#i actually do love the game which makes this anni feel like a slap to the face. lazy designs and not even new pokemon to pair them with? 💀

[souenkun]

Can't believe after the amount of shit talk that I did after this announcement, my dad pulled og steven from the ticket scout for me... the coincidence is insane lmao 😭

[radamazard]

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 6 - Entropy

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

Krook House QueerPlatonic Polycule - Modern Human AU

(Okay, so I was super stuck on this for a whileeeee. For the life of me I just couldn't think of anything for entropy… except for the MLP fan song for Discord. Soooo you're getting that. The song’s a bop anyway~

Also, I've decided now that any Modern Human AU I write for this is just a prototype for the biiiig Bells Hells / Crown Keepers Modern Human AU that I wanna write. It's good practice to get used to writing them all human and outta the canon universe~

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy!)

“You tried so hard to make a hero outta me, but there are some rules I don't obey… and I just wanna cause a little chaos and entropy~♪”

Fuck, now it was gonna be stuck in his head for WEEKS. Everyone knew that when you started singing the damn song absentmindedly, that it meant you were bound to have it bore into your brain and hibernate there for the next fortnight and a half at LEAST.

Which was gonna be hellish, but hey, it could have been worse. Anni could have heard hi-

“Fuckin’ knew it was you!”

Speak of the devil. Or in this case one of his ‘beloved’ partners, who right now seemed to be screaming to be thrown out a window. Defenestrated, if they wanted to get fancy and earn a few brownie points from Letters. ‘Learning is always important!’ after all.

“Do we gotta do this shi-”

“dO wE gOtTa DO tHiS sHiT~? Fuck yes we gotta, I heard your ass singing pony shit, and it's my duty and right to tease the ever loving fuck outta ya!” Anni grinned, the edges of it taking on just a hint of malice, yet only a teasing way. As much as the two bickered and bitched about one another, there was a lotta love there, and neither of them actually wished any harm on the other… nor would they wanna cause it.

Teasing and being a casual dick though? That was fair game.

“When a track slaps, it slaps. I don't control the rate at which shit slaps, An,” Ashton argued in turn, and ignored the pointed eye roll he received in turn. Hey, if she wanted to fight them on this then she'd have to do all the heavy lifting.

“Maybe, but you DO have enough of a brain left in there to still have good taste, right?”

“Low blow,”

“No lower than your shit taste in music.”

“Least it ain't as low as your taste bud count. Lemon juice on spaghetti o’s? What the actual fuck?”

“Fuck you! You’ve just got the taste buds of a five year old!”

“Better the taste buds than the IQ.”

“You callin’ me a dumb bitch?”

“Never a bitch! I'm a fuckin’ gentleman, Anni, you think I'd stoop that low? Am calling you dumb though.”

“Get fucked you sparkle horse loving cu-”

“What are you two fighting about this time?”

Both Anni and Ashton froze, already feeling the disapproving gazes of their partners upon them. Getting the look from just one of them was bad enough, but having both Letters and Milo stare at you like that had a certain silencing effect.

Especially when it was mixed with Milo’s rare ‘what the fuck is pulling me from my work’ tone of voice.

“Anni’s calling me a loser for liking pony songs, like the elitist prick musician she is.”

“Get stuffed!”

“With you? Nah. Gross.”

“I'd be offended if that feeling wasn't fully shared. Cause yeah. Gross.”

“... Is there something wrong with liking My Little Pony?”

Never had Anni gone from being a smug ass bitch to horrifically regretful so fast. The woman may have claimed to the world that nothing would ever make her take back anything she said, but one sad look from Letters… Man, the guilt had rarely kicked in so fast.

“Fuck. No… I was just-” Anni cringed, looking between Milo and Ashton for support. The former raised a brow at her from behind their coke bottle glasses, a hand now balanced upon their hip in a way that just screamed ‘You dug your own grave, find a way out.’

The latter brushed past her, coming to kneel beside Fresh Cut Grass’ wheelchair with only a slight wince of pain. He laid a hand over FCG’s own and offered it a reassuringly squeeze.

“Nah. The ponies are fine by me. And hey, Anni likes The Batchelor, so maybe she should shut the fuck up.”

“The Batchelor is a god damned mas- Right, fuck. Apologies.”

Anni had the decency to look guilty at least, kicking her heels as she gnawed at her lip anxiously. Apologies had never been her strong suit. Nor had any kind of intimacy. But for her partners she was willing to try. They deserved at least that.

“... Sorry. I was bein’ an ass. Just wanted to rile Ash up and didn't think shit through. You're free to like whatever the fuck you like. Cringe is dead and Ash and I personally shanked that bitch! It's flne for ya to like the pastel horses. But you ain't ever getting me to watch it, okay? I’d rather choke to death on actual horse cock,”

“Stunning visuals there as always, Anni.” Milo sighed.

“What can I say? I live to displease~”

“... Thanks, Anni. And Ashton,” FCG uttered quietly, smiling a little as they watched Anni’s cheeks burn and cough into her hand awkwardly. “Oh! What was the song you were singing, by the way? Let me guess!! Smile? No… I'm thinking it was a fan song, right? Oh! I know! Is it the one I showed you last night? Entropy?”

“Damn right it was Entropy! The fuckin’ thing is STILL in my head!”

Letters laughed, the sound as brightly infectious as ever. There was a round of chuckles and snickers, and by the time they all wandered off to do their own things each and every one of them was wearing a smile.

Damn was their good mood contagious.

Just like that dang song.

[dancingazaleas]

bertholdt hoover | mc donald’s

HELPLPPPP i love he 🥺 i love he so much

sorry if this was trash :-(( i was rlly sleepy when i wrote this. pls enjoy

warnings/notes: cursing, modern au, highschool au, bertholdt, reiner, marcel, and reader are seniors, porco is a junior, reader is marcel’s twin, bert is ambidextrous (my headcanon), hard pining, bert’s a music prodigy, female reader

when you meet him, it was at your house on a friday night.

porco and marcel had decided to have their obnoxious and messy friend group over at the house while your parents were away for the weekend doing god knows what.

you were just annoyed that your mom said their friends could come over.

it wasn’t that they were inheritaly bad people, it was just that they were overly loud and, somehow, always forgot to pick up their shit before they left. you’d always get your ass chewed out by your mom for it too.

you also hated going downstairs whenever they were there. if marcel or porco caught even a glimpse of you, they would pester you to play a round of super smash bros and wii sports with them and the group. whenever the two of them started to pester, usually reiner would join in until you would cave. reiner was annoying when it game to game nights.

so, you sat upstairs in your room trying to go to sleep and drown out their laughter and yelling, but you couldn’t. they were too fucking loud.

you texted both porco and marcel angrily, telling them ‘shut your fucking mouths i cant fucking sleep’. you concluded that they were too distracted to notice your texts when they continued to yell and laugh. you scoffed and decided that you’d just try to scroll through social media and rant to ymir over text.

30 minutes had passed and the group downstairs showed no signs of quieting down and you were starting to get hungry. so with a sigh, you made your way downstairs towards your kitchen with the intention of finding pizza flavored goldfish in mind.

you were glad you weren’t noticed when you passed by the living room, that meant no pizza flavored goldfish. you opened the door to the pantry only to find cereal, protein powder and bars, porco and marcel’s chips, and the food your mom and dad ate.

this meant they had used your food for this get together. you groaned loudly and slammed the door to the pantry shut. the echo of it immediately silenced the large group in the living room, which held your next homicide victims.

you stomped into the room, irritation written all over your face as you looked at your brothers, who were hugging each other in fear.

“first, you ignore my texts asking you to shut your big fucking mouths. then, you decided death when you chose to serve your friends my food.” the two teenage boys nodded wearily.

with a battle scream, you jumped over the coffee table and on top of them on the leather couch, fists swinging. they shrieked in fear, scrambling under your weight to get away as everyone else in the room laughed at the scene.

you sat on porco’s back, the main offender, and held his head up by digging your thumbs into the bones of his eyebrows.

“porco, if you want me off of your’s and marcel’s ass in the next week; you better drive me to fucking mc donald’s, get me food, and pay for it!!! deal?!” you shouted at him, kicking away the hand that was reaching around to shove you away.

he slammed him palm onto the couch two times, “okay, okay!!! deal!! now get your ass off of me!!!”

you let go of his face and got off of him, but not without giving him a hard slap to the side of the head.

reiner hooted and clapped his large hands together, “another wrestling victory for (name)!!!”

everyone laughed a little, and you did a little bow before plopping down next to pieck, a college student you met in junior year while she was a senior who you were actually quite close with.

“how do you always manage to get your ass kicked by (name) everytime we come here,” zeke, another friend you’d met in junior year while he was in his senior year, snickered at the misery of porco.

“ha ha,” porco gave a monotone laugh, “leave me alone old man.”

“porco, where’s my mc donalds,” you sang and watched marcel roll his eyes a little.

“(name), it’s 11 o’clock at night. i’m not going to get you fucking mc donalds,” porco snapped but cowered away when you made the slight movement of getting up onto your feet.

“bertholdt’ll drive ‘em!” reiner piped up and everyone turned to said bert.

you felt yourself getting flustered when you took a look at bertholdt. he was tall and lean guy cowering in the corner of your couch with dark red cheeks as he stared back at you. his hair was a dark brown and he had the prettiest light jade colored eyes with a hooked nose right between them.

“oh...,” you were stunned, which was a uncommon occurrence, and felt like it was just you and him, “yeah... i’m down. i don’t think we’ve met before.”

bertholdt gave a shy nod and stood up for the couch, and you noticed just how tall he was. before you could make a step towards him however, porco jumped to his feet and got between you.

“nope! changed my mind! get in the tr—,” you shoved him back onto the couch next to marcel, who had a small and gentle smile.

“bert’s gonna get some,” pieck teased with a giggle as she poked at your sides from her seat.

you laughed bashfully and slapped her hands away, telling bertholdt that you were ready to leave when he was. pieck seized her attacks when you followed after bertholdt when he made his way to your front door.

“don’t forget to use protection,” annie shouted nonchalantly, the whole room bursting into laughter.

after that, both you and bertholdt hurried to get out of the house and into his car.

which led you to now, sitting in the parking lot of the sketchy and dingy mc donald’s eating and talking.

“wait, so when reiner...,” you chew while laughing, “told you marcel had a twin, you thought it was a prank?”

bertholdt chuckles shyly and nods, “yeah. i just.. i never saw you around cause no one pointed you out when we were at school. reiner would do stuff like that ever since we were kids.”

you shake your head with a smile, “so, why’d you decide to transfer to titan high just a couple weeks ago?”

bertholdt thinks for a second, “better music program. reiner mentioned something about it to me once, so then i did my own research. titan has multiple opportunities for their students to get a chance at getting scholarships to prestigious universities for fine arts by competing. also, all my friends are here.”

your heart swells as the way bertholdt eyes shine as he speaks of the music program, so much that you forget to answer for a second.

“oh! so, what instrument do you play?”

“uhm... i play the cello, violin, viola, double bass,” he pauses, “i’m learning the harp, piano, lyre, and the guitar.”

you gape at him, “so you’re a prodigy?!”

he blushes and gives a small shrug, “i’ve never really considered myself as such... but i guess by definition i am.”

“th-then why the hell are you going to titan high?!”

“i still wanted to be a normal kid. my dad put me in public schools with decent music programs so i could still play. my favorites are the piano and the cello.”

“hold out your hand for a second,” you request, to which he obliges.

you take it into your own hand, eyes scanning over the palm of his massive hand. his fingers are worn and he has a writer’s bump on his middle finger despite it being his left hand. he has a bandaid on his pinky finger and the tips of his fingers are a flushed red as well as his knuckles. his nails are perfectly even and trimmed and you notice a scar on his thenar stretching to his radial longtitude crease. you run the tip of your finger over the scar, ignoring how bertholdt flinches at the contact.

bertholdt’s blushing and he feels like he’s going to pass out on the spot. the only other girls he’s been this close to were pieck, annie and his friend ymir, who all have girlfriends.

but then bertholdt feels the soft skin of your lips gently kissing at the scar on his hand with your eyes closed. his heart races and it feels like it’s beating out of his chest.

bert’s pretty sure he can see black dots in his vision.

you look him in the eyes now, “i know we haven’t known each other for that long, but you’re really beautiful, bert.”

bertholdt flushed cheeks turn pale as he faints.

[heyheydidjaknow]

I would’ve posted this earlier but, alas, I passed out early. This is a longer one, but tumblr got its act together so I can post it all in one part. You guys know where the other chapters are, and if you don’t, they’re at the end of the chapter. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go eat straight Nutella.

Chapter 10

“I’m thinking about getting some gloves.”

He looks over at you as he laces up his skates. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling slightly to yourself as you look your hands over, trying to imagine what they would look like. “Like, badass, fingerless gloves.”

He smiles. “Dude, those would look metal as fuck.”

“Totally, right?” Your smile widens. “With studs and shit.”

He gets to his feet, hopping onto the ice. “Hell yeah.” He drops a puck to assault as you go back to your backed-up coursework the best you can—your handwriting has gone to hell, but you are working with what you have.

You flinch at the crack of his stick, the cross of the T ending up underneath the letter somehow. A cheer from Casey tells you the rubber cylinder’s fate.

‘I swear I learned this.' You squint at the basic algebra, the pencil, crudely held in your fist, hovering over the packet. ‘Why can’t I do this?’

“How’s your pile coming along?” Another crack.

“It’s comin’.” You run your fingers through your hair. “Just… trynna remember how to do ne—… subtraction.” ‘Not debate. Negating is debate.’

He laughs. Another crack. “Man, that thing really fucked you over, huh?”

“Thoroughly.” You decide against continuing to torture yourself, having been at it for the past five hours—most of it in the library before Casey invited you to watch him practice some more— and set the large stack of homework back in your bag. “Are you actually making the shots?”

“Casey Jones doesn’t miss shots.” Another crack.

“Pardon me, oh almighty king of the ice.” You stand on your good leg, grabbing the side of the wall to watch as he went back to collect his pucks.

You two have managed to bond over a mutual respect/love of heavy metal and hockey and, seeing as you are staying out of the Hamatos’ hair for a while—not upon request, but out of courtesy—you have managed to spend a lot more time with him than you may have otherwise. Your school has not assigned Biology any big projects yet, so, until you are assigned it, you do not have anything other than your health to stress about.

“Pardon accepted.” You watch his form as he performs another slap shot.

“You…” you trail off, trying to remember what you were going to say.

“What?”

You shrug. “Dunno.” You lean your head on your arms. “I’ll remember eventually.”

He drops the second puck. “Got any plans after this?”

You sigh. “Nope. Probably gonna head home and try not to cut my fingers making dinner again.”

He takes another shot. “Then let’s go out after this. You and me.”

You smile. “What, don’t have any plans either?”

“Nah.” He drops the third. “Dad doesn’t care if I’m home late anyway.”

“True, true.” You have decided against prying into his home life; it is not your place and does not concern you in the slightest. “Where do you wanna go?”

“Wanna catch a movie? Heard there was this new pizza place just a couple blocks down if you wanna try to sneak it in.”

You snicker. “In the box and all?”

“Yes.” He grins mischievously and hits this one off the walls. Some way, somehow, it still makes it into the goal. “I bet your sweatshirt is big enough to stick the box under.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Not in the mood for burns on top of scars, Jones,” you reprimand him teasingly. “That just ain't it.”

“Then you can wear mine under that one and—”

“Your sweat-soaked hoodie you’ve been practicing in all day?” You cringe at the thought. “Over my dead body.”

“I mean…” he licks his teeth, smile widening, “it’s not exactly like you’re in the best—”

You laugh. “So not cool!”

He puts his hands up in defense, gliding over. “I mean, am I wrong, though?”

