#listen there's nothing comedic about war I know

[thatscarletflycatcher]

De Gaulle's account of his leaving France:

"General Spears... said he would accompany me. I notified Mr. Paul Reynaud, who sent me, from the secret funds, one hundred thousand francs. I begged Mr. De Margerie the speedy dispatch of the necessary passports for the passage to England to my wife and children [reader, this is the very first time he mentions them], that were at the time at Carantec. They barely made it to the last ship leaving Brest. On June 17th, at 9a.m., I boarded, in the company of general Spears and lieutenant De Courcel, the British plane that had carried me over the night before. The leaving took place without romanticism or difficulties of any kind."

Churchill's account of De Gaulle leaving France:

"[General Spears] talked to me with some anxiety about the safety of general de Gaulle. He had apparently being warned that the turn events were taking made it convenient for de Gaulle to leave France. I immediately gave my assent for the preparation of a good plan towards that end. That very morning -of the 17th- de Gaulle went to his office in Bordeaux, scheduled several meetings for the afternoon as a pretext, and then headed towards the airplane field to say goodbye to his friend Spears. They said their farewells, they shook hands, and when the plane started, de Gaulle jumped in and closed the door swiftly. The plane took off while the French police and bureaucrats watched astonished. De Gaulle was taking with him, in that small plane, the honor of France."

(Again, translation mine through Spanish mediating text, so if there's bad grammar or discrepancies with versions you might have that's why)

[luimagines]

He Realizes You Like Him Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part two will include Warrior, Wind and Legend.

Content under the cut!

Warrior

To be honest here, Warrior has a warped perception when trying to figure out when someone likes him. Genuinely.

It was harder for him when he was just a boy and as a teenager it didn’t get any easier. Once the war had started it was easy to forget about it for the time being... that it until he leaned the reason for the war.

He realized that he didn’t like that kind of attention. But was that what happened when people liked each other? Was Cia only an extreme version, if genuine? Was she genuine?

He didn’t know. All Warrior knew was that he didn’t feel good when he learned about it and wanted to avoid it again if was within his power.

Now when he met you, he knew that he liked you. He tried to be nice and friendly and be your friend. At first. Then he came to the quiet acknowledgement that if there was a chance to be more than friends that he wouldn’t mind it.

But he had no idea if that was something that you would be up for.

“Are you gonna make a more or what?” Legend jabs him right under the ribs non to gently. “If you ask nicely, I bet you could ask for a picture. It’ll last longer.”

“Shut up.” Warrior swipes at him but it lacks any venom or power behind it. Legend dodges it easily. “They wouldn’t see me that way anyway.

That makes Legend pause. If Warrior was looking in his direction he would see that that Legend is not only looking at him like he’s grown three heads but also like he’s the biggest idiot in all of Hyrule.

“You’re joking right?” 

Warrior sighs. “Why would I be joking? We’re just friends... but there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Legend takes a moment to let that sink in before he pinches the bridge of his nose. ”Ok. Wait, so when you see them, do you get nervous or excited?”

Warrior finally looks at the Vet. “I mean... I like their company. I wouldn’t mind if they were next to me all the time. I like them. I like hanging out with them.”

“Answer the question.”

Warrior coughs. “I get excited.”

“I mean yeah- but they also seem to light up like a beacon whenever you see each other.”

Warrior blushes softly. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“They literally hung off of your arm for the entire morning.” Legend points out. “They hardly give hugs, let alone attach themselves to someone.”

That gives Warrior pause. He’s right. Warrior’s never seen you step outside of your comfort zone like that- but you were also holding onto him. He was so happy by it that he didn’t even notice it as different behavior.

“They also laugh at all your stupid jokes.”

“Excuse you, I’m a comedic genius.”

“Yeah- whatever. But you’re literally always around each other. Don’t you think that maybe they’re willing to hear you?”

Warrior doesn’t reply.

Legend won’t stand for him trying to justify this to himself in his head so he shoves Warrior behind a bush, not caring if he falls to the ground harshly or not and calls you over.

You jog over and Warrior stays hidden as he listen. Legend seems to have a smirk on his face. You don’t seem to notice. “What’s up Mr. Man?”

“Are you ever going to tell the Captain about your stupid giant crush?”

“SSHH!!!” You jump on him and cover Legend’s mouth with your hands. “Shut up! What if he hears you?!” 

Legend’s gets a knowing glint in his eyes. “Is that a no?”

“Shut up!” You flick his nose. “I’m thinking about it. I just... I know that he’s... His past is something that’s a tough subject and I don’t want to make things harder for him, you know?”

“Coward.”

“I’ll punch you.” You glare.

Legend waves you off and you roll your eyes as you leave. Legend takes a step back and looks back at Warrior who’s stuck, slacked jawed on the ground. “Better?”

Warrior nods.

Wind

Wind wasn’t actually paying that much attention when Wild elbowed him non too gently in the ribs.

Wind looks up to swipe at the young man for the jab but he’s cut off by Wild’s mischievous grin and a finger to his lips. Biting the loud retort that sits in the tip of his tongue, Wind glares up at Wild and crosses his arms. “What?”

“Look.” He whispers and gestures vaguely with his chin. Wind turns subtly and looks over with his eyes. You’re look down with a slight blush to your face. you seem very concentrated. 

Wind tries to follow your line of sight and sees that your looking at his hand. He’s confused. Why would you be looking at his hand? Why are you looking at it like it’s personally offended you?

He opens his mouth to ask you what’s up when Wild knocks into him again. In The back of his head, he’s amazed that you’re so concentrated on it to miss all of this. Wind glares up at Wild further. “What?”

Wild looks exasperated and rolls his eyes. He takes his hand and hooks it with his other one, pointing to you afterwards. Now Wild’s just being weird. Why doesn’t he just say it? Wind doesn’t get it.

Wild seems to see that and drops his voice even lower. “Hold their hand.”

“Why?” Wind whispers in reply.

Wild face palms. “Because they can’t do it. They’re been trying to for the past fifteen minutes!”

Wind looks back over to you and seem to catch on that you’ve been noticed. You flinch and move away. It looks like you’ve been embarrassed to have been caught despite thee fact you weren’t subtle at all. Wind takes your hand before he can even think about it.

“Oh..” You say and squeeze his hand a little tighter. You open, no doubt to speak again but nothing comes out of your mouth. Instead you smile brightly and swing your hands together a little bit, clearly happy to hold his hand.

Wind still doesn’t get it, but he smiles back at you. You’re cute.

Wild jabs him again and this time Wind actually takes a swipe at the boy.

Wild is undeterred. He gets a face splitting grin on his face and points to you. He mouths ’they like you’ and winks.

Wind furrows his eyebrows and looks back to you and tilts his head. He’d hope that you liked him. He likes you too. You’re really cool and nice and awesome-

You let go of his hand and instead hold onto his arm. You’re purposely looking away from him but you’re humming a happy tune, looking at anything and everything but him. You’re face is still pink.

Wind looks back to Wild who’s only grinning wider and winks again.

Oh.... Wind lets you hold onto him with a slight blush to his face. He thinks he gets it now.  He means like that... Um... Uh-oh... What does he do with this information?

Legend

“What do I do?! I really like him!”

Legend froze in his tracks and back tracked the last two.

That was your voice.

...Who do you really like? Exactly?... He’s just curious.

“You talk to him like a normal person?” Your (assumed) friend (unhelpfully) offers.

You seem to not like the answer and groan loudly. “You know I can’t do that!”

“There’s nothing difficult about this. Just say ‘hey, I found a flower. It matched you. Here.’ Done.”

“You make it sound so easy.” You whine and Legend’s heartstring get stung along with it. “I really really like him. I don’t think he even likes flowers. He has this massive collection of anything and everything but flowers!”

“Then tell him you noticed the lack of- and you’re offering to give him the first.” Your friend sounds tired. Legend gets the idea that you’ve either been having this conversation for a long time, you’ve come to them more once for this sort of conversation.

“Why did I come to you?! This isn’t working!” You cry out.

“I don’t know! You’re making this more complicated than it need to be!”

Legend frowns and begins to unstick his feet from where he was eavesdropping. His heart sinks somewhat.

Whoever it is that’s got you in such a tizzy is one lucky son of a gun, Legend admits to himself. He keeps walking through your little village, taking in the little sights and all. It’s quaint and quiet. It’s lovely. He can see how it influenced you to be the person you are.

Legend doesn’t want to think about his own feelings right now so he decides to check out the local lake and go fishing.

He stays there, thinking despite the fat that he’s there to not not think about what he overheard. You seemed so nervous. He’s never heard you so high-strung Well there were a few times. It happens with the work that they do. But never for something as simple as giving a flower.

You must really like this person.

He put his cheek in his palm, not bothering to care if nothing is biting his line. It’s not like he actually came here to fish.

Someone pokes his shoulder.

He blinks out of his trance and looks up.

You’re smiling at him. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”

Legend’s heart bobs without his permission but he smiles back at you. “Sure, go ahead.”

You smile brighter and take a seat next to him on the doc. Legend’s eyes dart to where your thighs are right next to each other, but he’s quick to divert to the lake once more.

“Um..” You start. “Lege... Link...”

Legend nearly lets his fishing rod slip from his grip. “...Yes?”

“Here.” You hold out a very small flower. It’s purple with dots of white splashed around the edges. “I thought you’re like this.”

“...oh...” Legend delicately takes the flower.

“...I noticed you didn’t have any flowers in your collections.” You say quietly. You try to smile wider to feign confidence. It would have sounded natural if he hadn’t heard what he did, but now that he knows the context, it sounds scripted. You had to practice saying it. “Now you can start one.”

Legend finds himself staring at the flower then back to your face with a watery smile. His heart is pounding and he feels like yelling. He wants to take off running. Would it be too much to kiss you here and now? “It’s going to be my prized possession. It’ll be the star of the whole assembly.”

You snort, relaxing a little. “It’s just a little flower.”

“Well yeah...” Legend tucks  it safely away for safe keeping. He can never lost this. Ever. “But you gave it to me.”

Part 3

[tgrailwar-zero]

You went into your description of the events. It was quiet, the only sound being your collective voices. You decided to stick to the facts- clear, focused, concise- not letting the more emotional aspects of the situation end up clouding your retelling. The facts, and nothing but the facts.

The Lair Servants took in the information, their eyes making you feel like an ant under a magnifying glass. Briefly, your gaze shifted to DOBRYNYA NIKITICH.

…She was listening, absolutely. You saw no boredom in her expression, no eye-rolling or signs that your words were meaningless. But you felt as if she was looking for... more. Once you finished, she sighed.

NIKITICH: "Hm. Ever-stiller waters. Very calm, very polite. Do I look like your mother and so you are minding your manners? Do you not tremble when thinking about the dragon? No tears prick at your eyes, no twitches in your hands? You did slay the dragon, did you not?"

NIKITICH: "You speak to Dobrynya Nikitich about Zmei Gorynych. You speak to Dobrynya Nikitich, who was trapped in blighted dragon blood for three days and three nights, staring at an endless crimson sea, with forearms turned scarlet… forever changed. A dragon is a story, and so I wished for that- I did not wish for a report. Perhaps when war starts, I would like reports. Perhaps the others found the report good. But I asked for a tale. A tale tells more about a hero than the bullet points- all of us here are defined by our tales, after all."

NIKITICH: "So, I am thinking, as I look upon the surface of ever-stiller waters, I am thinking."

She sat back, as the Keeper rose from his seat.

PTOLEMAIOS: "Thank you, Slayer. Even if you weren't satisfied, I will say that this was illuminating when it came to providing another avenue to examine the situation from. You said the War Monitor Lucius was re-summoned? Do you have any proof that this wasn't under duress?"

MAX: "Right, if I may, Keeper Ptolemaios."

He stepped forward, confidently.

MAX: "We all know that the War Monitor Lucius was passionate about the arts. That was the one part of her being that could never be compromised."

You heard CLEOPATRA laugh from her seat, a gentle, cool sound like wind-chimes.

CLEOPATRA: "Oh, yes. She wished to write a play for one of the theatres in the Megalopolis. The scripts she wrote were mad, but… they were passionate. They were drenched with affection, almost sickeningly so. Trite, comedic things that were also bubbled in sadness and an almost imperceptible hollowness. But, despite all of the flaws…"

CLEOPATRA: "…They were hers. As a fellow lover of love, I couldn't turn her away. But at the last minute, she'd always back out… say that they weren't right yet. That there was something missing. I wonder if she's finished yet?"

