooh, strong! Forceful! I like it! You have some aryan in you-

[The phone hangs up with another twinkling sound.]

Sammy: Nope! I tried, I just can’t do it.

Ben: Try living with that your entire childhood! She lived a block over from my mom. You should’ve heard the stuff she’d yell out at little league games!

Sammy: Is that where you learned most of your large vocabulary?

Ben: (Coughing) Hardly! No, uh, line two you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

[The sound of outside night noises (crickets and wind and frogs) begin]

Caller: Oh hiya, Ben. It’s Mr. Sheffield. 

Ben: Hey, Mr. Sheffield, how are you doing this evening?

Cecil: Oh I’m just swell. It’s just so good to hear a friendly voice. Let me ask you something, have you heard from Esther lately? I’ve been putting in those booty-calls but I haven't heard a thing back!

Ben: He isn’t talking about Esther Rollins, is he?

Sammy: Hi, Cecil, are you talking about Esther Rollins from Esther’s Sewing Corner?

Cecil: Ah, you betcha, bud!

Ben: We… I mean, he’s gotta know, right? She passed six months ago or so.

Another person in the background on the line: Damn it, can you hear me?

Sammy: I hate to be the one to tell you this-

Ben: Is that Herschel in the background?

Herschel: Hello!

Cecil: Oh, I know she passed, fellas! But she was still answering her secret number and moseying on over for the longest time!

Sammy: I- I’m sorry… what’s that, Cecil?

Herschel: Did you get those butternut f-(beep) on the phone yet, Cecil? Stop talking about banging a ghost! Is that the dumbass duo? Give me that!

Ben: Are you guys out together… looking for Esther?

Cecil: Oh no, I was just wondering about her and thought you boys were in the know and could help. Me and my best friend are out on the lake tonight and we’re fishing-

Herschel: Don’t tell ‘em, you no good penis wrinkle! This is Herschel F. Bomgardener’s find! Tryna take all my glory. Son of a (beep).

Cecil: I’m sorry. Hersch really wants to tell you guys something. Can you call me back though? About sweet old Esther...

Herschel: Oh Jesus, not one damn person in this town who wants to hear about Cecil Sheffield laying the old ghost post. I’m tired of hearing about it my damn self! You listening King Falls AM?

Sammy: Hi, Herschel.

Herschel: Well don’t sound so excited, Stevens. I’m just dropping the biggest old breaking news money shot all over your face. 

Ben: That’s an image! Uh, what can we do for you?

Herschel: Well for starters, how’s about kissing my ass? And don’t you take a tone!

Ben: There wasn’t a tone! I swear!

Herschel: I’ll never understand your generation. If I talked like that to my elders I’d never have made it past nine years of age! The damn factory foreman would have skinned my hide. 

Sammy: It sounded like Cecil was about to tell us something, and you mentioned breaking news? Is that correct?

Herschel: I’m getting to it! Damn it to hell, boys! Like I used to tell Edna; slow and steady wins the race. Better hurry up, though I’m about to fall asleep. 

Cecil: Hey, Herschel, I don’t think this is Kingsie...

Ben: Kingsie? Is something wrong with her?

Herschel: Do I look like doctor f-(beep) lake monster to you, Ben?

Sammy: What’s going on out there? I assume you two are out on Lake Hatchenaw? 

Herschel: That we are. Me and Cecil are out tonight trying out some new lewers. Real fancy stuff. 

Cecil: Hey, I’m sure this thing ain’t Kingsie, Hersch. 

Herschel: I f-(beep) heard you the first time, Cecil! Jesus Christ! Can’t you see I’m talking on the radio!

Cecil: Sorry, buddy.

Herschel: Ah if I had my gun I’d put that brain-dead dumbass out to pasture. Anywho… goddamn it, what the f-(beep) are we talking about? 

Ben: (Annoyed) You’re on the lake, testing lures.

Herschel: Right, uh, so we hit secret spots, and then, erm try to feel the Cecils out. And wouldn’t you know it, we found that old serpenty b-(beep) Kingsie, belly up.

Ben: What?! 

Herschel: Deader than Rock Hutchson’s affections for the ladies.

Ben: Oh man, I cannot believe that. This- This hurt. I gotta call Ron back.