“That is completely besides the point, you ass.” You balance on your foot, crossing your arms. “Damn. Making fun of the girl with the broken leg.”

He leans against the wall. “Man, you were dying before the crash.”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, whatever, Jones.” You lean against your hand. “How’s Johanna,” you sing.

He presses his hand against your face, pushing you away. “Annie is doing fine.”

You grin, steadying yourself on the wall. “Do you feel her, Johanna?”

“I’m gonna tell her you call her that if you don’t quit it.”

“Do you think that walls can hide her? Even when you’re at her window?”

He pushed his arm all the way out. You hop back.

“Her name isn’t even Johanna.”

“But she is Johanna,” you whine in protest, not bothering to hide your mirth. “She has the hair, the voice, the disposition. She’s an ingénue and you know it.” You have been teasing him about this for a while now: the girl in question—Annabelle Halshaw, a year below you two—had caught his eye when he had heard through the grapevine that she was the lead singer in some indie band. When he had shown you a picture and told you the story, you insisted on calling her Johanna for her golden hair and soft, sweet singing voice he had proudly had you listen to.

“She’s not.”

You roll your eyes, sitting back down as you grab your bag. “Lie to yourself all you want,” you goad, “but deep down, you know in your heart that the truth,” you put a finger up, “is apparent.”

He hops off the ice, sitting next to you as he unlaces his skates. “Whatever.” He smirks. “How’s The Don?”

You avert your gaze. “I haven’t seen ‘im.”

“Boo.” He tied the laces together. “Some girlfriend you are,” he ribs.

You go red. “Not my boyfriend. Not even friends with benefits.”

“Yeah, sure.” He sets the skates into his bag. “That’s why you already know his family.”

“That—”

“And why you’ve had him over to your place.”

“If you don’t cool your tits, I’m telling Lucy you’re crushing on her friend.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“What,” you simper, “think I won’t?”

He grabs his bag. “If you do, I’ll show her that video.”

You laugh, following him out of the rink. “You’re the worst.” You note how strange it is that he spent so little time on the ice as you two walk out, but you do not say anything about it.

“Hey, you’re the one throwing threats around.”

“Yeah,” you argue, “but my threat is clearly better.”

He rolls his eyes, pushing you again.

You two keep chatting on the way to the theatre about anything and everything, from new bands to upcoming games to the newest blockbuster horror movies. You are not personally on the hockey team, but, as his friend, it is your duty to care. Besides, you figure, it gives you something to look forward to.

The movie is fine. You convince him against sneaking an entire pizza in, you split a bucket of popcorn, and you give him shit for getting freaked out by the disembowelment scene. It is payback for him teasing you about crying during the last movie you two went to a couple of days ago.

You two stand at the streetlight.

“Dude, it’s like eight,” he groans. “It’s not even late.”

“True,” you agree. “Counterpoint: I still have another week’s worth of work to do by Friday on top of the homework I’ll have to do anyway, so unless you wanna help—”

“Forget I asked.” He pulls his hood up against the autumn wind. “Need me to walk you back?”

“Nah.” You shrug. “If someone mugs me, they’ll give me an excuse to not do my homework.”

“Murdered?

“I’m already halfway there.”

He grins. “See ya tomorrow, Y/N.”

“See ya, Jones.” You wave as he runs off.

The walk home is quiet and considerably easier than it was a couple of weeks ago. Seeing as you now get queasy whenever you get into a car, you have been limited to taking the subway and walking, which, among other things, has contributed positively to your physical strength. You know that you should probably at least try to take the bus or a cab around town to build your tolerance up, but the last time you tried, you had almost tripped and fallen from how shaky your legs were getting out. Oddly enough, you note as you go through the door, you do not have a considerably larger fear of heights than you did before, or of fire, but cars were tripping you up, even though you were the one that crashed it. You feel thankful that, at least, you do not think your fear is crippling. At least, you reason, you can still get into the car.

You lock the door behind you, debating whether you feel like adding to the collection of cuts you now possess— they are self-inflicted, but not intentionally so; you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge the fact that you physically cannot use your hands to cut things. You decide against it tonight, tossing your bag on the bed as you sprawl across it, admittedly exhausted. You allow yourself a couple of seconds with your eyes closed before you pull yourself up with a groan and get back to work.

A part of you wishes that you had the physical energy to stay out longer. You are always trying to find excuses not to sleep, and although the mountain of homework and readjusting your timelines for things you missed is certainly one way to keep yourself preoccupied, it is not exactly what you would consider fun. Then again, reliving your greatest traumas while you sleep is not exactly fun either.

You catch yourself peeling at the newly applied bandages on your fingers, fingernails catching under the crudely applied adhesives. Applying bandages properly requires more dexterity and patience than you currently possess, and you are hardly going to ask someone else for help with something as stupid as that. You have lasted this long without needing too much help. People can live by themselves. You will live, probably. Well? Not your concern.

‘I should eat something.’ Your eyes strain to focus on the piece of paper in front of you, your mind wandering aimlessly as you try to impress the actual importance of finishing this upon yourself, but you find that is an insurmountable feat.

You drop your bag off the side of the bed, reaching down and pulling your shoe off, leaning back into your pillows, the weight of the day practically immobilizing you. Fumbling hands switch the lamp off, bathing your room in momentary, blissful darkness before the gravity of your decision sets in.

“Alright, me,” you breathe to yourself. “What’s it gonna be today? My folks? Bradford? What’s his face? Hell,” you chuckle, “why not all three? I’m sadistic enough, I’m sure.”

You close your eyes. “Give me your worse,” you challenge as you slip into unconsciousness.

--

Two weeks.

He had kept his distance for about two weeks. It was not as if he did not care or was not morbidly curious what the crash had done to you—his glances through the curtains did not tell him much-- but, after some debate, he had figured you needed time to recuperate before you would want his company. Two weeks, he figured, would be enough time for you to get back on your feet or, at least, for you to start wanting company.

His excuse to see you had come in the form of his brother’s newfound prideful boasting. Feigning insult was as good an excuse as any to go see you; after all, he just so happened to be in the neighborhood anyway, and it was normal to pop in to see someone if you were already just a couple blocks down, right? Sneaking away was easy enough—they would not mind his absence—and he, after much prep work, knew exactly how and why he was going to say the things he would to get in your good favor. The plan, he knows, would have gone swimmingly.

His plans seem asinine when he hears you crying.

His brothers do not cry much. He does not, either; it was a habit that they had all thoroughly bullied themselves out of when they were much younger and, if they still did, he knew nothing of it. His master did not encourage this, per se, but talked, then, frequently about the importance of maintaining a more stoic disposition and not allowing emotions to cripple you in battle. Practically, Donatello was satisfied with that explanation, having not properly cried for more than a year now. To hear the sound again, especially coming from you, was novel.

Novel, too, is how you are crying. The sound is less of actual sobbing and more of you being strangled, quiet gasps for air escaping your lips as you shake on the bed, curled in on yourself and clutching at your chest as if whatever pain you are experiencing is centered and can be relieved by something between your collarbones. His eyes, for the first time, trace the lines on your skin, your sleeves riding up your arms to reveal them to him, tears racing down and along the gash in your face. Everything about the scene, from the soft gasping of panic to your position to the heavy scarring, is completely foreign to him, rivaled only by one or two particularly hard nights when he and his brother were much younger.

He slides in through the window, leaning onto the bed. His fingers flick your lamp back on as he grabs your shivering shoulder tightly, shaking you awake as he mumbles words of encouragement. He is not sure if his help will be appreciated, if snapping you out of it was even what he is supposed to do in this situation, but now is not the time to think of that. You are in pain. He can offer you this kindness. “Wake up,” he pleads, not thinking of how this would look until your eyes snap open to look at him.

Immediately, the reality of the situation sets in, and he scrambles off the bed. ‘Why did I think that would be a good idea?’ Panic. ‘You just walked into her room like a fucking creep. See, now she’s going to—’

“Sorry.”

He blinks, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Huh?”

You clear your throat, wiping the tears from your eye with your sleeve quickly as you bring your knees to your chest, voice hoarse. “Sorry,” you repeat. “That you… I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for, but I know I should be apologizing.”

He is completely dumbfounded.

Your eyes glance to the open window. “I should probably start closing and locking my window, right?” You rub the back of your neck, voice clearing the longer you talk. “It didn’t occur to me since I’m so high up, but if you guys can get in, The Foot can too, right?”

‘Why is she apologizing?’

You push the hair out of your face. ‘You need something, right? I—uh—need to stop saying ‘right’ so much.” You shake your head to clear it. “’ Sup?”

He hears himself mumble some bullshit out about being in the neighborhood.

You sigh. “Sorry.” You close your eyes. “I’m usually up later; I’ve been so tired lately.”

‘Is she serious right now?’ He is completely lost. ‘She was just crying her eyes out in her sleep and now she’s apologizing? Did I miss something?’ You are smiling now, eyes still bloodshot, as if the whole thing is a figment of his imagination, still shivering where you sit.

He rises to his feet, kneeling in front of you on the bed. “What was it about?”

You blink, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Your nightmare,” he clarifies. “You were crying. What was it about?”

You avert eye contact. “Nothing too crazy,” you shrug. “Just about the crash. Nothing too exciting.” If possible, he thinks the bags under your eyes are worse than the last time you saw him.

He takes your hands loosely, turning them palms up to look, for the first time, at the patchwork quilt that is now your skin. “What happened in it?” He runs his thumb along the lines, keeping his voice low; he remembers how that used to help when Mikey used to have fits when they were younger. Leonardo and Raphael were never good at that; they took better to being more violently snapped out of their moods, but, then again, they never had this kind of breakdown; theirs were always more driven by loathing, self or otherwise.

You pause, still not looking him in the face as your muscles relax. He remembers, vividly, how he had done something similar when you two had first met, how much better, health-wise, you looked. ‘How long has it been since then? Three months? A little less?’

You take a deep breath. “Just… family shit,” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you trace his frame loosely. “Fire.”

Your gaze is piercing as you finally look at him properly. He feels something catch in his throat as you bow your head.

“It’s my fault, you know.” Your voice is so soft, barely a whisper. “That they’re dead, I mean.”

The air is a suffocating blanket that smothers you both.

“I never told you, did I?” Your focus does not shift as it might have a bit ago. It is locked solely and intensely on him, taking in every detail of his expression. “How I died? How they died? Why I died?”

Hesitantly, he shakes his head. He thinks it best to just be quiet and let you talk. He does not think he has ever heard anyone speak in quite the same tones, ever looked at him quite the same way you are.

You take another breath. “I wanted to try my hand at baking.” You force your eyes to stay focused on his. “I was—still am—not good about sleep. I always slept bad, and never at the right times. I used to take pills for it, to try to get myself back on track.”

He sees where this is going.

“I thought I could still stay up as late as I was used to.” You glance to the side, stealing yourself a second before focusing back on the boy in front of you. “I sat down in my room, turned on a movie. I set a timer. I fell asleep.” You swallow, hands shaking in his. “I can’t smell well, either. I must not have smelled the burning.” Your lips curl in a bitter smile. “Sure as fuck felt it, though, when I woke up.”

He lets you finish.

You try to blink the tears out of your eyes. “They were asleep,” Your voice rises ever so slightly. “I fell asleep at two something. I woke up when they started yelling.” You purse your lips, face reddening in shame as your nostrils flair. “They were trying to get someone out of bed when the roof caved in above them. My door got blocked.”

You feel yourself smile.

“So,” you strain not to cry, “that, Donatello, is why I’m here and why I’m dead, and why I really do deserve to burn again.” You laugh. “Hell, my body count is rivaling some serial killers, so that’s… that’s certainly something.”

He lets go of your hands, face blank.

You lean forward, placing your hands on your knees. “I don’t blame you,” You wipe a wayward tear out of your eyes, trying to swallow the frog in your throat. “Fuck, man, I’d think less of me, too, if it were me.” You nod towards the window. “I get it if you want to leave, but I thought you might want to know why—”

He stops you mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to him.

Your arms lay slack at your sides as you try to process what is happening.

He does not say a word.

You break.

You burry your face into him, tears welling in your eyes as you let out a strangled sob. You hold onto him tightly as you struggle to breathe, body shaking as you wrap your own arms around him the best you can. The sound roars in your ears like thunder, the deafening quiet of the apartment punctuated only by your own cries. He gently holds you there, resting his head on top of yours. Each sound you make sounds as though you are physically being choked by your guilt, and his chest feels as though it is being crushed by an invisible hand as he listens to your pain.

Neither of you knows how long you stay like that.

He considers telling you a story from a long time ago, about some training he and his brothers had back then, but thought better of it; he does not want to upset you any more than you already are, and being in good company with someone like him may not be exactly what you need right now. Granted, he does not know what you do need, but he knows listening to him talk about bashing brains would not help your sensibilities any.

Instead, he stays quiet.

You pull away after a while, wiping your face off again as you mumble out an apology.

“Don’t apologize.” He clears his throat. “It’s good to cry; it releases endorphins.”

You smile at that. “Well,” you giggle tearfully, “if it releases endorphins.”

He smiles back, face flushing. You look good, he thinks, even with your face all red. He knows that, scientifically, there is probably a reason, but he cannot think of it right now.

He stands up. “I’ll get—”

You grab his hand tightly.

He looks back at you.

“Can I ask a favor?”

He blinks. “Of course,” he agrees easily. “Anything.”

You glance off. “Promise not to take it weird?”

He feels his heart rate increase. “Y-yeah,” he nods.

He feels you pull him gently back on the bed. “Can you stay here tonight?”

His eyes widen as they flicker between the mattress and you. “What,” he clarifies breathlessly, “like sleep with you?”

You nod.

“In the same bed?”

You hesitate, nod again.

He clears his throat, face heating again. “Like, actually?”

“If it wasn’t actually, I wouldn’t ask, would I?” You grip his hand tightly. “I just really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

‘Oh.’ He mentally kicks himself. ‘She’s scared. Don’t make her uncomfortable.’

“It’s alright if you don’t—”

He is extremely quick to reassure you that he is more than happy—‘Bad choice of wording.’—to stay tonight until you fall asleep, but that he would not stay the whole night as to not worry his brothers.

You nod in agreement. “That’s fine.” You rub the back of your neck. “Not sure I would be good company when I wake up, anyway; I still have class.”

“Oh, right.” He nods in understanding, pushing himself further onto the bed. “Which side…?”

You shrug. “Which way do you face?”

“I usually lie on my stomach.”

“Then it doesn’t matter.” You slide your sweatshirt over your head after a bit of squirming around, tossing it onto the couch.

His face is now scarlet. “Okay then,” he mumbles, laying down on the side away from the window. ‘Is she going to—no, stop that.’

You look over at him, face down on the mattress. You can almost feel the heat coming off him. “Are you alright there, buddy?”

He nods.

You shrug, laying down under the blanket and curling into him, facing the window. “Mind getting the light?”

He reaches over, clicking it off.

You sigh in content, turning to face him, teetering on the edge of the mattress. “I’m not venomous,” you inform him teasingly. “I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: of the two of us, you should not be the one who’s a nervous wreck.”

“You dunno that.” His voice is muffled by the bed.

“You’re the strong one,” you argue.

“So?” He turns his head to look at you. “I’m the guy laying in the—I’m just gonna stop that sentence.”

“It’s only bad if it isn’t consensual.” You smile reassuringly. “I invited you to lay with me, right? So, unless I make you uneasy, then we’re all good.”

He breaks eye contact. “So,” he clarifies, “you don’t mind if I move closer to you?”

You shake your head.

He hesitantly slides himself further onto the bed. “Can I move closer than this?”

“You’ve already seen me bawl my eyes out. You’re doing me a service. Move as close or as far as you want.”

He moves to press his side against you. “Is this fine?”

You nod. “Look, how about this?” You rest your arm under your head. “If you do something I’m uncomfortable with, the safe word is pina colada.”

