#ive been saying since i started watching the show that i needed to properly art him and i FINALLY DID

[many-gay-magpies]

my favorite cricket bat-wielding bisexual ♥️

+ some other background variants

[torchstelechos]

i realize how nothingish this question is regards to like answerability but like how do you get.... ideas...? or. i dont really ever have any kind of bigger things i want to draw its always like small stuff.... or... idk.... i want to make things that are like.. more... i want to make stuff that like... means something makes you think something... most of my stuff is just tiny little things with nothing behind it just something to get it down but i like want to make things that are interesting to look at.... idk..... okay wait ill share a self portrait i did.

^ im really hapoy with this stuff theres color theres studf going on! an eclipse! right like its. its neat theres things theres associations being made theres questions theres something there this is the only thing ive made where i actually feel like ive expressed something that was in me and i just dont know how to do that again i want to make more things like that i want to get more out of my art than just putting stuff down thatll be forgotten the second its down i want what i make to be meaningful to me and idk how... uhhhh anyway thanks for reading thisif you do i just needed to get thoughts out or smth frustrated with this. doing this for six years and its just. ive managed like a handful of things id want to show people everything else is just things made because i just have to do this urghhh sorry about all this

Howdy! I had to take a bit to think of an answer for this question. I didn’t want to fall back on the statement everyone gets when they ask about art (practice), especially since you specified ideas rather than art appearance/style. So! Lets get into that! (gonna be kind of long oops)

First I want to say that I enjoy your self portrait, its very colourful and I LOVE colour. The choices in colour also complement each other very well, as yellow, orange, and blues go well together. Not only that, but the saturation of each colour help bounce off each other and bring it all together. Now, I assume the materials are a blue pen, and crayons? It might be markers, but the way the orange moves across the yellow makes me think of crayons. I adore it! I love crayons and haven’t been able to use them in a while, so it’s nice to see them being used. 

Now, your question, I feel needs some context from my side of things before I can properly answer it. I have been doing art for about 15 years now, and I have done multiple mediums including painting (water colour, oil, and acrylic), drawing (crayons, pens, markers, pencils, etc.), fiber arts (knitting, sewing, crocheting), baking/cooking (i think the presentation counts and how its a medium that takes combing lots of things to make a singular outcome), and a few I wont share right now. I’ve had official art classes that made me do things very specifically, one that taught me art history and how different genres of art were introduced, another on creativity and how to help flourish ideas, and some others on how to use different mediums and styles. I also watch speedpaints, animatics, and animation progress videos to learn some quick shortcuts in digital art since I was never taught officially on digital art. Including all of these, I also have done LOTS of practice in art. Having said this, lets get into some of my own thought processes. 

When I make art, the first things I tend to ask myself is “what do I want” and “what do I think would be interesting”? These aren't mutually exclusive, but they can be answered very differently depending on how I want to do something. For the Siffrin during the Mal du Pays fight piece, I actually started it by seeing a cat picture and thinking, “I want a discord reaction with Siffrin face down on the floor” which went into drawing Siffrin as the cat and then asking myself, “Wait, why is Siffrin face down?” which went into Oh! It’d be funny if it was Mal du Pays! So, doing that I decided to make it in the king's room which meant I had to draw a background. Eventually that transformed into “Okay but it doesnt look right, why?” the answer was that it didnt look like the game so I had to add some texture details and ta-da! Siffrin face down! 

But this also comes from years of practice in knowing what I want and knowing how to draw it, some of my art pieces were, “I think it would be cool if I drew a character looking down at me in front of a skyscraper” but um,, I didnt know how to draw that ;-; so I had to just let my hands kind of try and finish the piece even if I didnt like it. At that point, I realized I needed to practice the character and my style more until I COULD draw what I wanted. Which led into my drawing, a LOT of things I couldn’t and didnt like. 

As for symbolism in art, and how I got ideas for it, a lot of it comes down to knowing the character and how you want to translate your thoughts of the character into art. One of the ways I started doing this was adding flowers to the characters art, or learning what flower I considered “theirs” that way I could add hints to  it in the drawings. Some of it also came from animals, others came from art genres and their historical significance, and some come down to theories (such as colour theory in art). 

Finally, it really does come down to practice. As much as I hate to say it, a lot of the art pieces I do and share tend to lean towards “practice” or concept doodles so that I can better understand HOW I want to add it to a bigger piece. Most of my Siffrin and Loop drawings tend more to that as I need to better understand how their shapes and lines communicate to an art piece (Loop being a fucking star gets me so much) before i can add symbolism and make a bigger art piece. Even then, sometimes it doesnt work and the bigger art piece needs to be put to a back burner before i can communicate my thoughts on the characters as I wish to. 

(Here’s also a neat little trick I do, write out what you want to draw and then draw thumbnails so you can figure out the composition of the piece you want. It helps you know where something goes and how you want it to appear without keeping it in our brain for a long period of time. Some of the things I share are concept doodles but I’ve shared pictures of me doing this before! It can be annoying but trust me, it helps when you can’t figure out the draft at all.) 

Also, heres some of my REAL old art for reference when I say I’ve practiced a lot and didn’t always know how to do big art pieces ;;;;

Hope that helped answer some of my thought process on ideas and how that translates to art? I could go into more detail if you need me to discuss something further

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

A Helping Hand

a/n: It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic. Ive been working on my health considering how much stress I was under at my old job, but I’m doing much better now. Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this.

This fic is set before Zeta 7 and the reader were dating, and when they were still friends. Set during and before the beginning of The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick series.

In this fic the reader only wants to help.

————-

It was almost time for you to eat again. At times it almost seemed to be more of a chore than a necessity to have a meal or to follow the routine of it, but hunger had led you here. And although there were many other things you might've preferred to do, this was what had to be done at the moment. Anticipatory feelings were lacking as you opened up the fridge; had it been conveniently full of delicious food which didn't need to be put together, and could simply be warmed up, that would have been great, but that was wishful thinking. Of course, you hadn't gone food shopping yet, so your old fridge was bare; eating out was an option, but you already did that for lunch and it didn't feel worth getting properly dressed for.

It had been while you were thinking of a creative way to use elbow pasta and ketchup when a song played through the tiny speakers of your phone; it was a phone call and you didn't have to hesitate to answer; it was from your favorite person; from Rick. You tried not to get too excited whenever he would call, but you couldn't help yourself; hearing his voice alone could make you happy. Pressing the green answer button on your touch screen, you smiled despite his inability to see it. “Hello Rick. How are you?”

“He-hello? I'm um - I'm fine. I hope this - is this a-a good time?”

His usual soft, cheerful voice seemed reluctant, almost shy tonight. You always thought he sounded sweeter over the phone, and it just made you want to tease him a little. Leaning against your kitchen counter, you could not help but laugh. “A good time? It is now. So, what’s up? Other than the ceiling. ”

He chuckled at that and you were relieved he couldn't see you at this moment, for the warmth in your cheeks would take a couple of minutes to recover from. “Gosh," he started, "I-I-I-I-I was just wondering if y-you would like to come over. It’s almost time for dinner and I um - I finished cooking, but…”

“You cooked too much again?”

“Y-yeah.”

"You're going to go through all your groceries that way."

"I-I couldn't help it." he confessed. "This recipe called f-for a certain amount of ingredients, but then a-again I guess it's f-for multiple servings."

You heard him sigh, and the thought of his frowning face came to mind. So, this was simply to invite you to dinner: it didn't matter what he might've called you for; the answer was almost always yes. As of late, Rick had been cooking more than one person could eat at a time; you always did think it was odd that he'd cook in abundance, especially since he lived alone, but he'd blame it on old habits. However, it made you wonder if he was looking for reasons not to eat alone; not that you minded. Interrupting the silence, you commented. “Well, I guess I'll have to help you make it disappear then."

"Huh?" he brightened, "Is that a-a yes?"

"What do you think it means? Yes, that's a yes. Goodness," you giggled. "I'll see you soon.”

You hung up and rushed back upstairs to change. What a silly man you thought. Such a silly…but adorable man, who had so much room for kindness and doubt.

——————

It was lovely to see him, and to listen to what he'd call gossip but was only the latest development of the pigeons which had made a nest in one of his fruit trees. "Y-you gotta see how they've made their nest. Boy, it's - it's fascinating how they used s-some old magazine clippings and hair ties."

Touching his hand lightly, you wondered. "Do you have any pics of them that you can show me?"

With raised brow, he started. “Sh-sh-show you?"

"Yeah," You leaned forward a little, and smiled. "I want to see what you've been telling me about."

Without hesitation, he searched his labcoat pockets and retrieved his phone; scrolling through his gallery until he came across said pictures. "I-I-I-I took these a couple of - of days ago."

Your fingers lightly brushed his palm as you grabbed his phone to glance through the pictures; he had a good eye for angles and lighting, and from the looks of it, the pigeons seemed to be relaxed so he might've fed them first; how nice. "They're so cute. I can’t get over how fluffy they look."

Replacing the phone into his palm, he visibly tensed; your fingers had brushed his palm again. Now, the urge to allow your hand to linger there was strong and the thought of lacing your fingers with his had been tempting, but you did neither. You quickly withdrew, with a new sense of embarrassment over such thoughts. He wouldn't understand how you felt, because he didn't see you that way.

“How do y-y-you like them?”

Hiding behind your water glass, you answered. “Way more than I thought I would.”

_________

Rick was still eating, but not with the same vigor from earlier. You wondered if you had insulted him or something; he had been avoiding direct eye contact for a while. You were no reader of minds, so there was no telling of the feelings inside; of those senses which couldn't be touched. "Rick, is something wrong? Have I….. have I overstayed my welcome and you don't know how to tell me? Is...is that why you won't look at me?"

"N-no, that's not it."

"Then, did I hurt your feelings? I hope not."

He sagged a little in his seat, and he didn't answer, but he shook his head no. You thought back to earlier, and how you had looked at the pictures he took and called them cute, but other than that, you didn't say anything problematic. Was it because you asked? Maybe it wasn't.

It was easy to hurt his feelings being as sensitive as he was, and although it might've been against your better judgment, you reached out and touched the back of his hand. "Please talk to me. I don't know what I did, but I'm so sorry. I don't want you to be upset at me."

With widened eyes, he's gazed at your hand, then back towards you. "No, that’s not th-the problem."

"Then why are you so quiet all of a sudden? It isn't like you."

"It's because I…I'm s-s-sorry I talk so much."

"What do you mean? Where is this coming from?"

"It appeared as though y-you were getting tired of all my talking.” He started in an almost accusatory manner but must've realized how it sounded and continued with more calmness. “Gee, I-I didn't want to sour the evening, s-s-so I thought I should just sh-shut up."

"But I don't want you to do that. I love all your talking."

"R-really?"

His surprise at this pained you. How could he think that you'd tire of it and him? Maybe when you were thinking, he mistook it as disinterest. How could you show him you cared? You did what only seemed natural and squeezed his hand but he stiffened.

You realized that when he didn't answer right away, that the napkin he had been using had been dropped and was now on the floor; a faint blush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears. You didn't think that it'd be such a big deal to randomly touch him, but you thought it was sweet that he'd get flustered like that; if he wasn't so shy at times, you'd think there was more to it; if only there was. "It's fun hearing you talk.” You confessed. “I feel as though I have so much I can learn from you. So feel free to talk to me."

The relief that washed over him was palpable and he smiled warmly at this. It made your heart swell, and you withdrew your hand although it appeared that he wouldn't have minded. Still, you didn't want to upset him again with misunderstandings. "Y-you're a really nice person. It's - I'm glad t-to know someone like you."

You were glad too.

____________

"Anyway, it's interesting how they can take one man's trash and turn it into a home, but what could they do if given better materials?"

Taking a drink of water, he managed to recover a little. "I-I bet they could make a-a work of art if given the right materials. Wh-why do you ask?"

"I just wanted to know what you were thinking in that brain of yours. Must be interesting, especially with all the things you can come up with."

Yes, you did find the topic of pigeons fascinating but not as much as you found that toothy grin of his inviting. Having finished eating, you listened happily to his delightful little tales and knowings; watching as he'd start eating but then forget his food when he was at the peak of his explanation. He always did seem more cheerful when you were over and had so much to tell you when you were here, but you attributed that to the fact that he didn't have many friends. Though, you didn't mind his need for conversation; rather you enjoyed how random and easy it was to talk with him; his sweetness enriched your soul whenever he was especially happy and attentive in conversation. Handing him a new napkin, you teased. "I'm surprised you haven't made a mini-mansion type birdhouse for them out of whatever spare wood you have in the garage. Unless you already have. I bet it'd be all tricked out with a little warm birdbath and a small mirror so they can check themselves out, fluff their feathers and such."

"Gosh," he sighed, waving his fork a little as he ruminated on his thoughts before the beginnings of a boyish smile appeared on his lips. "did I already tell y-you about that?"

"No," you giggled; happy that your assumptions weren't farfetched. "but I took a wild guess."

He was that kind of guy after all; soft-hearted and fond of the living things around him; it was one of the many qualities that endeared him to you. You wished you could've taken part in its construction. "If you had told me sooner," you mentioned. "I would have helped. I could've helped painting it or something."

"Gosh, I thought y-you had other things to do so I…it wasn't a-a big deal. It was simply an um - an old man's hobby."

"It's just….it sounded like fun. I know it might not mean much saying this, but I would've enjoyed spending that time with you. Working side by side and discussing little details about it. I would…. You see, I love spending time with you."

It was only after you had said all that, in which you realized how easy it would've been to misconstrued. Sitting there, you resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands; wondering what was with you these days. Since when was it okay to get bold and be frank like that? Every so often, when you did say such things, you saw, for fractions of moments, confusion and more….as though he ought to say something; there were no tears and there never was, but you thought he seemed hurt; glassy-eyed and lost. Studying you, he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again; preferring to examine his napkin and tableware then to continue that thought.

He did this often, especially when you surprised him; for better or worse. Perhaps he didn't want to appear foolish, but whatever he could've said was interrupted by your sudden movement. You reached over for his empty dish and went over to the sink to begin on the dishes. However, he jumped up and insisted that you needn't help to clean, snapping out of whatever mood which might've overcome him a moment ago. You thought it was the least you could do; if you had been a decent cook you would've offered a meal in return, but it wasn't likely that it was going to happen. "Rick, you cooked so I might as well help you clean."

"Gosh, y-you don't have to do that. I was the one that invited you over. As th-the host, it's my responsibility."

"That may be true," you reasoned, feeling responsible for him in some way. "but you're always doing stuff for me, so I thought I'd stay and help for a bit."

"Huh? Wh-what?"

"Yeah. I mean what good are friends if you can't put them to work every so often? Besides," you quieted a bit as you scrubbed away at the baking pan. "I want to help you."

It's not like you were using this as an excuse to stay a little longer now. Right? Well, just a little. It was still early and you didn't want to go home yet. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he chuckled lightly. "Well, I-I guess I'll help y-you dry."

Standing beside you, his warmth radiated off him, and from this close, you could smell spices, a hint of vanilla, and motor oil? Perhaps it was the scent of his house, but it was comforting. Good thing you had the excuse of concentrating on scrubbing because otherwise, it would've been obvious on how affected you were by him.

_______

After you finished wiping down the counters, you checked the time and thought you'd be better off heading on home. Grabbing your keys you were ready to say goodbye, but he followed you to the door. "Are y-y-you going?"

Without facing him, you nodded. "I am."

"Then I'll walk y-you home."

"Okay."

In the past, you had told him that it wasn't necessary since you lived so close, but you came to enjoy those small moments of kindness; of his sincere care for your well-being that made the world a slightly easier place to live. The walk didn't take long since you only lived a few doors down, but it was lovely nonetheless. "Thank you for the food. It was really good."

Scratching the back of his neck, he answered. "I-I hoped you would. I um - I enjoyed y-your company."

"Me too."

You played with your keys a little, wondering why you should be so nervous. It's not like you two were dating; it's not like he'd even consider the possibility, but it was moments like this that made you hope and contemplate if you should just tell him. It was always on tip of your tongue; the words which begged to be said, but you weren't feeling brave yet. You needed more time; just enough to be ready for a change. There was no rush, but logic and feelings didn't coincide. "Rick," you started, unsure of what you were doing. "can I um….can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes! Of c-course. What's on y-your mind?"

Think of something you thought. "You'd tell me if you needed help, wouldn't you? I'm not talking about what we did this evening, but stuff that….like if you need help with your chores or something. I know you get busy sometimes and I'd hate it if you weren't all caught up on the latest news about your pigeons or if there were dishes that needed washing."

"Gosh, I-I thought I was doing f-fine with all that," he confessed. "but it - I'll be sure t-to let you know."

"Good, that's...that's good because I'm always happy to help you."

Gathering whatever foolishness which laid at the pit of your stomach and daydreams, you rested a hand on his arm and smiled up at him. "Rick, I'd do almost about anything for you….that is…if that's….. that is what friends are for, right? At least that's what I think."

Though, was that what you thought? Wasn't this just a roundabout way of saying you wanted to be around him more? Oh, if only he could understand. You knew it wasn't right to mislead him, but he never reacted the way you thought he should.

Glancing down at where your hand still laid, a wistful, almost sad quality passed across his stormy eyes before continuing. "Boy, th-that's thoughtful," he began, though as easily as a summer sky could change so did his words. "but I-I wouldn't want t-to bother you or take up your time with anything like that."

"That's the thing, it wouldn't be a bother at all."

This is where you thought you'd messed up, but you couldn't seem to keep quiet when he was involved. It felt as though you were trying to monopolize your way into spending more time with him; as though you were desperate to get him to be around you. "I mean, as a writer, I can just do my job whenever. So, you don't have to hesitate."

That familiar flit of sadness passed over his eyes again and you thought that maybe he pitied you because all you had in the world was yourself and a house you simply inherited. You didn't want to tell him you were lonely, because if you did, you didn't want him to think that it was the only reason you spent time with him; it'd break your heart if you hurt this sensitive creature, but you couldn't help yourself; it was your selfishness talking. True, you were making this more complicated than it had to be, but you didn't know how to fix that yet. "I just…I don't mind being around you more and hanging out. That's all."

Although, it might've not been as complicated after all for it didn't take much for him to lift up your moods. All he had to do was smile, and to pull you into his arms for a big hug. Did he know?

"Rick?"

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, he confessed. "Gee, it's - I-I appreciate your worrying a-about me," he started, his soft, warm voice brushing past your ear and giving you goosebumps. "but I can't - can't help but wonder why y-you look as though you could use a friend right now. Are you al-alright? Did y-you want t-t-to talk about it?"

Your fingers dug into the worn fabric of his sweater and you wanted to cry because he was so devastatingly kind, and you knew in that one moment it didn't matter how long you held on to him; he'd let you hold him for as long as you needed because he was great at empathizing. Little did he know it unraveled your heart every time. "You're right Rick, I do need a friend. I…I need...."

You; the word which refused to leave your mouth. His assumption filled in the blank. "You probably miss your dad on nights like this huh? It's hard t-to go home to an empty house."

That was partly true. "Mhm."

Rubbing your back, he sighed. "Th-there there. Everything is going t-t-to be alright."

Is it? Would it be alright? No, he didn't know or if he did, he ignored it. Though, like this, you could almost believe there was more to this relationship than… then being good friends.

With your face hidden in the softness of his sweater, held so sure and firm, with such strength that seemed unnatural for one his age, he was as you thought of him; as a man you held in the highest regard, beyond reason or doubt that you could love if…if it was appropriate. Why couldn't he stay that friend that you needed and why did you wish for more than this? Was this to be your punishment? To adore someone who made you happy but couldn't be more than society should allow?

"Will I be alright?" you confessed more to yourself than to him.

Squeezing you a fraction tighter, you felt him nod. "Y-you're young, so y-you will be."

That's right, you were young; too young for him. While you had been ready to beat yourself up for it, he continued in a voice that was above a whisper. "I'd like t-t-to help you if I can but only if y-you want me to. Is that o-okay? Do you want me t-to?"

You wanted so much, but more than anything you wanted what he was willing to give. Rubbing his back in a similar, soothing motion, you softened. "Please do."

Another sigh escaped him, but he continued to rub your back; the warmth of his hands and sounds of his breathing making you a little sleepy. You hadn't been checking the time, but you were sure that it had been a while. What you hadn't been sure of was what the neighbors were going to think if they saw you two in such a warm embrace at this time of the evening or anytime for that matter; you didn't care because this felt right. It was as though you could melt into him with how comforting it was. Who knows how long you must've held onto him, but eventually you heard him say softly, albeit oddly disappointed. "It's getting late and I-I should let you go. It's…and you…but y-you can always call me if you - if you can't sleep."

Glancing up at him, you wondered why it ever had to end. However, with reluctance, you pulled away, but only enough so that you could hold him a little longer. "You're right. I…I should go to bed. Thank you for the lovely evening, my wonderful… my friend."

And with that, you released your hold on him. However, if you hadn't known any better, the look he gave you was softer than his usual ones. Was…no…it must've been nothing. A trick of the dim porch light. Half hidden by the dark, he confessed. "Thank you f-for being my - for being my friend. It makes me happy t-to have you around. I'll um - I'll be sure t-to make myself more available to you if you need me."

Your heart ached with half affection, half guilt. You really were asking for so much you didn't deserve. "Oh Rick, I'd appreciate that."

For a quick second, you saw him stretch out his hand but just as quickly let it fall back to his side. Then, he stepped back and reminded you. "Don't forget t-to lock the door."