Herschel: Ain’t no use calling that son of a b-(beep)! I was radioing on his bait shop the last twenty minutes to no avail! Figured he’d want to go out and say his goodbyes before Ray Chin comes out here and suzies her up real good.

Sammy: Ben, give Ron a call so he doesn’t hear about Kingsie like this.

Herschel: Ah she was a damn fine lake monster.

Cecil: (In the background) Herschel this ain’t Kingsie!

Herschel: Didn’t really mess with me and hecklewood, stayed out of my spots. I won’t miss her, but damn if I don’t salute her for knowing some boundaries. 

Cecil: Turn on your damn hearing aid! It’s not Kingsie!

Herschel: Oh, what now? I ain’t too old to dump you wrinkled ass right off the side of this boat.

Cecil: No! Give me the phone!

Sammy: Hey Ben, hold on a second.

Cecil: Hello? Is this Ben Arnold and his buddy? 

Herschel: (From the background) I let you have it you fardknocking old cuss. 

Sammy: You’re live, Cecil. Is what you found on the lake not Kingsie?

Herschel: Let me get a good look at this thing. Hey, shine the light over here, Cecil. Get a little closer.

Cecil: That light fell overboard in Kettleton Cove.

Herschel: G-(beep)-damn it! Watch your dirty cheating crumb catcher! You don’t know what kind of eavesdropping satellites are listening in to scout bots or the bass tourney. Mother f-(beep)!

Cecil: The light is gone, Herschel! Sorry.

Sammy: Fellas?

Herschel: Hey, this may not be Kingsie. Quit whistling f-(beep)-ing dixie and get us closer!

Sammy: It’s not Kingsie, Ben.

Ben: Ohhh thank goodness! What is it?

Herschel: Jesus, I think this is a dead body!

Sammy: It’s a dead body.

Ben: That’s much better than Kingsie… so young… WHAT?! Wait, what?! Again?!

Herschel: It’s all wrapped up in something. But it smells human to me. Pull over closer, Cecil. Jesus Christ, do I have to give you a haunted hanty to get closer to the g-(beep)-damn body?

Cecil: We’re going to go closer.

Sammy: Why don’t we let you guys go so you can call the sheriff’s office. 

Herschel: Eh, it’s so damn dark! Where’s my million candle lamp, you dumbass.

Ben: I’ll call the sheriff’s office. Where are you guys at on the lake?

Cecil: You know I can’t rightly tell you, Ben. Shhh, it’s a secret!

Ben: This is a little more important than the bass tournament, Mr. Sheffield!

Herschel: Don’t you tell ‘em! Tell those pansies to send the coppers to Begley’s. We’ll meet them there. Your big mouth has already broadcasted too much!

Ben: To Ron’s, got it. I’ll make the call, guys.

Cecil: Hey, what’s that noise? Do you hear that, Herschel?

Herschel: Sounds like they’re right over the treeline. We could shine the light if you hadn’t tossed it in the lake!

Cecil: Oh hush!

Herschel: Fifty nine ninety-nine at Sears and Roebuck. Don’t think you won’t replace it-

[There is a loud crashing sound like thunder]

Cecil: What the heck is that?!

Herschel: Well Charlie f-(beep)-ing foxtrot!

Sammy: What’s wrong, guys?

Cecil: Look at those lights… Oh, pretty colors… beautiful…

Sammy: Lights? Is it the UFOs?

Herschel: Gosh, those damn rainbow lights again. We’re not going to catch nary a f-(beep)-ing fish tonight. Son of a buttered up, biscuit eating b-(beep)!

[King Falls outro music and credits begin]

References:

Yoda: a fictional character from Star Wars known for his wisdom and fighting against the ‘dark side’

Glory holes: I’m sorry I’m not going to explain this one… If you’re over 18 feel free to look it up, if you are not please don’t.

MMA: Mixed martial arts

Rock Hutchson: A gay actor

Sears and Roebuck: department stores

Charlie foxtrot: military slang for a chaotic situation

Characters:

Sammy Stevens, Ben Arnold, Leland Hill, Deacon Reggie, Reverend Xavier Hawthorne, Ron Begley, Gwendolyn the Racist Witch, Cecil Sheffield, Herschel F. Bomgardener.

