#mostly because this isn’t the golden age billy)

[kenandeliza]

A random thought / headcanon

Superman learns knitting/sewing, deciding to give an “ugly sweater” to his friends, including captain marvel

He doesn’t make them ugly intentionally, he’s just bad at making designs

[hargrove-mayfields]

Since you like hollogrove how bout a fic with autistic heather and golden retriever boyfriend billy?

warnings for: background discussions of emotional and physical child abuse, ableism, and misogyny.

Her mother says he’s trouble, that Billy Hargrove just isn’t the type a sweet little girl like Heather Holloway should be going after, but for starters, she isn’t a little girl anymore, and another thing, Billy is probably nicer than she’d ever been. They’d be surprised if they knew who she really was.

Her mother just doesn’t approve of Billy, because of course she wouldn’t. She prefers to set her daughter up on dates with men she hand picked for her, her excuse being that she didn’t trust the world, that too many scary things happen in the news to let her princess date on her own. That’s just the thing all the mothers like her say to control their daughters. She just wants Heather to marry a rich man twice her age, someone who could take the burden that was a disabled daughter with a bad attitude and whip her into shape.

But Heather never wanted that, she wanted someone who actually cared, not a man to take control of her life and to sign over her rights to just to fill the role of being a housewife, which had never been of any interest to her, and that is where Billy had come into the picture.

They met at a basketball game. Heather was a cheerleader because her best friend Chrissy was, and he was the school's new point guard, which is such a cliché, but was kind of perfect for a girl like Heather. Every other part of her life was already so meticulously planned, so why not this too?

At first glance, she wasn’t all that impressed by this Billy Hargrove character. She noticed the way all the other cheerleaders would swoon and cheer that much louder for their dreamy number six, but she couldn’t be bothered with all that. She did cheer because she learned to like it and because it was the only sport the school would let her do, swimming and volleyball and tennis, the sports she was actually interested in all apparently ‘too competitive’ for her.

Not that she’d ever really spared Billy more than a passing look anyways, mostly because she was too determined not to be another one of those trust fund daddy’s girls chasing after some no good punker with a too sweet smile just to disappoint her parents and break her own heart. Though it was kind of inevitable that with the crossover of their interests, and their place among the highest rungs of the social ladder at Hawkins High, their paths were bound to meet at some point.

At half time at double championship games, Heather was technically supposed to go with the rest of the girls up to the student section but, and she still could never be sure if this was to hide the fact that they have an autistic cheerleader on the squad or to actually be considerate of her sensitivity to loud noises that made going up in the stands next to impossible, but she got the special ‘privilege’ of going to work in the concession stand in the lobby where her mother worked instead.

It's still not the greatest, her, her mother, and at least four other volunteers all crammed into that tiny stand with people on all sides of it shouting out orders, but because she had headphones that matched her uniform they agreed to let her wear them in the stand, so the noise wasn’t too bad. Besides, that was never really the worst part for Heather anyways.

The part she really didn’t like was having to serve all the creepy dads and pimple faced freshman boys who’d been watching her cheer with a little too much focus on her high kick. She sometimes had regulars who would come to the stand just to see her and she had to serve them all with a tight saccharine smile, and that was supposed to be something she enjoyed. And they have the nerve to wonder why she’s such a bitch to them.

But it’s wasn’t something she could even pretend to be okay with, for obvious reasons that was the very last thing she wanted, so just like every other night, she ended up tapping her mother on the shoulder and walking out through the back doors of the school, sulking on a plastic crate behind the building and worrying the stiff fabric of her green and white skirt between her fingertips until they were raw while her mother continued selling overpriced candy bars, glittery t-shirts, and promises of a chance with her beautiful teenage socialite.

All of it was too much, in the grand arch of her life and in the now. Something about tonight just doesn’t feel nice, and this is the closest she’d felt in a while to a meltdown.

Her head was fuzzy and blurry already, on the brink of losing control, and so she sat down without processing what was around her. Just looking up at the blinking street light and taking a few deep breaths in.

That turned out to be a mistake. The wind caught a cloud of cigarette smoke, the strong smell blowing right back in her face and taking all those overwhelming emotions she’d had, shoving them right over the edge. That was her limit.

As it turned out, like the real smart ass he is, number six apparently would use his ten minutes off the court to ruin his lung capacity. Did Heather mention she never thought this Billy kid was the brightest?