You thought back to the scraps of 'Chaotic Heroic' that she was working on. Her journal, the bits and pieces of her memory that she tried so desperately to put together.

…Not yet. She wasn't finished yet.

MAX: "I believe that this item would not be granted under duress. The craftsmanship, the fact that it was effective in quelling the rogue Alter-Ego… such a thing would have to possess shared passion, the same passion that blesses the pages of her works, as Pharaoh Cleopatra noticed."

He presented the Aulos, as the rest of the Lair Servants looked on quietly.

PTOLEMAIOS: "It does have her magical signature. And... that's reasonable enough conjecture, if it aligns with everyone's perceptions of Lucius. It will be considered."

ADMINISTRATOR: "…At the very least, that's definitive proof of the Emperor's return."

She said, rather unexpectedly. She continued, eyes narrowed.

ADMINISTRATOR: "…However, the Servants that are currently contracted to the Interlopers are not the ones currently on trial. If you recall, nine heroes came on to our world, and they were doubtlessly noble souls upon arrival. I do not doubt the intentions and exploits of the proven, but the unproven can drag them down to hell."

MAX: "And so, what would be a suitable way for them to prove themselves? You're not exactly leaving much room for alternatives."

ADMINISTRATOR: "Accepting death quietly this time. The Heavenly Divinity approaches Her throne and will soon descend upon the Moon Cell, so nobly relinquishing themselves to Her would be the truest course of heroic action. There's no time for unknown variables… not here, and not now. What can they offer us? If the answer is nothing, then why waste resources on managing them when it could be placed elsewhere?"

...The Birth of the Heavenly Divinity. A great goddess that would destroy the Solar Cell upon emergence, and then according to SIGURD 'almost certainly destroy the Void Cell on the Moon', but the collateral damage made it a 'nuclear option'- one that the other Lair Servants didn't seem as if they had any alternatives other than said option.

SIGURD had presented a theory to you, one that the others had doubts of. That due to your unique composition, you could most likely survive getting close to the Void Cell and lead the battlefront against it. The others risked corruption, meaning that you possessed something they didn't. A new strategy, that didn't put the life of the Solar Cell at risk nor humanity. If you could convince them of that, then you'd probably have a chance.

However, as a some of you reasoned, you could attempt to undercut the ADMINISTRATOR's credibility by bringing up what had happened during the Theurgical Holy Grail War and all of the complications there. If she wanted to kill you that badly, then she'd have to fight for it, and you could battle it out. If she didn't have suitable backing there, you could probably make it out unscathed.

KEEPER: "Speaking of the Moon, Madame Administrator. You're chief among the War Monitors, do you know anything about this Message Disk? I don't recall anything like that that in our records."

ADMINISTRATOR: "…Right. It was a message from our First Self. The Heavenly Divinity, before Our apotheosis. Meant for the eyes of the Emperor, if she should ever recover her memories. Meant for her eyes, and her eyes alone. It's… personal."

CLEOPATRA: "Now that's interesting. That look on your face… so, there's a heart in your chest after all?"

SIGURD: "You don't often talk about your… the Divinity's past on the Moon, Tamamo Vitch."

ADMINISTRATOR: "…And we don't have to, Warrior King."

ADMINISTRATOR: "With that being said, I would request for the Message Disk acquired to be relinquished back into Our hands. It's irrelevant to this case."

[contentloadingandstuff]

Reading time 📖

It's not often I share my hobbies outside of writing but, since it's fairly quiet as I work on multiple fics simultaneously, I might as well.

As you see, I've bought myself two works - the controversial "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov in English and "Maus" by Art Spiegelman, which is the more controversial text. I'll explain why shortly.

Let's start with "Lolita" since it's easier to talk about. I bought this book after listening to the video analysis by the creator Horses (link to the video here) to develop my own opinion about it. The book is both a memoir and statement for the judge written by the protagonist, convicted of abducting and assaulting a twelve year old girl - the titular "lolita". It has been misinterpreted as praise or glorification of pedophilic tendencies, but it is - just as "Crime And Punishment" by Fiodor Dostojewski but without the retribution - an analysis of a criminal's mind.

I'm looking forward to the lecture of Humbert Humbert's attempt to justify his behaviour to the world, the opposite of what I feel towards "Maus".

My payment of the 80 zł ( around 20$, 19€ or 16£) I spent on this collection of comics was a reluctant one. The premise is harmless enough (for lack of a better term). This set of comics describes the life and experiences of the author's father during the Holocaust, with a twist - here, the characters are portrayed as animals based on their ethnicity. The Jews are mice, and the Germans - cats. Simple idea of predator and prey, of the murder and the victim. But there are also other nationalities. Americans are noble dogs, the Swedes are reindeer, the Gypsies are moths, the British are fish (though I'm not sure why) and their southern neighbours are - as comedic tradition dictates - frogs.

What about the Poles then? They are swine.

What's more, the book's antipolonism shows time and time again. Poles are portrayed as antisemitic, cooperative towards the German occupants, impulsive, violent and cruel. There is little positive mention of them, and Spiegelman himself admitted that his father had little good to say about his countrymen and did nothing to give the nation justice. The incidents of wartime and post-war antisemitism are not portrayed as single crimes punishable by law, but as ordinary and acceptable occurrences.

Normally I enjoy delving into the annals of the second world war's horrific history, but unlike the other books I've read so far, this one seems to be written with a political intent, debatable as it is. Maus seems to share the same contemptible niche in Polish culture as Neighbours and Golden Harvest, alongside all of the other detestable excuses of historical journalism by Jan T. Gross. What these works share is their - subliminal or not - distrust and borderline disgust towards Poles as a nation. I am planning to review both books when I'm done with them here on the blog (regardless of whether there is any interest in it), so I will save my "ammunition", as they say, for then. I will however mention that the nation is, in terms of Righteous Amongst The Nations awards, the leader with exactly 7177 awards granted, the Netherlands second in with 5910. This is telling just by itself, doesn't it? Regardless, every experience is valuable, even if the author's intentions are questionable.

Again, I know this is far more serious than my usual content, consisting of silly x reader fics, but I find them interesting enough to mention. I hope you don't mind!

[granvarones]

My memories are a sacred place. Some may say I am addicted to nostalgia, and maybe, on some level, I am. But aren't most people? My visitations to yesteryear are not rooted in the longing to relive the past but rather a way for me to time travel and have conversations with my younger self. Conversations about what we both have survived, what we both witnessed, and, of course, re-examining the songs that got us through.

In the late 1980s, I shared a bedroom with my mother and three young brothers. While that sounds like a crowded situation, I remember spending a lot of time alone. This solitude allowed me to sing and dance to songs blasting from our clock radio. One of those songs was, in my opinion, one of the greatest pop songs in music history, "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" by Starship.

Released in January 1987, "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" was the theme song to "Mannequin," a whimsical and quirky romantic comedy about a struggling artist who falls in love with a mannequin brought to life by an ancient Egyptian spell. Starring Brat Packer, Andrew McCarthy as Jonathan Switcher, and Kim Cattrall as Emy, "Mannequin" is a story about love, acceptance, and friendship. This is punctuated by the bond between Jonathan and Hollywood Montrose.

"I never thought they'd hire anyone stranger than me." - Hollywood Montrose

Portrayed by the late Meshach Taylor, Hollywood Montrose is a Black, flamboyant, gay window-dresser who, on the surface level, is the comedic relief but is a central part of the film and its narrative about living fearlessly. Jonathan, who is viewed as weird by co-workers, finds an ally in Hollywood. Their bond and the fully realized character of Hollywood were not lost upon me as a child. I knew it transcended my personal reality; I just didn't have the language to express it.

Fun Fact: In a 1990 interview, Meshach Taylor shared that his portrayal of "Hollywood Montrose" was informed and inspired by friends he made as a cast member during the National Tour of Hair in the early 1970s.

The film's soundtrack is anchored by the Diane Warren co-penned and produced by Narada Michael Walden timeless gem, "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now." A power ballad without the schmaltz, the song perfectly encapsulates the magical vibe of the feel-good film. At first listen, the song's message of love's perseverance can come off as cheesy, but in the context of when it was released, coupled with the queer representation of the character Hollywood, the song's lyrics resonate even more deeply.

"Let 'em say we're crazy, what do they know

Put your arms around me baby, Don't ever let go

Let the world around us just fall apart

Baby, we can make it if we're heart to heart"

"Mannequin" was a box-office success that captured the hearts and imaginations of moviegoers. While not a critical darling, it was a reminder that sometimes the most fantastical stories that invite us to suspend our beliefs are the most touching. "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" was just as successful, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for two weeks in April 1987. The following year, the song was also nominated for Best Original Song at the 60th Academy Awards.

I remember watching this film over and over at my grandmother's house. I loved everything about it: Kim Cattrall as the beautiful mannequin that comes to life, the music (seriously, the soundtrack slaps!), and, of course, Hollywood Montrose. I was also moved by the friendship shared by Hollywood and the film's protagonist, Jonathan Switcher, a dynamic that challenged the norms of the time in 1987.

Yes, there are valid critiques about Hollywood and the stereotypes surrounding all flamboyant gay characters in cinema. But for me, Hollywood was a cultural touchstone, a joyful and bold representation of the LGBTQ+ community during a pivotal time in history. His audacity made him a mighty warrior. And for my younger self, who was always at war with classmates who teased me, Hollywood modeled that one could fight back and win!

I am grateful that my younger self saw a character like Hollywood in a movie the entire family watched. In the late 1980s, there wasn't much for me to choose from in terms of queer representation in mainstream media, especially during the years when the AIDS crisis was escalating. I am grateful that as an adult, I have been able to watch this film with my son and be reminded that Hollywood was a Black gay character that was vibrant and ALIVE during a time when so many were dying.

"And we can build this dream together

Standing strong forever

Nothing's gonna stop us now"

[totesarchives]

Kids R' all white

The Whitest Kids U’ Know know what’s funny

By Jane Borden

Although stand-up comics focus on perfecting one strong 20-minute set, the key to becoming a respected sketch group—faced with an hour to fill and striving to build a recurring audience—is to never let the joke well run dry. Since last February, The Whitest Kids U’ Know have been prolific, debuting new, inventive material every Sunday night at Pianos on the Lower East Side, while amassing a loyal fan base and a library of more than 200 sketches.

When challenged with generating that many original bits, a group is bound to repeat some premises. “We write a lot about war… and robots,” Trevor Moore, 24, says. The performer is surprisingly subdued for someone who, in one of the group’s short films, is comfortable swinging a bat on a Queens street and screaming to a second-floor window with child-like excitement, “Hey Bill! Come on: Race War!”

The group formed in 2000 when Moore met Sam Brown at an open mike in the city. “I had a pen that I pretended was a rocket ship and I just flew it around on stage for a couple minutes,” he recalls. “I don’t think anybody liked it but Sam.” The two School of Visual Arts students soon hooked up with another, Zach Cregger (strikingly handsome, predictably pursuing an acting career) and the perpetually unclothed-on-stage Timmy Williams, a student at Brooklyn College at the time. Darren Trumeter, 25 and the last to join, went through a rite of passage, as Moore recalls. “At a party, he was talking about getting in the troupe and we said, ‘Punch Zach in the face.’ So he goes over, taps Zach on the shoulder and punches him. We were like, ‘Yeah, you should be in.’”

…AND NOTHING BUT THE SPOOF Timmy Williams, Zach Cregger, Trevor Moore, Sam Brown and Darren Trumeter, from left, in black and mostly white.

After WKUK had done stints on stages at SVA and in comedy clubs around town, Pianos’ owners approached them to fill the bar’s Sunday night spot. “The crowd we try to appeal to isn’t the kind who pay $25 and a drink minimum,” Cregger, 25, says. They are, however, the kind who linger, hanging out with one another and the troupe, and return week after week.

The back-room attitude of Pianos also allows the troupe to take risks. Before launching into an impossibly high-pitched, a cappella duet sparked by news of Spielberg’s new Tom Cruise vessel The War of the Worlds, Moore announces, “Sam and I wrote this an hour ago.” It was awkward, nonsensical, childish and the funniest part of the show.