"I won't."

You opened your front door, and smiled up at him from your doorway, trying to channel all that you felt in a single word; knowing that was all you could do for now. "Goodnight."

Softening, he turned away quickly, mostly hidden in the darkness, and waved. "D-don't let th-the bed bugs bite."

Closing the door behind you, you barely made it to the couch before you began to cry. What were you thinking? Playing around with a lonely man's feelings and possibly confusing him. Could you ever get over him? Would your heart let you?

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you thought back to only minutes ago when you were secure in his arms, and you felt as though you belonged to him. And how your blouse smelled like him now or that his care for you was almost enough. Though, were his actions like that of a parent? You could only wonder. Though, if you couldn't get over him, couldn't you help change his mind?

When you had calmed a little and had time to change and get a drink of water, you found that you still weren't sleepy. It was late but before you could give it much forethought, you dialed his number and he picked up right away. "C-can't sleep?"

"Yeah."

"Me either. I um - I was thinking a-about what you said about th-the birdhouse. While it is built, and I'd painted it, I would be happy t-t-to have you over when you're available and help me make it pretty. Gosh, it's - it's only if you want to."

"That would be lovely. Too bad it's late because I would've come over now if you'd asked."

"Y-you see, that wouldn't um - tomorrow would be better."

"What's the matter? A little sleepover never hurt anybody." You teased.

Right away you heard a clatter and then a crack. Did he drop his phone?

"Rick? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I-I-I-I just - my phone had fallen."

"I see. Sorry for the bad joke."

“It's o-okay. Just surprised me is -is all.”

A chair scraped the floor, and you heard the click of either a pen or a small appliance. "I-I don't think I'll be able to sleep t-tonight but I won't keep you up with m-my thoughts. It'd get kind of boring for you."

"I mean, I am tired, but I don't mind listening to you for a while. Could you just talk? It can be about anything."

He sighed into the phone, and you heard paper. Perhaps he was flipping through a book. “I-I was thinking of reading, but my eyes are a-a bit tired.”

“When you do read, do you only read nonfiction?”

“I-I like to read a little bit of everything.”

“You do? Well, how convenient. I happen to have a bunch of books and if you'd ever like to borrow any of them, you're free to do so.”

“Boy, I'll have to take a-a look the next time I’m over. Hey, um - I do have a-a story you might enjoy. It has t-t-to do with how I came to have jasmine in my backyard. Would you like t-to hear it?”

Grabbing a pillow, you nodded. “Yes, I really would. Though, tell it slowly so that I don't miss a thing.”

With a chuckle, he began to explain, and you placed the phone beside you; careful as to not drop it as his sing-song voice twisted and curled about you in your lonely room.

Fin

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

[amerrierworld]

Curtain. (iv)

Carol (2015) fanfiction

Pt: 1 | 2 | 3

Word Count: 1,289

September - just before the first day.

"Yes, yes. I know, Harge. I'm her mother for God's sake, I'm not going to forget anything," Carol grumbled into the phone as she grabbed the last of Rindy's bags from the back of the car.

"Well you better make sure she gets everything she needs, Carol," her ex-husband responded gruffly. "I want her to do well in school."

"Harge, it's first grade. What dire needs would a six-year old have to have? It's not like she's learning calculus."

"Listen, I don't want to have a tantrum-prone child at my house in a month because you decide not to discipline her with the school. They like me over there, you know."

"Yes, you've told me many times, Harge. Just because you have the money to fund that school and make them all lovey-dovey for your spare change does not mean we normal people have money coming out our asses."

"Watch it, Ross. It's still my name in the registration."

Carol pursed her lips, forming a foul expression but deciding not to snap back.

"Anyway, I want her in at least one team. They're very disciplined with their physical education, it'll do Rindy some good."

"What? You can't be serious, Harge. She's too young to be participating with any rigorous sports-"

"And I said she was too young to make her suffer through her parent's divorce, but here we are."

Carol sighed as she closed the car and headed up the steps to the house. "I can't promise anything. When Rindy wants something from that school, she gets it, fine. But if it's not sports, that's just too bad. So don't come blaming me if she wants to play in the band or some crap, okay?"

"Fine."

"I'll bring her over on the last Friday of the month, like we agreed."

"Thank you, Carol." His voice was cold and monotone and Carol summoned all her will power not to throw her phone against the brick wall. She hung up before he could say anything else and pushed through the front door.

"Mommy!" A squeal of delight sounded from the living room as her daughter came bounding towards her. Notorious wine-aunt and babysitter Abigail Gerhard followed closely behind.

"There you are, nitwit. Rindy was beginning to think her mom had been kidnapped."

"Oh nonsense," Carol said, crouching down to pick up her daughter, whose wispy blonde curls were sticking out everywhere. "I've got the last bits of your stuff, sweet pea. Now we can properly arrange your new room."

"Yay!"

"I best get going, Carol. I got you some of those bath salts you really like, I figured you might need some, plus they were on sale, so I had to."

"You're the best, Abby, I can't thank you enough."

Carol gave her best friend a quick peck on the cheek as she passed by her to the front door.

"Good luck with school, kiddo," she ruffled Rindy's hair and gave Carol one last squeeze on her shoulder before exiting the house.

Rindy snuggled in tightly against Carol and her heart felt like it was about to burst. She wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter, kissing the top of her head and letting out a sigh of relief. The bags could wait, she thought.

"It's far too quiet here without Aunt Abby, don't you think? Let's put on some music and I'll make us some dinner."

"Can we listen to Frozen, momma?"

"Of course, sweet pea."

-

After chicken nuggets and a desperate attempt to make Rindy eat some broccoli, her daughter lay tuckered out on Carol's lap, who was watching the news rather than Coco for the fifteenth time. Her legs were stiff but she dared not move from her spot. Rindy had flailed around and danced to endless Disney songs, forcing her mom to dance with her in the kitchen while making dinner.

Now, it was getting late and the way her eyes were straining against the bright TV made Carol realize it was probably time for her to go to bed as well. Eventually she relented and got up, cradling Rindy carefully as to not wake her up before heading to her new bedroom. The bed had been made and Rindy's fairy lights were strung up, but there were still loads of boxes meant to be gone through. The walls were a soft lavender shade with butterfly decorations everywhere; on the walls, lamps, and closet door.

Carol tucked her daughter into bed and wished her a quiet good night before turning the lights out and leaving. She left the door open a crack like she always did and headed to her own bedroom, which seemed much darker and lonelier compared to the toddler's dreamy childhood bedroom.

Carol debated a hot bath to help her relax but decided against it for the sake of sleep. She threw on an old shirt and a pair of boxer briefs to sleep in and crawled to the middle of the large bed, surrounding herself with the thick duvet and ample pillows. The air conditioning made it extra cold in her room and she felt herself trying to get to sleep, but her brain was too preoccupied to let her body shut down.

Carol grabbed her phone, intending to call Abby but remembered that she had a date that evening, which is why she had left so hurriedly. Abby was most definitely already occupied at this time.

Instead, she went to the school's online directory. The title Frankenberg Elementary came up and Carol scrolled through the names of teachers, wanting to remember as many as possible.

Carol and Harge had been huge influences on the school since Rindy started going there. Harge spared no expense in funding many of the school's programs, and consequently gaining immunity for their daughter through power play. Though the thought of it made Carol squirm with guilt, she knew at least now Rindy wouldn't be treated unfairly by the system. Other kids, not so much.

She went straight to the phys-ed tab and up came T. Tucker. Carol sighed, knowing she'd have to face him for another year. Him and Harge had got on swimmingly from the beginning, but Carol had never really enjoyed his company or comments. His female counter part; Mrs. Morgan who taught phys-ed to younger years found him just as insufferable, as she had noted at several PTA meetings.

She went through the regular listings, noting that Robichek was teaching kindergarten again, and thanking heaven that she didn't have to deal with the elderly woman again now that Rindy was out of kindergarten.

A new subheading under Subjects caught Carol's eye; Art. She didn't remember there being a distinct art teacher before; usually it was just doodle or craft assignments assigned by regular teachers.

She clicked.

One name came up.

T. Belivet

Carol blinked at her screen, her eyelids heavy, and frowned. Surely it wasn't the same girl as the shy, petite brunette who had taken photo after photo of Carol which she had pretended not to see? The name seemed too familiar... but what were the chances the girl would be teaching at Rindy's school? Carol scoffed at her own imagined fantasy. It was ridiculous. Abby was right; she ought to get on the dating scene again instead of these desperate fantasies and daydreams.

There was no picture. For all she knew, it could be a relative. If Abby wanted to hire Therese again for the Christmas show, surely she wouldn't have started teaching at a kids' school?

Carol shut off her phone and groaned a little at the ache behind her eyes. It wasn't worth worrying about things that probably meant nothing. She turned over on her side, and curled into a protective ball, determined to get some sleep and give Rindy the best first day.

A/N: My promised Just Pretend pt 2 is coming up after this folks, and then the rest of my queue. I’ve just been on a roll with Carol and Therese that I gotta get some chapters out of my system :3 love you all

[tsarisfanfiction]

Melt IV

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: John Tracy, Scott Tracy, Virgil Tracy, Gordon Tracy, EOS

Part 4 of my entry for @gumnut-logic‘s SensorySunday: Smell. Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

I’d say I’ve got this fic back on track - despite John going off on me at the start of this part - but that would be a lie.  I know where I think it’s going to go from here, but we’ll see if it listens to me.  I’m doubtful.

“Talk to me, Scott. What happened?”

Virgil wasn’t the only one worried.  All John had had was heat readings way past Scott’s suit’s parameters to deal with to tell him what was happening to his older brother as the avalanche had borne down on him and Gordon – who, aside from an increased heartrate and rising temperature in his gloves, had no maladies reaching Thunderbird Five’s sensors. Scott would no doubt be devastated when he found out that John had sacrificed Thunderbird One to the avalanche to shield them; ideally he’d have opened the cargo bay doors and swallowed both brothers up, away from the snow, but there were limitations to remote controlling Thunderbirds from space.  He’d done what he could, and no matter what Scott had to say about it later, John would never regret it.

Lives before machines.  Relegated to listening and watching rescues and his brothers’ recklessness (all four of them, no matter what Virgil might claim about being the responsible one), John had learnt to prioritise.  A Thunderbird could be repaired, or replaced.  A brother could not.

He had no desire to ever be the eldest brother, and if he had to destroy his sole big brother’s Thunderbird to keep that title away from him, then he’d do it as many times as it took. Similarly, he had no desire to end up an only child, nor indeed to have anything less than one older brother and three younger.  John had always had a gift for gaining unauthorised access, but it was with his own Thunderbird that he’d honed that to the art it was now.  His siblings thought he did it to help them with their missions, to take part as best he could.

They weren’t wrong; John was a member of International Rescue just as much as the rest of them.  It just wasn’t the entire reason – or even the main reason, if he was honest to himself. Gaining control of the most innocent of things – a plane door, a train signal – was always to keep his brothers as safe as they could possibly be in this dangerous job their father had left in their hands.

Sometimes, John resented their father for that, in his darkest moods, when there’d been yet another too close moment, when he’d been the sole witness to a brother’s breakdown because the pressure was just too much.  He resented him for leaving them, even if there was really no other way Jeff Tracy could have left the world – with a bang, saving lives.

That end awaited them, one day.  One day, all together or one by one, they wouldn’t come home from a rescue and the world would mourn a hero, forgetting that heroes had families, too. Up in space, in a constant state of danger as opposed to the ever-fluctuating levels his brothers threw themselves into, John didn’t know if he’d be the first or last to follow their parents.  He suspected the latter, because that was all he could ever do, wasn’t it?  Watch, and be useless when he most wanted to be able to do something.

He hadn’t been useless today.  He’d had Thunderbird One at his disposal, and both his brothers were alive.  It was just another day of too close, bringing back to the fore the ever-lurking fear that one day too close would become too late.

EOS was taking Thunderbird Two to the nearest hospital with a burn specialist unit.  Not New Zealand – for all that was their usual hospital, the local one they liked to use whenever they had a choice, there were other, better hospitals closer, and John was worried.

“The HeliPod exploded,” Scott rasped at him.  He looked awful, and John didn’t bother trying to convince himself that it was just the hologram’s blue tinge making him seem pale.  Enough of his big brother was being projected into his Thunderbird that he could see where his mangled uniform had been cut off, stuck to burns that should never had happened.  “Some of it landed on me.  Gordon tried- Gordon!  John, how is Gordon?”

Typical Scott.

“Gordon is fine.”  He knew for a fact that Scott had already been told that.  Several times.

“Has he woken up?”

“We’re talking about what happened,” John reminded him.  Gordon had woken up.  In fact, he’d been awake since Virgil had put him in the cargo pod, but all three brothers had unanimously decided that Scott was a higher priority.  If Scott was thinking properly, he’d have known that Virgil would not leave an unconscious patient alone for that long (as much as John hated it, as long as he was only there via hologram he didn’t count), but he wasn’t and all three of them had unashamedly preyed on his concern about Gordon to get him to co-operate.

Cruel?  Probably, but Scott had long since proven that the only way to get him to even vaguely co-operate with medical care was manipulation. They’d deal with Storm Scott later when he figured it out.

“Give me an update on Gordon, Thunderbird Five.”

Of course, the downside was that Scott had a single-track mind regarding their younger brother and getting him to focus on anything else would be an absolute nightmare.  Right now, John was rather concerned about an ‘exploding’ HeliPod, considering nothing Brains ever built and approved for use would explode unintentionally, and would appreciate more details.

Besides, Scott had suffered through the first stage of treatment.

“He has a broken leg and a broken wrist, but both breaks are clean,” John assured him.  “His suit protected him from the cold so there’s minimal concern regarding hypothermia.  His fingers have some first degree burns, but nothing of concern.  And yes, he has regained consciousness.”  Scott visibly relaxed, and John kept a close eye on him for an escape attempt even as a hurriedly typed message to Virgil informed him of the update to Scott’s knowledge. A moment later a text reply arrived.

Almost done w G.

“Now, what was that about the HeliPod exploding?” he asked Scott.  “That shouldn’t happen.”

“I don’t know,” his brother groaned.  “Gordon took us around the peak, and then it fireballed.”  No, John did not like the sound of that.

He immediately pulled up all the scans of the area, looking for anything that could have possibly caused a malfunction of that level.  Nothing immediately showed itself, but John was nothing if not persistent.

Especially when his brothers were involved.

“Thunderbird Two will be arriving shortly,” EOS chipped in, just as Virgil left the pod and headed back to Scott’s side.

“Thank you, EOS,” his brother said.  “Scott, this is your stop.”

“What?”  Scott sounded horrified at the idea, and John watched Virgil jump forwards to lightly hold him down, securing the straps enough to stop any successful escape attempts from their injured brother.  “What do you mean, my stop?”

“Exactly what I said,” Virgil said matter-of-factly.  “You might be conscious, but you’re still seriously injured beyond anything we can handle at base.”

“This hospital has a specialist burn unit,” John interjected, before Scott could start arguing back. It didn’t pacify their older brother at all, but there was nothing he could do about it as Thunderbird Two landed and Scott found himself being pushed out to the waiting paramedics. Virgil ushered the climbers out as well, to thanks and more apologies.

“We’re not leaving Scott there alone, are we?” Gordon asked him and he turned to his younger brother’s hologram.  Of all of them, Gordon knew best what it was like to be alone in a hospital, and always made a point of ensuring none of the rest of them were alone for long.  The only thing stopping him this time was his own injuries, none of which were severe enough to justify taking up hospital space when they could treat them just fine at home.

“Kayo’s on her way with Grandma,” he informed him.  Their sister was furious at what little information he’d already streamed her way, and it had taken some stern words from Grandma to get her to agree to go to the hospital instead of heading for the crash site to investigate.  “Scott won’t be alone.”  Gordon sighed but seemed pacified enough for the moment.

There was no cameras John could legally use in the hospital, but when it came to his brothers, John wasn’t overly concerned about legality.  It took barely a minute to get into the security system, tracking Scott’s journey and watching as he was taken straight to the burn ward.  There was no sound, but he could see Virgil debriefing one of the physicians before heading back to Thunderbird Two.

There was nothing more John could do for his brothers; EOS kept the feed from the hospital up in the corner, always showing whichever camera was currently focused on his brother, but John had better things to do than sit and watch helplessly as they began work on Scott’s injuries, although he couldn’t help glancing over periodically to see high-grade anaesthetic being administered before treatment began.

Thunderbird Shadow was quick to appear, landing next to Thunderbird Two.  John watched as hugs were exchanged, Grandma briefly entering the module to hug Gordon, and then the two women were heading inside.  He directed them to the relevant ward personally, rather than letting the well-meaning staff waylay them, then watched Thunderbird Two take off for home.

Satisfied for now that his brothers were in good hands, and allowing Gordon to patch himself through to a by now agitated Alan – who had been largely kept out of the loop and therefore getting more and more frustrated ever since Thunderbird Shadow had taken off – he turned his attention to the biggest concern of the day.

He needed to talk to Brains.

Part 5

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (12/?)

AO3

Cady waits until she’s on the bus home before she lets the smile drop from her face. Her cheeks actually hurt from smiling so much, and they’re not the only thing that hurt.

She wants to not have a problem with this. More than anything. She wants to pretend that she can’t see any difference, or that she’s not affected by this. But she is, and she feels terrible for it. That’s why she spent so much time preparing herself for it. While Janis spent her first night in hospital, she was spending hours researching, calculating the possibility of her hair falling out and coming to the conclusion that the odds were stalked against her. That was the first time she had truly hated math. But Janis’ hair was going to fall out, and so Cady had tried to prepare for it as much as she could; telling herself over and over again that Janis’ looks don’t matter, trying not to spend too long looking at her head. She had even started searching up pictures of cancer patients and looking at them. Not in a creepy way, or at least she had hoped it wasn’t creepy, just to prepare herself for the inevitable.

But as it turns out, nothing could have prepared her for seeing Janis without her hair. The hair she loved running her fingers through and braiding and playing with. The hair that was one of the first things she had noticed about her; a dual-coloured lion’s mane.

She wishes that the first thing she had thought when she saw those photos was ‘I hope Janis is okay’. That she had first thought about her, rather than her own feelings. Rather than what actually happened; her phone almost falling from her hands, her struggling to catch her breath. She wishes and wishes she were perfectly fine with this, and that she and Janis were going on like nothing was happening.

She’s not, and she must be the worst person in the world.

“Hi, Binti,” her mom greets as she steps into the kitchen, her cheeks still cold from outside. She’s at the counter, pan on the stove and veggies being chopped. Or they were. They’ve taken a backseat as her mom looks at her, all wide eyes and downturned mouth. “How’s Janis?”

“She’s fine,” she replies. She pulls her jacket tighter around her as a lump forms in her throat. “You know. Fine as she can be.” The image of Janis crumpling in on herself in the park flashes through her mind and she tenses. As does the image of her poor, hairless head. “She’s okay.”

“Oh, that poor girl,” her mom sighs. Cady nods, her lips tightly closed and her arms crossed over her chest, fingers digging into her jacket. Her mom leaves the dinner aside and approaches her, placing her own hands on her shoulders. Are you okay?”

“Me?” she echoes. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because this is difficult for you,” her mom goes on. You can say that again, she thinks. “And I just think you should be able to talk to us.”

Cady winces at that. She knows her mom is probably thinking about last year; when she kept everything from her, lied to them, became something she wasn’t. If she wasn’t feeling shitty about herself before, she sure as hell is now.

“Well, I’m fine,” she says. “You know, given the circumstances.” She swallows thickly. “I miss her. I miss having her in school and stuff.”

“Oh, I know baby.” Her mom folds her in a tight hug, letting Cady rest her chin on her shoulder. There, in that brief moment of privacy, Cady can feel as much as she needs to. It’s a rush, but it’s a relieving one. “I know how much she means to you. I know it kills you not seeing her.”

Kills her not seeing her. Also kills her seeing her. But she’s not getting into that now. She can’t. The former hurts far more than the latter does, though.

“Hey, what’s for dinner?” Cady asks, blinking her tears away before they get serious. Her mom eyes her, knowing she’s holding something back, but she doesn’t press her.

“Oh, I got this lamb curry recipe from a magazine,” she explains. “Thought I’d give it a shot. Here, tell me what you think…”

She hands Cady a spoon and lets her taste it.

“Oh that’s good, Mom,” she says. “Need any help?”

“Oh, that’d be lovely sweetheart,” her mom chirps. “Well, we’re nearly done, but if you could keep an eye on that rice-”

As they finish up dinner and start serving it out, Cady diverts the subject to work, listening attentively to her mom talking about her latest lecture series, telling her all about the different species of fish in Kenya, reminding her of those times they spent near rivers cataloguing them when she was small. It’s a subject that Cady is genuinely fascinated by; anything involving animals or Kenya is. While most teenagers probably couldn’t care less about the work their parents do, hearing her mom’s stories about teaching at Northwestern or her dad’s latest research excites Cady in a way few other things can. So she gives them her full attention and refuses to let her mind go anywhere else.

She runs up to her room after dinner, hoping she can pick up where she left off. When Janis and Damian showed up, they had actually interrupted her homework. She made an exception for them, obviously, but now it’s back to the grind. She’s done her research on her dream schools and she dares say she could rival her father in that regard, and the grades they’re demanding are tough. Really tough, even with her AP classes. She’s kept on top of everything so far this year, never dipping below a 90 in calculus, but she’s only a month in.