But she will give him credit, because he at least caught it when she started to cry.

“Woah, Holloway. What’s bothering you?”

She remembers looking up at him and just crumbling. She hadn’t known Billy yet and she sure as sin didn’t like him, but when she had sobbed in place of her words, her hands curled up into two tight fists that hurt her knuckles and made her palms bleed, his reaction was just enough to persuade her to trust him.

The cigarette was the first thing to go, kicked to the side and crushed to pavement with his boot. The bad boy demeanor was next.

Billy sits on the sidewalk in front of Heather like they’ve known each other forever, a comforting presence. Slowly, carefully, he takes her balled up fists into his hands to hold them still, interrupting a rhythmic attack on her own body she barely even noticed. At first, it feels constraining, but she relaxes into the harmless touch and allows herself to calm slightly.

Billy is so soft when he speaks to her, like they’re so familiar already, and maybe they are since he’s seen her like this. Though he might not realize this emotional overcharge for what it is. A symptom. A flaw.

“Don't cry. You know how hard it is to act tough around a pretty girl bawling her eyes out?”

Heather can’t respond. She’s hearing what he’s saying but it’s not registering fully. To establish communication, she looks at him, making strong eye contact, and tries not to think about the mascara probably smeared all over her face.

Billy seems to get it. He holds the steady connection, the first to be unintimidated by it. Heather thought that would be the part where he cracked and couldn’t deal with her, but it’s she who sobs a little harder as that shock only adds to the flurry of big feelings.

He reacts immediately to the crying, more pressing than before, obviously worried for her, “Hey, hey. You gotta cheer up there, Heather. You know, before you get back out there.”

And then a slow smile spreads across his worry-taught features. Heather doesn’t get it until Billy says, “Cheer up? Get it? And you’re a cheerleader..”

Heather hiccups through her tears, there are words in her head she wants to say but nothing comes out. She’s at the will of her emotions right now, and she has to ride it out. Deep down, Billy is helping though.

He must see that too, because he keeps talking.

“Aw, come on. No laugh?” He prompts, but she still does nothing. She can’t, and he must be okay with that, because he doesn’t stop trying to get her to laugh, “No, I get it. That was a pretty shitty joke. I can do better, wait.”

Billy sits back and thinks for a moment, calming blue eyes lighting up with something akin to excitement when he gets an idea. That’s the most comforting thing to Heather, to think someone could be so invested in making her feel better, when nobody else has ever gotten to know her like this.

“Here goes; I can tell you’re pretty upset. You’re acting kinda jumpy… ‘Cause cheerleaders do tricks.” Billy tries, and Heather finally smiles for real.

At first she doesn’t even feel it in her own expression, her face a little numb from trying so hard. The pull of her lips is weak and it wobbles a little, but she does smile, flattered and happy and a little bit crushing, just for Billy, and she gets to watch the way he smiles back, brighter than the streetlight above them.

“Oh- Oh! I got a smile! Smiles are good.”

Quieter, like he hadn’t quite meant for her to hear this part, Billy says, “Especially yours.”

Heather could float, blushing like the rest of the girls on the squad when they’d first seen Billy, finally waking up to his charm when it’s only for her. Until she’s weighed down again by reality.

Janet could tell something was wrong when Heather wasn’t back by her side at five ‘til, as they agreed, or as she imposed on her daughter. She comes storming outside to berate her for being a ditz and forgetting again, only to see her daughter in the demonic clutches of that good for nothing Hargrove boy.

Or, better phrased, Billy being the only half decent person in Heather's life.

If there was an award for the most dramatic pearl clutching…

Janet’s scream echoed off of the brick foundation of the school louder than the metal door had slammed open, “Heather Ernestine! Get away from that boy!”

She didn’t have to though, because Janet got between them, tearing their hands apart and scratching them both with sharp nails in the process.

Heather doesn’t remember what happened next. Just that there was arguing she couldn’t block out with her hands over her ears, two voices she assumes in memory were her mother and Billy going back and forth. That made everything so much worse and Heather couldn’t breathe anymore from how hard she was crying, her meltdown started all over again.

Billy would tell her much later on that he would’ve stayed and fought for her if it hadn’t been making her so upset. He thought she didn’t like him, that bitchy mask coming back to bite her in a moment of comfort. But really, her heart softened the moment he tried to comfort her, rather than caring about his reputation. He wasn't like she was supposed to be.