[shijiujun]

On Translations

Once again, I’m just plain incensed by dumbasses who think it’s okay to firstly, steal someone else’s hard work and secondly, think they’ve got some right to edit that person’s work because they think they’ve got a better grip on English (not true btw) - It didn’t happen to me (well, as far as I know) and I’m not in the Guardian fandom and I don’t personally know the person who’s dealing with this ridiculous shit, but oof am I angry after seeing the tweet.

Just saw on twitter that some asshole stole a translator’s works (Guardian, Chinese to English) and edited it - Yes it’s just like the MDZS saga a few weeks ago when some white person who doesn’t have any Chinese language knowledge, tried to ‘improve’ translations done by another person who actually knows what they’re doing in both Chinese and English - And then put in on Wattpad with a ridiculous letter and intro where they said: “Great things can be made greater” to explain why they edited the English of the original translation.

“Great things can be made greater,” said the thief.

“I hope my actions will be appreciated,” said the thief again.

Like wow, once again, the audacity - There’ve been extensive arguments on translations since the MDZS saga a few weeks ago and obviously the fan who took ExR’s translations and ‘made them better’ stupidly stepped on a landmine by fucking with the MDZS fandom that has a longer history, more resources and clout than the amount of time she’s been exposed to MDZS via CQL, and got bitch-slapped by the rest of the fandom where there exists a majority of fans knowing clearly what to do and not to do.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of all fandoms, especially smaller ones - The user i saw is a translator for Guardian and the mofo 1. Stole their translations 2. Edited the translations to ‘better english’ 3. Wrote that they don’t know who did the original translations but “they know where to find me” *cue my eyeroll* 4. And after op commented to say please credit at the very least in May, they’ve been ignored so far - but luckily they’ve got some supporters as well to help report the mofo.

Aside from the ridiculous thievery (not crediting, blatantly lying and stealing, being an arrogant, indecent person stuck on that high horse) of course, the “I believe that great things can be made greater” is a fucking load of bullshit in this instance, and I mean taking someone else’s translations and adding your own spin to it because you think you’ve taken tests in English as a first language in school all your life (fuck off, a lot of these translators did too), that you’ve got some superiority over English or because you think it reads funny?

Granted, most fan translators don’t put up flawless translations (once again, these translators are FREE LABOUR), but you get it for free and you don’t have to (and can’t) read the original text, so suck it up.

Moreover, the disgust that I feel at the claim that the thief’s work is now ‘greater’ is extremely visceral - It’s not a greater piece of work because the thief stole it, period. No one asked for the thief’s help.

(In case you guys are curious the stolen post on Wattpad is here: https://my.w.tt/7dehLj7D56 and if you’d like to report just follow the instructions)

On Chinese to English translations:

1. If you don’t have good grasp of the original language, you have no right editing the translated work after, regardless of language. Until you can clearly understand the original idioms, context, characters etc. or have at least lived with the language for a substantial part of your life, honestly, just stop, you’ve got no right! 

Sure, some translators aren’t as good as you like them to be, but the argument is always, well, you wouldn’t even have this minimal translation if they didn’t do it, so yay you’re like a few sentences and words closer to the text than you were before. If it’s really that bad, hopefully there are better translations and you can ignore the one you’re looking at, but the same rules apply across all translations!! Don’t disrespect the translator (especially when they’ve done nothing wrong except try to give you access to more content).

2. For Chinese, it’s even worse because the language is known for its hidden nuances and complexities within just two to four characters that, when translated into English, can sometimes take up to two long sentences to explain. That’s why sometimes shit reads funny. It’s not that these translators can’t do English, but Chinese to English acrobatics is beyond your comprehension, hell sometimes it’s beyond translators’ comprehension, so thanks for editing something you’ve got no idea about. This user Bee made a very good argument thread IMO about this on Twitter which I suggest people read

3. Adding your edits to a translated piece of work especially without permission or discussion with the translator, honestly who the fuck are you to do that? Either work your damn ass off by painstakingly translating the original and then editing it however you like, or just... enjoy the free content. Chinese BL novels (in this instance and as in many instances i’ve seen) and some of these translators have been around for longer than you’ve been in the fandom, so suddenly when you have an interest in the content, in a culture and language that you’ve never seen before, are unfamiliar with and have zero knowledge about, you think that as a fan you now have the right to edit someone else’s work that was already done correctly? 