And it’s not just grades that colleges are concerning themselves with. They’re all eager for extra curriculars. At least the Mathletes provide a good basis for that-

“Oh, crap,” she mutters. She opens a drawer and pulls out her Mathlete folder, looking through the schedule she had made for it. She sighs when she sees she’s more or less on top of that too, although she makes a note in her planner to make a start on training the freshman teams for their competition in November.

“Okay,” she says. She pulls her hair into a ponytail and leans back in her chair. She has it all under control, really. Between Mathletes and tutoring, she’s taken on as much as she can right now. She has thought of volunteering behind the scenes in the musical, partly to hang out with Damian, but also because they must need the extra hands, what with Janis being unavailable.

She suddenly sits forward again, hunched over her work. Her cold fingers pick at her nails, tearing pieces off and letting them drop on the carpet. She squirms in the chair, suddenly too restless to sit still. The numbers on the pages and lines in her notes become meaningless to her, her mind overrun with Janis and Janis and cancer and Janis and her hair and Janis.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes tight.

“We’re not doing that,” she whispers.

She shakes her head and pulls her textbook towards her, her breathing getting slower and deeper, her go to tactic to straighten her mind out. She makes a start on the chapter, her eyes going back to the beginning again and again until she can focus properly, pushing her worries to the corner of her mind. Janis always says her art calms her worries, helps her forget the world, and Damian says the same for theatre.

People can say what they like, but math has always been Cady’s art.

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

Going back to the hospital is always going to be tough and Janis has resigned herself to that. Her weeks at home are still far from perfect, but if she’s going to be half-comatose, she can at least do it in her bed with her dog. At least she doesn’t have to wait until the end of the week for her friends to come around. Every time she goes back to the hospital, she’s reminded that this isn’t over, even if another two weeks are behind her. She gets to spend another two weeks with an IV in her arm and watching the people she loves through a phone screen. No matter how nice the staff try to make her stay it’s a reminder of what’s still happening to her.

So yeah, going back to the hospital is hard. But this week, with this recent development, it’s even harder.

She lets her mom hold her bag as they ride up in the elevator, Janis staring straight ahead of her and hoping for it to suddenly break. She used to be terrified of that happening, but this is a new reality and the swiftness with which it moves only makes her more nervous.

It’s not that she’s worried about anyone judging her. Hell, most of the people here would be in a position to do that and the others would be going against their jobs if they did. It’s not ridicule she’s worried about; it’s the opposite. All that unconditional, unwavering, inescapable love and support. She’s never been good with emotions, her style of communication isn’t suited to everyone, and that’s doubled when it comes to hospital stuff. People fawning all over her, asking if she’s okay, wanting every detail of her life. It’s almost even worse than ridicule. At least if they were being intentional assholes she’d have an actual valid reason to dislike it. But no, this is nothing more than her being stupidly awkward about everything.

“You okay?” her mom asks when the elevator comes to a stop. Maybe her wish is coming true, or not, since the floor number is sitting in bright red letters on the wall. Janis nods and releases her teeth’s hold on her cheek.

“Fine,” she says. Her mom nods, disbelief written over her face, and presses the button to open the doors. She steps out and Janis takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and follows her.

The lobby isn’t any more or less busy than it was last time. There’s more staff than patients; doctors and nurses running around in white coats and uniforms carrying forms or pushing carts around, the secretary sipping coffee and typing at twice the average human speed. The rising sun gleams through the open windows on the far side, turning the grey floors dull gold. Just like normal.

Janis pulls her beanie down further over her head and turns in the direction of her room, ready to run practically, when-

“Ah, Janis.”

Fuck.

Doctor Wiley approaches her and her mom, his pace quick and purposeful. His arms even swing in time with his steps, like he’s been choreographed. He comes over and shakes her mom’s hand, the exchange awkward with the two bags she’s holding, and hers as well. There’s a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, nor does it hold its usual irrepressible cheer.

“I thought you two would be arriving around now.”

“How’d you even recognise me?” she asks. “I got a bit of a haircut.” It’s kind of a mean question, but her filter doesn’t work at this hour and she could use a little enjoyment. He laughs at it though, so it can’t be too bad.

“Funny. But those boots are indistinguishable,” he tells her. She huffs a laugh at that but it’s gone in an instant and they fall into a tight, uncomfortable silence. Janis stuffs her hands in her pockets and shifts from one foot to the other, looking over at her mom in the childish belief that she’ll know what to do. She’s just as helpless as Janis is, Dr Wiley having trapped them both without intending to. She hears doors opening down the hall and sneaks a look up at the clock. Patients are waking up around now, meaning the amount of people in this lobby is going to double. She has half a mind to directly ask what he wants before he opens his mouth, saving them both an awkward exchange.

“Why don’t we talk in Janis’ room?” he asks. “Just want to see how your week’s gone.”

So they go down, and Janis takes a seat on her bed and lets her mom drop her bag down below her feet. Her stomach twists uneasily throughout it all and a nervous sweat makes its way down her back as the doctor finally enters and, as usual, shuts the door behind him.

“So,” he begins.

“My hair’s gone,” she says. The words escape her mouth before she can stop herself and her surprise at herself is the same as her mom’s. She only shrugs at her and swings her feet in the air. Pretending to be casual seems easier than trying to be serious. “That’s the biggest development.”

“Yes,” Wiley says thinly. He straightens up, his eyes avoiding Janis, and for the first time she’s struck with the idea that this is probably no picnic for him too, no matter how many people he’s had to do this for. “How did that happen? Did you shave it yourself?”

“Yes, she did,” her mom answers. She takes her hand and rubs her thumb across the back of it. Janis squeezes it back, giving her a smile.

“Did you help her with it?”

“No.” There’s a hint of laughter in her mom’s voice. Not mocking though. She almost sounds proud. Proud of her? For what? “When I say herself, I mean she did it herself. Alex and I got a bit of a surprise.”

“As did our dog,” Janis adds. “He’s used to being the only one shedding in the house.”

“I’m sure you all did,” Wiley says. He pulls over one of the chairs and sits close to her, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “You probably don’t need me to tell you this, but this is one of the most difficult parts of this process for so many people.” She nods stiffly. “And you probably also know, there are several support systems in place.” She nods again; she could probably recite those support systems from memory. “It may be good to talk about this with people who understand what it’s like.”

“Like other patients?” she asks. She remembers one thing she was told about: a group therapy session with the other kids on the ward. She had struggled to completely dismiss it already and now, after a week of staring at her bald head in the mirror, she worries she might be cracking.

“Maybe. Or some one-on-one counselling,” Wiley explains. “You’ll have met the people to talk to about that. I’m just strictly here for the medical side of things.”

“Typical medical school student,” Janis responds flatly. “Cold and emotionless robot.”

“That’s me,” he replies. “So, how was this week, physically? Any nausea, aches, pains?”

“Um, something like that,” Janis says. “Just you know, felt sick. Uh, I couldn’t eat much some days. Legs hurt. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Well,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “That’s all fine and normal.”

Janis hums. She’s at a point where feeling sick is normal. Great.

They finish up soon, going over her week and Wiley telling her that he’ll schedule another appointment for her to check up on her weight and her other vitals. She tries not to tense at that. It’s not like her weight is an insecurity of hers, but she’s not thrilled at the idea of weighing herself either.

“Hey, Jan, I’m just going to go have a quick word with Doctor Wiley,” her mom says suddenly, just as he’s opening the door. “You know, adult stuff.”

“Mom, you know where my mind goes when you say, ‘adult stuff’,” she replies.

“You going to be okay here on your own?” she asks, like Janis hadn’t said anything. At her side, Janis’ hand curls into a fist. She’d bet all the money she has that she’s going to tell Doctor Wiley about her little fainting spell in the park. If she had it her way, she’d tell her not to, insist it wasn’t that bad like she did that night. But she can’t have it her way and if it’ll give her mom some peace of mind, fine. Besides, maybe telling her doctor isn’t the worst plan in the world.

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” she says with a resigned sigh.  “I’m going to go hang out in the longue anyway.”

“Okay, kid. I’ll meet you back here.”

She’s barely down the hall when she regrets her decision. Her hands stuffed in her pockets, she turns and looks back at the door, tightly shit, a solid barrier shutting her away from the conversation that is about her. She won’t press it, but she’s annoyed by it. Being whispered about behind your back is never fun, no matter what the subject matter is.

But there’s nothing she can do about it now unless she wants to make a scene, and she can’t hover in the corridor forever, so she turns and marches down the hall, keeping her eyes on the ground and only looking up to smile at nurses. A couple of the one’s she’s familiar with pass her and they kindly avoid the subject of her hair loss, instead cheerily bidding her good morning.

The longue is actually empty when she gets in. The hands on the clock aren’t even at eight yet, so she guesses everyone else is still asleep, or in early morning treatments.

She crosses over to the so-called ‘art shelf’, wrestles out a drawing pad and picks up a Halloween bucket full of pencils. They’re not as good as her own tools, but they’re all safe in her bag in her room, so she’ll make do rather than interrupt. She settles herself in the chair, her feet dangling over the edge and the paper resting on her legs.

It’s actually pretty calming in here alone. Not like it’s overly chaotic normally, it’s always kind of mellow, but it’s quite easy for her to lose herself now. The weak autumn sun is higher now, the leaves on a tree outside creating patterns on the carpets and the voices behind her are a peaceful, quiet kind of backing track for her to draw against. Her pencil moves gracefully across the page and forms the shapes she sees in her mind. She’s had this idea for a few days but never really had the motivation to draw it. It must have been longer than she thought, going without drawing properly. The pencil feels weak and she has to take a moment to give her hand a little shake out at points to get herself back. But she’s missed this, missed the freedom that art gives her. Freedom to create, to escape to her own worlds. Every time, even when everyone and everything failed her, she’s had her art to fall back on.

She’s more emotional than she should be as she sees it hasn’t failed her yet.

Even with the imperfect pencils, she carries on, going over the line she’s created. The outline of her IV is covered in black, the lines thicker than she’d wanted initially with the blunt pencil. Ideally, she’d go over them in fine pen, but the thick lines actually kind of work. Ivy wraps around the pole, coloured in a deep green with little red thorns jagging out from it and piercing the medicine bag. The details are smudged and undefined, these pencils weren’t made for this, but the fully formed drawing is taking shape in front of her and that’s what matters to her.

Besides, she can perfect it later.

She’s not aware of how much time has gone by until she hears footsteps behind her, followed by a familiar squeak. Maddie is hovering in the doorway, a nurse behind her holding her IV, and the clock showing that well over half an hour has passed with her drawing.

“Hey kid,” she greets, pushing herself up and tucking her legs beneath her, more for the nurse’s benefit than Maddie’s.

“Janis! You’re back!” she states as she runs over and plops herself down in the armchair beside her. Her eyes move up to Janis’ head, a question dancing in them but her lips staying silent.

“Hi sweetheart,” her nurse asks. Janis hasn’t seen her around before, or if she has she’s not been around much. Maybe a student, she guesses, going by how young she is and how intensely she’s focussed on the IV. “This your friend, Maddie?”

“Yup,” she answers. “Is it cool if I do my drip in here? And if I turn on the TV?”

“Go ahead, kid,” she says, flipping over the page. Maddie leans over the arm of her chair with wide eyes and Janis chuckles warmly before turning the page around for her. “What do we think?”

“Woah,” she breathes. “That’s so good!”

“Any critiques? Bad colouring? Bad use of space? Awkward shading?”

“Nope, nope and nope,” Maddie insists. “It’s perfect. Look, Maia, isn’t it?”

“Oh hey,” Maia adds, looking at it for a split second before re-focussing. “That’s cool. So you’re an artist.”

“I dabble,” she sighs, twirling the pencil between her fingers and turning the page over.

“So I take it you’re doing that photo project that Maddie’s doing?” she asks.

There it is again. Out of everything she’s heard about in here, that’s the one that’s come up the most and it’s the one that’s stood in her mind the most. Maybe because, well, it is kind of up her street. And since it is… well, why not?

“Yeah, I am,” she says. It feels odd, committing to something like this. But hey, it could be fun.

“It’s meant to be really good,” Maia goes on as she pulls out an IV. “You two probably know all about it, but it’s some fancy art college that’s providing the materials for it. And a professor from there’s overseeing it.”

Janis averts her eyes when Maddie rolls up her sleeves, though she can’t ignore the other girl’s small grunt as the needle goes in. There’s already a little bruise on her own arm. And Maddie’s been here two, three times as long as she has.

“Okay, that’s you set up for an hour and a half,” Maia announces. “I’ll be back in half an hour to check up on you, okay? And here’s your juice and your breakfast.”

“Thanks. See you later, Maia,” Maddie says, her voice the same as it would be if she was leaving to go to school. Maia pats Maddie’s head and tells Janis how nice it was to meet her before heading off, Maddie’s eyes following her in a way Janis knows all too well. Poor girl.

“What?” she asks when she hears Janis’ chuckle.

“Oh, nothing,” she sings. “You just seem awfully fond of Maia.” The way her little cheeks flame pink tell her all she needs to know. Nothing will come of this, of course, it’s a puppy infatuation, but that doesn’t make it any less cute. Janis remembers her first crush of that sort. Remembers how she, just as Maddie is now, vehemently denied it to anyone who asked. “Don’t worry kid. I won’t tell.”

“Okay,” she says quietly as she flicks on the TV. She looks down at the remote and lets out a pained sigh. “She’s just so pretty.”

“I know kid,” Janis replies. “I know the struggle.” They sit in companionable silence, Maddie focussing on the daytime TV and Janis doodling whatever comes to mind across the page, dragons, mermaids, flowers, puppies. It’s random nonsense, but it’s the artistic equivalent of going on a jog, she supposes.

As she draws, she keeps sneaking glances over at Maddie. A lot of things struck her when they first met, and one she’s sad to say was the lack of hair. Not that there’s nothing beyond that, but she noticed it first and it stuck. And despite all her wishes and hopes, it happened to her too.

“Hey, Maddie?” Her throat feels like sandpaper. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

She clenches the pencil so tightly in her hand that her knuckles turn white.

“When did you lose your hair?”

“Oh.” Janis winces immediately.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to-”

“No, it’s okay,” she says. She turns around to face her, her fingers fidgeting in front of her and her eyes looking at her only to look away immediately. “It was a month ago. Kind of. It started coming out pretty early.”

“In clumps, right?” she asks.

“Yeah. Big, scary clumps. I thought they looked like spiders.” Janis chuckles out of courtesy, but there’s no humour in it. “I wouldn’t shave it though. Everyone told me I had to but… I just couldn’t, you know.” She hears her swallow before she adds “I was too scared.”

Janis nods. She tries to picture it, this little kid scared shitless being told to shave her head. With nothing and no-one to save her. She doesn’t want to cry, knowing how she’d feel if she were in that position, but it gets her. She wishes she could wrap that girl in a hug and tell her she was okay.

“I gave in eventually,” she says. “So much of it was gone anyway. At that point I just wanted it over with.”

“That’s how I felt,” Janis adds. “Like… it was either it or me.”

“Did your mom or dad help you?” Maddie asks.

“No. I didn’t really tell them I was doing it.” She shrugs. “I didn’t plan it. Just sort of happened, I guess.”

“Woah.” Maddie’s hand rubs the back of her neck, a sorrowful expression on her face. “It feels weird doesn’t it?”

“Weird is an understatement,” Janis mumbles. As they sit in companionable silence, Janis doesn’t take her eyes off Maddie. Soon she gets up and pushes her chair closer until it’s touching hers. She brightens at that and curls up even more.

“People keep asking me if I miss my hair,” she tells her after a while. “I don’t answer them. It’s a stupid question.” She rolls her eyes, but there’s more to it. Far more than she should be. “Of course I do.”

“Yeah. I paid 50 for that dye job,” Janis says.

“I can’t wait to look normal again,” Maddie says.

Janis starts at that. It’s a horrible thing to have to say, or for someone to think, but the worst part is she can’t disagree with it. She doesn’t know if she’ll feel completely okay until her hair starts growing back. Her first impulse is to say, “me too”. Or the less tactful “mood”. But she pushes it away because that’s not what Maddie needs to hear. While she’s a disaster, she’s not bringing this girl down with her.

So what does she do? She can’t fall back on her own tricks. That may well only make it worse. So she does the only thing she can, ask herself ‘What Would Damian Do In This Scenario’. He’d make her feel better without sugar coating the reality. So she’ll do that. Be Damian for Maddie.

“Well… that may be true,” she begins. “And it royally sucks ass.” She’s not good at this. “But… just think of how happy we’ll be when that finally happens.” Really, really not good at this. God how does he do this all the time? Especially with her.

It quickly occurs to her that this little trick is so much easier when she’s trying to pick herself up. Picking other people up is harder. It’s mainly why she rarely does it. It also occurs to her that she doesn’t know what Damian would say if he were her. Thank God, he’s never been through this. So she can’t know what he’d say. All she can do is reach inside herself and try to pull out something to help the both of them.

“And you know, at least we’re all normal in here.”

She sees realisation dawn on Maddie’s face and lets out a breath.

“I guess there is no normal in here,” Maddie adds, but it’s without the defeated tone. The opposite in fact. She the smile on her face is relieved and most importantly, real. Janis is relieved as well, and the feeling floods her chest, but there’s something else in there, something kind of unfamiliar and pretty exciting.

Maybe she’s actually quite good at this.

                                                                                                      ******

Days later, Janis is lounging in her bed, half-waking up from a spontaneous nap. She props her head up on her elbow and scrolls through Twitter, Purrlock sitting on her shoulder. She told her mom that she just woke up like that and she’s too comfortable to move him. And maybe because he wanted a good view of her phone.

She avoids Instagram like it’s the plague. Her hairless selfie is by far the most popular photo on her page, which annoys her in more ways than one. She didn’t even put hashtags on it, and yet it’s gotten more likes and comments than artwork that she put hours of work into. And selfies where she actually looks good. She has half a mind to respond to the supportive-pitying comments saying “thanks, check out my art and tell your friends I will be available for commission soon”. She only hasn’t because she can’t help but feel like using her cancer for clout is low even by her standards.

Regina is amongst those who left a comment.  According to her she ‘looks like a boss’, and Janis has since spent hours of her time looking for the catch. There always is one with her but she’s now hidden it extremely well. Janis is determined to find it, like a pirate looking for a weird kind of treasure. People can call her paranoid all they want, but she knows better. She knows Regina better than probably anyone at that whole school.

Those are just some of the reasons she avoids Instagram, as well as Facebook. At least on Tumblr, the vast majority of her followers have no idea who she is. To them she’s just an art blog, and that’s why she can’t find it in her to delete that app. Plus, there’s something about the humour that’s comforting.

She’s halfway reading one of those tag yourself games when she gets a text. She wants to dismiss it, too tired for any kind if interaction, but the name on it makes her do a double take.

“Hi! How are you doing? Would it be okay if I came over some time? I haven’t really seen you in forever. I’d really like to. Just let me know if you want to and when you can-Gretchen.”

Gretchen. Gretchen Weiners. First Karen popping in to visit and now Gretchen? She’s collected two out of three Plastics. And hell, given that Regina popped round to her house a while back, she’s kind of gotten them all.

Gretchen is a complicated case for her. She sits right in between Karen and Regina in the Plastics for her. She’s not stupid like Karen. She had to know that what Regina was doing to her was wrong. But while she had the brains to know it, she didn’t have the backbone and Janis can’t not understand with that. But she can’t just forgive and forget either, not completely. And while they have found themselves actually getting along pretty well since Spring Fling, some days Janis can’t shake the feeling that it’s entirely contingent on Regina. That if Regina turns, Gretchen is right there with her. Besides, she always saw their friendship as more surface level than anything else. It was fine by her; they just wouldn’t have any spark together without a third party there.

So Gretchen texting her like this is unexpected to say the least. Especially offering to come over. Alone, it would seem.

Her mind is going through every possible bad outcome, meanwhile her fingers are typing out a response that reads ‘Hey. I’m not exactly going anywhere but Cady and Damian come over on Fridays, so that might be out. I’m also pretty out of it on Monday. But hey any other day you want to come over, that’s cool.’

She has the self-control to pause and read it over again she sends it. As far as she can tell there’s nothing completely wrong with it. Heck she even went out of her way to warn her about when her worst day is. Although as she reads it a third time, that sentence suddenly seems way too open for Gretchen, so she quickly changes it to ‘pretty busy’.

She presses send that time and watches as her message becomes a small blue bubble. So she just committed to hanging out with Gretchen Weiners. In her hospital room. Gretchen responds asking about Saturday, and while she considers backing out, she agrees. Gretchen responds with some heart emojis and that she can’t wait to see her. It’s a sweet message and it makes Janis’ stomach turn.

“What the heck have I done?” she asks out loud.

                                                                                               *****

She mentions it to Cady and Damian when they come around on Friday. She has to since it’s pretty much the only piece of news she has other than “they got new vending machines”. They both think it’s a great idea, which does make Janis feel better about the whole thing. Especially Cady. The way her whole face lights up when she tells her actually makes it feel worth it, whatever the outcome is.  

That’s what she tells herself on Saturday morning when she gets up. She wriggles out of bed and checks the clock on her phone. Half an hour before her first round is due. She doesn’t feel like breakfast, nor does she feel like getting out of her pyjamas. She guesses Gretchen will understand that much anyway. Even she can’t expect Janis to look perfect given the circumstances. But that bring up another problem, one she had stupidly not considered up until right now, when she catches sight of herself in the mirror.