In fact, their scenes work precisely because they’re so bizarre. WKUK doesn’t remind you of anything else: They’ve had no formal training, rarely see other sketch shows and don’t even name comedic influences. When Brown, 23, attempts to explain the inspiration behind “War of the Worlds,” he says, “Trevor was listening to ‘Godzilla’ by Blue Öyster Cult…” Then Moore finishes his sentence, “So I guess Blue Öyster Cult is one of our main influences.”

Of course, not every risk returns a reward. But even the scenes that last too long or wax too wordy have something interesting or funny at heart. Their writing always puts the joke front and center. They don’t use props and always play themselves. “We’re not good enough to remember different names,” Moore jokes. “We try not to do sketch sketch… where everyone comes out in matching suits and stuff.”

They just do a lot of sketch. “Even though we write so much about pirates,” Cregger admits, “we try to do each scene in a new way. There’s one where there are a bunch of pirates in the crowd being loud and Trevor is shushing them—the whole sketch is just him saying, ‘Pirates! Pirates, quiet!’” Moore interrupts with sarcasm, “But then we’ll write another one where we’re pirates attacking robots on the sun—so that’s different.”

Hopefully their off-center humor will reach a larger audience soon. The group’s television-pilot teaser is in the pitching process with a few networks. Seeing a fresh perspective like theirs on the air would be a triumph for any comedy fan, but especially for those who agree with their opinions on most TV routines. “Putting a celebrity in a wacky situation bores the shit out of me,” Cregger says. Moore adds, “And if I see one more scene about a gay priest…”

“We do plenty of gay jokes,” Cregger admits, “but at least we have a new angle on it.” “Right. Our gay robot sketch is hilarious,” Moore jokes. “Oh yeah—that’s the one with the pirates in it,” Brown shoots back.

__________

This article first appeared in Issue 493 of Time Out New York, an entertainment and events guide magazine. Whitest Kids U’ Know cofounder Trevor Moore credited the piece with boosting the sketch troupe’s popularity; following the article’s publication in March of 2005, “you couldn’t get into our shows,” he said. Time Out New York released its final print edition in 2020 and is now available exclusively online.

Text and image taken from Reddit.

[swedebeast]

1, 2, 3, 4!

Yeehawh, let's do this

1.if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Hmmm. I am not sure what media I know of that could summarize a person. Maybe superficially, but about myself? We always think of ourselves as very complicated, and I think I'll say the same for myself. Hm. I am not sure about that one, to be honest. I am sure I can mention things that would summarize my opinion on things, but not me as a person. Perhaps older Star Trek on how I wish people would treat each other and strive for excellence, Making Democracy Work by Putnam was a good book on how sports groups and hobby interests can bridge people together and I think it is an excellent way on how to actually do that and minimize division.

Watch Jurassic Park if you want to get why I love dinosaurs. They're fucking cool.

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

Can't say that I have. I don't read philosophy books as a matter of habit, often it is mostly science fiction or political science textbooks - but nothing comes to mind as a "holy shit, this is me!" when I read it.

Perhaps if there is one time I remember from recently of someone writing something that made me nod in agreement, it might be this from a tabletop war game rule-book.

3. list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

Shit, all of them? Man. I am a fan of a lot of things, few that drive me to fanatic zeal, but I suppose the things I am invested in to this day that I would actually spend money on and actively engage with IRL and online would be Star Trek, Babylon 5, Mutant the Swedish post-apoc TTRPG, Lord of the Rings. Let's check off the list.

Star Trek: Miles O'Brien. At first I thought Picard, but really, Miles feels fitting. European with an accent, he spends too much time in the holo-suits, engages in historical games there as well, and he has a TON of bad luck. Babylon 5: Susan Ivanova. Not sure if I identify with her completely, but I sure do want to be more like her. She is professional, but speaks back when she gets disrespect. Wish I would do more of that, hey ho. Mutant: Shit, this is a franchise with over 40 years of history. Maybe this guy.

LOTR: This guy.

4. do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

Oh yeah, sure. Not much in a name beside the values and meanings we put into it, because they can mean so much. My name is a variation of "Kimbellus", which was the name of a Celtic warlord that invaded ancient Greece. And my last name means, once all the components have been taken apart and put back together again, something like "the lordly she-wolf of the fortified farms".

Can't complain, it just creates comedic instances when my first name is unisex, but female in the English speaking world.

[devilrosola]

More Magi Anime Please

Who’s with me?

If there were to be more animated Magi, would people be more excited to watch it if it followed the manga or went a completely separate route?

I’d like to see discussion, but please keep it civil. I know there are those that feel more anime should be frame by frame following the manga to those that want a complete rewrite/au. Please no dissing other’s opinions.

Pretty much, what things in the manga do you feel are a MUST KEEP what parts do you want SKIPPED?

Might be a farfetched dream, but I’m working on scripting out potential seasons 3 & 4 (possibly throw Alma Torran as a Magi movie vs shoved in season 3)

My (Devil Rose) Take

What I have so far is titling Season 3 Magi: World of Magic that goes from Second Balbadd Arc to Kou Civil War Arc Season 4 Magi: Universe of Magic starting out with Alibaba’s/Judar’s journey up the dark continent through the timeskip Final Arc {Future post canon dreams of S5:Dimension of Magic & S6:Multiverse of Magic

Big difference I’m doing is presenting chronologically. So many flashbacks take a while to sort out and since those who have read the manga already know the spoilers, it would be nice to see things from a different pov/order. *The season would start where season 2 left off with Hakuryuu and Judar leaving Magnostadt and heading into Belial’s dungeon. *After, when they take a fort, switch to the 2nd Balbadd Arc *Season 4 would have the confrontations with Aladdin/Sinbad, Arbakuei/Hakuryuu before Alibaba returns. Instead of two separate chunks of flashbacks, we’d see the order of the two leading one into the other

Spread out Aladdin’s story telling to have more Sindria/Kou/Reim interaction between meetings (one way to make an Alma Torran movie workable, and since Alma Torran is dif charas, could potentially stand on it’s own--released between Season 2 & 3 as Aladdin reminiscing/learning the history himself). Including antics of the 3 powers spying on each other during the conference/trying to outwit the others or discover how to sway them to their own ideology. *Possibly actually have it look like they are going to agree to peace when Judar swoops in, crashing the party, sing-songing “Ding Dong, the witch is dead!” and making sure that peace won’t happen since he finds chaos more fun. *Think what you want about enja, but I’m selfishly including a scene from my Sinjaren fic where Kouen insults Sinbad and Ja’far slices his cheek

Shipping teases abound. Give out plenty of fuel to spark different ships, but nothing solid enough to rule out peoples OTPs {except the canon confirmed ones--if going the route that mostly follows the manga}

Def Keeping Comedic Scenes and incorporating omakes where can *Masrur hearing about more Fanalis, but not believing it since Sin had lied about that in the past *Judar/Yunan dressing comatose Alibaba *“ALIBABA! You’re not dead?!” running gag is a must

A few new characters not in the manga. Before you cringe, they’re not inserts. Between the Omake of Hakuryuu telling Alibaba about “prince-ly duties” to Koumei’s infamous “cherry boy” comment I’m pretty sure Kouen and Koumei have had women thrust upon them since becoming princes. That’s a lot of years so I hc that they both have children by this point in time. {TW} Sadly, Hakuryuu during his cray-cray phase will be experimenting on them before claiming the throne. 😢

Adding details to fill in some loopholes *How did Sinbad know the second Alibaba went to Samon Island? Conspiracy theory that shellphones pick up sound even when not in use. Sinbad has a room listening to all the noise, but a worker zero-ed out Alibaba went to visit the Kou Bros and alerted Sinbad--which is when he called Alibaba up saying he can’t

---

That’s pretty much where I’m at so far.

I’m torn on the raiding the sacred palace/return to the rukh ending

Follow it? Or seek out what could have happened for Magi before the rushed ending?

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GHOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Two

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Somebody on Wattpad asked if they could get ‘a part two where she like meets them and they still do kind stuff?’ I really liked that idea, so this little part is a filler (their meeting) so that I can fullfill the request in a third and final part. Enjoy! :D

word count: ~ 1.4k

summary: You finally meet the boys. Obviously, chaos ensues.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| Part One | Part Three |

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“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You knew that Julie wouldn’t judge you, not after the year she had. But honestly, after hearing that Flynn was almost going to egg her house after finding out about the Swedish hologram boys you were very inclined to just shake your head and forget about it all. Even if the note from Reggie, Alex and Thing Three had been burning a hole into your pocket.

Needless to say that it had been a very weird winter break. But you were still kind of disappointed when nothing happened on New Year.

Nevertheless, you closed your locker and turned around to look at Julie and Flynn while they approached you. “Does a flying pen called Reggie and a computer that suddenly decides to cheer me up called Alex and a third something, temporarily called Chicken Scratch, do as well?” you asked and took the note out of your pocket, hoping it would come out as comedically rather than insane.

At first, nothing happened and Julie and Flynn just stared at you. Then Julie ripped the little paper out of your hand and quickly unfolded it.

Almost afraid you smiled at them nervously when they looked back up at you, expecting everything and yet nothing at the same time. Which is why you weren’t quite sure what to make from Julie and Flynn’s reaction. Sighing they both looked at each other and whisper-shouted: “Reggie!”

“Reggie… as in the pen? You’re calling my pen?” Bewildered, you looked at your two best friends. Okay so maybe they did think you’ve lost it. ‘Retreat, retreat! Make a final joke about it and let it slide!’ “ I think you kind of forgot the magic word ‘Accio’ beforehand. Accio Reggie, you know? And don’t forget to swish and flick it guys or else it might blow up in your face,” you giggled nervously. ‘Nope, that wasn’t it.’

But instead of going into it, Julie suddenly seemed busy staring angrily at a locker just to their right and making weird eyebrow movements towards it, while Flynn just swung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you with her.

“I think it’s time that we, or rather Julie, told you something. But, first things first, you know that egging your best friends house isn’t the solution, right?”

-

Correction: They lost it. Not you, they! Ghosts. Forking 90s ghosts they said.

Because apparently Reggie, Alex and Luke (not Who or Thing Three - just a ghost with a very terrible handwriting, Flynn couldn’t stop giggling and said something about the Fat Ones?) were exactly that - forking 90s ghosts. You almost snorted into your cereal and inhaled the milk when Julie told you that after arriving home from school.

“Sure. Ghosts are wishing me a Merry Christmas. What’s next? Did I miss Michael Jackson wishing me a Happy New Year and will Elvis Presley be serenading me on Valentine’s Day?”

“Wait... Michael Jackson died?! When? Ah damn... I barely had time to listen to his 9nth album before we died!”

“Dude... First Star Wars, now this? What exactly are you doing when we aren’t rehearsing?”

“Not screaming in a museum, but I did say dibs on the shower… the rubber duckies are just too cute to ignore!”

“You use them in a bath Reggie, not the shower!”

Obviously, you couldn’t hear them but you did see the eye-roll Julie gave the thin air before turning back to you. “Sorry to disappoint but no. Michael and Elvis are dead.”

Silence fell upon you three six.

Ending the silence by eating your (crunchy) cereal, you swallowed and said, “Yeah fun fact, the adjective dead literally appears in the definition of ghosts. That’s kind of what makes them ghosts. Being dead. So… what makes your buddies so special?”

Silence. Again. (Well, for you. Julie was listening to two ghosts chasing each other around the kitchen ‘STOP IT REGINALD!’ while the third one was sitting by your side, face in his hands, eyeing your cereal wistfully and sighing.)

Taking a deep breath Julie pushed her hands away from her body. “We don’t know. But we would like to show you. So... Boys, Garage. Now! Girls, Garage. Please,” she said, waving her hand to the backdoor.

Opening the garage door a few moments later and gesturing at the couch and chairs Julie said, “Please sit down. The band will be with us shortly.”

“Uh!”, you said excited, clapping your hands. Might as well go along with it. Worst case scenario? All three of you will go visit Dr. Turner. Best case scenario? Well… best case scenario the boys ghosts are real and you will be sleeping with one eye open from now on. But honestly, how bad can that be? They have a good taste in Christmas music after all. “What are we going to hear? Panic! At the Disco? Taylor Swift?”

