#he's advising I get critical illness cover instead

[thequeensbastardenglish]

ahahaha just found out that now I have an official adhd diagnosis I am no longer eligible for income protection. what a crock of shit.

[lovelyjasmari]

Pomefiore Endnote - Perfectionism, Apathy and the True Tragedy of Book 5

Warning: Long post and pic heavy.

So…this is something of a continuation of my last twst reaction post, where I analyzed the Absolutely Beautiful dance video. I ended the post by saying that the true tragedy was not that NRC Tribe lost but that Vil could be convinced he was an inferior performer compared to Neige. Now I’m going to expand on that…in excruciating detail. XD

In all seriousness, though, I'm not really sure if I'd call this an analysis in the traditional sense. Maybe more like a long-winded rant based on canon observations. But all the same, I’ve been grappling with this for the last year and a half since when Book 6 first dropped in EN. I’ve wanted to share my thoughts for a long time but decided against it because I acknowledge how contentious this topic is in the fandom and I prefer to keep my online space as drama-free as possible. I also didn’t want anyone to get the idea I’m attacking others when at most, I’m just being critical. 

But with the new story update imminent and it looking like it will be Pomefiore-centric, I’ve come to the realization that if I don’t share this soon, I never will. My timing is admittedly ass but I think it would be worse if I share this AFTER the update and you’re about to understand why.

So before we dive in, disclaimer. This is going to cover the end of Book 5 and the first few chapters of Book 6 and my in-depth opinions on both. There will be mentions of trauma/mental illness and some very blunt (but honest) Rook criticism. But please keep in mind, that while I have my own interpretation of the twst characters and their respective arcs, I am not Yana and ultimately, my opinions are just that. Opinions. Everything I say is subjective at best but a lot of what’s coming up is based on a blend of canon observations as well as my own specific, personal experiences as someone with very similar life experiences as Vil and has been dancing for most of her life.  

Still, these are just opinions and I have no intention to offend anyone. But if you don’t like reading negative things about Rook or take issue with this general way of thinking, I HIGHLY advise you to ignore this and respectfully (or quietly) agree that we disagree.

When I wrote the greater bulk of this, it was around when Book 6 dropped in EN. A year has passed since then and I’ve had time to think more about my opinions here and, to a greater extent, how I feel about Book 5. This may sound strange but I feel that Book 5 is both the best and worst part of twst’s main story to date. I really like how it touched upon something that isn’t really isn’t talked about much; how we as a society both admire beauty but also vilify it. Vil’s primary dilemma is how he is wrongfully villainized for his beauty, wealth, and harsh personality, despite subverting expectations of cruelty at every turn. Ironically, when the fandom mischaracterizes him as vain, cruel, classist, racist and the like, they are falling into that same literary trap. Proving the point of his arc.

And as much as I hated the ending from an emotional point of view, I actually love it as well, ironically for reasons that might not have been intentional. What I hated, mostly, was the fandom’s response. There was a great opportunity here for some deep discussion regarding society’s views on beauty, how constant trauma causes us to internalize false perceptions of ourselves, and the rather fascinating/dangerous dynamic Vil has with his vice dorm leader. Instead, any interesting discourse has been lost in all the misinterpretations of Vil. To the point I wonder if we all actually read the same story. I’m disappointed in the fandom, but somehow not surprised either.

But regardless, Rook’s actions were extremely disquieting but not for the reasons you might think. There was nothing wrong with his decision but the way he went about it and how he (and Vil) tried to justify it really left such a nasty taste in my mouth and I gotta talk about it to get it out.

First I just want to commend Vil for his level of maturity and rationality regarding his overblot. Even when it was happening, not once has he tried to justify his actions and in fact it was his own guilt at his potential wrongdoing that ultimately caused it. His fear that in a brief, desperate attempt to be seen as not a monster, he became exactly that. Throughout Book 5, it is implied that Vil already sees himself as a villainous person and internalizes that image of himself almost with pride. But despite this false perception, his actions have always proven the opposite and it’s clear that Vil has always valued being altruistic, determined and just. And his guilt when he failed to meet his own standards was beyond compare.

I feel that this guilt sets Vil apart from the other overblots thus far. Most importantly, he apologized of his own volition and wasn’t forced to. That alone makes him stand out among the overblot characters and, to my mind, makes him the most compelling of them all. If I’m being completely honest, out of all those who have overblotted thus far, Vil has been the LEAST problematic even before his overblot. And the one instance where Vil displayed any “cruelty” beforehand is EXTREMELY subjective. (his treatment of Epel) But the fact that Vil has been the least problematic overblot student so far also makes him the most tragic. And makes what’s about to happen next all the more disturbing.

Interestingly enough, Jamil is correct about this but for the wrong reason and here comes the first point. There was no indication that the audience was anything but enthralled with NRC Tribe. And if Vil or any of the others made significant mistakes, because of Vil’s fame, I’m certain they would have been pointed out by magicam netizens. With the recent release of the Absolutely Beautiful mv over on twst jp, we now also have a visual to go off from. 

I talk about this more in a previous post but basically, yes, NRC Tribe’s performance wasn’t perfect, but based on what I saw, I would have expected A LOT worse considering the circumstances. The fact is all evidence points to the NRC boys giving a wonderful performance made all the more remarkable by the fact they were still able to perform after dealing with Vil’s OB not too long before. And the audience clearly thought so too if they were only one vote away from victory. 

To add to this point, when the other characters comment on the NRC Tribe’s performance, they make no mention of any noticeable errors. And when Crowley laments their defeat later, again, there’s no mention of any errors. Considering that Ambrose was pretty pretentious about RSA winning, I'm sure he’d mention that, too. 

Even further, one thing you learn from being on stage is that your audience rarely notices mistakes unless they are extremely obvious. You, as the performer, might notice, but you quickly learn not to draw attention to your errors and keep it moving. Now of course, the NRC characters could be biased because they want to defeat RSA. But considering the nature of a lot of them, I doubt they would lie so flagrantly. Especially Jack who is pretty no-nonsense even with the people he likes. And Malleus who seems pretty difficult to impress. So if their commentaries are to be believed, this shows that any errors made by the NRC Tribe were not noticeable. 

That Vil would think otherwise speaks to something far deeper and far more insidious. Stick a pin in that; we’ll come back to it soon enough.

Vil then goes on to explain to the boys that Neige and his friends worked just as hard and had their own struggles. That Neige grew up in an improvised environment and had to juggle acting obligations with household chores and helping out the dwarves. Again, it is extremely commendable that Vil is able to acknowledge this about this rival. It shows that his contempt for Neige was never as simple as “boo hoo people think he’s more beautiful than me” and he at least respects Neige’s efforts even if this explanation once again falls flat. 

Firstly, narratively speaking it doesn’t make sense that Vil is just finding out about Neige’s backstory now (likely from Rook) because I feel like he should already be aware. In fact, all through Book 5, I thought that he did know but didn’t care. Honestly, Neige’s backstory shouldn’t matter to Vil anyway and surprisingly, it’s Ace of all people who explains why.

Neige’s struggles might matter to his fans but at the end of the day if Neige cannot perform better than Vil, then that’s his own fault. There are many artists out there who have to deal with similar struggles but come out as phenomenal performers and yet Neige’s “best” basically consists of the twst equivalent of this meme. Precious, but cannot compare to all the sweat and tears Vil and his team were put through. 

There’s actually an interesting analysis floating around this hellsite about how Neige’s childish performance was actually an incredibly manipulative tactic and could have been intentional if he were a different character. I’m not gonna link it cause I don’t want to bring any heat to the op. But I will say that while I don’t think Neige intended to manipulate the audience with his cuteness, in the end, it did indeed work in his favor. And the fact that Vil thought to train Epel to weaponize his cuteness to defeat Neige indicates that he’s already no stranger to seeing such underhanded tactics in the industry he works in. In his beansday vignette, Vil mentions an actor he initially admired destroying one of his stage outfits. If Neige weren’t presented as so naive and twisted from a traditionally “good” character, his choice regarding his performance could be regarded as deliberate. Which is why Vil lamented that he and his team had been “outplayed”.

Back on topic, what I took away from this was that, once again, Vil’s hard work and determination count for nothing because of things he cannot control. Because he was born to wealth, because he didn’t have the same hardships, he doesn’t deserve the same consideration or sympathy as Neige. And his wealth and beauty once again put him in the position of villain to Neige’s hero. It’s a textbook case very common in media, like Sharpay opposing Gabriella in High School Musical. But what’s worse is that from all that we’ve seen of Vil, he could coast on his wealth, beauty and father's fame if he wanted to. 

Instead, he chooses to work hard and have his accomplishments come from his own merit. When anyone else in his situation could easily choose the opposite. And just from a personal standpoint, if I practiced day and night for a dance competition and ended up losing to someone under my level simply because they were cute and disenfranchised, I would feel extremely insulted. At the end of the day, Ace is correct and whatever struggles Neige and his team had, they were still inferior performers. 

And to add to this point, I believe that at some point Vil KNEW this even AFTER his OB. Despite his earlier anguish at never being able to perform innocent cuteness like his rival, once his mind was clearer, he was able to see that NRC Tribe’s performance was still technically better. He was able to see how the audience responded to Neige and still believed in himself as a better performer. I say this based on another scene earlier in book 5. 

Vil was undoubtedly in a very emotionally vulnerable place right after his overblot. He went to great lengths to conceal the aftereffects before going on stage to the point he collapsed as soon as he was alone. After going so long trying to hide them, his darkest, ugliest emotions were laid bare to his teammates and to himself. Manifesting in the worst way possible. And as a professional performer, if any errors were made, he would have been painfully aware of them.

And yet, despite having just dealt with the darkest moment of his life, Vil was still able to stand upon the stage until the very end and give the best performance he could. Against all odds, before a world that has wrongfully perceived him as evil and hideous for most of his life.

And despite knowing that Neige possesses all that he never can, it is strongly implied that Vil still chooses to vote for his own team. Meaning he saw the appeal in Neige’s performance and STILL knew that he did better. And I’d like to believe that even if Vil was aware of Neige’s backstory, he would have still made the same decision. It’s easy to be beautiful when everything is right and perfect in your world. But being able to smile even when you’re struggling and your heart is breaking is even more beautiful still. 

Sadly, Vil isn’t likely to realize this anytime soon and will continue to see his own mental struggles as not as valid or “ugly.” Now back to that original pin of thought, Vil will likely continue to believe that he didn’t deserve to win the VDC despite all evidence to the contrary. He’s likely to continue internalizing the false villainous image of himself as well. And for that we now must get to the crux of this matter.

At first glance, this statement doesn’t seem like much but when you look deeper, and look back at some of Rook’s own actions, this comes off as incredibly hypocritical and cruel. As we have seen from Vil’s backstory, he has dealt with untold hardships as well. But Vil’s anguish is more internalized than Neige’s and it’s very unlikely that he has ever really been open about how dehumanizing and hurtful his treatment has been. 

And from an outsider’s perspective, his problems aren’t as dire anyway. It’s just like Vil said, his life has been quite different from Neige’s. But mental trauma doesn’t know demographics and can affect anyone. The fact is what Vil has gone through is extremely traumatizing and comes from nothing beyond people wrongfully vilifying him for his beauty. Projecting their insecurities onto him from a very young age. It’s clear that what Vil has dealt with has fundamentally altered how he sees himself. 

But at the same time, what do you think would happen if Vil WAS more open about his frustrations? The dehumanizing effect and the bullying? The typecasting and prejudice thrown his way? And the feeling that nothing he does will ever be enough to break free from his villainous mold? What would happen if Vil were to be open about ANY of that? He would be mocked and shamed and perceived as shallow, petty and crying about nothing. Lowkey how many in the fandom already see Vil anyway. We as a society sadly don’t take mental illness as seriously as we should but when celebrities deal with it? It quickly becomes meme fodder and nowhere is this more obvious than on stan twitter. We are all guilty of feeding into it, whether we’re honest about it or not. 

Ironically, Vil’s mental struggles is one of the things that would make him more “relatable.” But the truth is that people would never accept that because society has a long history of trivializing the mental issues of celebrities because they seem so far removed from normal people. And then being surprised pikachu faced when they do something drastic to themselves. So Vil internalizes all of it because he knows he can’t be open about it. 

A person like him simply can’t be open about his hardships but HERE is the kicker: neither can Neige. He also has an image of perfection to uphold so it is likely he is also internalizing mental struggles of his own. Living and caring for seven others can’t be easy in addition to trying to grow his career. And if his deeper origins are anything like his Disney counterpart, how he came to live with the dwarves must have been traumatic as well. 

But here’s the difference: from Rook’s perspective, he is “better” at internalizing those ugly emotions than Vil is. After all, Neige is able to overcome all his struggles and still smile and not give hints to them, but when Vil finally buckled under all of his own trauma, we see what happened. 

There’s also the fact that since Rook and Neige attend different schools, Rook doesn’t have as close a seat to any of Neige’s more personal troubles. So it’s likely easier for Rook to project his own ideas of beauty onto Neige because from his perspective, he is perfect. He is beautiful. He is pure. Like the legendary singing princess Rook so reveres. He isn’t plagued with any of the ugly emotions that caused Vil to overblot. And if Neige DOES have ugly feelings or ugly trauma responses, Rook isn’t privy to them, so they clearly must not exist. 

I genuinely believe that THIS is what Rook meant when he stated Vil’s performance wasn’t as beautiful as Neige’s. I know he mentions another reason at the end of book 5 but in my mind, they are both one and the same. Whatever technical difficulties NRC Tribe had, they were still polished enough to garner enough votes that it was only Rook’s flawed ideology that sealed their fate. And throughout book 5, Rook is hinted at being aware of Vil’s internal struggles and yet still chose to stay silent. He frequently saw that Vil was struggling but tried to justify his silence by saying it wasn’t his place to interfere. 

But that is also untrue because we’ve seen time and again Rook is more than willing to stick his nose in Vil’s businesses. His labwear vignette is the most obvious example but there are plenty of others. In Book 6 Rook admits that his decision to go to the Isle of Woe was fully a selfish one. Leaving Pomefiore without leadership and potentially falling into chaos (the only dorm to have no clear leadership at all during the crisis) simply because he wanted to give Vil skin products that he really didn’t need. A few days without them wouldn’t do that much harm and Rook essentially placed Epel, Yuu and himself in great danger for a reason far more shallow than anything Vil has done in the name of beauty. 

He also admits that he would have been willing to drink the poisoned juice Vil gave to Neige for again, a pretty shallow (and extremely twisted) reason. If he’s willing to do that, he is more than capable of intervening in other matters on Vil’s behalf. And later in book 6, it’s revealed that Rook was originally a Savannaclaw student but made the very unprecedented decision to transfer to Pomefiore in part due to his fascination with Vil and desire to further study beauty under him. So Rook had EVERY opportunity to step in regarding his overblot. Even if Rook couldn’t be his “savior”, the fact that Vil would see that he at least had support could have gone a long way. 

But Rook’s silence is rather in keeping with his character and his own ideas about beauty. I find this quote very ironic based on how he and Vil are frequently misconstrued. The Pomefiore dorm leaders' views on beauty appear to be the opposite of each other. 

Vil can be extremely strict, harsh and can come off as critical at times, but he is never harder on someone than he is himself. He has shown time and again that he sees beautiful potential in anyone. And Vil is more than willing to share the spotlight with his NRC Tribe; build them up from scratch and give each of them the chance to show off their potential. Likely because he knows all too well what it means to be in the shadow of someone else. 

Even further, when we look at the dichotomy of a villain versus a hero, the main difference is how they respond to their personal pain. A villain takes their pain and says “the world hurt me so I’m gonna hurt the world”. While a hero says “the world hurt me and I’m not going to let it hurt others”. Up until his overblot, Vil has been the latter of these examples. He wants the best for those around them and while his methods might be difficult to understand, they always bear results. Vil can honestly see beauty in anything, even if he has to coax it out in his own way. 

Rook’s views on beauty however, all seem to be based upon the superficial and the evidence can be found in his Halloween vignette. There, he explains further how he grew to adore Neige and based on what he said, it sounded more like obsession than actual reverence. There’s also hints to this in his most recent birthday vignette as well. His ideas seem to be very fantastical, far removed from reality and so obsessive to the point that it actually affects his ability to be a good person. Such an obsession can sometimes make people oblivious to the world and in Rook’s case, often cause him to act out in ways that border on problematic. 

In his fixation, he stalks Leona and Jade, says some weirdly otherist shit to Malleus, harasses and assaults Ruggie, and places ridiculously high standards on both Vil AND Neige that rob them of their humanity. Rook saw firsthand how deeply Vil’s insecurities ran. He heard Vil cry and scream out how ugly he felt. He saw Vil’s anguish and despair firsthand and seeing all that, still chose to punish him because Vil’s lack of confidence made him unable to respond to his trauma in a beautiful way. Or at least in a way he could deem as beautiful based on his vapid description of the word. 

Rook will likely never be privy to any ugliness Neige has displayed so for him, the fantasy remains intact. And in chasing that fantasy, he betrays not just Vil, but his other teammates as well. Then has the audacity to try to justify it with bullshit ideology and sadly, because of Vil’s low opinion of himself, Rook succeeds. Vil holds Rook’s opinion so highly that he is able to take advantage of that and compel him (and the others) to see his point of view. And believe it or not, in chasing that fantasy, the NRC Tribe members were not the only ones Rook hurt. 

Neige might have been happy to have won but he was essentially rewarded for an inferior performance and robbed of an important lesson. One far more valuable than any “lesson” Vil had to learn. As mentioned before, even with all of his hardships, if what we saw in book 5 was the best Neige could do, that still means he is not as good a performer as Vil. If cuteness, nostalgia and warm fuzzy feels are the only thing Neige can offer, he could easily find himself struggling to remain in the entertainment industry as he ages. Not unlike many other former child stars in real life. 

Losing the VDC could have been a major wake-up call to Neige that if he wants to continue acting, he has to do better. People might not take him seriously when he’s still doing the cutesy bullshit ten years from now. But because he won, this will likely never cross his mind. Neige will learn nothing. 

Now before anyone begins writing up their comments about how Vil verbally stated that Rook was right, I’d like to bring up one final point: Vil agreeing with Rook was another trauma response. Internalizing Rook’s response because it is so in keeping with all he has been made to believe about himself, about Neige, and how it has all now been “confirmed” by his overblot. From his point of view, Rook has no reason to lie to him. 

But just because Vil states that Rook was correct, does not mean that it’s true. Despite being one of the more positive characters in the game and being twisted from a “good” character, Rook is just as morally grey as everyone else in the twst cast and just as capable of dubiousness. And this would not be the first time something like this has occurred between Vil and Rook. Once again, I bring up Vil’s labwear vignette. Particularly this exchange here:

Okay, so beyond the general tactlessness of telling Vil he’s gaining weight in spite of knowing how such a statement would affect him, what Rook is basically suggesting to him is that he cannot trust anyone but him. Not even his own senses. That for all of his perceptiveness, Vil is incapable of seeing himself accurately. Though he initially does not believe it, Vil eventually does accept  Rook’s statement despite knowing it was bullshit twenty seconds before. 

Later on, Vil mentions to Trey that Rook’s only crime is being too blunt and perceptive. It’s true that having another point of view is important at times, but the level of trust Vil has in Rook’s opinion can also be dangerous if he can convince Vil to doubt himself so easily. Theirs is an interesting dynamic but it also has potential to be extremely toxic and detrimental to Vil. At best, Rook gives him useful insight and pushes him to be the best he can be. But at worst, Rook contributes to Vil’s insecurities, enables his more toxic tendencies and his fawning of Neige feeds into his obsession to be the fairest one of all in the worst way possible. Rook can’t be completely oblivious to this. It would be such an easy thing for him to take advantage of Vil’s doubt in himself and value/dependency on his opinion. 

Which is exactly what Rook does. As much flack Vil gets in this fandom for being critical and harsh to others, he never criticizes someone harder than he will criticize himself. This is a person who has grown up in the spotlight and has had to maintain an image of perfection for most of his life.  A person who gave up one of his favorite condiments because of the damage it caused to his skin. A person who has so deeply internalized the villainous image people have projected on him that he wears it almost as a badge of honor. And because he holds himself to such a high standard and already internalizes a lot of toxic beliefs about himself, it makes perfect sense that Vil would agree with Rook. In his current way of thinking, Vil has no reason to disagree with Rook because from his point of view, Rook has always been honest to him and his overblot already proved he was unworthy of victory anyway. 

Of course Vil must be gaining weight. How could he possibly be objective regarding himself? How vain he must be. And how could Vil possibly be objective regarding his VDC performance and still vote for himself after such an ugly trauma response? He can’t trust his judgment, he can’t even trust his own senses. How arrogant and pathetic Vil must be if he can still vote for himself in good conscience after witnessing the pure wholesomeness of Neige Leblanche. Someone who would never overblot. Thankfully, he has Rook to humble that arrogance and tell him what he needs to know. Even if he’s tactless about it. 

I mean, Vil literally ran looking for a scale immediately after Rook’s comments on his weight. He probably added an extra hour to his daily workout routine the morning after eating the cake Trey gave him. I don’t believe that Rook is completely oblivious of Vil’s darker feelings, just as Vil has stated, he keeps too close an eye on him not to be oblivious. And he was astute enough to keep his infatuation with Neige a secret from Vil for nearly two years. This had to have been intentional. It honestly makes me wonder what Rook thinks of Vil on a more personal level. 

But regardless, the fact is, Rook was always going to vote for Neige and his explanation at the end of Book 5 was always going to be his reasoning. Vil’s overblot just gave him a more “legitimate” reason to do so. For whatever reverence he holds for Vil, it was never going to trump his reverence for Neige. The fact he brought all of his Neige photos with him to the training camp further implies that he was never going to be objective in this situation. And seeing Vil almost poison Neige probably further convinced him that Vil was undeserving of victory. 

That may make Rook seem duplicitous considering how positive and sincere he seems to be, but he’s still human. And truthfully, him voting for his bias is not an inherently bad thing. What makes him inconsiderate in this situation is openly telling Vil he prefers the catalyst for all his insecurities and overblot, while Vil was still grieving and in a very vulnerable place. Then justifying his decision as the correct one based on his own personal preferences, weaponizing that vulnerability to avoid being called out. Knowing that Vil wasn’t likely going to object. 

Even if NRC Tribe did win, it’s very likely Rook would have still brought up his vote to Vil and still convinced him it was undeserved. I would even go so far as to argue that Rook’s remarks about Neige early on in book 5 as well as Vil’s labwear vignette foreshadow the ending of book 5/start of book 6 far more than the fact that the huntsman betrayed the evil queen in the original Snow White. 

That coupled with a perfectionist like Vil looking back at their less-than-perfect performance is what compelled him to agree with Rook. If we take into account the idea that Vil still chose to vote for his own team afterwards, Rook’s actions and words probably further pushed him into believing in the idea of his inherent villainy and inferiority to Neige. After all, surely Neige Leblanche would never be reduced to such a hideous state. His heart is too pure, the fairest one of all and as different from Vil as night and day. 

If left to his own devices without Rook to influence him, Vil might not be so hard on himself in this case and would resent his defeat more. As he has every right to. But instead, Vil agreed with what was easiest and what made most sense based on everything that has happened in his life and all that he has been made to believe about himself. Why should he continue protesting when no one else will? 

Nevermind all the evidence we’ve seen of Vil’s tenacity, excellence and kindness. Why should he believe that he is the most beautiful one of all when Mira frequently tells him the opposite? Why should he believe in his own noble spirit when people openly say it’s not enough and that he’s not relatable enough to be a hero? Why shouldn’t he believe he is hideous when the entire world says it’s so? When even a large majority of this very fucking fandom mischaracterize him as such and agree with Rook anyway? 

Why should Vil question any of this?

And Vil will sadly continue to be second to Neige and will likely never question it. He will continue to internalize the toxic dichotomy between him and Neige and again, why shouldn’t he? After all, Vil is the evil queen to Neige’s Snow White, the Sharpay to his Gabriella, the Odile to his Odette. And Neige is the Madonna to Vil’s whore. Vil is not supposed to be the hero in this story and not even his trusted vice dorm leader has faith in him.

In discourse regarding the end of book 5, I’ve often heard it said that this was a “lesson” Vil had to learn in order to become a better person. I believe there was indeed a lesson to be learned from this, but not the one that many think. Since Vil knew from the beginning that trying to poison Neige was wrong, he didn’t need to learn how to play fair like Leona. 

Despite being a harsh leader, Vil was generally always fair with his teammates and again, as a former dancer, the way Vil instructed the NRC Tribe members seemed tame compared to some of the dance teachers I’ve had in the past. So learning to be less tyrannical wasn’t the lesson to learn either, like with Riddle. And part of what led to his overblot was realizing that NRC Tribe had been “outplayed” by Neige’s cuteness. But he still had enough faith in his ability to vote for his own team, so learning not to be manipulative wasn’t really needed either, like with Azul. 

No, the lesson for Vil here is that hard work is rarely ever rewarded fairly. And that his trauma is not valid because he was blessed in a way that Neige was not. He must always take second place to him because of his blessings while simultaneously ALWAYS being perfect. And because of his blessings, he can never express ugly emotions, he can never express anguish, and he must always, ALWAYS, take his mistreatment in stride. And God forbid if Vil DOES respond to his trauma in an ugly manner, he WILL be punished for it. He will ALWAYS be punished for it and by those closest to him no less. 

If Vil doesn’t like how they’ve treated him in his darkest hour, tough titties. It’s all his fault for not hiding his trauma to begin with. And he doesn’t even have the right to a moment to himself to cry. 

But that is where my analysis ends. Honestly this was kind of painful to write because it has made me fully realize just how much I’ve grown to disdain Rook after adoring him for so long. You all have no idea how hard I was hoping he would have some scrap of redemption in book 6. It’s really upsetting that so many people in this fandom look down on Vil or mischaracterize him but somehow don’t notice the glaring red flags in his dynamic with his vice dorm leader. 

Honestly, when I think about it, the ending of Book 5 is actually kind of brilliant, even if it’s also emotionally sadistic and lacking in other aspects. I'm not sure if that was Yana’s intention, but the fact that so many in the fandom tend to see Rook as the kinder one compared to Vil is very telling. 

Now I’m not saying that Vil is absolutely without flaws, Heaven knows he has many. As does every person in the twst cast. Vil is impulsive, domineering, harsh, difficult to please, overwhelming at times and extremely complex. But he is also helpful, perceptive, intelligent, genuinely kind and wants the best for those around him. Not for his own glory but for their own happiness and well-being. He is also clearly a deeply misunderstood and insecure young man, so I guess because of Vil’s faults, it’s “easier” to mischaracterize him. 

As for me, I find Vil’s character all the more compelling in spite of his harshness because I can see in him a true understanding of beauty that is both profound and attainable by anyone. If we are brave enough to behold it.

[woodchipp]

A CRITIQUE OF OMORI, PART 4: DEPICTION OF MENTAL ILLNESS

NOTE: Reader discretion is advised. By clicking on “Keep reading”, you willingly choose to continue reading the post.

Me referring to Omori as Sunny’s “Evil Mental Illness” in the previous post was supposed to be sarcastic, but it's not even an exaggeration. The game's text actually designates him as “evil” two separate times, and one of the Stranger NPCs you can come across in Black Space's nexus central hub outright calls him "cursed". Again, considering that Omori seemingly represents Sunny's mental issues, the implications are... troubling, to say the least.

Another issue about OMORI’s approach to mental illness is its usage of mental conditions as RPG status effects (called "emotions" in this game for some reason). The “Manic” emotion in particular is notable since it depicts Omori flat-out drooling in his battle portrait. Because tackling this topic with tact includes trivializing a real disorder into a gameplay mechanic and leaning into potentially harmful stereotypes while doing so, right? 

On that note, waking Sunny up to access Faraway Town (and getting out of certain areas in Black Space) requires Omori to stab himself in the stomach, complete with the sound of the knife piercing his flesh. The game forces you to do this repeatedly - in fact, killing yourself is trivialized into a harmless gameplay mechanic that rewards you with progression. Not only is it a grossly irresponsible way of handling the topic of suicide, it nullifies whatever impact the game's bad ending is supposed to have.

Sunny himself doesn't fare much better in this aspect. Since he lacks an actual personality, his introversion comes off as less of an organic character trait and more of a flimsy excuse to have him remain silent until the end of the game for maximum emotional impact (not that it prevents him from shouting "PIZZA DELIVERY!!" in the pizza delivery minigame anyway). The game also implicltly uses his depression and trauma as an explanation why he spends the story being a bland and apathetic husk, creating an unfortunate implication that introverted, depressed or traumatized people can't express genuine emotions (or express them outwardly, for that matter). Now remember that Sunny is treated as the friend group's “baby” and is compared to Mari’s pet cat, and the implications become even more unfortunate.

Basil isn’t spared from such writing either. In a lecture about OMORI and its development process given at Drawfest, Omocat, the game's director and lead writer, notes that Basil’s “loneliness and insecurity” make him dependent on others, “sometimes dangerously so." Again, this reads as a convenient argument to shield him from any criticism regarding his morbid plan to cover up the real reason of Mari's death. "Loneliness and insecurity" aren't excuses for tampering with a dead body. Speaking of said dead body!

Despite Mari’s perfectionism being a crucial fixture of the game's plot twist, it also gets a mention for being a flaw so inconsequential to her character it might as well be an informed one. When it’s not used as a convenient justification for Sunny's aggression, it’s presented as cute and endearing instead. The negative impact her obsession with being flawless had on her, her beloved brother or any of their friends before the argument is neither brought up nor is it explored.

The aforementioned bad ending is a moment I personally consider to be emblematic of the game's sheer insensitivity re. mental illness and the topic of suicide. Choosing not to continue after the final fight will lead to Sunny jumping off the hospital's roof... and falling to his death for the rest of the ending credits while a ridiculously cheery pop song (that wasn’t even written specifically to be used in the game) plays in the background. The sheer tonal dissonance between the content of the scene itself and the peculiar music choice is too jarring to take it seriously, but that's beside the point here.

By trivializing the act of killing oneself into a vital gameplay mechanic with no tangible drawbacks, OMORI also desensitizes the player to it, and that is why the bad ending just doesn't work. Sunny's suicide has no real impact because the player had already seen and made Omori kill himself countless times by that point.

Of course, the bad ending isn't the only ending with significant problems. The game's true ending also has something for me to address.

[contemplativepancakes]

number one wiener eater

written for the @lambertbigbang, with art by the amazing @geralt-of-riviass here! Make sure to check it out :D (also a ginormous thanks to @hoomhum for betaing and helping me work out the extremely complicated logistics of bathroom stall sex). Read on ao3 here!

When Lambert loses the hot dog eating contest that he’s won for the past three years in a row, there’s nothing he would love more than to find who beat him and punch them in the face. Unfortunately, he was too busy throwing up to know who the winner was.

All he knows is that he’s kind of maybe in love with the guy who held his hair while he puked. (8k, explicit, lambden, cw: vomiting, semi public sex)

Lambert’s gonna puke. He keeps stuffing the buns in his mouth, but they’re like glue, and his jaw refuses to work. He swallows, but nothing goes down. He takes a desperate gulp of water and sputters on it. Jerking his head up to glance at the countdown clock, he silently curses as he sees he has seconds left. He shoves what he can into his already full mouth, raising his hands up as the judge shouts for them to stop.

He takes a second to glance down the long line of other competitive eaters, but a wave of nausea hits him, and he looks at the ground, determined on keeping everything down. He keeps chewing and working to swallow as the judge takes away the plate to weigh it. Another comes down the aisle casting a critical eye at their tables, making sure that not too much food went onto the ground or table instead of their mouths.

It’s blazing outside today, and sweat coats Lambert’s face. Acid burns up his throat, but he chokes it back. He’s not a lightweight.

Lambert’s won this contest the past three years in a row, and he’s pretty sure he has this one in the bag. It’s no Coney Island Hot Dog Eating Contest, and he’s no Joey Chestnut, but he’s at least good, and the prize money is decent enough. He’s had his eye on an inflatable jacuzzi—for the women, Geralt. And the men—and he’s excited to make his maybe ill-advised purchase.

He waits for them to announce the winner, bouncing his foot on the ground to give himself something to focus on besides the rising wave of whatever’s churning in his gut.

When the judges stand up on their small podium, a hush falls over the small crowd gathered. Lambert directs his attention to them, but a bright burst of nausea hits him and sends sweat dripping down his back, and he doesn’t manage to hear anything after that.

He pukes.

“Oh jeez, are you okay?” a voice comes from somewhere on his left.

“Fine,” Lambert grunts, wiping his mouth and grimacing at the burning taste left in his mouth. Definitely more pleasant as the hot dogs were going down than up.