‘We already have a safe word?’ He was not sure if he is on cloud nine or just terrified of you.

You are very confused why he looks so warm. “Do you need me to turn the AC on?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good,” he assures you tightly. Slowly, he reached an arm out and over your waist, pulling you closer. You do not seem to resist in any way, wrapping your good leg around one of his to pull him closer.

‘Conscious touching.’ He glances down at you, trying to act cool. ‘Conscious, intentional touching. She smells so nice and she feels—okay, this is not going to work if you keep being a perv.’

“Thanks,” you mumble, humming softly. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

Cloud nine. Definitely on cloud nine.

“Every time.”

You giggle.

He blinks. “What?”

“Every time,” you note, already nodding off. “Like in that book.”

‘Which one?’ “They wrote it down for a reason, right?” The longer he spends like this, the smoother he feels.

“Totally.” You smile, closing your eyes. “Just know that this goes both ways, alright? If you ever need help like this, you know who to call.”

This is new. ‘Help like this? What, like crying?’ His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what you mean. ‘Or he means if I ever need company in my—what did I just say?’

You pick up on his confusion. “Emotional help, I mean.” Your fingers trace the indentations in his shell absentmindedly. “I mean, I know sometimes I didn’t want to go to my family about stuff. I dunno if you have that…” you trail off, realizing that you might be unintentionally bashing his brothers. You sincerely do not want to blow this.

“I mean,” he says after a bit, “I think I get what you’re talking about.” He sighs. “You mean stuff that they’d make fun of me for, right?”

You nod.

He feels his heart melt a little. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

You forgot how safe he makes you feel. “Goodnight, Donnie,” you mumble sleepily.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pass out not long after that. If he has to estimate a general amount of time, he will clock it in at about five minutes. He does not move, however, until about thirty minutes before sunrise, too busy listening to the sound of your breathing and memorizing how exactly your body feels next to his. As he slips out of the window, early morning air waking him back up completely, he wonders if, someday, he could stay to see you wake up next to him. Not out of necessity, but just because you both wanted to stay like that for a while more.

‘I hope so. It’s a nice dream to have, anyhow.’

Table of Contents

Chapter 9

Chapter 11

[minhos-harness]

hi! for the send me a fandom ask game, could i please inquire about the hunger games (and if not, the classic maze runner)? hope you're doing well!

hi there! ahh, I love the hunger games so much, it's one of my all-time favourite series!

The first character I first fell in love with: Katniss! Like the series itself, Katniss is very important to me and has stuck with me through the years. Katniss, to me, is a very meaningful character. She's incredibly strong, resilient and determined, and consistently displays acts of bravery and compassion throughout her journey. Despite her hardened exterior, she also has a vulnerable side.

I appreciate that Katniss posseses realistic attributes as well (something I find other YA protagonists often lack). Katniss can be stubborn, appears cold at times and struggles to make friends. She keeps her distance from others and is even viewed as "unlikeable." It's refreshening and, in my opinion, makes her more relatable.

All in all, I adore Katniss Everdeen and through the first person perspective of the story in which we hear her thoughts and experience everything alongside her, I was quick to fall in love with her during my first ever read through of the books.

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: Oh, Effie. Her development is wonderful; as the story progresses, we witness her growing past her initial Capitol attitude to becoming aware and empathetic of the Districts and their reality. It's fantastic growth and we love to see it!

I'd like to say Haymitch as well. He's an intriguing character to me and I love the depth behind him and his actions. His backstory is really sad and I enjoy seeing him grow closer to Katniss over the course of the series.

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: Hmm, I'm not sure... Although I do love him, I suppose I don't love Peeta to the degree that everyone else seems to. That's not to say I hate or even dislike him, though - it's quite the opposite, really. He's a great character and I appreciate his kind nature (something we need to see applied more often to male characters), but again, I feel as though the fandoms love of him is much more intense than mine. So it's not that I don't love him, I just don't love him as much.

Does that count as an answer

The character I love that everyone else hates: I can't think of any characters this applies to for me.

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: Same answer as above, really.

The character I would totally smooch: Finnick, for sure!

The character I’d want to be like: Again, Katniss. Ever since I first read the series when I was younger, I've always admired her. As I mentioned before, she's a very strong person who does whatever she can to protect those she loves and cares about. She's a survivor who, despite all her hardships, continues to fight.

The character I’d slap: I think Coriolanus Snow deserves a nice big one. Do I really need to give a reason why?

A pairing that I love: Finnick and Annie. Their relationship is very sweet and despite what Suzanne Collins says, they definitely had a happy ending in which they lived out the rest of their lives peacefully together with their little baby.

Also, I won't lie, I actually really like Haymitch/Effie, haha. I love their dynamic and seeing Woody and Elizabeth bounce off each other in the films is really fun.

A pairing that I despise: I don't despise it as such, but I'm not a fan of Katniss/Gale romantically. I can see why people ship them, but I could never see them being together, much less lasting. As Katniss points out in the epilogue of Mockingjay, they both have fiery spirits and Katniss doesn't need or want any more of that.

Thanks for the ask and an excuse to talk about The Hunger Games @sunny-reys!

Send me a fandom and I'll tell you...

[miscellaneousramblings]

The world is cruel and unfair. My thoughts about the end of SnK.

This is a post about my feelings re: the end of SnK. I try to mix a bit of analysis and express where, in my opinion, it went wrong.

I’ve only read the last chapter once for now. Managed to avoid every spoiler until the official release. What can I say? I think this ending is disappointing and unsatisfying, despite not being The Worst Thing I’ve Ever Read. It’s serviceable at best, which by default is underwhelming in a work that has almost always tried to go above what we usually see in comparable pieces of fiction. Over almost 140 chapters, SnK offered its readers genuine emotions, either positive or negative, and, until this final chapter, managed to stay true to its themes. But this final chapter is basically a 4/10 or 5/10 ending in an overall 9.5/10 story.

I hope that, after the initial shock of the ending, I’ll be able to look back on it, not fondly, but with a bit more appreciation for some of its (too few) genuinely good moments. I also hope it won’t sour the experience of reading SnK too much for me. Of course, I accept the ending, I accepted it literally the moment I read it even though I saw it go further and further from my expectations and understanding of the story by the second. And obviously, I respect Isayama as a writer and genuinely cherish some parts of this manga.

But I won’t ever think this ending was good, and am going to try to explain why.

First, something quite subjective. I think the chapter lacked genuine emotion. I didn’t feel much of anything, except a crushing sentiment of sadness and a bit of anger when I saw Mikasa alone by Eren’s grave at the end. A lot of what happened felt either incomplete or forced, and often both. For example, I had imagined the moment the curse of Ymir broke would be the most beautiful moment in the manga, but instead it just... happened? This was supposed to be the peak of this story, the miracle that all these terrible sacrifices were made in the name of. I keep thinking about the moment the curse breaks at the end of Fruits Basket (a great read btw) and how genuinely emotional this chapter is even though the genre is different from SnK’s. Considering Isayama’s talent when portraying emotions, I can’t help but feel terribly underwhelmed by his version of this moment, which should have made us feel like everything was worth it, but didn’t.

Second, the pacing in this last arc (and especially post 123) was messy. I know it’s easy to criticize as a reader, but objectively, spending 7 chapters on the alliance going from point X to point Y and not giving the main character the spotlight he deserves is a major mistake. I kept holding hope that all of the buildup since chapter 130 was going to amount to the last 2-3 chapters slapping extremely hard (like, say, the Grisha-centered chapters in return to Shiganshina, or the Reiner-Eren conversation in Marley), but for the first time, Isayama disappointed me in that regard.

While mostly uninteresting fights got dragged out, some plot points were almost forgotten. Some setups never got a proper conclusion. Eren barely got the time to explain his motivations or what he saw. Historia’s conversation from chapter 130 never got an ending. The parasite and Ymir literally disappeared even though they were the focus of the last two chapters before this one. Some memory shards went unexplained. We never got to see Grisha’s death even when this panel exists?

Regardless of the actual things I don’t like in the ending, I think it would have been more palatable if this last stretch of chapters had been given time to breathe, if only to expand on the characters’ motivations or give us more interactions (for example, Eren’s talks with Annie, Reiner, Connie...).

Third, characterisation and themes. Oh boy. My favourite character is Eren, and my other favourites are Mikasa, Armin, Reiner and Zeke. I think that among these five, the only one who got a true, complete character arc was Armin (and arguably Zeke as well, though the lack of resolution between him and Eren is a hate crime towards me, specifically). Reiner had a great character arc overall but his last appearance in the manga was distateful and a regression. I won’t expand on it.

Mikasa... my poor girl. My most charitable take about her ending is that Isayama wanted to portray her inner strength, the fact she can always live on in the face of adversity and cherish her own life despite the setbacks while remembering those she loves. Well, I guess he succeeded. But in a weirdly unsatisfying way, because this renders her character arc entirely cyclical. Those qualities have characterised Mikasa since the start. It’s established since the very first arc that she’s prideful, brave, and that she has the inner strength to live without Eren if he ever disappears from this world. But the way Isayama made it happen? Having her kill him and then cry next to his grave in the final panels of the manga is what her arc amounted to? I had always hoped that Mikasa could actually save Eren from himself and show him how to live and share his burdens with him (all things that have been foreshadowed in the manga itself, btw). I thought her tattoo would hold some significance, either by

A/ being transmitted to her potential child with Eren were he to survive (didn’t happen)

B/ foreshadowing a future political role for her as a bridge between Hizuru and Paradis (didn’t happen, and furthermore she’s the only alliance member living in Shiganshina and is deliberately separated from the rest of them)

C/ having some kind of supernatural power that would allow her to change the game, were she to enter paths or reach the coordinate (didn’t happen).

So what? In the end, Mikasa’s Big Choice amounted to giving up on her love (but also not really because she’s never going to be able to move on and isn’t allowed to feel anything else but pain), resulting in her losing her family for the third time and never being able to welcome Eren home. This is horrifyingly sad. I’m also frankly disturbed by the sort of ~parallel Eren establishes in this chapter between Ymir and Mikasa, about the topic of love. So the message of SnK was that... love is a chain? Everything happened because Ymir was too attached to the King and couldn’t leave this world, so Mikasa had to show her that she could give up on love for the greater good by killing Eren? I wish I just misunderstood this but that’s what I got from the chapter and I hate it. Also, I really thought Isayama was above the traditional “female character who sacrifices everything and never reaches happiness but stays quiet and endures for the common good” trope. I was wrong.

Mikasa might have been the centerpiece of the story, but she got the short end of the stick. At this point, the writing pretty much does the opposite of what it is supposed to by inadvertently justifying the validity of Mikasa and Eren’s “selfish” dream in chapter 138. Initially, I thought that their dream was wrong and not something truly enviable because in it, they led a life of guilt and regret while knowing full well that Eren would end up dying anyway, leaving Mikasa behind, alone. Naively, I thought that surely choosing the responsible path would be more rewarding for Mikasa, one way or the other. But as it turns out, the path of selflessness also led her to a life of solitude, except now she carries her burdens all on her own without having tasted happiness. Amazing. I genuinely do not know how I am supposed to root for this.

Finally... Eren. Oh boy. Oh, good lord. I’ll admit I wanted him to live, but I was also ready to accept an ending where he dies. But... not like this. I already said I don’t like the fact Mikasa killed him, but what I like even less is the lack of general resolution his character received. He’s the MC for god’s sake! But post-chapter 123, he has received second, if not third-grade treatment, save from chapter 131, which was brilliant.

Overall, his motivations are a mess, which I get. Him getting confused because of all his powers and memories is understandable. Him having conflicting motivations is actually appealing to me. He wanted to save Eldia, but was also disappointed in the outside world (when he says “I would have done it anyway”, I thought about what he said to Ramzi and the "scenery” in 131) , and wished for his friends to become heroes. I get it, it’s fine.

But Isayama went too far with the tragic aspect of his character. As in, there is no catharsis, just crushing pain. Isayama deliberately went overkill by stating that Eren killed 80% of humanity (what the hell), and, even worse, actually drove Dina to Carla. I literally couldn’t believe this. I have seen people theorize about this months ago and immediately discarded it by thinking it was ridiculous and amount to character assassination. To make things clear, I’m not discussing Eren’s actions in the last arc from a moralistic point of view, because this would be another topic entirely, I’m talking about what makes sense in the narrative that has been presented to us since the Paths chapters started and Eren’s plan was revealed. For example, however awful the contents of the scene was, Eren manipulating Grisha to kill the Reiss family was not only amazingly written and drawn in chapter 121 but also narratively motivated by the fact he needed the Founding Titan’s power. This scene also had other functions, such as revealing the Attack Titan’s premonition powers or making Zeke interact with Grisha and understand the truth about his father. Compared to this, the “moment” we have in 139, this abrupt, absurd revelation about him indirectly killing his mother is rushed and nonsensical. Even if this was to kickstart the whole story by awakening his hatred for the titans, I can’t help but feel shaken by how... gratuitous a “plot-twist” it is. What does it say about the attachment Eren had to his mother and her words to him? (”because he was born into this world”). This nullifies one of the most impactful scenes of the manga, because the ending makes it clear that in the end, existing as a human being by the simple virtue of being born wasn’t enough for him. It just couldn’t be, for some reason that I’m yet to fully understand. Instead, he endured and endured, and never got to experience the simple, humane existence Carla wished for him. So were these beautiful words a lie all along? Why did Isayama go to such an extreme with Dina? The only conclusion I can come to is that it’s because he needed Eren to be absolutely, totally irredeemeable. Eren needed, storywise, to be this unstoppable extremist who would get burned to ashes by his uncontrollable desires.

Because yes, apparently, Eren had to die. There was no escape. Worst of all, Eren died a slave. A slave to his desire for freedom. A slave to the destiny he saw at age 15. A slave to his titan powers. This is what I truly can’t forgive about this ending. I won’t stand for the “but he chose this” answer, because it was a choice made out of despair, and all the alternatives are presented as non viable by the narrative (are they really though? or is it just a cope-out to justify the last arc of the manga unfolding as it did?). In short, Isayama justifies this “choice” that was forced on Eren by telling us: his life was destined to be short, he had a violent side he just wouldn’t repress, Mikasa didn’t give him the answer he wanted, he was overwhelmed by what he saw, and their enemies were zeroing in on them. Canonically, all of this made him start the Rumbling. Fine. But I always thought that, at the end of it all, even if Eren were to die, this narrative would be challenged. That Eren would at least have a big cathartic moment, and that he would make another choice upon realising that the freedom he looked for was illusory, and that he would fight to the bitter end for what was right, what he truly wanted, before finally either going to rest or living on with the burden of his actions but the support of his loved ones. I wished for the perfect blend of bitterness and hope. The tragedy of irredeemeable actions completed by the powerful liberation of free will. The idea that change is possible.

But what did we get instead? Eren reaffirming that the Rumbling would have happened anyway while feeling tremendous guilt, as usual (living a life with regrets, and consequently, a death with regrets), refusing the support Armin was ready to lend him (refusing to even try to defy what he thinks is his destiny and pushing others away again) and erasing the memories of all his friends after having manipulated them into ending him against their wishes (going against the most basic concept of freedom). And because we as readers and he as a character have to suffer until the very end, Eren finally clearly expressed his wish to live, to stay with Mikasa and his friends. Only to die 5 pages later, for good.