“No no no. They only do originals. Now come on, Mama needs her eye candy. Oh, and watch it. Reggie needs space to rock out,” Flynn told you as she guided you to the couch.

“Look at that! She listens and learns!” Julie giggled and sat behind the keyboard. “Let’s do it the old fashioned way. Y/N, this is Flying Solo.”

-

Well, they were real. Or as real as ghosts can be.

“Yeah… quick question. Why am I always the one who gets probed?” the dark-haired bassist asked after your hand passed through his shoulder.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I should have asked first.”

“Ah don’t worry. It was nice actually. Now I know that you have a kind heart.”

The shaggy-haired guitarist snorted, accidentally strumming his guitar a little too hard. “And an endless black pit as a stomach.”

“And you know that why?” Julie asked with her hands crossed in front of her chest.

“He watches her eat the sandwiches he makes for her. He finds it cute when she giggles at the Nutella faces he paints onto them," the bassist answered for the guitarist.

“You make her sandwiches… with Nutella faces?! Why don’t I get those?!” "You watch me while I eat?!" Julie and you screamed out at the same time.

“Chill out you both! You," Flynn said pointing at you, "get free food! But watch it, they did die by eating poisoned hot dogs, so don't trust them entirely. And you!" She moved over to Julie, "You get eye candy 24/7! I should be the one to complain! I don’t get anything and I am your manager!”

Blushing the brown-haired boy averted his eyes and muttered, “I don’t remember agreeing to that." (Because of course that would be the point he would focus on.) "You booked us a school dance after all!” Feeling and then seeing their indignant looks he quickly retreated. “Which we are still very, very sorry for missing out on! A… and and the band name you came up with is really great Flynn!”

Throwing her hair back and squinting her eyes, Flynn gave him a joking glare. “You pass. Barely. I’m still watching you.”

“Okaaaay so, judging by your looks and your attitude I’d say… you're Chicken Scratch, right?”

“HEY!” And then more quietly, “My name’s Luke.”

You nodded. “You deserve it. So, Luke, I guess it's nice to meet you.”

“So today is ‘Make fun of Luke’-day?”

“Oh… that’s only today? Sorry, I must’ve missed that memo. I thought that was every day.”

You giggled and turned to the drummer who had just spoken. “Alex, right?”

The blond guy nodded smirking while continuing to quietly drum.

“Then you must be Reggie!” you smiled at the bassist again. “I heard Kayla talk about you to Carrie on a few occasions.”

As he dropped his bass the last thing you saw or heard from Reggie was an excited, “Girls talk about me? Take that Alex!” Then he puffed out of existence.

“Reggie, you do realize that my ‘they can’t tip what they can’t see’ statement still applies here, right?” Alex said sighing and mouthed, “I’m sorry” in your direction, before flinching and puffing out of existence as well.

“They don’t have to tip me, Alex, they just have to like me!” Luke imitated Reggie sarcastically, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows while eyeing the thin air.

“Wow! Watch it!”

But Julie’s warning came too late. With a ‘whooosh’ and followed by a dull pain one of Alex’s drumsticks flew through the air and hit your head. “Ow!”

“Oi boys! Stop it!” And with that Luke vanished as well.

[whenyoulosesmallmind]

would you like to share some songs you associate with your favourite characters and why?

part one (you are here!) | part two

okay, anon, anon, my dear my lovely anon, you've gotta know that giving my most loved their own little soundtrack is one of my favourite things to do - so, buckle up! that said, since at the moment i have a huge transformers themed brainrot, this will be mostly in reference to my crack au in perpetual progress, but hold up for some unrelated special mentions! (i wanted to do them, but then it got too long, sorry ;w;)

let's start with an odd one: i first started plotting the au up with viva la vida on loop - not my usual kind of music and it doesn't have much to do anymore with the au per se, but it's a fun throwback

TARN, he's a fun one to pick music for, because in my mind he has a specific vibe that is a mix of an actually tragic character and the most stupidly comedic villain so his picks are all scattered over the place. anyway, he gets: 1. votre toast je peux vous le rendre (sang by a proper baritone this time!); obvious stand in for the empyrean suite is obvious, i love to imagine he'd listen to it and think he's cool like escamillo (bestie, you are josè at best <3), it plays right in into all of his delusions imho, 2. stars; people who pick the phantom of the opera as thee tarn theatre musical song i will personally fistfight you. THE lawful evil song - also tarn does parallel nice to javert, if you ask me, 3. tu grillo parlante; you're such a learned man / but that kind of violence / you so often speak of / we're feeling it deep inside / its sold in all the shops in the city / you should buy some, too / you'll see that you'll need it - local man preaches shit he's got all wrong, what will he do next? 4. video killed the radio star; man is so anchored to a vision of the world is blind to see how shit's changed, refuses to admits his own faults, 5. grace kelly/bathtube mermaid (i love both, i can't honestly choose); he’s worn himself so thin, a persona after the other, they’re all bleeding into each other - who are you, tarn, beside your desire to please? bonus track: Tarn & Kaon as il gatto e la volpe; second obligatory pinocchio reference but cmon: you won't regret it / we discover new talents and we're never wrong / we'll be able to make the most of your talents [...] you were so lucky to meet us / he's the cat and i'm the fox, we're a company (?) / you can trust us!, if nothing because imagining tarn and kaon as a couple of talent scouts of serial killers amuses me to no end. also it's nickel's nickname for them! except she's forgot it's the cat who's blind and the fox who’s got the limp, so she's got them switched out.

(i delight in thinking that, minus carmen's aria, tarn would absolutely loathe every song i picked for him btw)

meanwhile, DEATHSAURUS, he's a bit harder to choose for, he has less "screen"time in the comics, less fics and meta written about him, so i'm quite going more with my gut feelings and uh, mostly shit i’ve made up myself for his au version, that's it, i’m sorry. one thing i'll say, though, i think i read this fic (by warlordenfilade i think? i don't want to tag in case i'm wrong ;w;) where the author stated that deathsaurus' taste in music would probably be something like space nickleback and YES perfect headcanon, though i've cranked it up to space soad (who are actual soad, tbh, since. human au). this said, deathsaurus would probably like the picks i've got for him much more than tarn does since, musically speaking, i guess we're floating more or less on the same boat (by which i mean, it's absolutely nonsensical): 1. question!; this is more of an early life lingering feeling vibe that he's carrying on from being fresh off the MTO operating lab, seeing the war from the first time face on, raising the ladder to warwold commander and some of the insensitiveness (mental and physical both) he's developed through it. just. deathsaurus weird feelings time, 2. coming undone/right between the eyes; if i ever get to write the human au version of deathsaurus defecting this is going to be the soundtrack, full stop: the fed-upness, the rage, the blowup, it just fits in like a puzzle coming together (heh!), 3. falling away from me/lost in hollywood; if the songs from point two are the defection soundtrack these are the buildup: you’re trapped in a cicle of violence and the people who depend on you are all dying useless deaths, you have to break it but it is also the reality that you’ve known for all your life and shaped you as the person you are now, 4. i would for you; deathsaurus’ terminal “i can fix them” disease <3  bonus track(s): Deathsaurus/Esmeral as enter sandman; they became something horrible together, deathsaurus even has a couple of lines of the song tattoed on his ribcage - it used to be a favourite, you could even call it their own song. what has become of their relationship: should i stay or should i go? (and the obvious no children) Esmeral’s early pov on deathsaurus and tarn’s relationship would instead be something like somebody told me - because the army likes to gossip and i like some silliness in my drama. meanwhile, Deathsaurus’ early pov on tarn as a whole would probably be something like blame it on the girls and he would be right <3 ...and adding to the series of Nickel’s Nicknames, she calls deathsaurus capitan harlock mostly in reference to the italian version of the og opening, but the english one works as well, i suppose.

some misc: if you want to know what both NICKEL and KAON like to listen, put on some Raffaella Carrà; though nickel’s song is donatella or even lamette, tbh they’re both good for her. babylon gives me deathsaurus’ warworld vibes. i can’t point exactly out why; it’s not really in the lyrics. ride the lightning is how deathsaurus’ Thunder Arrow got its name. beside the note i made in the beginning, what actually kickstarted me to think of the whole djd as humans was this reinterpretation of un’emozione da poco (shrugs) and that’s why my version of human tarn looks a bit like Luca Marinelli ig.

[infinitegalahad]

Hi! Request with prompt “i’m not jealous!” “you’re clearly jealous.” With nixon please? I love jealous nix! Lol 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 You’re the best!!!

WASHING MACHINE HEART

Prompts: "I'm not jealous!" and "You're clearly jealous"

Gif Credit: @andrewhaldane

Summary: Nothing ever lasts forever, everybody wants to rule the world. You are pretty much the only person who could change the way Lewis operates, and that's exactly what you do-change him.

Word-Count: 4.8k

WARNINGS!!!: semi-not healthy relationship, alcohol abuse, investment to lovers, sugar daddy/baby, semi-age gap (21-28?), a

Notes: Life lesson learned. Never listen to Mitski or Lana Del Rey when having thoughts about Lewis Nixon being your sugar daddy? Why you may ask? Because it will destroy you. This request was so fun to do, thank you op! I haven't written for Nixon before, so I apologize if he's a little too OOC. Also warning, this is defiantly not the most healthiest relationship, and I realize that. But they try to make it work. Also while writing this, I listened to @web-gott's lewis Nixon playlist and all of her playlists r GREAT BUT THAT DESTROYED ME. great job ily. anyways enough rambles! enjoy!

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @ricksmorty @pennyllanne @ask-you-what-sir @web-gott

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

“You want me to be you’re what?”

Nearly spitting out drinks, Vat 69 mixed with vodka (A Nixon classic). It was quite a bizarre offer. Maybe Lewis had drunk too much, which was a common habit. But you made eye contact with him and he had a shit eating grin on your face. You let out an awkward laugh, and he followed suit.

You had been Lewis’s assistant operations officer since Caretan, there with him through a demotion, a divorice, and all of the other wonderful things that happened in his life. Not only was he your boss, but someone you confided in. He would confine in you, you would confide in him with stolen alcohol-it was a perfect example of mutualism. It’s as if you were his therapist at first, then a friend, and then a friend with benefits. Everything was kept under wraps, of course, for both of you to honor your diginites. Besides, you wouldn't wanna tarnish Lewis’s relationship with your father-considering that he was his boss, a Major general for the 101rst Airborne Division.

“A confidante. Companion. Confrère.” Nixon explained as he poured more vodka into your empty cup, which was not a good sign, “Miss Nixon won’t leave her baby boy alone. If I show her I have someone on my arm, she’ll shut up.”

“So let me get this straight. I go back home with you to New York, attend a party with you, be your arm candy, and you pay me?” You summarized his point, swimming the drink in your hands.

“Money, gifts, whatever you want, I can give you,” Lewis promised. He leaned against the railing as you looked at him. Your elbows grazed against each other. Resting your chin on your palm, you went deep into this arrangement.

The war had ended in The Pacific, so you could finally go home. As much as you were excited to leave and finally get back home, you’d miss Nixon. Sure, you’d be in Bronxville and he’d be Manhattan, only a train ride apart. Yes, he was a total asshole, but he was your asshole. The two of you had been together through thick and thin. Your parents would never approve of an alcoholic divorcee, but there was something inside of him that made you fill up with nervous excitement.

You could hear your mother’s voice, scolding you about the type of man Lewis was. Maybe he was a little too old, a little too broken, and a little too much for you, but that’s what attracted you to him. Over time, you learned that you and Nixon had much more in common. Both of you wanted to get away from your families. Hell, Nixon was paying for your college tuition at Sarah Lawenrece and when he had a weekend pass into Paris, you would come. For “work purposes”, but in all honesty it was for fine dining in Paris, shopping for the finest things in Champs-Élysées with Nixon, arm in arm wrapped under your finley manicured finger, and learning more about Miss Nixon’s best boy.

It was hard to let go of that. Everything he had done for you, and yet you were just friends with benefits. Still, after all you have gone through. It frustrated you. But after his divorce, you wanted to support him. He had lost everything, and without Dick, he was probably more lonely and hurt than ever. You wanted to be his comfort besides Vat 69. This arrangement could be an opportunity for the both of you. Maybe it would be more than an arrangement, but something bigger than that.