“Are you sure? You seem shaky.”

“I’m fine,” Lambert grumbles, and finally looks up at the guy, who puts his hands up in surrender.

“Just checking.”

He starts to heave again, and he reaches for the pail thoughtfully provided for them by the contest sponsors.

“Yep, you sure seem fine!” the other man chirps.

Lambert retches one more time, and the man hands him a napkin. Lambert takes it suspiciously, wondering if this is a reporter or something. He’s not sure why someone would want to deal with this.

The man hands him a bottle of water next, and Lambert purses his lips as he twists the top off. He squints at him. “Who are you?” he finally asks.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Aiden.”

All that does is give Lambert a name, not answer his question, but he doesn’t comment further, just offers his own name in a grunt.

“Oh, I know who you are.”

“You a fan?”

“You could say that,” Aiden says with a grin, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“They didn’t tell me competitive eating gets you groupies.”

Aiden gives him a full throated laugh at that, and Lambert curses himself when he catches himself thinking that it sounds kind of nice. Those are exactly the kind of thoughts he doesn’t want to be having. Especially not for some weirdo that stopped to what, hold his hair while he puked? Who does that? If he’s not careful, he’s going to end up in an ice bath one kidney short.

Lambert wipes his mouth with the back of his hand again, surreptitiously checking his breath. It’s not peaches and cream, that’s for sure.

Lambert sets the pail down and faces Aiden, trying to flat out dislike him at how white his teeth are, how perfectly coiffed his dark curly hair is even in this heat, but he fails as Aiden continues to be nothing but nice to him, making small talk as Lambert tries to pull himself together.

After Lambert’s fully sat up instead of half way hunched over, expecting another vomiting wave to hit him, Aiden straightens up, too. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, then, huh?”

Lambert’s confused for a second, because he’s never seen Aiden before, but he decides he’s going to take this as a good sign. Or maybe a bad sign for the fate of his kidneys, whatever the case may be.

“I would hope so,” Lambert settles on, deciding that sounds like a good mix of hopeful and not at all like he’s desperate for a little human contact.

Aiden gives him a little half wave that has no right to be as adorable as it is when a grown man does it, and Lambert frowns and tamps down the feelings rising in his gut. No, he’s not going to call them butterflies. He’s not a twelve year old; he doesn’t get crushes, and he certainly doesn’t get butterflies in his stomach.

Lambert eventually manages to get up and walks away from the contest, sadly bereft of the prize money. He missed the announcement of the winner while he was busy throwing up, but he caught the disappointed looks some of the spectators were casting him, so he knows it isn’t him. He doesn’t even want to know who it was. He’ll just dwell endlessly. His stomach is still roiling as he clambers into his car, but at this point, he’s not sure why.

It’s what he ate, he’s sure.

-

Lambert slams his kitchen cupboard door shut. “I don’t want to talk about it, Geralt,” he mutters.

Geralt always wants to hash every detail of his competitions, and while normally Lambert is happy to indulge him, he just doesn’t want to talk about this one, okay?

It has everything to do with him losing and absolutely nothing to do with Aiden. Nothing at all.

“Okay, fine,” Geralt says, raising his hands and backing up. “No need to get so grouchy about it.”

Lambert scowls. “I’m not grouchy.”

“Right. Prove it.”

“Fine.” Lambert crosses his arms.

Geralt grins. “Return my library book for me? It’s due today, and there’s no way I’m making it over to that side of town today, I’m slammed.”

“Yeah? You’re so slammed you had time to come here and harass me?”

Geralt reaches forward to ruffle Lambert’s hair, and Lambert knocks his hand away. “Not harassment. Just brotherly concern. Have you seen the wikipedia page for competitive eating? And you expect me not to worry?” Geralt scoffs.

Lambert rolls his eyes. “Stop being so over protective, mom.”

“Deal. If you return my book.”

Lambert rolls his eyes, but he takes the book. He looks down at the title, then back up at Geralt, raising his eyebrows. “Really? Twilight?”

“I didn’t even think you knew how to read, Lamb,” Geralt deflects.

Lambert huffs. “I don’t know if I want to embarrass myself by returning this, but whatever. If anyone asks, it’s my sister’s book. You owe me.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one in the lead on favors.”

“I doubt it.”

Lambert makes a show of taking the book between his pinched thumb and forefinger, Geralt rolling his eyes all the while. “I know, I know. You hear vampire, and you can’t help yourself,” Lambert says.

Geralt shrugs before clapping his hands on his thighs. “All right, I better get going. I have to pick Ciri up from school.”

“And you couldn’t have gone after to the library with her?”

“She has martial arts.”

Lambert sighs. He can help Geralt out this once, he supposes.

Geralt leaves and Lambert eyes the book setting on his coffee table. He guesses he might as well go now, and he can poke around and see if there’s anything that catches his eye. He hasn’t been to the library in nearly a year, but it might be a nice change of pace.

Lambert clambers to his feet, stopping to grab his wallet and keys before walking out to his car.

He hits every red light between his apartment and the library, and his good mood has nearly evaporated by the time he gets there. That changes when he walks in the door and sees who’s sitting at the front desk. “Aiden?” he doesn’t squeak.

Aiden looks up from where he’s typing furiously at a computer, and his face breaks out into a wide grin that makes Lambert’s stomach flip. “Lambert!”

Lambert looks down at the book he’s carrying and immediately hides it behind his back. Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him. “Got a return?”

“Yes, well, I mean, no—”

Aiden stretches out a hand, and Lambert resigns himself to his fate. He gives Aiden the book. Aiden barely glances at the cover, just gives Lambert a small smile and scans the barcode.

“I’m returning that for my brother,” Lambert can’t stop himself from saying.

Aiden glances back up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Aiden nods once. “Likely story.”

Lambert splutters and then stops when he sees the shit eating grin Aiden’s giving him.

“Hey, all reading is good reading,” Aiden says. “I’m not going to rag on you.”

“It’s my brother’s,” Lambert mumbles again, but he shakes his head in defeat.

“Let me know if you need help finding anything.”

Lambert would normally rather die before asking for help, but he thinks it might be okay if it's Aiden he’s asking for it from. He wouldn’t have offered if he was busy or something, right?

The organ harvesting alarms start going off in Lambert’s brain again, but he dismisses them. Someone so nice surely isn’t going to cut anything out of him. And even if he does, Lambert would bet Aiden would give the good drugs, so he wouldn’t even feel it. He seems nice like that.

Yeah, that’d be okay.

Lambert moves farther into the library, going between the stacks where no one can see him. He’s not sure what books he should get to try and recover the remaining shreds of his dignity.

He whips out his phone and searches long classic books. He scrolls down the page a little frantically until he lands on War and Peace. He’s heard of that before. He’s pretty sure it’s a well regarded book. What if Aiden thinks he’s a pretentious dick? Okay, maybe he is, a little, but he doesn’t want to give him that impression right off the bat. Lambert’s already ruined his first, and second impression, he doesn’t want to mess up the third.

Lambert makes his way down the aisles, squinting as he looks for the Ts. He pulls out the book with a flourish after he finally finds it, weighing its impressive heft in his hand. He cracks it open and finds it to be suitably dense. He makes his way back up to the circulation desk, where Aiden’s scanning in returns from their self service slot.

Why didn’t Lambert just use that? He could slap himself. Well, he guesses he wouldn’t have seen Aiden if he did that, so at risk of sounding like a creepy stalker, he’s glad he came in.

Lambert thunks the book down on the counter. Aiden looks at it, then up to Lambert, a grin spreading across his face. “Just a bit of light reading for you then?”

Heat rises to Lambert’s cheeks, not sure if he’s being mocked or not. He shrugs. “It’s been on my list.”

Aiden holds a hand out, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Uh…”

“I need your library card,” Aiden says patiently.

“Right. Um, let’s see here.”

Lambert hasn’t been to the library since the last time he came with Ciri to pick out movies they were going to watch while she stayed with him, and he pulls out his wallet. He holds it open to thumb through it, wondering why the fuck he feels the need to carry so many gift cards around that he’s never going to use. Foil crinkles as he goes through everything, and he resolutely does not make eye contact with Aiden.

It’s no use, though. “You’re not supposed to carry those around in your wallet, you know,” he says conversationally. “Wears holes in them.”

There’s a quip on Lambert’s tongue about using them often enough that he doesn’t have to worry about that, but he bites it back. He’s not a creep who would say that at someone’s job.

After another painful ten seconds, Lambert gives up on finding the card. He thinks he remembers them giving him a miniature one for it, too, so he looks on his key chain instead, filled as it is with at least twenty different discount cards and various baubles Ciri’s made for him.

“I can tell you’re a fine connoisseur of our goods,” Aiden comments.

“Shut up,” Lambert grouses, finally finding the little card and setting the whole thing down for Aiden.

Aiden scans it, keys and cards jingling against each other, and frowns. “It’s expired,” he says apologetically.

Lambert wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole, especially as Aiden fingers the rooster on it that Eskel gave him after he came out. He should get around to cleaning off his keyring.

“I guess I know you really were returning that book for your brother?” Aiden offers.

Despite himself, Lambert smiles. “I guess you do.” Lambert swallows. “So what do I have to do to renew it? I think I might have to start coming here more often.”

Aiden gives him a tiny grin, and they get the card renewed, then the book checked out. “I’ll be expecting a report on how it was when you return it,” Aiden says of War and Peace, tucking the receipt into the book.

Lambert’s not sure if he had been entirely convinced he was actually going to read it, but he finds himself saying, “You bet.”

Aiden flashes him a smile that Lambert would best describe as feral, and as he walks out to his car, Lambert wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

-

Later that night finds Geralt back on Lambert’s couch. “I thought you were so busy,” Lambert complains.

“Well, Ciri’s at her martial arts class now and your apartment was close. What do you have to eat?”

Lambert rolls his eyes and resists the urge to shove Geralt’s feet off his coffee table. “Nothing for you.”

Geralt gets up to survey the refrigerator.

“If you put a finger on my burrito, I’ll end you,” Lambert threatens.

Lambert can practically hear Geralt rolling his eyes as he heaves a heavy sigh. “Do not drink out of the jug either.”

Geralt groans again. “Like you don’t?”

“Well, I’m the one who buys it. All you do is come over and eat my food like you don’t have any of your own.”

Geralt comes back to the couch after some muttering and putting something in the microwave. Lambert resists the urge to strangle him. When Geralt comes back, it’s with chinese takeout that’s been in the refrigerator for at least two weeks. Lambert doesn’t say anything.

He watches with a raised eyebrow as Geralt slurps down the noodles, mildly impressed at his stomach of steel. He’s always thought Geralt would be a good competitive eater.

When Geralt finally puts the chop sticks down and comes back up for air, he brightens and reaches into his pocket. “Here, I saved this for you.”

Geralt hands a folded up newspaper clipping to him, and Lambert scowls upon seeing the picture of the hot dog eating contest sign. He crumples it up and tosses it at Geralt’s head.

Geralt’s hand automatically comes up and bats it away, making it fall to the floor. “Jeez, I try to do one nice thing…”

“Don’t act like being nice was your motivation.”

Geralt gives him a cheshire cat grin. “You’re too easy to rile up, you know that?”

“Yeah, thanks a lot for that, shit lips. By the way, you’re welcome for taking back your book. I nearly got laughed out of the library.”

Geralt smirks at him. Fortunately for Geralt, there’s nothing for Lambert to throw at him again within arms reach.

“I see you even got a book. That’s some heavy reading,” Geralt says, a look of mock seriousness pasted on his face.

“Shut up.”

“That’d take you at least three years to read.”

“Shut up,” Lambert says again, putting his hands over his ears.

“Almost seems like you got that just to impress someone; I’ve never known you to have an interest in the classics before.”

Lambert looks at the book sitting on the coffee table and considers just braining Geralt with it. Surely a jury would be understanding that sometimes you just have to hit your stupid as fuck brother upside the head with a three pound book.

Not guilty, for sure.

Lambert snaps out of his daydream to look pointedly at the clock. “Exactly how long is Ciri’s class?”

Geralt checks his watch. “Shit, I gotta go.”

Lambert grouses as Geralt puts on his jacket and leaves his bowl on the table for Lambert. ��I’m not a maid!” he shouts after Geralt’s retreating back.

Geralt flips him off and then blows him a kiss, leaving Lambert to wonder if he’s just broken a record for the world’s longest eye roll.

Lambert looks back to the book. He guesses he has nothing better to do…

-

Lambert makes it through the book much more quickly than he anticipated; once he gets past the dry as fuck language, it’s actually kind of interesting.

He’s excited but also dreading going back to the library. This time he should probably be better prepared when he goes in, so he doesn’t have to frantically flick through his phone hidden in the middle of the stacks trying to find something to check out that’s not going to make him look like an idiot.

He searches for something interesting sounding, but maybe something that’s not going to make Aiden laugh at him this time. Well, maybe he can make him laugh in a good way instead of making fun of him, Lambert muses as he scrolls through book titles.

And so, the next time when he goes to the library, he surprises a laugh out of Aiden when he slams A Treatise of Cocks and Hens onto the counter to check out.

“You into animal husbandry now?” Aiden snickers.

“I’ve been considering some laying hens,” Lambert says in mock seriousness. “Why, you got any advice?”

“Ah. Eggs, nature’s perfect food,” he says sagely. “I am sure that is the only reason why you’ve chosen this particular book.”

“Yep.”

Aiden grins. “Huh. Very interesting. Well, I’ll be expecting a report back. By the way, how was War and Peace?”

“Surprisingly not terrible.”

Aiden drums his fingers on the counter, scrutinizing him. “Huh.”

“What do you mean, ‘huh?’”

“A man can’t say ‘huh’ without being ruthlessly interrogated now? What is this country coming to?”

Lambert shakes his head at the dramatics and finally remembers to hand over his library card. Aiden scans it, then his book, a small smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. The receipt prints, and Lambert holds out his hand for it, but Aiden takes it and scribbles something down before tucking it in the book.

“Just...personalized service for our valued members,” he says with a wink.

“I’m not paying for anything; I don’t think you need to try that hard.”

“Are you complaining?”

Lambert shakes his head hastily. “Definitely not.”

Aiden slides the book across the counter to him. “Come back soon,” he says with a cheeky wave.

Lambert barely resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him, and where did that come from, but he manages to make it out of the library without making a total ass of himself. When he gets out to his car, he slides behind the wheel and takes the receipt out of the bag.

On it is a number, one Lambert hopes like fuck is Aiden’s and not just some cruel joke, and the words, Text me what you learned from this book. I want to learn all about it (;

Lambert traces his fingers over the word cock on the cover.

He can’t believe that actually worked.

-

When he tells Geralt the news, Geralt howls with laughter.

Predictably, Geralt is eating his food again, and is being absolutely no help in assisting Lambert with choosing the clothes he should wear on his date. He had somehow worked up the nerve to text Aiden, and after a week of sending waffling texts back and forth, they’re going to a bar together. Shit, Lambert hasn’t been on a date in forever.

“Calm down,” Geralt says around a mouthful of pasta from Lambert’s bed, watching his eyes dart back and forth around his closet. “Wear a button down,” he advises. “That’s respectable.”

“Not like I’m trying too hard?”

Geralt hums. “Maybe.”

Lambert scowls at him. “Why are you even here if you’re not going to help?”

Geralt points a fork to his bowl. “Dude, you made bolognese. Where else am I going to be?”

“Don’t you have a kid or something you need to watch?” Lambert asks, but it’s without heat.

“She’s with Yen tonight. I wanted a front row seat to this shit show, and they’re going to an opera or something. I don’t ask questions.”

“Wow, thank you for your enthusiastic support.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you care this much before,” Geralt observes.

“Yeah, well, he’s nice. I’ve never dated someone who’s nice before.”

“I can only hope he rubs off on you.”

Lambert nods. “We can only hope.”

Geralt throws a pillow at him. “Don’t be a pervert.”

“Hey! You’re the one who said it, not me.”

Geralt sets the bowl down, balancing precariously on Lambert’s bed and claps his hands over his ears. “I do not want to think about you doing any of that. You’re going to be 12 to me forever.”

“Geralt, you are six years older than me.”

“And?”

Lambert shakes his head as he pulls out a polo before discarding it.

Why the hell does he even have that? He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a fucking polo.

In the end, Lambert settles on nothing too out of the norm from his typical style. He doesn’t want Aiden to get the wrong idea, and he’s sure Aiden won’t hesitate in making fun of him if he tries too hard. He wets his comb and runs it through his hair, but it’s really too short to stick up in odd angles, which is exactly the way he likes it.

He shoos Geralt out of his apartment as he leaves. “I can’t leave you unsupervised to poke through my things,” he says, and Geralt doesn’t even argue with him about it, which is highly concerning because that means it’s true.

Lambert’s heart is jackrabbiting against his chest as he walks out to his car. He gives Geralt a gruff goodbye before ducking into his car, plugging his phone into the radio and cranking the volume up. He tries to focus on the lyrics instead of the pounding in his chest that he can feel pulsating in his wrists. He scrolls through his songs until he finds something by Minor Threat so he can turn it up and drown out the rest of his thoughts.

He’s meeting Aiden at the bar, because Geralt told him it was weird to pick someone up on the first date, and that Aiden was an Independent Man, whatever that meant. He probably shouldn’t listen to Geralt.

He beats his fingers in rapid bursts on his steering wheel in time with the music until he gets there, and then he checks his phone to see it’s way too early to go in yet. God, he’s messing this up already. He scrolls through his social media feeds while he waits until his phone buzzes with an incoming picture. He clicks over to it, to see—himself, hunched over behind the steering wheel of his car. It’s taken through a window, and it’s sort of definitely mega creepy.

Aiden: you coming in, or do you just plan on sitting out there all night?

Lambert checks the time again and verifies that no, he’s still 20 minutes early. A small smile crawls across his face.

He gets out and walks into the bar, looking around. Aiden waves to him, and he’s sitting at a booth, not even at the bar.

“Wow. Classy.” Lambert comments as he slides in next to him.

Shit, should he have sat across from him? Aiden apparently doesn’t mind by the way he immediately presses against Lambert.

“Can’t believe I got you out of your academic setting,” Aiden smirks. “How goes the chicken husbandry?”

“I’m considering building a coop,” Lambert says on reflex.

“I can’t even tell if you’re joking.”

Lambert grins. “Only mostly. Don’t you think that would be cute, or whatever?”

“What, you in a frilly apron collecting eggs? Yeah, I could get behind that.”

Lambert’s face gets hot almost instantly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I think it should be.” Aiden quirks an eyebrow at him in challenge, one which Lambert immediately cops out of.

“What do you want to drink?”

Lambert stands up with Aiden’s order and goes to the bar to get it, wondering what Geralt’s opinion on how the bill should be split is.

When he comes back, Aiden’s checking his phone, but he quickly sets it down when Lambert slips in beside him again.

“Just letting my friend know I’m not dead,” he says brightly. “I sent her the picture of you, and that’s already shady enough to be perfect for America’s Most Wanted, so I’d keep that in mind.”

Lambert snorts. “Noted,” he says, passing over the beer.

Aiden takes a gulp, and Lambert’s gaze doesn’t linger on how Aiden’s lips wrap around the bottle, not one bit.

Aiden sets the bottle down on the table with a clunk, liquid making its way dangerously close to the top, but none splashes out.

“So tell me about yourself, besides the fact that you eat too many hot dogs, read long books in the hopes of impressing librarians, and are blue printing a chicken coop.”

Lambert drums his fingers on the table and shrugs. “I’m not that interesting. And who said I was trying to impress you?”

Aiden shrugs and takes another drink of his beer, setting it back down and swiping a finger through the condensation. “Aren’t you?”

Lambert stands up abruptly. “Come on, pool table’s empty.”

“I think you’re going to have to show me how to handle my stick.”

Lambert groans and shoves at him. “That was so bad. That was terrible. I’m not rewarding you for that.”

Aiden grins at him, and they play pool, with Aiden exaggerating his cue handling the entire time. If Lambert has to watch him run his hands down its length one more time…

“What exactly are you angling for, here, hmm?” Lambert asks, sidling up next to him and nudging him out of the way so he can take aim for the cue ball.

Aiden shrugs. “Whatever you’re willing to give me.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the wall. “I’m easy.”

Lambert squeezes his eyes shut for a second at the mental image that provides before gulping. “I, uh, haven’t really been with anyone in a while. Might be a little rusty.”

Aiden crowds behind him and wraps his arms around Lambert’s waist. “Just like riding a bike,” he says into his ear.

Lambert leans down and hits the cue ball, knocking the black eight into the middle pocket. “Well, shit.” They both know he did it on purpose.

Aiden takes Lambert’s hand for a second, and Lambert has to make a conscious effort not to short circuit. “Meet me in the bathroom,” he murmurs before turning away, leaving Lambert to fidget uncomfortably. He knocks all the balls into the pockets and hangs up their cues, dithering a little to try not to make this too obvious. Jesus, he feels like he’s 22 again, only this time he’s doing it with someone he actually likes and not just to get a reaction out of his dad when he found out.

Lambert sets his hands on the pool table and takes a deep breath before heading to the bathroom. He walks in, noting that no, this isn’t a single stall, and anyone could walk on them. His heart beats a little faster.

Aiden’s at the sink washing his hands, and Lambert walks up behind him, mouthing at his neck and wrapping his arms around him.

“Took you long enough,” Aiden says, leaning back into him. “Come on.” Aiden tugs him into a stall and slides the lock shut behind them.

It’s a tight squeeze, two grown men in one tiny stall, and to be honest, it’s a little disgusting. Lambert leans past Aiden to close the toilet seat so he doesn’t have to look at the piss stains.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does that offend your delicate sensibilities?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

Aiden’s grin drops for a second. “You want to do this, right?”

Lambert tugs Aiden against him sharply and kisses him hard before pulling back. “Oh, yeah. Enthusiastically. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Lambert yanks Aiden’s shirt out of his pants, putting his hands on Aiden’s torso, enjoying the soft flesh and moving his way up until he can brush his thumb over Aiden’s nipple. Aiden leans back in to kiss him again, shoving his hands down Lambert’s pants where he’s growing steadily harder.

Aiden strokes him inside his underwear, and Lambert forgot how fucking good this feels. He still has one ear on the door, waiting for someone else to come inside the restroom. He’s not sure what they’re going to do if that happens, so he supposes he better move this along.

Lambert leans his head back against the stall door as Aiden jerks him to full hardness, their kiss turning into something uncoordinated and sloppy.

“Feel good?” Aiden murmurs.

“Fuck, yeah,” Lambert says, and his eyes get wide as Aiden drops to his knees.

Aiden pulls him out of his pants, finally unbuttoning them and relieving some of the pressure. Lambert winces as he looks down at the mystery stains on the floor, but Aiden’s unaffected. Lambert bites down on his lip as he looks down at Aiden, leaning forward to take him into his mouth.

“Wait,” he says, and his voice sounds far away. He fumbles for his wallet, thumbing through it to find the condom from the other day.

Aiden laughs and quirks an eyebrow at him.

“It���s a new one,” Lambert says defensively.

Aiden takes it from and tears it open, rolling it down Lambert’s length. “Good?” he asks, and Lambert eagerly nods.

Warm heat envelopes him, and he instinctively threads a hand through Aiden’s hair. Aiden seems to like that, and he starts doing something to the sensitive spot just under Lambert’s head that has him panting after a minute.

The door to the bathroom creaks open then, and Lambert tugs on Aiden’s hair urgently, but Aiden doesn’t let up, if anything, just increases whatever he’s doing down there until Lambert can barely see straight, let alone keep his noises to himself.

There’s the sound of someone unzipping themselves, and Lambert looks down at Aiden incredulously. Does this person really not notice them? Judging by the intensity of the stream they let out, Lambert’s guessing not.

Aiden brings his hand up to stroke the part of Lambert’s cock not in his mouth and keeps up the steady rhythm of his mouth. It feels incredible, tight wet heat around his cock, and Lambert’s concerned his lip is going to bleed if he keeps biting it this hard. A whine starts emanating from him as Aiden increases his speed.

The urinal finally flushes, and Aiden determinedly licks at the underside of Lambert’s cock, making him gasp. Lambert gives a little yank on his hair; he knows Aiden did that on purpose. Aiden looks up at him as innocently as he can with a mouth full of cock.

It’s obscene.

The person doesn’t even wash their hands before they leave, but Lambert can’t find it in him to bemoan their lack of hygiene, he’s just glad for some semblance of privacy again as he lets out a broken moan.

Aiden keeps it up, bobbing back and forth and twisting his hands around Lambert’s cock until he gasps, coming as his legs nearly give out from underneath him. “Fuck,” he says vehemently, panting as he tries to catch his beath. “Mild mannered librarian by day... But you’re sure something else at night, huh?” Lambert tugs a hand through Aiden’s coarse curls, delighting in the way they’re so pullable and soft.

Aiden hums and pulls off, Lambert’s eyes catching on the trail of saliva that follows Aiden’s lips, still connected to Lambert’s cock. “I don’t know about mild mannered.”

Aiden pulls off the condom and knots it, tucking it back into its original foil and putting it on top of the toilet paper dispenser before Lambert fists a hand in the collar of Aiden’s shirt and pulls him to his feet, kissing him messily and reveling in the taste of Aiden’s mouth. He reaches down between them, surprised to find Aiden still fully hard. He maneuvers Aiden around until his back is to the stall door instead of Lambert. Lambert squeezes him before getting to his knees himself, clumsy and unpracticed.

It’s been too long.

Lambert’s knees hit the hard floor, the cold tiles leaching warmth from his legs, even through his jeans. He finds himself not even caring about the ever present ammonia stench and the piss stains everywhere he looks. He unbuttons Aiden’s pants and unzips them, trying not to roll his eyes at the fact that he wore slacks to a bar. How difficult does he think Lambert is to impress, exactly, because Lambert would be the first to tell you it’s not that hard.

Speaking of things that are hard...Lambert jerks his fist along Aiden’s cock a few times, before pulling out another condom and putting it on him, moving forward to take the head into his mouth.

“Jesus, how many of those do you carry around?” Aiden asks, a little breathless.

Lambert pulls off for a moment. “I used to be a boy scout.”

“Liar,” Aiden hisses, but then his head is thudding back against the stall door as Lambert does a particularly clever twist of his fist. He keeps it moving along Aiden’s cock as he gets the head sloppy with spit, paying special attention to the sensitive spot on the underside.

Aiden twitches under his ministrations, and Lambert looks up at him, satisfied as he sees Aiden’s head is still leaned back against the stall door, his eyes squeezed shut.

Lambert hums as he takes more into his mouth, bobbing his head back and forth as he moves his hand farther back to play with Aiden’s balls. He rolls them gently in his hands, running his thumb over the soft skin.

When he looks back up at Aiden, he’s staring at Lambert with undisguised want and he’s visibly restraining himself from being louder. Lambert’s just glad that no one else has come into the bathroom. There’s no question about what’s happening here, not with the slick sounds they’re making.

Lambert starts to suck on Aiden’s cock, then, and a quiet swear comes out of Aiden and his hands fly down, scrambling for purchase in Lambert’s hair, but it’s too short for him to do anything but comb at it uselessly. He ends up with one of his hands on the back of Lambert’s head, just resting there, his fingertips coming down occasionally to brush at Lambert’s neck.

Part of Lambert rebels at the tenderness, but another part of him revels in it, and he keeps the steady motion up until Aiden’s hips are starting to jerk minutely.

Lambert presses a hand against him, holding his hips in place against the stall while he tongues the vein on the underside of Aiden’s cock. He comes after what seems like both a small eternity and no time at all, a moan punching out of him.

Aiden brushes his thumb over the corner of Lambert’s mouth and brings it back up to suck it into his own, Lambert tracking the movement with the corner of his eye. Lambert buttons up his pants and attempts to straighten his shirt, but it might be a lost cause with how many wrinkles are in it from how Aiden had rucked it up. Lambert pulls the condom off and wraps it in toilet paper, setting it on top of the one from earlier.

Lambert cracks the stall door open to throw the condoms into the trash, wincing when he misses.

“That was literally three feet away, dude.”

Lambert scowls at him as he gingerly picks it up and places it in the bin. “Don’t call me dude after I just sucked your cock.”

Lambert shuts the stall door again, waiting for Aiden to be a little bit more presentable.

Aiden tugs his shirt down and smoothes his hand over it, and Lambert tucks him back into his pants and buttons up his pants for him. “Thanks, babe,” he says with a shit eating grin.

Aiden pats Lambert’s hand fondly, and it gives Lambert a warm feeling even as he rolls his eyes. Lambert unlocks the door, and they stumble out together. Aiden leans against him, still very much in Lambert’s personal space and with his hair a mess. “So. You want to do this again sometime?”

All Lambert can do is nod.

-

“Sometime” happens quite frequently over the next several months. After...years of not being in a relationship, and certainly not having regular sex, Lambert’s not complaing.

He brings Aiden lunch at the library occasionally, since he has to work weekends, and Aiden ends up at Lambert’s cooking meals for him more than once in a while. Geralt appreciates the variety, at any rate.

When Geralt met Aiden for the first time, Geralt did a double take, and Lambert still doesn’t know what that’s about, and he doesn’t think he wants to know, either. If Geralt has ever slept with Aiden, he...doesn’t know what he’ll do. Scream, at the very least.

They’re at Aiden’s tonight, and Lambert’s digging through his refrigerator. “Why the fuck do you have all this lettuce? You’d think you were the professional eater,” he gripes as he shoves no less than six heads of the lettuce out of the way to get to the milk.

Aiden snorts behind him. “You’d think, huh?”

Lambert’s distracted from the discovery by Aiden’s arms wrapping around his waist. Lambert turns around in the hold to put his arms around Aiden’s neck and tug him even closer. Aiden grinds his hips against him, but Lambert pushes him back a little. “We haven’t even eaten supper yet,” he chides.

Aiden sighs, a long, put upon thing. “I’m going to die of blue balls.”

“I think you’ll be just fine.”

“What’s next? You say you have a headache?” Aiden puts a hand over his forehead dramatically.

“No, I’ll just tell you to fuck off if I’m not interested. Don’t worry.”

Aiden leans in to bite at Lambert’s ear lobe, and Lambert shoves his face away. “Fuck off.”

“Aw, Lamb,” Aiden wheedles.

“Food, then sex. God, you’re insatiable.”

“Thank you.” Aiden looks entirely too pleased with himself, and Lambert rolls his eyes.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t, you love me,” Aiden says in a sing song voice.

Lambert groans, burying his face in his hands. “I never should have told you that.”

Aiden sobers for a moment. “I’m so glad you did. I love you, too.”

“Stop being such a sap and help me make supper.”

Aiden rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it; you’re allergic to feelings. I see how it is. You tell a man something once after the best blow job of your life and then just expect him to forget about it.”

“It was really nice,” Lambert admits.

“That would be because I am the number one wiener eater,” he says proudly.

Lambert shoves him. “Don’t be disgusting.”

Aiden just grins at him unabashedly, pulling the chef’s knife out of their drawer and brandishing it a little too familiarly for Lambert’s comfort. Lambert rolls his eyes. “Here, chop these for me.”

Aiden sets to work and within an hour, they have a comforting meal pulled together. Lambert portions the pasta out onto plates, and they make quick work of it, both of them having tiny portions. Lambert is mainly on semi solids and liquids in preparation for his next contest, and Aiden, he guesses, is being supportive. When they’re done, Aiden looks at his watch and stands up, yawning. “I’m going to have to take a rain check, if you’ll survive.”

Lambert rolls his eyes at him. “I think I’ll live. It was your idea, anyway.”

Aiden makes a face at him, but pulls him into a kiss anyway. “I have a few last minute prep things to do for tomorrow.”

“Like what? Do you need help?” Lambert asks, frowning, wondering if Aiden is making a celebratory cake for him, or something. That might be jumping the gun a bit.

“Hey, I can’t give away all of my secrets, can I?”

“I suppose not,” Lambert says, squinting at him.

“All right, well, I’ll see you then. We can ride together, okay?”

Lambert nods his assent as Aiden practically shoos him out the door. It’s still light outside, and this is possibly the first time he’s left Aiden’s apartment while the evening light has shined on him the whole time he’s known Aiden. He squints into the sun as he clambers into his car.

Well, whatever. He has stuff he should be doing, anyway. Eyes on the prize, he coaches himself as he pops in a few sticks of gum. He’s got this. He’s so, totally got this, and nothing is going to distract him from winning.

-

The next day finds Lambert frowning at his phone, as Aiden tells him something, speaking way too quickly. “Sorry, I know I said I would ride with you but Gunther is out sick and I’m going to have to work up until, like, the very last minute before the contest…”

“Well, you don’t have to come,” Lambert says, concerned that maybe expecting Aiden to attend is asking too much, especially when his work is short staffed.

