#it's probably like a beautiful well thought out metaphor for something but man i just don't want

[shift-shaping]

I wish Solas had a real hangout in Skyhold. I hate flirting in the Reverse Panopticon.

[globalrebrand]

Jealousy

Lyney doesn't get jealous. Of course he cares for your comfort, that will always be a priority, but the glances you get in the street from other would-be suitors doesn't phase him in the slightest. You're beautiful, it's only natural people would acknowledge it. And he can't help but want to show you off. He's a bit of braggart when it comes to you. It's not even about looks, he's happy to share your charitable actions and adorable mannerisms with anyone who will listen. He actually hopes they get jealous of how amazing you are and that you're all his.

Besides, he has no need to be jealous. Lyney trusts you, enough that he would tell you his secrets. If he couldn't achieve full faith in the fidelity of your words and actions you two wouldn't even be in a relationship. He's open with you on the condition you'll keep his secrets and that you share yours in turn.

No so Lyney doesn't have a reason to be jealous. He values your friendships with others, and while admittedly he would prefer to have you to himself all the time, he knows it not feasible and will peel himself off of you so you can cultivate your relationships with others.

...but your new neighbor is interesting. He's quick to help you with any issues that arise in your apartment. If you would have just told Lyney, he would have gotten Freminet to come over and fix it for you! But it's fine, no worries, he understands. Somethings are just too time sensitive.

He understands a little less when he sees the two of you outside on your adjacent balconies, your neighbor with a cigarette and you playfully chastising him about his health. Lyney doesn't like the way he looks at you, but what he hates more is the way you look at him. Like you actually like and respect him, like he possesses the potential of a future friend. Not that Lyney is threatened! No of course not! What a traitorous thought. Maybe he's being too clingy. Lynette always tells him that he can be a bit smothering at times...

The local market however is the last straw. You probably thought nothing of it, you were going to the market, he was going to the market the two of you might as well go together, but something about shopping for food together feels too intimate for Lyney's liking. The metaphor of your neighbor slipping a fresh aubergine into your wicker bag riles Lyney too much not to say anything and finds his feet carrying him to your location, wordlessly leaving Lynette to look at some loose tea samples. He's not jealous though. Certainly not marking his territory like some brutish man. Absolutely not. Lyney's just-

Did that fucker just try to feed you a blackberry?

No.

Fuck no.

Just who does this bastard think he is?

You awkwardly accept and bite into the berry, trying to steer clear of his fingers and keep a respectable distance, but then the juice drips down your chin a bit and as if in slow motion Lyney watches that horrible homewrecker's hand come to wipe at the liquid staining your chin.

But Lyney finds himself by your side just in the nick of time, smoothly whipping a handkerchief out of thin air to dab at your chin himself. Clearly catching your neighbor off guard.

Lyney smirks. Good.

You smile at him, your surprise and resultant delight upon the recognition of your boyfriend has Lyney's heart thumping wildly in his chest.

Before he can even stop himself, he's guiding your face to his by your cheek, kissing you fervently. Time slows further, Lyney feels the heat of your lips that rivals the warm sun of the summer day and the confident weight of your hand as it settles on his nape to angle him closer in an attempt to deepen the kiss, but then he tastes the sweetness of the blackberry that asshole just fed you. And while he'd love to drink you in indefinitely, he remembers his has other matters to attend to.

"Mmm, what a good blackberry. I don't know how it's possible, but your lips made it taste even sweeter."

Lyney then turned his gaze to your neighbor, who stood looking stunned, slightly irritated, but ultimately disappointed. Good. Lyney thought.

You on the other hand looked rather flustered and slightly embarrassed.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your new friend?"

And you do, but he soon excuses himself, much to Lyney's obvious pleasure.

"You're a silly man. You know that? You remark airly, still a little breathless from the kiss as you continue walking, the both of you seemingly in quiet agreement that what that kiss started must be finished as Lyney guides you back to Hotel Bouffe d'ete.

"I couldn't help myself! I simply couldn't stand to see another man put his aubergine in your bag."

[sammaggs]

4x02 Easy Money // 3x01 Burning Down the House // 3x02 Eclipse | Rift

Something that always strikes me about Ray's moment of reconciliation with his father (in a show that might as well be subtitled Fathers Kinda Suck Huh???????) is the way this scene in particular is shot.

They focus especially on Ray's bracelet as he extends his hand:

Which isn't the only time they've focused on Ray's bracelet during Important Character Building. There's of course, his intro in Burning Down the House,

The close-up on the similarity with Marcus Ellory's bracelet in Eclipse,

And a bunch of other moments over seasons 3 and 4 that basically use the bracelet as a quick visual stand-in for "Ray Kowalski's a little bit different."

It’s something Ray Vecchio would never wear; hell, it's something most cops would never wear. It's a little bit, as Ray Kowalski would say, queer.

And so is Ray Kowalski.

The decision to focus on this bracelet during the exact moment he offers his hand to Damian as a peace offering is therefore, to me, worth considering. I personally read this as an indicator that part of the reason for Ray's rift with his father was his queerness.

And the first thing Damian says to Ray after they shake hands?

He compliments Ray’s experimental hair! He mentions another “queer” element of Ray’s physical appearance—one his father has likely given him a lot of grief for—and accepts it. Metaphor!!

It is, of course, understandable that Damian would have wanted better for his son than to be a cop, and this isn't to say that there isn't a world where that might have been enough to cause Damian to lose meaningful touch with his son for a decade. It certainly made sense for Ray Vecchio's father, who was likely involved with low-level mob business. But it does seem pretty extreme for Damian!

There's also the beautiful scene where Ray tells Fraser about his family in the precinct mess. At the very end, it really does look like he has something else he wants to say... but then Huey interrupts.

Now I am, of course, aware that Ray was dating or engaged to Stella at the time he graduated Academy. So what could his queerness possibly have to do with anything?

Well, as much as many of us wish it would, your queerness does not disappear when you enter a straight-passing relationship. I've even seen interesting ruminations in fic that some of the early hardship in Ray and Stella's relationship—remember, they broke up for a while during her college tenure—might have been due to the fact that Ray was interested in (or even caught) experimenting with men.

A personal anecdote, if you'll indulge me: I was in my mid-twenties, four years into a relationship with a man I thought I was going to marry, and tormented constantly by the idea that I was, probably, queer. I had no way of finding out while I was in a committed monogamous relationship. When I told my own mother that I thought I was bisexual, she told me it was all right—but also to never, ever tell my father. Even though I was in a relationship with a man, the knowledge of my queerness would have been enough to potentially cause a rift between my father and I that I don't know if we ever could have repaired. [editor's note: i'm a lesbian now and my dad and I have a stellar relationship ftr but i did have to marry a whole man first so] [editor's note: i am also the editor]

Ray gets caught with a man while Stella is in college? Or Stella knows and tells Ray's mother while they're drunk on wine one night? Or Ray's parents find a magazine... or a photo... or a stamp from the wrong club... anything. There's a million reasons why Ray's queerness could and may have come up even while he was with Stella, even while he was monogamous. Because he was still queer.

I know there's a certain element of "sometimes the curtains are just blue, dude, chill” to all of my meta, but when it comes to this show in particular I very much operate in my analyses from a place of "everything is intentional." Small details really do matter; the way scenes are shot matter, the words that are used matter, there's intentionality behind it all. We can't know or understand authorial intent, of course, but we can read our own interpretation of that intent into it. (The author is dead but Paul Gross thought Callum Keith Rennie was hot, so)

This is, after all, another episode directed by George Bloomfield, who also did Burning Down the House and is responsible for that "love at first sight" moment in Say Amen, so the direction here is in the hands of someone who is clearly in lock-step with Gross around the inclusion of queerness in the latter seasons of the show.

This moment is interesting to me in particular when considering intent because I actually would prefer to see Ray and Damian's faces in this moment! I want to know what Damian is thinking, or if he frowns. I want to know if Ray looks nervous or concerned. We don't see that at all.

Instead of seeing them over the GTO, we get the close-up on the hands and the bracelet over the rebuilt engine.

Rebuilding!! They're doing it.

And that makes my little queer heart pretty happy.