Lewis nudged your elbow as he raised a thick eyebrow, “Well, whatta’ say?”

“I say, why the hell not?” You accepted the offer, and the two of you clinked your drinks together. “So would we call this an arrangement? Be the pretty thing on your shoulder and you give me pretty things? Just like in Paris?”

“Just like Paris.” He reassured you, patting your shoulder. Sitting on a bench, he patted the spot next to you with his arm stretched out. “Sit with me?”

“Why I’d be honored too, good sir!” You dramatically stated for a comedic effect, which earned a smile from Lewis as you sat down right next to him. Moving close, both of your thighs caressed with each other. He adjusted and moved his free arm around you, bringing you close to him. You responded by laying your head on his chest, along with one of your hands.

Lewis didn’t say much besides drinking more from his cup, which kept getting refilled and gouged in seconds. There was a cold silence that filled the air. You kept adjusting in his hold, craving for that attention that wasn’t crude jokes or touch, but it always flew over his head. As he got lost in what the hell he was going to when he was home and the alcohol that poured in his system, you laid on his chest, waiting for that kiss, even though you knew that it wasn’t happening.

You closed your eyes as you laid there, pretending that Lewis was more than an arrangement for you.

The thing was, Lewis wasn’t dumb. He knew that too, but he didn’t know how to put it in words, so he used what he knew who to use best-money and gifts. Just as you always did.

~

A month after you had set up the arrangement, the two of you returned home. He went back to Manhattan, you went to Boxnville to attend Sarah Lawernce. Two months later, the week before you’re to head off to see your family in Florida, Nixon finally chooses to call you. After he ignores all your calls, letters, everything-he finally chooses to be a man. It doesn’t even feel like a relationship, which is what you wanted it to be. All of the effort you have made has gone to waste. Lewis looks as if he wants to keep it in an arrangement.

Normally, you’d appreciate the cash and all the lavish gifts, but money didn’t buy happiness.

His offer was simple. The Nixons were throwing a party at the Tribeca Rooftop, and it was bound to be full of every socialite in the Tristate area. Lewis asked for you to accompany him for the weekend. Separate rooms if you wanted, all of the dinners paid for by him, in exchange he gets arm candy and you get all the money you need. You considered using it to pay for rent, but after all-Lew was paying for everything, despite there being ignored communication.

It was hard to pass, and you were frustrated. But despite it all, you took up the offer. It was better than being stuck with your parents.

Once you accepted the offer, Lewis drove his Buggati down to Bronxville to pick you. You lived in a cramped apartment with a bunch of other Journalism majors. Seeing him outside of the window, you opened your window and waved.

“Look at what the devil dragged in.” You spat with a smile.

Lewis looked up at you, wearing those damn aviators he got in Austria. They had also been the ones that you had picked up for him, so it must have been sentimental.

“There you are,” He said, leaning against his car, “You coming?”

“Give me a minute!” You called and closed your window. Grabbing your keys and bag, you walked out of your room and towards the exit, only to see all of the girls who lived in your apartment ushered, admiring whatever the hell Nixon was to you. A friend, a sugar daddy, you truly had no idea.

One of the girls turned her head back to you, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe, “So, you’re the lucky one?”

You looked at her, slipping your boots on and tying them, “For?”

“A weekend in the city with a man who’s got money. Fancy dinners, fancy things, almost anybody would want it,” She explained, a tint of jealousy in her voice, “Just don’t come back pregnant.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” You confirmed. Once you finished getting your coat on, you waved goodbye to your flatmates, who all begged for you to bring nice things back to you, and even a man for them. The thought you made it chuckle, since they were truly all naive to what it was really like to be treated as an investment.

Walking down the stairs, you were greeted by Lewis, slouched on the front of the car and upon seeing you, straightened up. He began to walk towards you, and so do you. For once, he had cleaned himself up and looked like he was taking care of himself. It took you by surprise when he pulled you into a one armed hug, wrapping around your neck. You met with his chest, taking in his expensive cologne.

“Hey,” He mumbled into your shoulder as he held you close. Maybe for warmth, you thought. “I missed you.”

The cold layer you had felt upon seeing Lewis again had suddenly melted away. Normally, he wasn’t so sentimental. He was sarcastic and witty, but this time-he was different. Kinder, softer, just a little sadder. You put a hand up his armpit, also holding him close.

“Guess I did too,” You responded back. Breaking from the hug, the two of you looked at each other. You chuckled to yourself, not really knowing how to fill the silence.

“I’m glad you took up the offer, by the way.” Nixon added on. It made you look up and shrug your shoulders.

“It’s not like I wanna see my family.” Your shoes moved around on the icy ground, swishing the ice to the side. You were happy to see him, but there was just something about Lewis that was always sad. The same could be said about you, but he looked exhausted. Drained, emotionally and physically.

“Yeah, me either. But you make it tolerable,” Lewis said as he took your bag out of your hands, putting it on the back seat. The two of you got into his car. Before he started the car, Lewis threw a velvet case at you. You were taken by surprise and looked at him.

“Open it,” Lewis nudged his head.

Puzzled, you carefully opened the case and smiled. It was the Willsonite sunglasses, the tinted tortoise shell ones you had seen in Austria when roaming the streets with Lewis.

“It’s what all the girls in the city wear,” Lewis explained. He had picked out his gift with precision and care. Normally, all the girls would buy sunglasses for cheap at a stand at the beach, but hell-you were with the Lewis Nixon after all.

You put on the sunglasses and turned to Lewis, the glasses gently sliding down the bridge of your nose. “Is this your apology for neglecting me?”

Lewis leaned back, looking regretful. “I sent money, I sent the Mademoiselle perfume every month, I’m taking care of you-”

“That’s not what I want. I don’t-” You let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of your nose. It was easy to get angry, but you contained yourself, trying to hide your anger. “I love the gifts, but I want one thing. You. I want to actually spend time with you.” You bit your lip, and the only reason you were going to say it was to keep Lewis, “I’m supposed to be your arm candy, aren’t I?”

“You’re more than arm-candy to me, y/n. I enjoy your company. You’re a great kid.” Lewis began to explain his case. His sunglasses fell down his face, revealing the eyebags, “I didn’t want you to know that I went to rehab.”

“What do you mean? That’s all I wanted for you.”

“I know-it’s just. It wasn’t pretty, and you’ve got a lot going through you. I didn’t wanna drag you down with me.”

Guilt tugged at your head. The last thing you wanted to do was make Lew feel guilty. The only way the arrangement was going to work is if Lewis got the help he needed. He repressed his problems, and you were stubborn and weren’t going down with a fight.

“Lew,” You cooed as you put your hand on his. He looked at you as you inhaled and exhaled, “I don’t give a shit about whether it was pretty or not. I’m just glad you’re getting help. Take the worry off of my back. I care, y’know.”

Lewis put his hand on top of yours and his dark eyes connected with yours. He looked deep into your soul as you sat there, a smile on your face. It was your motto to just sit and act pretty. It was backwards, but If it was for Lewis, then it had to work.

“You make everyday worth living.”

You were unable to respond, frozen. The ice barrier that you surround yourself with had melted away. The one thing in your mind was a kiss. It seemed appropriate. As you began to slowly lean forward, not to scare him away, Lewis removed his hands and put them on the wheel as he began to back out of the parking lot. You sat there, your hands once we’re Lewis rested.

“Let’s have a good weekend, okay?” Lewis says, and you clench your hands together. Putting on a smile, you put on the facade of the arm candy. It’s all a part of the game.

“I’d like that a lot,” You commented and moved towards the window. Putting your sunglasses back on, it earned a smile from Lewis as he drove the car. Now both you matched.

“I like those on a lot,” He complemented, “They bring out the shape in your face.”

You moved them down, winking at him. “My oh my. Someone’s coquettish today.”

The two of you chuckled as you drove down the road. As you merged onto the highway and saw the traffic, you made a polite request.

“Can we go down the west side highway instead of the FDR please? It gets down to Tribeca faster.”

“Sure,” Lewis said, his hand resting on the wheel. “Anything for little miss/mister y/n.”

You leaned against the window and smiled to yourself. You should’ve been happy, you had everything you ever wanted.

But the one thing-Lewis’s love.

~

Lewis’s apartment in Tribeca was wonderful, located on the top floor of the most expensive building in the city with glorious paintings, velvet chair, and a built-in fireplace and bar. For such a large place, it was empty, all besides his Daschuand puppy named Pepper. He got the dog since he felt lonely, but made your heart twitch. He let you choose whatever room you wanted, despite the look in his eyes. So, you choose to sleep with him in the master bedroom.

That night, you expected Lewis would want to have sex, but he wasn’t in the mood. Normally, that’s what it was. Fucking and money. But Lewis had changed. He just felt you close in bed, and the two of you walked about mundane things. Pepper, of course, slept in the bed since she was Nixon’s little girl. You fell asleep in his arms, and enjoyed the change of the pace.

The next morning, Lewis took you down to a restaurant on the water. When ordering drinks, he asked for a bloody mary-virgin. You ordered a mimosa-virgin as well.

“You realize that’s just orange juice, right?” Lewis commented as you leaned over the table.

“And you’re drinking raw tomato juice,” You snarked back, which made Lewis smirk. You saw the change in him from yesterday and today. So, you decided to question further. “So, did you quit?”

“Trying. Whenever I think of doing it, I think of you, throwing out every single bottle in my cabinet and threatening to leave me. And I don’t want that, so go figure.”

Under the table, Lewis’s legs crossed and held the ankle of your foot. You felt your cheeks grow pink, grasping onto the napkin on your nap.

“Why me by the way? Think about it. You’re a hermit socialite, I’m a college student. Those two don’t click well together,” You itched the back of your neck.

Lewis looked at you, his leg itching up your ankle. He thought you were joking as he furrowed his thick eyebrows. He stopped, straightening his posture. “Well you, my dear, are someone that isn’t easy to forget. I like making you happy. Also, who else would be paying your rent and tuition?”

“Myself.”

“Waste of money.” Lewis threw his hand up to shrug off the matter, “Where’s the fun in that?”

The waiter came over and put your drinks down. Lewis gave the waiter a thank you as you laughed to yourself. He was really good at playing his role.

“Y’know, you’re good at this stuff. The whole sugar daddy thing,” You let out a snort, taking a sip at your drink.

“I like making others happy. That’s what money does. Not for yourself, but others. When I take you shopping and I see your eyes light up, that’s what makes me happy,” Lewis acknowledged. The two of you looked at eachother. Not in that joking way, but it was romantic. Sweet. He loved to see you happy, and you loved to see him sober. It worked.

“Also, wherever you wanna go today, I’ll take you. But I do have one rule.”

“And what is it?”

“We stop at Lord and Taylors. I have another surprise in store.”

~

The surprise in store turned out to be an outfit for the Nixon’s party. It was nothing too flashy, but regal enough to make you feel like you were out of a fairytale. His goal was to make you the belle of the ball, and he never failed to under the assignment.

Nixon's party was what you expected it to be. Awkwardly meeting Lewis’s parents and his mother giving you a death glare, seeing the dark haired solicates drink, a jazz band, and the best part of the party-Blanche. She was the only one besides Nixon without a stick up her ass. Most of the party you and Nixon were arm in arm. You would occasionally lean against him, yearnin for his attention, but he’d be too busy with the supply of Vat 69.

You had that feeling in your gut, and it wasn’t a good one. It made you sick, anxious, nervous-all around horrible. The more he drank, the more the pit in your stomach would drop. So you went outside onto the patio to catch some fresh air, to be alone and stroll around. Hell, you were even wearing Nixon’s jacket and clutching to it like a child to it’s comfort blanket.

Strolling across the patio and watching the skyline, your moments of peace were interrupted by the distant yellings coming from a room with an open door. You walked down the line, realizing that the voice was Nixon’s.

“An escort at this party? Lewis, you usually disappoint me, but this is unacceptable!” An older gentleman cried, setting down his scotch.

“Do you see the way they were dressed! What a vixen…” A woman cried, who you presumed to be Miss Nixon herself.

“There is nothing like that. They chose to come-”

“Stop lying to yourself. Someone of that age and you, someone with money, is a recipe for disaster. How much do you pay them to accompany you?”

The words kept breaking your heart. You leaned against the window, as fishguard as you were, listening to every single world.