Gretchen hasn’t seen her like this.

Well, she has. The whole school has, that’s kind of the point. But she hasn’t seen her like this. Not in the same way Damian and Cady have, face-to-face, where she’ll try to avert her eyes from it and make polite conversation. Even with her cute little beanie, it’s likely to be a tough one. And given that it’s Gretchen, it might be ten times worse. Not her fault, and Janis can’t say she wouldn’t do the same if she was in her position, but that doesn’t make it any less exasperating for her. Suddenly the one thing she wants to do is text Gretchen and back out, but her stupid pride holds her back. Digging a bigger hole is a risk she doesn’t want to take. All she can do is wait and hope that either a) Gretchen backs out, b) there’s a terrible medical emergency pertaining to her and Gretchen can’t come over, or c) it’s at least over quickly.

Options A and B sadly don’t happen. For once her body seems to be working semi-well and right on schedule he gets a text from Gretchen saying that she’s in the lobby. Her mom took that as her cue to leave and go hang out with the other cancer moms, reminding her to call her if she needs her. And since her mom will definitely not lie about a medical emergency for her, all she can do is sit with the consequences of her own actions. And debate throwing herself out the window, which she shuts down fairly quickly. She doesn’t want to put the nurses through that.

She pretends to be reading when Gretchen comes in, softly knocking on the door. She looks nice; her hair is in some half-up, half-down thing she could never master even if she needed to and she wears a bright yellow top tucked into a blue skirt. Between the block colours and the smile on her face, Janis realises how much she could fit in here. Give her a lanyard and put her in the longue and the volunteers would take her in immediately.

“Hi, Janis,” she greets.

“Hey Gretch.” She puts down her magazine and swings her legs over the side of the bed, nodding at her. “Come on in. Welcome to Casa Janis. Hey, can you close the door?”

“Oh sure.” She comes over but sits down in the visitor’s chair rather than on the bed. Janis can’t decide if that’s better or worse. She’s already small, especially when compared to Janis, but she looks impossibly tiny now. Janis can’t even enjoy not feeling like the smallest person in the room for once. “So how are you doing?”

“Oh you know,” she shrugs. “Powering through it all.” A soft, sympathetic look creases Gretchen’s face. “I’m doing good, Gretch. How are you doing?”

“Oh me?” she asks. “Uh, I’m pretty good. I mean, school’s okay so far. I mean… I’m on the committee for planning the Halloween fair this year.”

“You are? That’s cool.” She could never picture Gretchen on the committee for anything, but now that she thinks about it, she does have a keen eye for detail. Not to mention she knows how to plan an event, although those skills weren’t forged in the best circumstances. “So what are you guys doing?”

“Oh.” Her tone is so casual compared to the excited glint in her eyes and the way her mouth turns up at the corners. She knows a suppressed smile when she sees one. “Um, your basic Halloween stuff. You know, uh apple bobbing. Scary stories. The same thing they do every year.”

“Uh-huh.” Gretchen opens her mouth, the beginning of her own question just coming out, but Janis holds her hand out to her, nodding to the empty space beside her. “Come on. You know I love that Halloween fair. And if I have to miss it, you need to give me every little detail of it.”

“Oh,” is all she responds with.

“Come on,” she says after she hesitates. “I need to make sure it’s all up to standard. I’m very protective of that fair.”

“Okay,” she says. She scrambles up beside her, her feet even farther from the floor. “Oh wow, this is comfortable.”

“Yeah, they take good care of us in here.” She nudges her with her bony elbow. “So come on. The fair, what have you guys got planned?”

“Well…” She begins. “We got Drama and English to collaborate on the scary stories this year. It’s actually pretty cool, they collected all these folktales from different cultures. And they wanted to do some classic horror stuff as well. So some of the sophomore drama kids are acting them out.” She counts them out on her fingers. “We’ve got one group doing Dracula, one doing Jekyll and Hyde and one doing Frankenstein. Oh, Damian’s helping direct them and he agreed to read out a few stories. He’s really good at it.”

“He would be,” she says.

“Okay so we have that in one corner, then we have the apple bobbing beside that. Then we got a lot of stalls lined up after it. Some of them are doing arts and crafts stuff, I don’t really know the specifics, then we’ve got another one selling treats and baked goods and stuff. I just let them handle that. Oh!” She grabs her arm only to drop it in the next second, but her smile stays bright on her face. “So then there’s the haunted house! We actually looked at a lot of the old ones, like the one you worked on!”

“Well, I am an artiste.”

“I know,” she says softly. “So what we did is we-well, I say we, I mean the art students. Not me, I couldn’t do that. But they took it and they ran with the literature theme. So we’ve got everyone in these really cool old vintage outfits looking like ghosts walking around the halls. And they’re letting us use a smoke machine!”

“I never got a smoke machine!” she interrupts indignantly. “How come you guys get to use it?”

“I planned out the budget,” Gretchen explains. “Cady helped me with the numbers a bit. I worked out that if we shopped at thrift stores and stuff for costumes and got the school more involved, we had more money for effects! Plus they gave us a bit more because it’s a good cause.”

She freezes the minute the words leave her mouth, regret all over her face. Janis doesn’t get it for a while and she can’t say if the chemo has made her brain lag or if she’s just that out of the loop. But quickly gets a suspicion.

“Good cause?”

“Um, yeah.” Gretchen fixes her hair, sliding pins further in and twirling the end around her fingers. Her feet swing farther and faster below them. “Um, the committee agreed pretty early that we should um… we should use it raise money for cancer research.” She shrugs weakly. “We just thought it would have been nice to do.”

“Yeah.” She clears her throat. She might not have an IV in her arm, nor is she knocked out, but she feels acutely aware of her cancer. Even without looking at herself. She can feel the way her blood is abnormal, feel the medicine slithering through her veins. The lost weight on her arms, the lack of weight on her head.

She’s a charity case now. Events she can’t even go to are planned around her.

“Janis?” Gretchen asks, her voice so quiet it’s practically a whisper. “Are you okay?” Before she can answer, Gretchen lets out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure if I should tell you or not. Damian was worried how you’d react to it.”

“Gretchen. It’s okay.” She shakes her head. “I’m actually kind of touched.” It’s the truth, despite how weak it makes her feel. So many people backing her up, it’s hard not to like it. She just wishes this didn’t have to happen for her to feel it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she replies. “And they think they might make it like that every year. Like every year they pick a new cause to donate to.”

“That’s awesome, Gretch.” They sit in comfortable, light silence for a while until Janis finds something. “So how’s everyone else? How’s Karen.”

And that’s when Gretchen’s cheeks turn bright pink, and it’s the most entertaining thing Janis has seen in a long while. Cady’s filled her in on Gretchen and Karen, how pretty much everyone knows about them and they’re none the wiser. Cady said that they might just still be friends, but Damian shook his head. According to him anyone who spends even five minutes in their company can see it. So she has two different hypothesis and she’s just testing them out.

“Um, Karen’s great,” she says. “Really great. Didn’t she come see you a few weeks ago?” She doesn’t mention how Janis puked her guts out that day; either Karen didn’t tell her or she’s being delicate. Either way is more than good with her.

“Yep. She brought muffins. They were really good.”

“Oh, yeah she’s really good at baking now.” The glowing pride on her face could be seen from space.

“It was real sweet of her,” she says fondly. Despite how badly that day ended, she’s glad it happened. “Hey, I saw you two were at her house last weekend.” Gretchen’s cheeks turn even pinker and Janis almost feels bad. “Anything special?”

“Oh yeah, that was nothing. We um, we just went and watched movies in her house. Had a pyjama day, you know.” Gretchen toys with a bracelet on her wrist; a silver chain with a baby pink gemstone in the shape of a heart. Her face is a familiar kind of soft, and Janis realises it’s the kind of soft that she gets when she thinks about Cady. They’re either together or someone has a serious, serious crush. “Karen’s really good. We’re really good.” Then she looks up at Janis and her eyes are brighter than Broadway marquees.

“We’re actually dating now!” she says.

“No!” she gasps. She doesn’t have a B in drama for nothing. “Since when?”

“Just since August,” she replies. “We actually just had our two month anniversary just then.”

“Aww.”

“Yeah. We went got sundaes and went to the movies. It was super romantic.” There’s even a hint of a giggle in Gretchen’s voice. The bloom of first love and all that.

“It sounds it.”

“Does it?” she asks. “Sorry. I just don’t know romance very well. I mean, we’re not you and Cady.”

“Me and Cady?” Janis echoes.

“Well, yeah. I mean you two are kind of the it couple when it comes to romance.”

“Really?” she asks proudly. “We never really thought about it like that.”

“You two just seem so… happy with each other,” she says. “Not that me and Karen aren’t happy, we totally are. I just hope we stay that way. That we have a relationship like you and Cady.”

“Woah there.” She holds up her hand to stop Gretchen in her tracks. “Me and Cady are far from perfect. Especially now.” She presses her fist into her palm, chewing the inside of her cheek, unsure what version of events she should give. “I mean… I almost didn’t even tell her I had cancer.” Gretchen’s mouth falls open a little at that. “No relationship is perfect, Gretch. Don’t try to model me and Caddy. You and Karen do you and Karen.”

“Do Me and Karen,” she repeats softly.

“Yeah. You know, move at your own pace. Be happy with each other.” Gretchen nods, her mouth moving like she’s making mental notes.

“Thanks, Janis.”

“Well, not to brag, but Cady and I have been together for seven whole months.” Half a year, she realises. Half a year she’s been with Cady. They never celebrated little anniversaries like Karen and Gretchen, but six months was just a month ago. And neither one realised. “So I’m a bit of an expert.”

“Yeah you are,” Gretchen chuckles.

Gretchen has to leave a little while later and Janis even has the manners (and energy) to walk her to the elevator. She gives her a quick hug before she leaves and though Janis braces herself, it’s nowhere near as awkward as she thought it would be. In fact, while she might be little, she packs a lot into it.

“I’ll see you soon,” she tells her. “Is that cool with you?”

“My hospital room is your hospital room,” she says warmly. Gretchen gives her another smile, one that’s bright and sincere, before disappearing into the lift. The last thing Janis sees of her is a little tiny wave.

Her mom is back in the room when she gets there, straightening up her sheets, and a fresh looking donut sits on her tray table. Rainbow sprinkles and white icing, just as she likes them.

“How’s Gretchen?” she asks.

“She’s good.” She climbs onto the bed and picks up her book. She must have been smiling or something because her mom then asks what the face is for. She hesitates, but she’d almost certainly tell her mom this if they were at home and besides, she can’t keep it to herself. “Well, Karen and Gretchen are sort of….” She wiggles her eyebrows. “You know.”

“Oh they aren’t,” her mom says. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” She leans forward and tears off a part of the donut.

“Did not expect that.” Janis simply shrugs. She’s not going to sit and act like she ‘always knew’ but at the same time, she’s not entirely surprised. If nothing else, they did always think they’d be a cute fit. “Well, good for them.”

“Yeah,” she replies, tearing the donut again. “Good for them. You want a bit?”

“Oh I’m fine, hon.” Janis frowns. It’s more than just a treat and she knows it.

“Gretchen was talking about the Halloween fair,” she goes on. “She’s on the committee for organising it this year. Apparently it’s going to be quite the affair.”

Apparently, she just can’t hide anything today because her mom rubs her back and groans in sympathy with her.

“I’m sorry kid. I know how much you love going to that fair.”

“Well there’s always next year.” She keeps quiet about the money being raised though. No doubt her mom would love that, but still. Some things she just doesn’t want to talk about. She’s about to change the subject when her mom opens her mouth again, and nothing can prepare her for what she says. “And well, who knows? Maybe here we can work something out and allow you to go.”

“Wait, for real?” Janis asks. Hope sparks up in her chest and she immediately tries to dampen it down.

“Well, maybe,” her mom says. “I was just talking to Dr Wiley and he did say you don’t have to be in the hospital 24/7. Obviously we don’t want a repeat of Saturday-”

“Okay, why didn’t this conversation come up weeks ago when I was climbing the walls?” she asks, although she isn’t mad. She can’t be.

“Because you were just starting out,” she explains. “And you still kind of are. But he did say being out in the fresh air might do you some good. I’d have my reservations about it-”

“Oh please, please do not have any reservations,” she says. Hell, she practically begs. She does everything but grab her mom’s legs.

“But if you felt up to it on the day, and Dr Wiley didn’t see a problem with it, then I don’t see why you couldn’t go around the fair for an hour, maybe.”

An inhuman noise escapes her mouth, something akin to a shriek, but the kind middle school girls use when they hear about their favourite boyband coming to town.

“As long as you don’t overwork yourself.”

“Mom, I will do nothing but eat my veggies and sleep until the fair,” she promises.

“Okay,” her mom chuckles, running her fingers over her knuckles. “What time’s your next round?”

“Oh um, an hour,” she says. They go about their own business. Well, her mom does anyway, picking up her magazine and showing Janis the parts she’d like. Janis opens up her laptop and whacks on something to keep herself entertained, but the idea of going to the fair blocks out anything else.

Going to the Halloween fair. Being with all her friends. Seeing people from school. It almost doesn’t feel real. Scratch that, it definitely doesn’t feel real. And amongst that surreal feeling is worry. Worry that something will come up, someone will say no, and she’ll have to watch the fair through her Instagram feed. It’s the main reason she doesn’t go rushing to Damian with the news. Because what if the moment she does, Dr Wiley pops his head around the door and tells her she can never leave here, ever?

Breathe, she tells herself. Her plans are in the universe’s hands. All she can do is sit back, cross her fingers, and pray no-one says no.

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Farmer’s Daughter. 2

Warnings: Cursing probably. Smut. 

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: HELLO AGAIN. Listened to ‘Home’ by Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros while I wrote this lmao.(Okay I listened to it like three times in the span of the three hours it took me to write this) You should all listen to it, gave me young Arthur x reader vibes tbh, it’s super cute and happy. RIGHT OK so I hope you guys like this one as much as you enjoyed the first one, didn’t plan this to be more than a one-shot but more than one person wanted it to be so here I am. Hope the smut didn’t feel too rushed! I was going to do a few time skips but this just felt right to me. Thanks so much for your notes, comments, and reblogs, they mean the world to me.

It had been a week without any sign from Arthur, and on the seventh day you had almost given up hope. But he showed up right when you were about to fall asleep, knocking over a vase on your table when he climbed through the window it sat in front of.

You sat up in bed and pulled the sheets over you, frozen solid in fear for a good ten seconds before your eyes adjusted to the light and you made out Arthur picking up the vase from the floor. 

“You scared the daylights out of me.” You whispered as you calmed down from the near heart attack.

“Your doors were locked, so I uh, knocked on the window. You didn’t wake up and, well, here I am.” He sounded slightly embarrassed, taking his jacket off to put on the floor. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to do that, a little water is okay.” You said as you climbed to the foot of the bed, but his jacket had already soaked up the spilled liquid. 

“Exactly. I’ve got other coats. At least it ain’t leather.” You both laughed a little at that and then you lit your bedside candle. 

“Close the curtains, will you?”

He looked over his shoulder and realized he’d not only left the window open, but he gave a good view to anyone who looked up at the balcony. He quickly did as you asked, closing the window too. “You draw anything while I was gone?” He asked as he walked back over and sat in the chair at your table. 

Another reason he was such a good man, he sat a respectable distance away from you when there was a whole bed he could have taken advantage of. 

Which damn, you wished he would. 

If there was anyone in the world who was sexually frustrated, it was a tie between you and Arthur. You had sex only once in your life, and it wasn’t even good. You had many other opportunities with pretty attractive people, but your family was almost constantly on you so you had no time to sneak away. And for Arthur, well, it’s self explanatory. 

“A few things.” You admitted and crawled back to the head of your bed and pulled out the drawer of your nightstand. Your brand new sketch pad laid in there, your father had bought it for you a few days before since you had already filled up your last one. 

“Really? Well, I’d love to see them.” He hated how vulnerable he felt then. Snuck into some girls room, knowing damn well he was a fool for being there. He fawned over you a little too much for his liking, last time he had butterflies over a girl he was very, very, very young. But that was the last thing on his mind for once. All he cared about now was the farmers daughter in her silk night-dress with the sketch book in her hands. 

You opened to the first page where a simple sketch of a cat waited to be praised. “This is my cat Scully.” 

Arthur got up from his seat and walked over to where you sat on the edge of the bed, squatting down at your knees so he could see properly. “Well, look at that.” He grinned and you handed the book over to him, which he gladly took. “How’d they get that?” He pointed to the right ear which was missing the top half. 

You leaned over to look at what his finger pointed to and sighed. “One day when I was real young, I was playing outside and the neighbor's dog came over, guess he didn’t like how I smelt so he started growling at me. Scully, she saw me crying and came over, kicked its ass then chased it off.” You laughed when you remembered how your parents treated the cat afterward, taking her to the most expensive vet they could find. She was queen of the house from then on out. 

Arthur snorted, his head bobbing slightly as he did so. “That so? She’s braver than any man I’ve ever met.”

You smiled and nodded in agreement. “You can go through them, there's only two more in there.” Your heart sped up in excitement when you remembered the last picture was something you’d done for him, a silhouette of him standing on your balcony overlooking your farm land. 

He turned the page slow as to not wrinkle the expensive paper. When he saw the next one he raised his brows. “Christ, girl. You need to be selling these.” 

The one he was looking at was a more detailed sketch, one you had done the day before. You still needed to do a little more shading on it, but it was mostly done. It was your parents sitting outside at the bench in your garden, they were both laughing and holding wine glasses. Your father had told your mother something funny and she was almost doubled over, one hand in front of her mouth and the other holding the glass outwards so she didn’t spill any on herself. They were surrounded by their roses and jasmine. 

“How do you remember something like this?”

You shrugged with the biggest smile on your face and a blush in your cheeks. “Something like that just sticks.” 

He looked up to you and shook his head before looking back down. “You’ve got me speechless.” He flipped to the next page and completely froze. He didn’t say anything for a minute, which worried you, but then he just let out a huff-like laugh of disbelief. “This me?” He knew it was him but for some reason he felt like he had to ask, just to hear you say it.

“Yes, it’s not weird, is it?” You asked while you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. 

Arthur scoffed and stood up before sitting down on your bed next to you, his eyes on the paper the whole time. “I’ve never seen myself the way you draw me. Even though this is just my damn figure.”His words really hit you. You knew what he meant by it and although you wanted him to explain it himself you knew it was something he wouldn’t go into detail about. He probably didn’t even mean to say it, it was most likely a slip of his tongue. 

After what seemed like several minutes he closed the book and handed it back to you. “No, this is for you.” You opened the book back open and cleanly tore the page out, handing it to the man sitting next to you. 

“I appreciate it. I really do.” He said and walked over to the table, setting it down on top of his satchel. His hand lingered there momentarily, considering taking out his own journal and giving you the paper he had spent days perfecting. Anxiety gnawed at him and he pulled his hand away, turning back to you. “Sorry I didn’t come back earlier, by the way. Got caught up in some business and ended up in Valentine for a while.”

“No, don’t apologize.” You waved him off. “You didn’t even have to come back, we barely even know each other. You got what you came for the first time anyways, you could have taken my hundred dollar drawing and sold it to make yourself a rich man.”

He laughed and sat down at the foot of your bed, making sure to keep a proper distance from you so he wouldn’t scare you off. If only he knew you wanted the complete opposite. “Now, a hundred-dollars isn’t very rich, why do that when I could keep coming back and get more? That would be one hell of a business.”

Where on this cold earth did this man come from? How were you so lucky to know such a good person? Given, you had only seen him two times, but he had still made a name for himself. He had a good sense of humor, he was polite, and goddamn he praised your art like it was god. If there was one sure way to your heart it was through that. And not to mention he was incredibly attractive. Fit as could be, well-groomed yet he had this dangerous look about him that said he could put you down in two seconds flat if you tried him. 

You wished he would.

In an attempt to clear the dirty thoughts that had flood your head you brought up a new subject. “The last time you were here you said my drawing was better than yours, you never answered me when I asked if you drew too.” You said and tried to look casual as you watched him for a reaction. 

He cleared his throat and looked away from your gaze, his eyes landing on everything in the room besides you. “I said that? Of course I would. That sounds like something I’d say.” He laughed to try to chase his anxiety off. “Sure, I do. A little bit.”

“Do you have anything you could show me?” You asked and pulled your legs back up onto the bed, making yourself comfortable as you continued watching him. It was hard not to, every single thing he did was mesmerizing.

He scratched his chin and sighed. “Yeah, I do.” He reluctantly grabbed his satchel from the table and pulled his own journal from it. “They’re not the best, but, well, look for yourself. There’s some writin’ in there too, pay no mind to that.” He handed you the worn leather book and you flipped through it. It was mostly full of wildlife, plants and scenery. 

“These are really good. This wolf looks like a photograph.” You said as you went through the pages. Some of his work was way better than anything you could ever dream of drawing, but he probably thought the same about yours. There were a few small doodles that made your heart melt, like one of a poodle that looked like he drew under sixty seconds. 

You had gotten so wrapped up in looking at the pages you didn’t even notice the way he was looking at you. He looked at you like he was seeing something so magnificent, and if he dared look away he would miss something. The way your eyes scanned over the paper, the way you would smile when you saw something you found his drunk doodles, it made him feel like he was drunk then and there. He had almost forgotten about what he drew you, on the newest page. When your expression changed to something unreadable his heart sped up and he shifted anxiously on the bed.