Heather hadn’t even finished the game. She’s at some point taken out to the car and locked in to keep rocking and pulling her hair and doing anything she can to express all the terrible feelings instilled in her tonight while Janet tries to save face for her daughter's absence inside. Heather learns the next time she’s allowed to cheer that the excuse Janet came up with was a lie about a wardrobe malfunction that makes her sound unbelievably shallow.

It’s once they get home that all hell breaks loose though. Heather gets an hour long lecture about boys “like that” and ruining her innocence and what not. After her meltdown turned panic attack back at the school, she can barely listen to it, and she doesn’t care to either. She’s heard this all before. Her parents are taking turns berating her and she’s so emotionally spent she can’t even react.

Be a good girl, Heather. Follow all the rules, Heather. Listen to your mother, Heather.

And normally, she does follow all of her parents' rules to a T. No boys in her room ever, and her door left open at all times, just in case. Even her uniform skirts go below her knees and the neckline of her blouses above her collar bones. She has a curfew of 9:30 that she meets every night unless there’s a game, and she never, ever does anything unladylike, the definition of which is subject to her parents interpretation, and theirs only.

That’s how it has to be, when she can’t move out on her own until she turns eighteen at least, mostly because she can’t get a job while Mr. Tom “respect your place in society” Holloway still has authority over her.

But that night, Billy gave her a taste of what it was like to have someone care about you in that way. Chrissy is her best friend, but she doesn’t know how to help. She’s the friend to go to for a girls night or for hugs, not to deal with the ugly side of her disability. Billy is so different to his core in the way he treats her, she can’t help but shift from having a soft spot just for him, to being madly in love with the thought of him over the next week.

Like, burying her blushing face in her pillows and kicking her feet when she thinks about him in love.

She never expected for that to be a mutual feeling, as a matter of fact, she thought Billy would actually think he was too good for her, to be held back by a strange bitch of a girlfriend. The fluttery feelings in her chest that have her humming Dion and the Belmonts don’t go away just because she’s scared of acting on them.

Or talking to Billy at all.

Or even looking at him after he saw her in her most vulnerable state, so unlike the haughty aggression she carries herself with usually.

It’s not even the meltdown that has her feeling so self conscious. Those are unavoidable, he was bound to see that eventually. It’s her mother. That night is still blocked out in her mind but she knows Janet pushed the limits. Pushed too far and could’ve hurt Billy with the same vile words she spews at Heather. For some reason, that’s the worst thing she can imagine. The worst thing for her chances with the hottest boy she didn’t even think she liked a week ago at least.

It takes her another week and a remark from Chrissy to catch on to the fact that she’s got it wrong.

Chrissy had come up beside her at school and gently touched her arm, nodding over her shoulder at the gruff blond behind them, “He’s looking at you again, Het. Billy Hargrove doesn’t just look at anyone like that.”

Heather only rolls her eyes. Chrissy is a sweetheart, but she’s clueless about men. Chrissy’s boyfriend isn’t exactly the most charming, or the kindest, or anything other than obsessed with himself. She prefers to get advice on self-expression from her.

But Chrissy is adamant, whispering and looking more strongly back at Billy, very obviously talking about him at this point, “I’m serious! Look at him, he’s staring. Like a lost puppy.”

Heather closes her locker, giving Chrissy a sharp look that says no, absolutely not.

Chrissy’s undeterred.

“Go talk to him, Hetty!” She gives her a little shove forward as motivation, nothing Heather couldn’t have resisted if she wanted to. But she doesn’t. She wants to feel the same way with Billy that she had before things got awkward. Maybe this once, she will take her best friend's advice, and slowly, but confidently as she can manage, cross to the other side of the hall where Billy, now flushed that he’d been caught looking.

She’s lucky she did too, because once she walked over, he never left her side. All he needed was Heather to take the lead and show him it was okay. A smile was all she needed to do just that, the both of them remembering that night and the way Billy tried so hard to make her happy.

And Billy, now that he can, he’ll do anything to make her happy.

Kisses all over her face, borrowed sweatshirts, late night phone calls where she’s free to laugh and him into the line because nobody’s awake to hear them.

He braids her hair before she has to go home so it curls overnight and he paints her nails soft pink and he does everything she could do herself, but he does it for her to make her feel like a princess. When they get to be together anyways.

That’s what she likes most, is just being with him. She doesn’t need him scurrying around her trying to impress her, though it makes her blush and smile. She just likes having him there. A warm presence to ground her and keep her calm.