Aiden just laughs. “I bet you’d just love that, huh?”

Lambert is a little puzzled on why Aiden would say that, and he’s trying to think of a reply when someone shouts something in the background of the call. “Hey, I have to go. Love you, bye!”

There’s the beep of a disconnected call, and Lambert brings the phone down from his ear to stare at it. That was… a little bizarre. Well, whatever. He can’t have anything distracting him now. There’s no way he’s going to lose two contests in a row, not after he had to wait months for the next one to come around.

Lambert drives to the contest, pointedly not noting how empty his passenger seat is without Aiden in it. He looks forward to spending time with him, so to have it cancelled always leaves him feeling melancholy.

He clenches his jaw and turns up the radio, his fingers tapping a frantic rhythm on the wheel.

By the time he arrives, anxiety is coiling in his gut and he’s already sweating. He sits in his car for a moment, blasting the air conditioning. If he loses again, is he officially a has been? He takes a deep breath as he gets out, walking up to the judges and turning in his paperwork.

He turns to look for Aiden in the crowd, but he doesn’t see him, so he must not be here yet. Lambert sighs as he searches the table lined with hot dogs for an empty seat, stopping when he sees—Aiden?

Lambert stares at Aiden with a slack jaw. “You’re—you—competing? What?”

“Lamb, what are you talking about? Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Aiden pushes his chair back and hurries over to him, bringing a hand up to put on Lambert’s forehead, but Lambert swats him away.

“When did you sign up?” Lambert finally gets out.

Aiden squints. “Right after the last one? For real, are you alright?”

“The last one?” Lambert echoes.

“Yes. The last one. The one that I won?”

Lambert’s mouth flaps.

“That you won?” he practically screeches. He’s feeling a little dizzy.

“Did you get hit on the head?” Aiden asks, looking around nervously like he’s trying to find someone to ask for help. “Who do you think won that last contest, Lamb?”

Lambert sputters. “I don’t know; I was a little preoccupied!”

“Did you not look it up after? Oh my god, I thought you knew,” Aiden says in horror.

Lambert wants to cry, honestly. “It was you?”

“I felt bad when you were throwing up! You were puking and you didn’t even win! Sue me for being nice!”

Realization dawns on Lambert that this is why Geralt could barely contain his laughter after meeting Aiden. He did try to give him that newspaper clipping, after all. Surely it had a picture of the winner in it.

“Why did you think I was even there in the first place?” Aiden finally asks.

Lambert lets that settle over him for a moment. He still feels a little sick, but inexplicably he feels better, now that Aiden is in this with him. He pauses for a second of it. Now that he’s aware Aiden is in this with him. “Well, no one is allowed to beat me but you.”

“Deal. Hey, what did I tell you?”

Lambert groans. Aiden tells him lots of things, and his brain is not exactly cooperating with him at the moment. “I don’t know.”

Aiden nudges him with his elbow and gives him a meaningful raise of his eyebrow. “No, I think you do. Go on, don’t be afraid to admit it.”

What it must be pops into his head, and Lambert heaves a long suffering sigh, and he hopes it's one he’s going to be continuing to give for quite a while. “You’re the number one wiener eater.”

Aiden beams.

[kevin--of-desert-bluffs]

WTNV Quick Rundown - 11 - Wheat & What By Products

A classic episode on the way, full of tasty references (just so long as they don't contain Wheat or Wheat By Products). Hey, I don't have to keep explaining that this is a bulletpoint list of lore, facts and interesting quotes from the podcast and live shows for new fans and old to keep the juicy bits faster, right?

Or that you can click here to see the others or use the tags on my blog!

Today’s air quality is mauve and speckled. Welcome to Night Vale.

At first NV is encouraged to eat wheat and wheat by-products to support local farmers and commodity conglomerates. However, these products then turn into terrifying 3ft long deadly snakes, which greatly concerns the towns scientists. Later, the snakes become 'particularly evil and destructive form of spirit'. They are capable of physically moving objects up to 200 pounds and entering human souls of up to soulstrength 4.

NV is declared to be in a state of emergency. Anyone who has come into contact with them is considered infected and 'advised' to go to the quarantine area behind the playground in Mission Grove Park. Everyone else should go to the wheat and wheat by-product shelter which has been sitting unused for decades under the public library. Why was it already there? 'Prophecy'.

The scientists recommend creating a simple lean-to out of animal bones and mud and hiding there until the spiritual forces of wheat and wheat by-products have passed. Eventually the wheat and wheat by-products leave, and are made illegal for the future, to stop such a thing from happening again.

Representatives from the greater medical insurance community announced this week that major insurance providers would no longer cover government-disseminated illnesses. These ailments were created to control undesirable populations and include AIDS, most cancers, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, telekinesis, tingling, and any kind of food allergy. Doctors advise that the best way to avoid acquiring any of these conditions is to limit questionable public activities. Try not to be in a lower economic class, and give regularly to an approved religious organization. Take these precautions and you should live a healthy (or at least medically insured) life. - there's just so much here right you just have to see it all.

The Apache Tracker has returned, except his features now look Native American instead of white. However, he only speaks Russian and Cecil couldn't be bothered to translate his statement. He has taken to leaning on the hood of an old Honda Accord out near the DFBAAFC, shaking his head slowly and checking his watch.

Does his complete racial transformation make his previous actions less offensive, listeners? Write us a letter telling us what YOU think, and then put it away in a drawer for ten years. Reading it again, you’ll get a little pang of nostalgia for the person you used to be, once upon a time.

The City Council issued a warning against the manufacture and sale of discount Bloodstones. These Bloodstones are of inferior design/construction and have the potential to cause major accidents in even common, day-to-day chanting rituals. Such as, locust swarms, pus tornados, and the creation and subsequent obliteration of a mirror version of Night Vale (foreshadowing?) Anyone selling these Bloodstones will be put into the Dark Box pending erasure from recorded history. The lesser charge of buying or possessing them will be met with mere summary execution.

'Critics charge that the City Council is lying about all of this, due to the fact that the council owns the only certified Bloodstone factory in town, but the Council has vehemently denied this charge, by gibbering, howling, and knocking over microphones.'

Cecil experiences some technical difficulties (need for air, eye movement, gooey stuff inside).

Property taxes are going up again in NV. These are to pay for the usual things as well as NV's multi-billion-dollar pulsar development facility. Apparently they're close to creating a human-made neutron star. Cecil is pretty excited about this.

John Peters (you know, the farmer?) isn't happy about either though because he owns 150 acres so would have to pay a very large share. He's a peach farmer in a desert so has never raised a successful crop. He does however sell imaginary corn, which is apparently very popular and enjoyable and the only reason he's surviving.

The only citizen above paying taxes is Marcus Vanston (the richest man in town). 'When you're worth as much as Marcus Vanston, you have proved your value to society through hard work and determination and are no longer required to show anyone any further proof that you care about anything or anybody else, because you obviously do. Look at all your money. According to some, Marcus is worth over 5 billion dollars. And that’s 5 billion reasons Marcus is our town's greatest citizen.'

NV has an annual SorrowSong Sing Along. Citizens can send in their own SorrowSongs (Low Moans and Minor Key chants don't count though). The best composer, as indicated by the Weep-a-meter, will be ritualistically drowned in a pool of the townpeople's tears.

'Listeners, the City Council, for national security reasons, has replaced the following report with the sound of a burbling brook, followed by the sound of a running blender. [The sounds happen]'

The City Comptroller (Waynetta Barnett) was sent a $1.5 billion check to be used on recovering from an apparent 9.7 scale earthquake NV had, but did not feel or receive damage from. She theorises that the FEMA just saw the meter reading, declared NV a disaster area and sent a check. Since they 'probably have no interest in visiting' she plans to spend the money however, possibly on a new Mini Cooper Sedan.

'We asked Carlos about our inability to experience tectonic shifts. Carlos, lovely Carlos, had previously recorded other massive tremor activity underneath our city. His response was a few seconds of stammering, followed by a sigh and slow head shake. His eyes were distant, distracted, yet beautiful. I asked him where he got his shirt. It fit him so well. He said he would look at his notes and computer models and see if he could figure out what was going on. I don't know if he listens to me sometimes.' - Cecil will probably understand later that Carlos is Autistic and thus is a bit wrapped up in his SpIn (science).

Old Woman Josie reports that the angels have gathered in a circle in her living room and are chanting "The Bowling Alley." over and over.

Weather: "Cigarette Burns Forever" by Adam Green

'Many of you are huddled now (and forever) in the quarantine behind the playground in Mission Grove Park. For this community-minded sacrifice, we thank you. I know you were forced there by martial law, but still, you should be commended for your brave action. Terminal quarantine might seem scary now, but I understand they have a well stocked supply of canned lentils and the Silver Screen edition of Trivial Pursuit. And of course, you have the radio. I hope you will let my dulcet voice and our humble community station into your ears and hearts until your final wheat-loving breath.'

The next programme is a live broadcast of a man locked in a recording booth, silently staring at the microphone with intense suspicion.

And, as always, since always, and for always: Good night, Night Vale. Good night.

[shihalyfie]

Daisuke and Tagiru

Ever since Tagiru’s concept was announced, people have been comparing him to Daisuke, and, honestly, it’s hard not to -- in fact, considering that Xros Wars did certainly have some degree of trying to invoke stuff from older series, it’s very likely this is intentional! You have someone introduced as a junior to a prior protagonist, who wears goggles like him (and eventually inherits the senior’s pair), wears blue, has a blue dragon-like partner, is more hot-headed than said senior...

...and that is about where the similarities stop!

Still, I think such prominent base profile details practically beg one to make a comparison, so let’s dig in!

(Translations linked below are PositronCannon’s for 02, The Wild Bunch for Hunters, and L Subs for a Kizuna screenshot, unless otherwise stated.)

The junior-senior relationship

Both Daisuke and Tagiru look up to their seniors, and that’s probably the most well-known part about both of them, but I think the first major difference between the two is how they approach that admiration towards said seniors.

While Daisuke’s way of approaching Taichi can generally be observed through his tone and actions overall, the most clear representation is in 02 episode 8, where you get to see their relationship as soccer team junior and senior. The most consistent thing about this is that Daisuke is completely and utterly deferential to Taichi.

What does this mean? It means that, even when Daisuke is jokingly bragging about his skills, it only takes one criticism from Taichi to entirely shut him down. The degree to which Daisuke respects Taichi’s opinion and holds him in regard is in such high esteem that he completely defers to his judgment. He really, really thinks Taichi is that much cooler of an experienced person whose judgment takes priority over his own. Even in episode 39, when he makes his first major disagreement against Taichi -- that he wants to go help Ken in Tamachi instead of accompanying the others -- the way he phrases it is firm, but politely and respectfully, to the point it almost comes off like he’s asking for permission to go.

Tagiru, on the other hand...

...well, his first appearance in the series involves disregarding Taiki’s advice. And when it comes to his approach to Taiki...

...his goal is to outdo Taiki. He understands that Taiki is amazing, but he’s fixated on beating and surpassing him, seeing Taiki’s amazingness as more of a goal to reach.

In contrast, Daisuke’s approach to Taichi is completely on the other extreme.  While no part of 02-related canonical material ever explicitly covers whether Daisuke thinks he’d ever be able to be as good as Taichi, the implication is that Daisuke thinks Taichi is so amazing that the idea of surpassing him doesn’t even occur to him, or that he may not even think it’s possible at all. See Spring 2003:

All right! I’m finally a regular! A center-forward. Haah, I’m getting all pumped up! I’ll show ’em all my power! But… Taichi-san was already a regular in his fifth year. I heard he was big. Ahh, he was awesome!!

The one time he’s known to explicitly compare Taichi to himself...he just gushes about how Taichi was a regular earlier than he was. And then gushes about Taichi in general. So in other words, he treats the fact that he’s not as “good” as Taichi as...just a fact of life, because Taichi being that amazing is a fact of life to him.

Even all the way in 2010, Daisuke’s default reaction to Taichi is to gush about how amazing he is. He doesn’t even think of himself in the equation.

The goggles

Both of them are also known for having wearing goggles specifically because their seniors do, but the circumstances behind them are somewhat different.

Tagiru’s reasons for imitating Taiki are explicitly laid out in Hunters episode 1:

Tagiru basically sees Taiki as a “role model” -- he thinks Taiki is the model of the “superstar” level he wants to attain, and, eventually, surpass.

On the other hand, Daisuke’s circumstances and motive behind wearing the goggles were only implied in the series itself, but fully fleshed out in Spring 2003. In what’s implied to be a metaphorical conversation with his younger self, it’s said that the reason Daisuke started wearing goggles was because of “a person wearing goggles and riding something that looked like a huge dinosaur" -- Yagami Taichi, whom it seems Daisuke did not properly recognize as Taichi at the time -- during the 1999 Odaiba fog incident, when Vamdemon kidnapped everyone. Wanting “the strength to protect everyone”, Daisuke went home and picked up a pair of goggles, and has this to say about them:

...when I wear them, I guess it’s like, my feelings become stronger... ...Because I have these goggles. Even I didn’t know a lot from the start — well, I probably still don’t even now — but when I wear these, I kinda feel motivated… to do anything!

In other words, it’s likely Daisuke didn’t even realize “Taichi-senpai” was the person he was modeling himself after at the beginning -- it’s a bit unclear due to the circumstances of Spring 2003 being somewhat metaphorical, but either way it seems it had more to do with Taichi as “the hero who protected everyone” rather than simply his amazing soccer senior. Supporting this is Daisuke’s cameo appearance in the Adventure novels, which also has him express frustration at being powerless to protect his family.

(But of course, at whatever point Daisuke realized they were the same person, Taichi’s amazing soccer skills and leadership abilities must have certainly helped how much Daisuke adores him.)

Their general demeanor

Both Daisuke and Tagiru, on the surface, seem to track with the sort of “brash shounen hero” stereotype, but even their way of going about things differs greatly!

Despite Daisuke having a very “abrasive” surface demeanor -- he tends to get easily irritated at other people, and can sometimes come off as being pretty aggressive -- the truth is that he actually defers to others quite easily. This is especially in the case of the seniors or Hikari, but it extends to pretty much anyone -- the moment someone else puts their foot down, criticizes him, or takes a sufficiently large stand, he has a very strong tendency to back down. The fact that he’s so wishy-washy at the beginning of the series is a huge part of his character development, especially since the end of the Kaiser arc and the second half of the series are when he starts to make a serious stand about major things he cares about -- such as stopping more casualties at Chimeramon’s hands, or reaching out to Ken -- but he does still have some degree of deference to his friends’ opinions, and of course especially his seniors. At the very least, even if he gets argumentative, he’ll actually debate it out with them and try to make his case. In other words, Daisuke spends the course of 02 learning to be assertive, but he’s actually not as aggressive as his initial demeanor suggests.

In fact, Daisuke has often been described as being a lot like a puppy, which is something I find to be rather incredibly accurate -- he gets easily riled up or defensive, but in actuality is eager to please others and is otherwise not very threatening (especially if you give him attention).

For what it’s worth, as much as Daisuke seems to often have a lot of confidence (he does the usual shounen hero schtick of gloating about taking enemies down and all that), it’s very rare he actually talks about himself or shows any moments of pride or self-esteem. Even his joking that he might make the national soccer team was that -- a joke -- that he snapped out of the moment Taichi criticized him, and the same episode has him not even entertaining the illusion that they might win against the Tamachi team -- he’s just happy to play them at all. By the time of Kizuna, he’s rather grounded and realistic about his position and abilities in terms of how to approach his career aspirations -- overall he doesn’t actually seem to have a lot of self-awareness, positive or negative, and can be quite humble when it really comes down to it.

Considering that, it makes sense that Daisuke was able to settle for such a simple career aspiration (ramen making) -- he’s not that ambitious, and he doesn’t shoot very high. He’s happy with what he’s able to do, and while he of course wants to succeed in that and do his best, he's still satisfied with not aiming all that high.

Moreover, while he of course tends to be the one who wants to charge forward, it’s quite easy to hold him back if the others advise him that it’s a bad idea (see: 02 episode 7). During times he does put his foot down because he really, really believes it’s the only thing that can be done, Daisuke is actually forgiving of those who don’t want to charge in forward as easily as he does; in both episodes where he chooses to push on forward when the others are hesitant (02 episodes 20 and 48), he holds no ill will towards the others staying behind and simply informs everyone that he’ll go in alone if he has to. 

Tagiru, on the other hand, is actually as aggressive as his demeanor suggests -- he’s not nearly as deferential as Daisuke and doesn’t “deflate” as easily, is much more willing to argue with others (or disregard them and go off on his own if he sufficiently dislikes what they’re doing), and is rather generally brimming with pride and a lot of self-assuredness in being great and awesome. Unlike Daisuke, he is absolutely ambitious and wants to shoot for the highest thing he can possibly be -- hence why he wants to not just be like Taiki but surpass him, because he has the drive to push himself as far as possible.

Tagiru also has a tendency to try and “claim credit” for things (the basketball match in episode 1, the above scene in episode 14); most likely Daisuke wouldn’t even bother (except, perhaps, in the occasional moment of weakness when he’s trying to impress Hikari-chan). Moreover, Tagiru doesn’t need any permission to charge in whatsoever; he’ll do it if he wants to, regardless of what others tell him.

This also contributes to Tagiru being much less of a team player than Daisuke is -- making him excel much better in Hunters’ battle royale format in which his aggressiveness helped him compete in a game where everyone was playing for themselves. It’s likely he would have done very poorly in Daisuke’s situation, where team coordination and bonding was important to their adventure, and, conversely, Daisuke, who’s reliant on others and constantly deferential, would probably have performed very poorly in the Hunt.

V-mon and Gumdramon

Personality-wise, I think it’s generally understood that Daisuke and Tagiru’s actual partners have rather little similarity, and everything is mainly aesthetic (being blue dragon-like Digimon) -- V-mon is rather easygoing and friendly, whereas Gumdramon’s competitiveness and mischievousness matches Tagiru’s own. In general, though, I would also point out that this is reflective of the different ways Adventure/02 and Xros Wars approached Digimon partnership as well. In Adventure/02, Digimon partners were effectively part of the inner self, so V-mon was reflective of Daisuke actually being of a quite friendly and agreeable nature when it really came down to it and you got past his abrasive surface demeanor. As a result, Daisuke and V-mon were like-minded almost unconsciously, to the point of being in sync without even trying. (Not that they’d never got into an argument ever -- see The Door to Summer -- but their relationship was definitely more of a “natural clicking” sense.)

In contrast, Xros Wars very much treats Digimon and humans as individual entities in every respect, with “partners” really just being the Digimon each General/Hunter bonded the most with and has as their core battle partner, so there is much more of a significant level of choice between partners choosing each other in terms of whether their personalities click. (The fact that Taiki and Shoutmon were very disparate in temperament and motive was a big part of the first series of Xros Wars.) Nevertheless, Gumdramon and Tagiru are extremely like-minded -- both a little mischievous, and both very ambitious. Of course, both of them being rather aggressive did lead to some friction in episodes such as 7 and 17, but this led to them ultimately bonding more deeply by working through it.

Unlike V-mon, who had no real affiliation with Agumon, and unlike Tagiru, who can hardly be said to be all that deferential to Taiki, Gumdramon does seem to be significantly deferential to Shoutmon...although mainly out of intimidation more than anything.

Round-up

So, a tl;dr in closing:

Daisuke's relationship to Taichi is almost entirely deferential, and Daisuke holds him in such high esteem that he concentrates more on Taichi being amazing more than he ever factors himself into the equation; Tagiru sees Taiki more as a role model and someone to aspire to and eventually surpass

Daisuke’s reason for taking after Taichi with the goggles is out of a desire to protect others the way Taichi did; Tagiru wears the goggles explicitly to imitate Taiki as part of his goal to be a “superstar” and eventually surpass him

Daisuke is generally deferential to others, is somewhat lacking in ambition, and only really puts a firm foot down when it’s something he cares about; Tagiru is actually capable of being aggressive, does not necessarily defer to others, and has significant ambitions of pushing himself as high as possible

Daisuke’s relationship with V-mon is that of V-mon being reflective of Daisuke’s inner friendliness, and the two simply get along naturally in a friendly manner; Tagiru and Gumdramon had to more consciously form their partnership on being more like-minded, which meant that they had to overcome some obstacles in their relationship due to both of them being more on the aggressive side.

[dahlia-coccinea]

Wuthering Heights - Chapter 3

This is a somewhat difficult chapter to discuss fully in a single post. It introduces so many important themes and has the first glimpse of the story of the earlier inhabitants of the Heights. Sorry if this is too long - I've tried to keep my comments concise. It is difficult for me to not mention every tiny detail I like lol 

We learn that Zillah has worked at the house a year or two and is aware that Catherine’s old room is off-limits but seems to know little else. It shows that despite the emotional unloading that Heathcliff does to Nelly he is very reserved about all that has happened in the past. 

It seems the house has been ruled by chaos for years and there is an instinctual need for the inhabits to defend themselves against it. We see this when Lockwood first climbs into the box bed and closes the doors he says he “felt secure against the vigilance of Heathcliff, and every one else.” The need to shut out the world and crawling into small spaces is repeated later in this chapter with Catherine's diary details how, with Heathcliff, in an attempt to avoid the cruelty of Hindley and Frances “made ourselves as snug as our means allowed in the arch of the dresser,” and closed off the world by fastening their pinafores together. 

We get some other interesting glimpses of Catherine and Heathcliff early friendship. It is quite popular to say that Heathcliff is Catherine’s whip and he is a blank slate for her, but I think this diary entry is another example of their oddly egalitarian relationship. First, we have this scene of Catherine lashing out against their ill-treatment:

I took my dingy volume by the scroop, and hurled it into the dog-kennel, vowing I hated a good book. Heathcliff kicked his to the same place. Then there was a hubbub! 

That Heathcliff swiftly follows her lead certainly shows a reciprocation of the other’s attitude and worldview - or simply that if one is going to get in trouble then the other will follow suit. Still, I do hold that he doesn’t just mimic her or do as she wishes. We get a number of examples that show neither play a clear leader in their antics with one happening shortly after this incident. Catherine's diary continues: 

I have got the time on with writing for twenty minutes; but my companion is impatient, and proposes that we should appropriate the dairywoman’s cloak, and have a scamper on the moors, under its shelter. A pleasant suggestion—and then, if the surly old man come in, he may believe his prophecy verified—we cannot be damper, or colder, in the rain than we are here.

Here Heathcliff takes the lead in coming up with more plans to get further into trouble and it seems Catherine is more than pleased to go along with it. 

There are other, now iconic, details of Catherine’s character in this chapter. Such as this description of the box bed from Lockwood:

The ledge, where I placed my candle, had a few mildewed books piled up in one corner; and it was covered with writing scratched on the paint. This writing, however, was nothing but a name repeated in all kinds of characters, large and small—Catherine Earnshaw, here and there varied to Catherine Heathcliff, and then again to Catherine Linton.

And later:

Catherine’s library was select, and its state of dilapidation proved it to have been well used, though not altogether for a legitimate purpose: scarcely one chapter had escaped a pen-and-ink commentary—at least the appearance of one—covering every morsel of blank that the printer had left. Some were detached sentences; other parts took the form of a regular diary, scrawled in an unformed, childish hand. At the top of an extra page (quite a treasure, probably, when first lighted on) I was greatly amused to behold an excellent caricature of my friend Joseph,—rudely, yet powerfully sketched. An immediate interest kindled within me for the unknown Catherine, and I began forthwith to decipher her faded hieroglyphics.

Catherine holed up in the box bed and writing on every spare bit of paper she can get her hands on and scratching her name in the paint, tell of someone who has no one to talk to. She’s alone and is compelled to at least make sense of herself with ink and paper. Nelly does say later on that “there was not a soul else that she might fashion into an adviser” beside Nelly herself. Which is a poor adviser, considering how Nelly disliked her throughout her childhood. 

Adding to Catherine’s loneliness is the endless abuse of Heathcliff and herself, at the hands of seemingly everyone in the house. In this short excerpt from her diary, we are told Hindley’s treatment of Heathcliff is “atrocious,” and that now he is the new master they are no longer allowed to play, and “a mere titter is sufficient to send us into corners.” Heathcliff has his hair pulled by Frances, Catherine’s ears are boxed by Joseph and they’re both berated and verbally punished by him. Finally Hindley “seizing one of us by the collar, and the other by the arm, hurled both into the back-kitchen” where she says that outside on the moors “cannot be damper, or colder.” Upon their return and proceeding punishment she says she’s cried until her head ached. Consistent with what we later hear her tell Nelly, that Heathcliff’s miseries are her own, it is not her punishment or ill-treatment that makes her so upset but the casting out of Heathcliff. She writes: 

“Poor Heathcliff! Hindley calls him a vagabond, and won’t let him sit with us, nor eat with us any more; and, he says, he and I must not play together, and threatens to turn him out of the house if we break his orders. He has been blaming our father (how dared he?) for treating H. too liberally; and swears he will reduce him to his right place—”

Critics that suggest Catherine is glassy-eyed and naive idealist really gloss over these excerpts in my opinion. There is a constant downplaying of her abuse compared to the other characters among those that seemingly think she’s the only character with moral agency and therefore the cause of all problems in the story. 

I love how strange the encounter that Lockwood has with the book “Seventy Times Seven, and the First of the Seventy-First,” and the following dream is when first reading Wuthering Heights. Hardly anything in WH is superfluous and when rereading it this makes much more sense. This is quite an interesting segue into meeting Catherine’s ghost, and later learning more of her life. Forgiveness is such an important aspect in the book and will come up many times. Notably, while on her deathbed, Catherine tells Heathcliff she has forgiven him and that he should forgive her. 

I think it is amusing and also very interesting how in Lockwood’s dream he’s walking with Joseph (in itself is very metaphorical) and Joseph tells him he should have brought a “pilgrim’s staff” and that Joseph’s staff is really just a “heavy-headed cudgel.”

It’s unsurprising the appearance of Catherine’s ghost is so iconic. It’s impossible to discern if it is merely Lockwood’s dream or him actually encountering her spirit. There are details about her that Lockwood, at this point, does not yet know. Still, he does make many attempts to logically explain what happens. Either way, the imagery of the scene is both frightening and tragic. 

We get some really interesting glimpses of Heathcliff’s character in this scene. Normally he is very collected and if his emotions are out of control they tend towards anger, but here we see him truly terrified and unable to maintain composure after finding Lockwood in the room.

Heathcliff stood near the entrance, in his shirt and trousers; with a candle dripping over his fingers, and his face as white as the wall behind him. The first creak of the oak startled him like an electric shock: the light leaped from his hold to a distance of some feet, and his agitation was so extreme, that he could hardly pick it up.

Even after Lockwood identifies himself Heathcliff is said to have found it “impossible to hold it [the candle] steady” and was “crushing his nails into his palms, and grinding his teeth to subdue the maxillary convulsions.” It is interesting that Heathcliff doesn’t become so angry that he throws Lockwood out. It’s another oddly humanizing moment for him. An overly dramatic author would likely have him behave like a complete monster, but he instead tells him to finish the night there and not to scream like that again. This is a scene that I wish we could have some perspective from Heathcliff. Not only is he startled by a noise coming from Catherine’s old room but then Lockwood adds to his distress by rambling about Catherine saying:

And that minx, Catherine Linton, or Earnshaw, or however she was called—she must have been a changeling—wicked little soul! She told me she had been walking the earth these twenty years: a just punishment for her mortal transgressions, I’ve no doubt!

This and Lockwood’s further talk which makes it apparent he has snooped and glimpsed a little bit of Catherine’s and Heathcliff’s past, does set Heathcliff off: 

“What can you mean by talking in this way to me!” thundered Heathcliff with savage vehemence. “How—how dare you, under my roof?—God! he’s mad to speak so!” And he struck his forehead with rage.

Lockwood doesn’t quite understand this reaction saying:

I did not know whether to resent this language or pursue my explanation; but he seemed so powerfully affected that I took pity and proceeded with my dreams; affirming I had never heard the appellation of “Catherine Linton” before, but reading it often over produced an impression which personified itself when I had no longer my imagination under control. Heathcliff gradually fell back into the shelter of the bed, as I spoke; finally sitting down almost concealed behind it. I guessed, however, by his irregular and intercepted breathing, that he struggled to vanquish an excess of violent emotion. 

And later when watching Heathcliff call for Cathy through the window:

There was such anguish in the gush of grief that accompanied this raving, that my compassion made me overlook its folly, and I drew off, half angry to have listened at all, and vexed at having related my ridiculous nightmare, since it produced that agony; though why was beyond my comprehension. 

At one point Lockwood also believes Heathcliff to be “dashing a tear from his eyes” during their conversation. Of course, he is confused because he doesn’t know that one of Heathcliff’s few fixations has been looking for signs of Catherine for the last 17ish years. 

I’ve mentioned this before, but something that doesn’t happen in the book because Heathcliff never narrates it, but I think if someone retold the story or made a film adaptation it could be interesting to explore, is how Heathcliff came to find Catherine’s writing on the wall. She must have written it shortly before she talks to Nelly since she’s already considering marrying Linton, and Heathcliff must still be living at the Heights since his name is there also. When Heathcliff returns three years later we know that he takes over Catherine’s old room so really he should have discovered it the first night there, probably after having visited the Grange. 

@astrangechoiceoffavourites has mentioned this in one their posts, but another great aspect of the book is the background happenings that are very realistic for the time and particularly farm life. Cats and dogs roam about, Heathcliff mentions that the house goes to bed at “nine in winter, and rise at four,” and there are mentions of chores, etc. The details create a realistic backdrop and ground the characters in reality. I feel like the novel is never overly sentimental because of this and it really strengthens it. 

After Heathcliff comes down to the kitchen where the household is starting their day, we are instantly reminded how terrible Heathcliff can be when he swears at and threatens to hit Cathy for not making herself useful and working for her keep. Ironically, he tells her, “You shall pay me for the plague of having you eternally in my sight,” when, as I’ve mentioned before he has her sit at the dining table with everyone else. He also could just send her away if he despises her so much. 

I see a lot of similarity between the glimpse we get of Catherine Earnshaw from her diary and the current situation Cathy Heathcliff is in. Their situations are certainly different but both are in a similar state of abuse and neglect and both are quite self-possessed and antagonistic towards those that try to control them. They also are associated with books (Catherine filling them up with writing and Cathy reading) and have an affinity for animals. In this chapter it is mentioned that while Cathy is reading she has “to push away a dog, now and then, that snoozled its nose overforwardly into her face.” There are other similar encounters, such as when the dogs at the Heights come to greet Catherine Earnshaw upon her return from the Lintons. 

I’m sure I’m forgetting points I want to make in these posts. I’ll probably to a larger summary after I complete the book and try to tie together some of the ideas I’ve mentioned. Its also difficult because I keep wanting to bring up things that happen later in the book and I want to make a note of it now - but I’m also trying to reread as impartially as possible. Which is really an impossible task lol. 

@astrangechoiceoffavourites

[jade4813]

Resolution

Fandom: Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist

Title: Resolution

Rating: G

Pairing: Zoey/Max

Synopsis: Sequel to Fallout and Repercussions (and episode 7 of the series). Zoey has finally figured out how she feels about Max, but when she tries to get up the never to tell him, Everything. Goes. Wrong. Will the two of them ever manage to get on the same page?

The clock on the wall read 6:22 a.m., and Zoey was already on her third cup of coffee for the day. She remembered with some regret the way she’d once expressed surprise at Joan’s suggestion that they share a drink in the middle of the afternoon. Her day hadn’t even officially started, and she was already wishing she had something to steel her nerves.

All the caffeine she’d consumed was making her jittery, the coffee roiling around in her otherwise empty stomach until she felt sick. She briefly considered grabbing some cereal or perhaps a piece of bread to settle her stomach, but the thought of consuming food just made her feel slightly ill.

She pressed her hand to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. She could do this! She had a plan! When Max showed up to work, she’d take him aside and tell him that she’d realized that she loved him and wanted to give their relationship a shot! How hard could it be? After all, she already knew how he felt about her, right?

Except…he’d been even weirder than usual with her over the last couple of days, ever since their last conversation, when he’d suggested she should go talk to her mom.

“Zoey? Uh…what the hell was that?” he’d asked.

“What was what?”

His eyes narrowed, he looked at her in confusion and concern. “You…you didn’t just…you didn’t hear that? Are you messing with me right now?”

Completely at a loss as to what he meant, she shook her head slowly, “Max, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Hear what? Did something happen?” she leaned to the side to look around him, scanning the office for something out of place.