“This is me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing, it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. Not because it was you, but because you knew it was the way he saw you. You were wearing that pretty white sundress you had worn the day he first saw you and you had jasmine flowers in your hair. You looked like you were in the middle of walking, your left hand trailing through the tall grass he had drawn you in. You had a small smile on your face and you were looking directly in front of you as if you knew you were being drawn. It looked amazing, so beautiful you couldn’t believe that was actually you. But sure enough it was identical. “I look so pretty.”

Arthur scratched the back of his head, torn between feeling utterly in love with you and feeling disgusted at how sappy and vulnerable he was. “I draw what I see.” 

That was all you needed. You set the book down beside you and threw all your inhibitions out the window, crawling to the foot of the bed to kiss him. You took his face in your hands and pulled him towards you. His trimmed beard felt rough in your hands but you loved every bit of it. His lips felt even better against your own, they were hot and tasted raw as if he had been chewing on them for hours. 

Arthur inhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes wide and his hands raised off his lap in surprise. He wanted to push you off because he knew it was wrong and you’d regret it later. He told himself you had to have been drinking, there was no way any woman like you would kiss someone like him. 

You were the one to end the kiss, but only because you were running out of breath. It seemed he had been too, since when you parted he sucked in a breath. 

“Now why did you do that?” He asked immediately, his voice faultering.

“I don’t know.” You admitted with a shrug and a soft laugh. “I just wanted to. I’m sorry, I should have asked. I just, really… really like you, Arthur. I know we haven’t been in the same room as each other a total of ten hours… but I don’t know. I’ve never felt like this. I don’t know what the normal thing to do is when you like someone like this.”

Arthur shook his head and sighed. “Don’t do that. Please. Don’t.” 

“Give me a reason.” You were still so close you were practically touching, your knees a hair length apart. “Because I don’t see any good reason not to.”

“(Y/N), I’m not a good person. I don’t know if I’ll stay around here long, I don’t normally stay in one place for too long. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, you’re a young beautiful woman. You could have any man, hell, any man or woman you’d ever want.”

“Really? Well, I want you.” 

He sighed and closed his eyes, shaking his head again. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, I want you, Arthur. I don’t want anyone else, not right now at least. And right now is all that matters.”

At your words he groaned, hearing the sentence ‘I want you’ coming from your mouth was too much for him. “But-”

You shut him up with another kiss, this one shorter but more heated. “Listen Arthur, I’m a big girl, okay? I won’t be heartbroken if we never see eachother again. I’ll be sad for a while, sure, but like you said. I’ve got my whole life. I’ll get over it.” You smiled and took off his hat, setting it beside him. “You think pretty highly of yourself if you think one night will be the end of me.”

Arthur laughed and finally looked at you. “You’re stubborn. You know that?”

“Of course I do. But now you’ve got me interested, what’s so good about you that you want to protect me from missing?” You questioned with an innocent smile, placing a hand on his knee. 

He grew serious again and the playful smile disappeared. “(Y/N), I don’t think this is such a good idea.” He warned while he still had the mindset to think that deeply. Your hand on his knee wasn’t helping his good intentions. “If your folks-”

“Don’t worry about them. They sleep on the other side of the house with the river right outside their window. The only thing that will wake them is screaming, or the dogs outside. But don’t worry, I can be quiet.” You winked and took his hand in yours, impressed by how huge they seemed compared to you. “Please?” 

There was no way of explaining how you got the idea to start kissing his fingers, it just felt right. Arthur closed his eyes and groaned in the ‘What have I gotten myself into’ type of way. There was no way he could say no to you, not when you were doing… that. “Christ, woman.” He hissed when you pulled him forwards towards the head of the bed. 

He took a quick second to take his boots off and blow out the candle, providing you with a more comfortable sense of safety. There was no way anyone besides the two of you could see what was going on in your room.

He climbed back on the bed and kissed you, one hand on your cheek and one on the bed beside you. Arthur kissed so sensual and deep that you felt like you were kissing someone you had been married to for your entire life. Your heart swelled and all the blood made its way between your legs in a hurry. “Take this off.” You whispered against his mouth as you unbuttoned the front of his shirt. 

He finished the rest of the buttons, sitting up on his knees to pull his arms out of the shirt. Once it was off he hurried back to kissing you like his life depended on it. He loved the feeling so much he totally forgot about the rest of his clothes and only stopped when you placed your toes on his belt buckle and gently pushed him back. 

You smiled when he laughed and shook his head at you. “What? Don’t like taking your time?” He teased and lowered his hands to unbuckle his belt. The imagery mixed with the gentle clink of metal as he took his belt off drove you mad.

“I do once the clothes are off.” You meant to tease him back but you sounded far too serious. He had nothing to say to that so he just finished taking his belt off, laying it with his hat at the foot of the bed. When he leaned forward again you stopped him with your foot on his chest. “Keep going.”

“Maybe you should've been the one warning me.” He breathed and pulled his pants down his hips, standing from the bed to pull them off the rest of the way.  “There’s no way I could have you just once.” 

Good. You thought. You didn’t want him just once either. 

Once he finally got his pants off you felt it was unfair that you were still fully clothed so you reached under your dress and pulled down your panties. He watched as you pulled them off of your raised feet with a look that just screamed sex. “Am I dreamin’?” He asked with a laugh, sliding back onto the bed in front of you. 

“Come here and find out.” You grinned and spread your legs a bit, just enough to notice but not enough for him to see anything exciting.

“Jesus, woman.” His voice was barely a whisper and he leaned back into you, grabbing your waist gently to pull you flat on your back, his hips pressed flush against you. You could feel how hard he was through the thin fabric of his underwear and it drove you fucking crazy. He finally started taking the lead then and he slipped his hand between the two of you, sliding his fingers down your slick folds to your entrance. When he pushed a finger inside of you the both of you gasped, he didn’t expect you to feel so good around him. 

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered and closed your eyes, grabbing onto his biceps. His arm muscles tensed under your touch, mostly his right arm since that was the one with its fingers inside you. 

He kept at that for a while, curling it inside you in sync with the beat of his heart. You came just from that. When he felt you tense up around him mixed with the feeling of hot cum oozing down his hand he lost any patience he had left. He took his hand out from between your legs and kissed you again, using his right hand to take the last article of clothing he had off. When he pressed back down into you the breath hitched in your throat. 

“God.” You moaned and moved your hands from his arms up to tangle into his hair. “I want you so bad, Arthur.” 

As if he couldn’t be in any more of a hurry, you had to go and say that. 

“You have no idea.” He said with a grunt and used a hand to guide the tip of his cock against you. He rubbed it up and down your slit a few times and you let out the filthiest sound he had ever heard. You locked your ankles around his back and pushed him into you, catching him by surprise. 

The feeling of his cock fully inside of you was indescribable. You arched your back and rolled your head back into the pillows. He groaned and grabbed the bottom of your nightgown to pull off of you. You had to help him get it off your shoulders. After it finally came off he sighed, looking down at your body.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He whispered and leaned back down into you. His thrusts were slow, but only for a few of them. Once he was sure you were ready he let himself go completely. You pulled his head down to yours and kissed him again as his cock drove in and out of you at a quick steady pace. He felt so amazing inside you, the feeling of his cock rubbing against that one special spot gave you your second orgasm. 

Your third came when he rough handled you a little bit for the first time, he had grabbed your thighs roughly and slammed himself inside you about four times. The sheer force of it all knocked the air out of your lungs and left you paralyzed. The fourth time you came he had flipped you onto your stomach. The way he could manhandle you to easily was so hot to you that you swore you fell in love with him then. 

When he pushed his cock back into you at the new angle was when you came, and god, he felt it. He almost came with you but he thankfully had the will to pull out and give himself a few seconds to calm down. Once he had enough time he continued fucking you into your mattress. 

This all went on for what only felt like a few minutes. You had no idea that you’d actually been at it for nearly two hours. You probably would have gone longer if you didn’t decide to sit in his lap, that had been what finished him off. 

When you were on top of him his cock reached deeper inside you than it had ever been before. He was stunned for a second, unable to move as you rode his cock and pulled his head back by his hair. When you sunk your teeth into his neck was when he truly lost it. He came undone in you, grabbing you by your hips and forcing you down further onto his length. 

The noises that came from him sounded so primal it led you to your final orgasm. Thank god you came with him because there was no way he’d be able to go again after that. He’d be surprised if he had the energy to climb down that lattice and onto his horse. 

No one said anything for a good while but that was okay. You couldn’t talk if you tried. You were too busy gasping for breath to form words.

Arthur was the first to speak. “I should probably leave now, I told Dutch I’d only be out a few minutes.” He sighed when he remembered that the older man had told him not to stay out too long since the law was keeping an eye out for them. You had no idea who Dutch was but you nodded anyways. 

“Alright. I should go to sleep anyways, I’ve got to wake up early in the morning to go to town with my mother.” 

Arthur nodded and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, noticing how messy it had become. Before he came over he had made sure it looked nice but now he was sure it looked as if he had no idea what a comb was. 

You watched him pull his clothes back on, almost forgetting his hat and belt. He slipped your picture for him in his journal and safely secured it, sliding it back into his satchel. 

After he gathered his things he gave you one last kiss at the doors, full of more passion than any others you had previously shared. “Could I come see you again sometime?” He asked after you parted with the most adorable smile on his face. 

God. He was right in his warning, there was no way you could get over a smile like that.

“Arthur, you know the answer to that.” 

[transhumanitynet]

Messaging Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence (METI) – A Local Search

Abstract: This paper examines the feasibility of an amateur approach to METI using cheaply available lasers and optics. We suggest a novel variation in the search methodology, concentrating on contacting any interstellar extraterrestrial probes that may be present in the solar system. Specifically, the Lunar poles and Lagrange points L4 and L5. It is assumed that such a probe incorporates advanced artificial intelligence (AI) at or beyond human level. Additionally, that it is able to communicate in all major languages and common communications protocols. The paper is written in non-technical language with sufficient information to act as a “how to” source for technically knowledgeable people.

Note: Any portion of this may be reproduced and used in any manner provided attributions “Dirk Bruere” and the organization “Zero State” are included.  Other more technical versions of this are available.

[ DOWNLOAD PDF ]

Historical Introduction

On 16 November 1974 The radio telescope at Arecibo sent a brief message to the M13 star cluster some 25,000 light years distant. It comprised some 210 bytes of data sent at a bitrate of 10 bits per second and a power of around one megawatt. The (colored) pictorial representation is shown here. It is probably the best known attempt at contacting extraterrestrial intelligence (ETI), even though it was not serious, was not the first and by no means the last.

The first was a Morse code message sent from the USSR to Venus in 1962 which was even shorter. It is known in Russian as the Radio Message “MIR, LENIN, SSSR”.

Latterly, in 2016 on 10 October 2016, at 20:00 UTC the Cebreros (DSA2) deep-space tracking station of the European Space Agency sent a radio signal towards Polaris, the Pole Star, which is approximately 434 light years from Earth. The message consisted of a single 27,653,733 byte, 866 second transmission. Again, it was not a serious contact attempt, and was rather more a work of performance art by Paul Quast.

A few, more serious, attempts have been made in the intervening years i, targeted at more plausible planetary systems but none for any sustained period of time.

So, enter METI ii or “Messaging Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence” who aim to start a serious and comprehensive program of signaling various star systems some time in 2018 if they can raise the estimated $1million per year needed to run the program. For once, judging by their website, they intend to do it properly with a great deal of effort going into the communications protocols of the messages themselves.

Laser Communication

And that is where we were until June 2017 and a paper iii written by Michael Hippke examining the possible role of using the gravitational lensing effect of our sun to amplify laser signals across interstellar distances. The surprising conclusion was that using optical wavelength lasers and mirrors of only one-meter diameter, data could potentially be transferred at a megabit per second rates using around one Watt of power over 4 light years. This, to put it mildly, is spectacular especially since the receiving technology is potentially within our ability, assuming we could locate a telescope some 600 astronomical units (AU) from the sun. Unfortunately, our most distant spacecraft is Voyager 1 at about 140AU. He also showed in a previous paper that the data rate drops to bits per second per watt using a 39-meter receiving telescope and no lensing.

However, if we turn that around and assume that ETI has superior technology to us and can implement suitable receivers, then to contact them we need only very modest laser transmitters. Ones that are well within the budget of hobbyists and amateur astronomers. The advantage of using lasers is more apparent, especially for amateurs, when we consider beam divergence. Lasers can quite easily achieve divergences of less than one milli-radian (mrad) which corresponds to one meter per kilometer. To achieve that with microwaves at (say) 6GHz would necessitate a transmitter dish of approximately 65 meters diameter. A very expensive piece of radio astronomy kit. This also means that power levels can be significantly less than would be needed for radio communication. Nevertheless, there are serious caveats. These mostly concern the location and type of transmitter. For example, to limit beam spread Hippke assumes a one-meter diameter mirror and a beam spread of considerably less than a milliradian, so we are going to assume a rather larger receiver at the ETI end in order to minimize beam requirements at our end.

A much more serious problem is that the mirrors have to be aligned with each other. Specifically, the transmitter should be relatively stationary in space, and not on a rotating planet which is in turn circling its sun. If the latter is the case, the receiver will probably only align at fixed intervals lasting no more than a few tens of milliseconds unless very precise aiming technology is used.

However, there is a more interesting search regime far better suited to low budget than attempting interstellar communications.

Exploratory Scenario

This is a METI search that will be primarily focused on contact with self-replicating Von Neumann (VN) style interstellar probes iv. There are strong arguments that over a time scale of the order of thousands to a few million years, these are the best way of exploring the galaxy by any intelligent technology-oriented species. Once one of these devices arrives in a solar system it sets about creating sufficient infrastructure to both report back to its home system (as well as possible siblings) and create a replica of itself for onward launch to multiple other stars. Reasonably conservative capabilities are as follows:

They are very likely to outlive the species that sent them

They would almost certainly embody an artificial intelligence (AI) at or beyond Human level capability

They would be self-repairing and possibly have a lifetime in the tens of millions of years, barring accidents

They could exist around just about every star in the galaxy within ten million years

Using the kind of technology we might reasonably expect to appear sometime in the next century or two, such as placing observatories at the gravitational focal point of our sun, some 600AU out, we could view details on nearby extra-solar planets. And anyone out there could do the same to us. As a consequence, Earth has likely been an interesting place to view for the past 300 million years or so with its oxygen atmosphere and vegetation. And vastly more interesting in the past 10,000 years since rectangular shapes started appearing in the form of cities and fields. Rectangles generally do not occur naturally. Then in the past 300 years, the atmosphere started to show signs of industrial pollution followed 200 years later by radio and TV signals, intense radar pulses and the unmistakable sign of nuclear bombs whose output peaked at around 1% of the total output power of our sun.

If ETI exists, or has existed, within a few thousand light years there is a strong possibility that their probes are already here, and have been for a considerable length of time. This leads to a number of massively simplifying assumptions, again quite reasonable given the scenario above. These are:

Since we are now searching within our solar system power levels can be vastly reduced.

Message transit times, in both directions, are no more than a few hours maximum and possible only seconds.

Any intelligent VN probe that has been examining Earth will have been monitoring our technological development and radio/TV output. As a consequence, it will almost certainly understand all the major languages both written and spoken as well as our communications protocols.

We need to consider beaming our messages at likely locations within our own solar systems. For example, where would we place intelligent probes to wait out the ages and watch developments on Earth? Among strong possibilities are the Lunar poles, Lunar caverns which we now know exist v and the Lagrange points vi associated with Earth’s orbit, particularly L4 and L5, where position can be held with little expenditure of energy. We intend to beam laser messages to these points as part of the Zero State program.

But what messages? People have given much thought to creating a communications system that can be decoded by ETI, as mentioned above with METI. However, we contend that the answer is simple – we use English, and code in simple ASCII.

What has been lacking from Earth is a specific invitation to communicate or visit. It is this that forms the core of our project.

How Far Can We Be Seen?

Suppose we want to do the crudest communication system possible – a laser doing Morse Code. To the unaided Human eye, how far away could we see the beam? This depends on several factors:

Beam Divergence

Beam power

Wavelength

Eye sensitivity

Taking these in turn…

The power we will assume to be one Watt since this level of power is quite economical, and the wavelength to be either 532nm or 520nm, the latter being a pure diode output, not frequency doubled.

It is also the approximate wavelength where the eye peaks in sensitivity, and in our project is partly chosen for this reason. We could have gone for high power infrared in the tens of watts, or maybe towards the blue/violent end of the spectrum. However, green is not only easier and safer to work with, being highly visible, but is quite photogenic. From a safety point of view you seriously do not want an invisible beam of blinding intensity sweeping about. That would also be more difficult to aim and focus.

So we have an intensity of approximately one Watt per square meter at a distance of one kilometer, with the intensity dropping off as the square of the distance. At 2 km we have 0.25W per square meter, and so on.

Finally, what is the maximum sensitivity of the dark adapted Human eye? It appears to be about 100 photons per secondvii, but for the sake of argument we shall assume a level ten times lower, or 1000 photons per second in a dark adapted eye whose aperture is 100 square millimeters. That gives us a minimum intensity requirement of 10^7 photons per square meter per second. With each green photon carrying an energy of approximately 3.5e-19 Joules we get a required power density of 3.5e-12 Watts.

So, how far can our 1W green laser with a divergence of 1 mRad travel before we hit that value? The answer is a little over 500,000km – further than the Earth-Moon separation. By the time the beam gets there it will be illuminating a circle some 500km in diameter. If we are looking back from the Moon via a modest telescope such a beam would appear as a bright flickering point of monochromatic light. Even a 100mm diameter telescope would improve visibility by more than 100 times.

If we wish to improve the numbers there are certain things we can do. If we increase the power, it scales linearly in intensity at a given distance. If we increase the collimation to (say) 0.5mRad the intensity quadruples, but the illuminated area decreases 75% as the spot size halves.

Proof of Principle Equipment – Stage 1

The setup described below is an absolute minimum and has been put together simply to illustrate how easy it can be, and how cheap.

WARNING! – The lasers described should be treated like a loaded firearms with the safety off. Anyone around it should have eye protection goggles when it is operating or being worked on. If it sweeps across your eyes it will cause instant permanent blindness. It can also start fires. These are Class 4viii. You should also assume they will cause eye damage out to 1km if the beam is not expanded.

The basic equipment list is relatively straightforward – example sources are UK but may be obtained cheaply elsewhere:

• A computer with a USB interface • A terminal emulator program such as Realtermix or similar • A USB to TTL converter cable x • A battery based stabilized power supply for the laser module • High power laser module 1 Watt or greater xi • A telescopic rifle sight (scope) • A GOTO telescope • Various Weaver rail fittings and adapters • A low power sighting laser • Laser safety goggles

Less straightforward is any metalwork or optical interfacing of the laser module, however, the use of a scope with integral Weaver rails simplifies things considerably. The scope needs an attachment to the GOTO telescope, and the rest of the equipment attaches to the scope.

The next problem is that of holding the telescopic sight on target, which is where a motorized equatorial mount, or GOTO mount is required. Both will compensate for the rotation of the Earth and hold on a previously acquired target with accuracy much better than the assumed mrad (for scale, the diameter of the full moon in the sky is about 9 mrad) A GOTO telescope is fully computerized and will automatically move to designated targets either by name or celestial coordinates.

The first step is to securely attach the laser module co-axially to the telescopic sight so that you can see through the scope where the beam strikes. To do this you need a deserted area where you can aim the beam at a target some 100 meters distant and adjust optics and mechanical attachment so that the beam is aligned and parallel to the cross-hairs.

At this point you can examine the beam quality. With modules such as the above it will not be around spot. More likely it will be an image of the emission diode structure. Not ideal, but good enough for now.

The pictures below show the scope, sighting laser and Class 4 laser complete with a DIN rail that is used to attach all this to the telescope. In this instance, it is mounted on a camera tripod for alignment work.

Illustration 1: Left Side of the Lasers and Optics

  Illustration 2: Right Side of the Lasers and Optics

  Illustration 3: Front view of the Lasers and Optics

Proof of Principle Equipment – Stage 2

So, how do we improve upon this? Well, the answer is obvious. Rather than relying on the beam straight from the laser passing through the supplied focusing lens we use custom optics to expand and collimate the beam. This at once gives us better control over the divergence and by expanding the beam makes it somewhat safer by reducing areal power density.

Next, we add a receiver to the telescope eyepiece.

This consists of a bandpass optical filter centered at the wavelength of the laser transmitter. Again, this assumes that any VN probe is quite capable of transmitting on the received wavelength at a power level comparable to, or greater than, our own. The necessary electronics, including a high sensitivity photodiode, is not prohibitively expensive.

Final equipment and Message Format

The above describes a minimal setup both from a cost and capability point of view. A more suitable laser system would be one using a far higher power, and a receiving telescope with a mirror at least 200mm diameter (8” reflector).

The choice of lasers is wide, but if we limit the choice to minimize atmospheric absorption and costly optics that leaves visible and near infrared (NIR).

One possibility stands out. That is a Q-switched Nd:YAG laserxii, with around a 200W continuous,

1MW pulsed, output at 1064nm normally used as an industrial cutter. The output can if necessary be frequency doubled to 532nm green but with loss of power.

This should be able to communicate with its equivalent to a distance beyond the orbit of Jupiter.