[cannibalisation]

i. lady grinning soul

sirius black/reader (no gendered pronouns, mentions of reader having 🍒)

shocking your friends, you bite the bullet and book a tattoo appointment with a new artist, turns out you have a lot more in common than thought before. or, you and tattooist!sirius bond over your shared love for David Bowie. (2.6k)

caution. modern au, tattoo needles, blood, slight nudity(?), i’ve never been tattooed before so the procedure might be inaccurate, reader is down bad for a man they just meet, pretty unprofessional work environment, crack ending.

i’m new to the marauders fandom and have limited knowledge, sorry for any character inaccuracies.

IT’S exceedingly rare for you to shoot from the hip.

More often than not, the bullets stay lodged in the barrel of your metaphorical gun (in other words, your prefrontal cortex), where it’s safe and close to you.

Most of your close companions would consider you to be a level-headed individual, not the kind of person to go to when it comes to profound decisions.

Lily Evans knew this well, so it’s safe to assume that she was dumbfounded when you shared thoughts with her about your pivotal choice to get new ink.

“You’re cheating on McKinnon? She’s never going to forgive you.” She verbalised with an airy voice.

It was a joke; you weren’t cheating on Marlene—she’s done most of your tattoos, and she would forgive you. At least you think she would.

You snort at Lily’s statement, trying to focus on the tweezer in your hand and her russet-coloured eyebrows.

She sits on the small stool of her vanity, and you lean over her. It’s a position too close for comfort, but over the years you’ve known Lily, its no dilemma for either of you.

“If she hadn’t gone on that so-called platonic girls trip with that Meadowes girl, I wouldn’t have to cheat on her, and it’s not even cheating!”

The corner of Lily’s mouth had curled up at your comment on the topic, and you mirrored it. She eyes you playfully in silent agreement.

Marlene did try and write off this weekend getaway as a friendly affair between her and Dorcas, but you could see past her act effortlessly. She hadn’t been subtle, not when her eyes had lit up so brightly when she heard the doorbell ring.

Leaning back from where you were hunched over the red-headed girl, you try to assess your work done on her eyebrows.

As usual, they’re plucked to perfection. You smile and throw the tweezer aside; it clatters against the other beauty products situated on the surface of your vanity. Lily flinches at the noise and lightly punches your arm in retaliation with a shallow laugh.

“Where have you booked it? Is it local?” Lily questions, trailing after you as you walk away.

“A parlour in the city; wonder if Marl knows them.” You reply as you stride into the kitchen. Flicking on the kettle, you begin to prepare a cup of tea. Turning back to where Lily stands behind you, you shake the box of teabags in offering. She nods and moves to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter.

“Is it not like, sacrilege? What if they’re tattooist arch-enemies or something?”

“Then perhaps I’ll be the tattooed Judas.” It was a poor attempt at a joke on your part, but fortunately it lands and Lily lets out a snicker.

You ponder the thought for a moment while waiting on the kettle to boil. Is a fresh set of ink a symbol for the thirty pieces of silver? Is Marlene saintlike, and is it even worth betraying her? She’s always been a good friend, and you’d feel terrible if she actually was heartbroken over your actions.

As if she had a second sense for sniffing out negative reasoning, Lily sounds out a low whistle to gain your attention. It works, and you turn to look at her.

Her head is tilted to the left slightly, curls brushing against the countertop. She always had an unnatural ability for reading your body language like a book, now even more so. A small smile graces her features, one of tenderness she only sets aside for those closest to her—and probably stray cats.

“It’ll be fine; you can always hide it from her.” She murmurs, as if it were a secret.

“I’m getting it done on my ribs.”

Lily grimaces, and you don’t know if it’s out of the idea of the pain or how quickly her secretive plan was soiled.

A bell chime makes a racket when you open the front door of the tattoo parlour.

You wince at the noise and slowly close the door behind you. Inside the shop is an interior similar to what you had already imagined.

Tawny-coloured bricks line the back wall; it reminds you of Lily’s hair.

Framed pictures of artworks and musicians decorate the brickwork; you take note of the recurring portraits of your favourite classic rock stars, maybe this place won’t be too bad; maybe you were stressing for nothing.

There are five sets of tattoo stations, with one of them being occupied. A burly man lies against the leather of the chair as another, much slimmer man has a tattoo gun to his bicep. The man has deeply contorted facial features, most likely due to the pain.

It’s laughable, almost, seeing such a stout individual in such a situation.

You are broken out of your stupor by a figure that appears before you. Another man, with wide brown eyes hidden behind crimson-coloured glasses, stands in front of you. He has a bright-eyed look, one you recognise as the typical customer-service guise. Taking a brief moment, you admire the dark ink that lines his brown skin.

“Afternoon love, Did you have an appointment for today, or are you a walk-in?” He questioned, voice orotund to ensure you had heard him over the buzz of the tattoo gun in the corner of the room. He presses his upper body against the front desk to lean over it and grab a spiralled notebook.

You assume it’s a booking schedule, as Marlene has something similar in her flat, so you offer your name. He flips through the book before he lands on one page. He nods to himself and lets out a small noise of recognition.

“Well, it looks like you’re with Sirius today; I’ll go fetch him for you. Please make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to the small shag settee behind you before walking into a back room hidden behind a beaded curtain. You do as he says and perch yourself down on the crimson-coloured couch.

Toying at the textured fabric you sit upon, you return to admiring the decor of the shop. One poster in particular catches your eye.

A grayscale portrait of David Bowie sits behind a sky blue frame and sea foam glass. The blackened scratching of an autograph leaves you feeling a slight sense of jealousy.

A loud brush of the beaded curtains interrupts the fresh grudge you had formed on whoever it is that got a signed picture of the Goblin King.

Graced with the presence of yet another man, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the matter. Maybe you should’ve stuck with Marlene. This one’s just as pretty as the original guy you spoke to— alabaster skin and cropped jet black hair. He smiles softly when you stand to meet him halfway.

“Hi. You’re my canvas today?”

You nod, and he motions for you to follow him to a tattoo station. This man, Sirius, you recall, dons a frayed shirt with imagery of a black metal band you hardly recognise and navy blue wide leg jeans. He has two different coloured Converse shoes on; is it a fashion statement, or did he seem to displace the other half to both pairs? From what you can see when you walk behind him, his forearms are patterned with cluttered designs of tattoos.

You settle onto the tattoo bench as Sirius prepares his equipment.

He’s practically hovering over you now, eyeing the length of your body. Your face grows warm, and you pray that he can’t feel the heat. It’s clear he does though; a hint of a smile crawls up on his features. He really was quite pretty.

“Alright,” he says, “what are we doing today?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly set on a particular subject; I was hoping you might have some designs you’ve been wanting to try out.”

Sirius smiles much more softly now. He looks alluring like this. The sterile lighting would do nothing to help the beauty of others, but for some reason he looks otherworldly.

“Stunning, I can work with that.” You could too if he asked for it. “Is there a position in particular you were leaning towards?” He asks while pulling a beige Manila sleeve. You nod and gesture in the general direction of your upper rib cage. His face contorts as if he were experiencing the soon-to-come pain.

You spend the next few minutes with your head leaning awfully close to Sirius’ shoulder. Finally, you land on a particular design that you like the concept of and ask him to tweak some parts of the composition.

Having already been subjected to being a canvas for Marlene, you are already familiar with the spouts of pain experienced when being tattooed.

There are enough sweets and sugary drinks stuffed into the pocket of your bag to last you days; you can only hope that Sirius has the peace of mind to go easy on you. Spending the next several hours whining into his ear in pain seems less than charming.

“Cool. You can take your shirt off now.”

Just as you expected, he did not go easy on you. Fortunately, it had taken less than half an hour to finalise the exact location and composition of the piece. Normally, it would take yourself and Marlene several days to even figure out a basic idea. Perhaps it was the air of succour that Sirius gave off, or maybe you had just wanted to make an impression on him.

Either way, you find yourself with your back flat against the chair as Sirius holds the tattoo gun to your flesh. The pain is strong on the surface of your rib cage, and the buzz of the tattoo gun makes it feel like your ribs are rattling against one another.

Sirius has been heartwarmingly kind throughout this exchange, taking the time often to ask if you had wanted any other snacks to eat at or if you needed to take a break when he notices the contort of pain in your face. But obviously these are just standard business qualities; it’s best not to assume otherwise. The faint brush of his hand against your shin or the hushed praises under his breath are just common practices, right?

Bravely, you choose to ignore these thoughts that occupy your mind and instead focus on studying the dark lines embellished on Sirius’ forearms.