She’s been doing better since she started dating Billy, having fewer and fewer meltdowns every day, because she has an outlet now. A shoulder to scream into and a firm hand on her back to remind her that she’s okay.

A few months into dating Billy, she’s sure he’d have left by now, but he doesn’t. With every smile he gets out of her, he falls more in love.

If there’s one thing he is, its not what they say about him. It’s strong, it’s tender, it’s consistent.

The sad part is though, he’s like that because he’s just as stuck in life as she is.

Unlike Heather though, Billy has a slight chance to work to make things better. His father is controlling in the opposite way, expecting him to support himself and be responsible for everything just because he’s legally an adult now.

He finally got picked up for a summer job at the community pool. Just the sort of immodest cesspool of peasants Heather would never be allowed near if her parents knew, not without a seamless excuse and a turtleneck sweater anyhow.

But they make it work, somehow. Mostly in that Heather, for all her rule-following, goody two shoes life, has gotten very good at lying to her parents. It used to be little white lies, about her homework not being done before bed or about stealing a snack after she was told she couldn’t have dinner as a punishment for a meltdown.

Now it’s telling them she’s going over to Chrissy’s while she was on the opposite side of town, sneaking down to the pool to see Billy.

Heather doesn’t even own a swimsuit that isn’t a few sizes too small, and she certainly doesn’t have any money to pay the admission to the pool every single time, at least not without getting caught by the ones handing out that allowance, but she tries her damndest whenever she can break away to spend time with him, since Billy's house isn’t really an option either.

They need somewhere to go, and she’s not going to complain about getting to watch Billy up on his lifeguard tower, acting all cool and mean just for him to switch into boyfriend mode the second he notices her.

Every day she comes, she waves at him from the other side of the fence, and he’s already halfway down from the chair to greet her back. Sun warmed and strong arms will wrap around her, just for her, in front of everybody.

He likes to show her off, to all the people who don’t like it when he’s happy if it isn’t with them. Heather gets a little shy then, when he’s cupping her cheeks and kissing her face over and over, but she knows why he does it.

Being with her is the first thing Billy’s ever gotten to choose, and it’s the same for her. Like they were meant to be happy together.

On the off day though, Heather will make her way down to the pool, and Billy will look at her like he doesn’t see her. Like all that enthusiasm that charmed her into genuinely trusting him and his promises was just suddenly gone.

It took Heather a few times to realize that wasn’t anything personal, that she wasn’t about to get dumped as soon as she got past the turnstiles into the pool again. Instead, she expected something usually worse. That there would be a bruise under those sunglasses or a brace under the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt.

Neil Hargrove had been on his best behavior the one and only time they met, and that still included insulting her character in more ways than one. She knew what was hurting Billy, if not just from the way he’d cower from his fathers voice if it were raised at him, but for the same reason bare his teeth if it were directed at Heather.

She didn’t like that, knowing that because of his own father, Billy was trained to value her more than himself, but she supposes, even if not through physical violence, she was the same way. Her parents and her society taught her to serve the man she loved.

That’s why they don’t mind that she doesn’t talk; a quiet woman is a subservient woman, and a subservient woman makes a damn good wife. Even for broken boys who don’t want that either.

At first he denies her help when he’s like this, either out of rejection of this mold she’s been forced into, or because he doesn’t want to admit he needs help, she isn’t sure. But what Heather does know is that she’s resilient, or else they wouldn’t even be together, and she cares about Billy more than anything.

He might be the one that’s head over heels, but she's his cheerleader. She wants to support him back.

So on those bad days, she likes to show him his affections mirrored back at him. Uncaring about who’s looking, because she’s dealt with being stared at her whole life, she climbs up in the too big chair next to him and squeezes in the tiny space, halfway in his lap and pressed into his side.

It always works to bring a smile to his face, as he drapes an arm across her shoulders to accommodate for the tight space and give them a little more room, “What are you doin’, Hetty?”

Heather kisses his freckled nose as a response, and he nuzzles her back. They’re that kind of couple now.

They’re also getting reckless. They do this more often than they should. Someone could tell Tom and shit would hit the fan. And the papers. Then Neil would know Billy was still dating the girl that “ain’t hooked up right.” Everything would could crashing down.

At there’s barely anyone here today. Mid June has brought miserable weather, and thanks to the overcast that perfectly reflects how Billy is feeling, they don’t have to worry about much. There’s other guards on duty to deal with the few unenergetic kids lazing in the pool.