Such systems typically cost under $15k, although the optics, beam guides and alignment equipment will add significantly to this price. Needless to say, such a beam in free space is spectacularly dangerous if mishandled.

Additional requirements will include an electric generator or power source in the kilowatt region, water cooling and a trailer if the equipment has to be moved to an open air site before use.

All together we intend to budget around $30,000 for the hardware. Location is as yet undecided, although a strong possibility is Provo, Utah in the USA given its clear skies and weather. Britain is a poor second in this respect. Plus, we may locate it at the TransHumanist Housexiii available to Zero State House Adar. However, much depends on location and local laws.

The message format with Q-switched pulses would be somewhat different from the existing setup. The coding would be provided by the timing between the pulses, or by the timing between successive pulse trains. Again, data rate would be low because we are not attempting to communicate anything complex. Just attract attention.

Zero State seeks collaboration from like-minded engineers and scientists, and sponsorship for this project, which after initial hardware costs are met should incur very low running costs.

Ethical Considerations

On 13 February 2015, scientists (including Geoffrey Marcy, Seth Shostak, Frank Drake, Elon Musk and David Brin) at a convention of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, discussed Active SETI and whether transmitting a message to possible intelligent extraterrestrials in the Cosmos was a good idea; one result was a statement, (which was not signed by Seth Shostak or Frank Drake), that a “worldwide scientific, political and humanitarian discussion must occur before any message is sent” xiv . We believe that this is not, and should not be the case for local METI. We should issue the invitation to communicate now. It is beyond reasonable doubt that if any ETI capable of receiving these messages lies within our solar system or a few tens of light years, then they already know of our existence.

References: 

i https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_interstellar_radio_messages ii http://meti.org/mission iii https://arxiv.org/abs/1706.05570 iv Journal of the British Interplanetary Society, Vol.33, pp. 251-264 1980 v https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lunar_lava_tube vi https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lagrangian_point vii S. Hecht, S. Schlaer and M.H. Pirenne, “Energy, Quanta and vision.” Journal of the Optical Society of America, 38, 196-208 (1942) viii http://www.lasersafetyfacts.com/4/ ix https://sourceforge.net/projects/realterm/ x https://www.maplin.co.uk/p/usb-to-ttl-serial-cable-cable-n74de xi http://odicforce.com/epages/05c54fb6-7778-4d36-adc0-0098b2af7c4e.sf/en_GB/?ObjectPath=/Shops/05c54fb6- 7778-4d36-adc0-0098b2af7c4e/Products/OFL365-5-TTL xii https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nd:YAG_laser xiii https://hpluspedia.org/wiki/Transhuman_House xiv https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_interstellar_radio_messages

Messaging Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence (METI) – A Local Search was originally published on transhumanity.net

[acidwaste]

hey so it seems i’ve forgot to do a l o t of tag memes, and i’m lucky i drafted a big bunch of them! lots of questions overlapped so i did my best to answer in different ways, sorry for the lateness! also @ the people that tagged me here, i wouldn't hesitate to kill for you

@natcaptor / @gayspaced

name: leon or lionel!

nicknames: literally the only nickname I’ve been referred to is “big gay” and like. word!

gender: im pretty sure im a guy, i have been kinda 🤔🤔🤔 abt my gender identity since around november-ish though

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1! i’m told that I’m tall but my uncle is 6’7 so...

time: 3:36pm rn! ive been watching video essays and binging music all afternoon

birthday: december 9th!

favourite bands: animal collective, beach house, camp cope, car seat headrest, death grips, fleet foxes, florence + the machine, gang of youths, glass animals, gorillaz, hop along, iceage, idles, kero kero bonito, mgmt, miike snow, modest mouse, run the jewels, superorganism, the avalanches, the cat empire, the go! team, the mountain goats, the wombats, xiu xiu

favourite solo artists: alex lahey, anderson .paak, ariana grande, billie eilish, bjork, cashmere cat, charli xcx, courtney barnett, cupcakke, d.r.a.m, eric taxxon, frank ocean, gfoty, hatchie, janelle monae, jeff rosenstock, joanna newsom, jorja smith, jpegmafia, kacey musgraves, kali uchis, kendrick lamar, khalid, kimbra, lorde, mac demarco, madeon, mick jenkins, mitski, oneohtrix point never, perfume genius, ravyn lenae, rina sawayama, serpentwithfeet, sophie, st. vincent, sza, vince staples

song stuck in my head: caramelo duro | miguel // kali uchis! its a bop, miguel is one of the few singers that can convincingly make sex jams

last movie i watched: deadpool 2! it was even better than the first, which is a feat in itself ngl

when did i create my blog: december 2016??? i only started using it properly in february last year tho

last thing i googled: “im in my mums car broom broom.” dont @ me

do i have any other blogs: yeah, plenty actually!! i have blogs for aesthetic (@moltenstar), general inspo (@wverns), flight rising (@szarising, kinda inactive?), and overwatch (@blackhardts) tbh the vast majority of my ‘sideblogs’ are just saved urls H

do i get asks: when i say stupid shit like “rung has the ass of a dilf but the dick of a cockroach”

why i chose my url: that one panel where kobd have a vacation at the acid wastes because fuck its finally canon babey!

following: 1,767, which is kinda horrifying!!

followers: 890?? somehow??? thats almost One Whole Thousand and i don't even make content

average hours of sleep: around 6 or 7!! n e v e r more though

lucky number: 43 and 64!!

instruments: i'm too poor to afford music lessons or instruments jsbddsjknfs

what am i wearing: a grey shirt and nothing on my bottom half so my [redacted] is hanging tf out, i should put on some damn clothes

dream job:  oooo uhhh, i’m studying to get an education degree rn because i’d love to teach children (around grade 3-4s preferably because i'm too jittery to handle anyone younger and older kids probs won't listen to me as much as i lack plenty of assertiveness), but!! i’d honestly love to be a musician, one of those underground ones that get lots of critical acclaim

dream trip: one day i wanna gather up some friends and just go on a road trip! idm where we go to, as long as we just have fun and just! adventure!

favourite foods: rare steak, mashed potatoes, eggs, and energy shakes made with like. fruit / cheese / yoghurt / oats / chia seeds ! protein is a large part of my diet

nationality: new zealand, but living in australia

favourite song right now: best part | daniel caesar // h.e.r - gosh i need to re-listen to daniel’s album again, i don’t remember this beautiful song being there and that’s a crime

@damndesi / @novarebel / @luciform-philogynist

APPEARANCE - I am 5'7 or taller - I wear glasses - I have at least one tattoo (but I am getting a tā moko in December, I believe) - I have at least one piercing (planning to get a nose ring, like a bull!) - I have blonde hair - I have brown eyes - I have short hair - My abs are at least somewhat defined (b a r e l y) - I have or had braces

PERSONALITY - I love meeting new people - People tell me I am funny - Helping others with their problems is a big priority of mine - I enjoy physical challenges - I enjoy mental challenges - I am playfully rude to people I know - I started saying something ironically and now I can’t stop saying it - There is something I would change about my personality

ABILITY - I can sing well - I can play an instrument - I can do over 30 pushups without stopping (barely) - I am a fast runner - I can draw well - I have a good memory - I am good at doing math in my head - I can hold my breath underwater for over a minute - I have beaten at least 2 people arm wrestling - I can make at least 3 recipes from scratch - I know how to throw a proper punch

HOBBIES - I enjoy sports - I’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else - I’m in an orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else - I have learned a new song in the past week - I exercise at least once a week - I have gone for runs at least once a week in warmer months - I have drawn something in the past month - I enjoy writing - Fandoms are my #1 priority - I do some form of Martial arts

EXPERIENCES - I have had my first kiss - I have had alcohol (tastes like shit) - I have scored a winning point in a sport - I have watched an entire TV series in one sitting - I have been at an overnight event - I have been in a taxi - I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year - I have beaten a video game in one day - I have visited another country - I have been to one of my favorite bands concerts

MY LIFE - I have one person that I consider to be my Best Friend - I live relatively close to my school/work - My parents are still together - I have at least one sibling - I live in the United States - There is snow where I live right now - I have hung out with a friend in the past month - I have a smart phone - I own at least 15 CDs - I share my room with someone

RELATIONSHIPS - I am in a Relationship - I have a crush on a celebrity - I have a crush on someone I know - I’ve been in at least 3 relationships - I have never been in a Relationship - I have admitted my feelings to a crush - I get crushes easily - I have had a crush for over a year - I have been in a relationship for over a year - I have had feelings for a friend

RANDOM - I have break-danced - I know a person named Jamie - I have had a teacher that has a name that is hard to pronounce - I have dyed my hair - I’m listening to a song on repeat right now - I have punched someone in the past week - I know someone who has gone to jail - I have broken a bone (do fractures count?) - I have eaten a waffle today - I know what I want to do in life - I speak at least two languages (not fluently) - I have made a new friend in the past year

@smstransformers

age: 16

birthplace: auckland, nz

current time: 4:19 pm rn!!!

drink you last had: i just skulled half a liter of water whoops

favourite song: jesus etc. | wilco if we're talking abt an all-time favourite

grossest memory: accidentally swallowing a bee when i was seven years old (somehow nothing bad happened?)

horror, yes or no: not unless it’s an incredibly tame horror t b h, my threshold for scariness is very low

in love: i believe so!

jealous of people: lots of times, over really dumb things

love by first sight or should I walk by again: i believe that infatuation can exist at first sight but true love not so much. wish that could happen tho :C

middle name: shane!

siblings: my sister is eight years old, and my brother is seven!

one wish: EZ, make my anxiety disappear, i’d have a much more productive life

song i last sang: jupiter | haiku hands

time i woke up: 7:13, woke up immediately because i usually like to wake at 6:30

underwear colour: blue + purble

vacation destination: auckland / kingston / sydney!

worst habit: not remembering to make my goddamn bed, it looks like garbage

favourite food: mashed potatoes….

zodiac sign: sagittarius !!!

@alyonian

relationship status:

at the moment i’m single! and while being in a relationship sounds brilliant, the last two relationships i was involved in? didn’t work out to say the least, lucky i’m still young

favourite colour:

it’s been emerald green for the longest time but orange seems to be dethroning it at a steady pace

lipstick or chapstick:

i haven’t used chapstick since i was six but i probably should use it again, water is my substitute rn fdghdgh - and i haven’t ever used lipstick in any capacity? so i’d have to go with the former

last song i listened to:

the space traveller’s lullaby | kamasi washington - i’m trying to get through his second album rn (i left off on the second disk yesterday) and while everything he makes is undeniably amazing, it’s? a three hour album? i don’t have the attention span for his spiritual jazz, as great as it is

last movie:

monsters inc is playing on the television right now, i’ll go with that! the animation aged kinda badly but it’s still such a fun movie! sidenote: james p. sullivan? a childhood crush, so this gives me memories

top 3 tv shows/podcasts/comics:

i rarely, if ever, venture into these forms of media but! if i had to answer, i’d say;

unbreakable kimmy schmidt / parks & recreation / luke cage

taz / mbmbam (i havent like. watched a full episode of either but they seem cool,)

tf idw / …………. yeah that’s it, i’ve never read anything else. probably should!

additional favs:

my friends, writing (in theory), listening to video essays, learning music theory + instruments and understanding audio production software

top 3 bands / artists:

HHH okay if i had to limit my choices to just three artists, uh. lorde, the mountain goats, and sophie. i couldnt even fit janelle in i hate th is

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

@alyonian

color(s): light colors are always nice and pleasant, though anything peachy and sandy are the best! orange (specially pastel orange) is like. the best thing

last band t-shirt i bought: usually merchandising is very expensive and i dont have the money to accommodate that, but like. i do recall having a wiggles shirt when i was five. i wore it all the time, shjdjgsksd im sure that counts

last band i saw live: i almost went to splendor in the grass last year with family, which wasn't only cool since i’ve never been out of the state since i immigrated - the festival was in queensland, which is around a two hour flight from victoria - but the lineup was pretty fuckin lit too! the xx, haim, peking duk, tash sultana, future islands, vallis alps, a.b original,, i was p excited! unfortunately my uncle fell ill and so they had to give the tickets to extended family :( otherwise, i haven't been to a single concert in my life

last song i listened to: street fighter mas | kamasi washington - up to this song on the album and i really fuckin dig this! also the video is hypnotizing

last movie i watched: monsters inc is about to finish and up next is monsters university! which like…. honestly, this is an extremely unpopular opinion but, i like it just as much as the original? my opinion might be skewed because i’m a monster [hugger], but i like everything abt the movie! except for the finale of the scare games and the last five minutes of the movie, both were just. dreadful.

last three tv shows i watched: if aggretsuko counts that’s the last series i watched of my own volition, which is a miracle in itself considering that’s legit only the second anime i’ve watched to completion (the first being shirokuma cafe, which i probably need to re-watch). otherwise, the last two shows i had beared witness to were thirteen reasons why and queer eye bc my cousin put them on! that first show i could completely do without but queer eye is iconique

last 3 characters i identified with: grimlock (legit. all of them), urdnot grunt (mass effect) and vector the crocodile (sth), i’m not sure what this says about me other than Big

book(s) i’m currently reading: i’m reading ‘maus’ by art spiegelman at the moment, for the third time i believe? i believe my classmates are supposed to be writing an essay on this next term and shit, this novel is heartbreaking, i haven't been this emotional when reading a book than… ever, really. it’s a recommendation of the highest caliber

@victorion

name: leon / lionel, i picked up the second name because i was in a server with an admin that was also a Leon™

nickname: besides ‘Big Gay’ i also have the nickname ‘lemon lion’ which is! nice!!

zodiac sign: archer man

height: Tall™

language(s) spoken: english / some maori + italian

fav fruit: watermelons (only when in season)

fav scent: the smell of a freezer tbh? it just smells Nice i don’t know how to properly explain it

fav season: spring! the breezes are welcoming without being overbearingly freezing

fav color: ornge,,,,

fav animal: SHARKS + CROCS + FERRETS

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea! with some milk tho

average hrs of sleep: too little

fav fictional character: One character?????? uhhhhhhh……. like. biggest cc right now is either idw skids or oz from monster prom

no. of blankets you sleep with: depending on my mood but i’d say the average is like, 3??

fav songs: i quickly whipped up some songs i listen to

fav artists: i came to the realization that i like acts that are considered ‘bad’ like maroon 5/drake/lil yachty etc in specific doses… i wouldn't call them good yet, but! i have no beef and thats good

fav books: remember ‘where the wild things are’??? that shit was like. literal childhood, man.. :happytears: i really need to look for a copy again

@thonany-klieme

name: leon / lionel, interchangeable really

gender: male, im probs an nb guy

star sign: sagittarius!

height: 6’1

sexuality: gay??? im not sure, im mostly attracted to other guys but i have had very brief crushes on girls + nb people? sexuality’s confusing so im gonna just latch to the gaybel (gay label) for now

lock screen image: its the album cover of 1992 deluxe by princess nokia, tho it was “T Hanos” a few days ago since i change it often - my home screen is venom but his torso says ‘fuck machine’

ever had a crush on a teacher: no??

where do you see yourself in ten years: ideally i’m teaching kids math n english, realistically i’m probably going down with the political climate

if you could go anywhere, where would you go: new zealand!! or the netherlands

what was your favorite halloween costume: halloween is not big at all where i live, the only time i tried trick or treating was when i was like 7?? i threw a bedsheet on myself and pretended to be a ghost, though since there were no eyeholes + the sheet was blue, it looked more like i was just a moving lump

last kiss: never had one

have you ever been to las vegas: nah and i dont plan to?? how do you handle regular days of 40C wtf

favorite pair of shoes: i have this pair of jandals that ive worn for a fair bit longer than my other pair of shoes, tho i only wear them in summer + very warm nights

favorite book: ngl its. ‘the very hungry caterpillar’ by eric carle. i just, love it alot and i cant explain w h y

[leamen]

Reassurance

my friend met a friendly homeless guy the other night who showed him a community shelter and the idiot gives him acid as thanks even though the homeless guy was already clearly on other drugs and at the shelter the homeless guy blacked out and they kicked my friend out well they told him to come back a few hours later but my friend just ran away scared today a group of homeless guys went up to him at the park and said "well look who decided to show his face" he ran away he's been hearing things all day and a couple hours ago he told me he was hearing people talking about him as the killer bc he thinks he killed the homeless guy i really don't know if he's delusional or if something really really bad happened but he can't spend another night on the streets it's cold in montreal now i booked him a hotel room in the city and told him to rest up and we'll figure something out tomorrow and this fucking guy sends me a dick pic as a joke saying it was a selfie i'm sure he's just exhausted and delirious but i'm kind of upset he better be embarrased and apologize tomorrow morning i spent 300 dollars on his hotel bc he's in downtown i was so worried

lol he seems a funny guy the best he can do rn is get some good rest n food n water in him. hopefully getting his basic needs fulfilled will get the voices away how’d u two meet

we haven't met yet but i've known him on discord for a couple years he moved to montreal from alberta on my insistence he was depressed and his life was going nowhere and i felt the same living in new york until i moved to toronto i really opened up there and i thought him moving to montreal would be the same for him

did it end up worse?

but he ran out from his job last month yea couldn't pay rent and now he's homeless

wdym he ran out

he had a panic attack and stopped showing up

what was his job

at a restaurant i feel like an idiot when i moved to toronto i had at least a couple friends there and my mom knew people there i lived on couches my first month there and my friends helped me a lot but this guy went in totally alone i really should have known i feel really bad that's why i'm moving to montreal next month to help get him out of the mess i sent him in he thinks i'm being a good friend right now but fuck i'm really an idiot

so ur just gonna throw away everything u have in toronto?

i already did over a year ago when i lost my job in toronto and had to come back to new york at the start of the pandemic i lost all my friends way of life a lot of things important to me

cuz of the pandemic?

the pandemic

ah

i met a girl i loved very much and i watched our relationship crumble and turn bitter over the course of a year we should have broke up when i left i thought going back to school would help fill me with purpose but i just crumbled in school too and now i'm taking another gap year im just fucking everything up

no ur not. ur putting in as much effort as u can in one shitty situation after another whatever the outcome is, ur heart is in the right place eventually things will straighten out. there’s no changing the past, but u seem to have a lot of options ahead of u. u just gotta play ur hands right i’m glad u found sweetness when u did. it changed my life n i hope it’ll change urs

i dont know where my heart is i haven't been myself in over a year

from what i can tell ur an amazing person

u kno when someone u know is just out of it one day and not being themselves it's been like that for a really long time for me

i definitely know what ur talking ab the haze

i don't know who i am anymore i'm not good with words right now but i don't want to be who i used to be that version of me is too far away but i don't know who to become i can't describe it properly right now im just blabbering at this point im glad my friend didn't get mugged or arrested or worse i had a discord b4 but i tried to disconnect myself from anything to face my fear and to be totally alone but im back so i failed

u didn’t fail

the ppl in sweetness are nice

i tried that too n when i returned i was ashamed then i realized i had to accept those ppl into my life. i had to let them let me connect ya know ya know i haven’t known who i am for a long time as well. what helps me is getting into art, in whatever medium it may be. i personally chose conversation as my art form, hence the dream conversations in my story. just having a conversation whether it be with real ppl or made up ones that i write up helped me think ab myself i’m terrible at introspection and my own identity so i literally just ask ppl to describe me or what what they think of me lol ppl r always ready connect

i used to be the opposite i don't know myself anymore and im not really paying attention but i used to be so aware of my own state and attuned to subtleties i used to be really upbeat and happy go lucky but it's been so long since i've felt naturally like that i'm not sure if it's true for me to say that's the real me anymore maybe who i am now is the real me

i learned a long time ago that there’s no such thing as a “real me” the you before was the real u n the you now is also the real you. you are always you, it’s just that ppl change

what about personas and masks

ur going through a rough arc rn, but that doesn’t mean that it’s u forever

to me the true self is the one with nothing to hide you wrote about it in your story how you change a bit of yourself to everyone a different you tailored to different people but the most unchanged version of you i thought that was true self it's hard because i'm in a rough arc now but it's not the first time ive beat depression before and won but it feels like cancer it feels like remission is way harder to beat and it hurts the most to see your progress crumble and you go back to right where you started

definitely, but the fact that ur talking to me rn means that u haven’t been beaten yet letting it out to someone definitely helps a ton

[a different you tailored to different people] i believe those r all just different parts of one you

i wonder

because ppl can’t be one thing all the time. ppl r too complex for that it’s the ability to adapt and change that makes us human. knowing that things will always end up changing for u can be scary but it can also be comforting there’s always room for a new or a more

thanks for reminding me i already know this deep down inside but it's very deep down and i don't feel it there's a lot down there i'm not ready to face yet

as long as u know it’s down there n as long as you’ll get to it eventually, it’s ok to take ur time

i cant be taking my time not when i have so much time to make up for agh

just make sure ur not pushing urself too hard

sorry i think im just being difficult thank u i at least needed someone to talk to about what happened tn

no definitely not i very much enjoyed this conversation feel free to talk to me any time !

u as well

[bi-dazai]

okay here’s the 3 roots to all the problems in the writing in vld s4:

hi so right from the bat i was realising all these problems with uh. everything (including the art style?? who the fuck was in charge of drawing keith?? he has the same inaccuracy as fucking clone!shiro lmao). anyway if there are problems in writing, then you can actually trace it back to its roots and address the problem there, instead of just judging the outcome of the roots. 

there are also other tinier aspects of the show’s writing - like some moments of complete tonal whiplash (watch this video on star wars rebels if you’re curious about tonal whiplash) - which are just simply bad writing. but if you were wondering exactly what the fuck the vld writers’ deal is with s4, then this post will tell you. 

anyway, take this as a guide in how to critique s4, and how to not make these mistakes in your own writing.