A mixture of bright and monochrome ink circulates his veins and stretch marks. It evokes an image of a summer’s breath of wind. Flower petals and leaves curling in the breeze.

A series of gentle pats against your shoulder rids you of your state of languor. He has terribly soft hands, yet callouses run deep all the same. You wonder what it would be like to hold his in your own.

“I think I’ll turn you over now. Just to make the tattooing a bit easier for you.” He began, urging you with a gentle tug on your bicep. “Is that alright, love?” You nod and string out a grumble of agreements.

He has you embraced a lot closely now that your on your side. His unoccupied hand grabs a flurry of paper towels from the dispenser behind you. He rests them and his hand between the juncture of hip and upper thigh. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume the new blush of red that he dawns on his face was derived from such proximity.

The insistent buzz of the tattoo gun continues, and you try to centre your mind on the noise. With your eyes closed, you cannot see the serpentine path formed by coffee brown eyes. As Sirius watches you, a lump forms in his throat.

It’s laughably notable that this is unprofessional, the way he’s been acting for the last several hours. Sirius is surprised that Remus hasn’t said anything to him as he types away on the front desk computer; has he even noticed? The all but necessary intimacy between the two of you was stark. If James was still clocked in, he’d be having a field day.

Your body language isn’t telling him that you’re uncomfortable, and he most definitely hasn’t pushed at any clear boundaries. He sees the way your chest rises and falls. You look content almost, which is odd given the fact that he is currently holding several needles in your skin.

Something catches Sirius’ eye, something he recognises all too well. He draws a sharp breath, and you flinch.

“Hey, we have matching tats!” He marvelled. With a flutter of blinks, you hum in question, clearly shocked by the sudden volume of his voice.

Sirius turns the tattoo gun off and moves it to the small side table to the right of you. He pulls up the fabric of his weathered shirt and points at a specific work on his lower stomach. It’s then that you make the connection and try not to redden at the reveal of his lean form, like a Victorian gentleman would at the slip of an ankle.

Nestled upon his waist is a red lightning bolt with blue shadowing. Aladdin Sane, 1973, David Bowie.

You have a matching David Bowie tattoo with one of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen.

You’re spiralling now; is the autographed photo his? Was he truly blessed with the presence of a musical genius before he passed on? You don’t know if you should break down in tears or kiss him.

The tattoo you have is much smaller and located on the side of your left breast. Normally it’s quite hard to see, hidden beneath your underclothes or your arm. It was one of your first, a drunken decision but you don’t regret it. Lily had cringed when you first showed it to her, criticising the rash, permanent commitment.

The following weekend, she did the same thing in an almost blackout haze. A set of lily flower petals rests on her shoulder.

“You a Bowie fan? What’s your top song?” The presence of Sirius once again breaks you out of your thoughts; he’s really good at that.

“Uh, probably The Prettiest Star.”

“Yeah. That’s a good one.”

The smile on his face is a coy one; you can’t help but feel left out of an untold joke. Sirius says nothing and returns to working on your skin. In your mind, you pray to whoever’s listening (hopefully Bowie) that this tattoo won’t take much longer. You are unsure of how much more you can take of this determined teasing.

Another hour passes before you’re finally done. Plastic wrapped like leftovers and a decent sum drained from your bank account. Safe to assume that leftovers are all you’ll be eating for the time being.

Sirius hands you a receipt and bids you a flirty goodbye. Breathless, you exit the parlour, though not before becoming flustered at the wink he gives you as you walk out the door.

You turn the crumpled invoice in your hand and stifle a shout of elation. A phone number, his personal one, you hope. Beside it is a scribbled sentence that reads: Text me and i’ll tell you all about my favourite songs. - S.

When you finally limp your way up the stairs to your flat, you are faced with the one thing you feared. Lily sits tense on the living room couch, with Marlene right beside her.

The red-headed girl turns to look at you with a frightened expression, she knows. You mentally brace yourself and tiptoe over to the two. Gazing meekly at the subject of your fears, her face is unreadable. Your breath turns heavy.

“So..” she starts, “You’re having an affair?”

[kurishiri]

n.3 . . . “ the hunter hides the fleeting truth from the thorns ”

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— thanks to @ndoandou for helping me with the jude lines! it's thanks to her that they sound a lot better than what they were before, ehe.

— cw: blood and injury, angst.

Ellis: Good evening. Are you Roger?

E: I’d like you to treat this person.

E: I can’t have him die now.

Roger: You ‘can’t have him die’?

When I looked to his side, I saw that the man had a terrible look in his eyes, with blood spilling out from his stomach.

Roger: Hey, who did this to you!

Jude: The hell does that matter, just hurry up ‘n get stitchin’ already.

At the time, I occasionally examined patients at my dad’s clinic while also working for Crown.

It was before the time Jude and Ellis even knew of its existence.

Jude was allegedly a former patient of my dad’s, but that evening, he got stabbed with a knife and asked me to treat him.

Jude: Even without a license ya still can do what you lot do.

J: But in exchange don’t go yappin’ ‘bout takin’ me in as a patient to save face.

Roger: I see, so you’re saying there’s something in it for both you and me? Can’t say I disagree there.

Ellis: ...So can he be treated, Roger?

Roger: Yeah, don’t you worry about that. There’s no way I’d go and let a practice partner die off before my eyes.

Ellis: Thank goodness, I really can’t have him die now.

(...He said the same thing before.)

Roger: What’s with the whole ‘I can’t have him die now’ deal? Just when is it okay for him to die then?

Ellis: Um... at life’s happiest moment... maybe?

My first impression of him was that he was a strange fellow.

But at the same time, Ellis was an honest person, which was something I immediately grew fond of.

It was almost as though I was going through the nostalgia of meeting a friend from long ago.

And finally, I found out the reason for that nostalgia.

Ellis was just like my first ✕✕——he was ✕✕✕✕✕✕ [1].

With my meeting Ellis as a turning point, I became even more immersed in my research.

(Ellis’ tragic fate is... ‘to die by the hands of justice.’)

To me, it was like I could see his death already.

And through Ellis, I could see the Cursed ones who have died meeting their tragic fates they had been dealt.

——To be honest, it sent me into a panic.

And it was at that time when Ellis once again appeared before me.

Ellis: Hey, Roger, come hang out with me.

Ellis took me to a place where you could get a panoramic view of London.

Roger: So you said you wanted to hang out with me, but how’re we gonna do that here?

Ellis: Just wait a little, Roger.

E: I think it’s right about now... ah—

Just then, a bang that seemed to break through the air resonated, and before my eyes, huge flowers bloomed.

Roger: .........

Ellis: I once saw these by chance with Jude, so that’s how I know there are fireworks around this time.

E: I also remembered that Jude was gazing at them, as if taken by them.

E: And I thought to myself, if something is beautiful, it has the power to make them forget what is bothering them, even just for a moment.

Roger: ...And? Why did you take me here?

When I lowered my gaze back, I saw Ellis was speaking while looking up at the fireworks.

Ellis: Well, when you found out I had the Curse of the Thorns, you... acted kind of strangely.

E: Or, probably not strangely... more like, you seemed sad.

Ellis’ silhouette was outlined by the flickering fireworks.

Ellis: ...Hey, Roger. It’s okay to forget everything.

Roger: Forget?

Ellis: Mhm. The fact that I’m Cursed, and whatever you’re going through that you can’t tell anyone else... everything.

E: I want you to be happy too, Roger.

Ellis’ words were so simple and to the point.

Roger: Pff...

R: Pfft, hahaha!

But they were also very kind, and strangely my heart seemed to metaphorically crack.

Roger: Now I think you’re just misunderstanding something here.

Ellis: Eh?

Roger: See, I own a dog at home, and I’ve just been thinking about how he’s been putting on a bit too much weight. And I was sorta moping about that.

Ellis: .........

E: Hehe, I see. That’s also an important problem.

Roger: Yeah. But really, I appreciate the sentiment.

We gave each other smiles before turning back to the night sky, which was decorated with fireworks.

Ellis: ...Let’s just leave it at that.

Ellis’ voice came out in a small murmur, but my ears, not caring about anyone’s intentions, picked the words up anyway.

But I only continued to stare up at the fireworks, pretending I didn’t hear.

(Sorry, Ellis.)

(But forgetting everything is probably impossible for me.)