The fact is if the translator wrote a bogus line in the English translations, you wouldn’t have known, and when you upload it as your own and ‘improve’ it, you would be a joke, but you didn’t read the original text did you, so what makes you are any sort of authority to edit the translations?

4. Of course this is not to say that non-Chinese speaking people can’t enjoy the same content or have excellent, poignant discussions and understanding over the content, but honestly a lot of translations don’t capture 100% of a Chinese novel because the nuances are just that complex, and translators do their best to convey it regardless - This is why RESPECT FOR THE TRANSLATOR IS IMPORTANT. And I don’t mean simply paying lip service and typing “we respect all translators for their hard work on this work”, and then disrespect it entirely by not crediting, by the simple act of editing without permission etc.

Respect their interpretation and translations, because it can differ from translator to translator translating the same sentence (and people who don’t speak the original language want to compete with that, I don’t understand?!)

5. Honestly, considering how people are still arguing on the semantics of the Bible for example, not only in its original language but also in English alone - if people can’t agree on every sentence of the holy text and what each sentence means to different people, fan translators get a fucking pass

6. I read in Bee’s threads where someone disagreed with their argument of ‘only people who understand the original language can translate and edit’, saying that it’s okay if the editor doesn’t have a grasp of the original language - I understand that yes, someone else’s English might truly be better (for e.g. actual editors but also please don’t proclaim that you’re one just because you think the translator hasn’t lived with English for most of their lives or whatever), but even then, the editor has to work really closely with the translator because the translator is the primary source of the translation i.e. they know exactly what is going on in a particular sentence in their heads that may not have been translated fully, so how can non-Chinese reading editors truly understand the translated text on its own, editing in silos?

7. Perhaps in actual publishing houses that deal with official translations, this is a fallacy that is ever-present and editors do that anyway without understanding the original text (not sure about this, I’m bringing up the point for consideration, hypothetically putting this out here), but my issue with ‘editors’ in the fan translations space is that they come off sitting on some high horse because they think they’re better in English than you are (which of course yes, might be true, but then read points 1-6 again)

8. A thief is a thief, don’t put up an open letter or disclaimer explaining your motivations. It’s plain and simple, you stole someone else’s work, claimed it for your own and are riding on the great (sometimes not so great but still great, if you get what I mean) work that the translator did. You don’t get to claim ownership for any part of it, even your edits. And once again, “original work belongs to the translators” without actually naming the translators? Fuck off.

9. God, I hate Wattpad and Instagram (okay sometimes Twitter but Twitter seems to be a halfway point) - The Sanctuaries for Lazy Content Thieves Where The Platform Endorses Their Shitty Behaviour

10. Aside from translations, I’ve also seen assholes stealing like shitposts and jokes - These are the hardest to prove as well and it’s almost impossible to claim ownership when someone steals your jokes. Thieves only wish they had as creative a brain as some of you (didn’t happen to me but to a mutual) do. The audacity. The audacity! if the work was actually done and paid and recorded, if TurnItIn.com was available for fandom posts, these thieves would be out of gas.

11. Fan translators are not obligated to answer to any of their readers when it comes to why they translated something a certain way. You don’t like it or don’t agree with it, simply ignore, close the tab and go find another translation you like, it’s that simple. Nowadays readers 1. Threaten/Diss the translator directly and rudely 2. Steal the work 3. Add their own spin on it without understanding the original content and say: Yay! Look at this I made it so much better so give me some attention 

*****

The point of this post is not to claim ownership over any fandom or content just because translators or Chinese-speaking/reading people in the fandom know the content better. It’s also not to say that non-Chinese speaking/reading people can’t enjoy, understand, have great discussions over original Chinese content, because just from MDZS alone you can see that they can. Of course there are also individuals who might not be able to speak the language but are familiar with Chinese culture etc. because they’ve studied or lived it well, or maybe they’ve actually watched decades of Chinese drama to be able to analyse it properly now, all that’s awesome. 

Also, I’m all for people who are learning Chinese (or any language for that matter) to translate something as practice. That’s great, that’s good, that’s to be admired!! 