He stepped back, running one hand across his face. “I’m losing it. Lack of sleep or…I-I thought you…I must have imagined it. It’s fine. Never mind.” She threw him a reassuring smile, but he hurried back to his desk and avoided her for the rest of the day. And for the two days since, although she occasionally caught him watching her closely, like he was trying to figure her out. Or as though she might bite.

“I don’t bite,” she reassured herself in an undertone. But what if his strange behavior was because he’d realized his feelings were all a mistake? What if he’d realized he wasn’t in love with her anymore – at least, not like that? She hadn’t heard any of his heartsongs since the night he coopted a scooter for her, after her dad fell. Was it possible he just wasn’t romantically interested in her anymore?

Zoey pushed away the thought with a grimace and a stern self-reproach. “Not. Helping.” Desperate for a distraction, she grabbed for her tablet and tried to focus on her work, instead. Her love life might be a disaster at present, but this was a language she understood. This came naturally to her, in a way that navigating her love life did not.

In her very first computer course in college, Zoey had been tasked with programming a robot to wind its way through a maze. She had managed to complete the assignment faster than any of her other classmates, going on to earn an A+ in the course at the end of the semester. When she took a step back and considered her current situation, it wasn’t that different. She just had to get herself and Max through the maze of confusion brought on by intense emotion and miscommunication. And then everything would work itself out.

Reassured by the thought, she shot a quick glance around to make sure she was still alone. Her day hadn’t technically started yet, so she took her tablet to an isolation pod and curled up inside to craft some code. By the time she started to hear her coworkers filter in, her simple program was up and running – a digital Zoey and Max, her programmable “robots,” were winding their way through a complex maze. She smiled when she programmed the code directing the two to lean in for a kiss (hearts showing above their heads and all) when they finally made their way to each other.

It was a silly little program, but it made her feel better. Maybe she was overthinking things. She’d tell Max she wanted to be with him, and the two would kiss. How hard could it be?

Lifting the sliding door to the pod, Zoey stepped out and stretched, working out some kinks that had settled in her shoulders. With one last reassuring glance at her ZoeyBot’s progress through the maze, she closed the program and pulled up her notepad.

Any project was possible, as long as one went in with a plan. Almost every task could be broken down into straightforward, manageable steps. Like programming code. Just take each step in turn, one after the other, until the task was finished. With that in mind, she jotted herself a quick note.

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him MaxBot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

Four steps. Possibly three, if she decided she was too embarrassed to show him her computer program. Three or four completely simple, totally manageable steps. Completely doable plan. Now all Max had to do was to show up, and she could put her plan into action.

Unable to sit still, she dropped her tablet onto her desk and headed towards the restroom. All that coffee was taking its toll, but she also hoped that pouring some cold water over her wrists could help her stay focused and calm. She lingered a few extra minutes to give herself a silent pep-talk and practice an eloquent speech about her feelings before steeling her shoulders and heading back outside.

She returned to the office just in time to see Max grab his tablet from his desk and head towards the wicker seats – the pattern of avoidance he’d established over the last couple of days. Hoping to catch him before he got too wrapped up in code and she lost her nerve, she darted to her desk and grabbed for her tablet.

“Max!” she barked abruptly, a shade louder than necessary. He jumped, startled, and spun around to look at her. Softening her tone, she offered him a sheepish smile as she asked, “Do you have a second? There’s something I wanted to show you.” Her program was perhaps a little silly, but maybe he’d find it endearing? She could only hope.

Before he could come up with an excuse to turn her down, she jogged up to him and pulled him aside. “Okay, promise you won’t laugh. I know this is a little silly, but I wanted to show you – uh –”

Her voice trailed off as she held up what she thought would be her tablet and realized that, in her anxiety and rush to catch him, she’d accidentally grabbed her stapler instead. She actually had a stapler? Why? She couldn’t even remember the last time she needed to staple something!

Max seemed equally as confused. “Your…stapler?” he offered. “It’s…nice.”

Completely mortified, her courage fled. “Ah…yes. My stapler. I was…um…wondering. If you had any staples. I think I’m out.” That was unlikely. It was probably holding the same staples that had come with it when it was shipped from the factory, for all she knew. These things came preloaded, right? She had no idea.

“Ah,” he replied, drawing out the word for several seconds. “I don’t think so. Have you tried the supply closet? There might be some in there.”

Zoey forced a laugh. “The supply closet! Right! Makes total sense! Duh,” she waved the stapler wildly, almost clocking herself in the head. “Thanks a lot, Max…i...million.” She heard the ill-advised nickname as though it was coming from outside of herself, from someone else’s mouth, and looked at him in horror.

His smile was uncertain. “No problem. That’s not really a nickname we’re planning to run with, is it?”

“Nope! No, we’re not!” she promised. Trying to cover for her gaff, she aimed a playful shrug at his shoulder to break the tension, somehow completely missing and punching the tablet out of his hands, instead. “That’s…oh, sorry! I’ll…I’ll replace that if it’s broken.” Maybe discretion really was the better part of valor, she decided, not even wanting to see the look on his face as she backed away as quickly as she possibly could before she accidentally broke something else.

It turned out programming code was much easier than telling her best friend she had realized he might be the love of her life.

Later that evening, once she was safely back at home and unlikely to humiliate herself any further, Zoey scowled to herself and she pulled up her ZoeyBot/MaxBot computer program. It didn’t take her long to add a giant, menacing stapler that chased ZoeyBot down the first section of the maze.

Then, heaving a heavy sigh, she pulled up her To Do list. It hadn’t served her very well so far, but she still had confidence in the basic premise. Make a plan. Stick to the plan. Don’t break anything. Check. With that in mind, she reviewed her list.

Okay, so maybe she was too nervous around him to make a smooth job of it. Was there any way she could take the actual confession part out of her hands? She mulled over the question as she stared off into the distance. Finally, it hit her. Balloons! Everyone liked balloons, right?

Grinning at the brilliance of her new plan, she pulled up a web browser and search for a balloon delivery service in the area. Once she found what she wanted, she placed the order for the next day. In the morning, a courier would bring her balloons, reading “I Love U Max.” The last was a specialty balloon – they’d write in his name, and the sample online looked decent enough. Before pressing the button to finalize the order, she gave it one last critical look. Love? No, she should go with the heart instead. Less awkward, she decided, hitting “submit.” The plan was in place! He’d see the balloons and…that would be it! Not risk of ambiguity or bodily injury!

Well, maybe not it, exactly. If they were going to be in a relationship, she was going to have to talk to Joan. She would hardly be able to hide it, since she was planning on confessing in the middle of the office. Once the cat was out of the bag, she wouldn’t be able to continue to be his supervisor. It wouldn’t be right. But she was confident they could find a solution. Feeling much better than she had an hour or so before, Zoey made a few revisions to her list:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break anything.

Balloons arrive

Tell him you want to be with him.

Kiss.

She didn’t know the exact time the balloons would arrive; more like a narrow window. So she might have to take things a little by ear. But with a plan this solid, surely nothing could go wrong, right?

Right.

The next day, Zoey realized she’d been humming happily to herself off and on all morning, but she couldn’t help it. She was in such a good mood! This plan of hers was going to come off perfectly. When she walked up to the elevator bay and saw Max waiting for the doors to open, she threw him her brightest smile. “Good morning!”

He looked a little taken aback. “Morning, Zoey. You seem to be in a good mood today.”

She nodded. “Yup! I think it’s going to be a fantastic day. It’s just a feeling.”

“Well, then, I hope you’re right,” he replied pleasantly.

She considered taking the moment of privacy to go ahead and confess her feelings, but then others joined them on the elevator and the window of opportunity was lost. No matter. She had balloons! The balloons would not fail her!

“I don’t understand,” she told the balloon courier with an askance look at the two balloons he held out for her to take. “Where are the rest of them?”

Not appearing to be terribly concerned, he shrugged and offered in insufficient explanation and complete lack of apology, “We were out. My boss said we can complete the order next week.”

“Next week! That doesn’t help! I had a whole plan and now all I have to show for it is ‘U Max’. What am I supposed to do with ‘U Max’?”

He shrugged again. Clearly, it wasn’t his problem. She took the balloons from him with numb fingers and briefly considered letting them loose in the stairway to hide evidence of her failed plan when she heard Max speak behind her. “’U Max’? What’s this about?”

Come up with an excuse! Fast! She ordered her poor, beleaguered brain as she spun around. “Maaaaax-i-mus!” Again? Seriously? What the hell was wrong with her? “I got you these!”

“I can see that,” he replied, staring up at the balloons in question. “I’m just trying to figure out what they mean. U Max? Max U? Is this a secret code?”

Her laugh was forced, high-pitched, and veering on hysterical. “No! Of course not! It’s just a new…management plan I’m trying. I’ll be randomly bringing balloons in to people on the team. To let you know that, uh, well, you know. We…see you. And we…appreciate…you know, you. That is, you. Max. I read it in a book somewhere, I think.”

“Really? That’s a little weird. What book?” She would have thought he was on to her, but he sounded more curious than suspicious.

“Oh…I don’t even remember now. Would you just take your balloons?”

He reached for them. “Sure thing. Well, thank you for reaffirmation of my name, anyway,” he teased.

Her answering chuckle was almost genuine. “We spend so much time in this building some days, I thought there was a chance you might have forgotten.”

“Is that the reason for the new nicknames? Because, for the record, I don’t think I like Maximus any better than Maximillion.”

“No, but duly noted,” she replied with a forced smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt as she returned to her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joan look over at her, Max, and the balloons and shake her head in bafflement before returning to her own work. Zoey was almost pathetically grateful her boss didn’t call her in to demand an explanation. She wasn’t entirely sure she could explain what was going on with her right now, even to herself.

When she saw him walk away and thought he might not see her, she rested her forehead on her desk with a groan, tempted to bang it repeatedly against the hard surface if she wasn’t sure that would bring her too much attention.

Why did her efforts to sweep Max off his feel keep going so haywire? What was she doing wrong?

“Mo, this is getting out of hand. You have to help me!” she cried, pacing back and forth in her neighbor’s living room. Saying it was “getting out of hand” was probably generous. Things were getting downright dire. Her plan was on Day 4, and it had just been one disaster after another.

“I’m not sure there’s any help for you,” Mo offered, shaking her head. “Have you tried just talking to him?”

“Yes! I tried today!”

Mo sat back on the couch. “And?”

“Aaaaand…I decided I would casually drop it in over coffee. But I didn’t realize my ZoeyBot program was up on my screen, and he saw it and asked what it was. One thing led to another, I freaked out and tried to cover it up, and I accidentally…kinda…tripped and…threw an entire cup of coffee at him.”

He blinked. “Wow. I knew you were a mess, but I think you may be even more of a mess than I realized.”

Zoey moaned and sank to the couch beside him. “Really? It’s not even remotely a surprise to me.” Closing her eyes, she leaned back and mulled over her predicament. Then she bolted upright. “I know! What if I do a some kind of flash mob for him?”

“No.”

“What? Hear me out! I get a bunch of people together…”

“No.”

“…and we do some kind of song…”

Mo put a hand on her arm. “Let me stop you right there. So far this week, you’ve brought him a stapler. You got him exactly half of your love confession in balloons, but not even the half that would actually convey what you wanted him to know. And you tried to give him third degree burns. You really think you can get through a whole choreographed dance number without breaking something? Like yourself? Or him?”

Zoey had to reluctantly concede the point, but she wasn’t quite ready to let this idea go. Remembering how she’d imagined him singing outside her window, she suggested, “So what if it’s just me? I could bring a boombox with me and sing outside his window. I saw it in a movie I watched with him once.”

Mo threw her a skeptical look. “Do you even have a boombox?”

She shrugged. “No. Do you?” His answering stare spoke volumes. “Okay, no background music. Just me.”

“Uh huh. And what would you sing?”

“I don’t know; I’m sure I could come up with something. Like, ‘Oh, my lo-‘”

“Nope.”

“Okay. What about, ‘It’s a little bit fu-‘”

“Absolutely not. You should not sing for him. Trust me.”

“But I –” she began.

“No.”

She broke off with a groan. “Okay, what do you suggest?”

Mo sighed. “The same thing I’ve been suggesting all along. No props. No gimmicks. Just walk up to him and find a way to casually drop into conversation that you want to have lots of sex and babies.”

“Are you actually dropping a Love Actually quote on me right now?” Zoey asked in disbelief.

“I’m trying to speak your language,” he replied flippantly, breaking into a grin.

She rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet and headed for the door. “All right. Fine. I’ll just…tell him how I feel. There’s no chance that can end in disaster!”

The table was set. Dinner was in the oven. Zoey was wearing her best dress. She paused long enough to make sure she had matches to light the candles in the candelabra she’d borrowed from her parents’ house earlier in the day, then checked to make sure his jacket was hanging by the door.

She’d gotten Max’s jacket from her mom when she stopped by to visit earlier that day. He’d apparently left it at her parents’ house by accident a few evenings prior, when he’d stopped by to bring her dad some soup from his favorite restaurant across town. It was as good a pretext as any to get him to Zoey’s place, where she would serve him a romantic dinner and confess. Everything.

Wanting to make sure everything was ready, she grabbed her tablet to review her plan one last time. Her (many-times) revised list read:

Get Max somewhere private.

Show him Maxbot?? (He’ll get it, right?)

Don’t break or burn anything. or anyone!!!!!!

Balloons arrive

Bring him coffee

Dinner at home??? “Ham is easy but shows effort”

Make it romantic (candles, yes! Flowers, no. Don’t take your chances)

Music! (Mo says no singing Sing if necessary)

Touch nothing hot until it’s over

No liquids either

Pretext of having his coat?

When he shows up, tell him you want to be with love him.

Kiss.

She took a quick glance around to make sure everything was set up according to her list. Perfect. Things seemed to be going according to plan, for once.

With a satisfied smile, she grabbed her phone. Of course, she probably should have made sure he was free before going through the trouble of cooking an entire ham. But it was too late for such regrets. She tapped her phone with her hand as she paced back and forth, practicing what she was going to say.

“Hey, Max! It’s me! Zoey. It’s Zoey. Do I even need to say that? He has caller ID. Okay, just go with hey, Max! Oh, but he knows who he is. Maybe just hey! Now I sound like a chipmunk. Heeey? No, that sounds creepy. Hi! Howdy! Ugh. Hey…”

As she paced back and forth, she lost track of what was going on around her and so didn’t notice the smoke billowing out of her oven until the fire detector went off, beeping shrilly in her ear. “No! No, no, no, no no…” she muttered desperately as she raced to the oven and pulled it open. On second thought, she should have kept it closed as a ball of fire followed another billow of smoke. “What the-”

She was catapulted out of the way when Mo came in from out of nowhere, shoving her aside to spray an entire fire extinguisher’s worth of suppressant into her oven. As he worked, she jabbed the fire detector with a broom until it fell silence. Then she returned to the stove to throw her meal a morose look. If her ham hadn’t been ruined already, it was now.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Mo demanded in aggrieved affrontery, pulling out her obliterated meal once he’d assured himself that the fire had been extinguished. Wiping off some of the chemicals coating the top, he poked around at the charred meal and exclaimed, “You left the plastic on?”

“What? No, of course not! I removed the plastic!” Zoey peered around Mo’s shoulder to look at the ham, poking it with one dubious finger. “There was a second layer of plastic on the back half of it?” There was, now both firmly baked into the outer skin of the ham and crispy from where it had gone aflame.

Mo sighed and looked around, taking in the scene. Zoey in her dress and heels, way beyond “stay-at-home casual.” The dining table, set for two. The romantic music playing softly over her radio.

“I-I-I-” Zoey stammered, trying to come up with some sort of self-defense, but Mo wasn’t hearing it.

“What did I tell you about props and gimmicks? Would you please go tell Max how you feel about him before you burn down this entire building?”

“I just thought…a romantic meal…”

Grabbing her gently but firmly by the shoulders, he steered her towards the door. “Go. Tell. Him. How. You. Feel.”

“But my meal!” she protested weakly.

He shook his head. “It’s already had a Viking funeral. There’s nothing more we can do for it now. Go take care of this while I dispose of the body. Go.”

Dejected that her plans had once again followed through, Zoey dug in her heels. “Wait! I need my jacket. That black one. And – and my purse.”

She gestured and Mo leaned over to grab both items, passing them over with a dubious look. “That’s yours?” he asked when she slipped the jacket on. It smelled like Max, and Zoey breathed in deeply, pretending it was his arms wrapped around her.

It was huge on her, but she nodded. “Yup! Okay, well…I should go, I guess.”

“Uh huh. Just try not to do anything weird between here and there. I don’t want to get any calls that you’ve been sent to the hospital. Or jail.”

“You won’t. Scout’s honor. You have nothing to worry about!”

Mo shot a pointed look over his shoulder at her demolished kitchen. “Uh huh.”

Zoey rocked back and forth on her toes as she stared at the door in front of her. Too scared to knock, she pulled her phone out of her purse and texted him instead. Hey, are you home? My mom said you left a coat at her place. I’m in the neighborhood, so I can drop it by if you’re there.

She could actually hear his phone chirp through the door. A few seconds later, she got the response. You don’t need to do that! I can swing by and pick it up later if you don’t want to go out of your way. Or you can bring it to work. Thanks for the offer!

He ended his text with a smiley emoji, and she spent much longer than necessary trying to decipher what that meant. Was he genuinely just worried about her taking a special trip? Or was this part of his efforts to avoid her?

She considered making a run for it, but she suspected Mo wouldn’t let her back into her apartment unless he was certain she’d told Max the truth and would theoretically no longer be a danger to herself or others. Before she could lose whatever shred of nerve she still retained, she shrugged out of his coat (admittedly reluctantly), lifted her hand, and rapped briskly on his door.

He opened it a few seconds later, his face a mask of surprise. “Zoey? Wow, that was…really fast.”

What she meant to say was, “Hey! Like I said, I was in the neighborhood.” What she actually said sounded like, “Hey, Ma-nipples.”

He was shirtless again. Didn’t he know what that did to her self-composure? To her ability to string a coherent thought together? Granted, it wasn’t exactly fair of her to blame him. He’d had no real reason to know she was lurking outside his door when she’d sent him that text. But still.

He looked adorably awkward as he lifted one hand to run his fingers through his wet hair, trying to get it in some semblance of order. She’d apparently caught him coming out of the shower. So he was standing in front of her both half-naked and damp? Good. Lord.

Oblivious to her sudden struggle for air, he explained, “Yeah, sorry. I just got back from the gym. I didn’t realize you were coming by.” He hesitated for a moment and then asked, “Do you want to come in?” As she stepped through the door, he looked over his shoulder like he wasn’t sure if he should go grab a shirt. Or like he wasn’t alone.

She stumbled to a halt, her heart seizing in her chest. “Oh, god. You’re not busy, are you? I mean, if you have someone here -”

He cocked his head to the side, throwing her a confused smile. “No, of course not!” Glancing down, he leaned in, his hand reaching towards her. “Oh, I should –”

His face was moving closer to hers, and Zoey’s brain backfired. This was it! The moment she’d been waiting for! Her little MaxBot and ZoeyBots had traversed the maze, avoiding homicidal staplers, menacing balloons, and boiling vats of coffee (and, after tonight, actual bursts of fire that she might as well program in when she got home), and it was finally time to do the thing she’d fantasized about all week! Success!

Completely forgetting that she was holding his coat – and that she hadn’t actually gotten around to confessing her feelings yet – she lurched forward, convinced he was about to initiate a kiss. A kiss she fully intended to reciprocate. The most perfect first kiss one could ever possibly imagine, she was sure.

Instead, in her haste and panic, she missed the mark. Instead of a romantic first kiss, she accidentally semi-headbutted him, her lips landing somewhere in vicinity of the air below his chin. He jerked back in surprise, causing her to lose her balance and stumble forward, stomping on his toe.

“Zoey! What was that?” he yelped, hand cupped over his nose, as he hopped on one foot. Is it broken? Am I bleeding?” She was too horrified at herself to respond, so he pulled his hand away to check for blood before throwing her a bewildered look. “Did you come over here to headbutt me for not being able to hang out lately? Because I really have been busy.”

“What?” she protested. “Of course not!”

He must have seen the misery on her face, because his grimace melted into a soft, reassuring smile. Clearly struggling to hold back a wince, he asked gently, “Okay, then, do you want to tell me what this is all about? Trust me. You have my undivided attention.”

She clutched her hands in front of her, trying to stop them from trembling, and tried to find the words to explain. She found she couldn’t look him in the eye and form a coherent thought. His lips also seemed a little too daunting. His chest was…nope. Still bare. She wasn’t even going to attempt it. Fixing her attention to a spot roughly around his Adam’s apple – that seemed more or less safe enough – she tried to remember part of the elegant speech she’d prepared earlier in the week to tell him how she felt. The only thing that came to mind was “You Max” and she’d already discovered first-hand how insufficient that was to get the job done.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged forward. “I’m…not very good with people. I think we both know that. The only thing I’m really good at is programming! And so I just thought…if I could get the Zoey-Bot and the Max-Bot through the maze…”

Even she could tell she wasn’t making any sense. His Adam’s apple moved as he asked, “The…Max-Bot? I-I don’t…You want me to build some-”

“No. That’s not what I’m trying to say.” Staring at his neck wasn’t helping, so she squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pull herself together. “I’m trying to say that I took your advice and I talked to my mom.”

Silence fell between them for a few seconds before he replied gently, “Oh. Well, that’s good! Isn’t it? What did she say?”

She opened her eyes, meeting his unflinchingly. “She said…after she met my dad, she could spend the rest of her life running from the way she felt about him, trying to protect her heart. Or she could take a chance that she might lose him one day, and cherish every moment they were lucky to have each other along the way. The good days and the bad, as long as they were together. She said that you can never know the future, but the happiness she found when she chose to take a chance on my dad, when she chose love, outweighed all the pain. Even the pain of losing him.” She had said that, no matter how much it would hurt to lose Zoey’s father, she would never, ever regret loving him.

Max didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as she could tell, barely breathed. So she took a tiny step towards him and confessed, “And Max…I promised I would be honest with you, so I will. I’m still scared. And I don’t want to ever lose you. I don’t know how I could bear it. But I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you…a long time ago. Even though I was too scared to admit it to myself. And, who knows? Maybe I never would have if it weren’t for my superpower. Maybe? What I do know is that being with you…it makes me happy. So I’m – I’m choosing love over fear. I’m choosing you. I mean, to be with you.” Her courage depleted, she finished lamely, “I, I mean…if that’s…if that’s still what you want?”

He reached out, trailing fingertips down her arm until she released the death grip she hand on her hands and took his in hers. Her skin felt cold and, she was afraid, probably clammy. But she could swear he was trembling, too, and it wasn’t just her. “What I want? Of course it is! Zoey, I’m not trying to push you into anything. We don’t have to go fast with this! I know you’re scared about what might happen. I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either! It’s why I didn’t tell you how I felt for so long. But I also know that when I think about the future – my future – I want you to be in it. And that’s worth taking a chance on. I don’t mind taking this slow, as long as we’re doing it together.”

Her breath escaped her with a whoosh, as she felt the tension drain from her shoulders. “Really?”

“Really,” he responded reassuringly, giving her hand a quick squeeze. “As long as you promise Manipples also isn’t going to be my new nickname.” That elicited a laugh, so he suggested, “I have an idea. Why don’t I…put on a shirt,” his mouth curved into that boyish grin that she loved so much as he gestured vaguely at his chest, “and then we can watch a movie together.”

“I’d like that,” she replied, rocking up onto her toes as she returned his smile.

“But first, if you don’t mind…could we try that kiss again?” At his surprised look, she smiled sheepishly and explained, “I’d like to be able to say that I managed it without nearly sending you to the hospital. I made a promise to Mo, after all.” Plus, it was pretty mortifying that he hadn’t even been aware that’s what she’d been attempting when she nearly knocked him out.

“Yeah, of course,” Max breathed, tugging gently on her hand to pull her forward. Stepping into his embrace was like coming home, she realized, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down towards her. With one hand resting between her shoulder blades and the other at the small of her back, he pulled her tight against him. Zoey closed her eyes as she savored the feeling of his lips as they brushed softly against hers once, then twice. She parted her lips and heard him groan deep in his throat as he deepened the kiss.

She thought she could stand there in Max’s entranceway, kissing him forever, but he finally gave her one last, tender kiss and pulled away, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you, Zoey,” he whispered.

“I love you, Max,” she breathed in return.

[orihara-infobroker]

All of those prompts are great :o it's really hard to choose. But---- 37 for Shikizaya and 44 for any pairing you want. I'm so curious :D

(I was trying to get both done at the same time but it’s taking too long so I’m going to break them up. Here’s the first. I’ll try to get the second done by Tuesday)

37 - “Feel Free To Admire Me” - Shikizaya 

“I’ve run into a bit of a unique problem.” Izaya’s eyes flickered immediately to Shiki at the executive’s measured words. Izaya kept his expression pleasantly neutral but Shiki knew he had caught the raven’s attention. He dropped a file onto Izaya’s desk. “One of our shipments was stolen. I need you to track it down."

Izaya arched a brow. "That doesn't sound unique."

"It appears to have been stolen by a small research company."

"What was in the shipment?" 

"Guns." 

"Why would a research company steal a yakuza shipment of guns?" 

"That's what I would like to know."

"OK… But… How did a research company steal a shipment of guns from the yakuza?”

Shiki’s expression twisted into one of irritation. “They stole the truck.”

“The truck your people loaded…?” Izaya arched a brow. “What were your men doing?”

“Not my men. I wasn’t in charge of this. They were taking a smoke break. The driver went to take a piss. No one was paying attention. The thief just got into the driver’s seat and drove away. And now I’m the one who has to clean it up.”

Izaya’s eyes widened. “Whose men were they? Is he going to lose a finger? Or maybe get kicked out? Or murdered?”

Shiki scowled at Izaya. “Why are you excited about that? Just find the shipment and find out why they stole it.”

“I’ve never seen someone lose a finger. Will they really have the guts to follow through? What kind of person would be able to do it? Humans are usually so cowardly, after all. I’d be interested to see if this man has the will to go against natural instincts for the sake of personal honour.”

“No one is going to lose a finger,” Shiki informed Izaya with a hint of amusement. “Call me when you have something.”

“Fine. But if someone loses a finger, can I watch?”

“If you don’t find my guns, you might be the one to lose a finger,” Shiki replied ominously and Izaya shivered.

“Scary~” 

~

“I found your missing shipment,” Izaya announced through the phone. “I have an address and I’m heading there now to confirm. Care to accompany me?”

“Did you find out why they stole it?”

“Yes. Someone hi-jacked your shipment to piggyback their own smuggled goods into the country.”

“Why steal from the yakuza instead of hiring us to do the smuggling?”

“If I were to provide a conjecture, it would be because they are, by all appearances, a legitimate company and do not wish to tarnish their image by associating with the yakuza. If this isn’t a consistent need, something they only need to do once, they may have considered it lower risk.”

“Lower risk to steal a yakuza shipment?”

“Well, considering how easy it was for them to do it…” Izaya replied with mockery in his voice.

“Tch.” Shiki clicked his teeth in irritation. “A mistake that won’t be made again. Send me the information, I’ll meet you there.”

~

Shiki’s car pulled up in front of the research company, a relatively small building sandwiched between a strip of stores and an apartment complex. The front of the building was glass with clean lettering announcing the address and name of the company. It could have been one of a number of small companies like it, not at all terrifying like the looming tower that was Nebula. Izaya was lingering near the door as he watched Shiki and two of his men getting out of the car. 

“Feel free to admire me,” Izaya responded with a smirk as Shiki approached.

“For doing what I pay you very generously to do?” Shiki replied and Izaya huffed.

“Do you want to know what it was that they were hiding in your shipment?”

Shiki arched a brow as they entered the building, the two thugs falling in step behind their boss. “Are you withholding information, Orihara?” 

“You didn’t ask me to find out what they were smuggling.” Izaya’s eyes shone with amusement. 

Shiki gave him an exasperated look. “We will be discussing this later.”

There was a small reception desk behind which sat a tidy-looking woman in a suit. “Good afternoon, do you have an appointment?” She asked politely, a fake smile plastered to her face as her eyes shifted from Shiki to the thugs and back.

Shiki gave her a cool look as he pulled out his card case and handed her his business card. “I would like to speak to Director Takeshi.” He spoke coolly. She took the card, eyes widening as she read it. 

“O-of course, sir,” she stuttered as she reached for the phone. “Takashi-san, Shiki Haruya of the Awakusu-kai is here to see you.” After a moment she hung up and stood, gesturing to the doors behind her. “If you will follow me please, I will show you to his office.”

The director’s office was just as white and sterile as the rest of the building and the man sitting behind the desk was exactly what one might expect the director of a research company to look like. Sharp eyes hidden behind black frames, lab coat over business attire, a desk covered in books and reports. He rose and bowed low to Shiki.

“Shiki-san, my apologies for causing you such an inconvenience.” There was a nervous undertone to his polite words. “We will return your property to you, of course, and the man responsible has already been disciplined for his overreach.”

“Overreach?” Izaya snickered.

“I appreciate your honesty in this, Takeshi-san,” Shiki responded, ignoring Izaya’s insert as he took a seat and gestured for the Director to do the same. “However, I believe the overreach began when you decided to use the yakuza without paying the appropriate costs.”

“My apologies, Shiki-san.” Director Takeshi repeated. “It was… an ill-advised plan based on advice given to me by an untrustworthy sort of person. I am prepared to forward you whatever compensation you require.”

Izaya leaned against the chair Shiki had taken a seat in. “And the very interesting item you used the yakuza to smuggle?”

Director Takeshi’s gaze snapped to Izaya and he frowned. “We need those animals for a study.”

“Yet you couldn’t acquire them legally?”

“The costs and requirements were prohibitive since they’re all rare species and it would have taken far too long…”

“Well, since you used yakuza transport to bring them over, and should any investigations be done, it would lead back to us, that makes them our property.” Shiki gave the man a smirk. “Of course, for a small addition to the cost, we can overlook it.”

Director Takeshi paled then nodded. “O-of course, Shiki-san.”

“We would like to see the animals, to verify them against our own shipment information,” Izaya spoke and Shiki gave him a questioning look.

“Very well…” Director Takeshi agreed hesitantly, standing and leading them to a small lab area with rows of animal cages. Only a few had animals in them and Izaya scanned the cages until he found the one he was looking for. He opened the cage and Director Takeshi moved to protest but one look from Shiki silenced him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Izaya crooned as he picked up a tiny ball of fluff. It let out a pitiful squeak of protest, stretching out its paws to claw at the air. “What kind of horrible scientist would experiment on a baby like you?” He continued, sending a judgemental look toward Takeshi. “I have just the place for you.”

“You can’t take it! It would be an invasive species!” Director Takeshi protested though he made no move to stop Izaya. Shiki eyed Izaya suspiciously as he approached with the kitten.

“He’s a leopard cat,” Izaya informed Shiki, eyes bright. “From the markings, I think he’s from the Indian region.”

“Izaya…” Shiki murmured as he gazed at the spotted ball of fluff. It let out an indignant squeak. “This is why you came instead of just sending me the information.”

Izaya beamed at him smugly. “Admire me now?”

“Takeshi-san, we will waive the additional charges but the leopard cat will be confiscated.” Shiki turned to the Director and the man, looking defeated, gave Shiki another deep bow. “I will draw up the bill and have it delivered tomorrow. Please show my associate to our property.”

Director Takeshi led one of the thugs away to where they had stored the truck and its contents while Izaya and Shiki returned to the car. Izaya placed the kitten on the seat between them with a grin and it immediately clambered over to Shiki climbing onto his lap and stretching it’s paws up to grab onto his suit jacket. “He isn’t even old enough to be on his own,” Izaya spoke critically. “Poor guy was probably stolen from his den.”

“When did you find out about the cat?” Shiki asked as he attempted to disentangle the kitten’s claws from his suit. The kitten immediately switched his attention to attacking Shiki’s hand.

“When I tracked the shipment information back to the source. There were some other rare animals but when I saw this guy on the list, I had to see him for myself. I didn’t expect him to be a kitten though.”

“And you just expected me to foot the bill for your cat crusade?” 

Izaya smirked. “No. I expected to come back later and break him out. It seems I’ve discovered one of your weaknesses, Haruya.” 

Shiki gave him a long look as he scooped up the kitten. “Perhaps I will keep him, then.”

“Ehhh?!” Izaya exclaimed. “Haruya! You can’t steal what I rightfully stole!”

“Of course I can. Technically it was the Awakusu who paid for him.”

“You wouldn’t have known about him without me!” Izaya protested, pouting.

“What are you willing to pay for your little furball?” Shiki gave Izaya a sadistic smile.