(Getting destroyed by justice just doesn’t suit someone as kind as you.)

While thinking back on the fireworks, I flipped through the medical records again.

Jude Jazza. “The 13th Fairy.”

Problems with his bronchial tube. Also problematic in character.

I’ve long lost count of how many times I’ve saved his life.

Jude: Speed up n’ get stitchin’ ya quack of a doctor.

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full masterlist ⛓️

NOTES:

[1] maybe a vague spoiler from Roger’s route: if I had to guess, the ✕✕ is something like “friend” [友達] (tomodachi), [友人] (yūjin) or “partner” [相棒] (aibō), something along those lines. Then the ✕✕✕✕✕✕ is probably “the bearer of the Curse of ‘Thorns’” [茨の呪いつき] (ibara no noroi-tsuki).

[desire-mona]

this most definitely isnt an original thought and i've probably heard it on a podcast before but. i am so married to todd's sweaty tooth madman poem being a metaphor for not accepting being gay.

so here's me picking the whole thing apart (and not proofreading anything)

so starting with

the sweaty toothed madman of course being walt whitman, who we all know is (at least rumoured to be) gay. now the interpretation of whitman being a metaphor for todd's sexuality is nothing new, but i'd like to expand on it.

"i close my eyes and this image floats beside me"

i see this as any moment todd has to himself, no matter where he is, he is reminded whitman/ the fact that he's gay. the specific usage of closing your eyes to mean that the image/ reminder is always there, always following. i see the use of the words "beside me" in a couple different ways. either to suggest that the reminder is just out of view, being pushed away just enough to not be the main focus and more something you see in your peripheral, or in a 3rd person perspective, seeing todd and the imagery of walt beside eachother, coinciding with eachother. i could see both interpretations working equally as well, or even comined.

"the sweaty-toothed madman with a stare that pounds my brain"

THIS LINE. i loooove his use of sweaty toothed!!!!!

if you're not sure what sweaty toothed means, it just kinda means ur teeth r. wet. drooly mouth. i see this madman being sweaty toothed to mean that he's "hungry", not literally, but more desiring something. this being truth, which i'll get into later.

the stare that pounds my brain. oh man. ok so obviously this means that the image/ thought is intimidating, terrifying, threatening. the implication that todd being gay is as much of a threat to his life/ wellbeing as a madman that has it out for him, both ideas causing him an insane amount of stress.

this line is fairly simple to me, the reminder goes from something that terrifies you but ultimately can go unacknowledged, to a constant, overbearing thought that suffocates you enough that you HAVE to face it in some way or another. todd is facing it fearfully, letting it take control of him and how he acts rather than tackling the idea himself. he is defenseless against this part of him

truth (ur gay)

todd thinkin this truth will leave him unsatisfied in life :-( not only in the love sense tho! with his family too, if they find out god forbid, theyll surely view him differently and cast him off even farther than they already do. i also like to think this is him lowkey complaining that the blankets at welton are too small.

this also, devastatingly enough, reminds me of the bit from rocketman where elton comes out to his mom.

clip from rocketman (2019)

and he's mumbling. he's mumbling! this truth is still cloudy, not full realised, still being pushed away. whitman wants the truth, todd wants the truth, but he's still not ready, everything's still uncertain. this uncertain truth could also pertain to todd's feelings toward neil specifically, but i dont think that was the intention. todd does exist as his own person!

this ones simple again. you can fight off your feelings and sexuality all you want but it still wont really lead you anywhere you wanna be. you either end up marrying someone you dont love (women), or you end up alone. also the heavy emphasis on physical violence toward the Truth Blanket could be a metaphor for the physical danger todd would be in if anyone found out, but im not hellbent on that idea.

god. "from the moment we enter crying, to the moment we leave dying," is a BEAUTIFUL way to convey "your entire life" todd you have such a way with words. anyway. i take this as something like. this is something you're born with and cant change, todd was born gay, obviously, and it will never go away with any amount of effort. hence the wailing, crying, and screaming.

also i view the specific line of "it will just cover your face" in a couple different ways. either to mean this truth will suffocate you no matter what you do, or this truth will leave you needing to hide major parts of yourself from the world.

this got a bit repetitive, i apologise. but i still have more to say.

some parts of this poem i find to be a bit too wordy to have been come up with on the spot. do i think todd is talented enough to do so? absolutely! but i just dont think that's the case. i have no doubt in my mind that a LOT of what he said in front of the class was either already on his mind, or was written down beforehand but eventually scrapped.

specifics i have in mind are the concepts of a sweaty toothed madman and a blanket that leaves your feet cold. i dont think this sweaty toothed madman was written specifically with whitman in mind, i think it was just a vessel for his anxiety generally. but the blanket i just KNOW was thought out and written down with the intention to like. be a metaphor for being unsatisfied.

and that only makes the class laughing at that line that much worse, no wonder he wanted to stop! not only was todd incredibly brave for continuing after, but keating was unimaginably quick to get the focus back to the poem. he knew that metaphor meant something to todd, and choosing to expand on that was actually an amazing way to drive that home.

either way, todd's far more brave than i ever could be. i'd be shitting myself up there.

also if u disagree with any of these points are wanna add anything then TELL MEEEE!!! art is anything but subjective and i looove seeing how you guys view things like this.

[cryptcoop]

id love to hear what are some of your personal headcanons for moira and niran if they did ever get in a relationship

I will finally answer this ask with a few of my moiraweaver thoughts

For starters, I think they are playing a very dangerous game. Moira doesn't leave Iraq much, Oasis even more so. So they are usually together there. Oasis has incredible security.. they know when Niran is there, pretty much the instance he steps foot within the university. However, Moira, being minister, holds a lot of power within Oasis, and therefore is granted a lot of leeway.. but not that much. The only thing stopping Talon/Oasis from stopping their get togethers is the fact that it's hard to completely erase the existence of and replace the Minister of Genetics without a few heads turning. They aren't playing it safe either. She brings him to galas touting him around on her arm, outwardly affectionate towards each other, an act of defiance towards Talon. It wont last for long.

I think Moira is a very touch averse person, and Niran is very respectful of that. However she is usually quite comfortable with his touch. He'll usually test the waters, fingertips on her upper back, a light bump of their shoulders together, and if she doesn't bristle to the touch he will be more confident. He has very warm hands and I like to think it's comforting on her body.

I see Niran as a man and Moira as a woman, but they are both definitely playing outside of their roles often. I see Moira as more of the "man" of the relationship, especially outwardly, but they hold equal power within their relationship. To me they are two queer people having fun, they are definitely not a straight couple.

Given that Niran is often on the run, he travels quite a lot. He will send her little gifts from the places he visits and write cards. He often asks Sombra to deliver his packages to her to keep it discreet.

I like to think that Niran can grow a little bit of facial hair (He is typically a very well kept man when he can be ((he waxes/plucks)) but it can be difficult when you're an active vigilante) and if he returns after being gone for an especially long time, Moira cannot kiss him unless he's clean shaven. She can't stand the feeling of facial hair. Sometimes she will pluck/wax/shave him herself, a little indulgent thing for her. They will do each others makeup as well from time to time.

I think in the same sense that Niran will use his healing touch to soothe Moira's ailments I think Moira will also, on occasion, use her biotic grasp on him (I like to think she can do it without her pack to a lesser extent, given that she already has the attachments for it embedded into her arm.) It's hard for me to explain, as it's not something she does to actively hurt him, I think he probably asked her to do it out of curiosity. I think it's.. a trust thing. She has the ability to drain his life away, just as he as the ability to heal hers. A coming together of opposites. Metaphor, Metaphor, yatta yatta, you get it.

Every once and a while, Niran will engage in a game with her, where he will ask her to run away with him. It's a fruitless effort. Moira can't run away from her life. She's dug her grave, and she's actively laying in it. You do not run away from Talon, and you don't run away from the wrought you've wrung into the world. I wrote a little tidbit about it a little while ago :3 here:

Niran shifts to his side, propping himself up by his arm and looking down at Moira. He lacked his usual playful smile, instead opting for a more determined look. “Run away with me.” 

Ah, this song and dance. “And where shall we go?” 

He hums, considering his options. They’ve played this game a hundred times, and even if the outcome was always the same, he tried anyway. “Iceland is beautiful this time of year, and the hot springs are to die for. I’d love to take you.”