It’s non-Chinese speaking/reading people who claim they know the original content better than translators without any discussions, claiming some superiority over the content because they think the translation is not done well enough without doing any of the ground work that I really have an issue with (and also the fuckers who steal of course XD).

*****

And unfortunately I had too much time on my hands today and got pissed off after seeing the tweet so some of you have to read through this drivel XD

[hysteriium]

Can’t Help Falling In Love

(A/N): Okay so I originally made this for one of my bois @jane-may​ though I extend it to everyone who’s having a tough time! Y’all are strong and I stan you! 

Summary: Arthur calms you down during a panic attack. 

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x reader. 

Word Count: 2465.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety; 

////

Anxiety Headcanons: 

Incredibly understanding - he’s well acquainted with anxiety and just how bad it can be. So, he knows or at least likes to think he knows, how to help. 

While he had to endure a lot of it alone, he doesn’t want you to suffer the same fate - that’s literally the last thing he wants. 

His favourite thing to do is try and distract you, to try and get you to focus on your surroundings, as opposed to the actual symptoms themselves; uses the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. 

Will tell you to take deep breaths as he seats you somewhere comfortable, either the couch or the bed. 

If you weren’t home, he’d promptly pull you aside and pull you into him, whispering soothing things into your ear; a gentle hand would reach up and rest against the back of your head as he did so. 

Whether you were having panic attacks, negative thoughts/spirals, or perhaps, the whole shabang, he’d tell you how much he loved you and how proud he was of you for coming as far as you had. 

He’s a sap, meaning he’d downright compliment and praise you until his face turned blue (lol). He wouldn’t let you doubt yourself, and if you didn’t believe his reassurances, he would 100% make it his mission to prove it. 

Lots and lots of kisses. Hands, cheeks, your forehead - you name it. 

Arthur is BIG on affection. He really loves hugs, and he feels as though a really long one could solve any problem. 

Literally hates seeing you sad and stressed, so he’ll tell you one of his jokes from his journal. Anything to distract you. 

Sometimes he does panic when you have a particularly bad attack. It isn’t because he’s overwhelmed, it’s more so him freaking out about how his tactics aren’t working - about how he’s unable to assist. He’d pretty much feel helpless. Like stated earlier, he really hates seeing you so distressed. 

Regardless, he sticks by you for however long you need. He wouldn’t dream of leaving you in the middle of an attack. 

One of his favourite things to do when he sees you stressing is to play with your hair or trace soothing patterns into your skin.  

After the attack - HE WILL DANCE WITH YOU. 

SORRY, THIS IS NOT OPTIONAL. 

This bad boi will pull you into his arms and start swaying with you to some funky jazz tunes whether you like it or not. 

Will not stop until he’s seen you laugh, or, at the very least, smile. 

////

Today had definitely not been your day. While you had been on edge for most of it, feeling the sinister itch of anxiety in the back of your mind, you tried your hardest to work through it; to get on with your day. Some part of you, faded along with the negative thoughts - a gut feeling - knew, however. Knew that the crucial question wasn’t if you were going to have a panic attack - it was when. In all cases, it felt inevitable. 

Rain pelted the window - Gotham’s signature song as you found yourself alone in Arthur’s apartment. He’d left a little bit ago, promising to only be a moment as he mumbled something about groceries. 

In the space of what had probably been an hour since Arthur’s departure, your theory had been correct. Like the opportunistic beast it was, your anxiety had decided it was the perfect time to flare up. The telltale signs - ragged breathing, the hammering of your heart which matched the booming of thunder, upon the multitudinous concoction of other symptoms created the perfect storm; much like the one outside. 

As the seconds passed and the poor weather continued its total pandemonium, your neurotic state worsened. The last straw was when your chest started to close up, constricting as if you had been sat on; about to be crushed. Familiar were the knots in your stomach, twisting and turning. 

In one cataclysmically exhausting whirlwind of thoughts, one that virtually took all your energy to keep at bay, you felt the jitters in your leg and the compulsive fidgeting which followed behind, manifest. In the dim lighting of the room, you curled up into the sofa’s side, trying to remember what you had been taught for times precisely like these. How you were meant to breathe, use your logic, even if you were, for the most part, stripped of it. To try and focus on other things, repeat the mantras that you had once found calming. You conjured the reassuring voice of your lover, remembering Arthur’s soothing words and how he worked you through prior attacks.  