The main character of this story truly died as a disembodied head, in a titan’s mouth, killed by the person he loved the most before being buried in a nameless grave. One of his mottos was “fight”, but in the end, he didn’t. He let fate happen. In a story about freedom, this is unfathomable. This is beyond the realm of sadness for me, and I’m leaning more and more towards indignation. Where was his dignity as a character? I know that Mikasa, Armin and the others know “the truth about him” but I’m sorry, this isn’t enough. Now, if I ever get the strength to re-read SnK, I won’t be able to look at Eren without thinking about all the things he sacrificed: love, friendship, happiness, humanity, morals, principles, justice, freedom, the lives of countless others, the peace of mind of the person he loves, and his own life. A sacrifice so great should have gotten us a reward as great, if not greater. But we only got the end of the titan curse, without even an apparition or a word from Ymir, the one who actually started all of this, and now Paradis is ruled by the Yeagerists or something. The wings of freedom defaced by two rifles. How great. How satisfying.

In the end, I can’t really fathom what Isayama wanted to say with this chapter. The story itself, the 138 chapters that preceded it seemed clear to me. The world is cruel but also very beautiful. But after having read 139, I don’t know where the freedom the characters chased is. I don’t know why love was portrayed as something so precious but also something that in the end was predestined to be discarded. I don’t know why characters such as Mikasa went against fate only to be crushed by it further down the road.

I never thought that SnK would go into this almost grimdark direction, but it did. I can barely find the beauty in this chapter. Mikasa’s last panels are heartbreaking, but even the strength of her love can’t shine through the countless sacrifices the characters - and especially she and Eren - made, for the sake of a future that already seems extremely compromised. I guess that all in all, the world’s cruelty overshadows everything, and those who make the greatest sacrifices also are those who never get repaid. The world is unfair. I know that, but it was my naive wish that reading a piece of fiction would help me take my mind off this reality by showing me there is also more to it.

PS: the best moment in the chapter was those panels:

Finally, even if it was too little and too late, someone showed Eren he wasn’t alone, and didn’t need to be. RIP, my beautiful boy. You truly did deserve better than what this story allowed you to be.

[betweenthetimeandsound]

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#180-171)

#180: Fernando Tordo -- Tourada (Portugal 1973)

“Entram guizos, chocas e capotes, E mantilhas pretas, Entram espadas, chifres e derrotes, E alguns poetas, Entram bravos, cravos e dichotes, Porque tudo mais são tretas,”

“Bells, cowbells and capes are coming in, And black mantillas Swords, big horns and defeats are coming in And some poets Brave people, carnations and swear words are coming in Because it's a wheeze at most”

Despite the title ("tourada" translates to bullfight in Portuguese), it's actually a portrait of a revolution in the making. The lyrics were so clever that the censors at the RTP didn’t notice these lyrics were reflecting the current regime.

That’s enough for a 250 appearance for me, but there’s more that makes the song so memorable.

The build with the brass and percussion sets the stage for something important to happen. Sometimes, I do forget I like this song, but listening to it like right now is an experience, like one entering the battlefield.

The last line, "And the intelligent man says that songs are over..." still amuses me, though it's quite cynical in that the intellectuals would eventually not believe in the movement.

Personal ranking: 5th/17 Actual ranking: 10th/17 in Luxembourg

#179: France Gall -- Poupée de cire, poupée de son (Luxembourg 1965)

“Suis-je meilleure, suis-je pire qu’une poupée de salon? Je vois la vie en rose bonbon Poupée de cire, poupée de son”

“Am I better, am I worse than a fashion doll? I see life through bright rosy-tinted glasses Wax doll, sawdust doll”

One of the game-changing songs of Eurovision, in that the general mood shifts from slow-tempo songs to a little bit of pop. The first ten contests had their share of good songs, but seem to blur into each other at points. Afterwards, the song quality rose, and they were better suited to the times.

Beyond the happy orchestral sound is something quite sad—a pretty girl who sings songs without experiencing what they mean. Gainsbourg was quite the songwriter, but it led to a falling out between him and France later on, because of the double meanings of the songs he wrote for her.

The drama related to France Gall and the contest didn't stop there. Kathy Kirby, the runner-up that year, slapped France when she won. Then her boyfriend broke up with her shortly after, and wrote a song that would be the basis of "My Way".

Quite interesting I must say, though I don’t come back to this song often.

Personal and actual ranking: 1st/18 in Naples

#178: Ajda Pekkan -- Petr'oil (Turkey 1980)

"Öyle gururlusun gidemem yanına Girmişsin kim bilir kaç aşığın kanına Dolardan, marktan başka laf çıkmaz dilinden Neler, neler çekiyorum senin elinden"

"You are so proud, I can’t come close to you I wonder who else suffers from your love You speak of nothing but dollars and marks I am so suffering because of you"

My 1980 winner is not only quite groovy and seductive, but also clever.

The 1970s had two major oil crises--one in 1973, and another in 1979. The first one was when OPEC withheld their oil from countries who supported Israel during the Yom Kippur, and the second one when oil production stopped during the Iranian Revolution, resulting in higher prices per barrel. Both resulted in low supply and increased gas prices in the United States; those who grew up during the era were less likely to drive as a result.

Petr'oil takes this issue and anthromorphizes it, as Ajda sings about the troubles of relying oil as a resource and as a partner. The belly-dance music also emphasizes the tension. combined with the percussion and strings on this piece.

While Ajda has since distanced herself from the song, I embrace it in all its charms. Plus it was heavily underrated in its year.

Personal ranking: 1st/19 Actual ranking: 15th/19 in Den Haag

Final Impressions on 1980: This year stands out a bit, for it had a number of songs dealing with a huge number of topics (including Belgium's "Euro-Vision", which made the contest go meta, haha). Alongside it, the production was a bit bare-bones, because of the Netherlands hosting it four years earlier, but it featured quirks such as a representative announcing their country's song, Morocco competing for the only time, and a steel band for the interval!

#177: The Allisons -- Are you sure? (United Kingdom 1961)

“Are you sure you won’t be sorry? Comes tomorrow, you won’t want me Back again to hold you tightly?”

The lyrics are quite smug, in that the Allisons warn the girl who plans to break up with them she might be sorry and alone. Not unlike with "If I Were Sorry", though there's a bit more charm and teasing towards their soon-to-be ex-, whereas the latter feels a bit more arrogant.

That said, it’s upbeat and almost lines up to the musical scene at the time (comparisons to Buddy Holly are not uncommon), and the musical run time just goes by so quickly (in comparison to other entries of the same era)! It's just a breeze.

Personal ranking: 1st/16 Actual ranking: 2nd/16 in Cannes

#176: Vicky Leandros: L'amour est bleu (Luxembourg 1967)

“Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Berce mon cœur, mon cœur amoureux, Bleu, bleu, l'amour est bleu, Bleu comme le ciel qui joue dans tes yeux.”

“Blue, blue, love is blue, Cradle my heart, my loving heart Blue, blue, love is blue Blue like the sky which play in your eyes."”

I think I first heard this in the intro to Eurovision 2006's semi-final. While the harp motif stood out, I didn't know where it came from. It was until when I watched the contest this song was in, which is strange because it was notable for having a Paul Mauriat cover which became a hit.

One of many classics which featured in 1960s contests, I like the innocence shown through the lyrics, which uses color and imagery to tell about the different cycles of love. The orchestration along the bridge was especially spectacular, as it provided a cinematic feel towards . Vicky’s accent sometimes gets in the way, but she sings this well and should’ve gotten a podium position.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 4th/17 in Vienna

#175: Kaija -- Ullu joy Hullu yö (Finland 1991)

"En edes halunnut sua omistaa En edes leikisti rakastaa Kaksi kulkijaa yhteen osuttiin Yksi yhteinen hetki jaettiin"

"I didn’t even want to own you I didn’t even want to love you We two travellers came across each other Shared one common moment together"

While I was watching Eurovision 1991, I liked the mysterious verses of Hullu yo, but I found the chorus a bit off, because it was punchier and more energetic. It also had that "minor-verse/major chorus" thing going on, which also made me uneasy with the song. With a few listens, I grew to like a bit more, because of its unique sound. It definitely sounds better with the studio cut versus the live, which shows off the failures of RAI's orchestra.

Another thing about the song, beyond its lyrics about a one-night-stand turned into longing feelings, was the choice choreography. Playing out the turmoiled relationship, it's funny to see how provocative it is, and that's after Toto's hilarious pronunciation of the song.

Elements of the live performance aside, it's still a jam which deserved better. Maybe it would've done so in the televote era.

Personal ranking: 7th/22 Actual ranking: 20th/22 in Rome

#174: Francoise Hardy -- L'amour s'en va (Monaco 1963)

“Si ce n’est toi Ce sera moi qui m’en irai L’amour s’en va Et nous n’y pourrons rien changer"

"If it isn’t you It will be me who will go away Love goes away And we can’t change anything about that"

I was happily surprised hearing this for the first time. It was very melancholic, with an interesting structure between the verses and the chorus. The percussion also helps with the latter, and adds a bit of character to the song.

The fact Francoise wrote this classic gem also warmed me up more to the song, especially because she was from the ye-ye generation of singers (which are known for being young and upbeat). Yet she stands and sings her own composition in a serious, almost bored tone, without taking the substance of the song away

(That being said, I really need to listen to more of her songs; I've found a couple a month ago, though there's obviously more...)

Personal ranking: 2nd/16 Actual ranking: 5th/16 in London

#173: ABBA -- Waterloo (Sweden 1974)

“The history book on the shelf is always repeating itself...”

You don’t need me to tell about this, do you? It’s fun and timeless pop, with some cool costumes to boot.

For more interesting stuff for both, the song Waterloo was an actual risk for the contest--they actually had another song for consideration, the folk-influenced Hasta Manana, but turned to this instead. And it worked, of course!

For the clothes, ABBA apparently chose these glam-rock inspired costumes because in Sweden, one wouldn't have to pay additional fees if the costumes won't be used for normal wear. Both Anni-frid and Agnetha look great, nevertheless.

And as of the moment, my favorite ABBA song is "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Despite the poppy tone, it has a moody vibe throughout, and one knows the relationship is going to end on a bad note.

Personal ranking: 2nd/17 Actual ranking: 1st/17 in Brighton

#172: Gigliola Cinquetti -- Si (Italy 1974)

“Sì, dolcemente dissi sì, Per provare un'emozione, Che non ho avuto mai,”

“Yes, I softly said yes, To feel an emotion That I've never had before”

My friend told me an interesting story about the lyrics—whereas the song Gigliola won with tells of a girl waiting to grow older to find true love, Si talks of the girl growing up and taking the plunge. So she interprets Si as a sequel of sorts.

So why does this beat Waterloo, in my opinion?

I like how the song starts—quietly, but with an interesting guitar part. The instrumentation builds well towards the "Si...", at which it gently but certainly blooms towards Gigliola's certainty on going with the man she loves.

The interesting part of it was how the song was censored in Italy because it was seen as "subliminal messaging" for a campaign on a divorce referendum that May. "Si" sounds like an endorsement for the "no" campaign, as it embraces being in love, even if it requires the death of another relationship.

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 2nd/17 in Brighton

Final Impressions on 1974: Definitely one of the most memorable years in the contest, if only for who won. The rest was a tale of two halves, with the first half being particularly good, and the other half bad (except for Si, as you can tell). And there were Wombles in the interval act, hehe.

#171: Eugent Bushpepa -- Mall (Albania 2018)

“Lot i patharë ndriçojë këtë natë Sonte kumbo prej shpirtit pa fjalë Vetëm një çast dhimbja të më ndalë”

“Lingering tear, light up this night Find your way out, to soothe my soul Just for one day make this pain subside”

Aren’t the lyrics to this so beautiful? They convey Eugent’s desire to be with his loved one so well, in both its pain and beauty.

The music really helps too--while the pre-vamped version was a whole minute longer, it also has a rockier edge to it. The revamped version cuts it down and cleans up the production, but it's still maintains the overall feel throughout.

Eugent is also a talented talented singer, which proved initial odds wrong and got Albania one of its best results! The bridge between the second verse and chorus has a great chord progression (which was given more space in the revamp), and he deserved qualification for that alone. And those high notes.

(Also, he's probably the best dressed guy of his year...good job Eugent, good job.)

Personal ranking: 7th/43 Actual ranking: 11th/26 GF in Lisbon

[penhaligon-publishing]

EMMA & ELECTRA.

@theasteriae wrote:

“Electra Fitzgerald,” she says, going to shake the other woman’s hand before she remembers the two champagne flutes she’s carrying. There’s a cheery tinkling of glass against glass, and couple of seconds’ graceless fumbling, before finally, she has a hand free. It’s a courtesy, more than anything; Electra had not missed the spark of recognition in Emma Robertson’s eyes, nor was she surprised to see it. Even if she didn’t use Instagram or read Elle or Glamour or Red, no doubt Lex’s face was familiar to her from all of the press that had surrounded Aidan’s trial.

Her hand lingers in Electra’s for just a second too long. Lex smiles, wide and excusatory, but is pleased when she can extract it, resisting the urge to flex her fingers or cross her arms over her chest. Terrible body language, as her mother would say, slapping at her forearms until she dropped them. She juggles the champagne glasses again instead and takes a sip from one of them, leaving a delicate smudge of Chanel lipstick on the rim of it. “Oh.”

With her left hand raised, the constellation inked on the back of her little finger becomes visible. “Actually, yes. It’s my star sign. Virgo. My brother has one on his hand too. We’re twins, but he was born before midnight, and I was born after it, so, different birthdays, different star signs, even. He’s a Leo. A real Leo, you know?” She gives a little laugh, light, dancing, and not at all genuine. She’s happy to chat, but she’s not willing to give anything away. There are very few people in this world that Electra Fitzgerald trusts, and there’s not a journalist out there who could hope to make it onto that list.

Emma’s rings catch and sparkle in the light, which throws her own tattoos into greater relief. Lex leans forward to examine them. “That one,” she says, pointing. “Is the Trishula. It’s associated with Lord Shiva. So is that one. It’s the leaf from a bilva tree.” Her tone has grown colder by a couple of degrees. It’s not that she thinks tattoos must have a meaning, as such ( though all of hers do ), but shouldn’t you at least know what you’re putting on your body? It’s something she’s said exasperatedly to Ram more than once.

Speaking of whom … Electra turns her head again, but neither he nor Cee are anywhere to be seen, and the jostling of the younger influencers, all keen to get their commission, is starting to grate on her. She drifts away from the watch display, towards the booth Emma indicated, and sits down on the cushioned bench, setting the two glasses of champagne down on the shiny black table in front of her.

“No. I don’t do that so much anymore. I have done promotions for them in the past, which I suppose is why they invited me, but I’m really just here to support a friend. And to have a night off, let my husband take care of the children for once.” Another laugh, the same as before. Electra had waited fifteen years to have a baby, and then two had come along at once, gorgeous twin girls who are now just over a year old. She wouldn’t change them for the world, but these were the kinds of chats women had, weren’t they? And besides, she can’t deny it’s nice to be having a real drink and some proper adult conversation for a change. “It feels like forever since I had either of those, so thank you. And what about you?”

She looks up as Emma slides into the booth opposite her. “Are you here working, or did Raymond send you a personal invite?”

"Oh, are you a twin? How wonderful. I never had siblings - always wanted one, someone to take the blame." It's true enough. Mum and Dad are lovely enough but they've always had such high hopes for her, she's getting used to seeing disappointment twinge through their faces every now and then. She was going an art dealer, don't you know? A stint at Sotherby's, her own gallery, the lot. Then Jonathan happened and it was all swept away.

"I'm a Taurus," she continues, lips quirking in amusement. "Stubborn." Star sign and date of birth. Not particularly useful but still Emma files it away.

Electra Fitzgerald. Emma had not expected to find her anything more than another empty-headed influencer, but there is something truly quite striking about her manner. Charismatic, yet reserved. Intimate, yet guarded. As Electra leans forwards to identify the tattoos on her fingers, Emma is almost embarrassed to find a brittle spark of electric pulse down the inside of her proffered wrist. What is that perfume she's wearing? It doesn't so much intoxicate the senses as clear them. All in all her presence has the effect similar to that of a tiger of the Indian jungle - dangerous and wildly rare, valuable.