“No.” Moira glances towards him, not wanting to move from her comfortable position. “Much too cold, I prefer the heat nowadays.” 

She watches as his hand strays from his side. It wanders to the buttons of her shirt, ever the indulgent one, unable to keep his hands to himself. “Australia?” He undoes one of the buttons, fingers slipping past silky fabric. “You know, the people living in the outback are quite nice when given the chance.”

“Those Junkers?” Moira fails to hold back a laugh. “Preposterous.”

“I’m being serious! They’re resilient and incredibly resourceful, like you.”

Moira rolls her eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

That smile of his comes back. “I think their queen would take a liking towards you. She needs someone to punch back her hotheadedness.” He idly feathers his fingers across her collarbone. She sighs, the warmth of his hand soothing her aching body if only for a moment. He’s starting to think he could be winning her over. “I could take you. Admittedly, it’s antiquated, but I think they’d accommodate you. Plus no one would come looking for you out there.”

Just as quickly as he believes to have the upper hand, she snuffs him out completely. “Too much sand. It kicks up and makes a mess of everything. And I would go mad without running water.”

Niran’s posture deflates, visibly dejected. “Just come out there with me, I promise you won’t regret it.”

He’s starting to beg. He knows the game is over, and he’s pushing it. She takes his hand from within her shirt and places it back to his side. “No, Niran.” 

He stares at her for a long while before accepting his defeat. “Alright.” He says, voice quiet.

[nijigasakilove]

Took me all day because I constantly paused and started because of the waves of emotion I was overcome with at various points. Sat here with tears in my eyes man. Never would’ve thought that not only would we get Kimi ni Todoke back after all these years, but that it would be better than both the previous seasons. Only complaint is that they dropped everything at once instead of letting us gather together weekly over 3 months..

Thank you to all the staff involved for bringing this back to us. If we never get a season 4, I can sleep well given where this left off with everyone in a loving relationship and having grown tremendously.

Above all else I got to shoutout Kento man he was the MVP of this season. Went from being an annoying prick in season 2 to one of my fave characters. His emotional intelligence really impressed me. Sticking up for Ayane and refusing to leave her alone, knocking the shit out of that annoying bum Mogi.. I didn’t think there would be the level of complexity to his character that we got this season. Genuinely great dude and exactly what Ayane deserves. Their confession scene was perfection 😭

Ryu and Chizuru’s relationship was probably my second favourite thing. The backstory episode where we saw how Ryu’s mom died and how it affected both he and Chizuru.. how they’ve been each other’s support system ever since childhood.. they truly are soulmates and I couldn’t be more happy with how their development was handled. It is truly time to start something new for them ❤️

SAWAKO AND KAZEHAYA FIRST KISS. Who would’ve thought it would be Sawako initiating it??? Our baby’s grown up right before our eyes. Can you imagine the girl we saw in episode 1 back in 2009 doing this?? It was hard watching them be distant in those last couple episodes but I’m so glad she and Kazehaya both fully opened up to one another. It won’t always be easy, but when you have two people who love each other like this they’ll find a way.

I really felt Sawako’s dad emotions there at the end, especially when they played the first OP like cmon are yall trying to make me ugly cry!!?? 😭 he’s so protective and caring for Sawako and you can just tell how worried he was about her when she was so closed off and isolated from everyone. Seeing her have friends and a boyfriend who truly respects and cares for her has to be the best feeling as a father.

When he notices that she’s grown taller than him it reminded me of the TTGL dream sequence with Kamina and Simon in that it’s a double entendre for Sawako having literally grown, but also metaphorically grown past the stage where he needs to protect her so much. Just love those last few minutes so much. What a beautiful ending, I’d love another season of course but if it ends there I’d be content too.

Now we need more Akayona and Chihayafuru 😭

[Review](https://myanimelist.net/reviews.php?id=532843)

[esterzach]

On The Bond thingy....

I rewatched the scene with Ihvon today. Somehow I missed it the first time. Simple, slow, on point. And oh, so wrong of him. Almost poetically. Apparently, Ihvon thinks they are not supposed to be equal. He laughs at Lan and his offense to Moiraine's words. Without even considering the possibility that someone like the great mighty Aes Sedai could consider a mere mortal man an equal. Ihvon is definitely the more likable character for me, but somehow Maksim turns out to be closer with his ideas on relationships. Even the basic understanding is that no two marriages are the same, just as people are different. As if by accident he was correct. Yet, they have no idea. Who knows what they think of Lan and Moiraine as a couple - Aes Sedai and a Warder? That probably falls somewhere along the lines of "Poor Lan with this stuck-up, cold, emotionless, bitter bitch. He must be in hell." With little understanding of Moiraine as a person, let alone her mission and their relationship. A common goal, mission more important than their life or anything else, personal sacrifice. And Moiraine's (normally) gentle attitude toward Lan when they are alone, their little moments, a bubble no one can get into. The shared looks and half smile, and that deep understanding. Also the contrast here between Lan and Maksim's "I don't want anyone else in my head and Alanna doesn't like the company..." is brutal. That's a lack of trust, of willingness to carry the burden of someone else's emotions because they are too much and let someone else be too close. Only the good parts. Did you think we would be fighting a war against an army of kittens? Well.. no, but... yes? Essentially he is an enhanced soldier and a glorified sex toy? For the rest - welp you are on your own. Then again I imagine what is the emotional range of Alanna - hungry, horny, scared, horny... What she wants - The Light to triumph over the Shaddow and a dessert after. And that attitude of her Warder - we see their weakness, we remind them that they are not gods, yet... he seems to almost think that of them. There is something disturbing in this idea that there is no way a normal person, let alone a man can be equal to a woman with special skills. The thought that they might think highly of a simple man never even occurs to them... And this power even though it needs work to be harnessed and efforts to be honed, is just an accident, a random natural mutation, with no rhyme or reason. Like green eyes. Do these people worship an accidental whim of nature? This removes the importance of other traits of character and makes people like Liandrin and Moiraine, the same. Lan was angry at Moiraine because she masked the Bond even when he knew what she was up to and that she was safe. He was willing to share even those moments. He feels uncomfortable even for several hours, let alone months. He misses her. He misses her presence in his head. She has become a part of him. And after such a long time without her, he asks her to let him back in. There is something else in this episode that hits hard. Alanna explains to Lan how Moiraine was a different person before. Something happened, and after that, she changed. Drastically. "The way water becomes ice. You look at it and wonder how it was ever water before." Ouch. That metaphor is beautiful and the whole line carries such a weight. It suits Alanna to say something poetic like this and it seems to be the perfect description of Lady Damodred. Lan knows what changed. He is interested in something else: "Was she happier then?" Brutal. We know Moiraine is not exactly rays and sunshine, but damn... Imagine being in someone's head, feeling someone's emotions when this person is almost never happy. To know that there is little you can do about it. And that is Lan, who himself seems to have about two trucks of personal baggage to deal with. He seems genuinely sad. What was it? Duty is heavier than a mountain. And there is no dessert after.

[double-0h-no]

Who am I talking to?

Prompt fill for "Civilian bystander" and 1000 words.

Soooo… technically I messed up my prompts, because this was meant to be "civilian bystander" and "proof of life" and by the end of writing it I was convinced I was trying to hit 1k exactly, so instead it's now "civilian bystander" and "1000 words". The fest will be going on for long enough to see the other one come to fruition, I hope. Anyway, enjoy Hedda's very confusing run-in with an unfortunate Double Oh (that also fills the proof of life prompt, but pshhhh)

Anyway, I was always fsacinated with the concept of bystanders in action movies, because hell, I'd be very confused if I just saw that shit happen in my city. Alas, this took more a turn towards badass and a bit of angst, because I was under the presumption I was writing Whump. Oh well.

on ao3

On the way to pick up her daughter from kindergarten, Hedda watched a wild Double Oh in action.

Hedda left work earlier that day.

She wanted to surprise her daughter and pick her up from kindergarten, something her husband usually did. The plan was to go and get some strawberries afterwards - she still wasn't sure whether she'd get the fresh ones or the washed and sliced variety in their plastic containers - and then go to the playground until dinner which she'd pick up from somewhere on the way home.

She turned left, down the small street between a construction site and the crumbling ruin of an old building that was slowly being deconstructed. Hedda thought it to be a very obvious metaphor in a way that was almost offensive in its simplicity, but life didn't have to try for subtle.