Yet still, you couldn’t breathe.

Perhaps luck had been shining down on you in that moment. You certainly felt so when you heard ruckus behind the front door. The key scraped against the lock, a recurring phenomenon which was then followed by a soft curse, leading to Arthur’s eventual success as he stumbled inside. 

“I’m ba-” 

Arthur froze when he saw your cowering form. 

He pushed the door closed with his foot, knowing immediately what was happening and abruptly dropped the bag of groceries onto the floor with a thud. Without stopping, he hurried over. 

“Hey, hey, look at me,” his voice sweetly requested as a hand gently moved your face to look down at him. 

In his crouched position his leg was tucked underneath him while his other rested against the couch’s foundations. Arthur’s thumb started to rub soothing circles into your flesh once his hands fell to yours, immediately snapping to your action plan. 

“Tell me five things you can see.”

Nodding, you obeyed. The mere euphony of his utterance already had you calming, a tender warmth which began to thaw out anxiety’s glaciers. After your eyes darted across the room, you listed the first things you could see. 

“I-I” You swallowed as you tried to get a grapple on your wobbling vocals, “I see the curtains.”

“Tell me about them.”

 “They’re hideous,” You replied, prompting a laugh from your lover. The delicate creases around his eyes - laughter lines - had been enough to momentarily halt your disquietude, a short-lived delight replacing it. 

“What else?”

“An-and I see Murray.”

You moved to point towards the tv in front of you. Arthur moved aside when your wobbly arm extended. A small smile graced his features when he drank in the man dancing along to the intro, perfectly in time with the sporadic notes of the live band. 

No matter how much he loved the show however, he loved you more. This was evident in the way he quickly turned back to you, a silent signal to continue; to reduce your apprehensive state. While the twitching of your fingers was yet to pause, their ache to squirm overbearing, you were sure Arthur picked up on the way your breathing had started to regulate.

“Um, the” your eyes darted to the floor, your toes wiggling against the fluffy feeling of the synthetic fibres, “the carpet...”

Moving your foot slightly, you watched as the action revealed a sinister blob. You weren’t entirely sure how it got there, even Arthur was confused when you had casually brought it up. Arthur must’ve followed your gaze because you both spoke at the same time.   

“And its stupid stain-”

 “The stain.” 

You breathed through your nostrils in a subtle amusement as his lips upturned; relishing in fact he knew you so well. You hadn’t been kind to that rug, not even in its debut, and you knew he felt as though he was more likely to witness hell freeze over before he’d witness you display a shred of warmth towards the piece. 

Once more, your eyes bounced around the room to find another object. Placed delicately against the closed window, you noticed small green stems protruding from a red brick coloured pot. 

“The plant we’ve somehow managed to keep alive.” 

An arrangement of white rings wrapped around each extension, the mere sight of the potted plant brought on a deep fondness - reminiscence with a tone of yellow; of sunshine and fresh air. You and Arthur had somehow ended up buying a zebra succulent. It was an impulsive decision, one that had almost led to its unfortunate death an embarrassing number of times. 

From overwatering to all too friendly bursts of wind threatening to topple the plant, to forgetting to water it entirely, the succulent that had been named ‘Victory’ for its unlikely survival. Most certainly a hero to all succulents out there, the flora continued to trudge on, despite life having tested it. In some strange way, the plant had binded the ends of your relationship together, strengthening it with a flame - prevented it fraying. 

  “Victory…” Arthur furrowed his brows, “Tory.” 

“Tory,” you repeated, smiling. 

“One more left,” he squeezed your hand. 

Your eyes remained on him, flickering over his dishevelled appearance. You had only managed to notice his state then, with the heavy burden of worry elevated. His hair was wet, soaking really, and his clothes were just as much. It was a miracle he wasn’t shivering. 

“You’re all wet.” 

His brows upturned at your laughter, his own amusement following behind. He mumbled something about managing to keep undercover for the most part, and the imagery of him trying to do so was something you found adorably amusing. 

You had somehow forgotten about the turbulence of the weather, and when you were so rudely reminded with a clap, you jumped. It had caught you off guard, and the sound was so loud it shook the window frame. Whether that was just the shitty Gotham apartment you found yourself in, or if it had hit the building you weren’t sure. 