“Haruya!” Izaya complained and the kitten squawked in protest, attempting to chew on one of Shiki’s fingers. “That’s just unfair to the kitten. You’d never be around to take care of him.”

Shiki chuckled. “What should I name him?”

Izaya pouted. “He’ll eat your fish.”

“If he manages to find a way into a sealed tank, I’ll be impressed. Especially considering his current size. Maybe I’ll call him Fujin.”

Izaya’s eyes lit up at the reference. “Oh, that’s perfect. Little demon god.”

Shiki dropped the newly named kitten into Izaya’s lap, giving him a slight smile. “Such a troublesome cat.”

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which it keeps happening

Dave: Go online and view sites indicative of your interests.

Oh this should be good.

Oh no more content related to Gamebro and their unholy ilk.

“Grand Snack Fuckyeah”...GTA....I love that it’s not even trying to make a clever pun. You know those “there was an attempt” stickers? This isn’t even an attempt.

Also is that review written by Dave? I want to learn how to write like Dave. That Moses comparison gave me life and took it away at the same time.

“Will popular beverages play a role? And how critical will they be in your quest to attain absolute sweetness?” I HATE that Death Stranding has made that actually not a joke. Just....God fucking dammit. DS is great by the way. ....I just realized Dave Strider and Death Stranding share the same innitials when I typed that. Why does it all fit? This is a weird ass tangent.

Seems every kid has their own browser after all.

You open the HEPHAESTUS web browser and direct it to your ironically maintained blog where you post monthly satirical reviews of GAMEBRO MAGAZINE. Your latest post is a review of the MARCH ISSUE. You've been meaning to write a review for the latest issue too, but you've been sort of dogging it. Something about the game they're reviewing just doesn't strike you as ripe for satirical purposes.

Don’t be a coward Dave! A true artist doesn’t blame his tools! You can make the greatest shitpost ever, I believe in you.

Excuse me what in the fuck

In a new tab you open another one of your sites, a webcomic ironically maintained through a satirical cipher vaguely similar to that of your blog. It's called SWEET BRO AND HELLA JEFF. You have legions of devoted fans, most of whom are totally convinced of your creative persona's sincerity. Which is just how you like it.

...

Is that a real site?

Oh god it’s real

Oh god what the fuck is this

This....This actually takes effort to do. Like, the fucking title is a low res looking JPEG piece of fucking shit, but it’s a finely curated piece of fucking shit.

I just touched one of the buttons and it changed page.

it changed page.

there are more pages.

what

is this another comic entirely??

What...What do I do with this??

Do I liveblog it?? IS this still homestuck?? What is going on????

Okay I asked what the fuck this was, and all you guys answered me with was cryptic warnings and hushed expectations for my suffering and/or ascension. Like this was some sort of cursed chthonian text that would kill my sense of sanity.

Seems about right.

I don’t know why it posted two times I think I might have clicked it twice.

I’m not fixing my mistake cause I think it goes perfectly well with the spirit of the work.

Speaking of the work.

Nani the fuck

So one of these two duders is going to play some games of the video....and he encounter stairs....and he falls down said escaleras.....over and over again....in an endlessly recurring loop........while the other guy just fucking LMAOs at him saying “I told you about the fucking stairs, dumbfuck!” and he keeps falling...and falling...and falling...

Also I have heard “It keeps happening” before as an internet phrase. I’ve used it before What the fuck, it came from here?? From this.... thing??

This....

This is so perfectly and intentionally shitty, the whole comic is way too far to the left even. There’s a huge empty space on the right side.

Is the font fucking comic sans??

OH MY GOD THERE ARE 46 OF THESE.

You know those things that make you go “there isn’t a god”??

THIS IS NOT ONE OF THEM.

This is proof for the existence of a god.

A talented and artful god

who fucking hates you

I’m gonna move on with the actual comic and you guys tell me if I should continue with this thing and when.

I’ll just leave you with this

Dave: Check the latest page of the Midnight Crew.

OH EXCUSE ME FUCKING WHAT

OH WELL SURE LET’S FUCKING GO LET’S JUST OPEN MSPAINTADVENTURES INSIDE THE COMIC ITSELF

IS THE MIDNIGHT CREW THE IN-UNIVERSE VERSION OF THE PROBLEM SLEUTH CAST?? IS THIS WHAT PS IS INSIDE THE COMIC??

You figure as long as you're chilling at your computer you might as well see how that new MSPA story is going. You haven't looked at it in a while.

How meta can we go in this comic?

We’re already way to fucking deep and I don’t know how to swim.

Let’s go back to the shallow end of the pool please.

Midnight Crew.

Oh so we’re actually doing this. Oh.

What is this liveblog session?

Why is there a sword stabbing that map?

"You are members of a sinister gang called the Midnight Crew. Your nefarious plots are serpentine in complexity. Your schemes, convoluted. You are planning a heist in your underground hideout. What will you do?"

I just checked and this is a pararell to “Compensation, adequate” oh my god

It really is Parallel Problem Sleuth

Use Occam's Razor on plans and schemes.

OH MY GOD AN ACTUAL INVENTORY

BUT IT’S REVERSED.

THERE ARE 5 WEAPONS AND ONE ITEM THIS TIME

AND THE WEAPONS ARE ALL HAND-TO-HAND INSTEAD OF GUNS.

Also Occam’s Razor is fucking brilliant name for a Scalpel/Knife.

The right solution to a problem is usually the simplest one.

"Spades Slick uses OCCAM'S RAZOR to carve a circular hole into the HEIST PLANS, freeing it from the knife. You wonder what moron would jam the knife so hard into the table in the first place."

Probably one of you.

Probably all of you.

I know how everyone in these comics is.

SS: Climb ladder and exit hideout. Implement nefarious plots

Oh my god no

They are stuck in their hideouts aren’t they?

I can just feel his anger at this unbelievable bullshit

"You push against the MANHOLE COVER, but it seems some unbelievable jackass has parked your GETAWAY VAN on top of it. A familiar feeling stirs. That feeling is overwhelming, soul-blackening rage. It's the sort of rage that'll make a man feel totally justified in sporting an unnecessarily elaborate assortment of fancy blades."

Spades Slick seems like a hair away from murdering everyone else in that room. And somehow he’s the most relatable one in there.

Dave: Skip ahead a hundred pages or so.

Wait, that’s illegal

What is going on.

Why is everyone beating the shit out of each other?

Why is there a blender in there?

What is that antler thing and why is it coming out from a door?

Who is that guy on that picture?

You don't remember where you last left off, so you jump way ahead. You always forget to save your place in the story. It looks like tempers have become short in this pressure cooker already. You speculate that the tipping point may have been an ill-advised motion for a game of 52 PICKUP.

Jumping ahead in these comics looks like a fine way to get really confused.

Dave: Save your place, read it later.

Hey now that’s familiar

Even though the adventure began recently, it's already over 3000 pages long. You just don't have time for this bullshit. You'll catch up later. Besides, it looks like someone's pestering you. You're pretty sure you know who it is.

How long is homestuck by the way? I know it’s ungodly long but I just want to know the full extent of my road ahead on this foolish endeavor.

Also imma leave it here for today as I try to figure out what the fuck this was

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[psychodollyuniverse]

The Long Blondes

The Long Blondes were a five-piece English indie rock band formed in Sheffield, United Kingdom in 2003 by Dorian Cox (lead guitar and keyboards), Reenie Hollis (real name Kathryn Hollis) (bass guitar and backing vocals), Emma Chaplin (rhythm guitar, keyboards and backing vocals), Kate Jackson (lead vocals) and Screech Louder (real name Mark Turvey, drums).

After several critically acclaimed singles, they released their debut album, Someone to Drive You Home, on Rough Trade Records in November 2006. Their second album, Couples, was produced by Erol Alkan and released in April 2008. On 20 October 2008, due to the unexpected illness of their primary songwriter and lead guitarist, Dorian Cox, the band announced their amicable split via a message on their website, the same day their singles compilation, "Singles" was released.

The band was formed in 2003 in Sheffield, United Kingdom. All the members were attending, or had attended university in the city.The following quote appeared on their website and served as an introduction to the Long Blondes; "Our shared influences include The Mael Brothers, Marx Brothers and The Bewlay Brothers. We do not listen to The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, The Doors or Bob Dylan. We chose an instrument each and learnt to play it.".The band have stated that the original inspiration for The Long Blondes was to form a fantasy pop group: "Nico, Nancy Sinatra, Diana Dors and Barbara Windsor. Sexy and literate, flippant and heartbreaking all at once." Singer Kate Jackson was inspired by bands with front women like Siouxsie and the Banshees and Blondie.

In July 2004, The Long Blondes released their debut single "New Idols" on the local Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation label. This was followed by singles "Autonomy Boy" and "Giddy Stratospheres", on Angular. In 2005, they released further singles, "Appropriation (By Any Other Name)" and "Separated By Motorways", the latter being produced by Paul Epworth and released on his own Good & Evil label. These releases were met with a positive critical reaction and growing media attention

Still unsigned, in February 2006 the band were recipients of the NME Philip Hall Radar Award, which in previous years was won by Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Further adding to their reputation, the band were named by The Guardian and Vogue as "the best unsigned band in the UK". As they were unsigned, during the early success of the band, members remained working in various day jobs; Jackson sold vintage clothing on eBay, Cox was working in the University of Sheffield Department of Law, Hollis in the Media Studies department of a nearby college, Chaplin in a Leeds art library and Louder in the Home Office.

On 13 April 2006 they signed to Rough Trade Recordsand began recording their debut album over the summer with Steve Mackey, the bassist with Pulp. The album was preceded by the singles "Weekend Without Makeup" in July and "Once and Never Again", which was released on 23 October and debuted at number 30 in the UK Singles Chart.The song was named the 15th best track of 2006 by NME. Someone to Drive You Home was released in November 2006. The music was written by the band collectively while the majority of the lyrics were written by Cox with Jackson completing the lyrics for "Separated by Motorways" and "Madame Ray". Critical reception was generally positive with the NME calling it "fantasy pop, performed to perfection" in a 9/10 review.Reviews picked up on the predominant themes of the album; outsider status, popular culture references from the 1950s and 60s and relationships from a female perspective. Other reviews indicated the numerous inspirations for the work. For example, a four-star review in The Guardian said that "if talent borrows but genius steals ... the Long Blondes should be taking their Mensa tests", comparing the album's style to Franz Ferdinand and 80s indie-pop band The Flatmates.Some noted the impact of Jackson's voice; Colin Roberts of Drowned In Sound said "her delivery is like a public address call across a Sunday marketplace” while The Guardian said it was "marvellously belting, if unsubtle".A 3-star review in Uncut magazine recognised the ambition of the band's sound, advising that they should acquire "a ruthless pop producer, one who can coax them out of their indie-pop dowdiness – like Blondie needed Mike Chapman, like ABC needed Horn.They appeared at a number of UK festivals over the summer of 2006, including the Carling Weekend. In 2007, they played on the Other Stage at the Glastonbury Festival.

After an extended European tour, in October 2007 The Long Blondes began work on their second album with producer Erol Alkan, who had previously produced their more dance orientated b-sides such as "Five Ways To End It" and "Fulwood Babylon". On 19 December 2007, it was announced that the new album's title would be "Couples". The title alludes to the David Bowie album "Heroes" and also to a loose theme of the album as a "big breakup album". Before the album was released, all five members created their own cryptic promo videos explaining the inspiration behind "Couples".The band stated that the album drew influences from Italo disco revival acts such as Glass Candy and the Italians Do It Better label.and ABBA. Cox stated that "...there's something really innocent about Abba videos... really kinda funny, futuristic but old fashioned at the same time and that's how we see our music on this album.".

"Couples" was released on 7 April 2008, preceded by a single, "Century", released on 24 March 2008. The album reached number 48 in the UK album chart. The album was generally well received by critics. Click Music gave the album a 4.5 out of 5 and said it was "a worthy contender for record of the year".[24] The Guardian gave the album another 4-star review, noting the album's shift in style – saying that some tracks shared "more with the cinematic perfection of Kylie Minogue's "Confide in Me" than the kitchen sink dramas of Pulp". A mixed 6/10 review in NME said the album was "not terrible, but disappointing" and "whereas once they sang of suburban boredom tempered with the thrill of escape, now they’ve started to sound like they’d be happy to stay put".After "Century", the next song to be taken off the album was "Guilt", which was released on 7" and digital download.

On 9 June 2008, the band posted on their official website that Cox had fallen ill and that he had to be rushed to hospital, which meant that they had to cancel all their live appearances until the end of July.The band were due to play a support slot on Duran Duran's Red Carpet Massacre tour at the Birmingham NIA and the O2 Arena in London and on the John Peel stage at Glastonbury.

After "Couples", the band decided to release a compilation of their rare early 7" singles, which was titled "Singles" on 20 October 2008 on Angular Records.The twelve track album collected all of the songs from the band's first singles. The version of "Separated By Motorways" differs from the single version produced by Paul Epworth, instead the group opted to include the demo version instead. The compilation also featured one previously unreleased song – "Peterborough". "Singles" was named the 25th best album of 2008 by Artrocker magazine

On 20 October 2008, Guitarist Dorian Cox posted a message on their official website that the band had split up. The main motivation for the break-up was Cox's stroke in June 2008, which resulted in a swath of cancelled gigs.Cox thanked fans for their support and goodwill. "We have decided to call it a day," he wrote. "The main reason for this is that I suffered from a stroke in June and unfortunately I do not know when/if I will be well enough to play the guitar again. On behalf of the band I'd like to say a big thank you to anyone who ever came to one of our shows, bought one of our records or danced to one of our songs in a club." The announcement was made the same day their compilation "Singles" was released, with the inside of the rear album art also containing news of the break-up. Upon their split, The Guardian wrote an article entitled "Why music will miss the Long Blondes".

It was reported on 1 December 2008 that Cox was undergoing physiotherapy for his paralysis and is still hoping to get back to playing guitar.

Jackson has been working on her debut solo album with producer and ex-Suede guitarist Bernard Butler. She will be working under the name Madame Ray (after the song on Someone To Drive You Home). Jackson has said that the sound of the album first tended towards country rock but has now become a "big pop record". She released the album 'British Road Movies' in early 2016.

Dorian Cox's new band is called Unmade Bed and have made a number of songs available on-line.

Hollis continues to play in The Bon Bon Club, a band she formed with Louder.Their debut single features three cover versions—"Lullaby" by The Cure, "Love Is Blind" by Pulp and "Romantic Rights" by Death From Above 1979. It was released through Thee Sheffield Phonographic Corporation on 23 June 2008. The 7" single was limited to 500 copies.

Hollis also plays with Nature Set and their first single 7" has been published by Elefant Records in 2011.

The Long Blondes' songs reflect a number of influences, including 60s pop, Buzzcocks, The Fall, The Ramones, Suede,post-punk and new wave. Jackson's vocals have been compared to Ari Up of The Slits, Deborah Harry of Blondie and Lesley Woods of Au Pairs[citation needed]. Dorian Cox's backing vocals are also similar to those of former Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker. The music features angular guitars and prominent bass guitar lines. However, the band themselves claim somewhat more eclectic influences than their sound suggests, citing Burt Bacharach, Holland-Dozier-Holland, Chinn and Chapman, and Stock, Aitken and Waterman as influences. The band named some of their actual influences and favourite bands. Chaplin's were The Smiths, Sweet and The Jesus and Mary Chain. Hollis's were Belle and Sebastian, ELO and The Eagles. Cox's were ABBA and The Fall. Louder's were Scott Walker, The Slits and Captain Beaky. Jackson's were The Smiths, The Fall and Nancy Sinatra and Lee Hazlewood. Screech Louder cited Siouxsie and the Banshees, a group they were likened by the critics.Louder said about them: "[Siouxsie and the Banshees] made much more interesting records than any of the instant hits could manage, and they didn’t run out of ideas after the first few singles. Like Pulp, they’re testament to the power of waiting".

The Long Blondes are known for referencing films, singers, starlets and artists in their music. Screech Louder said that Alfred Hitchcock was a big inspiration when it came to referencing films in their music, he said "the whole film noir thing is very important because it's stylish but there's depth to it as well".

Lyrics

"Appropriation (By Any Other Name)" is a homage to Hitchcock's 1958 film Vertigo. It has been said[by whom?] that the song is told from Judy's perspective, due to lines such as "When I met you, I never wore dresses like that" & "You can't have me, make me act the same". Lead singer Kate Jackson painted two different portraits for the CD single and 7" Vinyl, they both depicted Kim Novak's characters Madeleine Elster and Judy Barton.[41]

"Darts" mentions British darts player Bobby George and darts commentator Sid Waddell.

"Erin O'Connor" is a homage to Erin O'Connor which also mentions fellow model, Lily Cole. It begins with a line by Ronnie Corbett and David Swift from the BBC play No Sex Please, We're British.

"Five Ways To End It" mentions Carry On star Hattie Jacques and also the producer of the Carry On films, Peter Rogers.

"I Liked The Boys" ends with "Not the most original sentiment I've ever heard, so what's new" which is a line from a radio show by Terry Wogan.[22] Whilst recording the second album, they found an old reel-to-reel radio recording and decided to use parts in some of their songs

"I'm Going To Hell" ends with a line by Peter Sellers.

"Long Blonde" mentions punk band Ramones, one of their influences.

"Lust in the Movies" mentions underground actresses such as 60's socialite and muse, Edie Sedgwick, American actress Arlene Dahl & French actress Anna Karina. Also the repeated line "Nag nag nag" is a reference to the same repeated lyric in the song "Nag Nag Nag" by Sheffield band Cabaret Voltaire.

"Madame Ray" is inspired by Lee Miller, the photographer and muse of avent-garde artist Man Ray.

"Melville Farr" is based on Dirk Bogarde's character in the 1961 British film Victim.

"Never To Be Repeated" references film-star Greta Garbo.

"Only Lovers Left Alive" takes its title from the 1964 science fiction novel by Dave Wallis, and includes the title of 1950s film From Here To Eternity as a lyric.

"Round The Hairpin" begins with a line by British comedian Kenny Everett.

"Swallow Tattoo" has a lyric ("you fill me with inertia") which is a reference to the parody pop band fronted by Peter Cook in Bedazzled.

"You Could Have Both" namechecks American singer Scott Walker. The song also alludes to the Morrissey song "My Love Life".The song also mentions the character of C.C. 'Bud' Baxter from The Apartment

Artwork

Before "Couples" was released, all five members created their own cryptic promo videos "explaining" what the inspiration behind "Couples" was. Jackson explained who inspired the album cover, she found artist Richard Hamilton, videos by ABBA, Lee Miller and Le Corbusier to be the main inspiration.

The two front covers of "Weekend Without Makeup" are paintings of Diana Dors.

The front cover of their debut album Someone To Drive You Home is a painting by Kate Jackson of Faye Dunaway in the film Bonnie and Clyde, with a Mark 3 Ford Cortina as her getaway car.The artwork inside the album sleeve is a painting of Nicolas Cage & Laura Dern in the film Wild At Heart.

The front cover of "New Idols" is a painting of Diana Dors in Yield to the Night.

from their Wikipedia page

Why music will miss the Long Blondes from The Guradian Uk October 21st 2008.

It's hard to sum up just how exciting the Long Blondes were when they started out. I first heard them after they'd released a few singles and they were still without a record deal. Amongst my friends, urging them on to bigger and better things was a cause we felt passionately about. And it wasn't long before the NME had called them the Best Unsigned Band in Britain.Matching the media hype was the fact that those early singles - Giddy Stratospheres, Autonomy Boy, Once and Never Again and Lust in the Movies - were stunning. Unlike anyone else, they seemed to be addressing exactly what suburban teenagers were going through: self harm, bitchy jealousy, social climbing, pretending you were a much cooler film star than the sad sack you actually were. For those of us who couldn't relate to guitar songs that sounded like football chants, these were a revelation. It helped that they looked like a proper pop group. A bunch of ex-librarian mis-shapes and misfits dressed in thrift shop chic straight out of a Pulp song, it was impossible to take your eyes off front-woman Kate Jackson. In the miasma of boys with guitars they were the only band who were mining a wealth of influences often overlooked by the keepers of rock music's "canon" - Blondie, the Ronettes, the Human League, Pulp, John Cooper Clarke and the B-52s - to name just a few. They were often criticised for not being able to play "properly". These people, I thought, were missing the point – in the grand tradition of their heroes the Long Blondes were anti-technique.In fact, their heroic statement of intent on their website read: "We do not listen to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, the Doors or Bob Dylan. We chose an instrument each and learnt to play it."None of them were really proper musicians. And unlike all of those perfectly coiffured indie bands who became their peers, they were clearly just a group of friends who wanted to form a band for the fun of it.Also, in an age where most other indie bands' default option was "dumbing down", the Long Blondes weren't afraid to flaunt their high falutin' literary and pop culture influences. Like their beloved Roxy Music, high culture met low culture in their aesthetic. Billy Wilder, Arlene Dahl and Kenny Everett were all lyrical inspirations while their sleeves referenced Bonnie and Clyde, Poor Cow and 50s pulp fiction novels.They produced two great albums (Someone To Drive You Home and Couples), and a pretty weighty stack of classy singles and b-sides (Ten Reasons To End It , Christmas Is Cancelled and Long Blonde to name a few). These, along with their sense of fearlessness (in their music, attitude and look), will be their legacy.

[jacklyn-flynn]

Read it here or below: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520098/chapters/55176793

When Jules came to consciousness, the immediate feeling of alarm was calmed by two very familiar sounds. The hum of the Herald and the purr of Jasoom. As her senses returned, she felt the soothing weight of the cat on her chest. It always had a way of quelling her anxiety. She opened her eyes slowly and focused on him. His topaz blue eyes stared back at her. 

He let out a small ‘mrrpp’ noise and stretched his neck to rub his jaw against her chin. This was a routine that had been familiar in her childhood. He’d been there when she woke after every surgery, every test, every illness. Calming weight. Blue eyes. Trill. Chin rub. 

She raised her hand to pet him and surprised herself. She lifted her hand a little higher and frowned when she saw the green mark on her palm. While it certainly was out of place, it was made more so by the fact that it didn’t look organic. It wasn’t an odd growth or a festering wound. The energy roiled and shifted, more at home in a newly born nebula rather than a human hand. But then, very little about her could be considered normal by humanoid standards. 

Jules still didn’t like the idea of petting Jasoom with that hand, though the mark didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, she raised her right hand and scratched gently behind his ears. His purr immediately deepened and she could feel his front paws begin to kneed at her shirt. 

She tried to focus on the room then to determine where she was. She could instinctively tell she was on the Herald. Whoever had left her in the room was kind enough to leave the lights on low. Enough for her to get up and walk around, but not enough to blind her upon waking. 

Slowly, the room started to look familiar. Personal quarters, but quite large. Not for the average crew member since there was only one bed. A window at her head showed the vast nothingness of space. 

No. Maker, please. 

Jules sat up slowly and Jasoom jumped onto the floor, padding to the door. She knew this room. She also knew that she shouldn’t be here. She didn’t want to be here. Not this room.

Throwing off the blankets, she slipped off the bed and immediately went for the door. She didn’t even register her current state of dress. The door opened for her and she headed into the corridor, Jasoom padding silently beside her. 

As she moved to the back of the ship, she passed half a dozen doors to crew quarters far smaller than the one she’d just left. Large bulkhead doors blocked her path from living quarters to engine maintenance. They were one of the few doors that didn’t open for her automatically. 

She pressed her palm to the panel by the door. Jasoom slipped through the doors as they parted in the middle and moved to the edge of the darker corridor. His body lowered slightly as if he was stalking prey. As she walked along the hallway, panels of lights above her brightened her path. The cat stayed ahead of the brightening lights and disappeared around the turn of the corridor as it widened. 

To her left and right were giant bulkhead doors with large, heavy block letters. She turned to her right and the massive door labeled “PORT ENGINE 4” rumbled as it started to slide open.

The engine compartment spanned the height of the deck she was on and half of the next one. She moved to the far side of the compartment. A small bunk, normally pushed against the wall, was overturned and resting on its side. She righted it and made the bed with perfect, crisp corners. When she set the pillow at the head of the bed, Jasoom jumped onto the cot, walked up and curled into the center of it. 

She sat down on the bed beside him and finally took stock of her situation. She was in a white short sleeve shirt and shorts, soft cotton and clearly from the medical lab. She didn’t know what had happened to her blood-stained jumpsuit but she was glad it was gone. She assumed she had been unconscious for a while as she seemed to have recently been bathed. She was far cleaner than she had been when she woke in the Chantry prison and her hair was brushed and tended. 

Examining her arms and legs she found multiple bruises, but no healing wounds. She touched her face and drew her hand back with a hiss of pain. Gingerly, she touched her left cheek. It was covered in gauze so she couldn’t determine the extent or manner of injury but the cotton pad was quite large. 

With growing alarm, she opened a cabinet beside the head of the bed and pulled out a small mirror. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw her own face. Her left eye was circled with black and yellow bruises. Several days healed, but still startling. 

The bandage covered an alarming portion of her cheek. She peeled back the tape that secured the edge under her eye and gingerly pulled off the bandage. She winced at the sight of the wound. A jagged gash started just under the outside corner of her eye. It cut into the thick flesh of the apple of her cheek and ended just beside the bottom of her nose.

She sighed softly. Certainly not the worst of her scars, but absolutely the most noticeable. Now it would be a toss-up if someone noticed her mismatched eyes first or this new scar. 

Jules carefully put the bandage back on, wondering idly how she’d gotten it. She didn’t remember being injured during the fight but then again, those memories were fuzzy. It was probably what saved her from reliving the fear and anxiety of it. She had questions about the battle but was used to not getting answers.

Resigned, she replaced the mirror and opened the cabinet below it. She pulled out a clean jumpsuit and pulled it on. Unless she could locate the boots she’d been wearing to the Temple, she only had one pair left. Unfortunately, they weren’t her good ones. They were old and worn, the right steel toe dented slightly. They would do for now, however. 

A harder loss were the tools that had been in her jumpsuit. They were the ones she used most often, many of them modified to fit her needs. Maker only knew where her toolboxes were. She guessed the shockwave from the Breach was why her bed was in disarray. The engine compartments were massive and the grated floors and catwalks only allowed access to vital parts of it. She would have to climb into the harder to reach spots to make sure nothing had fallen that would cause problems later. 

One of the benefits of her tall but slim build was that she could get to those hard to reach spots with relative ease. Years of maneuvering through the well-known compartments had made her limber and flexible. Although they weren’t designed for human passage, she could get through the small, open joints between the upper and lower engine compartments. 

Being able to do so had saved her ass once already. She’d been able to get to the lower compartment without having to run to a stairwell and go down two levels. The third engine’s auxiliary turbine had almost overheated. It wouldn’t have stopped the Herald dead in her tracks but it would have been over a week’s worth of repairs and far longer than that living under the displeasure of First Commander Hayden.. 

She left Jasoom asleep on her bed and headed back out to the lower level corridor. Just before the bulkheads to the living spaces were doors on either side. Each massive room contained parts and tools for the corresponding engine. She opened the door to the fourth engine compartment and found an old, empty toolbox to gather what she would need. 

Jules made a list in her head. Confirm the blast wave hadn’t knocked any of the engines out of alignment. Gather any unsecured debris from the four compartments. Find out what happened to her tools and boots. 

So far she wasn’t concerned about any of the other main systems of the ship. Hull, gravity, life support. She could tell immediately there were no issues there. She would have felt it. There was just a vague discomfort in her chest that suggested an issue with the engines. 

As she was gathering the last of her tools, a voice invaded her thoughts. 

“Jules? Where are you?” The Seeker, Cassandra. Naturally, the words themselves were not foreign to her, but the tone gave her pause. Concern. Was she concerned Jules wasn’t doing her job? It wasn’t something she could fault the woman for since she didn’t know Jules.

“Parts storage for engine four.” She replied. “It shouldn’t take me more than a few hours to determine what’s wrong and recalibrate.” She replied matter-of-factly. 

“You shouldn’t even be out of bed!” Cassandra said, surprised. “We’ve already had someone check the engines and determine there is nothing critical at this time. You should be recovering.” 

The Seeker was concerned for her? “I’m well enough to work,” Jules assured her. 

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.” The woman countered. “If you insist on being up and about we would like to speak to you. If you would return to bed, we can meet you there.” 

“No.” She said quickly, surprising even herself. “That’s not my room. I can meet you where you are.” 

“If you insist. We’re in the-” Cassandra started. “Well, I’m not sure what this room is called. We’ve been calling it the War Room.” 

“It’s technically Logistics and Planning, but that’s much shorter,” Jules said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She advised. She didn’t expect to be there long. She would most likely get her new orders and then be on her way. 

She certainly wasn’t prepared for what she walked in on. 

“Arrest her!” A man, that she didn’t even recognize, thrust his finger in her direction the moment she walked through the door. His formal cream and maroon robes adorned in gold heraldry weren’t quite like the Chantry uniforms she remembered, but they were close enough for her to recognize. A Chancellor. A man who held power. The Chantry and the government of the system of Ferelden were nearly indistinguishable from each other. This man represented the people who made her. Owned her. 

She drew back in surprise at the venom in his voice. She glanced behind her to the guard by the door. 

“Belay that!” Cullen snapped when the man took a hesitant step forward. He immediately, and seemingly gratefully, returned to his post. 

“If you truly think that she is not involved in this disaster, you are blind! She needs to be arrested and interrogated. By professionals.” The Chancellor glared at the others collected in the room. 

“She risked her life to attempt to close the Breach.” Leliana pointed out calmly. Her eyes held fire though, contradicting her even tone. 

“And yet the Breach is not closed and she is not dead.” He pointed out. “She may have even intended things to turn out as they have!” 

“She may have made her crew and ship disappear for nearly a century, single-handedly destroyed the Chantry, Templar and Mage leadership and made herself the only key to fixing it?” Cullen asked, incredulous. 

“So you agree that it’s a suspicious coincidence?” The man asked. Cullen threw up his hands in defeat. 

“It is not a coincidence.” Cassandra cut in. “It is providence. The Maker sent her to us in our hour of need.”

“Coincidence, providence, it isn’t yours to decide.” The man said, spittle flying from his mouth. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.” 

“My duty is to serve the principles upon which the Chantry was built. My duty is to the Divine. I heard, with my own ears, the Most Holy call out to this woman.” Cassandra looked up at Jules. “I must admit, my heart grew angry knowing that this woman survived where the Divine did not, but I truly believe that she is not behind this. She has done nothing but assist when she could have run.”

“The Breach is not our only concern.” Leliana pointed out. “We must determine who was behind the explosion at Conclave. Without leaders, the factions at war will devolve further into chaos. We must assume that the mastermind is still at large. Perhaps they are closer than we think.” She said, pointedly looking at the man.

“You consider me a suspect?” The Chancellor’s cheeks turned a blotchy red. “But not her?” He asked, thrusting his finger at Jules again. 

“Had she not risked herself in disrupting the rift, which may not have worked” Cullen pointed out. “The demon would certainly have destroyed us all.” His amber eyes turned to her. “The Breach remains, as does your mark. We won’t force you to aid us, however, you are our only hope of closing it.” 

“It is not yours to decide!” The Chancellor exploded, repeating his senior favorite phrase and making Jules winced even though she was on the other side of the room. “I demand that the Herald be returned to the Chantry and the Ferelden government. Immediately.”

“No.” Cassandra shot back hotly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“If those are my orders, I have to go,” Jules spoke up softly. “I belong to them.” 

Cullen’s fist slammed onto the table, drawing all eyes back to him. “You are not-” He took a quick breath to calm himself and looked up at her again. “You are not a piece of property. You are a person with-” He gestured all around him. “-the most amazing prosthetic in the entire galaxy of Thedas. Possibly the universe! It isn’t that we aren’t handing you over because you’re useful to us.” His tone had softened, losing all of the fire but none of the passion. He regarded her as if she was the only one in the room.

“It’s because you aren’t ours to give. You aren't anyone's to give.” Impossibly, her heart skipped a beat. His eyes were-she wasn’t sure. She’d never seen that look before. Cullen’s brows were furrowed slightly. It was as if he was willing her to believe it.

“Then I want to stay. I want to help.” She said, surprising herself. The words just fell from her lips. She did believe him. The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly and he nodded. 

The man opened his mouth to speak, his cheeks growing ever more splotched. Before he could start a fresh tirade, Leliana raised a hand sharply. Amazingly, he closed his mouth again. “The official and documented stance on the Herald is that she has been lost and that Jules Trevelyan is dead.” She pointed out. 

Cassandra demanded everyone’s attention when she slammed a huge tome on the table. Contrary to her previous action, she laid her hand on the book reverently. “This,” She looked up pointedly at the Chancellor. “Is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act.” 