As they move to the booth, Electra turns the conversation to her family, her children. Proper female conversation. Electra isn't to know but this is the first time someone has talked like this to Emma in a long time. She is so sick of Charles' associates talking over her expensively cut hair. To be singled out by another woman for a conversation feels almost like falling in love.

"I have two. Isaac and Annabelle. Isaac is coming up twelve now, so grown-up. He's getting into his moody teenage stage. It's impossible to peel him away from his computer games. And dear Annie is seven." Ah, yes, the highly anticipated saviour of her marriage. Seven years later and nothing to show for it. "God, doesn't she make me laugh! She is obsessed with gore - you know, blood and violence - I don't know where she gets it from. Nanny letting them see things they shouldn't, probably. She likes to put ketchup on her forehead and pretend to get shot. I mean, really? Who elses child, does that?" She laughs as she reaches out to catch the attention of a passing waiter. More champagne is called for, most definitely.

It's nice this, she thinks. Electra is holding things back from her, she knows. Probably spooked by the title 'Journalist'. She isn't to know that Emma has absolutely no intention of writing about her.

Emma takes a deep swig of her topped up glass. "No," she answers Electra's final question. "I've never met him. It's my husband that recieves the invites. He's in the jewellery business himself. Charles Robertson? His family owns a diamond mine. Don't get him talking about it unless you want the next hour of your life dragged out of you."

[septiembrre]

I'm not mad for the three word prompts pls xx

“I’m not mad”, 3 word prompts

I couldn’t sleep last night and instead of writing the prompt that has an actual deadline and due in a few days, I decided to write this because @sothischickshe is so nice and keeps giving me internet kudos, and I wanted to answer their prompt. <3 This is kind of a weird, nonsensical conversation. I know I’m not selling it, but truly I wrote it at 3 in the morning. Also yes, there’s lot of endearments in this that haven’t yet been used this way in the show, don’t @ me. 

On Ao3, too. 

Set: One day in the future when Brio is an item. 

-

Beth had made a mistake. She had started the bread late, off schedule.

The meet with their new contact was pushed back from a blithe afternoon meet and greet at Rio’s bar to eight in the evening semi-dinner that wasn’t incredibly tense but not really the kind of thing you actually wanted to eat at. But, regardless of business woes, she was still committed to making walnut bread whether she liked it or not. The parent group for Emma, Jane, and Marcus’s soccer team organized a bake sale for the team. Despite the ever-present shadiness of upper-middle-class, overly prideful parents, she had happily committed herself to three loaves - one for each of the children. It could be worse. At least she was no longer at a stage where all of her babies were elementary school-aged, and running ragged trying to room mother and volunteer at games.

Successful as the day was with their new connects, her whole bread-making schedule had been thrown off. By the time they had gotten home it was after eleven and she just had time to start the bulky second prove before she collapsed in exhaustion from the long day. Rio had tugged her zombie-like to bed.

But that was then and this was - now. Her over-disciplined mind had woken her up at an hour that still qualified as the middle of the night to shape the bread. Beth tried to undergo the mental gymnastics of which floorboards to avoid, to make it all the way to the kitchen without stirring Rio, but damn if she was still tired. He who must not be disturbed was snoring softly at her shoulder. Beth could already hear him, but she would just take it slow. She started first with one arm, and then the next. Limb by limb she freed herself from his all too enticing warmth and peeled away the blankets.

Slowly, she shifted her weight out of the bed, as a hand emerged out from under the piles of blankets to snag her own wrist.

Fuck. She moved two feet and she already got caught.

“Where you goin’?” Rio says it slow, rolling like molasses through his exhaustion and the fog of sleep. Rio always collapses into slumber, chronically under-rested. He took the luxury of rest where he could. It meant he slept heavy and he was always fussy to be interrupted. Beth leans back into the bed and kisses his temple, then his cheekbone.

She leans into his ear to whisper, “I need to go check on the dough.”

Beth strokes the scrunch of his brow, kisses the bridge if his nose. She’s pulling out all the stops.

“Go back to sleep, baby.”

He groans. The sound is loud in the darkness of their bedroom. Beth loves it, she loves him sleepy but holds her ground.

There’s a short pause, as she continues to stroke his temple. She’s hoping he decides to go back to sleep, he’s waiting for her to get back into their bed. For a moment, it’s a stalemate. Then, he gives.

Another groan - a purely theatrical protest, he certainly could answer a work text at any hour of the night.  He runs his hands over his face trying to clear the sleep and then continues to make his little show by lumbering out of bed as if this asshole ever had an ungraceful day in his life. “I’m goin’ wit you.”

She huffs. “I’m fine.”

“Nah, you want to do this now. So we’re gonna do it.”

“Go back to bed.” Beth sternly whispers, trying to keep her voice down. For who she isn’t sure. They’re alone, the kids at their respective parents for the week. Maybe she does it to maintain the decency of the hour.

“You go back to bed.”

His fingers reach out to her, curling under the top of her pajamas, and pulling her closer towards the mattress. Rio’s hands are warm and big against the softness of her skin there. She considers relenting, inviting his body to curl back around her, knows she could probably get an orgasm out of this. But, the children!

“Let’s just buy it tomorrow.”

A year ago she would have scoffed, offended. Now she just rolls her eyes at him the dark. Maybe he can’t quite see but she knows that he knows.

She catches his hands. Slaps him on the wrist.

“If you’re coming with me you have to behave.”

“No.”

“Christopher.”

“Fuck. You sound like my middle school math teacher, Mrs. Ramos-“

“Or like your mother.”

“Or like a really mean librarian. Mrs. Castillo-“

“Oh my god. Let’s go.”

-

Rio collapses on a chair at the island, blearily keeping an eye on her. Beth turns on one of the lights in the kitchen. Halfway through her checking unearthing the proved dough, he starts playing Animal Crossing on his phone. She recognizes the app jingle.

“The kids play that.”

“E’rybody plays it.”

“I mean kids do.”

“Sweetheart, it was on the GameCube in ‘01.”

Beth scrunches her face at him. It’s an ungodly hour, he’s pouting like her youngest, who is for the record an eight-year-old who plays Animal Crossing, and watering his fucking crops or fishing or whatever. She lets herself digress because certainly, she wouldn’t be the first to indulge in childish behavior. Also, the fucking GameCube? This guy. “How old are you again?”

“Four years younger than you.” This is a pattern they’ve fallen into, a refrain. The other day he finally showed her his license but then she reminded him, it could be fake for all she knew.

“No one our age played the GameCube.”

“Your age maybe. My age they did.”

Fuck him.  She glowers.

“What, your old hubby never played Galaga? Or whatever the fuck boorish white dudes played in the 90s? Bet he was a Tetris guy.”

“First of all, Tetris is fine. I’ve seen you play Tetris! And white people play Animal Crossing.” She ends a touch snidely.

“Yeah. Like I said, everybody plays it. Nintendo is the shit.”

She would know. All of her children, and her pseudo-eldest, Annie, cannot remove themselves from whatever the Nintendo calls itself these days. All of Annie’s social media updates have been about her virtual island. And then Ruby had started using Sarah’s console, and joined Annie there - on that island. They took kind-of cute cartoon pictures wearing matching hot pink outfits with what they adamantly claimed was “juice” but was definitely a daiquiri. Beth was just feeling a little left out is all.  

“I thought you said you didn’t like the phone game.”

“It’s not good like the Switch, but it’s a fix.”

“Uh huh.”

“Besides your sister is blowin’ shit way the fuck out of proportion on New Horizons. I already visited her damn tacky island three times this week. She bought a fuckin’ port-a-potty and put it in her house. It’s fuckin’ weird. She kept insisting we take screenshots by it-“

Beth stops listening, distracted as an image of a cartoon Rio drinking mimosas with Annie and Ruby on stylized furniture flashes in her mind's eye.

“Don’t pout, darlin’.”

She scoffs and then her lips purse a little more.

“It ain’t becoming’.”

The bowl she’s working with clatters a bit as her movements become more vigorous.

“Did you just tell me to ‘smile’ at four-thirty in the morning?”

He opens his mouth as if to answer her, shuts it, and pointedly continues tapping on his phone. After a minute he lowers the volume. All that can be heard is the jingle playing softly.

She continues shaping the bread. Rio migrates over to the living room and Beth hears him collapse on the couch. She stores the bread, tucking it back into it’s proving spot, and sets the timer so she can wake up and bake the dough later in the morning.

“Elizabeth.” It’s not lush, weighty like he usually says it. He lets sleep curl around it and soften the syllables. She comes to perch against the open entrance of the living room. Rio’s pulled a blanket down with him on the couch and is being purposefully charming. It works but god is it annoying.

“Sweetheart, c’mere.”

She stares at him.

“Don’t be that way.”

Beth lofts her head. “I’m not mad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“C’mere, please.”

He lifts the blanket. She glimpses his hoodie-clad body underneath and she knows the toasty warmth of his body and she knows she’s mad for no reason, so she tries to get over it, and goes to lie with him on the couch.

They wrap themselves around each other. He kisses her forehead. “You just feel old because it’s five in the mornin’ and that makes everyone feel like shit.” He dips down to kiss the grooves under her eyes. “You interrupted our beauty sleep.”

His kisses travel the frame of her face and then he continues.

“Also, your girlfriends and I aren’t going to decide we all like each other better and un-invite you to the party.” He pecks her lips. “Besides your sister’s a freak and there’s no way she’s replacin’ you as my best friend. No way anyone is replacin’ you.”

“Not even Mick?”

She notices that he makes an uncommitted noise, but allows herself to melt further into their embrace, kisses his shoulder. She lets herself be soft.

“I love you.”

His hands dip lower to the swell of her ass. She can tell he’s eyeing the way her boobs swell up pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“Either say you love me back or go to sleep, Christopher.”

He chuckles and whispers a quick I-love-you into the shell of her ear and then a nip, “How much time we got before you check the bread again?”

Now she’s laughing. Fuck it. They’re up anyway. She kisses him, dips down to suck a mark into one of the wings at his neck.

“Plenty of time.”

[supercantaloupe]

this oklahoma fucks

my thoughts on the oklahoma revival (6/8/19 matinee) under the cut! 

this show. i was absolutely blown away. i see a lot of shows (one glance at my theater page will tell you that much...) and at this point it’s rare that i see something which i feel in my gut from start to finish how incredible it is, but, wow, oklahoma lives up to the hype. it’s 2 hours and 45 minutes plus a 15 minute intermission, and i swear i didn’t stop grinning or giggling for that entire 3 hours.

it’s also sometimes a rarity now for me to go into a show blind. i certainly was familiar with oklahoma before today -- i knew the basic storyline, i’d even heard some of the songs from this cast, and hell, the musical’s almost a century old (it basically founded the modern broadway musical!) -- but i didn’t know it very intimately going in. from the moment i entered that theater, though, i was enraptured. 

the show has a comfortable feel to it, with its old-timey wild-west drawling dialect and a loveable-as-always rogers & hammerstein score, but it’s reimagined in a way that makes it feel both completely new and completely familiar at once. it’s an intimate theatrical experience, one i haven’t really felt since great comet took its final bows. i’ve always been a fan of intimate and innovative productions but this show really excelled. playing in the round is the perfect way to welcome an audience into your world on a personal level, but oklahoma takes it a step further. there isn’t even a shift in lighting from the beginning of the show; it looks the same from the momeny you walk in and sit down through the first two numbers. it’s a small detail but it really works wonders in creating a world that the audience feels a welcome part in from the get-go. and that’s not even mentioning the tables onstage, the crockpots full of chili, the table of yet-to-be-made cornbread (all of which gets to be enjoyed by the audience during intermission!). and the string band right there on stage! with pedal steel and mandolin and banjo! what better way to welcome your audience into your world than to incorporate real elements of americana: a barnyard hoedown, a cultural centerpiece in american mythos and identity. (plus, i’m always a sucker for country twang in my music and a band onstage. pit musicians never get enough love!)

and man oh man, the cast. they are all phenomenal. my selected and personal commendations go out to mary testa, whose aunt eller COMMANDED the room and oozed a lovable familial flavor; ali stroker, for her charming, bubbly, and completely endearing brand of wildness in her portrayal of ado annie; patrick vaill, for his deeply chilling performance as jud; rebecca naomi jones, for the surprisingly deep layers of thought and emotion she brings to her laurey; and to damon daunno, for his downright enchanting vocal performance, southern drawl, and ass-waggling swagger all the way to the drama of his more serious scenes, like in “poor jud is dead” and the wedding (dudes got raaaaange. just sayin.). i need a cast album immediately!

it needs to be mentioned how much personality and charm put into every aspect of each actor’s performances. the choreography was just wonderful, from the corn-shucking “many a new day” to curly and will prancing around the stage slapping their thighs (there’s a lot of chaps and a lot of ass wiggling in this show. make your peace with that right away.) to the delightful hoedown-style group dancing in “farmer and the cowman”. i’m absolutely delighted at how seamlessly integrated the wheelchair-bound ali stroker is in every aspect of choreography -- it’s skillful, it’s full of personality, it’s unique and fun to watch. really the only choreography (and really the only scene in general) that i failed to fully appreciate was the dream ballet: as cool as it was, i personally am just Not A Dancer in any shape or form and such an interpretive, almost contextless solo dance kind of flew over my head. i still appreciate the artistry and skill involved in it but i’m sure there are other people out there who got a lot more out of that scene than i did.

to take a moment to appreciate the more technical aspects of the show: firstly, i was impressed by the subtlety employed in the sound design. i’m pretty sure all the actors were all wearing body mics (pretty much standard practice nowadays), though they were either very hard or downright impossible to spy. (nice job to the costume and hair departments for concealing those even from audiences so close!) my theory is that the mics were placed higher up on the actors’ heads, effectively concealing them in their hair and distancing the mic from their mouths -- thereby lessening their ability to pic up the actor’s voices. in a huge, proscenium-style theater, that’d be a problem, but here, in a theater and a show where intimacy is the name of the game, that works. you still heard the actors’ voices from where they were onstage, not just pumped in from speakers (if they were at all!). effects were used sparingly but to great effect: i noticed even in the opening number the reverb effect used only at the ends of certain words or lines to evoke the echoing of a voice over the prairie, which i thought was a very nice touch. and in addition to body mics there were handheld and stage mics, which indeed functioned as handheld and stage mics, with a clear auditory difference between when the actors used them and when they didn’t. again, this built up the believability and intimacy of the world, as well as contributing another layer of coolness to certain scenes (like “poor jud is dead”, which is done almost entirely in the dark and almost entirely on one handheld mic between curly and jud. the upped volume and closeness evoked using the handheld mic brought the entire audience in that much closer into that small and intimate space of the smokehouse and heightened the tension masterfully.)

and, oh my god, the lighting. the biggest snub of the tonys this year is oklahoma not even getting a NOMINATION (atw turn on your location i just wanna talk). i mentioned before those house lights not changing from when you enter the theater through the first few numbers but when they do -- when curly and laurey lock eyes and really consider each other -- there’s a sudden and unexpected shift, going from the bright full house lights to dark everywhere, with the stage lit completely in a dreamlike green. and just as quickly as it came it goes, snapping back to those full house lights again. what a simple but very strong way to convey a message! the show also makes really great use of directional lighting, projection, and colored ambient lighting, with the latter i find particularly notable in the late part of the barn party scene when laurey has her encounters with jud and curly (with these interactions lit a cool and creepy red, mostly by the colored fairy lights strung from the ceiling among the streamers). also an effective surprise is this show’s use of blackouts, its use of complete darkness. i’ve seen a lot of shows but i’ve NEVER seen a show use a blackout like this before. 