Loud noises drew her attention and she looked up. Were there construction workers up there? She had assumed it empty, but that sounded like people. People shouting loudly at each other, interrupted by - were those gun shots?

That couldn't be. She'd never heard one, except for the movies, of course, and it did sound a lot like that, but how - More shouting, a pained cry, the creaking of metal.

She picked up her pace, walked faster, and fumbled for her phone. She had to get to a safe spot, among people, and then call the police. Maybe this was a nail gun, or something else that was entirely plausible to go on up there. Maybe she should call the police, or an ambulance.

Plausible deniability left her as she saw two people leap from the newly built house over onto the ruin, one in pursuit of the other, clearly armed.

She stopped in her tracks. What on earth was she supposed to do now?!

Hedda quickened her pace, phone grasped tightly in her sweaty hand, her heart pounding,  and then the sound of an explosion robbed her of her senses. It all happened way too fast to understand.

Her surroundings came to her in no particular order: Her knee hurt badly. There was that horrible smell of powdered gypsum in the air. She was lying on her stomach. Her skin was covered in a fine layer of dust. Her ears were ringing.

With a groan she pushed herself up and cleaned her glasses. They were undamaged, but dust and debris was falling out of her hair, making her skalp itch. 

Hedda turned around and was faced with destruction.

The side of the old building seemed to have been blown clean off, the force of the explosion doing more damage than two months of careful work had done. There was so much dust in the air she barely dared to breathe.

Stunned, she watched as a man got up from the rubble, bent down over something and then limped off. Hedda was too perplexed to do anything, but that was probably a good thing. What should she do, after all? Get in the way of the people with guns?

There was movement among the debris. The second man, no doubt. She turned away to turn tail and run but - Fuck. She couldn't do it.

Instead, she typed in the number for an ambulance and rushed towards the movement, her knee hurting something fierce. That would be a beautiful bruise by the morning.

The closer she came, the better she could make out that yes, there was that other man buried beneath the debris. His blond hair was grimy with dust and there was a cut on his forehead, bleeding profusely. She wanted to hit the Call button on her phone but a sound interrupted her. A crackling sound, like static, and she looked around, trying to find the source.

" - ond? --- Seven, is -- right? --even?"

There was a wire coming out the collar, ending in some sort of ear piece, and before she could second guess herself, she put it in her own ear and the voice was now loud and clear and English: "Are you there? What's going on?"

"Hello?" 

There was silence on the other side, before a distinctly British accent asked: "Hello? Who's there?"

"I'm Hedda Nielsen. I'm... There was an explosion. It's... I'll call an ambulance, it's..." The panic was getting to her now. The man in front of her wasn't looking good, the pupils unevenly dilated, blood dripping down his face, and the arm next to him was certainly broken.

"Okay, Hedda, I've already called for someone to come, you don't need to take care of that. Listen, I was on the line with a colleague of mine, actually, he's on a business trip and we were talking about the meeting he's heading to-"

She couldn't help it, she snorted. "You don't have to bother, I saw a gun, I don't want to know. You man is right here, just a bit out of it."

"He's alive?" There was concern now in his voice, as if Hedda telling him to drop the act had removed all layers of professionalism.

"Yes. Not... really well. He seems to be coming around." There was a breath of relief on the other side, and she had to smile, totally in contrast to everything her brain told her to do.

"I'll hand you back to him and... do I need to hang around? I wanted to pick up my kid."

"What? Oh, yes, well -- are you okay? Are you injured?"

Her knee was giving her hell, but all she wanted was to be with Amelie. The ambulance wouldn't clean her up, either.

"Just need a shower and an ice pack."

"Oh. All right, then."

"I'll hand you back now." It was a bit awkward, to fit an ear piece back to someone else's ear, but she managed, and she could see the man's expression change immediately, first furrowing his brows, then relaxing.

"Q?" And after another second, the softest smile spread over the man's face.

It wasn't fitting for the situation, but somehow it reassured her. This man was going to be fine. And she had Amelie to pick up.

[agentem]

Chapter 1

I really like the first chapter of "The Hunger Games." It begins with Katniss waking up (which is something online sites will tell you not to do as a writer because it's such a common opening). As she goes hunting and talks to Gale there is a lot of world building. But it's not the kind of amateur world building I see a lot, where it's just a textbook "info dump". Collins starts with the highlights here. Hunger games. Kids fighting to the death. Capitol oppression.

This world building is unpeeled like an onion, I guess (I don't know food metaphors). Later we learn about things like mutations or "mutts", the Careers, the interviews and showmanship aspects of the games. We don't even meet Peeta until next chapter. In this chapter Katniss is very in the moment (she's actually always in the moment, she isn't a super forward thinking character). She's just focused on getting through the day. So all that will come later.

The stakes are super clear. It's a fight to the death and she doesn't want to go. Understandable.

And the twist is that she gets her wish. She isn't picked. I thought this was a beautiful way to play with the audience's expectations. Obviously if you pick up a book called "The Hunger Games" about a fight to the death, you will think the main character is going to get picked and probably Gale as well. That would be the easiest way into the story.

But Prim is picked which is somehow even worse. That's the end of the chapter but I'd defy you to put down this book after reading one chapter and say, "Nah, I don't need to read more I get the gist" (which I will admit I do often in bookstores). Because you know Katniss loves Prim and now you need to find out what she's going to do.

Collins gets knocked a lot online for "copying" Battle Royale (for the record she says she hadn't read it before she wrote this). But the fighting to the death concept is not really new. Stephen King's "The Running Man," Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" and the TV show Survivor are all things that she would have been aware of.

I think the real innovation that she presents here is Katniss becoming so immediately dear to the reader by volunteering for her sister. (Is "I volunteer as tribute" not THE meme to come out of this franchise?) The urge to protect ones own life is so basic to everyone on Earth that we know it is remarkable even if we have never been in a situation like this. And maybe we don't know all the details of Prim and Katniss' relationship yet, but we know the kind of love that it would take to put another person first. I think deep down we all know that we would not volunteer for just anyone and that Katniss is doing something really remarkable.

for @heavensbeehall

[stellaluna33]

13. My favorite line of dialogue from this fic was [xyz]. What inspired it?

14. My favorite line from this fic was [xyz]. What inspired it?

Ngl - I've never read any of your stuff, because I've never actually WATCHED Gilmore Girls (i know... I'll see myself out).

BUT. Whats YOUR favourite lines of dialogue, or lines you've written from anything you've written, and why?

Aw, you're so sweet for asking! 😅

You're going to make me compliment myself, huh? Well, ok, haha. I'll be pulling stuff from my multi-chapter fic, The Long and Winding Road.

13. Favorite line of dialogue? This was hard for me, because even though I feel like I'm pretty good at writing dialogue for these characters, everything seemed kind of lackluster to me in isolation. But this is one I've always chuckled over even though absolutely nobody else has ever mentioned it to me. 😂 "Well, I was kind of in the mood for 'the Great Gatsby' today. You know, I can enjoy the fact that Leonardo DiCaprio finally looks like a grown man, and you can enjoy telling me how 50 Cent really captures the decadence of the Lost Generation…"

This line of dialogue was inspired by... my own feelings about Leonardo Di Caprio (I NEVER got the attraction back in his heartthrob days, haha) and Baz Luhrman's the Great Gatsby, and which of these characters I thought would agree with these opinions. I don't know, I just thought it seemed like something they would say. 😂

14. Favorite line? I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this one before, so people are probably bored of hearing it, but it's: Everything about him was uncontrolled and wild, and so were her feelings about him, and she was never entirely comfortable with that. Falling in love with Jess had been like being caught in a riptide and dragged out to sea. Dean had been the slippery rock she tried desperately to cling to, but her strength just gave out in the end. She could do nothing but drown.