Arthur perked up when he saw you jump at the thunder, his lips instinctively pressing against the soft skin of your hand, leaving a warm tingle. 

“You’re okay,” he whispered, “you’re doing so well.” 

“Now tell me, what can you touch?” 

“Your hands…” you gave them a quick squeeze before pulling away, his arms moving to rest against his knee while yours moved to your sides. 

“The couch.” 

Arthur nodded at your words, his bright blue eyes reflecting encouragement. 

“My hair,” you said, twirling a strand with your trembling hands.

“Your hair” you laughed again when they dove into his wet locks. Arthur scrunched up his nose and shut his eyes with a smile. Then, he shook his head against your hand. The goofy action sprayed gentle droplets of water on your skin, making you giggle in surprise. 

His hands interlocked with yours once more.  

“What can you hear?”

��Rain...cars.” 

“Gotham never sleeps,” Arthur quipped. 

By then, your breathing had completely righted itself, a lot of your symptoms had dissipated, and you were starting to find yourself more grounded in the moment. Thoughts no longer raced. Hot and cold flushes no longer gripped you. You had started to feel some semblance of control. 

“Smell?”

“Vanilla - the candle I lit earlier...your...your cologne.” 

The scents tickled your nose, the latter smell, Arthur’s cologne, a particularly welcoming scent. You mentioned often enough how much you liked it, and it was apparent it was no coincidence that he started wearing more of it. 

“And finally, what can you taste?” 

“Strawberry lip balm,” your nose wrinkled as you focused on the strange flavour. 

Arthur gave you a funny look, one that challenged your disgust. 

“Trust me, it’s not as good as it sounds.” 

“Let me check,” a cheeky grin befell your lover.    

You responded by playfully pushing his shoulder. In seconds, he had shot up from the ground, hands latching onto your forearms, pulling you up with him. A surprised gasp left your mouth, though it hardly wiped off Arthur’s evident joy. With a certain finesse, the man twirled you into him, his lips finding yourself sweetly. They moved against yours, a simple, yet mind-numbing act; an act in which completely transformed the last of your nerves into dazzling butterflies. 

When Arthur eventually pulled away, his stunning eyes searched yours for any traces of your panic. 

“You’re right, it’s not as good as it sounds,” he said, urging you to jokingly roll your eyes. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better now,” you giggled, brushing your nose against his.

The smile was still yet to leave him when he gradually pulled away, arms leaving your waist, “wait here.”

You watched him skip to his record player - a beautiful antique thing. It was a delicate and cherished object, one adored by the man who was about to place a record into it. As the circular frame was hidden from your perspective, you were forced to wait, rendering the song a complete and utter mystery. His skilful movements eventually produced a scratch, and then, a song. 

It was a song you instantly recognised. 

Wise men say only fools rush in

The realisation made you giggle while his twirling form made his way towards you. 

But I can’t help falling in love with you

Shall I stay?

You watched his shoulders sway with the tune, and the way his feet moved oh so gracefully - better than you could ever hope to coordinate.

Would it be a sin?

If I can’t help falling in love with you?

Then, suddenly, he was in front of you, hovering over you while an inviting hand extended. When you wordlessly accepted, you were suddenly in his arms again. 

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be

His guiding hands found your waist, encouraging their soft sways. As music filled the apartment, your worries melted away. No longer conscious of the storm outside, which had yet to halt. No, you were transported into your own personal bliss, your head resting fondly on Arthur’s shoulder. Anxiety was no more than a distant memory, no longer gripping you in an iron chokehold; it had evanesced entirely. 

Take my hand, take my whole life too

For I can’t help falling in love with you

Before you knew it, the song neared its end, and Arthur’s frame had pulled away to glance at you.

“For I can’t help falling in love with you,” he sang adoringly, finishing the lyrics with a lightness. His eyes then flickered towards your lips. 

Not missing a beat, you softly captured his in another kiss. Tilting your head to deepen the affection, your arms crossed behind his neck. Your giddiness went straight to your head, leaving you dizzy, while the swirls of infatuation bubbled from deep within.

When you finally pulled away, his head rested against your forehead. Nothing else mattered in that moment - not even Arthur’s drenched clothes. All that mattered was the way you felt in his arms.

Just him.