Under pressure, Lewis threw his hands up, “Fine. You know what? You’re right. I pay for what y/n wants. To make them happy and for them to accompany me. They are nothing more than an investment to me.”

Those words cut like ice, like a bullet to the heart. A hand wrapped around your mouth as he pushed away and began to walk away, unable to listen to another word. An investment! How pathetic you felt to think that after all this time, everything you had been through together, everything he had brought you was all for nothing. Just like you had been told, Nixon was using you for your youth or as a way to cope with his many divorces.

Naturally, you would have felt like running out of the place and getting on the next train to Bronoxville, never seeing Nixon again. But there was anger in your heart that burned brighter than any fire you had seen. The ice surrounded your heart once more. It was a party, after all. And you didn’t want to leave without leaving a mark. After all, you 're a vixen.

Long story short, you stormed back into the party and met another young soilciate. Typical asshole with too much money and his way paid into an Ivy League. You didn’t even catch his name as the two of you conversed, and he kept the alcohol pouring. The two of you sat on a couch, and he eventually cozied up to you, wrapping an arm to pull you close. Just as he was on the topic of bringing you to Montauk to the summer, Nixon, of course, had come by.

“Hey, smartass. What the hell are you doing?” Nixon spat, the alcohol evident in his voice.

Smartass was now his name, and you couldn’t even remember it. Smartness looked up at Nixon, shrugging, “Talking to this pretty little thing. Why don’t you go back to drinking and ruining your family name?”

That comment was enough to make Nixon throw a punch, once again bring shame to his family, and get the two of you kicked out of the party. Lewis tried to talk to you, but you ignored every word he said until you reached the apartment.

“What is your problem?” Nixon asked, closing the apartment door. You threw off his jacket, throwing it onto the ledge of the loveseat.

You let out a snort at his unbelievable behavior. He acted as if he did nothing wrong.

“Are you serious? What is your problem!” You hissed back, “You can’t control yourself in drinking, let alone with me hanging out with other men. Face it, you’re just some spoiled , jealous, alcoholic.”

Lewis ignored all of those other comments and chose to focus on the most petty of them. “I’m not jealous!”

“Ha! You clearly are!” You quickly quipped back, walking towards him as he pointed your finger at his chest. “Look at you! Getting all angry, throwing punches. Just for a little investment! After all, I’m just what you use when you need a distraction from all of your other life problems. Just like all of your failed marriages.”

Your eyes began to feel watery and you spun around, biting your lip as he attempted to hold it together. This hurts more than you wanted it to, and no matter what you did, the waterworks wouldn’t stop.

Despite being drunk, Lewis could sense what he did was wrong, and he fucked up-bad. He was drunk, frustrated, and had no control of what he was doing.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean that.”

“Like I mean anything to you,” You sniffled, wrapping your arms around yourself, “The only reason I came was because I wanted...something more than an arrangement. I, fuck-love you, damnit.”

There was a silence in the room, and you felt cold. Goosebumps trailed all over your body as you bit your lip to contain your sobs. Suddenly, a pair of arms held your shoulders and turned around. Knowing it was Nixon, you wanted to punch him, but your head fell into his chest as you let out a long sigh.

He rested his head in your hair, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you close to his warm body.

““I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that but yeah, I love you too.” Nixon said into your hair, drawing circles into your back. “How mad would you be if I kissed you?”

“Absouetly fucking furious.” You tilted your head up as Nixon grabbed your chin, and your lips collided. It was a beautiful and messy lip with lounges smearing against each other. The messier it got, the more passionate it was. Eventually, the kiss calmed into a fiery disaster into a slow moving dance. Through the kisses, you let out a moan, which made Nixon’s hand go lower down your back. You separated from the kiss to catch some air.

“Why’d you stop, my dear?”

You playfully slapped his chest, “You’re lucky you’re hot. Can we go to bed, please?”

The older man swooped you and carried you to bed, treating you like the royalty you were. Once you were placed in bed with Penny by your side, Lewis crawled in next to you, holding you close.

“That’s why I asked you to come, y’know. I wanted to tell you, but I thought you’d say no.”

“For someone so smart, you don’t pick up on cues. Lewis Nixon, I love you, but you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“I’m your idiot, dollface.” Nixon smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. You felt his body weight onto you as you patted his shoulder, giggling.

“Have you ever thought about how much worse our lives would be without each other?”

Lewis pressed little kisses into your hair before stopping his kissing parade to stare at you. He moved the bangs from your face, letting his hand rest on your skin. “The world could be on fire and I'd still be happy as long as I'm with you.”

Once again, Lewis brought you close and the two of you made passionate love. It wasn’t out of frustration or anger or a distraction, but it was raw, genuine, and emotional. It was all you ever asked.

~

A patterned knock on the door prompted you to stop unpacking the books from your book and to call, “Come in!”

Turning around, you saw Lewis walk in, along with Penny, who was scrambling in on her tiny feet.

“Well look at what the cat dragged in.” You smirked, and Lewis threw his arms up. He held a photo in his hand. You returned to putting the last of your textbooks on your desk, gently patting them down.

“How’s the unpacking going?” Lewis asked as he picked up Penny, who was squirming to attack your face with kisses. You walked over and gave both Penny and Lewis a quick peck. You admired your brand new Burkburnett Desk with Hutch. Photos, memorabilia from Europe, books, and pencils decorated your desk for school.

“Good. Turns out, living in a penthouse is a thousand times better than being a dormitory.” You said, leaning your shoulder against Lew’s as you played with Penny’s floppy ears. After some decision, Lewis had made your relationship official, but to both of your parents distaste. Your parents thought Lewis was a creep, his parents thought you were vixens. As Lewis said, the thanksgiving we're going to be interesting. So Lewis decided that you should move in with him, which you didn’t reject. Tribeca wasn’t that far from Bronoxville.

“Good girl/boy. I’m glad you already like it here.” Lewis cooed into your ear, placing a tender peck. “I got an addition for your desk.”

Lewis pulled the photo and showed you. A smile appeared on your face as you took the beautiful frame. It was a black and white photo of you and Lewis, having dinner on top of the Refinery Rooftop. Both of you had your hands together on the table, smiling as the sun set in the sky. Despite there being no colors, it was a breathtaking photo.

“I know just where to put this.” You breathed, walking towards your deck. Right next to your light and glasses was where the photo went. Next to it, a photo of Lew holding a two week old Pepper, a gift from Blanche. More like Blackmail according to Nixon, but you didn’t care. “There. Perfect. Now I’m all moved in.”

Lew snuck up behind you, snaking his hands around your waist as he rested his head on your shoulder. You leaned back with a subtle smile, putting one of your hands on his own.

“Since you’re here to stay, I was thinking of dining in tonight. Blanche’s coming over too.”

“She is?” You hummed.

“Yup. I Want to see the new place, since you came in and cleaned it up.” Lewis mumbled, “How does that sound?”

“That sounds great. Just peachy, Lew.”

You and Lewis fell in love during the war. You were there for eachother in your worst moments and pulled each other up when you both needed it most. But nothing is ever easy in life. You fight. It’s rough. You fight, breakup, kiss, and makeup. With Lewis’s recovery and your family disowning you, the path down the road won’t be easy. You know that you and Lew will face thousands of hardships, but it’s ok. You have each other, and it’s not perfect at all. But it works, and that’s all that matters.

[necronatural]

gintama for the ask meme? <3

blorbo: gin is everyone's blorbo from shows.

scrunkly: i want to rub my knuckles into kamui's head. i think gintama is synthesized exactly to not contain cuteness aggression but he gives me "dawww you knucklehead" compulsions

scrimblo bimblo: hasegawa [EVERYONE BOOS] and kurokono tasuke [BOOING BECOMES CONFUSED AND UNSURE]

glup shitto: kurokono tasuke [booing becomes more confident] listen the concept of J4's quiet friend that always hangs out with them but fades into the background and whom they eventually just forgot because he contributes nothing to the group dynamic and isn't a good fighter and is the shittiest guy in his squad and had to just fucking LEAVE because he meant nothing to the war effort but he still helps his old battle friends. and then takasugi who is the most conscious of the people who he's leaving behind in his death march to the end of the world seems to be the only one who remembered him to the point that takasugi's underlings in the very least know his name and the cringiest thing that ever happened to him (the bomb). and its obvious they don't know anything else which makes the episode way funnier btw like 'shinsuke-sama's old war friend...animename gotblownup....' LMAO. i would love to see more of him because he is so conceptually fascinating but i also think the show would be ruined if he did anything except be a background extra. maybe he is. maybe hes always with us. contributing nothing

poor little meow meow: why i like hasegawa. i think him succeeding in life was the biggest betrayal of the timeskip. but takasugi definitely. like a squeaky toy that makes gasping squeaky chicken sounds instead. multiple people have said oboro is my type of character but honestly i think he's a bitch and if he were a proper meow meow he could have his place in the pantheon of gintama favs

horse plinko: doesn't this show torment characters enough.

eeby deeby: umibouzu

realizing with this meme it digs into a world beyond your favs. There's no room for the heights of Kagura or the comedic lows of Sacchan or the UILF hotness of abuto. I feel like I could add an extra paragraph about Hijikata like I could force him into horseplinko or eeby deeby but the sad thing is i would resent the show for making me watch him longer than i had to. he has a blandness that begs antipathy. i think he exists to make sougo funnier

[supercantaloupe]

on Aelwyn Abernant, the Reformed Villain Squad, and redeeming teenage antagonists

an analysis on antagonist character development in Fantasy High. spoilers through sophomore year and (mildly so) the most recent roll20 oneshot. essay under the cut bc i am very long winded

the turnaround with Aelwyn in s2 is handled so well  i cant get over it. she was such a major antagonist in the first season and just. despicable. she had no pathos. we hated this bitchy older sister who tried to kill Adaine and her friends and raise an evil dragon, and when she gets knocked on her ass and thrown in jail, we cheer.

and then s2 fucking starts saying “hey she’s in jail still if you’d like to look into that” and pursuing that thread ends up being almost as comedic an idea as it is a reluctant one; it’s also quickly shunted to the background as soon as more pressing leads present themselves, to the point where we almost forget about her until Adaine is kidnapped and then the first time you see her it’s just. viscerally upsetting.

she’s bad. she did evil. she got what she deserved.

but she already got what she deserved. last season.

she got her ass handed to her by a bunch of 14 year olds including her little sister (how embarrassing!). her plans were thwarted. she got punched in the face and made fun of. she already got her punishment.

it just……immediately registers as over-the-top Wrong to be told “hey, remember that antagonist you beat last season? she’s still being punished for that, except it’s way worse than just going to mumple.”

and there’s that reminder that like…this is a teenager. a child. who has been manipulated and abused. which is a really fascinating look at this character we used to see pretty much unilaterally as a one dimensional bitchy villain.

i mean we got a more in depth look at Penelope’s and Biz’s motivations in s1 (Penelope being the popular rich girl sorceress obviously hungry for power and the alllure of the high school clout that is being prom queen, but also we know that her having to turn on her best friend Sam Nightingale as part of the scheme was something she was reluctant and not happy to do; and Biz being that predatory incel creeper type dude besides just a nerd with computers and a lack of social graces). and they were as much willingly active in the plot as Aelwyn was. yet in s1 they really never do bother to explore Aelwyn’s motivations. i remember after watching s1 but before s2 that was one of my biggest lingering questions: why tf was Aelwyn involved?

well. she was manipulated and abused. her terrible parents raised her in an awful environment that conditioned her to Listen and Obey and Behave and Be Perfect, and then Kalina helped cinch the noose around her neck with threats and coersion into the KVS Kaper and the NMK crown debacle. she doesn’t freely choose any of it; she’s coerced, manipulated, abused.

and she already got justifiably punished for her bad actions in s1. the torture is almost literal overkill. it’s just……there’s this immediate turnaround in sympathy and view of the character. on first watch, it’s viscerally upsetting to see her getting so brutally punished for actions she already faced consequences for, and on rewatch, it makes your skin crawl to know she’s being tortured for terrible things she had little choice in carrying out. and tortured by some of the very same people who coerced her to behave terribly in the first place, to add insult to injury.

and it’s still fucking frustrating when they rescue her and her memory gets reset and she goes back to her parents because it’s like “well shit, she’s evil again, and we just wasted all that effort for nothing” but it’s also sad cause we know she’s running back to her abusers and she isn’t happy about it but doesn’t feel like she has a choice. and it’s sadder still that what eventually inevitably gets her to turn to good for good (i.e. away from her parents) is just. a full dissociative mental breakdown.