She stood upright, hands clasped behind her in full military bearing. “I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She walked toward the man. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, we will restore order.” Her voice, and accent, were growing stronger with each declaration. The Chancellor, seemingly without realizing it, was backing toward the door. 

‘With or without your approval.” The Seeker only had one or two inches on the man, but she had a way of making it feel like much more. Jules shuffled to the side quickly when the Chancellor let out a frustrated huff and tried to storm out of the room. 

It didn’t open automatically, as he’d assumed. He slammed his hand on the pad beside the door with such force Jules brows raised in surprise. Instead of opening, the panel flashed brightly and let out a dull, denying thud sound. 

Jules cleared her throat and pushed her bangs behind her ear. She didn't much care for the abuse he was doling out on the panel but it would hold. Some deep part of her was enjoying his frustration.

“Why won’t this open?” The Chancellor shouted in fury, hitting the panel over and over. It strobed with warning flashes and continued to thump at him. 

“Funny,” Leliana commented. “It’s like she doesn’t like you.”

Jules shot the woman the barest of smiles. 

With a disgusted noise, Cassandra batted his hand away and pressed the panel, gently. The door slid open, allowing him access back onto the main floor of Control. Cassandra looked at the guard who’d previously been ordered to arrest Jules. “Make sure he leaves the ship with no further...hysterics.” Her lips turned up in a sneer. 

Cullen pulled back a chair from the table and sat down hard with a huff. “We have no leader. No numbers. Now no Chantry support.” He looked up at the women surrounding him. 

“What are we, exactly? What’s the Inquisition?” Jules asked curiously. 

Cassandra turned toward her. "The first Inquisition predates the Chantry. It was formed after the first Blight to bring order to the chaos that it wrought. They later became the Templar order.” 

“Who have now lost their way,” Cullen commented, running a hand through his hair. 

“We can’t wait for the selection of a new Divine.” Leliana advised. “With the Templars at war with the mages, any help that we can expect from either is likely limited to one side and minimal at best.”  

Cassandra regarded her evenly. “You said you wanted to help, but we won’t hold you to that. If you stay, it will not be an easy road.”

“You need me, don’t you?” She looked down at her glowing hand. “Do I even have a choice?” 

“Of course you have a choice,” Cassandra said. Jules looked back up at her. Help, or run and let untold numbers of people die. Not much of a choice for any decent person.

“I’ll stay.” She decided. 

“We were hoping you would.” Leliana said with a friendly smile. Very different from the woman she’d met when she first woke up in the Chantry prison. She liked this one more. “If you would be amenable, we would like to use the Herald as our flagship. With you as her head.” 

“Oh no,” Jules said quickly, holding up her hands. “I can’t do that. That’s not my place. I don’t know the first thing about leading a crew. I’m happy to take care of her, but someone else will have to lead the people that live on her.” 

“Commander Cullen and I can split those duties.” Cassandra offered. 

Jules let out a relieved sigh and nodded. She walked over to the table and touched it. A screen lit up and she navigated to the personnel list. “Here’s the usual compliment. She runs well with these positions.” 

“Only a complement of 10 for military staff?” Cullen asked, surprised. 

Jules nodded. “The Herald is-” She paused for a moment. “Was, a special operations ship. There was only a knight-commander, knight-captain and 8 templars but they were all highly trained. The medical staff as well. We often offered medical aid to the larger forces we went to support. “Meatball surgery” they called it. Get them stable enough to be transferred to bigger facilities. Essentially, we went on all of the missions that didn’t exist and we were never officially there.”

“I have a contact with a Ben Hassrath Qunari who leads a group of mercenaries. Perhaps they could fill that need for us.” Leliana suggested. 

“You don’t think he would report back to his superiors about our operations?” Cullen asked. 

“He absolutely would.” Leliana said simply. “But that would be true of any outside assistance. Besides, I am confident that I can both guide the information he sends back and that he would not compromise our efforts. He is a spy, but he is also a good man. I will reach out to see if he would be willing to meet.”

“If I’m no longer needed, engine three is out of alignment.” Jules said, taking a step toward the door. 

“There is actually one more thing.” Leliana said, moving to stand in front of her. “When we found out who you were, I took the liberty of reaching out to the Trevelyan family on Ostwick in the Free Marches system. It is still the seat of the family. There is currently only one living Trevelyan, other than yourself.”

“Are you hoping they’ll help?” Jules asked, clearly misunderstanding Leliana’s reasoning. 

“It certainly couldn’t help to ask, but that is not why I reached out. I thought you might like the support of your family. Even just to know that you have some who still live. His name is Morgan and he would very much like to meet you.” She smiled gently. “Apparently you are somewhat of a family legend.”

Jules didn’t know what to say. She’d never considered that she would have living family, much less that they would want to meet her. “Morgan was my brother’s name.” She said quietly. It just popped out of her mouth. “I, uh, I just remembered that.” She admitted. “I wonder if he looks like my brother.” 

“Do you need assistance with the engine? Once it’s repaired we can leave for the Free Marches. It should only take a few days.” Cullen told her. 

“While you’re working on that, I will gather a full crew complement.” Cassandra informed her. 

“You should be able to add the crew to the system.” Jules said, slightly distracted as she mulled over the news. “I can show you how.” She looked up at Cullen. “I can manage the engine. It will only take me an hour or so.” She nodded and turned to walk away. 

“Jules.” Cullen’s voice made her turn back. “Thank you.” He said, genuinely. Cassandra and Leliana nodded in agreement. 

She nodded and left the war room. 

-----

Jules kept busy with her duties during the two day trip. She was still trying to determine how she felt about meeting Morgan. She went back and forth from excited to terrified. She was most worried that while he said he wanted to meet her, he would be disappointed when he did. The closer they got to Ostwick, the more anxiety she felt roiling in her stomach. 

Leliana had provided information on the Trevelyans since she had been “acquired”. She must have read it half a dozen times. Morgan was her brother’s great-great-grandson. She saw very little familial resemblance in the picture that she had. The only thing that they very clearly shared was eye color. 

He was trained as a warrior with two handed weapons, preferring strength over speed. It was listed in his military record that his unit had nicknamed him “One Hit Wonder”. When he hit an enemy, they didn’t get back up. Apparently he was also an exceptional sniper. What an odd combination of skills.

She was going over the dossier once more in the mess hall. It was the only place that she could look out a window into the infinity of space without drawing attention. She considered going into the Officer's Club. A handmade sign below stated "enlisted personnel welcome". Commander Hayden had made that authorization early to help bind the crew but it hadn't included her.

A voice startled her out of her thoughts. “May I sit beside you?” She looked up sharply and found Cassandra standing beside her. "Unless you would rather be alone.” She added. 

Jules nodded and gestured at the chair across the table. 

“Your feline companion isn't with you?” Cassandra questioned curiously.  

Jules sat back in the chair pointed at her lap. Cassandra rose slightly, looking over the table edge to find a circle of black fur huddled in Jules’ lap. Cassandra smiled and sat back down. 

“Tell me how you're doing.” The Seeker requested. Jules opened her mouth but Cassandra added quickly: “Honestly, tell me how you're doing.” Jules shut her mouth and looked down at the dossier. Her brows furrowed slightly and she shook her head. 

“I'd like to say that I'm fine, but I'm not.” She admitted quietly. “None of this feels real. Almost a century has gone by, but it's only been a few days for me. And I know that you and Cullen picked all of these people to be on board, but I-“ She looked up sharply. ”I'm sorry. I shouldn't be questioning you.” 

Cassandra leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, crossed in front of her. “No, please tell me the problem. I want to hear your thoughts.” 

“I didn't interact with the crew, but I knew them all. Now everywhere I look there's just unrecognizable faces. This is my home. This is all I've known. Until a few days ago I hadn’t left her in years. Now, there's all this.” She looked up at the woman and for a brief moment, looked her in the eyes. Cassandra’s heart ached at what she saw there. “Now I have to become a completely different person.”

Cassandra couldn’t relate to that in the slightest. She didn’t know what to say. Nothing would make it easier and to deny it would be a lie. Instead, she indicated the file in front of Jules. “Are you excited?” She asked. 

“Should I be?” Jules asked. It wasn’t sarcasm, she was genuinely unsure if she should be or not. 

Cassandra smiled gently. “That would depend on the situation but in this case, I would say yes. You should always air on the side of caution in case things don’t go as you think, but excitement is normal.” 

“From our limited communication, he seems like a very nice man. Your family has an excellent reputation of being kind and generous people.” She offered, hoping that it would help with some of Jules’ nervousness. 

She nodded slowly, moving through the screens until she got back to Morgan’s picture. Her brows furrowed as she studied the picture. “He shares my brother’s name. I haven’t thought of him in years.” 

“His eyes are the same color green as yours.” Cassandra commented. “You seem to share some Trevelyan features.” 

“What if he’s embarrassed of me?” Jules asked before she even realized what was coming out of her mouth. 

Cassandra wanted to reach out and take her hand, but refrained. “He won’t be.” He assured Jules. “And if, by some miracle, he is, you should not take it as a reflection on who you are. He has never met you and I can say with confidence that you are a good person.”

Jules looked up in surprise. Cassandra got the distinct impression that no one had ever said that to her before. 

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” Cassandra said with a gentle smile, rising from her seat. “Just know that if you’d ever like to talk, about anything, I’m available. I’ve taken up in the second commander’s quarters for the duration of the trip.” 

Jules nodded slowly, absently reaching down to stroke Jasoom’s soft fur. “Thank you.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d said that and meant it. 

-----

Despite the fact that it was the hub of all ship activity, Jules had spent very little time in the control room. She stood in there now, off to the side as she watched the planet of Ostwick grow closer. It was beautiful in a way that made her heart ache. Blue rolling oceans, lush green land, mountain ranges dusted with white. 

“Would you like to go alone or would you like for some of us to accompany you?” Cullen asked. Cassandra was already a given as she was a much more confident pilot. 

“Someone should probably be there to represent the Inquisition.” Jules felt weird being the one to decide who would or wouldn’t leave the ship when she’d previously been the one who needed permission. Not that she’d ever asked for it. “I know Josephine made the trip just for this.”

“We have also been offered military aid. Cullen, you should attend as well.” Cassandra advised. “We can be ready to leave in half an hour.”

Good, just enough time to change. Unfortunately she didn’t have much by way of clothing selection. Undergarments and jumpsuits. She did have one more formal outfit for when higher ups of the Chantry or Ferelden government took a tour of the ship. Relatively simple compared to the formal uniforms of the crew. Simple black slacks, a stark white high neck shirt and a dark grey jacket with the Herald’s insignia on the left breast. No name or rank.

It zipped up the front, but she left it open. She was used to relatively loose jumpsuits and the confinement of the jacket was uncomfortable. She brushed her hair, struggling to decide if she should leave it down or put it up. Eventually she decided on down. She’d twisted it up into a hasty bun the night before after her shower and the result was a soft wave that fell just past her shoulders. She swept her bangs behind her ear and looked at her cheek in the mirror. 

She no longer needed a bandage, but the mark was still red and angry. There wasn’t much to be done about it now. She was just glad that it was healing nicely and wouldn’t scar too much. She looked into her mismatched eyes for a long few moments. She wondered if it was the first thing everyone saw or just her.

Jules tried to convince herself that it didn’t matter. She’d left the ship twice already of her own volition. She could do it once more. And then a fourth time, and a fifth and then however times it took until all of this was over.  

Cassandra was already working through the flight checks when she entered the hangar. Cullen was talking with the woman she assumed was Josephine. Their distraction allowed her a moment to study the three of them. She hadn’t really gotten a moment to do so in the last few days. Now that she felt critical of her own appearance, she couldn’t help but compare herself to their attire. 

The Seeker’s and the Commander both wore uniforms, but quite different from each other. The newest woman, the ambassador, appeared to be adorned in fabric entirely made from precious metals and precious gems. Gold leggings moulded against her slim legs, disappearing beneath a sapphire tunic. A gold sash around her waist struck brilliantly against the blue. The soft, silk shirt she wore beneath the tunic rose high against her collarbone, the shoulders flaring into puffs that would look impossibly ridiculous on anyone else. Her warm skin and black hair seemed to soak up the brilliant light, outshining the stunning attire.

Cassandra wore thick pants in a muted grey with diagonal strips of cream running from the outside of each hip to the inside of the knee. Her pistol holster was strapped around her waist in a matching smooth cream. Her jacket was double breasted, the right panel laid over the left. Dark silverite buttons glinted against the grey. A deep maroon capped the jacket from shoulder to shoulder, the color continuing to the top of the high collar. The symbol of the Seekers displayed proudly on the chest, unchanged from Jules’ time. Her short black hair laid down perfectly, each hair afraid to move out of place, especially the thin braid crown, which seemed to be secured by magic. 

Cullen seemed to talk so easily with Josephine. His brows raised ever so slightly in resignation and he shrugged, shaking his head. Judging by the dark golden stubble covering his jaw, he hadn’t shaved in a day or so. Yet, his hair was controlled with military precision, pushed back away from his face. She noticed the scar on his upper lip when he smiled. His amber eyes warmed at something Josephine said. 

His uniform was expertly tailored to his build. Rich brown pants tucked into well cared for tactical boots, laced tightly.  A wide leather belt held a beautiful hydrogen blade at his side. The golden guard was a work of art. It was a manifestation of the symbol that had come to represent the newly formed Inquisition. The watchful eye with it’s spires of flame in gold, the hilt and actual blade itself completing the heraldry that was showing up on more and more uniforms around the Herald. 

The thickness of the deep maroon jacket suggested some sort of projectile protection. It looked like it zipped, but he’d left it open to show a brown-black shirt beneath. Gold edging and embellishments stood out against the maroon around the wrists and waist of the coat. It seemed Ferelden fashion had not changed, judging by the fur cowl that capped the shoulders of the coat. The soft black was streaked with maroon. It seemed to make his already broad shoulders stand out more, the tapering of his waist made more prevalent by the slimming of the fur down the lapels. 

He glanced over Josephine’s shoulder and caught sight of her. Jules cleared her throat and headed toward them, nervously pulling at the bottom of her own plain jacket. The ambassador turned and smiled warmly. “Jules. I apologize that I’ve not had the chance to meet you yet. I’ve been very excited to do so.” Even her accent was silky. “You’re becoming quite infamous within our small ranks.”

Jules’ brows raised slightly. “Really?” 

The Antivan nodded. “They're saying that the name of your ship is no coincidence that you are indeed the Herald of Andraste, sent to save us.”

She immediately felt heat rise into her cheeks. 

“Rest assured, we’re trying to keep such talk to a minimum. Our soldiers should be keeping their minds on other things.” Cullen spoke up when he saw the discomfort on her face. They'd interacted a little in the last few days. Only short conversations and cordial small talk, both of which she was still getting used to. She found that she wasn’t very good at it at all, but the Commander and Seeker didn’t seem to mind. Neither of them had referred to her as a Flea in any of their conversations. 

“We’re ready to depart.” Cassandra called out from the cockpit of the shuttle. Cullen gestured for the two women to board first. She took her place in the copilot’s seat, but Cassandra didn’t seem to need her assistance. It had been years since she’d trained to fly the shuttle and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy to figure out as the ATV she’d driven. 

She got to sit back and watch as the shuttle left the Herald. Cassandra was cool and calculated, even when the turbulence of entry made Jules grip the arms of the chair with a white knuckles. She relaxed more when the shuttle evened out, flying high over the coastline. Beautiful fields of various crops seemed to roll on forever. 

She could just see the namesake city of Ostwick on the horizon when Cassandra descended toward the Trevelyan estate. It was rather modest and had aged well under the care of her family. The manor itself was older than she’d expected. As they circled it, she looked for any familiar features but, try as she might, she didn’t remember any of the landscape. 

Jules swallowed hard when she saw Morgan standing outside of the hangar waiting for them. Anxiety exploded in her stomach, making it roll more than the turbulent descent had. He was lost from sight as they landed in the hangar. She offered to help Cassandra but the Seeker assured her she would be fine and to go on ahead without her. 

As she left the shuttle and headed out of the hangar with Cullen and Josephine she felt nauseous, her stomach in knots. She was glad she hadn't eaten breakfast that day. Morgan met them just outside, extending his hand to Josephine. 

“Signorina Montilyet.” He greeted them warmly. “A pleasure to see you again. I just recently heard from your father. I’m glad to hear your family is doing well. And you with a position in the new Inquisition. That should certainly open some doors for your family.”

“Indeed It’s so wonderful to see you again Morgan..” Josephine seemed to smile so easily. “This is the leader of our army, such as it is, First Commander Cullen Rutherford.” 

The men shook hands cordially. “Good, I have much to discuss with you. Welcome to Ostwick.” 

“And just joining us is Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast.” She introduced. 

“Seeker,” He greeted with another hand shake. “I believe we may be distantly related.” 

“Quite likely. The Pentaghast family is quite...diverse.” Cassandra commented dryly.  

“And of course,” Josephine gestured toward her. “This is-”

Morgan stepped forward. “Jules Trevelyan.” He said with a wide smile. She had seen a picture of his face and a list of his height, weight and other physical attributes but it was far different seeing the person as a whole. She was rather tall for a woman, but Morgan was far taller. Perhaps even more so than Cullen. 

He had thick black hair that fell to his shoulders, perhaps a little bit longer than her own. The short, well-groomed beard made him look quite dashing, almost roguish. So unalike, yet when she looked into his eyes, she knew they were related. He had the same muted, moss green eyes to match her left one. There was a scar on his left eyebrow, bisecting it at an angle through the middle. It hadn’t been in the picture she’d been studying for the last couple of days. 

“The lost Trevelyan.” He said as he came to stand in front of her. He didn’t make any attempt to reach out and touch her as she was afraid that he might. “My entire childhood was filled with stories with you.”

“Some of the generations before me passively tried to find out what happened to you. I've been more active but my best hope was finding your resting place. To think that you would just drop out of the sky one day.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You look just like his drawings.” 

“Drawings?” Jules asked curiously. 

Morgan nodded. “Your brother was quite the artist. He missed a few years in the beginning, when they still thought you might be coming home, but every year on your birthday, he drew a sketch of what he thought you might look like at that age. I’ve gotten them out of storage so that you can have them and see for yourself.” 

He grew more reserved, reaching out to lay his hand on her shoulder. She resisted the urge to pull away. Not that his touch was uncomfortable, just foreign. “He never stopped looking for you.” Morgan told her. 

“I don't remember very much about him.” Jules admitted, guilty. “I didn't even really remember his name until two days ago.”

Morgan smiled reassuringly. “Some information on you arrived mysteriously yesterday. I can tell you that no one blames you for not remembering. You haven’t exactly had an easy go of things. It’s good to have you home though.” 

“Please join me inside.” He requested, addressing the group. “There’s a lot to discuss.” He crooked his elbow and offered Jules his arm. After a moment of hesitation, she slid hers through and allowed him to escort her to the estate. In the end, it was the warmth in his eyes that convinced her to do it. She didn’t really know what the emotion was behind his look, but she liked it. It made her feel warm. 

She wondered if any of the rooms that they passed through were the same as when she had been a child. None of it looked familiar. Many of the furnishings and decorations were clearly old, all of them lovingly maintained. 

“So you've committed to this Inquisition thing?” He asked, gesturing for her to take a chair in the sitting room. He sat down beside her and the others found comfortable seats as well. The arrangement allowed them all to face each other. 

“Yes.” She acknowledged, holding up her glowing green palm. “I'm the only one with this. I feel like I have a duty to.”

“As long as you're sure. You know that you always have a home here.” He offered her. 

She nodded. “Thank you, but I'm sure. It's the right thing to do.”

Morgan chuckled. “You certainly sound like a Trevelyan. I was hoping you would say that.” He turned to address the others as well. “In that case, I have a little under 8,000 men and women who are willing to support the cause. I know that the inquisition is only a half a week old so the Trevelyan estate will pay for all food, uniforms, equipment and housing for those troops.”

“Unfortunately, that is about as much of a financial burden as the Trevelyan state can bear. Jules also has funds available, but given what she is already contributing, I would hope you would not ask more of her.” He added. He could see the surprise on Jules’ face, the shock rendering her speechless. “Your brother left half of the estate to you in his will. Of course, that amount is quite a bit more now. Eighty years of interest makes for quite a tidy sum.” 

“Why wouldn’t you just use the money if you thought I was dead?” Jules asked. 

“We've always prospered so nobody has ever had to dig into it. It's kind of become a family tradition. In fact, instructions that those funds should still be kept in trust is already written into my will.” He smiled again. “I’m very happy to be changing that.” 

“I suppose the Inquisition can have it. I have no use for it.” She said softly, unsure how to process this new information. She didn’t know what to do with money. “You can have all of it.” She said, looking up at Josephine. 

Her eyes widened and she held up her hands. “No. We absolutely will not accept that. For what you are already doing to help we could not accept monetary contributions as well. We should be paying you. Please keep your funds for whatever you should need.”

“It is quite likely that you will be traveling to many places.” Cassandra pointed out. “Should you see something you like, you can use your inheritance.’

“Buy something for myself?” Jules said softly. Such a concept was quite new for her. 

“I have one other offering for the Inquisition. However, it comes with very strict conditions.” Morgan said. “I have a very accomplished military career and I would like to join the Inquisition as well."

“Your conditions?” Cullen asked. 

“I stay with Jules as her personal guardian. Where she goes, I go.” He said, his tone leaving no room for argument or negotiation. “The lost Trevelyan has been found, and I’m not about to let anything else happen to her under my watch.” 

He turned to look at her again. She snapped back to reality. Surely she wasn’t worth so much fuss. “If you’ll have me, that is.” He said with a broad smile. “I’d like to make sure nothing like this happens again.” He said, indicating her new scar.. 

She touched her cheek gently. “This was just an accident. Apparently, I hit a cornerstone when I passed out.” 

“Well, we'll have to come up with a much more interesting story than that.” Morgan chuckled. 

Cullen interjected. “To be fair, the reason she passed out was because she had just defeated a rather large demon and sealed a Breach the size of a small moon over the planet of Haven.” 

“Huh.” Morgan said simply, looking at Jules again.” I don't think it gets much more interesting than that. Maybe start off with that next time.” 

Jules nodded, not sure if he was teasing her or not. Morgan rose from his chair, offering Jules his hand. “I would like to speak with Jules privately in my office. I will send out someone to start coordinating the transport of the troops with you.” 

Hesitantly, she took his hand and stood. 

“Well be here should you need us.” Cassandra told her. “Just call.” 

“I will.” She promised, following Morgan out of the room. She felt her shoulder start to rise and drop. She tried her hardest to keep it from happening, but couldn't. If Morgan noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

He took her to a small room just a short distance down the hall. The rich mahogany walls complemented the red wine leather chairs in front of the massive desk. He pulled out her chair for her, and then sat across from her instead of behind the desk. 

“How are you?" He asked sitting forward in his chair slightly to rest his elbows against his knees. “I can't imagine how insane the last few days have been for you.”

She shrugged to cover up her shoulder tic. “I’m fine I suppose. Other than falling asleep one day and waking up almost a century later.”

“How are they treating you?” He followed up. 

“Well.” She assured him. “Nicely.” She said, suddenly deciding on the word she really wanted. “Everyone is very nice.” 

“Good.” He said with a satisfied smile. “I get the idea that makes you uncomfortable.” He commented. 

“I’m used to ignoring and being ignored. The only one who really spoke to me was First Commander Hayden. As long as I did my duties, he took very good care of me. I was lucky to have a Commander like him.” She said, looking up at him hesitantly. 

“Apparently I don’t report to anyone any more. More people have asked my opinions on things in the last few days than they have the last few years. They’re treating me like…” Her voice dropped off. 

“A person?” He prompted. She met his eyes and nodded. 

“We’ll have to get you used to that. That’s how it’s going to be from here on out. I’ll see to that.” He promised. “That was all. I just wanted to make sure you felt you could talk freely if everything wasn’t okay.”

He stood and offered his hand once more. He pulled her up gently and then released her hand. “Let’s get you home, shall we?” 

Relief blossomed and she nodded. "I think you'll like her." Jules said, giving him a brief smile. Though he didn't know how truly rare her smile was, he cherished it anyway.

The lost Trevelyan. She was standing in front of him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was still very much lost.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 159

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 11 - “Nozomi and Coco’s Hot Air Balloon Ride!” Date watched: 19 November 2019 Original air date: 15 April 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/ytsGyVm Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

oh yeah, it’s that episode

Every once in a while you come across an episode of Precure that is absolutely iconic. Nozomi and Coco’s balloon ride is one of those, because while we knew Nozomi had a thing for Coco, this episode shows us that there might actually be some chemistry here, and it’s not just a young girl’s naive crush. It also sets Nozomi down the path to finding her dream, aside from helping Coco. So let’s explore how it all happens.

The Plot

Nozomi is doing abysmal in her math class (it appears to be basic algebra), so the other girls propose a regular study group at Natts House. Rin and Urara manage to get a grasp on their work by relating it to their interests, but Nozomi doesn’t get it and stares out the window, noticing a hot air balloon in the town park. When Karen calls her out for not having made any progress, she blows it off and says she’ll get Coco to give her the answers, prompting the others to say they’ll leave her behind and form Precure 4. This bit of tough love is meant to motivate the dreamy girl, but instead she gets upset and runs out of the house. Coco quickly chases after her while Nuts advises the four that their approach probably wasn’t going to help Nozomi, but that Coco is good at reaching out to people and helping them.

After promising not to just take her back to Natts House, Coco leads Nozomi to the balloons, where she is enamored with the whole process and asks the pilots lots of questions about how the balloon works. They offer to give her a ride, and after noticing Natts House from up in the air, she opens up to Coco about her childhood. She has always had a hard time learning, lagging behind her classmates. Coco quizzes her about how the balloon works, and she answers correctly, showing how she can learn when she’s interested. Coco advises her that studying is similar to filling a balloon with hot air, so that when you find a dream, you can fly towards it. Then he thanks her for supporting his dream, and tells her it’s okay to put it in second place if she finds a dream of her own. Some turbulence sends Nozomi tumbling into Coco’s arms in a pseudo-hug, causing her to blush deeply at the closeness and his kindness.

Unfortunately, Nightmare is around to ruin the tender moments. When the balloon lands due to the turbulent weather, Arachnea turns it into a Kowaina and it flies off above the clouds with only Nozomi and Coco on board. Nozomi transforms and starts to fight, but is overpowered. Coco tries to tell her to save herself rather than protecting him, but she refuses to do so, because her dream is to make his dream a reality. On the ground, the other four girls can see the fight going on in the clouds but they can’t reach it. Ultimately Rouge gets a spring boost from Aqua and Mint and manages to land in the clouds just in time to rescue Dream, with Lemonade following suit shortly. Together, the three girls manage to defeat the monster and Arachnea retreats to lose another day. Not to be left out of the action completely, Mint and Aqua use their special moves to safely guide Rouge and Lemonade back to the ground. The four friends call out to Nozomi and Coco that they’re sorry, and hope to see them back at Natts House. Nozomi explains to Coco that she’s not only fighting for his sake, but believes that making his dream come true will help her self-confidence and aid in finding a dream of her own.

Back at school a week later, Nozomi has improved her score on her latest math test from an 18 to a 35.... and reveals she also read a thick book about hot air balloons in the same time period. Karen, willing to take small victories, challenges Nozomi to score at the class average on the next test, while Coco looks on in admiration.

The Analysis

Sorry the summary was pretty verbose, there’s a lot to cover and i still glossed over some points I want to discuss in this section.

First of all, I’m not a doctor, but it looks to me like Nozomi is exhibiting signs of a learning disorder, such as ADHD. She has difficulty focusing on one thing at a time, she struggles with basic concepts, she gets easily distracted, but when she finds something she is interested in, she can understand it easily. The episode doesn’t acknowledge this possibility at all, though this could be because Japan has a much more negative stigma to the idea of mental illness, and Toei presumably didn’t want Nozomi to be known as the Pretty Cure with a disorder (even if it could be a good way to change the conversation). However you slice it, can’t-study Nozomi is kinda super relatable.

It’s a really good look at how to handle learning difficulties, and why education is important, especially when you’re struggling. Nozomi does like learning, but her difficulty comes from not being interested in the subjects being taught to her. I’m sure everybody out there has had this happen at some point in their lives, and I think it’s wonderful that they broached this topic. Trying to relate the subject to something you are interested in is a good tool, or otherwise approaching it from a different angle. Formal education kind of struggles with this, it’s very structured and inflexible in a lot of ways, but if you can find a way to make a topic appealing to you, you might be able to understand what is being taught. And Coco’s speech on why it’s important to learn is not only core to the show’s themes, but all around good life advice. Education gives you the tools you need to succeed at your dream. Knowing math or history or reading classic literature may not be useful in your daily life, but understanding how to absorb and utilize information is a valuable life skill. The metaphor with the hot air balloon is actually very clever, and betrays Coco’s wisdom. As Nuts said, he is naturally good at approaching and helping people with their troubles, and that’s on full display as he gently guides Nozomi towards appreciating herself more.

The other side of this is that Coco is genuinely grateful to Nozomi for trying to help him achieve his dream of reviving Palmier Kingdom, and he wants to help her find her own dream, because after all, his has a more definite endpoint. He tells her that he doesn’t mind taking second place if she finds something she’d rather do, but she lets him know that, by helping him, she’s learning more about herself and what she wants to do, and this in turn is going to help her find her dream. Not to spoil too much, but across these two seasons, Nozomi does find something she strives for, and it’s really cool to see, in this fairly early episode, that she’s aware that helping Coco is more of a stepping stone to helping herself, not an end goal.

The most obvious reason this episode is remembered is because it’s a step towards Nozomi and Coco becoming closer, romantically. Nozomi had a bit of a crush on Coco from the moment she laid eyes on him, but that hasn’t really been fleshed out much since then, because they’ve been busy worldbuilding. Now they’ve got a full team of Precures, Nuts has been revived, a smattering of Pinkies have been caught, and each Nightmare staff member has been defeated a few times; so we can look at romance again. Nozomi still has heart flutters when she’s close to Coco, and she gets really embarrassed when they accidentally hug. Coco, meanwhile, isn’t showing any stereotypical signs of love, but he did chase after Nozomi, he went out of his way to console and help her through a really hard situation for her, and he thanked her for her role in helping him. She was the first person to help him, and she did so without question, and that’s incredibly important to him.

It’s cute in a shipping sense but also honestly Nozomi and Coco are a great couple and it’s nice to see a mutual love story, as opposed to the one-way romances from the previous shows.

On another positive note, this episode gives us some memorable lines, such as Nozomi’s “I don’t understand what I don’t understand” and some quality faces. I’m not going to post them all, so check the gallery. BUT I did get this great gif. Use it however you want.

The only thing I can criticize about this episode is also the art. There are a LOT of shots that are just not very good. Noodle people, distorted faces, you name it, it’s here.

Even in this sentimental moment, Nozomi’s hand is really small:

It’s not awful but it’s just off enough to stand out. However, a little sketchy art isn’t enough to bring this down from being a great episode. It’s a quality series.

Next time, we have another memorable episode, for a different reason: Urara as a stage show MC. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 “Kettei!”, one in flashback, but it counts.

Also, we got one of Nozomi’s less common sayings, “Nantoka naru naru!” or “It’ll work out some way or anothers!”

[holmquistewduckettwq53insur-blog]

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[olga-eulalia]

You know what? I can post terrible self-indulgent fic if I want to, so here’s a Sleeping Beauty AU, featuring Silver and Flint. ~3500 words. R just to be on the safe side. Some non-con. Unbeta’d. Non-native speaker writing here.

Chapter 1

Once upon a time, when it was late winter and John Silver had been travelling across the land for many months, he came into a forest that was dark and strangely quiet, and he thought he’d lost the path when suddenly, just before nightfall, a hollow-way appeared in the gloom that brought him safely to the entrance of an inn.

The room was dimly lit, the ceiling low, and smoke came curling out when he entered. For a moment, all faces were turned towards him, squinting. But since Silver was not altogether unpleasant to look at and had the gift of a charming smile he found himself accepted rather warmly for a mere stranger passing through.

Over the years he had learned a couple of valuable things: That news, embellished, were quick to draw a crowd. That people in general enjoyed the company of a man who held their opinions in high esteem. That a ripping yarn was as good as any currency in that even the most standoffish were afflicted with an unusual bout of generosity once the teller’s tongue started to feel a bit parched. And all these, and more, came in very handy that night.

*

Now it was true even then that every place, no matter how remote, had its own stories, some of which people liked to talk about gleefully and often. While others, they only mentioned under their breath or kept secret altogether for fear of catching their oddness. And as knowing which was which was nigh impossible in advance, one had to excuse Silver. It was nothing but his natural curiosity that made him ask about the manor in the distance, whose it was, and he couldn’t have known that it would bring conversation throughout the room to a halt.