for example, in the scene leading up to “poor jud is dead”, when curly goes to talk to jud in the smokehouse, the lights suddenly cut out, entirely, like we’ve stepped into a dark and sordid little corner of the world, jud’s domain. the whole beginning of this scene is played ENTIRELY in the dark, with naught but the sound of the two men’s conversation to tell us what’s going on. it’s creepy as hell and so effective. and then, as curly sings, a projector comes on, shining onto the back wall of the theater, an extreme black-and-white closeup, first of jud, then of curly, and of the two of them together, literally being broadcast from a camera held right up then and there. and after the song, after the projection fades away, we get a single spotlight, a pinpoint of light streaming from above; it shines onto the table directly between the two men, illuminating that patch of space, casting an eerie glow on the scene. and then, finally, the end, when auntie eller walks in, and the lights fade up just a bit, like would realistically happen if someone cracked open the door in a dark room. everything about the lighting in this scene plays up the creepiness of jud, the unpredictability of his madness, it plays with the suspicion and nerves of the audience by literally depriving them of information in the form of visuals. it plays similarly to jud’s and laurey’s encounter in act ii, when the lights cut to complete black again as he kisses her. we can’t see them, but we hear everything: kissing. metal clinking. footsteps, retreating. and then, those red party lights fade in, just enough to see laurey retreat to the opposite end of the stage, just enough to see jud’s unbuckled belt and confused, angry expression.

yeah, this oklahoma doesn’t pull its punches when it comes to jud. they make it crystal fucking clear who he is and what he’s trying to do. the lights, the sound, the whole production works to this end. and it doesn’t pull its punches with its finale, either. those of you familiar with the original show know that jud shows up to the wedding with a knife, and after a skirmish with curly, ends up falling on it and dying. this oklahoma did something else: jud shows up, asking only for a kiss from the bride and to give a gift to the groom. inside the box he brings is a shiny pistol, thrust into curly’s hand and trained on jud, standing open and ready for death, a forced assisted suicide. and after several long, tense, silent seconds, curly pulls the trigger. (i actually wasn’t even sure if they were going to go that far, but, yeah, they did that.) and the blood that splatters both on jud’s shirt and on the faces and white wedding outfits of laurey and curly is copious, and raw. it stays there for the rest of the show, a reminder. the finale ultimo is no longer a happy, triumphant reprise of the title number. it’s sung, powerfully and communally, by everyone with dead-fucking-straight faces. 

this isn’t your grandmother’s oklahoma, that’s for sure. 

what it is is a fantastic new staging of one of the biggest, most familiar classic pieces of american theater ever written. it’s simultaneously a back-to-its-roots retelling and a refreshing new take of classic material. it manages to be fresh and nostalgic, old and contemporary, mythologized and contemporary all at once. it’s not quite a masterpiece, but it’s damn near close to it. 

in short, i haven’t seen a show this good in a long time. if you get the chance, you should too. it’s not one you’ll want to miss.

[freckledskittles]

104th SSBU Mains

In the midst of playing Super Smash Bros Ultimate and the trailer for the second half of SNK’s third season, this heap of crap came out of nowhere and now it’s the only thing I can think about

I don’t know a lot about some of these series so please excuse me for any mistakes or inaccuracies!

x-x-x

Eren: Roy. He got into Fire Emblem when he first played SSB:Melee, and he fell in love with that red-haired boy. When he plays Ultimate, Eren is less likely to stick to one character (his argument is that “everyone is good and I love all of them DON’T MAKE ME CHOOSE”), but when he has to, he knows his boy Roy is there for him. Alternatives are Ryu, Mega Man, and Zelda, which, in his mind, if you’re going to play anyone, they’re the best options.

Fun fact: half of the reason he plays Ryu is to bug Armin to be Ken since “they’re best friends and we’re best friends and you look like Ken.” Same for Simon and Richter.

Mikasa: Young Link. LOZ is her favorite video game series by far (Majora’s Mask is her favorite hmu about Mikasa headcanons I love her) and when she heard he was coming back to Smash, she was sold on him before the game was out. She likes any Link, but Young Link has a charm and holds a lot of nostalgia for her. And she likes how he's the only one of the Link trio to have fire arrows. Alternatives are Yoshi (somewhat for the IRS meme but mostly for her fave green dinosaur), Mewtwo for the Pokemon representation, and Samus. Nothing beats an “I’m strong” catchphrase than the first female video game protag.

Armin: Mega Man. Of the video game series he’s gotten into, Legend of Zelda and Mega Man are the ones he’s most loyal too. For Ultimate, he’s more into the mini easter eggs that Mega Man’s moves give to other characters in the franchise than winning the game, and will probably play the single player modes the most, but he doesn’t mind fighting his friends. Alternatives include Pit, Pikachu and Falco; he doesn’t know much about Falco or Pit, except what he’s heard from everyone else, but it’s better than giving into Eren’s whim to play as Simon or Ken.

Jean: Ike. He grew up on that good old GameCube system, so of course he’d go to Ike, whose first game was for GC. He won’t admit it out loud, because he’s a Cool Guy™, but RPGs are near and dear to this boy’s heart. And what better way to share that love than with a blue-haired boy with a big ass sword? Also, he’s pretty good at Smash? So whatever smack talk he has is actually backed by some type of skill and experience. Alternative mains are Zelda, Young Link, and Pichu, all which took a very deep study of each character to develop. It was a serious decision.

Marco: Link. Like Armin, he has limited experience in videogame knowledge, and he’s just here to play with some characters and sass his friends. Link is the one he knows best, and the BOTW design is really pleasing to him. He’s really not here to win or show off how good he is cough cough Erejean. He just wants to have fun! And will do so in ways that make everyone regret handing him the controller, but he doesn’t know that. (Ridley just came out how the hell has he already mastered him?) Alternatives are Ness for the baseball references, Kirby for the deceit, and Marth for a cute blue-haired boy.

Fun fact: it’s a running joke among the 104th nerds that Ness’s design was inspired by Marco, and just to play into the joke, Marco has learned how to imitate Ness’s voice perfectly. For shits and giggles, he’ll spam the “okay” taunt if he’s doing better.

Sasha: Kirby. A classic, in her opinion, and the most versatile character since he can get the move of any player he inhales. There’s nothing more terrifying than a smiling pink glob hitting you with a hammer and nothing will change her mind. She put in so many hours to Kirby’s GBA and DS games when she was a kid that she can’t not play as him. Alternatives are Toon Link and Luigi for the GameCube nods, and Daisy. She makes up for losses by whispering “hi I’m Daisy” under her breath. It has a 95% chance of making them laugh.

Fun fact: the 104th buds have enforced a ban on Sasha’s Luigi when they’re playing together. He is too strong for mortal minds to comprehend.

Connie: Diddy Kong. The peanut gun really sold it for him, and he loves that Donkey Kong being the big goof that he is has a tiny sidekick like Diddy. He’s not here to win or compete seriously—he just wants to have fun. And that fun requires shooting peanuts and slapping opponents with his tail, but he’s not keeping track. Alternatives are Snake for laughs, Villager for the Look Of Death from that one skin (you know which one), and Peach. If he and Sasha are on a team, it’s a nightmare of hip bumps and golf clubs. If they’re facing off, No One Is Safe.

Reiner: Samus. As a kid, his mom wanted him to get into video games that were “safe for the kids” and so there was a bit of a limit to what he could play. But Metroid was something she okayed, and the series now has a special place in his heart. Samus is amazing to him? A bounty hunter in space who fights a giant dinosaur and is also a woman? He’s proud of that. Alternatives include Donkey Kong (more to play with Connie than anything else, really), Mario, and Olimar. Pikmin was another series he was able to play; if he had to choose, the white Pikmin are his favorite.

Bertholdt: Olimar. Sorta like Reiner, his video game knowledge is limited, but more by choice than anything. His knowledge stems from friends and his brothers playing DS games. (Their favorite is Spirit Tracks hmu about Bert headcanons I love him.) He chose Olimar, who he recognizes thanks to Reiner, but also because he looks like he is waaay out of his element. Which is how Bert feels 98% of the time. Alternatives are Marth, Shulk, and Pit; he didn’t choose them until he played at least some of their main games. (Which he did end up doing and enjoyed them all.)

Annie: Incineroar. She’s a Pokemon girl when no one’s watching, and that asshole cat pulling a clothesline on stage is exactly why she’s playing the game. She didn’t choose Litten when she played Sun/Moon (Rowlet is her dear round boy), but by god if she’s not going to take her chance. She was skeptical of Incineroar at his release but once she played him, she was a fan. The stone-like facade she wears playing him doesn’t help either—it’s win or death. Alternatives are King K. Rool, Zelda, and Ridley. She makes heavy characters look easy and the 104th does not appreciate it.

Ymir: Little Mac. A 5′7″ boxer from the Bronx is squaring up to fight a fire-breathing dragon, an anthropomorphic hedgehog, and a pink blob that wants to put her to sleep. It doesn’t matter—he’s here to beat everyone up and he won’t stop until he wins. She may be biased (modern au headcanon that she’s from the Bronx what up) which some will allege is her reason for picking Little Mac, but that’s just slander to her. Alternatives include Mega Man (after so many years of not having that iconic blue boy), Chrom (“that’s an ugly ass tattoo put some sleeves on”), and Sheik.

Fun fact: it takes every bit of her lesbian heart to not choose the girls because the 104th knows her attraction to long blonde hair and is waiting for her to do it. And sometimes, you need Peach to shut them up.

Historia: Marth. He’s a royal blue boy! Look at how pretty! Soft headcanon that Historia likes fighting games and RPGs because hello punching bad guys and using sword to battle evil? Yes please she wants that. She’ll distract everyone with praises of her character and “how beautiful” they are while attacking the 104th with every chance she gets. She’s here to win, and when she will, she just smiles and says “don’t worry we’re all winners.” But everyone knows who the One True Winner is. Alternatives are Ryu, Zero Suit Samus, and Pichu. When she chooses Pichu, the 104th buds know the game is over.

[snkpolls]

SnK S3E2 Poll Results (Anime Only Viewer Version)

The poll closed with 208 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note this is the anime only viewer version of the poll. Manga readers, please click here for the results of the manga reader poll! 

Rate the episode

Without much room for argument, the majority of respondents have voted in favor of this episode being amazing!

Really liked it. The Levi vs MPs action scene was amazing!

Rate the ending

Over half of voters loved the ending, while a small 2% could have done without it.

How do you feel about Linked Horizon performing the ending this time?

As expected, over half of the fandom is happy that they are back, regardless if it’s the ED or the OP. Attack on Titan just wouldn’t feel the same without them, would it?

A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one

Awful

Which one is your favorite ED?

The largest group of voters agree that the new ending outshines the others, with great escape langing in second. Yuugure no Tori is barely beat out by season one’s first ending.

Which scene(s) did you like best?

Levi vs. Kenny/MP’s unsurprisingly topped the votes by over double of everything else. With it’s stellar animation and high stakes action, it’s no surprise that it had major appeal to the audience! The scene that came in second was Kenny saying Levi’s full name out loud for the first time.

Even though I love mikasa and all, They should’ve spent less time on Mikasa and more time on the others

Jean <3

levi is 11/10

Armin kawaii >3<

Mikasa was amazing.

KYEEEENNYYYYYYYY

On a scale of 1-5 how much did the animation during the Levi vs. MP chase blow you away?

It took the animation staff one month to create this 30 second sequence and their efforts really paid off. The scene was a huge hit, and both anime and manga fans were blown away by the results!

Really liked it. The Levi vs MPs action scene was amazing!

On a scale of 1-5, how daddy is Kenny?

While there’s definitely some mixed feelings about whether Kenny is really daddy material, more voters than not wouldn’t mind him being theirs.

How did Erwin light the match with one hand?

Will the mystery ever be solved? We don’t know, but the majority of voters are quite certain that Erwin’s chiseled jawline may have something to do with it!

How excited are you to see kidwin’s eyebrow game next week?

The majority of respondents are excited to see adorable kidwin in the next episode!

Is your heart ready for Historia's childhood flashback?

75% of respondents are excited to finally learn Historia’s backstory. Some of you are even sure you’re going to cry! We hope that it meets your expectations!

On a scale of 1 - 5, how much do you relate to Bartender-kun?

We all have a little bit of anxious eek’ing bartender inside of us! Well, all but 7% of us anyway.

Would you want Levi as your motivational counselor?

Nearly 75% of voters appreciate Levi’s realism and bluntness and wouldn’t mind a little straightforward advice of their own. About 25% of voters would rather be approached in a different way.

Does Erwin have a gambling problem?

71% are confident that Erwin’s tendency to gamble is totally fine and the best option for our main cast. 28% believe that gamblers anonymous would be a good choice.

What was your reaction to “Levi Ackerman?”

Unfortunately it was unavoidable for the vast majority of voters to avoid this major spoiler. Although there are a good 23% of voters who may have managed to avoid this spoiler all this time and were quite perplexed at the revelation. We are glad to see that some of you still managed to be surprised!

I didn't even realize

Cardi b laugh

How do you feel about Armin shooting with no hesitation?

Nearly 50% of respondents were really happy with this development, finding it a cool thing to add to Armin’s character. Meanwhile, a combined 42% either have mixed feelings or feel badly for Armin. We hope you keep looking forward to his development from here!

A Slap On Titan has ruined Armin for me, I expected him to enjoy it.

See, that's how you do character development.

With more of Kenny, what is your opinion of him now?

Most voters seem to be in favor of Kenny and are looking forward to seeing more of him. The general consensus that nearly 50% of us can agree on is that BANG BANG was indeed a memorable moment we can all appreciate.

I still hate him, but you have to admit that him going into the saloom with the whole "Bang Bang" sound effect was so hilarious!

Interesting how he flips from very serious to "Yahoo!" and back.

Hilarious and BANG BANG!!!

Levi mentions there is no right or wrong with what they did. Do you think our protagonists killing people was the right choice?

Most responders aren’t as concerned about the morality of the action, but rather that they had no other choice if they were to defend themselves from the enemy. There is a grey area there that the characters have to embrace if they want to survive. As manga readers, the poll hosts would love for you guys to please keep considering this theme moving forward! It only continues to get deeper and more exciting to watch!

Ain't a question of right or wrong, it's a question of kill or be killed.

I agree with the first three points. I think if i was in the same predicament as the Survey corps,  I  legitimately would have done the same to survive.

How about torturing the MPs for information?

The largest group of voters believe that the torture of Sannes was justified in order to get information. 25% believe that Sannes had it coming to for all the pain he’s caused others. A smaller percentage are a bit horrified by Levi and Hange’s actions, however.

I had mixed feelings,  but the sixth option, the first and the second option. They werent talking, and Hanji and Levi had to do something to save Historia and Eren.

I'm mildly horrified they actually seemed to like it

Still no right or wrong

Armin says that they are no longer good people. Do you agree?

While “Only on Sundays” was a bit of a joke answer, we think it’s safe to assume that most of you believe that they are still good people who simply had to get their hands dirty for survival. There is no right or wrong in that game, after all. About 25% of voters, however, disagree and believe that ideals are most important in any situation.

I think they are still good people deep down. They had to do what they needed to do in order to survive. Is it morally wrong? Yeah, but just thinking back to what Levi said makes sense.

Is anyone a good person?

Like Levi's 'right or wrong' comment, they're neither good nor bad, just trying to do what they think is right.

Hange states that Eren is going to be eaten. What are your thoughts?

Nearly half of respondents are confident that Eren’s fate isn’t sealed just yet due to protagonist armor. Still, there are quite a few who are on edge about Eren’s fate or just plain confused in general. Please hang tight guys!

Relates to ymir eating that boy that was with reiner and annie

Wasnt he already eaten by some random Titan already? And turned into a titan for the first time as a result?????

By who? Also Erwin didn't seem phased.