(but then she survives and it’s gonna be good!!! until Adaine dies in her fucking arms. which is. almost funny. she’s been through so much shit and that isn’t something that Brennan would have just. preplanned. like a written in plot point. no, that was just an unpredictable consequence of the battle. what a juicy fucking moment. she’s been through All That Shit™️ and has finally turned to fight for good and her sister just fully dies in front of her. yeowch)

and she turns out okay in the end. she comes out the other side alive and whole and supported by her sister and her friends, with the hope of a future and recovery. there is an acknowledgement that A) she can and will grow from her mistakes and damage, B) it’s going to be really hard, and C) the post-s2 one shots both prove that she’s doing okay now. hell, she has a whole squad now of other former-teenage-villains-turned-good-guys. she has friends now, Ragh and Zayn, with common ground, and a secret handshake and everything. they’ve all grown from the mistakes of their past into better, happier, healthier people

and about Zayn and Ragh. we’ve seen a lot of characters, protagonist and antagonist, teenage and adult, PC and NPC do some really fucked up shit and get punished for it. but why do they get happy endings? why are Aelwyn, Ragh, and Zayn the only members of the RVS and not someone else like Biz or Penelope or Dayne? 

well, the latter two are dead by then; but then again, Biz and Ragh were also killed by the Bad Kids in s1, and subsequently resurrected. (Zayn died too, but was neither killed nor revived at the Bad Kids’ hands, so i’ll get to him in a sec.) and there are plenty of adult antagonists the Bad Kids face who are killed and left that way by the Bad Kids without second thought: Johnny Spells, Coach Daybreak, Captain Wicklaw, the Abernant parents (presuming Arianwen doesn’t survive in the forest for very long, which i doubt). why do some characters get second chances while others don’t?

in the case of Zayn, his death was pretty much out of the Bad Kids’ hands, and they later found out he was manipulated by Daybreak into being bad anyway because of his sad living situation. he was a pretty minor antagonist in the scheme of things, and when we re-meet him as a ghost in the s1 epilogue, he’s pretty obviously remorseful for his actions. and dying seems like a steep enough punishment to me for the shit he did to contribute to the KVX caper; returning as a ghost, free from the trappings of his unfortunate living life, he now has the room and freedom to grow into a better person.

in the cases of Daybreak, Spells, Wicklaw, and the Abernant parents: these are bad people who should know better. these are fully grown adults who actively choose to do evil. whether they think it’s the right thing to do or not (in Daybreak’s case), whether they think it will benefit them and don’t care about anyone else (in the Abernants’ case), or whether they don’t care much at all and are just doing shit because they feel like it (in the cases of Spells and Wicklaw), these are all adults who consciously make the decision to do terrible things and hurt other people. of course Johnny Spells, who is generally a punk thief and thug, is not on the same level of bad as Angwyn, who kidnaps and tortures his own daughters for political gain, but the point remains. these fuckers should know better. they’re grown ups. they had their chances to be good and they chose not to heed them. their minds are set on bad actions and they are a continued danger to other people as long as they are alive. when they die, the Bad Kids do their damndest to make sure it stays that way.

now, in the cases of Penelope and Dayne: these are teenagers who actively chose to participate in an evil plot. Penelope, Dayne, and Biz were all fully cognizant of what they were doing trying to raise KVX back to his former power. why? well, to some extent, we can only speculate. i suspect Penelope was just one of those Regina George bitches who is rich and popular and powerful and obsessed with power and popularity within high school as if that’s the end-all-be-all of existence (which, like, when you’re currently in high school, is a somewhat understandable worldview i think). Dayne being her boyfriend and a musclehead jock probably falls into a similar line of thinking. they are actively and willingly trying to cause harm, and teenager or not, must be stopped. they’re killed, anyway, during the Climactic Battle™️ anyhow; it’s not like the Bad Kids were going to gain anything at that point by keeping them alive.

now, Biz: Biz is the creepy Nice Guy incel type, sees woman as a prize he deserves to win, yadda yadda. he does, like Penelope and Dayne, actively choose to help KVX. there might be something to be said about his motivation the Bad Kids discover after the arcade battle by detecting his thoughts (that being to upload the captured maidens from the palimpsests to “call the shots” himself) is an altered memory; whether this was his original motivation from the start or not, i’m not sure. but the Bad Kids do kill him – and then resurrect him for important, time-sensitive information. and they beat it out of him – he gets two of his fucking fingers blown off. and Riz reattaches them once they have their info, and they realize his memory is altered. of course, the Bad Kids don’t know at this point that the altered memory was something he, Penelope, and Aelwyn had planned and agreed on and done to themselves, but this points to something important in my opinion: the Bad Kids, and the narrative/show as a whole by extension, acknowledge that external manipulation affects how guilty someone is in a crime.

which brings us to Ragh. Ragh, introduced from episode 1 as the meathead jock. Ragh the archetypical one-dimensional high school bully. Ragh who works with the harvestmen in effort to (ostensibly) end the world/provoke international war. Ragh, whose low intelligence but high loyalty and internalized homophobia led him to be fully swayed and blindly led by his coach and captain, who have actively chosen to do evil. Ragh who is killed in combat by the Bad Kids and resurrected for information, not Daybreak. Ragh, who the Bad Kids realize was probably not aware of exactly what he was being made to do and how bad it really was. Ragh, who by their kindness in sparing his life and directing him on a better path, becomes a well-rounded character and an active ally to the Bad Kids during and after prom, an invaluable companion during their quest in sophomore year, and overall a really good friend and person. 

(it might also be worth considering the case of Jawbone here, too, who started out a very minor antagonist in a fight but ended up becoming a major NPC because the Bad Kids talked to him, found out he came from an unfortunate situation and set of circumstances, and showed him kindness in offering the school guidance counselor position, a kindness that isn’t really owed but given anyway and ends up changing his entire life for good.)

and then, Aelwyn, whose case is already discussed above. so, why is the RVS what it is, why them but not others?

if you’re familiar with Avatar: the Last Airbender, you’re probably familiar with Zuko’s character arc, and how it’s often lauded as a masterful example of developing a villain into a hero over the course of a narrative. what makes Zuko’s arc so well done and exceptional is that he starts out as a kid in a bad situation under the influence of bad adults seeking to do bad deeds, but he later realizes the error of those ways, actively removes himself from that situation despite the difficulty and danger in doing so, goes through a lot of shit and reflects on his past mistakes and learns from them, and then actively chooses to fight for good in the end with the help of close, trusted friends, found family. 

this, i believe, is the same in the case of Fantasy High and its treatment of the RVS. its members, like Zuko, are all teenagers who came from shitty situations and were manipulated by evil adults to do bad. they are punished for their bad actions, and they learn from their errors and mistakes. with the kindness and help of good people, friends and chosen family, they are able to escape their abusers and bad situations and grow into their own people. and they actively choose to improve themselves with that help and fight for good.

Fantasy High, through the arcs of Jawbone, Zayn, Ragh, and especially Aelwyn, asserts that it is not your fault if you come from a bad situation and are forced to behave badly as a result. it does not pretend that you are absolved of any responsibility for those actions; quite the opposite, as even though they were externally manipulated into their evil actions, all of those mentioned characters face tangible consequences for their actions and later express remorse for their mistakes. but Fantasy High also asserts that even if you have made great mistakes in your past, even if you came from a bad situation beyond your control, even if you were manipulated and abused, with care and love and support and a hell of a lot of work and effort, you can improve your situation and find good, happiness, peace, you can thrive. evil adults who should know better don’t get redeemed. teenagers who aren’t coerced but actively choose evil don’t get redeemed. but abused kids deserve another shot at happiness. with enough work, and some love and help along the way, they can get there, even from the lowest imaginable point, from rock fucking buttom. it’s possible. 

[samatedeansbroccoli]

Like Father Like Son

Soap injures himself on the training course. Luckily, someone is there to help pick him back up.

Characters: John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price Words: ~1.1K

Warnings: Mentioned descriptions of bleeding.

Notification squad: (let me know if you want to be added or removed in the future!) @enderio @echo-three-one 

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first MW fanfic I’ve written, and I wanted to get a feel for the characters before I dive into deeper topics. So here’s a lighthearted/comedic story to test my skills out. 

Enjoy!

What a strange sight it was, seeing the war-hardened captain John Price tenderly treating Soap's open wound after the F.N.G decided to fall on the training course. 

In hindsight, it was a stupid fall. One that could have been avoided had Soap listened to Price. The Scot had already taken a few runs through the training course, and though he was winded, he kept shaving off a few seconds with each run, motivating him to keep trying. But no matter how well he did, it wasn’t enough. Price’s snarky remark of “What the hell kind of name is Soap?” left him with the impression the captain would be a hard one to please, and Soap wanted nothing more than to beat the training course with the fastest record and smirk back at Price, saying “They call me Soap because I’m slippery fast through the course.”

He’d think of something less cringy later.

The longer he spent on the course, the more pain he felt, with his muscles on fire and his lungs screaming to catch a break. Climbing the ladder became tedious each round, the ladder growing longer every time he approached it. By the ninth run, Soap’s head was spinning as he reached for the ladder.

And that’s when Price decided to speak up. “Soap, we can’t stand here all day. You can train later.”

“One more?” Soap asked hopefully. “I’ll make this one count, sir.”

If Price could roll his eyes, he would. But the man had more class than that—or so Soap headcanoned—and he gave a small sigh instead. “One more. Then you stop ‘fore you break something.”

“Thank you, sir.” And Soap scaled the ladder to the platform above, eager to not disappoint. He grabbed some stuns and prepared his gun, then waited for the go-ahead. Upon hearing Price’s mark, Soap jumped to the rope and slid down, his head envisioning his run and plotting out the quickest and fastest way to follow the walls. 

So was the intention. In reality, his tired fingers barely found their way around the rope, drawing just enough strength to slow his fall as he misstepped off the platform. Next thing he remembered, he was on the ground, hand having come free from the rope. Dizziness and exhaustion finally got the better of his head his head and though he tried to get up, his muscles yelled at him and kept him down, angry with his overexertion. Soap had no choice but to give up and studied the ceiling.

Well, this was embarrassing.

Reality came back to him when the tornado in his head calmed and found Price standing over him, calling his name. Soap blinked away the blurriness and hoped his cheeks weren’t bright red as he stared into the captain’s face. “Can you hear me, son?” Price’s muffled voice asked through the Scot’s ringing ears. Behind the captain, a few others stood around, ready if more hands were needed.

Soap groaned. “Aye…” 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” 

“Two.”

“Where are you right now?”

“SAS training compound in Credenhill.” 

“Good. Now come on, chop chop. We don’t have all day.” And with that, he walked off, leaving Soap to get up on his own, the F.N.G biting back a cry of pain. 

Soap followed Price away from the training course and to the monitors. He listened to the debrief, watching the images fly before his eyes, but all he could think about was his dumbass mistake. Which was stupid, considering everyone else moved on, but there it was, floating in his head and taunting him. Guess it was true: how the hell did a muppet like him pass inspection?

By the time the team was finally dismissed, Soap couldn’t wait to get out of there. He thanked Price for letting him tag along then quickly left the facility, no longer wanting to be near the guy. 

Sadly, he didn’t make it far before Price decided he wasn’t done with the F.N.G.  “Soap, wait.” And Soap stopped to see Price walking behind him. “You’re bleeding.”

Not what he expected to hear but hey, better than ‘you’re fired.’ Still, when he looked down at his body, he didn’t see any blood. He returned his eyes to Price, one eyebrow knitted. “Am I, now?”

Price nodded and pointed to Soap’s arm, bringing Soap’s gaze back to his body. Much to the younger man’s dismay, he was bleeding, and rather profoundly. The entire lower sleeve of his shirt, starting from the elbow, had been touched with blood pooling through the fabric. 

Before he could say more, Price set his hand to Soap’s back, guiding him across the facility grounds and to his office. “Right then, let’s get you patched up, shall we?”