I don't know, I just really like it, haha. I'm a visual artist first, a poet second, and a fiction writer only third, so I tend to think in images, symbolism, and metaphor a lot. I like it. And I have a longtime obsession with the sea, so I love a good maritime metaphor. I just think the ocean (something so huge, beautiful, powerful, and life giving, but also brutal and terrifying) and the way humans interact with it make for some really vivid comparisons to powerful human emotions. And it seemed like a good metaphor for what happened to these characters, that this was a character who liked being able to plan and control her own life, and this love was too inconvenient and too overpowering to allow her to do either of those things. And accepting it felt more like losing a fight than receiving a gift. Like, she wasn't happy about it, more exhausted and resigned. (And if you're thinking that's not a great setup for a healthy relationship, you'd be right! 😅)

(The questions are here if anyone wants to ask)

[sanctuaryforalluniverses]

I keep seeing takes about how the Roy/Keeley reunion was too sudden, or too manipulative, and how Roy hasn't been working on himself at all. Since you guys clearly haven't been watching the same show I have all season, let me do a quick run through:

3x2 - Roy's WHOLE SPEECH about leaving Chelsea early because he could see the end coming and didn't want to drag everyone down and become an embarrassment was such an obvious metaphor for his relationship with Keeley that Trent points it out to us IN THE EPISODE. His wistful (for Roy at least) thought that maybe he should have just stayed and enjoyed it while he could is equally painfully obvious regret that is even MORE obviously for Keeley ends with "but that's not the kind of man I am." (Not a direct quote, but an accurate paraphrase). As the season continues, we will see that that isn't a line of arrogance. It's a line that highlights the fact that Roy's self esteem is complete shit.

(Before you argue with me, let's go back to his confrontation with Trent earlier in the episode. Would someone with GOOD self-esteem carry a negative review about himself in his wallet for DECADES? Not as some kind of motivation, but as something that genuinely upsets him to this day? Can you picture Sam doing this? Or Dani? Or even Isaac? I absolutely CAN picture Jamie doing this, but frankly that only confirms the picture of a cocky man whose self esteem is secretly garbage.)

Speaking of Jamie. The show has paralleled the two men the ENTIRE TIME, and it's quite possible to say that Roy's growing acceptance of Jamie goes hand-in-hand with a growing acceptance for his inner self. His agreeing to train Jamie in the face of Zava's Zava-ness is a recognition of Jamie's value (and maybe in some distant way his own), and even though he's very brusque about it that's also how Roy's been treating himself all season.

Then we get to 3x6 and Roy's insight about how never learning to ride a bike was probably an insult to his grandfather's memory. Rephrased, it hits Roy that a time he shut down because of strong emotions (in order to protect himself from those emotions) would have hurt a person he loved very much. (This will be important later.)

(Also in this episode -- Rebecca's comment to Roy about "someone who feels they're worthy of her." Rebecca has read him like a book this WHOLE TIME. Their friendship is such an underrated treasure.)

Then we get to 3x9, and Roy's talk with Isaac about how he isn't really angry about this, and how he needs to fix it before it screws up something he DOES care about. Roy's speaking from personal experience here, and what's the big thing Roy has screwed up this season?

Also in that episode, Rebecca yelling at Roy about the press conference. She tells him to pull his head out of his ass, and once again talks about Roy not feeling like he's worth anything and how he needs to accept the fact that he deserves good things. He then proceeds to deliver such a fucking beautiful press conference that it brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it. One he was apparently capable of this whole time. He was just so focused on escape before that he'd never let himself.

And in 3x10. To clarify -- neither the letter or the realization was about getting Keeley back. He said he was a mess, and the nice teacher lady said she hoped the mess didn't cause any damage. In that moment, in part because of everything that had come before, he realized that him trying to keep his mess away from Keeley might have caused her damage instead.

(Should he have figured that out well before now? Of course he should have. But when your self-esteem is garbage you don't see depriving someone of your presence as damaging them. In fact, you might even think of it as making their life easier.)

The letter was apologizing for THAT. And he was planning on just leaving it under her door, since a genuine apology demands no response. In fact, he probably kind of hoped he WOULDN'T be there when she read it, but his terrible handwriting made it impossible. And when he's done yes, he does stay a bit, because who WOULDN'T hope that Keeley Jones would suddenly fall into their arms. But when she doesn't, he goes. And if Keeley hadn't called him back, he would have kept going.

You just have to LOOK.

[petruchio]

Oh my god the moon thing? Yeah let’s unpack because I think you’ve found a gem here?

For sure I see the Katniss Diana connection you are making!! She’s the best hunter with a bow (maybe in all of Panem) and as you pointed out she stays thinking about the moon.

Diana is a practical and pragmatic deity. There are tons of stories of Greek and Roman gods’ infidelity, jealousy, drama, etc. But the stories I know about Artemis/Diana always center around justice for young girls (including herself) or hunting legendary creatures.

Even just being the Goddess of such a practical every-man activity (as opposed to being the deity of parties or “being in charge.”) is very Katniss! And something about being put on a pedestal and celebrated by an audience? Existing in a pantheon of performers with varying degrees of power and commonality with you?

But really I think the moon connection is the most meaningful here, and there’s an interesting connection with night in general! Something something, she comes alive at night, something something surveillance state?

During the day Katniss works and interacts in the district (always wearing her indifferent mask) but at evening/night she’s at home with Prim (the only place she lets down the mask.)

In the games she’s still more comfortable at night (daring to sleep), relying on the cover of darkness to keep her safe. It also protects her from the surveillance as well, she can finally hide her face under the covers. I think she even mentions some of her kisses with Peeta at night being meaningful because they probably can’t be seen by lack of light? (Idk fact check me on that one)

The moon is how Katniss (who’s lucky to get a few hours of electricity in the evenings) navigates her world during the moments when she is most free. I think night is when she’s most confident, most daring, and most likely to be herself!

She even pulls out the berries at night, without a thought to the implications. Understanding that rule breakers are punished is a day time masked Katniss thought, but this is Katniss at home, at night, under the moon with someone she loves.

Idk?? What do you think bestie?

ooooooh loving ALL of this!!

i want to dig more into the artemis/diana connection -- i love the idea of katniss as the the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt. it has to be intentional -- we KNOW sc makes tons of references to classical mythology in thg. i love your connection of diana's stories surrounding "justice for young girls" because what drives so much of katniss' behavior is her desire for justice for the young girls she so badly wants to protect (prim and rue) (also diana is the goddess of childbirth -- thinking about katniss and her struggle throughout the novels with whether or not she feels comfortable bringing children into a world suffering beneath an oppressive regime -- i think there's definitely something there too!) but then i love the way you're also thinking of the concept of "being deified" in a metaphorical way as well -- because katniss DOES become a goddess. katniss' image becomes something beyond katniss herself, she does become a "deity" in the sense that she becomes a symbol of something (or the symbol of many things, to many people) rather than a human being. (also i'm on the wikipedia page for diana and apparently in classical times one of her sacred places was ... a lake. GUYS.)

i'm super intrigued by this idea that katniss is most herself at night -- i'm inclined to agree with you and i like all the examples you brought out. and can we also tease out a connection to those most perfect opening lines: "when i wake up, the other side of the bed is cold." if katniss is most herself at night, is it not so poetically beautiful that the story begins when she *wakes up*!? the whole story being one that is, in a sense, an "awakening" to discover that prim is gone? that she was never going to be saved? AAH!

and also along the same lines -- thinking about katniss and her relationship to the night -- can we think about the night vision goggles from the first book! because she encounters them early on but doesn't understand their significance until RUE explains them to her? so something something something seeing through the dark, rue being the person to illuminate the path forward and set into motion the events that will define the rest of the books? !!!! and to your point that she pulls out the berries at night -- YES. the berries that are called ...?? NIGHTlock?

i'd also be intrigued to dig more into references to the sun in the books if we're exploring this night/moon symbolism. the most obvious that i can think of is when she "transforms" into the girl on fire, she thinks to herself "i am as radiant as the sun" but then she also says she looks like a "creature from another world." so to that point, if katniss is aligned with the moon, then of course when she identifies herself as being as "radiant as the sun" we're meant to understand that she is NOT herself when she is dressed up like that. that moment is when katniss is at her least authentic, her least REAL. (and then there's something to be said about fire itself here in context of the night as well: fire as something that brings light and warmth to cold, dark nights. and we know that "peeta is a whiz with fires" from the first book.)