"The Devil's," a woodcutter muttered into his jug of ale.

The blacksmith, no less brawny in stature, set down his mug and corrected him.

Then, bit by bit, more people felt confident enough to chime in. Indeed, a rather fierce competition arose as to whose sources were the most reliable, whose account the most accurate. The innkeeper's face was impartiality itself as she pulled another frothy pint.

From what Silver was able to gather the building had been abandoned for more than two generations and folk in these parts believed that it was frequented by a most godless crowd: Ogres, ghosts, witches and suchlike. It was somewhat difficult to pin down the particulars of the tale since it morphed as it went from teller to teller, but in one aspect they all agreed: Don’t go near. The message was so uniform that one could almost believe everyone either in on a joke or cleverly hiding something from an outsider.

Silver, intrigued, had just made the decision to discover for himself whether the place held anything of value that could make his detour yet worthwhile when a shadow by the fire spoke up.

Hogwash! A tall, old man shifted his lined face into the light. In his days, everyone knew that the manor had been bewitched and that the only way to release its residents from the spell was to bestow one kiss on the beautiful princess trapped inside.

The old man frowned at the amusement rippling through his audience. He continued: Some of his friends had tried it in their youthful folly. Thought they could best the brambles that encased the stone walls as securely as an iron casket, but none of them were ever seen to make it through. Or return.

"Witchcraft." The woodcutter nodded.

The talk then shifted to discuss other possible doings of the Devil and whether the local magistrate was in cahoots with him, and Silver, feigning bodily discomfort, moved across the room to occupy a cosy seat by the fire as well.

"I'd very much like to see this manor house for myself," he said. Perhaps the tale and her teller's name would find their way into the book he was writing, he offered as incentive, hoping that, at the end of the day, an interested listener would make up for an empty promise. "You wouldn't happen to remember the shortest way?"

The old man studied the frayed edges of Silver's second-hand coat and his peg leg with great care, but Silver’s face yet more carefully still. From the corner of his mouth, where a missing tooth allowed him to comfortably fit the amber stem of his pipe, he admitted, “I do.”

Chapter 2

A glittering layer of ice outlined branch and fallen leaf. Overnight, the ground had frozen over and Silver’s breath fogged the air as he walked the perimeter. His snares were empty, winter mushrooms sparse. With the supplies in his bag dwindling, a longer stay would be ill-advised, and it pained him to think that he'd have to seek his good fortune elsewhere while the turreted manor sat like a most precious egg pristine in its spiky nest. His gaze roamed all that unspoiled glass and iron he'd be able to sell if only he could find a way to get his hands on it.

At one point, the house must have lorded over a large swath of land. The tree-lined road, whose faint remnants had guided him on his way, stretched for about two miles up north and the overgrown front gate was wide enough to fit six horses side by side. In an abandoned farmstead close by, under a roof that sat worryingly askew, Silver had made camp. And though he had a good view of the premises, there was nothing out of the ordinary to report on. Except for one very obvious thing:

The unusually large thornhedge that wrapped the manor in a tight embrace, covering it all the way round and almost all the way up the highest tower. Even the forest kept its distance from such an unruly, greedy growth that had swallowed up ladder, plank and axe in its past and more recently Silver’s handsaw.

He spotted the tool and began to tug at it with all his strength, hoping to pry it from the clutches of the hedge this time. The sun's rays were slanting in just so that he could make out something stuck further inside the thicket. A piece of clothing perhaps. Or perhaps it was...

"Good morning!" An old woman, snugly wrapped up in shawls, had come out of the woods and startled him.

"Good morning," he scrambled up his last ounce of cheer. Seeing that she was dragging a bundle of brushwood along on a makeshift sledge, he then offered his help, though, truth be told, he deemed his own work far more important and had no real intention of abandoning it.

She mustered him with a critical eye and declined. “You seem very busy.”

As it turned out, she was much more interested in what he was doing anyway, lingering by his side and quizzing him about his intentions.

Those were nothing but chivalrous, he assured her. Curse-breaking was his business. Drawn by the warm sparkle in her eyes, he leaned in and said, "I heard," and then recounted the old man's tale.

"Oh, nonsense!" She poked the hard ground with her walking stick. "When I was young, everyone knew that it was no princess trapped inside this bloody hedge, but a handsome prince." The edges of her smile gleamed with gold. "You let me know if you need any help in waking him from his slumber."

Despite the chill, Silver flushed terribly, seeing himself bent over a downy pillow, lips skimming across a prickly cheek, and gave a chuckle that only drew more attention to his self-conscious state.

Perceptive and kind, the old woman changed the subject, entertaining him with anecdotes of bygone days for a while, bringing to life the bustle of the estate with such clarity in his mind’s eye that he was almost tricked into mourning its loss.

“Snow's coming. Can always trust my bones to be right about that,” she eventually said and then pulled a wrinkled apple and a handful of raisins from her coat pockets -- a sweet haul which she handed to Silver in its entirety, patting his cheek. “Good luck, dear.”

*

Long after she had disappeared back into the forest, Silver was still sitting on an empty plinth with a raisin tucked between his back teeth. When was the last time someone had shown him such kindness? Gifted him food without expecting anything in return? Called him dear without disdain? He should've been more honest about wanting to help her. He should've been more honest in wanting to immortalize the old man's name in a book, too. But instead, he had chosen this. This unrewarding task. This confounded thing.

His next attempt at freeing the saw was rather ungentle. And the more he chided it for its stubbornness, the more the hedge creaked and fought against his efforts. With thorns like talons, it rewarded his impatience by goring him to the bone.

Chapter 3

In the wan morning light, slowly among the branches, snowflakes descended. The forest lay quiet and still as if it had taken a deep breath and slipped under a white cover where it now waited for the sun's return.

While Silver’s sore hands were preparing his belongings for the journey ahead, carefully cording up his burlap bag, his thoughts were far away already, imagining a warm spot, a mouth-watering meal in the next town. He was about to turn his back on the manor, erase this disappointment from memory to the best of his ability when it pierced him: Red.

Red, almost purple, amidst the fresh snow and ashen wood, a delicate bud poked its head out from an array of tender green where yesterday none had been visible, so vibrant and soaked with colour that paint might drip from it at any moment. Behind it, within reach, another blossom coiled. And then another. Dazzled, Silver quite forgot all caution and stepped closer to touch them with his fingertips. They were real, all of them. And a little further on, closer by the wall, where warmth huddled by the stones, one had unfurled its petals like a joyful welcome.

There he saw that he had come a long way already and that the forest was barely visible from this far inside the hedge. Slender rods arched above him like a protective bower, criss-crossing densely. If the old tale had been true and those been possessed of malicious intent, escape would have been quite impossible at this point.

So when the man-high wooden door at the end of the path yielded and allowed him in, Silver grinned: People like him never got stuck in fairytales.

Chapter 4

It was as quiet as the whispering snowfall outside. But a peal of laughter might ring out any moment. A door fall into its lock. A serving-maid pass by, carrying a stack of freshly folded linen. Sumptuous carpets muffled Silver’s steps as he walked the long, branching hallways of the manor, a flickering five-armed candelabra in hand that illuminated a wealth of riches difficult to wrap one’s mind around. Marble, golden ornaments, exquisite furnishings -- only the finest, most expensive materials had been good enough for the owner, whom Silver had started to think of very dearly.

Coming into the great hall by way of the kitchen, he had tried his way through the pickled goods in the pantry till his stomach was stuffed full so that his gait was unhurried now and slow while the bag in his tow grew heavier fast.  

Wherever he went, whether rounding a corner or climbing a stairway, eyes followed him, recognizing him as someone who did not belong and looking on his presence with according disdain. At times bewigged and befrilled, at times presented on black silk and ermine, a hundred unhappy faces judged his actions as he explored room after room. It filled him with an odd sense of satisfaction to see that a couple of these portraits had been knocked down and vandalised, their faces ripped out.

Following those, he discovered that someone had beat him to the library. Books had been pulled out, drawers upturned, the floor strewn with loose papers. Ransacked it appeared in stark contrast to the rest of the house which remained undisturbed in its stately splendour.

Like a box full of choice jewels, the lady's bedroom opened up to him, the surfaces sheened with mother-of-pearl gloss in the pale light. A satin evening gown had been laid out. Matching jewellery. Items that Silver thought to leave untouched, stepping past them into the adjoining chamber where he found half the curtains drawn.

In the dusk, which made it difficult to tell shadow from shape, Silver at first believed that an armful of clothes had been carelessly flung across the bed, but the glow of his candelabra soon transformed it into two knee-high boots, a dark coat and even in the dimness the red shock of hair then became unmistakable.

Silver backed away, withdrawing his light as fast as possible. A doorframe bumped his elbow and startled him into speaking. "I'm awfully sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to disturb...,” he said.

But the figure continued to sprawl facedown as if felled by a mortal blow.

Silver hesitated. He thought of the bag bulging with jewellery and artworks that was waiting for him outside in the hallway and he thought of what happened to thieves who were caught stealing from rich people's homes. And then, unbidden, the memory of the two old people and his own wheedling talk entered his mind and prompted him to drag his courage by the scruff.

It took both hands and a lot of strength to roll the body onto its back. Thick strands of hair fell aside, revealing a face both virile and elegant, its features so handsomely drawn and complexion so delicate that Silver was quite startled by its beauty. He had spent enough time in the study, rummaging through the documents there and looking at the portraits to know that this man was not the master of the house, and since there was no plunder on him except for a scrap of paper clutched in his hand, which made thievery an unlikely motive for his being here, his presence remained a mystery.

A quick examination revealed no visible wound. And another couple of minutes gave certainty that the man’s life was not altogether gone. Both his heartbeat and his breath merely came very slowly and could not be quickened by any means at hand. Whatever it was -- surely a quick peck would not be able to cure as strange a condition as this.

To distract himself from that particular thought, Silver grabbed the crumpled paper and smoothed it out. The lines there were even, the letters themselves full  of verve as their author vowed to do the utmost to mitigate the damage of the curse and apologised more than once for reneging on the promise of forever, but that these drastic measures were necessary, alas, to avert a much more dreadful fate.

“So I take it you’re James?” Silver, stirred by the intimate, imploring tone of the letter, pondered the sleeper’s face.

By the minute now, the old tale gained in plausibility until it had lodged itself in Silver’s mind like a bulky obstacle that he couldn’t think past, and he caught his gaze returning to those tender lips again and again. Considering it as a real possibility was simply absurd. And it definitely wasn’t good sense that made him lean over and study the man from up close. His thick eyelashes. His freckles. The faint lines bracketing his trim, red beard. Was his expression dreamy? Thoughtful? Mournful? Silver, watching the candlelight shift emotions around like ill-fitting puzzle pieces, couldn’t say.

Nerves aflutter, he gnawed on his lip and considered what if. He lowered his face further. "You’ll forgive me if I," he said, voice thinning to a whisper, “try,” and then hardly dared breathe while he let his mouth sink down into the midst of that soft beard and onto silken lips.

*

Satisfied, at last, that it would be considered a kiss and not only an attempt at one, Silver drew back and watched for a response. But none came.

Of course, none came. He shook his head. Truly, it was high time to put silly notions of fantastic deeds aside once and for all.

“Well,” he said, “I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time. I’ll just... need to take some things to incentivise the good doctor to make the trip out here. I’m sure you’d understand.”

Concentration proved a slippery thing when he tried to picture his loot and which item he could part with painlessly and, idly searching for a clue perhaps, he glanced at the man’s face again, expecting tacit permission there, but finding green eyes instead whose focus jumped, caught and pinned with terrible accuracy. Silver’s gaze was dragged into them like light into an endless well.  

The man pushed himself upright. With an unexpectedly gentle caress, a touch so light that it was barely there, he slipped Silver’s bandaged hand into his palm.

Silver, suspended in a state of anticipation, let it happen. He was glad to be greeted with no anger and no confusion, only a persistent kind of curiosity.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment and then plaintively, evoking an overwhelming need to comfort and reassure, the man asked him, “You’ll forgive me?”

“I,” Silver said and at that instant found himself grabbed by the nape, a thumb splayed across his pulse. “Wait! No, I didn’t mean to– I thought-”

As the man pushed him back onto the bed and shifted his muscular body on top of him, it dawned on Silver too late that he had read the signs wrong, that what he had interpreted as curiosity was voracious appetite instead. And as a gust of hot breath moved over his neck and a set of sharp teeth grazed the all too tender skin there, he remembered that some people knew how to craft a spell with skill and purpose and that not all of their handiwork was meant to be broken.

Pain pierced his skin and sank deeper, sounding out the depths of him.

It seemed impossible that someone might desire such a thing as this and therefore Silver had no words at the ready that would stop the act from happening, and his tongue, which had talked him out of many a precarious situation, floundered.

Compared to the immovable grip on him, his own struggle seemed laughably weak, as if his hands were only curled into loose fists, as if his limbs were good for not much more than a twitch, as if he weren’t struggling to free himself with all his strength, now hanging from a mouth like prey.

The man’s lips were fastened tight to his neck, drinking deeply from his heart’s stream. Warmth radiated from the wound, crawling up Silver’s cheek, down over his chest. Slim-fingered, it reached into his veins and sprouted blossoms, letting them grow as tall as trees so that they tinted everything in the luminous red of their immense petals. To Silver they seemed a marvellous thing and he thought he might rest a while in their light and laze in contentment where pleasure was so abundant and he wanted for nothing. Drowsy, he was rocked. Sated, he was fed more. Aroused, he was excited further until ecstasy prickled all over his skin and every individual heartbeat was delight, so that he was a reedy whine, a writhe in the sheets, and nothing more.

His body didn’t seem to know what to do with all that bliss, and he cusped and came inside his drawers -- a feeble lift of his hips. And then he was spat out.

Waiting for just that moment, cold, slavering, laid hands on him and made him shiver. With a head full of noise and his vision flickering out, he rolled over and dragged himself across the bed, miles and miles of bright cloth stretching out ahead of him. Reason, perhaps, whispered that he was not going to make it, not in such a weakened state, and he could not counter it, not understanding why he was trying to leave in the first place when there was so much comfort and joy waiting for him just an arm’s length away, only knowing that he absolutely must.

And so he grabbed another delirious inch of his freedom and then another, and slowly, ever so slowly managed to pull himself to the edge of a cliff. He clutched at it, belatedly trying to mitigate his fall, already plummeting.

A pair of strong arms gathered him into their cradle, clasped him tight and lifted him up. “Are you trying to lose another limb?” He was deposited somewhere flat and impossibly soft and then covered in warmth. Silver let the world happen around him for a while. “When you’re awake your hand will need cleaning.” The hair was brushed from his face. “And I’m sure you’ll be hungry too.”

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam season 3, episode 3 reaction

Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting so far! I love hearing people’s thoughts on S3 and reading anecdotes about other viewing experiences. This episode has some moments with a lot of room for varying interpretations; I would love to hear other POVs if you got a different reading out of a scene. It’s also one of the episodes where we have the original scripts, so we can compare the first draft with the finished product. 

Episode 3 feels like an impending train wreck up until the very end, where Robyn intervenes to keep things on track. 

SEASON 3, EPISODE 3 - “Now you’re bonding too much”

Clip 1 - Damage control, part 1

Isak starts off literally on the sidelines as he deals with the fallout of his ill-conceived lies as Emma writes a long text saying it’s fine if he’s not interested but he doesn’t have to give her false hope. Well, he is giving her some false hope, but we’ve also see him express reluctance over hanging out with her and partying with her. I can’t help but feel a little bit bad for him because even if he did make this mess himself, he also didn’t want to do the party with Emma in the first place. He’s created his own problems but they’re a result of his struggles with internalized homophobia and his need to maintain a typical heterosexual dudebro exterior. He really needs to learn to stop waffling and giving in to what people expect or want from him and start speaking up for himself, but of course he can’t quite do that until he starts being honest with himself and others.

Emma demonstrates her maturity by writing a reasonable-ish text message at 21:35, then complaining that he doesn’t answer at 22:01, then apologizing and asking him to reply at 22:18, then calling him an asshole at 22:30. This is one of my greatest personal pet peeves so I’m not exactly feeling sympathy for her at not getting a text reply within an hour. Some of us take naps or go to the movies or do stuff that requires us to be away from our phones for an hour. 

I’ve been wondering why Julie chose to write Emma the way she did, because if you think about it, Isak could have had a female “love interest” who was really cool and smart and seemingly perfect for him, if not for the fact that he’s gay and can’t make himself be interested in her. If I had to guess, I’d guess Emma is characterized like this because someone more mature or level-headed might be able to pick up on the massive hints that he isn’t into her, or in any case might not be so doggedly persistent in getting Isak’s attention. Instead, she’s beautiful and sweet enough, if ignorant in certain aspects, but she’s not someone Isak can just shake off by being distant. He has to deal with the consequences of flirting with her when he doesn’t mean it, because she won’t just go away if he ignores her. 

Additionally, I guess having a “love interest” like her only make it more obvious how right Even is for Isak, not just in the sense of Even being a boy but being someone with whom he forms a natural connection. Isak with Emma acts fake, Isak with Even acts real.

I’m not trying to hate on Emma, by the way; I know there’s an ugly side of fandom that can OTT bash her or Sonja not for their actual flaws but for existing. With Emma it’s complicated because she does do some shitty stuff later on that is legitimately worthy of criticism. Ultimately I think she doesn’t come off as well as someone like Sonja, or even Ingrid or Iben in S1, who are similarly minor characters causing problems for our POV character, but at this point in the story I still had plenty of sympathy for her. Isak is being unfair to her.

Mahdi calls Isak a traitor as he sits down and goes in on him for cancelling the party. It’s not really a surprise that Isak ended up snapping at him later in the season - obviously I love the boy squad and things worked out well and they became an adorable friendship crew, but these two clashed a lot in the first part of S3. To be fair to Mahdi, Isak has in the space of two episodes lost the group’s weed and randomly cancelled a pre-party by lying to everyone involved. Not good bro behavior. 

More to add to my theory that they’re relatively new friends and Mahdi is in this group via Jonas: he has no idea about Isak’s mom situation. I can’t remember if Magnus knows - I don’t remember him talking about it although “Magnus” has known Isak for a while if you count David’s early appearances. But even if you assume Isak is holding back on the specific details, Mahdi doesn’t seem to know that there’s anything unusual about what’s going on with his mom.

Isak is lying here again by mentioning his mom but it’s at least a convincing lie for once. He knows that Jonas will realize the seriousness of what he’s implying, and he also probably won’t press him too hard about the situation. It’s a little shitty that he uses the very serious issue of his mom’s illness - something that Jonas has helped Isak deal with firsthand - as a cover story for the real reason he bailed on Friday. But Isak’s mom is also a constant source of stress and worry for him so there is some truth in it.

Nice acting from Marlon when Jonas’ face changes as soon as Isak mentions his mom. Jonas being so protective and concerned for Isak = 💛💛💛

Mahdi of course doesn’t get it, because moms being stressed is just a thing moms do, they get upset because the kids made a mess or the car broke down or the dog dug a hole in the couch. “Stress” implies something far more mundane than the real situation with Isak’s mom.

Jonas asks simply how Isak’s mother is doing, nothing more, and Mahdi then manages to pick up from Isak’s expression and a serious shared look with Jonas that more is happening with Isak than he realizes. It’s noted in the script that he realizes here. So he drops the argument and tells Isak to just arrange a new pre-party. Case closed, as Jonas and Mahdi say!

Of course, you can tell from Isak’s expression that the case is not closed. First of all, he’s still lying to his friends. Second, how is he going to get a new pre-drink arranged with those girls when Emma is pissed off at him? Third, arranging a new pre-drink will not solve Isak’s rather large problem of not wanting to drink with Emma because he is not interested in her in the slightest.

There’s an IG post from Isak of the boys playing video games the next day, so things were chill again pretty quick.

Clip 2 - The Gay Test

This clip takes place on Mandag, 3:03, for anyone who wants to keep track of the repeating numbers.

Man, this fucking scene. This is bleak.

We start with Isak staring at the ceiling, just staring. You can imagine the million things that are on his mind. He reaches over for his phone and we get one of those biblical texts from his mom. Not as apocalyptic as usual, but still one more thing to cause him “stress” to borrow a euphemism. All these texts are both reminders that not only his mom is struggling with mental illness, she might not accept him if she knew certain facts about him. Facts which are heavily on his mind as of late.

Also, I guess Isak just sleeps in his underwear since we see it happen a few times, but the fact that he’s not dressed works for this being a very stripped down sort of scene, where Isak gets down to the heart of the matter on his laptop. Confronting ideas about his own sexuality directly even if he’s just typing them into a search engine. 

This whole clip is the definition of show, don’t tell, and Tarjei does such excellent acting here, especially considering that he’s using a pretty limited range of facial expressions and body language. Which makes sense, to be clear - he’s alone in his room at 3:03, he doesn’t need to be projecting his feelings to other characters or overreacting. But despite the fact that he’s not asked to go through a huge range here, man does this kid get across everything you need to know about what’s running through Isak’s mind. In fact the stillness works in his favor here, emphasizing his dead-inside, hopeless stare.

His acting carries this scene when there’s no voice-over or exposition to walk us through what’s happening. For instance, when Isak looks at Emma’s picture on Facebook, there’s no explanation, but we understand. He’s trying to see if he feels anything toward it, any attraction at all. He’s probably trying to make himself feel some attraction. 

We don’t actually see the search that led to him finding the gay test, but you can probably assume it was something like how to know if you’re gay or am I gay or something like that. But it might have been interesting to see exactly how he phrased it, to note the level of detachment or certainty in the phrasing.

This fucking test. A real test, by the way! The scripts have the links for the websites Isak visits in this clip, so Julie did her research. This scene was written around the existence of this crap. Did she get advised by RL gay people about the “empty closets” website while talking to members of the LGBT community for this season? Did she just Google “am I gay” and “how to get turned on by girls if you are gay” in order to find some appropriate links?

I was reluctant to give that website hits, but I did want to see exactly what the rest of the questions were, so I went through the test. 

The quiz is 20 questions and they’re all about personal grooming and style habits, gay-friendly pop culture, and avoidance of emotions. Nowhere in this quiz to determine whether someone is gay does it ask questions like “Are you attracted to men?” “Do you want to have sex with men?” “Do you fall in love with men?” Anything that has to with the actual definition of being a gay man. It is all about the stereotypes of having a “gay” personality.

Not only is this quiz is very stupid (obviously), but it also covers a very narrow perspective of what it means to be gay. A lot of the questions assume a middle- or upper-middle-class lifestyle and a selective pool of interests. It’s also an American-centric quiz and one that seems rather dated. There’s one question about who won season 1 of Project Runway - a season that aired in 2004, when Isak was five years old. How can this possibly be an accurate judge of Isak’s sexuality? But for a vulnerable teenager, it doesn’t matter that the test is ludicrous. It’s just reinforcing his worst fears of what a gay man has to be, muddling his perception of who he is. Because on the one hand, if this is what a gay man is, then Isak can’t be gay. He’s not one of those gay guys. But on the other hand, he still feels like he has to distance himself from these ideas of what gay is so he’s not seen that way. It’s all very messy. 

This part is specifically mentioned in the script: Isak hovers over the time travel question, seeming like he’s going to choose Moulin Rouge but picking Woodstock, the less “gay’ seeming option. Trying not to get too high of a score on the quiz. It’s very depressing that he needs to monitor himself like this - I mean, this is a dumbass online quiz and he’s taking it alone at night! Who cares? Sometimes I take Buzzfeed quizzes like “Design a taco and we’ll tell you what tropical fish you are” but does it tell me anything about myself if it says I’m a suckermouth catfish? No. Really he just doesn’t want this insignificant test to confirm something he already fears about himself.

Also we never see him watch any Baz Luhrmann films other than Romeo + Juliet, but I wonder if he watched Moulin Rouge and that sparked his interest in almost picking that option. Baz Luhrmann’s filmography isn’t that large; he’s directed the Red Curtain Trilogy (Strictly Ballroom, R+J, and Moulin Rouge), Australia, and The Great Gatsby, plus the pilot of The Get Down. You could watch all of his movies in a weekend. I know Isak is pretty upset and about to get focused on being “straight” but he had time to research and listen to Nas’ discography sometime this week, so it’s not unreasonable he also checked out other Baz films.

(Only three of those five films are tragedies, by the way! If Isak had stumbled upon Strictly Ballroom, perhaps this season would have turned out differently.)

If he watched Moulin Rouge, by that way, that might add some extra hesitation over the question. A reminder of Even, a reminder of these feelings that are causing him so much pain.

He’s 20% gay, which by this test’s standards is not very gay,  but probably too gay for his liking. 

how to get turned on by girls if you are gay -  I think it’s the “if you are gay” bit that makes this particularly depressing, because Isak knows what he is. He might be taking The Gay Test but really he knows he is gay. This isn’t really about him struggling with feelings for a guy for the first time and figuring out what that means about himself. This season isn’t about Isak realizing that he is gay. He’s known for a while; he’s likely known since he had a crush on Jonas, at least. It’s just that this time with Even, these feelings are coming to the forefront; this time, he almost found himself in a situation where a guy liked him back, and that leaves him with a different range of options than crushing on a straight dude where it’s “safe” in the sense that it’ll never happen. If a guy likes him back, it’s more dangerous, because something can happen. This Google search is about Isak trying to find out how to force a heterosexual side from himself despite knowing it’s fake.

In the script he does a search for “how to get turned on by girls if you are 22% gay” which I’m guessing they changed either to get the right search results on screen or because that phrasing is kind of humorous despite the topic, and it’s at odds with the serious tone of Isak’s struggle here.

Actually, I take it back. You know what is the most depressing about this part? That these are all real forums and posts from closeted gay people. Not fake websites made up for the show, as you would see in most television series. Real comments from real gay guys, talking about how to force themselves to get aroused by women. 

“I get drunk and try to focus on what is attractive about the girl. Works for me.” A real person wrote that.

I wasn’t watching this in real time yet, and I actually saw the pre-drink clip before I saw this one so I wasn’t worried about the pre-drink ending in Isak sleeping with a girl, but I can imagine a sense of foreboding from this clip? Particularly with the focus on the advice about sleeping with a girl. I can definitely imagine that it’d seem like Isak was about to make himself have sex with Emma (or another girl). I am so, so glad that Julie didn’t put Isak through that. It’s depressing enough to see him just think about it.

Clip 3 - Damage control, part 2

Ahhh, it’s the first appearance of Isak’s locker! Things are spilling out of it, he has a hard time cramming his belongings inside and keeping it shut.

So to translate the metaphor of Isak’s locker of self-acceptance: Isak knows he is gay, he has spent the past week indulging in his attraction to Even, and now he’s going to force all those feelings back inside no matter what it takes.

Also, in the script, the locker is able to be closed once Isak says he won’t host the party, so he’s closing it by turning down this opportunity to potentially hang with Even - the whole reason he got roped into hosting in the first place by asking if there would be more kosegruppa meetings.

Lmao, Isak seems incredibly stressed out by his locker, like Tarjei is breathing heavily and he has these wild eyes at the end when he turns back to Vilde. Keeping his locker shut sure must take a toll on him.

Isak blames other people for not being able to host the party instead of owning up to the real reason, which of course he would never admit out loud. He wanted to know if there would be more kosegruppa meetings, in case Even would come, but now Even is the last thing he wants to think about. With this party, Even might not only show up, but could bring his beautiful girlfriend along.

Oh, Isak. Before you told this lie, you should have counted on Eskild having contacts with Noora’s social circle. Eskild, not want to host a party? Please.

He then pins it on Linn which is at least a more believable lie. Linn is the one who asks her roommates to keep it down and wants to stay home and chill. But Vilde makes the point that Linn is depressed and doesn’t want to do anything, and it’s their job to make sure she does stuff. Which is actually very astute of Vilde. Speaking as someone who has dealt with depression, people can definitely go overboard in trying to help. Like everything, there’s a balance: you should respect the wishes of someone with depression and not think you know better than they do about how to handle their mental illness. But it’s also good to have people who want to check in on you and pull you out of your shell. Not to mention, you know, this is additional foreshadowing for the importance of mental health issues this season. 

Also let’s note that Vilde knows this probably because of her mom’s own issues, that she realizes she needs to give her mom a push sometimes. Sure, she really wants Isak to host that party. But she’s also speaking from experience. (The execution of Magnus/Vilde is annoying but in the bare bones of them, they’re both naive/silly characters who are harder to take seriously on a surface level but have a lot of hidden wisdom and maturity about certain issues.)

But Vilde also thought Even was a psychopath so she’s not perfect about mental illness, either. 

There’s a gifset of Vilde talking during this scene juxtaposed with Isak staring at her blankly and it’s one of my favorite gifsets ever. 

I will never stop laughing about how Isak just gives in to whatever Vilde asks of him.

Vilde texts him afterwards about the party and he gives one-word answers that are about as enthusiastic as his texts to Emma.

It’s freaky how much Isak is able to switch on his cool straight guy persona. Just a minute ago he was all frazzled by a battle with his locker and then losing a battle about hosting the party to Vilde, and now he’s going to be all Smooth Charming Totally Digs Girls Isak.

Lol, I’ll say this, it’s a pretty good transformation. Once he gets going I don’t see any cracks in the facade even knowing that he’s struggling internally. 

Even in his apology where he calls himself an asshole, he manages to neg her, kinda. Or whatever you’d call it with that little twist at the end implying he’s got another “cute girl” and Emma. It’s a joke but damn, fake Isak is such a little shit.

I didn’t really notice before but Isak is a little similar to Even here, getting Emma to loosen up by his big talk and charm, kind of like how Even breaks through to Isak with his story about Sonja’s aluminum leg later on. Though Isak is using a truthful story to move forward with his fake interest in Emma, and Even uses a false story to move forward with his real interest in Isak.

This clip ends on such a superficially lighthearted note but it doesn’t make you feel good. Instead it creates this sensation of dread.

This scene is so frustrating because like … Isak could have let this thing with Emma die after he canceled on her pre-drink. Sure, he would have had a first-year girl who didn’t like him, but big deal, in the scheme of things. Or he could have just apologized to her with no flirtation, been upfront about not wanting to take this thing with them further. But he creates an additional problem here by stoking Emma’s interest again. You can see this crashing and burning from a mile away.

Clip 4 - Hello dance chicks

This dance routine goes on too long, lmao, like this lasts more than a minute. Which, to be fair, is probably how it feels when you’re a closeted gay boy having to look at dancing girls because your friends like the view. But it’s also kinda like someone on the crew was like, “Hey Julie, would it be cool if we showcase my cousin and her dance team in this clip?” and Julie was too polite to say no. (This is not actually what I think happened, for the record.)

As noted in the script, this is another instance of Isak trying to make himself feel something, some bit of attraction to these physically fit, tightly-clothed girls, but all he can get out of it is fixation on weird details like the size of one girl’s hands. 

“Did he have to be so gay?” Isak, no. Don’t do this.

This is a direct consequence of crap like “the gay test” that fixates on stereotypes and maintaining a masculine image. It’s really sad that we see Isak try to promote this stuff when he’s raw with insecurity over it.

Also, dude, legit no one in your squad cares about whether that guy is gay. They’re all preoccupied with salivating over girls in activewear.

Later on in the episode we’ll hear Even criticize the act of making generalizations against gay people, something that Isak himself is doing here: generalizing that people who act like that must be gay and generalizing that people who are gay act like that. Like Emma claiming that her generalization isn’t a problem because it’s not negative, Isak tries to defend his comment once Jonas calls him on it by saying that he’s not “dissing” him but merely pointing out a fact. A very weak argument when the comment starts with Isak complaining about the guy being too gay.

Shoutout to Marlon’s utterly baffled face when Isak pulls this shit out of nowhere. It is very ironic that Jonas did encourage some of Isak’s insecurity in S1 with his comments about gay songs and going along with OG Elias’ gay jokes, but now Jonas seems to have matured beyond that behavior between seasons, and Isak, the actual gay guy, is the one left behind, struggling with internalized homophobia. 

Also, whether or not Jonas suspects Isak is gay at all at this point, it’s good that he called out his friend for saying some offensive crap. A lot of guys would laugh along or let the comment pass unchecked. S1 Jonas didn’t call out Elias and even acted like Isak was unreasonable for being upset. S3 Jonas is one hell of an upgrade on that front.

Lol, if you didn’t like Jonas in S1, S3 is his redemption arc. I was biased because I came into S1 having seen part of S3, so I knew Jonas was going to turn out to be an awesome dude. But it is really striking how the alternating POV structure can reveal different sides to characters, and Jonas is one of the characters with possibly the biggest differences revealed. Eva’s season shows Jonas at his worst; Isak’s season shows Jonas at his best. Some of that is definitely getting a year between them to account for Jonas’ increased maturity, and some of it is just being able to know Jonas in the context of a romantic relationship vs. in the context of a friendship.