“Sir, I—“ 

But Price wouldn’t listen to exceptions and Soap soon realized it was better to just roll with it. Not that he had complaints about it. In Price’s office, though he was still embarrassed about his blunder, it was nice to get away from other prying eyes. Not so nice that it happened to be Price who was the only one that could see him now. He kept his line of sight pinned to the floor as the Brit instructed him to roll up his sleeve and expose the rather large cut along his elbow. 

“Quite the nasty fall you took there, son,” Price said, wiping the blood away.

Soap remained quiet for a little longer, trying to formulate words. What do you even say in this situation? Any other officer would have chewed him out for being a fandan or told him to get up and keep running the course. Never had an officer taken the time to care for his injuries, let alone patch them up. 

“I’m sorry,” Soap muttered quietly. “I should have listened to you.” 

“What’s in the past stays in the past.” Price now had bandages in his hand, wrapping Soap’s arm with great care and making sure it hugged against his skin comfortably. 

“Yes, sir.” 

The two fell silent until Price finished his handiwork. He let Soap admire it for a minute before speaking. “Get some rest, yeah? We got a big day tomorrow.” 

“Aye.” Soap shot a weak smile towards Price, who gave a rather warm one in return. “Thank you, sir. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“What the hell kind of monster do you think we are, ey?” Soap fell silent, embarrassed once again as Price gave a hearty laugh. “Come on, son, you’re not the first recruit who’s fallen on the course.” He slapped Soap’s shoulder then gave it a squeeze before leading him towards the door. “Now go on. I’ll see you bright and early.” 

“Yes, sir.” Soap eased himself from Price’s grasp and opened the door, taking a step out, then stopping. “One question, if you don’t mind?”

“Yeah?”

“Why did you bring me here to help me? Coulda brought me to the medbay, I’d’ve been fine.” 

Price gave a shrug. “What can I say? My mentor did the same thing for me when I fell off the rope.”

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 7/6/21

im in the middle of moving so this is a weird one. i know i say that about all of them but i am thoroughly off kilter this week

listening mcr’s kiss the ring. i would really love to say that im listening to a lot of new shit bc the new place is kind of a hike from my current apartment but no! im just listening to the same four hour playlist of songs that remind me of my sad cowboys.

im mildly obsessed with mcr’s weird little album Danger Days. it sounds nothing like the rest of their shit. it’s great. did you know there were a whole bunch of singles before the album proper that were eventually collated into the EP Conventional Weapons?

more of an au than whatever the fuck im up to but i do VERY much love a loud angry sneering song from someone trapped in a system they hate

reading fallow week. ballard’s the drowned world is in a box of books at the new place and while i could find an ebook that would take effort away from vegging out on star wars fic from 2013

watching kung fu hustle (2004, dir Chow) somewhat asynchronously with a weekly movie watching...group? club? what are we...

anyway this movie makes me happy bc everything happens so much all of the time and all of it is ridiculous. the comedic beats are down to the fucking millisecond. i read an article when i was in middle school about how the road runner looney tunes cartoons had the beats between a specific type of joke and the punchline timed down to the actual animation frames (something like twenty-two? a TINY number) and watching the things happening in this very silly movie feels like that sometimes. i love a movie that gets in, does what it wants to do, and gets out in an hour and forty minutes.  

this is a film that is jammed full of references to other movies the director likes, but the main thing that makes them work is they stand alone. i have never seen The Blues Brothers but the Blues Brothers homage characters in this film are a goddamn delight to watch in their fight scene. apparently the line “strictly speaking, we’re just musicians” is a direct quote, but it works so well in this movie on its own. delicious. i keep this movie next to the nutella in the back of my pantry for when i am extremely sad and eat it with a tiny gold spoon

playing real-life tetrising all my belongings into a small hatchback and into a new apartment tiny islands by david king is short enough that nobody notices when i play a round during my workday and soothing enough it resets my brain a little. i am really picky about deck building games but this is more of a card mechanic than an actual deck builder.

you get two cards every turn that you have to place on a blank map and then draw island boundaries around whatever you place in order to get the highest score. it’s a delight. it’s free. it runs right in your browser.

making i had a brief mild panic bc i did no textile crimes this week and then remembered i wrote a wholeass fic. enjoy my p**nography, it got a hundred hits in its first twenty four hours. for an incredibly obscure f/f/f pairing i think that’s pretty great

no punches left to roll with [E, F/F, 1212 words]

Fallout: New Vegas, female Courier/Veronica Santangelo/Christine Royce

Beds are for sleeping and having a pretty girl sprawled out across your lap like a centerfold. Beds are not for reading pre-war nerd magazines.

[oldsmobile-hotdogs]

Questions for crossover jatp ghosts crossover fic: I hope Julian and the sunset curve boys talk about the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Yugoslav wars that happened when they were alive + Bill Cilnton. I wonder what pat and the band would talk about considering that they would of been kids when pat died? Do you think Julie would think of Les Mis and Hamilton cos Thomas and Kitty are from about the same time period as those musicals? I hope Julie calls Fanny Mary poppins.

Anon, or "Mimi", or "Lulu", or, heck, maybe even "Carl Birtles": Update: Not Carl Birtles. Carl Birtles sent me an ask and is cool, actually.

Stop. Right now. I'd say stop while you're ahead, but you are so far away from ahead at this point it's laughable.

For everyone confused, this is that "commenter from AO3" I joked about making a 2017-esque story time video about.

A couple days ago I uploaded the first chapter of a Julie and the Phantoms/BBC Ghosts crossover fic.

You know what? I’m gonna promo it here bc it’s my callout post and I can shill if I want to: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30681704/chapters/76661471

It was generally very well received and I've had a blast interacting with readers.

Except for this.

Honestly, there's so much to get into, so I’m putting it under a cut:

This was their first correspondence (email notif bc I deleted the comment, the deletion to be explained later):

(Funnily enough, the links very much do not work on AO3, making the comment only more jarring)

I gave you *so much* benefit of the doubt when I saw this comment, and assumed that maybe you're an ESL user, just very enthusiastic to share ideas, and I pretty much said so in my reply, but know that at that point I'd already had friends- who fucking know about this, don't you dare think you're getting me alone- tell me that you were being very demanding.

Below was my reply (another email notif):

I'm gonna be honest, I think I responded really well to what I was given, and now that I'd replied, I was pretty certain the situation was dealt with. You, evidently, didn't agree, as shown by your reply to my reply:

A word of advice: when replying to someone, at least pretend like you read what they wrote.

At this point I'm left wondering two things:

What do they expect from me, if a general reply is not it?

How much more shit do they have waiting to tell me to put in my- reminder, JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover, rated T, comedic- fic?

In order to avoid finding out either, I freeze the thread on AO3. I'm liveblogging all of this on Discord.

It's then that I notice that the username on AO3 isn't clickable, so even if I wanted to block or report them I couldn't. I assume, therefore, that they've deactivated, and since them seeing their comments gone and getting angry was the only thing stopping me deleting the comments, I delete the comments.

It's also at this point I see "Mimi" never left kudos. I guess I don't deserve praise until I mention "Bill Cilnton".

There's relative calm for a short amount of time, until I get another comment:

This one is much kinder than the others and doesn't mention any specific, weird, historical events, so the extent to which I think this is "Mimi" is debatable, but bestie I'm weirded out enough that anything that even uses the enter bar unnecessarily and misses out conjunctive words like "because" and "and" is going to activate fight or flight. Update: Carl Birtles is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl was just being genuinely kind and I misinterpreted it and that's on me.

However, "Carl"'s case is not helped by the fact I can't click his account either, that AO3 offers me the ability to report it as spam, and that guess who replies to "Carl"'s comment: Update: Carl, having done nothing wrong as he has, is therefore also a victim in the situation that is being replied to by Lulu. It would seem Lulu is trying to correct??? some of Carl's commentary.

You must think I didn't get a 7 on my English Literature GCSE because you seem to underestimate my ability to compare two texts.

So clearly this is "Mimi", who has also just replied to "Carl". "Lulu" is also deactivated, and I've fallen off the end of my tether, let alone reached it, at this point so I mark it as spam. "Carl" gets to stay bc he said the idea for the crossover was good. Update: Carl also gets to continue to stay because I have it on good faith that he's a stand-up dude.

So at this point you've readily admitted through your inability to shake up your writing style to using at least one sockpuppet to convince me to talk about the "Yugoslav wars".

If "Carl Birtles" is the real(-est) of them, and "Mimi" and "Lulu" are the sockpuppets, by the way, I have questions and ideas about what you do on your free evenings and I want them neither confirmed nor answered. Update: This is slanderous and I want to apologise wholeheartedly to Carl for making assumptions about him and judging his character. Once again, he is not Mimi or Lulu. He's just a normal, cool guy.

And now you come to me, on the day of my daughter's wedding on a different platform, leave me an anon ask in the exact same format as you're so fond of, and expect any different ??

Well, yeah, then I guess I'll give you special treatment this time.

Here's exactly why I will never include anything you have told me to include:

Julian and the Phantoms discussing the Berlin Wall would be highly inappropriate for the largely fluffy, cracky tone of my fanfiction, especially given how recently the event occurred, how many Eastern Germans still experience prejudice to this day because they were born within the old borders of the DDR, and because of how nuanced this, essentially proxy war, was and how ill-informed a huge amount of the world is on the actual factors in play during this time and the Cold War in general.

Julian and the Phantoms will not discuss Yugoslavia dissolving, nor the fallout and conflict that resulted, because it was genocidal. There is nowhere I can fit Julian, pantsted, casually asking Luke “hey do you remember when the Herzegovinas were killed en masse by the Serbs?” Not gonna happen.

They won’t discuss Bill Clinton because all of them know who the current world leaders are: they don’t have amnesia, they’re ghosts. The fic is also rated T, so it would be inappropriate to make any explicit reference to “sexual relations”. None of them play saxophone.

Julie wouldn’t think of Les Mis or Hamilton because Thomas is Regency, not French Revolution, and Kitty is Georgian, not Colonial.

Julie won’t be calling Fanny Mary Poppins because she is perpetually stuck in a white dress, doesn’t wear a hat, doesn’t own an umbrella or a purse and was not the nanny or housekeeper of Button House.

The ghosts will not discuss the marvels of modern transportation or how long it would’ve taken to cross the Atlantic on dinghy because the ghosts have seen Friends. The house irl is on a flight path. They know airplanes exist. Alison and Mike pulled up in a car.

I will probably have the phantoms and Willie talk to Pat and Julian about being from the ‘80s and ‘90s. That I will actually probably do.

The Captain will not mention FD Roosevelt because, again, they all know who the current world leaders are, and I doubt he expects a ‘90s pop punk band to have any insider knowledge on the man.

It was interesting to think of the phantoms’ grandparents having been alive during WW2. I wasn’t lying. But there is nearly nothing I can do with this information.

But above all: both sets of ghosts have already adapted to modern life. Because the shows are shorter, and meant to actually be able to fit jokes in them.

If you want to see any of this, write your own damn fic. I don’t own the concept of a JATP/BBC Ghosts crossover.

What you will not do, “consonant-vowel-consonant-vowel”-nim, is hound me on multiple accounts and then change platform to hound me again. I’m absolutely not having it.

I have never received an interaction quite like this before, and I cannot help but wonder if this is because this is my first work in the Ghosts/HH/Them There/Six Idiots/Yonderland/Bill fandom: that this is where you primarily camp out.

So it’s at this point I ask the Them There/Six Idiots fandom if they have/if they know anyone who has had a run-in with this person or thinks they may have, or if anyone perhaps even knows who this is? Maybe I’m just one of many. Maybe this is a necessary fandom evil I was unaware of.

This experience has left me royally freaked out, as one might imagine, especially since my anxiety in general has been acting up due to it being exam season. I want to thank everyone who’s read my rambles on Discord and on here and even listened to them irl and offered support from the bottom of my heart.

I’ve enabled comment moderation on the fic. I will continue to write it, and I will put exactly what I, and only what I, want in it.

Believe it or not, I wanted to do literally anything else today.

Anon: Fucking Leave Me Alone.

Update: Just reiterating: Carl is not Mimi or Lulu. Carl is a cool dude and I want to sincerely apologise for having brought him into this mess, passing judgment on his character, and making him feel like he should stop practicing English online.