OH and if we're going into katniss at NIGHT there's just so much to dig into wrt to her relationship to peeta. of course there's the quote that i pulled out about their final night in the arena when he has her look at the moon and "acknowledge its progress" (there's a great meta on tumblr about that line and how peeta gives her hope in her darkest times and forces her to acknowledge the progress of the world around her -- it's one of my favorite lines in the book although it goes by so quick when you're reading.) but then there's so much more: there's the fact that their "piece in the games" conversation happens at night, the night before the games. then in cf, there's the "nights" on the train -- and wouldn't we say that's when she and peeta are at their most "real" with each other? stripped of any of the costume and performance of their relationship during the rest of the victory tour? and the fact that the moment she accepts her genuine love for him is "on the night i feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach" -- it's night when she finally accepts and acknowledges that things are REAL? (also how have i never noticed that the whole trilogy opens with her waking up and closes with the night? UGH why is everything in thg so perfect??)

also in my moon research i just found this blog post from 2011 about the moth that land's on katniss' wrist in the first book. and of course there's a lot to be said about moths and the night and the moon but the author of the blog post identifies that the particular green and silver moth is a kind of moth called... get this... a LUNA moth. a MOON MOTH. THE MOON. i'm having a meltdown.

[dpkronmiller]

COME ON BARBIE LET GO PATRIARCHY

Something was different.

Yes, here is a huge hit, female directed, female written and female starring - breaking just amazing records. The first live action comedy to break the top 20 biggest opening weekends. First female directed, written and focused film in that top 20. 162 Million dollar opening weekend. Indiana Jones by comparison only did $60 million domestically and that was cherished cinematic IP with a male protagonist. Mission Impossible didn't crack 100 million and it too had a male protagonist. And it wasn't a holiday weekend. Just another weekend dead in the middle of summer with a huge iMax sized competitor in the Nolan film Oppenheimer - which probably did benefit more from Barbie than Barbie did from it in large part thanks to the genius double feature marketing of Barbieheimer. And some people apparently only saw Oppenheimer because Barbie was sold out.

But wait - so the male starring films all under performed? And Barbie DOUBLED Oppenheimer's take??

And worldwide - it's made over $400 million dollars! Surpassing Jones and Impossibley beating Mission Impossible. Already. In it's first week of release.

Every male driven movie this summer, aside from the testosterone filled mustache of Mario, had weak turnout. Yet the narrative from the industry has been that female centered films don't have enough demand. That people won't turn out for a movie about women and girls and for women and girls.

Yet...here we are...Barbie.

But that's not what I mean by different.

The film is unique. It wasn't what I expected. I thought it might be a fish out of water story in the real world like Enchanted. Or have some quest component whereby Barbie would need to find the hidden McGuffin golden slipper or devise some magic potion to stop some great evil from shooting a laser in the sky, again. 

Instead I was met with fantasy. 

A film structured and written as if kids were playing with their Barbies but not just kids - as if kids were playing Barbie with their Moms and their Moms were using the toys to educate their kids on the suffocating yoke of the male patriarchy. 

But entire film felt like one long playdate with the truth.

From how Barbie magically moves to the ground or travels in between worlds - there's an active surreal quality where one action doesn't necessarily need explanation - she just is now on Venice Beach. She's just now in a white void. She's just now in Ben Shapiro's crawl keeping him from his precious beauty sleep.

But that's not what was different.

And though the film was almost a movie about Barbie AND Ken equally, with both having large arcs and equal screen time, where Ken wasn't just a supporting player but seemingly as much of a center of the movie as Barbie - with performances from Robbie and Gosling that were anything but plastic - but that's not what struck me as different...

Something happened in the theatre.

As the credits started to roll...

...normally everyone sits and maybe waits for an end credit scene quietly or simply slips out in silence...

...this time...

...as soon as the credits rolled...

...the whole theatre started talking, chatting, excitedly with each other, there was such a roar that you couldn't hear Billie Elish's whisper singing during the final song in the credits.

I've never really heard that before. That was different. Not Billie Elish’s whisper singing - will somebody please get that poor lady a throat losenge. 

The chatter. The audience was awake.

There was an excitement. An eagerness to digest what they just saw. A glee.

And it was mostly a female audience.

Well I did hear one man explaining what he thought and say the word existential just a lot - there's always one Ken.

But it was different. This film managed to do something new. And it's honesty and straight forwardness and clarity was refreshing. It didn't just speak in metaphor - it at times just out right said the thing that needed to be said - that men needed to hear. And said them several times. Why? Because, speaking as someone who walks between both worlds, sometimes you have to tell a man something more than once for him to get off his ass and take the damn trash out.

And yet it didn't end on women taking control. The goal wasn't vengeance or domination - the goal was acceptance and ultimately...equality. We just aren’t there yet. Huh...a realistic ending to a plastic world.

#barbie 

[lordtraco]

Giants are hot

Tw: mild emetophobia warning, depressive episode, angst with sorta happy ending

(@somerandomdudelmao took my writers block and suplexed it. I just have SO MANY thoughts on what's going on in Oscar's mind that it became a tiny fic. If I get it wrong, that just means I get to write another that's more right later!)

Oscar curled up in his bed, trying not to think about the slightly-different gravity this cool spaceship created. It wasn't obvious if he kept moving, and he could forget about it right up until he laid down on something soft. Different gravity meant a different planet size, right? Ward could probably crunch the numbers and piece together the exact size of the Marmor home planet if he wanted to based on some funky science.

Ah, Ward, he was glad the guy was safe now, snoring away just like he had aboard their last, far less cool ship. “We humans need to be around other humans…” he muttered to himself.

It wasn't fair. He and Ward barely knew each other, and for all he played up their “friend” status to others, it was a joke at best and a lie at worst. They were opposites in so many ways.

It wasn't fair. Oscar clenched his fist and tried to will the tears away. It was only supposed to be a fun trip. Harass the big, gorgeous nerd so that when their social circles inevitably tore them apart back on Earth, it wouldn't hurt Ward. Oscar knew better than to think it wouldn't hurt himself, but he knew he could manage. He'd gotten over these things before. These crushes.

It wasn't FAIR! Oscar rolled out of his bed, deciding to go for a walk. “It's not fair.” He muttered as he left, playing as if he hadn't noticed the lack of snores. So what if Ward heard? The guy just thought he was a heartless killer with blood on his hands now.

Not a fool who'd went and fallen for the unattainable nerdy giant. Not a scared man just trying to make use of his only skill to keep them all alive. Not a dude hiding his tears over the image of Ward restrained and terrified and oh, so much like the flying-

It wasn't fair, Ward didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be lightyears away from those he would call friends. He didn't deserve to be stuck with someone like Oscar. He should have been safe at home, fuming that some dumb rich kid stole the chance to go into space and disappeared.

But those were always the options, weren't they? Be hated for stealing the show, or be despised for failing to be useful. So, he stole the show, made friends with the dangerous, and indulged in whatever joy he could find at any moment.

Ecliptica was beautiful and powerful, conniving and sweet. She was someone who would eat him alive for the slightest infraction. It reminded him of home, just a bit less metaphorical. The blatant honesty of that was intoxicating.

Giants were hot. He had a crush on one who would never hug him, and one who would. The alien crush should supersede his failed crush, but it only worsened things both ways. He wished that Ecliptica could care about him more than just a useful pet. And he wished that Ward could look that happy to see him.

Oscar pressed a hand against the wall, letting himself break. Tears welled in his eyes and he saw Ward’s hard stare, unforgiving of the cost the “birds” had paid for their current freedom. The girl screaming for help. The masses torn skillfully from living, breathing, speaking people into just. Meat.

His stomach revolted, and he breathed heavily through the wave of nausea. It didn't help that his tears clogged up his nose. It was like his whole body wanted to punish him.

Ecliptica found him. Of course she did. Her pet was sick.

It wasn't fair.

Where was this comfort for Ward? For the guy with a heart of gold beneath the wary sarcasm? Where was the care and tenderness for him?

Oscar could only hope that it would come from their newest roommate. He wasn't sure how much alone time he could offer them now that he knew how quickly the loneliness and guilt could strike. He couldn't afford to be useless to the Marmor. They all couldn't afford Oscar being useless to the Marmor.

Ecliptica tutted softly as Oscar emptied his stomach again. She would have to be more careful not to let bird blood splash on him in the future and said as much.

“Yeah, I guess I won't get to know the difference between the normal and the tasty ones.”

“We’ll help you grow a stronger stomach.”

Oscar was glad he was too drained to panic from that statement. He simply passed out to the feeling of being held close and tenderly carried somewhere. In his fleeting consciousness, his heart won out and he imagined it was Ward carrying him back home. Safe, nothing asked of him, nothing caused by him, just held like a precious living thing.