You'd better eat him before he eats you

SNK has a history of quick and understated major reveals, how did you feel about Sannes’ quick confession about the Reiss family being the true royal line?

Many respondents found it comical how quickly Sannes confessed about the truth of the Reiss family. However, more than half either missed the initial reveal completely or believe that there should have been more focus on it as it was being stated.

It was dramatically short

They will focus more on it

Which group of characters are your favorite?

Where do you primarily discuss the series?

Additional thoughts on the episode?

Amazingly done & manga readers are tripping

I am liking what I am seeing so far, but I hope they give some of the scenes the time to breathe. There were moments in the both episodes where the transitions between scenes seemed jarring to me. I had also heard that this arc was more about character development, but so far I have seen very little of that.

I'm saddened that Dimo Reeves had become such a throw away character.

Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before

Too much in too little time, episodes like this should be double the time

Beast Titan WHEN

Well, fuck

Thank you to everyone who participated! We’ll see you again on Monday! 

[asecretsummer-rpgpromo]

WANTED! FC can be changed!

Name: Lauren Hayes Age: 34 Sexuality: Bisexual Gender: Female Portrayed By: Meghan Ory (not negotiable) Availability: Open

“I promise you. We’re going to find this psycho.”

→ Background

Lauren grew up in Manchester in a big house that was always full of noise. She had seven brothers and sisters and their parents loved them all very much. They did their very best to give them all the love and attention they deserved, they treated their children as equals. Lauren’s childhood was pretty near perfect. Her mother was a stay at home housewife and was very happy to conform to the role, always in the kitchen baking or keeping a neat house. Helen Hayes loved things to look perfect. She took pride in a tidy home even with all those children running around. Lauren’s father, Graham, was the Chief for the local police department. He worked hard, often long hours, and was usually tired but he never took anything out on his family. Graham Hayes was always ready to have a laugh, take his kids to the park or drop them off in town or at friends house… always there. That’s what her parents were. Always there. Until, one day, they weren’t. Lauren came home to find her parents gone. Nothing was removed from the house but they were nowhere to be seen. The police, their friends, found them later. In the woods. Dead. Graham had been working a case and it had come back to bite him. Hard. The man he was about to put it prison had murdered Graham and Helen while they were walking their four dogs through the forest.

Lauren, who was by this time in training to be an officer herself, took their deaths very hard. Particularly the nature of it. She had always loved her father, looked up to him, wanted to be just like him. She poured herself into training and, when she finally made it onto the force, she also took it upon herself to track down the man who had murdered her parents and torn her family apart… there was a terrible struggle before Lauren’s partner burst in and slapped handcuffs on the guy. Lauren had been out for blood but seeing the man thrown behind bars was almost as satisfying as murder probably would have been… besides, there was no way she wanted to be like him. Her father wouldn’t want that for her. Her father would have wanted her to be a good cop. Her father would have wanted a lot… Lauren was determined not to let him down.

→ Back to Baberton

Lauren made the decision to come up to Baberton to help the local police department with their serial killer because it reminded her of her parents. Particularly the cases of Annie Pierce, Bella Winters, and Sophie Baker. All found in the woods. She didn’t want this small town to suffer any more than it already had. A serial killer is a big thing, too, and Lauren knew it would help her career if she came to Baberton and helped collar the killer. She thinks her father would have approved of her decision to come here and help and, despite the worries of her siblings, it is what keeps her going even when things get dark. Her father was, and always will be, her strength. She lives her life by the same code he lived and she is determined to always do him proud.

A little while into her stay, Lauren met Brooke Ford, someone she immediately clicked with and felt an attraction to. Lauren had been debating going home at the time but she decided to extend her stay while she got to know Brooke. Then the next murder (Brooke’s ex husband) happened and Lauren had to stay… but her relationship then fell apart shortly after when she found out that Brooke had stolen some of her files. Lauren was angry and upset and, though she understood maybe why Brooke might have done it, she felt like the trust was sort of cut off and she ended things, instead focusing on her work. Then, recently, Brooke was murdered by an obsessed friend, Cameron Brady. Lauren isn’t sure what to do or how to feel…. she’s devastated despite the fact they’d broken up. She missed Brooke so much and feels like she’s lost a part of herself - but she has to keep working, she has to fix this town and she has to fix the hole in her own soul… whatever the cost.

→ What’s Her Secret?

Was hit on by her sister’s husband and asked to join him in a threesome with a prostitute because of her bisexuality. Lauren was too shocked to tell her sister right away, ashamed as well, and has been trying to figure out what to do about it. Being in Baberton is a good way to keep her distance from the creep and she’s just trying to figure out how to break it to her poor sister, who will either be heartbroken or will find some way to place the blame on Lauren - which is what she’s most afraid of.

Shortly after her arrival, Lauren received a message from somebody calling themselves -A. It was a warning to stay out of their business but she didn’t take it lying down, nor was she scared like she probably should have been. At first she thought it was someone messing around but she received another soon after. Even when the cases were all wrapped up at the person calling themselves -A (Daisy Ramsey) was gone… the new -A sent her a similarly taunting text soon after they took over the game, letting her know that they were back, and out of her reach. Well, game on.

Has recently discovered that she has a heart condition that could interfere with her work. The condition actually makes her unfit for most of her work but Lauren has been keeping it hidden from her co-workers and her boss, determined not to lose her job or be moved down at all. Lauren wants to end the craziness going on here but she feels like she can’t do that if she’s chained to a desk.

She slept with Emma Williamson, Imogen Ford’s girlfriend (Imogen being Brooke’s daughter!). She’s pretty ashamed about it but there’s also something about the girl that just draws her in and Lauren is pretty confused about how to handle it all.

Main | Plot | Most Wanted | Ask

[enbysaurus-wrex]

All-American Boy chapter 3

Chapter 3

Take a chance, take your shoes off, dance in the rain.

-Panic! at the Disco, I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

Cas:

Cas squinted his eyes at his roommate. “What’s larking?” he asked, head tilted slightly and eyebrows knit together.

Dean barked out a laugh, bending over to clutch his stomach. “LARPING,” he clarified. “It stands for live action role playing. It’s not a Shakespearean bird, you loon.”

“Larks are real birds, Dean,” Cas said, smirk forming on his lips. “What does live action role playing intail?”

“Uh, basically it’s like an RPG in real life. You run around with foam swords or beanbags for magic and just… role play. It’s fun,” Dean said with a casual smile.

“Who’s all gonna be there?” Cas asked. It wasn’t as if he were shy or anything. It just took him a while to warm up to new people and crowds freaked him out a little bit.

“Uh, Charlie, of course,” Dean said, scratching the stubble forming on his chin as he tried to remember who all was coming. “And Gilda, probably. Kevin and Channing, Garth, and a few others. Not too many people but we need the numbers in order to be a university recognized club, you know.”

Cas nodded. “Yeah. Sounds fun. Will I have to buy anything or will stuff be provided?”

Dean shook his head. “No, we’ve got a few extra supplies for newcomers but if you come to more than two games you have to purchase your own and pay the five dollar club fee.”

“Sounds reasonable. What class are you?” Cas asked, curious. He’d played several RPGs before so he was familiar with how they worked… mostly. It wasn’t as if he’d played D&D or WOW. Just stuff like Dragon Age and Skyrim.

“I’m a warrior so I’m DPS. But you have your orcs who are the tanks, mages can be DPS or healers depending. You also have rogues which can specialize in archery or short range weapons like daggers or whatnot,” he explained and Cas nodded again. He figured it would be something like that.

“Great,” Dean said, opening his wardrobe and pulling out a foam longsword.

Cas chuckled. “Where did you get that? Narnia?” he asked, not able to hide his amusement.

“Nah,” Dean said with a shrug. “Just kinda a closeted nerd.”

“Well, in my opinion, closets are for clothes. You should always be open about who you are. Why hide it?” He recognized the hypocrisy in what he was saying of course. If only he could just practice what he preached. But it was easier said than done. Especially with his upbringing.

“Well, the game’s tonight at sundown,” Dean said, pulling some costume chainmail from the closet as well. “What do you usually play as? You’re a mage in Dragon Age, right?”

“Elf mage. But I don’t have a costume. Or ears…” Cas said with a frown.

“And they haven’t put up any of those Halloween Express stores yet… We could always try Goodwill. I’m sure you could turn some ugly dress into a mage’s robes. And Charlie actually has Hogwarts robes you could wear inside-out to hide the school insignia,” Dean said, looking him up and down. “They might be a little short and maybe a little tight in the arms, but I’m sure they’ll fit. They’re kinda loose on her.”

“Not all mages wear robes you know? Dorian in Dragon Age kinda just wears a tunic with leather and gauntlets underneath.”

Dean nodded. “And thigh highs,” he said with a chuckle. “And a wicked-ass curly mustache.”

“They aren’t thigh highs,” Cas corrected. “Probably just knee highs with leather pants.”

“And he forgot a sleeve, because he’s an ‘edgy Tevinter,’” Dean said, still chuckling.

Cas snorted. “I thought he was just doing that to be sexy,” he said and Dean barked out another laugh.

“Yeah, well, you can be whatever kind of mage you want. I, myself, go for the knight in shining armor look,” Dean said with a wink.

Cas tried not to read too much into it. He knew they were just playing around. He wasn’t ready to get his heart broken again.

Half an hour and one city bus later, Cas and Dean were walking through Goodwill, looking through the dresses in the women’s section.

“You’ll probably need a large or an XL since most women aren’t as… built as you are,” Dean said, looking through the appropriate sizes.

Cas nodded. “Most women also aren’t six foot,” he said, knowing he’d probably fit an XL better and going straight to that section. He tried not to think too hard about the fact Dean called him built. It was just an observation. Nothing more.

“What about this?” Dean asked, holding up a white tunic style dress with cut-out sleeves.

Cas observed the dress, picturing wearing black jeans and boots with it. It would be a bit like what Dorian wore. Enough to make it work anyway.

“That could work if I put a belt around the waist and chest…” Cas mused.

“And Charlie has black arm-warmers you could wear as gauntlets. It’s not perfect but…”

“It’ll do,” Cas said, grabbing the garment and making his way towards the dressing rooms.

In front of the mirror, Cas stripped off his tee shirt and slipped on the dress. Other than his collar bones showing, it seemed to work pretty well. Maybe he could wear a scarf with it to make it more ‘magie.’ Afterall, he wasn’t supposed to be Dorian. He was just Dorian inspired. He could even draw on a goatee using eyeliner to set him apart from the character.

Back at Birchwood, Dean and Cas went to Charlie’s room to bum the arm warmers and some eyeliner off of her. She was so excited Cas was joining them tonight, she gladly gave over the supplies, telling him he could keep them for future cosplays if he’d like.

“Are you sure?” Cas asked, looking down at the black pencil and bit of fabric in his hands.

Charlie nodded. “Oh yeah. I have way too many sticks of eyeliner because my parents always give me makeup as stocking stuffers. And I’ve only worn the arm warmers once. They’re a little too emo for my tastes,” she said, cringing slightly.

Dean laughed. “I always seem to get car accessories in my stocking,” he said, shaking his head. “I have this huge collection of air fresheners and no car to put them in.”

Cas smiled fondly, remembering Christmases past. “I would always get more candy than one person could eat and my dad would end up stealing most of it even though I hid it under my bed.”

“Parents…” Charlie said, shaking her head and Cas tried not to be saddened by the memories.

“Parents,�� he said in agreement.

After eating breakfast for dinner at Westwood (and yes, it was just as packed as Dean said it would be) the three of them made their way out to the Quad.

“Dean!” a small-framed blonde girl shouted and ran up to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. He picked her up and spun her around.

“Missed you kiddo,” he said into her hair before setting her down.

“Jo,” he said, addressing the girl. “This is Cas, my roommate. Cas, this is Jo. She’s Bobby’s daughter and a freshman in Honors College. She has an on-campus job so she got to come up a week earlier, but unfortunately has been just too busy to stop by and see me.” He ruffled her hair and she slapped away his hand.

“Bobby who owns the auto shop?” Cas asked.

Jo nodded. “Yup. That’s my daddy. Grew up around cars my whole life but what I really want to do is teach. Well… and coach. I’m on the volleyball team here.”

Cas’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’re in Honors College, have a job, and are in a sport? That’s a lot.”

Jo shrugged. “It’s not that bad. I tested out of a lot of the required classes and have a couple of semesters of college credit under my belt so I’m only taking twelve credit hours.”

“Tell him what you wanna teach,” Dean said, sounding rather proud of her.

“Physics,” Jo answered, a bit shyly. “I’ve always been drawn to the sciences, you know?”

Dean put his arm around her, pulling the girl to his side. He kissed her on the top of the head.

Cas felt like he was going to be sick. It didn’t come as a surprise that Dean had a girlfriend. He just wasn’t prepared for how bad it would feel. It had only been a week but he was falling for the man. Hard.

Dean:

Dean couldn’t be more proud of Jo. He kissed the top of her head and smiled down at her, her eyes shining back up at him. He knew the girl had a crush on him and that she had since they were children. They had always been really close and were open with their affections. But for all the heart eyes she made at him, he had only ever thought of her as a sister. It’s not as if he’d never told her that either. He figured she was just holding out until the day he changed his mind. Which was never ever going to happen. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t find her attractive. She was very cute. It was just that it would be so… weird. They’d known each other since daycare.

“Hey, Dean,” Max said, approaching with a small wave, his twin sister Alicia right behind him.

Max on the other hand… He’d met the dark skinned boy in freshman biology and had been harboring a crush ever since.

“Hey!” Dean said, letting go of Jo to hug each of the twins. “How are your moms?”

“Oh, you know. They’re cops so they never get a day off together but are disgustingly hopelessly in love,” Max said as he fake gagged. “It’s sickening.”

Max and Alicia were adopted, their parents dying in a car crash when they were very young. Sheriffs Jody and Donna had taken them in when they were in grade school.

“Hey!” Alicia said, suddenly remembering something. “Max and I are going to a drag show tomorrow. Wanna come?”

“Is it a Prism thing?”

Max nodded. “Yep.” He turned to Charlie. “Didn’t see you at the first meeting, Charles.”

“Been busy with RA stuff,” Charlie told him.

“And gaming,” Max said with a laugh.

“And gaming,” Charlie repeated sheepishly.

“Oh, love the outfit,” Max said, finally noticing Cas.

His friend suddenly looked shy. “Thanks. We, uh, got it at Goodwill actually.”

“Nice,” Max said with a nod. “Hey, Dean, come meet the rest of the gang.” He ushered them towards where Gilda, Kevin, Channing, and Garth were chatting with two brunette girls. As soon as Charlie approached, Gilda was immediately at her side. “Guys, this is Annie and Krissy.”

“Alex,” the one brunette corrected.

“They’re both freshman in the prospect teaching program,” Jo said.

“Prospect?” Cas asked, doing that cute head-tilt thing he always did.

Jo nodded. “Yeah, they don’t accept you into the teacher’s college until your junior year. You have to take a test and everything.”

“But you can take the test sooner than that since you have so many credits built up?” Dean asked, putting his arm around her again.

“Maybe. I’d have to ask my counselor,” Jo admitted.

Dean nodded. “Maybe you can get your program counselor early,” he suggested. Freshman had a different guidance counselor their first year as a ‘general counselor’ and after that they got a counselor in their majors.

“Enough yacking!” Charlie said with command. “As your queen, I demand no talk of the outside world once one’s feet step into Moondoor.”

“Moondoor?” Cas asked, looking adorably confused.

“The Quad,” Dean whispered with a chuckle. “It’s what we call the kingdom the game takes place in.”

Cas nodded, suddenly looking serious.

“Now then,” Charlie said, clapping her hand behind her back and walking in a royal fashion. “I want each of you to split up into two teams. You will have fifteen minutes to strategize before the game begins.”

Cas stood back while the group formed into two teams.