1. loss of balance as the writers divert all writing to plot writing. 

so when you write a story, there’s a balance you have to find between character writing, relationship writing, and plot writing. depending on your story and your style, you’ll have more focus on one or two and less on another, but for a good story it won’t go to massive extremes and it will have a reasonable amount on each. for example, boku no hero academia is pretty much almost completely character writing, with a large focus on relationship writing from about the sports carnival arc onwards, but the plot is still really good because it isn’t forgotten about. avatar: the last airbender is character and plot-driven, but there’s still relationships built up and not forgotten about. 

so what is voltron: legendary defender? across s1-3, it had a HUGE focus on plot, a focus to the point that it was uh. risky. that focus is so much that you should only approach it if you know how to maintain that balance. vld’s focus on plot was toeing the line of too much - to the point that character writing was almost completely void, and relationship writing was extremely subtle. however, with keith’s arc in s2 and 3 and the developing relationships between keith and lance and lance and allura coupling in with subtle character development which allowed these relationships to develop and fuel the plot, vld actually handled it quite well. it’s why ive been saying this whole time to stop railing on the writers so hard because they chose a balance that’s extremely hard to keep and they actually pulled it off in a pretty impressive way when you factor in that difficulty. i regard s3 as a masterpiece - in 7 episodes the pacing was perfect despite plot accelerating massively and character relationships and development proceeding at a similar fast pace. 

where did s4 go wrong, then? well,  the writers forgot about that balance. they had plot points in mind, and they were sidetracked by these grand plans for t h e p l o t. pidge finding her brother, the introduction of the rebel alliance, keith leaving voltron, lotor being exiled, naxzala being attacked. all these plot points are really good!! and the plot was actually really good. but what went wrong is (mainly) the writers forgetting that they need that equilibrium, that balance (other reasons to do with plot are described below). they chose a balance that is much more delicate than many other stories, and this season they dumped a ten tonne weight on it because they forgot how fucking delicate it is. (i actually have a feeling this has to do with the way lok was written and i think they got used to that, send me an ask if you want me to talk about it more).

2. too much crammed into 6 episodes = destruction of pacing. 

i mentioned that the plot was good. it is. but it doesn’t feel that way, right? right. that’s because the ideas and the progression is good. but there is too much for this little screentime. lotor went from villain to “zuko” within 13 episodes, no, two episodes. that’s shit. do you remember actual zuko? that arc took years, and it began from the first episode. lotor? the redemption arc has taking uh. 40 minutes. and honestly, that is shit writing. 

another thing i had massive problems with - pidge’s episode. and that was my favourite episode for this season. this episode’s first bit is pidge finding and reuniting with her brother. and it’s really good! but i was watching it and thinking, “wow this is uh. this is moving a bit fast. we’re cutting away too soon on all of the scenes and shots. everything feels kinda cramped, time-wise.” well guess why!!??!!!?! the writers want to move the goddamn plot forward again!! the best episode of the season is completely ruined because instead of taking the entire episode to really dwell on pidge’s emotions and make us properly root for pidge’s journey (a la s3e5 - “the journey”), we take half the episode so that pidge and matt can reunite in two minutes and we can come back and do. PLOT RELATED STUFF. FUCKING CHRIST!!!! this is the episode that we have literally been waiting for since the first episode. and it’s fucking cut off by OTHER PLOTS. can someone please get briyan konietzko in here and explain to lm and jds what the fucking fuck CHARACTER AND RELATIONSHIP EPISODES ARE??!!?!!! HOLY SHIT!!! 

every shot in every scene in every episode of s4 isnt the full fucking thing!! listen - part of film language is how long you dwell on each shot, and how these shots are edited together. let me put this into layman’s terms - all the scenes and shots in s4 are just very vague, understandable descriptions of the actual scenes and shots. this aspect of the language of film is the difference between, “can i have water?” and “could I please get a glass of water?”/ “get me a glass of water now!”. you don’t get the emotion. you dont get the full effect. it’s just a summary of what happened. that was the entirety of how s4 was edited and put together, and it’s like that so that the writers could fit at least 13 episodes of plot into 6. with shortened, half-assed shots put together with cuts as transitions. i dont think i saw a single fade in/out/to in the entire season. all that i’ve described - it ruins pacing when it’s half-assed, and this was no-assed. the editing, the pacing - it’s close to fucking terrible b-movie standard. this is coming out of fucking dreamworks, out of tim hendrick, out of people from motherfucking legend of korra and avatar: the last airbender. the pacing of s4 is embarrassing.

3. getting too much into the current situation of the show, and forgetting about set-up.

after s1, 2, and 3, (particularly 2 and 3) people were making up theories, pulling from shot composition, pulling from hints. and guess what?! a lot of it paid off, or started to pay off! you know why? when writing s1, 2, and 3, every aspect of the writing (characters, plot, dialogue, etc) and even the film language referenced each other. voltron: legendary defender, across its first two seasons, established a subset of film language of its own. it’s because of that devotion to referencing past events and aspects of the show that things like @koganya​ ‘s massive klance masterposts could be made and believed. s4 is fundamentally not a vld season because it forgot its own fucking language. there’s no clever shot composition, no clever reference to past events or episodes, nothing. it’s so fucking flat. i don’t know what happened, but we got s3 - which spent the entire time pretty much worshipping its own film language to hint at stuff and then we got s4 - where the writers got tunnel vision of their own plot-related visions of grandeur that they forgot to write a season of voltron: legendary defender. this is so fucking ignorant of their own fucking show. fuck!!!

okay thanks for reading and please share!! this guide can help when critiquing the show and since there’s gonna be a lot of that then i feel it’s super important to have these posts!!

[deepfriedtwinkie]

Kingsman: A Trainee’s Mission (Pt. VI)

PREQUEL FIC, this section ~2kw

note: this is the only part without any Merlin in it BUT IT’S IMPORTANT FOR LATER OKAY (don’t cry, Harry will think you don’t like him)

pt. I  | pt. II  | pt. III  | pt. IV  | pt. V

.

.

By now, the compound has been home for so long that Harry is almost enamored to see London again. It’s easy to forget how much he loves these streets, the shops, the throngs of people going about their days. Easy to forget, but easier to remember.

He walks primly at the elbow of his proposing agent, a man named Martin Turner. The same who’d first met him as a ten-year-old, enthralling him with images of the world of gentleman spies. A world he’d never known to be real, until then, even with what his mother did for a living. Gentlemen were a much rarer breed in her work, after all. Some of her stories could turn a woman to the nunnery.

As Agent Lamorak, Martin has been kept away for nearly the whole of Harry’s training so far, busy with some mission or other, always jet-setting this way or that. They’ve spoken only a couple of times, but it’s no bother. Obviously, it’s more than understandable. All the more reason to take him up on his sudden invitation, delivered in person this morning in the training room, clear out of the blue.

They enter the tailor shop, Martin holding the door. Harry smiles, hands in his pockets, taking in the atmosphere for the first time through a proper candidate’s eyes. His last visit here felt like a new world. This time, it feels like coming home. He’s quite ready to get used to that feeling.

“’Morning, Simons,” Martin greets the headtailor.

“Good morning to you, sir.” The old man’s only movement seems to be the quiver of his mustache. “May I be of assistance to you gentlemen?”

“Yes, in fact, you may, Simons.” Martin’s head tips toward him. “I’d like for you to meet Harry Hart, my proposal for one of the open positions.”

As he was raised to do, Harry gives his hand, and the headtailor accepts. They shake. “How do you do, sir,” Harry says with a smile.

“Very well, thank you.”

“Simons here is nothing less than the best this business has got, Harry,” Martin boasts. “You’ll be taken good care of with him.”

“Oh, I have no doubt, sir.”

Then he blinks so rapidly he may have to blame the mothballs.

“Wait, sir… ‘Taken care of?’”

Simons politely withdraws his hand, which is fine, because it leaves Harry’s free to drop to his side like the dead weight it is. The way Martin is looking at him makes him wonder if perhaps there’s a television camera hidden somewhere, and his own expression will be plastered on newsstands and billboards by morning.

“You didn’t think I’d let you finish out the program without your own Kingsman souvenir, did you?” Martin grins. “The hell with that. It’s time you were fitted for your first proper bespoke. Unless you object, of course.”

“No sir!” Well, that could have been less of a yelp. He swallows, tempers himself, and tries again, managing formality despite his whole face splitting ear-to-ear. “I mean…no, sir. Thank you, sir. I’d be quite honored.”

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.” The agent points to a heavy door of oak, off to Harry’s left. Simons comes out from behind the counter, a cloth tape measure hung over his shoulder, and Martin claps him on the back. “Give him the works now. This young man is our honored guest.”

“Of course, sir.” Simons does his best impersonation of a five-star doorman, motioning Harry into the room. “This way, please, Mr. Hart. Fitting room one.”

It’s the last thing on earth he’d have to be asked twice. He hustles forward, grateful it doesn’t turn into a cartwheel.

“I’ll be out here when you’re through,” Martin calls.

The fitting room is one of the plainest cubicles of space ever knocked together by man, little more than patterned wallpaper, brass hooks, and varnished wainscoting, but it takes Harry all of four seconds to decide that he loves it every bit as much as the rest of the place. He’s patient with Simons’s meticulous taking of his measurements, lifting arms on command, turning this way and that, holding various swatches of fabric to his chest for God knows how long. That’s the difference between the Kingsman Tailors and anywhere else. When he works here, he’s going to have to do something kind for Simons. A thank-you note, perhaps, with something for his trouble inside. Cinema tickets or something. It’s terribly kind of him to go out of his way for this.

In good time, the tailor excuses himself, returning moments later with a garment bag draping both tabled arms. “Try this, sir,” he bids, hanging the bag on one of the hooks. “It should give you a fair idea. If you find it’s to your liking, then we will proceed with alterations.”

He’s never stared so reverently at a bag before. “Thank you… Thank you kindly.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

This is it. This is the moment he’s imagined since he was a ten-year-old boy, pinning horrible drawings of suits between the butterflies on his walls. The concrete start of his new life.

The garment bag is shed to the floor before Simons is even fully gone. His brain suggests some analogy to a chrysalis, but he can’t be bothered to spare a thought to connect it. He strips to briefs and socks, dressing quickly, his back turned staunchly to the mirror. Stealing a glance too soon will ruin something about this. He isn’t sure what, but it matters.

In a moment, it’s done. He feels the places that need taking in—cuffs at his knuckles, rumpled elbows, puddles at his feet—but he doesn’t care. It’s the most comfortable thing in the world.

He turns around.

The suit is blue, he notices properly. A very, very dark navy blue. Fine pinstripes crawl the length of it. Simons has picked him a tie to match. Navy, with a slim white stripe, centered with a slimmer note of red. He takes in the two rows of handmade buttons. The press of the lapel.

Harry blinks the blur from his eyes. It is the most exquisite thing he’s ever worn.

We’ve done it, Mother. I wish you could see your boy now.

He’s making a mental note to phone her as soon as possible when another tap comes on the door. “Pardon me, sir. Agent Lamorak requests to have a look, if you’ll oblige coming out for a moment.”

He’s absolutely bursting to show someone, anyway. Lamorak will do wonderfully for now. Harry turns the heavy knob, consciously matching his stride to the elegance a suit like this commands. His expression, on the other hand, is under no such control.

Martin stands from the couch, letting out a long whistle. “You’ve outdone yourself, Simons. A few tucks and it’s a work of art.”

“Very kind of you to say, sir.”

“And this comes in the lot, yes?”

“Already ordered to your specifications, sir.”

“You’re a fucking gem.” Martin smiles Harry’s way, holding out a finger with each next word. “Bulletproof, water-resistant, flame-resistant, and conceals up to thirteen highly-classified armaments. There’ll be nothing you can’t do in this, believe you me.”

He believed it already. In front of the showroom mirror, Harry gives a crisp tug to the jacket, straightening his posture even further than it was to begin with. “I really don’t know what to say, sir. I can’t possibly thank you enough; I know this isn’t typical for only a candidate…”

“Nonsense. You’ve earned it.” His mentor takes a pull from a rock glass he’s been holding. Gin, it looks like. “Your weapons and written test scores were absolutely phenomenal.”

Yes, they were, weren’t they? He can’t help it. He’s had a feeling.

“And I’m not permitted to tell you specifics, but I can say that you’ve earned Arthur’s attention on almost every one of your practical tasks.”

That reminds him to ask. He makes eye contact through the mirror, rather than twist round in the suit. “If I may, sir, what was in those parcels we retrieved on the mountain, anyway?”

“In the envelopes? Those were floppy disks.” Swallowing another sip, Martin makes quotations with his hands. “‘Encrypted files of critical importance to international security.’ That’s this year’s bullshit for ‘Arthur’s Doctor Who fan club mailing list.’ Gives him an excuse for missing the last fifteen meetings.”

“You’re kidding.” Of course he isn’t.

“Of course I’m not.”

Why did I ask?

He’s basking in the jovial moment until Martin’s demeanor goes stony, his gaze laser-focused through the window. His tone changes in the drop of a hat.

“Harry, do as I say. Whatever you do, don’t counteract or seem suspicious,” he mutters levelly. “Time to prove your place in the family business.”

The miniature bell above the door jingles. In comes a portly man in an expensive windbreaker, lighting directly on Lamorak. Harry watches, indifferent neutrality on his face, as the newcomer ignores Simons entirely, no acknowledgment—sorry, Simons, he’d do well to remember you’re a person, too—and instead, steps up to grasp Lamorak’s hand.

They shake cordially. “Mr. Kuznetsov,” Lamorak’s far brighter with his greeting than he might’ve been. “On schedule as always.”

“Mr. Evansbee.” An alias; his name is Turner. And this man’s accent is Russian. “How could I miss one of our treasured conversations?” Lamorak set this meeting. Not the first, or the tenth, either. What kind of conversations?

“Please, allow me to introduce a star pupil of mine from the university. I’m helping him to look his finest when he represents us at St. Hugh’s next month. Oliver Greene, this is Mr. Kuznetsov, one of my trustworthiest colleagues.”

Harry doesn’t need a cue. Seamlessly he adopts his new self, shaking the hand he’s offered. “How do you do, sir.”

“I get by.”

He sends Lamorak the most innocuous look he’s got. “Shall I leave you to it, Professor? You’ve been more than enough help already.”

It’s the right decision. Nothing he gets in return suggests a forthcoming reprimand. “Yes, good lad, Oliver. You can go and get your things. I’ll see you in lecture on Monday.”

“Very good, sir. Lovely to meet you, Mr. Kuznetsov.”

“The pleasure is all mine, of course.”

Whatever you do, don’t counteract. His only move is to beeline for the fitting room, then, the outing finished just as quick as it began. The last he sees of Martin, he’s hooked an arm around the Russian’s shoulders, leading the way to the sofas, carrying on a lively discussion in whispers.

So this trip was no coincidence. Harry is implicitly careful as he removes each piece of his suit, hanging one at a time for Simons to collect. He isn’t disappointed. It should have occurred to him from this morning. Whatever Lamorak’s working on must be drawing to a close.

Besides. He could have met the contact here alone. No part of that required having a custom suit made.

Be grateful you were invited in the first place, and don’t ask why it’s over.

Well. He can’t make promises about the second part.

“Good-bye, Simons,” he says aloud near the exit, after saying a silent one to the suit in the fitting room. “I’ve left everything sorted for you.”

“Wonderful, sir. Good-bye.” It’s almost their last exchange, until the tailor catches himself. “Oh, and one more thing, sir?” He’s scribbling in a leather folder.

Harry stops, halfway through the door jamb, hoping it doesn’t count as counteraction. “Yes?”

Simons looks up, beaming friendliness. “I’ve located your file with us to store your measurements. Isn’t today your birthday, sir?”

Yes, it is. He’s all but forgotten that for the past ten minutes.

Harry smiles back. “Twenty-first,” he confirms.

“Happy birthday, sir.”

It’s certainly shaping up to be.

.

pt. VII  | pt. VIII  | pt. IX

[chickenfetus]

ALL!!!! (also the gemini sqUAD LOL)

im gonna enjoy a nice cup of water while doing this bc idk a tea (update i didnt drink water at all and now im dying of thirst,, also undercut bc many)

1: Golden mornings or peachy sunsets?

i dont wake up early enough to see the sunrise and when i do i never manage to take pics bc of school so peachy sunsets

2: Sugar cones or waffle cones?

idk what a sugar cone is but i like waffle cones!!! havent eaten ice cream with a cone in forever though,, i rarely eat ice cream now

3: Do you wear scarves often? do you have a favorite?

listen…. its about 33 degrees everyday but even if im in a colder country i dont wear scarves

4: How long do you lay in bed before you finally get up?

this depends?? on how motivated im feeling lmao never more than 10 minutes though because if i lay awake for that long ill just fall back asleep

5: Is there a food you’ve never had but always wanted to try?

i dont think so?? im bad at trying new things especially food

6: What does your umbrella look like?

i dont.. go outside often and whenever i do i take public transport so basically everythings sheltered so i never had a need for umbrellas

7: Do you listen to ASMR?

ive only listened to one everybody please listen to this gift

8: Rain storms or a light drizzle?

both, preferably when im indoors

9: What’s a little thing in life that you love?

hm??????????? my tags lmao 

UPDATE: i also really like reading other people’s tags and their rambles that is all

10: Favorite color aesthetic?

does the word aesthetic make this question any different from a normal favourite colour question???? if it doesnt then sky blue 

11: Wobbly lines or using a ruler?

in this house we draw lines with no ruler like men (but also because even if i did use a ruler it wouldnt be like… straight idk i cant use rulers

12:  Bright colorful living room or neutral cozy living room?

neutral cozy living room but i also love basking in sunlight 

13: Do you have any candles? what scents are they?

im not a big fan of heavy smelling products so i dont own any candles

14: Have you ever rode a horse?

i dont think so??????? ive seen horses before though

15: Do you have glasses?

without my glasses i wouldnt be able to read these questions lmao and . .. theyre also a result of watching pokemon too closely to the tv at a young age… its been like 10 years since i got glasses

16: What’s a language you’d like to speak?

japanese i tried speaking it but i got 2 embarrassed to say anything properly while i was in japan (i cant even speak english properly to a friend whyd i think i could speak another language to a stranger beats me) 

17: What’s your favorite season and favorite month in that season?

my singaporean no season ass: ? but autumn and november (is this cutting it too close to winter? idk my seasons)

18: Do you have a favorite pair of socks?

hm not really i just wear blue ankle socks a lot but my friend did give me a pair of pokemon and gudetama socks before and i adore those although i lost the gudetama ones in the uk last year she got me another pair whatd i do to deserve her?

19: Favorite Ghibli and/or disney movie

m .. um? big. hero 6?????? 

20: Disney, Dreamworks, or Pixar?

my dumb ass didnt know they were different

21: What snacks do you usually get at the theater?

i rarely go and watch movies anymore but when i did watch a lot of movies with my friend at the theater we’d get afternoon shows and sneak mcdonalds in lmao

22: What’s an underrated video game/ movie/ show you love and think it needs more recognition?

how about band? day6 i only ever play pokemon + sif + bandori so i cant say much and i rarely watch movies and a show? if its an anime id say the one i mentioned before in my one text post 

23: Would you fill your house with plants if you had a green thumb?

not really rip 

24; All plants are great but do you have a favorite?

HM mmmmmm there was this one but i forgot the name lmao pass

25: Do you have a favorite type of art style? (eg: soft looking, no to little color, sketches, crisp and clean, minimalist, pixel art etc.)

when im the … audience? what do u call it???? i like seeing all kinda of art styles!!! everyone has their own unique art style and i love it all :o

for ME,, , ive been doing art for 6 years maybe and i still cant do shit

26: What would you do if someone gave you flowers?

i would die straight up die thats such a soft concept i cant imagine myself receiving flowers thats 2 sweet oh my god wtf id combust??? i prefer leaves though is that weird i picked some nice leaves recently and im gonna give those to my friends

27: Do you like nicknames?

giving and having nicknames is my favorite past time

28: Do you still watch shows you watched when you were a kid? even from time to time?

pokemon lmao thank u 4 not ending it…. the animation has only improved and im so proud to have been watching it since the start pokemon is my special thing i love it so much!! an interest that never died down, with an anime that stays super like idk to my preference? i tried watching the new digimon stuff but i just couldnt :^( im glad they made ash stay the main character 

29: Do you still like old memes? (tell the truth)

never forget dat boi

30: Favorite Halloween costume you dressed up as? (if you don’t celebrate halloween have you ever cosplayed or would you like to? who did you cosplay as?)

we dont celebrate halloween and i would never cosplay, big shoutout to cosplayers though!!! they put in so much effort and just, respect!!!!! 

i dont know if this is an actual memory because i dont remember well but when i was younger i thiNK? i had to dress up as a swan thing i have no clue i dont even remember the performance but i might have had to ?? and dance??? or act i dont remember everythings fuzzy but i dressed up a swan once? in kindergarten ????? 

31:  Are you a fashionable person?

i have the worst fashion sense and even though jeans are nice once again the weather here doesnt allow me to be as fashionable as i can be

32: Do you like watching holiday movies?

not realyyy??? the jack frost (rip) movie was ncie????