Jonas mentions that Isak has been grouchy, because Jonas pays attention to his best bro’s well-being, because he cares!! So damn much!!

Mahdi is still checking out the girls and not paying a lick of attention to this Isak-Jonas argument when Even walks up, by the way. 

GODDAMMIT HENRIK, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO TALL

It burns me up inside that Even was wearing the snapback before he throws it to Isak and we didn’t get to see it. Because Henrik is a long, long man. Well, mostly because Julie shot it at that angle.

On the other hand, the angle works really well to create more tension in the scene. Even is towering over Isak and the other boys. His presence is sudden and big. He’s the looming problem that Isak can’t ignore. Isak is sitting down, off-guard. Not only is Even suddenly dominating this moment that was between Isak and his friends, he and Isak are literally not on the same level, both physically and in their interaction. As helpfully pointed out in the script, “Isak doesn’t understand shit about what just happened.”

In the script, Even not only is wearing the snapback, but he sticks it on Isak when he returns it, and like, I can see why that might be considered too much (and Isak immediately panics and takes it off in the script) but god DAMN do I want to see footage where they tried it this way. 

Lmao, so did Even know where to find Isak? Or was he wandering around the school with Isak’s hat, hoping to run into him? Or wearing it just because he liked having Isak’s hat on his head?

How much do you want to bet that Isak left the snapback behind because he was desperate to get out of Even’s apartment and away from the Even/Sonja makeout session as fast as possible? 

Even, on the other hand, was probably glad to have the hat as an excuse to talk to Isak again.

This scene could have gone very differently had Even found Isak alone instead of with the boy squad. Or, looking at it another way, did Even intentionally approach Isak when he wasn’t alone in order to nullify some of the tension from the situation? Because, even apart from Sonja’s appearance, there was some serious chemistry happening on Friday, I’m sure Even fell harder for Isak than he’d even expected. But his relationship with Sonja hangs between them. Maybe he thought having other people there would make the vibe less fraught. You underestimated how much Isak does not want his bros to know, Even. 

The way the atmosphere changes when Even walks in … you can feel Isak’s blood freeze. He just watches Even toss the snapback to him with no effort to catch it because he’s too shocked by what’s happening. He’s so panicked he can come up with absolutely no lies to salvage this situation.

Even is bouncing a little after he approaches Isak, which seems to be a nervous gesture for him. He might seem like the cool confident dude, and sure, Even is often confident and makes the first moves in his pursuit of Isak. But he’s also got a lot of deep-rooted vulnerability. If something happens with Isak … it’ll mean he has to end things with Sonja, a person who has seen Even at his lowest points and still accepts him, cutting off a relationship that has been a source of stability and support despite its serious flaws. And it’ll mean taking a chance on a new person who might not be so okay with the parts of himself Even hates the most.

Even, bless him, reads the tense situation without Isak saying anything. Even though they’re not on the same page, Even can at least tell that Isak is hiding something from his friends. This is one of those early moments that made me really like him - how easily and quickly he can read the room and especially what Isak is feeling, and can act quickly to help him out, similar to how Even handles Emma wanting to pair off with Isak at kosegruppa. He’s a very perceptive person. And he throws out a lie for Isak very casually and shrugs it off and walks away.

Isak is very confused by this encounter, and with scenes where Isak has no idea what’s happened I like to consider Even’s unseen side of the story (to be fair, I like to consider that for ... pretty much all scenes). So I’m trying to imagine what Even wanted or expected from this moment. This is the first scene where he’s interacting with Isak after a life-changing Friday afternoon where they got to know each other and fell hard for each other. That meeting ended with Even’s long-term girlfriend came by, bringing a cold dose of reality to this magical afternoon. So what does Even think will happen when he finds Isak again? What does he hope will happen?

I think from Even’s POV, this certainly wasn’t what he wanted to happen the next time he spoke to Isak. Isak was very clearly not happy with Even’s presence in that moment, which is never a great feeling. But if Even turned this moment over in his head - what was that all about? - he would have to consider that Isak was hiding something from his friends, specifically that he hung out with Even on Friday. So why didn’t Isak want to tell them? What’s so objectionable about two guys randomly hanging out and smoking weed together? Because if there wasn’t anything to hide, why couldn’t Isak just say, “Oh, thanks for returning my hat, hey guys, this is Even?” So then Even would run through the possibilities. Maybe Isak had other plans with these guys, and he bailed on them. But then why did he bail? Because he didn’t want to hang with them, or because he really wanted to hang with Even? Orrrrr …. Was there something else to that afternoon that Isak feels he can’t tell his friends about, and if so, what was that?

IDK, if I were in Even’s shoes, I would be analyzing the hell out of what just happened trying to pick out some meaning from it. And I think while I might be really hurt and disappointed in the moment, when I had been semi-rejected by Isak, if I thought about it further, I might feel a spark of hope over Isak’s reaction. Because maybe this feeling isn’t one-sided. Maybe that afternoon had more significance to Isak than just a fun hangout.

Of course this is all assuming Even is like me and obsesses over the little details of a confusing social interaction. He might have just thought, “Time to try again!” and started picking out the perfect outfit for Friday. We don’t get any clues between this scene and Even showing up at the party to tell us what he might have been thinking. 

The script makes it clear that Jonas remembers that Isak was wearing the snapback when they left the school on Friday, therefore realizing that Even was lying. Let’s applaud Jonas’ observational skills because tbh, I would not remember what hat my friends were wearing last week unless it was super out of the ordinary. I guess if one of them were borrowing my own hat I might mentally keep track of it? Still, Jonas is killing it this season with recognizing stuff’s up with Isak.

Isak and Jonas share clothes and I love it, by the way 💛💛💛

Isak calling Even “just some revue nerd from Vilde’s group” stings, man. I know he is obviously lying and Even is already so much more to him, but I’m glad Even wasn’t around to hear that. Like Isak dismissing Even that way is painful on Isak’s part, too. If only Even was “just some revue nerd” Isak wouldn’t be feeling like shit.

Honestly, bless Magnus for interrupting this miserable scenario with his weird-ass BDSM dreams. If ever there was a time where you needed your goofball friend to start talking about getting tied up and punished with a whip, this is it.

Some of Isak’s reaction to Magnus’ story seems like Tarjei laughing at his friend David delivering these ridiculous lines and some of it seems like he and Jonas can’t help but look at each other all are you hearing this shit and at one point it seems like Isak casts a look at Jonas as if to be like so are we done with the topic of gay people and my bad attitude and the revue nerd now? Are you distracted enough to forget it for now? Are we cool?

That whole moment with Even happened so quickly, you know that it was one of those incidents that goes by fast and is hard to process while it’s occurring. But as we later learn, it stuck with Jonas for a while.

So far, Isak has lied or taken part in a lie in every single clip this week: his mom’s “stress,” the gay test (lying to himself or trying to figure out how to live a lie), lying to Vilde about why he can’t host the party, lying to Jonas about who Even is and when Even got his snapback.

Clip 5 - Neon pre-game

This was the first Skam clip I ever saw!

The clip popped up in my recommendations on YouTube, and I was pulling an Isak and messing around on my laptop late at night, so I decided to watch. I fully expected to watch for a minute and then switch to something else, but no, this one clip had me hooked.

I know this is just like, a fun party theme where all the kids can get dressed up in wacky wigs and bright colors, but I think there’s something to both this scene and the 21:21 clip in the next episode that the setting is out of the ordinary and that allows the flirtation between Isak and Even to escalate.  In this clip, it’s a party, the lights are turned down, everyone’s dressed unusually. Things are already out of the norm. It’s because things aren’t ordinary that this situation with Isak and Even can be pushed a little farther. It’s when the lights are low and everyone’s dancing with painted faces that Isak and Even can lock eyes while they’re kissing girls because it’s something off from their usual reality. When the lights come up and the music’s off and everyone’s grabbing their coats to leave and go back into the rest of the world, breaking the spell, and Even levels that stare at Isak - that’s too real, that makes Isak look away. But it’s that slightly surreal, slightly dreamy vibe that allows for Isak and Even to take a step forward.

I love seeing Linn dressed up and socializing! Vilde was right, she needed a push.

Chris is here, but not Kasper, which is probably just due to actor availability since he’s mentioned in the script. It would have been nice to get some more insight into that relationship and especially what ended it, since we get so little of Chris’ inner life. I mean, Vilde/Magnus is also a “joke” relationship in a lot of respects and we still got more of a clue of why they might have something genuine besides a shared interest in TMI.

The script had Jonas calling Isak and Isak presumably ignoring him, a detail that is left out of the final clip. Jonas does mention that he tried to call Isak in a clip next episode, though.

Notice we open the dialogue with Isak asking Emma what music she likes, aka the question that Even asked him on Friday. Which is a common enough icebreaker, but I don’t think these facts are unrelated! Like I realize Isak has dating experience but really Isak takes a lot of cues from Even in navigating a real romantic relationship, little things that come up later on. And also, as much as Isak might be trying to be straight, trying to make it work with Emma, his mind is clearly drifting back to that afternoon with Even. How right it must have felt compared to this thing with Emma or with other girls, and how, maybe without even thinking about it much, he’s referring back to his interaction to Even as a model of how to flirt.

Lmao I mean, Justin Bieber ain’t my favorite musical artist either, but I feel like Isak’s reaction to Emma being a fan is so typical of dudes. I will give Emma some credit, she laughs off his teasing and doesn’t get too insecure about his comments, at least not visibly. And when he asks her about ‘90s hip-hop she admits she doesn’t know much about it instead of pretending to (ISAK).

Isak also sounds like a typical dude when talking about his musical tastes to Emma. However, Isak suddenly being an expert on Nas is the funniest shit ever. Emma, let me tell you all about the greatest musical artist ever, who I learned about a week ago! Tarjei plays this moment really well because I kinda cringed and I also laughed really hard.

It also shows that, even with Isak taking gay tests and trying to flirt with Emma this week, he found time to research and listen to Nas, someone important to Even.

In the script Vilde throws herself at Even into a hug when he enters and then it’s mentioned that “Vilde awkwardly greets Sonja,” which is kind of a random detail. I guess the awkwardness comes from Vilde launching herself too enthusiastically into a hug at Even in front of his girlfriend? Was Vilde supposed to be kinda thirsty for Even, thinking he was a single dude and wanting to get with someone (out of jealousy at her friends hooking up)?

The script also has Isak deliberately ignore Even when he tries to say hi, which wouldn’t have worked with the positioning of the actors in this scene, but it’s obviously colder than what we get here.

Looking ahead to S4, I’m still on the fence about how much Julie really thought about the Sana-Even connection - there are things that make me think she did plan it to a degree, there are things that seem retconned - but I’ve never thought this moment of Sonja introducing herself to Sana has to be a big inconsistency with Even and Sana knowing each other. All he had to do was tell Sonja beforehand that Sana would be at the party and that he didn’t want to call attention to the fact that they knew each other before he went to Nissen, and she probably would have agreed to play along like they were strangers.

I think Emma placed Isak’s hand on her boob because he momentarily stopped paying attention to her by looking at Even. But I don’t think she realized why he stopped paying attention to her.

Emma: “My bra will be bothering me until I can TAKE IT OFF I mean just a suggestion really it’d be so welcome to get out of it ha ha ha.”

I was going to laugh and say Isak could not look less interested in touching Emma’s boob but then I took another look at Tarjei’s face and remembered that Isak is supposed to be forcing himself to be turned on by girls, and mentally he was probably thinking okay, here’s your chance, focus and suddenly it got a lot less funny.

Jesus Lord, that look Even sends Isak from across the room while draping his jacket over his shoulder. While clad in that tight white T-shirt. He means business. No mystery at all why Isak takes that moment to gulp down his beer and start making out with Emma. This is certainly a challenge Isak is undertaking for himself, trying to be straight, but it’s also a fuck-you to Even (and not in the way Even wants). Hey Even, we flirt all afternoon and then your girlfriend comes in? Then you bring her to my apartment and give me that look across the room? Well, fuck you, I’m not dealing with your mixed signals now.

There is such a clear difference between when Isak makes out with girls versus when he kisses Even. With Emma here (and with Sara in S2) you can see how calculated it is; the way Isak rubs his hands over her back, the way he tilts his head in a coordinated way, the length of the kisses. It feels entirely like a performance with those girls, like there’s something cerebral about it, his mind is working on how to make it seem real from the outside. When Isak eventually kisses Even, it just seems like he’s … not thinking. Or maybe he’s thinking, but not because he’s trying to perform. With Even, Isak just wants to kiss him. He’s not worried about making it look good, he’s concentrated on how good it feels, and he’s just reacting on instinct with what his body wants. 

I would pay to see a version of this scene where Even plops down on the sofa and Emma is like, “Endre, Isak was just telling me about Nas, he says he made the best album of all time!”

Also, it wouldn’t have worked with Isak’s POV, but don’t you wish we could have seen Even’s face when he noticed Isak had his hand on Emma’s boob, and especially when Isak broke their loaded eye contact to make out with Emma? Like can you imagine on Even’s end, when he’s kind of still in that conversational bubble with Sonja and Vilde, how he burst out of it? OK GOTTA BLAST BYEEEEEEE

And then he launches across the room like he’s auditioning for The Flash.

“I’m starting to think you’re bonding too much” Subtle, Even.

“I thought we were a team?” SUBTLE.

Even does do an admirable job of trying to seem cheerful and not possessive or jealous, but you can see him deflate a little once he shakes Isak’s shoulder and compliments his apartment and Isak is just not having it, and meanwhile Emma gets to lean in to Isak taking advantage of that proximity. 

Lmao, can you imagine if these three actually attempted to bake bread or whatever for kosegruppa? All the passive-aggressiveness and competing for Isak’s attention, and Isak wanting to sink into the floor? I’ll say it again, I will never not feel a little cheated that we didn’t get more actual kosegruppa shenanigans.

It’s kinda funny that Emma is raving about Eskild considering they could have met only like an hour or so ago. And already she’s like “HE’S GAY, LIFE OF THE PARTY!”

Shout out to Eskild, Linn, and Chris’ dancing though. Loves of my life right there.

Even is honestly a very nice person, I think kindness is one of his defining qualities, but man, he does not care for Emma. Though even when he’s calling her out on her generalizing about gay people, he’s not being excessively rude to her? He’s not calling her homophobic or ignorant or anything, he’s just challenging her and explaining to her why it’s offensive. And he’s justified in doing so anyway, it’s not like he targeted her over something stupid. What she’s saying affects him as a pansexual person.

Actually, Emma harboring generalizations about gay people is perhaps part of why she didn’t consider that the boy turning down a blowjob from her and giving her mixed messages might be gay. He’s not ~hilarious and fitting into her ideas about gay people. To be clear, I’m not trying to put all the blame on her, because Isak is also randomly making out with her and encouraging her crush on him, too. But she’s just got a limited view of gay people and their experiences, as evidenced by other stuff later in the season.

Man, the way Isak’s head turns when Even calls Emma out on using superficial generalizations. This conversation is just what he needed to hear at this moment. That his paranoia over stuff like the gay test, his criticisms of the dance instructor for seeming too gay, all of that crap, are wrong. They’re inaccurate. Just because he likes guys does not mean Isak has to be this way or that way. That he can be an individual rather than having to cram himself into boxes that don’t fit. That if he identifies as gay, it doesn’t mean that everyone can sum up his existence by that one adjective. And he’s hearing it from exactly the best person who could say it at this moment: the guy he likes. Imagine what a relief it is to know not only that Even doesn’t buy into this bullshit, but also that he will vocally speak out against it. And you know that Isak is also wondering more about whether Even is not straight based on this conversation because it sounds like Even has given this topic a lot of thought.

Also when Emma is objecting to Even’s comments, she turns back to Isak, maybe for reinforcement, or maybe because she doesn’t want to lose an argument in front of him, and he quickly lowers his gaze, because he doesn’t want to seem too interested in what Even is saying. But of course Isak is intensely interested. Emma isn’t even quite in focus in some of these shots. It’s all Isak zeroing in on Even’s perspective.

Even also uses the “All Muslims are terrorists” example as a comparison, and it was one of the moments that people took as potential evidence that Even had an interest in Islam and possibly knew Sana. After S4, we know that this example is personal to him because his best friends were Muslims and experienced the harm from those generalizations.

Additionally, if you consider that Even had a suicidal episode prior to this season that had something to do with shame over liking boys, this is quite a bit of self-reflection to have gained in the meantime. I’m not sure we ever learn exactly when Even’s suicide attempt took place (like what month and exactly how much school he missed)? But in the period between the suicide attempt and S3, Even appeared to have gained a lot of acceptance about his sexuality.

As I said above, this is the first Skam clip I ever saw, and this moment right here, with Even and Emma talking on the couch, was the one that really grabbed my attention. I was impressed with this part because it seemed to have more nuance and maturity than a lot of similar takes on homophobia - I feel like a lot of shows sometimes still don’t get that positive generalizations are still generalizations? And I definitely feel like many shows’ characters wouldn’t have a discussion about it. 

And for what it’s worth, I really liked Even after this exchange and it’s one of many moments that made it harder for me to think that he was two-timing or using Isak. This seemed very genuine and thoughtful, and like he was someone who had strong investment in the topic. 

Not to drag Emma too much again, but her calling this conversation “boring” is something that makes me, well, less than fond of her. In fact I find her calling this conversation boring and flouncing away a lot worse than making a generalization about gay people in the first place. Because people do say offensive things out of ignorance; Isak certainly says his fair share of crap regarding gay people this season. But people can also be educated about these points. For instance, Isak takes Eskild’s Pride speech seriously. It’s that Emma doesn’t take Even’s comments seriously that’s bad. That she doesn’t want to confront that she may be perpetuating harmful ideas. I don’t expect her to fall over herself apologizing but this conversation has not permeated her brain at all. This isn’t a “boring” conversation to Isak, who is gay, and who needs this conversation at the moment. The fact that Emma can call it boring and walk away is some massive straight privilege. I don’t want to demonize her too much because she is only like 16, but yeah, girl is very ignorant about LGBT issues. 

HERE WE GO, ANOTHER ICONIC S3 MOMENT.

I never really noticed but at the beginning of Call Your Girlfriend, when we’re watching Isak bop along (adorably), you can see Even’s neon bandanna at the side of the frame, out of focus. It reminds me a lot of shots where we are firmly in Isak’s POV, such as in the Talk Show Host courtyard walk, where part of Isak’s head is at the side of the frame out of focus, almost like we’re watching over his shoulder, or directly seeing through his eyes. So this moment in Call Your Girlfriend, whether intentional or not, almost seems like we’re watching through Even’s eyes as he looks at Isak dancing. It doesn’t work perfectly, since Isak eventually looks off to the side at Even (and not at the camera) but I like to think of Even watching Isak as he danced with Emma, turning back to Sonja a moment before Isak looked over at Even.

So I love the Evak nose rubs as much as anyone, that’s their special thing, but Even does it here to Sonja as they’re dancing. My headcanon is going to be that Isak saw this and deliberately instigated it with Even in the bed scene as a way of making it theirs. I really think Isak takes a lot of cues from Even, as mentioned earlier, more than he realizes consciously.

Also, while I think Even making out with Sonja at the end of S2 was for Sonja’s benefit, in this scene I think a lot of the Even/Sonja making out is a performance for Isak. Which is not really fair to Sonja, but well, there you go. Even saw Isak making out with Emma, he suspects it was for show (if nothing else he knows Isak was not enthused to be in a kosegruppa group with Emma and so his interest probably isn’t genuine), and this is his way of saying two can play that game.

never 4get the iconic script line by Julie in reference to Isak’s dancing, “lol Tarjei”

THIS SONG, by the way. This song is a jam anyway but talk about those completely on-point lyrics.

This is one of those diegetic music moments where the characters are listening to the music inside the scene. What makes it work so damn well is because Even knows this song and is deliberately making eye contact with Isak at the most apropos lyrics. You can’t tell me otherwise. It’s not just the soundtrack coincidentally happening to sync up and be lyrically relevant for the viewers, it’s the song syncing up within the scene itself, at the party - that would be loaded enough, but Even is also putting on a show for Isak here. There’s a reason he turns Sonja in place and looks at Isak exactly at the line “and now it’s gonna be me and you.” Yeah, I know I’m with her, Isak, and I know you’re with her, but I feel you looking at me, and I’m gonna look back. 

I mean Even, Gabrielle’s #1 fan, knows how to communicate meaningfully via pop songs to the object of his affection.

Possibly my favorite part is right after that scorching eye contact, when you can see Isak has just been struck to the core by Even looking at him, and then he closes his eyes and goes back to kissing Emma. Because you know he’s imagining he’s kissing someone else.

I feel bad for Sonja and Emma here but at least they remained happily oblivious to the boys eye-fucking each other across the room while making out with them. 

There’s not enough Eva in this season so let’s appreciate how gosh darn cute she is with her yellow hair bow.

Also Sana is so precious with her face paint and dimples!

How did Isak not burst into flames when Even looked across the room at him like that? The most smoldering look of the clip, for my money. That is the gaze of a man who knows what (who) he wants and is not shy to show it. Also note Isak quickly looking away and then “surreptitiously” back to Even a moment later, when Even has looked away and is deciding to play it more cool.

Emma touches Sonja’s teeth which is kind of weird, although Sonja does have very nice teeth! But I mean, even my close friends probably wouldn’t just touch my teeth for fun, let alone someone I just met. I assume this was something to do with the blacklight? Sonja’s teeth were very bright in the dark? Or else Emma is interested in amateur dentistry.

Lmao when Emma suggests Isak take a taxi with her, Sonja, and Even, you can imagine that is the absolute last scenario Isak would enjoy right now, Emma trying to get into his pants and Even mentally undressing him while Sonja is right there.

Here we goooooooo with another memorable Evak kitchen scene! Julie sure loves to have people flirt in kitchens, huh.

Guys, I got butterflies watching this scene. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen it, but part of me is still like are they going to kiss????

“Didn’t you take a taxi with the others?” “I have a bike.” Lmao I don’t believe that.

I can FEEL the tension coming off the screen. Like I can imagine everything Isak is feeling here. The nerves, the attraction, the pull toward Even. Trying to fight it, trying to maintain some detachment.

You can imagine Isak’s heart beating so fast. SHIT Even is right here, in his personal space, they’re alone together.

Even asks about Isak having a good time with Emma - funny because we all know, and he knows, that Isak just made out with Emma while staring at Even. It’s a joke, an inquiry that would seem harmless except for the massive irony. Also not a joke because Even really is kind of jealous and Isak plays off his comment. No matter if they’re aware of this thing between them, Isak is still making out with someone other than Even and it stings.

The acting here is so so SO good. Isak is like “why are you telling me about this” when Even starts talking about Sonja, he’s cautious, he’s trying not to give himself away. Meanwhile Even is trying to find a way to break through to Isak. He’s trying to communicate that he doesn’t want to be with her, but that it’s complicated. And when Isak is not having it, he switches to making an outlandish joke about it. Both of them communicate these shifts so well with their microexpressions, body language, tone of voice, etc.

There’s so much delicious subtext in this scene! This is one of Skam’s strengths - we know what’s going on in this scene, they don’t need to spell it out for us with lots of straighforward expository dialogue because the strength of the acting, the pacing, and the carefully chosen dialogue tells us everything we need to know. On a very instinctive level, we can tell when Isak becomes more on edge or when he lowers his guard; we can tell when Even decides he needs to try a new tactic in getting through to Isak.

Even and Sonja’s relationship is pretty complex even if we don’t get many glimpses at it up close and personal - you have to take a lot of it in bits and pieces, based on what Even says, what Sonja says, what Isak sees. I think they really needed to break up whether or not Isak was in the picture, but the thing is, I can completely understand why Even feels he can’t break up with her. She’s the one who stood by him through his episodes, throughout a terrible point of his life, and he probably feels like he owes her or that it’s wrong to leave her after all that. Adding to that, she’s one of the most stable factors in his life - after losing his friends, having to change schools, having to repeat his final year, dealing with manic/depressive episodes, etc. And because Sonja calls the shots, she’s someone he can rely on. He’s used to her taking control and telling him what’s real and not real. He’s got so much insecurity about his mental illness and he’s used to Sonja for support, so you can imagine how it’d be hard to cut himself off from her judgment. How is he supposed to stand on his own? She’s his aluminum leg.

Again, Even thinking quickly on his feet, spinning this ridiculous yarn about Sonja’s aluminum leg. He really gets into it! And this dumb story does melt the tension so beautifully, so kudos to Even for being a giant weirdo.

That is a damn fine delivery by Tarjei on Isak’s confused “What?” Precious.

As has been analyzed many times, Even’s story about Sonja’s aluminum leg is not really about his girlfriend’s fake prosthetic limb. He’s talking about himself and his bipolar disorder. She’s doing a lot better now (Even is doing a lot better after his manic/depressive episodes at Elvebakken and his suicide attempt). She’s gotten a lot of help from physiotherapists (Even has presumably been to some mental health specialists. Although it would be nice to know this for certain! Something I always wanted more of - info on Even’s mental health treatment plan.) You can hardly see she limps (Even seems like a swaggering confident young man and at first glance you would not be able to see his mental health struggles or vulnerabilities).

Notice how Even moves in subtly closer to Isak after Isak’s clued in on the joke, and that the camera zooms in a bit as well, making us feel the distance closing. I think even Isak notices and needs a second to adjust (after Even says he could’ve joked about something way worse, he kind of sputters out a reply, which could be disbelief or could also be him taking a second to re-calibrate with Even RIGHT THERE OMG).

This is how you do on-screen chemistry. Tarjei and Henrik are really feeding off each other, responding to each other’s movements and eye contact, making this conversation seem natural.

Regarding Even’s comment about Sonja having a dick and that this would be way too far to joke about - I definitely get why this comment would bother people. I think part of the joke is that Even is quite fine with dick and “going too far” is ironic when Even keeps joking about dick and balls, including making a blowjob joke within seconds of his first conversation with Isak. Their reactions make it clear that talking about dick is a lot more charged when there’s all this sexual tension floating around in the kitchen. But the comment is somewhat jarring and is worded in an unfortunate way that’s close to common transphobic arguments.

Isak not being able to look at Even at this point slays me. He tries it for a second but quickly looks back down. Even is too close, Isak is too attracted to him, this tension between them is too thick, Even’s girlfriend is too much of an obstacle and it’s too hard to think about how Even can’t break up with her, and all his plans for this week about how to get turned on by Emma, how to act straight, are unraveling so fast because this thing with Even is too real. It’s too much.

And when Isak says Sonja’s name it’s palpable how much this situation upsets him. Sonja is very sweet and cute. She’s Even’s very nice girlfriend who he can’t dump. No matter if they’re flirting and there’s all this tension, she’s the elephant in the room. It’s like it’s the fact that Isak is clearly struggling and not even able to look at him that makes Even decide to kiss him, because he knows what it means. Show him it’s not about Sonja anymore. My heart hurts at how resolutely Isak keeps his head down, even when Even moves in for the kiss.

Can I just say I love the sound effects in this scene? Or rather, lack thereof? I think you can hear the door unlocking at one point, for Noora, but otherwise the silence, just their breathing, every inch they move, all of that is so perfect. Like this is all being laid bare, it’s hard to hide anymore when it’s just the two of them and there are no distractions.

I adore Julie’s bit in the script about Isak looking down at the hole in the sock. ADORE IT. I can completely see it even if it’s not physically shown on screen. I know it’s mostly to get Tarjei into Isak’s mindset but damn that bit is so perfect. 

Though this is the part in the season where I’m like, OK, Even should’ve broken up with Sonja. Even though I completely get why he doesn’t from a character perspective! The previous episodes contained this nebulous getting-to-know-you phase where I can accept Even still being with Sonja to a degree even if there is some emotional cheating going on, even if he’s deliberately trying to get close to Isak. But trying to kiss someone? That’s when you need to decide if you want to call it quits with your old partner or pursue this new person. Although again, I get why he wanted to be REALLY FUCKING CERTAIN before he broke up with her, considering it’s not easy to end this relationship and the last time he made a move on a boy, things did not end well.

Imagine being a Norwegian Skam fan and following S2 and being obsessed with Noora’s story which is this national phenomenon, and then S3 starts and Noora’s just gone, not only out of focus but gone, out of the damn country, and you miss her and want to see her again, and maybe you’re not really keen on this Isak kid but after a few episodes you’re warming up to him and his budding romance with Even is really cute and you hope they get together and then there’s this scene packed full of sexual tension and they’re about to finally kiss and it feels like ages even though it’s only been like three weeks and that is when some jackass interrupts this almost-kiss and you’re going to murder whoever did it and that is when you get your beloved Noora back. I mean. A+ trolling, Julie.

What did Even think of Noora, anyway, with that look he shoots Isak? Just a general “who is this and why is she preempting our makeouts” or is he wondering if she’s Isak’s ex or something?

I think so much about what happened right after this scene! How awkward was Even’s leaving? It seems from the next clip (at the start of episode 4) that they talked about hanging out the next day? I wonder if that was supposed to be a text message or something that didn’t make it into the social media updates. Did Even go home by himself, or did he go find Sonja and the others? I’m not sure if that’s clear from the texts. What would have happened if Noora came home like a minute later, after they’d kissed - would Even have broken up with Sonja immediately or 

I used to wonder when Isak got Even’s phone number. For a while I thought he had Even listed as “Even Kosegruppa” in his phone because he got his number at the first kosegruppa meeting - that seems pretty early in their relationship, but it’s also the only period of time where he didn’t know Even’s full name, and it would have made sense to call him “Even Kosegruppa” seeing that’s the only context he knew him at that point. But it did seem strange to me that they would have exchanged numbers but Isak wouldn’t be shown freaking out over this, or Even wouldn’t have “casually” contacted Isak. So now I’m thinking they only exchanged numbers after this party scene, when they were tentatively making plans to hang out the next day. Tbh I could totally see Even putting himself as “Even Kosegruppa” in Isak’s phone to be funny. Because clearly this connection between them has escalated and there’s a joke in suggesting that Isak needs to be reminded how he knows Even - oh yeah, that guy from kosegruppa - when they both know it’s more than that. And Isak would of course never change it.

The song over the credits (”Lite og Stort” by No. 4) is about finding your way back home, which is literally Noora’s situation right now. I think the lyrics are specifically about “home” meaning Norway as a country? I’m going off the English translation, though, feel free to correct if I’m missing something. 

Anyway this scene hooked me. I was blown away by their acting in the kitchen scene, I was floored by the level of chemistry. Despite not knowing anything that came before this scene, I needed to have these characters kiss! And I loved the pacing and the dialogue, how natural it all felt. I distinctly remember thinking. “Now this is the kind of television I like to watch.”

General Comments:

This week has one of my favorite uses of social media, the “If you don’t remember her name in the morning take her to Starbucks” picture. It went up after the clip with the dance chicks. Utterly perfect deployment, Isak posting that right when he’s concerned about seeming straight. All performative, all BS.  

Isak lies to the guys about the party, claiming he’s going home to chill and do washing. Magnus even mentions that there’s a revue party happening but Isak fails to mention that he’s hosting it.

Emma messages Isak after she’s left the pre-drink asking him where he is and later drunk texts him telling him he’s great and wanting to go over and be with him at like 3 a.m. Isak, you dug that hole yourself.

Isak asks Emma how everything went after the neon pre-drink and Emma is like, “Sonja is so cool!” and immediately Isak is all “I have to go now.” Sonja’s awesomeness is not something he wants to hear about in detail.

I didn’t realize but there’s an IG post from Magnus on Friday showing Mahdi hooking up with a girl and Magnus calling himself a third wheel. I didn’t remember Mahdi ever hooking up on screen with anyone so I mean, I’m glad he got some during the show?

I own exactly one Funko Pop (Brienne of Tarth) and I know this would never happen outside of my dreams but I would kill for some Skam Funkos, particularly of the last clip of this episode, with Even’s white T-shirt and neon bandanna and Isak’s pink paint streaks and Illuminati shirt. Complete with Noora for that special cock-blocking authenticity.

This is a total tangent, but I’ve been looking up Baz Luhrmann stuff for these recaps and did you know that there’s a Moulin Rouge stage musical that literally just premiered? As in, yesterday, July 10? Starring Aaron Tveit as Christian? I have left my middle school Moulin Rouge obsession out of these recaps but I’m wondering how a live musical version is going to work. There’s a ton of it that would translate fine but then I feel like a Moulin Rouge without Baz Luhrmann giving you motion sickness with his wild-ass editing and cinematography is missing that special something.