“Wanna be on my team, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Sure,” the dark-haired man nodded. “Who else is on our team.”

“Team Badass is you, me, Max, Jo, and Krissy,” Dean said with a smirk. “And Team Loser over there is Garth, Alex, Kevin, Channing, and Gilda.”

“Charlie isn't playing?” Cas asked, a look of confusion on his face.

Dean shook his head, chuckling softly. “Nah, she is. She just floats around to wherever she's needed. Keeps things interesting,” he said with a smirk.

“Alright good people of Moondoor,” Charlie said, approaching the front of the group once again. “What be your team names?”

“Team Badass!” Dean shouted, earning a ripple of laughter from both teams.

“Acceptable,” Charlie said. “And your team?” she asked the second group.

“Team Ass-Kickers!” Garth shouted, putting out his palm to be high fived by Kevin.

Charlie chuckled and shook her head. She instructed each team to go over their teams plan of attack. After fifteen minutes she addressed the whole group again.

She cleared her throat several times and everyone stopped talking. “Let the game commence!” she shouted and Dean let off a battle-cry.

Cas:

LARPing turned out to be complete and utter chaos with people attacking one another with foam weapons, firing fake arrows, and throwing bean bags from a pouch around their waists and shouting spells like “incinerate!” and “immobilize!” at one another. In the end, Team Badass won.

Cas was so tired, he fell asleep that night the minute his head hit the pillow. The next morning he was sore, but a good sore, the kind of ache he felt after an extra long run.

He ate breakfast with Dean and Garth (nobody else was awake) and spent the late morning into the afternoon watching Stranger Things on Netflix with them.

The entire LARPing team met for dinner at seven at the Student Center. Cas had never belonged to a group before. It felt nice.

After dinner, he was invited to go with them to see a drag show but he politely declined. He had no issues with drag or even transgender people. He just wasn’t ready to go to an event like that.

On Sunday he went out to the Quad to read his chapters while Dean and Jo were at the recplex lifting weights. Soccer practice stared that week and Dean wanted to make sure he was at least in some sort of shape before the season began.

Every day that week, at five pm sharp, Cas went to the soccer field to watch Dean practice. Sometimes Jo, Charlie, or Garth would join him, but on Thursday he was alone watching the brilliant man he was falling more and more for each and every day wipe the field with the rest of his teammates. It was no wonder the guy was there on an athletic scholarship.

As a midfielder, it suddenly became obvious how Dean stayed in shape despite his, admittedly, horrible eating habits. He glided across the pitch like it was made of ice. Cas knew nothing about sports but he knew he was one impressive specimen, that was for sure.

After practice, they would always grab a bite to eat. Sometimes they were alone, other times, one of their friends joined. Oftentimes, it was Jo. Cas tried not to get jealous every time the two of them casually touched. He knew going into this that Dean probably didn’t go for men, and even if he did, clearly he and Jo were devoted to one another and Cas did not intend to be a homewrecker.

Dean:

It was after practice on Friday night and Dean was beat, even after the amazing waffles he’d just had at Westwood. If he was being honest with himself, the carbs were probably making him even more sleepy. Thank goodness Cas just wanted a simple night in playing video games. Dean could be down with that. Maybe Charlie or Garth would join them later.

After kicking off his cleats, he bent over to peel of his socks and shin guards and threw them in the corner of the room where his laundry bin was.

Cas wrinkled his nose as he put the game into his XBox 360. He’d been playing Dragon Age Inquisition on PS4 and this was the first time he’d booted the 360 up since he’d been rooming with Dean.

“You should have brought some of those car air fresheners with you, hang them by your stinky laundry.”

Dean chuckled and went over to retrieve his shin guards. “You’re no spring rose after a jog,” he told Cas before throwing the rancid object at him.

Cas ducked to avoid it. “Watch it,” he said, pointing a finger at him with false seriousness. “I will tell Charlie on you.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Dean asked, lifting up the other shin guard as if he was going to throw it.

“Do you want to watch me play Mass Effect or not?” Cas asked, sitting down on his banana chair and raising an eyebrow at Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes and took a seat next to Cas in his own gaming chair. He was more of a PC gamer himself and was glad Cas had brought along a television and a couple of consoles. Not knowing where to put them, the tv was sitting stacked on top of the mini fridge/microwave combo Dean rented and the consoles were stacked on top of the empty plastic milk crates Dean had packed his stuff in. It wasn’t pretty but it worked.

“Okay, what’s this game about?” Dean asked as the start menu loaded.

Cas pressed start and began creating his character.

“Uh, it’s a decision making sci-fi RPG. It has a bit of a Star Trek influence and is story based. There are more lines of dialogue than your average tv show. So, the gameplay is kinda… lacking, but it got a lot better by games two and three. Your decisions carry over from game to game as well as the friendships and romantic relationships.”

“Romantic relationships?”

“Yeah, you can sleep with members of your crew.”

“How very Kirk of you,” Dean observed with a chuckle.

Cas nodded as he focused on getting his character just right. “Yeah, they actually had a limited edition Mass Effect Cards Against Humanity pack. One of the cards was ‘fuckable aliens.’”

Dean snorted. “So, like blue chicks or something?”

“There are those,” Cas said as he chose his characters background and class. “But there’s also a few other human and alien options. More so in games two and three.”

“So, who can you fuck this game?”

“Well, since there’s no gay romance option in ME1 or I usually go for Liara - your typical hot blue alien chick - and then kind just roll the dice in Two,” he said with a chuckle. “But I’m pretty much just holding out for Kaiden in Three. Sometimes I’ll go for Cortez but-”

“Wait,” Dean said, swallowing hard. “You’re gay?”

“Um... “ Cas looked nervous. “My Commander Shepard is for sure.”

“No,” Dean shook his head, standing up quickly. “Are you?”

Cas looked down at his controller. He was still in character creation mode. “You went to a drag show. You’re friends with Charlie and Max… I didn’t think you’d have an issue with-”

Dean shook his head. No, if Cas were gay that would change everything. “It’s a yes or no question, Cas.”

Dean wasn’t sure why he was freaking out so much about this. Hell, he identified as bisexual so it wasn’t a homophobic response. But, nonetheless, the knowledge that Cas might be into him made him uneasy. Maybe it was because he was still so fixated on Max?

“You’re not forcing me out of the closet, Dean,” Cas said, looking up at him with fire in his eyes. “I don’t get what your issue is but-”

“Hey,” Dean said, kneeling down and putting his hand on the other man’s shoulder before he decided to smite him or something. “I’m just… going through my own shit. It has nothing to do with you.”

“So you don’t have an issue if I’m-”

“Not at all!” Dean said, squeezing his shoulder and looking him dead in the eyes. Those deep blue beautiful eyes. “I… It just came as a surprise, that’s all. I’m totally cool with it.” He shot him a charming smile. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“Okay…” Cas said tentatively before turning back to the tv.

To be continued...

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13196649/chapters/30569769

[momtaku]

SnK Chapter 91 Poll

I’ll be closing the chapter 91 poll tomorrow, so this is your last chance if you’d like to chime in.

Take the Poll

I’ve gotten 350+ responses thus far and tbh these results are the most interesting I’ve seen in terms of lack of consensus. 134 people have left their chapter thoughts, I’ll share a bunch of those below the read more. My favorite is listed first :)

*patrick star voice* WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE

If Levi is taking down the beast titan and he finds out that not only is Zeke already dead, but his replacement is a weak-brows version of Erwin, I really hope it gives him pause.  That could be such a heartbreaking, earth shattering moment for him and I hope Yams handles it right.

GABI! Just Gabi. She's perfect

Timeskips should be illegal

Seeing the extent of Marleyan brainwashing was exceedingly well done.

Imagine how the poor kid that inherited "Cartman" felt like upon learning that that thing was their award for winning the marleyan hunger games.

Very unexpected change of character view from our beloved heroes to their"enemy"'s point of view. But I also think it's come at a good time in the overall SnK storyline...let's not forget that the walled society probably has no records on how to build ships or sail on the sea.

Can someone just tell Isayama‚ preferably someone close to him so the message gets across‚ that this isnt how trench warfare fucking worked? WW1 didn't have pre-teen, half-naked Genki girls hopping over trenches, tossing dynamite sticks at armored trains. This chapter destroyed my suspension of disbelief beyond repair.

I liked we got more info about Marley, but the fact that Isayama isn't willing to confirm Ymir and Annie's fate is getting a bit annoying

I thought this chapter was actually pretty cool. I've fallen hopelessly in love with Gabi! Fingers crossed that Annie gets the f*** outta that crystal soon though!

The time skip was needed for story progression but a lot of important questions and interactions were skipped in terms of character development. I just hope we get some of them in flashbacks and not have them completely disregarded don't care about the new characters, but I'm okay as long as they don't take so much screen time and we can go back to our main cast soon enough

I honestly dislike how Isayama uses these new characters to show us what Marley and being a warrior is like, instead of showing us RBA and Zeke's past :(

I think the after-chapter freakout was a big overreaction. I mean we could kinda forsee the direction the manga was going to take after we learnt about the whole Marley/Eldia thing.

After reading the full chapter and talking to someone else about it, I feel better about the timeskip. This chapter made me feel for RBA more, because they must've started out like Gabi and the rest. I only hope that those kids don't have the same fate (but considering that it is snk, it's likely that they are going to suffer lbs). I'm just worried about the 104th and what's been going on with them. They've all grown, and Eren and Armin are closer to their death now :( I don't think I would've had a problem with the time skip if it wasn't for the 13 year thing. But overall, I'm pretty optimistic with where the story is going. I trust Isayama with his story telling. I just have to prepare myself in case of the worst.

Warriors were cool. That's what I consider to be AoT. But without actual Titans, it's just not as interesting. Neither are the WW1 vibes. I just want titans back.

I thought this was a pretty good world building chapter (despite the jarring time skip), especially since we've been waiting many chapters to see this place.  I don't ADORE these new characters, I'm more intrigued, which is better then hating them.  This is also a good set up chapter.  I'm interested to see if Reiner will interact with these new characters.  Since they look so similar to the 104th (design and personality), will he constantly be reminded of his past relationships with them?  Plus, will he see some of himself in them (specifically Gabi) and through them reminding of himself we'll see his backstory?  And is he going to just except his fate and get eaten, or be like "Screw this, nope, not dealing with it."

"WHAT" was legitimately the keyword for this chapter but I trust Isayama with the story and with our heroes+ I hope we'll get to see the Jaegers reunion before anything bad happens to Zeke...

Gabi is such a badass, omg, do you see it Eren? This is how you gettting out of horrible situations!

This chapter has really grown on the more times I read it.

Really enjoyed the way the characters were presented. It gives the reader the chance to see Marley's side of things without being forced to have a story-generated opinion on them (aka screaming at us to hate them) because quite frankly, I was rooting for those Warrior kids to succeed with their plan!

I think it is a very unusual way to tell a story,  however I also feel this could work for the best.... I think this time skip can actually go a long way towards making the coming conflict realistic. Rather than our protagonists taking them on with nothing but grit, hope and friendship, we have the possibility of them having actual time to prepare. I think this might lead to a battle between Marley and the people of Paradis that will be more evenly matched, and most importantly, realistic in how that happened.

i like the much needed change in perspective

While this chapter was certainly not a bad one, I only wished that more of the spotlight was on the original characters, seeing that there's only a few more arcs before the end of the series.

Dammit you Gabi! Fresh Face, Fresh Outlook in Life and Cute! I want to cosplay as her!

Next chapter : Gabi's underwear vs Survey Corps hundred of casualties.

UGH. This is no longer the story I used to enjoy. It's deliberately shifted from inspiring, against-all-odds heroism to a pile of absurdist, everything-is-relative garbage determined to prove that our 'heroes' are no more heroic than their opposition. If I wanted to be slapped in the face with a message of humanity's grayscale depravity, I'd read the news, thanks. :( I'm probably done with new chapters at this point, this isn't what I signed up for :P

I understand why the story is going in this direction and why it makes sense to skip three years...but I feel like we're moving further from our emotional center of the series, like the characters we love and their reactions to recent events.  I'm also concerned about the dwindling lifespans of Armin, Eren, and Reiner.  So I'm excited but scared for the changes our kids have gone through in three years...wish we could've seen it but I get why it's not feasible.  The world is cruel....:'(

if i pretend that this is a new manga i just started, it's interesting I guess. Wish we could have seen the warriors story from the Titan Trio's Pov. The fact that we get these new kids instead tells me that they will be sticking around. Not sure whether my investment in the story will ever go back beyond mjpopcorn.gif if that's the case.

I will like this chapter, but only if Isayama concludes this story with a good twist, that is. If not, chapter 91 will in my opinion be the beginning of the end (end in a bad way).

In the four year time skip, it could have been possible for the sc to build a ship (or multiple ships) which is good enough to cross the ocean with. Which leads me to think that the main characters will cross the ocean in some of the next chapters.

This chapter shows the bigger picture. what to come & what was in plan for years. This is the real thing now.

This was obviously a set-up chapter for things to come, but unfortunately I found it to be dull except for the part where they talk about the mission in the wall. That's all I care about, and this chapter did nothing to make me care for the plight of Marley and whatever stupid war they have to deal with.

Part of me wants to say that some key characteristics about Gabi not only resemble Eren or a younger version of him, but may also express some of the characteristics Isayama originally wanted to use for Eren when he considered making him female (I mean, Gabi even has nearly the exact same hair style as fem!Eren). But although they both are quite similar in a sense and could have had potential of being even more similar, until you reach a certain degree, they split in very different directions. Gabi tends to appear significantly more childish and carefree in the sense that everything is a game, while Eren has always been quite serious and often characterized as "angry". She and Eren both make similar reckless decisions and both speak similar dialogue, but they're quite different at the core based on assumable experiences and the environments they grew up in.

There are so much new good elements, I hope Isayama will do well 'cause the story is really interesting. Aside from that, the fact that Eldians (Gabi&Co) seem to enjoy fighting with their oppressor is disturbing, it's like a Stockholm syndrome...so different from Grisha and the revolutionist but to me they're all too radicals. Can't wait to knoe more about other nations

While there were definitely aspects that deserve creation (for instance we all know the amnesia thing was lazy writing) but overall I don't think the chapter was bad. I think the kids' unrealistic attitudes in battle was purposeful juxtaposition to the way our main cast has experienced war--it shows the extent of the brainwashing (I don't think it's that Isa is unable to consistently portray war's effects on people in a realistic way, like some claim). I'm wary but I think the story could be taken in some interesting directions. It would be really interesting to be reintroduced to our main characters through the eyes of the new ones, especially if our heroes come storming in like enemies--really playing into the moral grayness.

Time skip means we will see older version of the main characters and that's both exciting and terrifying af

One can only hope that Isayama graces us with Levi wearing a ponytail after this.

I was waiting for the story to explain what's going on the other side of the ocean. But not from these "copy and pasted" brats. Reiner is seen in just one panel and Zeke is barely mentionned. That's a shame.

I'm not buying the racial war yet. Grisha's sisters death was a stand out moment where I actually felt the horror of the war/racial conflict. So I have faith Isayama still has some gut punches left. But the clunky worldbuilding and shallow new characters are just not doing it for me. Isayama needs to invest in character moments because the human war narrative he has going right now doesn't have enough nuance or intrigue to stand on its own as of right now. This new outside of the walls world isn't immersive enough yet. Thanks momtaku for having these polls! They are always fun. :-)

I personally don't like Gabi that much. She put herself in danger, and I'm sure Marley would prefer to have someone much more tactical, or at least someone who doesn't put their whole life/operation in danger by pulling some silly stunt in hopes of getting noticed. I thought it was a very risky thing to do. But that's just my opinion.

meh

[wroetominter]

Intrepid - ChrisMD Fanfiction - Chapter I