33:  Cookies or brownies?

i live 4 chocolate chip cookies but too much is . . not preferable

34: Do you blow in the cold air just to see your breath?

no i hate breathing in & out from my mouth

35: Do you find the crickets chirping outside your window relaxing?

WELL from the great cockroach ordeal last night id probably die bc we live in an apartment building so the only way id be hearing crickets would be if they were in the ROOM 

36: Do you like cobblestone streets?

my only knowledge of cobblestone is from minecraft so idk

37:  How often do you doodle?

when school was still relevant i would doodle as soon as i picked up a pencil lmao i try not to anymore bc i doodled on my math assignment and forgot to fucking erase it and my math teacher called me out

38: When was the last time you blew bubbles?

a year ago?? i dont remember but i do remember when i was younger id try and blow bubbles at the void deck do yall kno what that is its just a space near the lift lobby anyway i swallowed the soap thing idk u know how ur supposed to blow? well i sucked the soap in yum

39: What’s your favorite random piece of decor in your house and room?

in my room its the bed and in the house its the water bottle that contains water

40: Do you bite your fingernails off or clip them more often?

i………………………… i dont actualy kno how to clip my nails and my mum would kill me if i tried but i dont bite my nails either

41: Any birthmarks?

not that i know of

42: Thoughts on freckles?

ive never actually seen someone with freckles in public before but theyre good stuff i gueess?? i dont actually have an opinion on them? everyone says theyre cute and all but im just ??? not that i hate freckles tho if u have freckles? thats cool! 

43: First video game you ever played?

pokemon pearl?? either that or megaman on my ps3 OR the bomb square guy????? idk the game name but.. ya

44: what type of bird do you hear most often outside your door?

i dont know what the bird species are but theyre small black birds not crows idk

45: Do you use gifs/ memes a lot when replying to people?

memes yes gifs no bc im not lame like jen

46: Thoughts on spring?

no comment?? i mean? its nice??????? i guess ??? if we had a spring

47: Ideal temperature outside?

oh boy 20 degrees would be enough for me but its never gotten that low before sunny island’s life

48: Cloudy, partly cloudy, or clear skies?

i like clear skies when its bright! but not too sunny and not too warm!!!!! clouds are nice to look at too though

49: How often do you hear airplanes outside?

yeah we live near an airport i dont think anybody uses????

50: Do you enjoy windy days?

windy days are my SHIT back in school our basketball court was open spaced and whenevr wind blew we could feel it man thats the life right there but i hate windy days when im sitting at home bc it flows the curtains rigth into my face i like the feel of the wind and the smell of fresh air but… curtains in my face? not 2 great so rip i close all the windows lmao

okay thank u so much 4 asking falen i love you and wow this was a lot

[essayofthoughts]

Prompt: Classic Regency AU: Family/Benefactors have decide that is Time For Wanda To Be Married. The twins strongly disagree. They each do their damndest to chase away prospective suitors. Bucky is fascinated/entertained by the ensuing drama and proposes himself as a solution. Could be an entirely platonic arrangement, Winterwitch with a side of Bucky/Pietro broing, or full on incesty OT3. Dealer's choice.

So. Um.

You sent this in more than a month ago.

Oops?

Send me fic prompts!

AO3 Mirror.

i.People turn from Wanda and the scarlet at her fingertips. They do not turn from Pietro. Wanda wishes it were otherwise, some days - so does Pietro, if only so his sister was no so pained - but this is the way of the world: Pietro is a man, and so people look gladly to his power. Wanda is a woman, and so people fear so much power in her hands.

Pietro runs ahead of the hunt, never astride a horse, for what horse could be as fast as his own legs? He can race past a stag, grab it’s antlers, wrestle it into the ground before any man has his gun aimed. He can catch ducks and doves from the air, he races the hounds and past them, does dancing acrobatics that none can match and his strength and his speed are seen as no more than his right, for he is a man.

Wanda is a woman, and so she goes to the women’s meetings. When the women with powers are asked to come forward, to show their gifts, Wanda holds a cataclysm in her hands and they cower.

ii.“I would that it were otherwise,” Pietro whispers to her. They are sitting in the windowseat watching the rain. She leans against him, his fingers stroke gently over her hair. “That they judge you for this… whatever gives us our powers, heredity, some nameless god… you have your powers. You bear that burden. No one else can do it in your place.”

Wanda closes her eyes, tilts her head further against his chest and shoulder. “They do not see that, though,” she whispers back. “They see a woman with power, and they fear her.”

iii.Wanda will never have a spouse, she has known this since they were ten years and six months old and she had woken screaming from a nightmare. Pietro’s eyes had been wide and as bright as the blue that chased him as he dashed to her, Laura’s eyes had been wide and watchful when she had come in and passed through the scarlet without fear.

Others fear her. Everyone fears her. Even Clint fears her, the kindest guardian they could wish for.

(He does not fear her for her though, and that helps some days, knowing his fear stems more from another’s actions and the potential of her power than for anything she has yet done or that he thinks she might truly do.)

(It still hurts though, that of all the uncounted lives in the world, only two have never feared her.)

Wanda will never have a spouse, no matter if she wants one, for there are none with the power and mind to match her.

iv.“I would that it were otherwise,” Laura tells her as they sit there sewing. Laura sews one piece of embroidery, perfect in every stitch, arrows wrapped in hyacinths and feathers around the edge of a handkerchief and Wanda, linked into her mind and the patterns of her stitches, sews half-a-dozen more, floating scarlet making many out of one. “They fear you and that you might do to them as they would to you, if they had your power.”

“They do not know me,” Wanda says softly. “And if they act like this, think like that, they never will.”

Laura’s hand is gentle on Wanda’s when she sets down her needle and thread. “One day,” she promises. “One day you will have someone who can match you.”

Wanda has long grown skilled at hiding the doubts she feels.

v.Pietro hunts with the local men. Some very very few of them are gifted, and of them, some far fewer are near as gifted as he and his sister. There is Vision gifted creation of imprecisely-gifted Mr Stark of the next town over. A creation of Mr Stark and another creation and another creation, an amalgam of made things that is infinitely more than his parts. There is James - “Bucky,” he says, “Please.” - a man with as many scars in his mind as on his skin, and a missing arm filled in by well-crafted metal and magic.

Wanda goes to the women’s meetings and listens to people telling her to be demure and to be kind, to learn all these women’s arts - painting and singing, an instrument and sewing and perhaps a little theology and of course, always, a touch of wit, but not enough to shame the men. Wanda looks at the scarlet curling out of her fingers, the cataclysm she can hold in the palm of her hand, and wants to laugh. What good do these skills do her, once she has learned them, if people still fear her gift?

Sometimes she wonders: Is it even a gift?

vi.“I would that it were otherwise,” says Clint, “But the people of the town are starting to talk. That you are too powerful, too untamed by any man, that you are a burden to us and that you shame us, that you have us under some magical charm or spell and that someone must take you in hand before you must be killed.”

Wanda looks at the palms of her hands, at the scarlet that loops around her wrists and creeps up her fingers and coils out of her palms and fingertips like snakes and vines and swinging ropes of power. “I would that it were otherwise too,” she whispers. “I do not know how to salvage this.”

vii.Pietro has always been dedicated to one thing more than anything else: the protection of his sister. When their powers had first burst out of them, when they had first realised how people would fear all Wanda’s deceptively simple scarlet could do, Pietro had danced into the spotlight and claimed it, pulled it to himself and his new gift so people would not notice the wisps of scarlet in Wanda’s hands as she fought to control the boundless skein of twisting reality in her palms. When they had grown and Wanda’s powers had been known by all he had helped her prove them to be helpful and harmless, catching those who fell, stitching clothes back to perfection, a waved hand putting right an askew hat.

But he cannot protect her from this, this fear of the cataclysm Wanda can hold, and so he will protect Wanda from the people who fear in whatever way he can.

“My sister,” he says to his friends. “There is much gossip in fear of her. I cannot imagine why, there is none more kindly than she.”

viii.“I would that this were otherwise,” Vision Stark tells her when they meet. “That this was not…” he pauses, looks around the room to the corner where chaperone Pietro is pointedly engrossed in his book rather than his job.

“So awkward?” Wanda fills in with a smile. “I do not think Pietro means either of us any harm. At the least, I know he would never see me harmed, so he must not think you a threat to me.”

Vision tilts his head, watches her. “I do not think we could be threats to each other,” he says, turning a hand that fades to near-invisibility as he shows the intangibility he is so famed for. “There are few quite so powerful as we.”

Ah, Wanda thinks. So this is why Pietro believes in this one. 

Someone so close to her own power that they have no reason to fear.

ix.Wanda looks to her brother at dinner, watches him closely as he speeds around the table, fetching rolls for Cooper and a ladleful more soup for Lila and waits until the Bartons go to settle in the drawing room before drawing him aside.

She does not need to speak for him to know why she does this. He does not need to speak for her to know his defence. Wanda sighs.

“Next time,” she says, “Some forewarning, my brother?”

x.“I would that this were otherwise,” James Buchanan Barnes - “Bucky,” he says, “Please.” - says to her. “But your brother has explained to us the problem, and I do not think he cares to see you hurt.”

“You are his friend,” Wanda says to him. “Do you think he would see you safe from harm as well?”

Bucky’s smile is small and clever, his eyes seeing far more than just the surface of things. “Perhaps,” he says. “But not as safe as he would see you.”

This man’s mind is scarred, whitewash flaking slowly from hidden memories, his metal-and-magic arm whirring softly at his side, as attentive and reactive as a limb of flesh and blood. Wanda wonders if it is made as Vision Stark was made, some mingling of science and the ephemeral powers so many gifted have but cannot fully pin down.

“You do not fear me,” she says, frowning and confused. “After all you have been through and after all my brother has told you of what I can do. Why is that?”

Bucky turns his hand of metal and magic, lets gears whirr and shimmers of energy wisp out as he flexes his fingers as though stretching muscles. “After all I have been through,” he says, “I know I can survive.”

xi.Wanda knows what Pietro intends with this. Safety crafted from nothing but his will and his friends and a choice offered to her of whom she might pick, all parties aware of why this is arranged in the first place.

Wanda bound to someone who would not making it binding, but who is powerful enough, strong enough, that others will think her tamed.

Wanda sits on her bed, holds a cataclysm in her hands, and thinks.

xii.“I would that this were otherwise,” she says to Bucky when he has risen from his knee. “I would that we were not so bound because others decided I had to be. That we had a chance to know one another properly before rushing into this.”

Bucky’s hand is gentle on hers, metal-and-magic thumb running over the metal-and-magic ring he had offered her.

“We may still get to know one another,” he says. “I do not see why not.”

[echobasegazette]

Star Wars: A New Adventure

Two new Star Wars movies have been released since the last time that I wrote an article on my all-time favorite franchise, and I’ve decided that it is finally time to take a long hard look at the newest entries to the franchise and see if they really hold water.  

Several people have asked me why I never did a review on the two new films, and for those wondering here is the answer: I did not feel that I could provide an unbiased review of any film in this franchise because I just love it too much! In any review I’d write, I would either fawn all over the film or pick at things that the average viewer wouldn’t have noticed. And if I read a review that was overly picky, I know it would color my judgment of an otherwise watchable movie. So, I have saved my praise and condemnations for this article, where I can profess my love for the new films and pick them apart.

For those of you who haven’t seen these movies, I will warn you that you will find spoilers, but I will properly label each section, so if you’ve only seen one of the two films you can still read half of the article. Additionally, if you haven’t seen one or both of these two films, go see them now.

This is my official Star Wars Ranking: (First to worst)

1.       Empire Strikes Back

2.       Star Wars (A New Hope)

3.       Rogue One

4.       Return of the Jedi

5.       The Force Awakens

6.       Revenge of the Sith

7.       Attack of the Clones

8.       The Phantom Menace

Star Wars: Episode 7 – The Force Awakens

I of course saw this film as a midnight release (well it was at 10pm on a Thursday but I’m going to call it a midnight release). My four-man group arrived at the movie theater two hours early to ensure that we would get good seats, and we ended up being the first four people inside. I remember having a combination of both high and low expectations; low because the prequels were bad and high because the trailers looked great. I was pretty sure that J.J. Abrams (who is a huge fan of the franchise) wouldn’t mess it up after his successful Star Trek films. Overall, I thought The Force Awakens was a solid, watchable film that had lot of solid aspects.

Things I liked:

·         The lightsaber fights – the scenes felt like traditional Star Wars lightsaber scenes. The flipping and fast action of the prequels was pretty cool but it felt too frantic and almost draining to watch.

·         The movie had light-hearted humor that was a lot more natural than in the prequels.

·         Tension – I was actually worried about the fate of the characters, whether they’d live or die, and what would happen to them in the future. The prequels lacked this same tension because the fate of the characters was already predetermined.

·         I really liked the new characters. Rey is a multi-faceted character, and her parentage promises to be the next big Star Wars reveal. Finn also has potential and held my interest throughout the film, even though it looks like he will be starting Episode VIII in a coma. I also enjoyed Poe Dameron, the newer version of Wedge Antilles (Wedge is an X-Wing pilot that is in all three movies and a major character in the expended universe and it would be cool for Disney to bring him and Lando into the new movies) and I hope they really develop this character.

·         The sets for The Force Awakens were grittier and darker than prequels. Episodes I, II and III seemed too perfect and neat, almost less “real” when compared with the atmosphere of the new films.

Things I didn’t like:

Derivative

This is the best way to describe the plot of the Episode VII: If I saw Star Wars: A New hope, as an 11-year-old and then imagined what my Star Wars adventure would be like, it would be the plot of The Force Awakens. I’m stranded on a deserted planet, and I steal the Millennium Falcon to escape. Along the way I shoot down some TIE Fighters and bump into Han Solo, who offers to make me his second mate. Together we travel to a seedy bar where we meet some crazy looking aliens and get tangled up with the Empire. I learn about the Force and wield a lightsaber against a poor man’s Darth Vader. Afterwards I travel to a new world to start my force training with the ultimate, Luke Skywalker. So yes, the movie was good but it was basically a remake of Episode IV, without being a remake.

New Planets & Aliens

When Disney purchased Lucas Arts, one of the first things they did was remove the Expanded Universe (EU) from the Star Wars cannon. For those of you who aren’t Star Wars nerds, the EU made up the stories and characters that were created in the Star Wars books, comic books, and video games. Disney essentially eliminated these stories and made all of them irrelevant. I completely understand why they did this, and if you just paid $4.2 billion for a franchise, you probably wouldn’t want to be bound by the countless stories that already existed either. But why do they have to create entirely new planets and aliens too? Can’t they at least use some of the old ones that Star Wars fans are familiar with?

Humor

While some of the scenes in the movie possessed a natural humor that played well with the story line, other scenes seemed to force humor when there wasn’t really a need for it. One of the scenes that I felt was really well done involved Han Solo and Finn. Upon landing on Star Killer Base, Han asks Finn about the “plan”, and Finn responds, “We’ll use the Force.” Han Solo, now angry to find out that Finn made up the plan says, “That’s not how the Force works.” For me this scene was perfect, it had the quick relatable humor that seemed and the dialog seemed to flow naturally. One of the scenes I didn’t like was when the new rebels are discussing the plan to blow up Star Killer base and Han says, “There is got to be a way to blow it up, there always is.” To me this seemed like forced humor and really removed the seriousness of the situation.

Lightspeed

In the Star Wars books, lightspeed had specific rules. You couldn’t go into lightspeed if you were inside of a star or planet’s gravity well, and you couldn’t jump to lightspeed from inside of a star ships hanger bay. But apparently in this film, those rules no longer apply. This kind of has an effect on how space battles might be fought. Wouldn’t the rebels just run away any time they couldn’t win, and wouldn’t the First Order do the same thing? I am probably a huge nerd for even caring about this, and I am sure the Star Wars movies will always still have space battles, but I must admit that I was annoyed about this because it contradicted a cool quote from Han Solo in a New Hope, “Traveling through hyperspace ain’t like dusting crops boy, without precise calculations we could fly right through a super nova or too close to a black hole and that would injure something real quick.”

Star Killer Base

Star Killer Base is really lame and was probably one of things that bothered me most.  It’s essentially a planet killing weapon that’s built into a planet and uses the power of a star, draining that star in the process? So, what happens when the star is completely drained? Is Star Killer now useless? Does it even have the ability to move? A lot of details are never really explained, and let’s be serious, it’s a complete rip off of the Death Star.

 Star Wars: Rogue One

I am not old enough to have seen the original trilogy in theaters, but I was around when the prequel trilogy was released, and waiting three years for the next installment is not a fun wait. Disney decided to fix this problem when they bought the franchise with a plan to release new Episodes every two years with standalone stories in between. This means that every year for the foreseeable future, we get to experience a new Star Wars adventure!  But exactly what stories were they going to tell? The first one that was released was the story of how the rebels got their hands on the Death Star plans, essentially serving as a prequel to A New Hope.

I will admit that I really enjoyed this movie and thought that it was a much better film than The Force Awakens. As I said earlier the thing that I liked most about the original trilogy was the grittiness, and this film had it in spades.  Rogue One was also much better with the comic relief than Episode VII, and overall felt like a more natural flowing storyline. Because I liked this film more, I’ll switch it up and quickly list the points I didn’t like and expand on my favorite parts.

Things I didn’t like:

·         The use of lightspeed is just as bothersome in this movie as it was in The Force Awakens

·         More new aliens, including that crazy Bor Gullet thing that reads your thoughts – creepy!

·         I am not sure if I like or don’t like that the new movies put a small label in the corner every time a new planet is introduced…I will get back to you on this one.

·         There was no opening scene story crawl? What the hell?! This is one of the things that make Star Wars movies, Star Wars movies. Why did they get rid of it?

·         The Guardians of the Whills. For those who aren’t crazy fans, the Whills were part of the original concept of the Force. Lucas got rid of this aspect early in the development of Episode IV, and they haven’t appeared in any of the other films…until now. I wish they would have just kept them out of the story.

·         As I stated earlier, I don’t like that Disney is creating new planets, and the worst of all is Jedha. According to Rogue One, Jedha is a major planet for the Jedi but it doesn’t show up until this movie? It just doesn’t make sense and isn’t necessary.

Things I liked:

Old Characters Return

One of the main villains of this film is Grand Moff Tarkin, who is played by Peter Cushing in both this film and A New Hope. Peter Cushing died in 1994, and because this film takes place directly before A New Hope it wouldn’t have really worked to have a different actor play this character. Disney recreated him using digital technology, and for the most part this was generally well done. The voice worked sounded great and most of the time his character looked very realistic.

On top of bringing back Grand Moff Tarkin, they also brought back some of the more obscure characters. During the final space battle, the rebels show up to battle in X-Wings and Y-Wings to take on the Empire, and Disney used the pilots from A New Hope. If you look closely, you will recognize the pilots of the Red and Gold Squadron. However, the same technique was used for a final scene involving Princess Leia, and that felt too cheesy. Leia was only really used to show that the next scene would be the opening of A New Hope and they didn’t really need to show her face to get that message across.

Space Battle

The final space battle was freaking awesome! There were Rebel capitol ships duking it out with Star Destroyers. TIE fighters, X-Wings and Y-Wings were dogfighting for control of the sky. Finally, Vader and the Devastator show up to mop up the pesky rebels. Scenes like this are one of the reasons I love Star Wars films, and there have really only been two major space battles shown on screen before: the final battle in Return of the Jedi, which is epic, and the opening battle of Revenge of the Sith, which was lame because you knew there was no chance that Anakin or Obi-Wan were going to die. Hopefully future movies will have even more epic space battles!

SPOILER: Everyone Died!

Rogue One did a nice job of developing a new cast of characters for this film. Jyn Erso is the daughter of an Imperial Science officer, Cassian Andor is the Rebel Intelligence officer who is forced to do things he doesn’t like for the sake of the Rebel cause, and Saw Gerrera is a disillusioned Rebel Leader who has lost his way in his war with the Empire. Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus are guardians of the Whills who join the rebel cause, and they even added some comic relief with the presence of a rebel owned Imperial Droid, K-2SO.

Halfway through the movie I started to wonder, what is going to happen to these characters? Is Disney really going to kill everyone? None of the characters are in IV, V or VI so there really isn’t anything that they could do except kill them. But would they really spend $265 million developing characters just to kill them off? Are they going to keep them alive and develop a whole new series with these characters appearing in movies set around the original trilogy? Well I didn’t have to wonder about this for very long. By the end of the film every one of these characters was dead, and as much as I enjoyed getting to know them, it was the right way to end the movie.

Female Leads

This is really more of a “like” for both movies because they both have strong, lead female characters. The original trilogy only really has one female character, Princess Leia, and most other women are just in the background. The prequels included a few more women, but again, none of them were leads while Padme was a supporting character at best. But having no female leads won’t work in the new post 2010 world, so the new movies fixed this!  Both films have females in leading roles which helps make the film more appealing to the masses and makes the films easier to watch with girlfriends and wives.

 Overall, I am generally excited about the new direction of the Star Wars world. There are a lot of things to like in these new movies with expanded and parallel storylines and new actors and actresses. Disney has also avoided adding a Jar Jar Binks character who all Star Wars fans love to hate. There are still a handful of things that I don’t like, but I am willing to suffer through them so that I can continue enjoying the franchise that I love.  Luckily, Disney hasn’t shit the bed yet.

The Movie Guy