So Heather kisses Billy. Returning all of the love he gives her on the regular, her turn to cheer him up. He cups her face and lets her lead the kiss, and then another, and then another, until he’s wearing most of her chapstick.

Billy sighs, once they break apart for good, halfway between dreamy and frustrated. This was one of the really bad days. Heather holds him tighter and listens to what he needs to say, hearing his words echo in his chest because of how close she is.

Billy’s voice is always low and even, sometimes Heather finds herself humming in the same pitch when he talks. They’re part of each other now. And good thing, because, something that’s been building up for a while, Billy finally proposes, “Been thinking lots about what we were saying before. ‘Bout running away. Getting married. Sounds pretty damn tempting right about now.”

Heather has never actually spoken out loud to Billy. They just don’t communicate like that. She’s non-verbal whenever it’s safe, and with him she’s always safe. He understands all of her mannerisms and her way of doing things, and if he doesn’t, he’s so in love with her he’ll try to.

But this moment, Billy’s told her about it since day one, that he wants to start a better life somewhere else, where they can be together away from judgemental mothers and abusive parents. Another classic teenage fantasy for the star crossed high school lovers.

But by no means are they the product of the molds they were put into. It took each other for that to be true, but this is another barrier they’re going to break. This isn’t another hopeless dream to end in heartbreak. It can’t be.

Heather needs him to know with one hundred percent certainty how much she wants that too, “I’m ready.”

Billy looks right into her eyes, the way she prefers to communicate, when her words won’t come. He looks surprised now that they did, but those wide are wrinkled with how wide and bright he smiles, “Are you sure? ‘Cause that’s all I need to hear.”

Heather only nods, and that’s all it takes.

Her mother said he was nothing but trouble, but Heather looks at him now, the promises he’s given her and the love, the life he showed her and the one he’s going to give them both, and she knows they were wrong about him. For now, Billy holds her a little tighter and surprises her with more smiley kisses, until they can get their things together and leave it all behind. That’s the only proof she needs.

[sl-walker]

All right, since I’m in the middle of a flare and have to work manual labor for the next four days despite it, I figured I would make myself -- and hopefully other people -- laugh by talking about one of my favorite OG Captain Marvel stories. Namely, from Whiz #50, with a cover date of January, 1944, meaning it was probably produced sometime in late 1943.

I want to share it because why not, this is some absurdly charming stuff.

I’ll get more into why it’s one of my favorites as we go, in the form of running commentary. So, full story (with said commentary) under the cut. If you wanna just read the story without my commentary, stick to the pictures. XD

First, let me say that the cover and splash page definitely live up to the story, though the cover’s a bit more sensationalized. But the premise is pretty damn simple: Our intrepid hero and his newsboy alter ego are on vacation. Cap decides to go swimming. It goes hilariously wrong and thus ensues a bit of a madcap adventure, no puns intended.

Second, the fact that Cap and Billy are depicted as essentially different entities makes what Billy does next the ultimate trolling:

Gee, airing out the stolen laundry on the radio? Really? I’ll leave it up to you, gentle reader, whether Billy actually was trolling his own alter-ego for ratings or whether he was just innocently sharing the story while his other-self winced quietly in whatever ether-space he exists in when not front-and-center.

Either way, I love it.

Continuing on...

I get a kick out of the fact that Billy’s monologue is that he’s no dare-devil. One, because that’s so obviously not true in any way -- (that kid is awesomely, sometimes recklessly brave on the regular even without Cap) -- but two, because the bridge is actually named Dare-Devil Bridge. We aren’t given any reason why this dangerous potential death-trap is there, hanging without so much as a gate or a warning sign or anything, because we don’t need one. It’s there specifically for what happens next.

Which, of course, is Billy calling in Captain Marvel, who does some light complaining about the situation Billy left him in. There’s no bite to it, which I find adorable -- Cap actually does get frustrated once or twice in other issues with Billy calling on him for mundane stuff, though he’s never mean about it -- but there is a bit of the sense of being put-upon there that’s just-- I dunno, cute. It’s something I miss a lot in the various post-crisis takes on the character: That duality, that difference in personality, and the way each of them responds to different situations. Often, they’re on the same page, but notably, sometimes, they aren’t.

Someday, I promise, I need to sit down and write how I think that works between those two without being a truly frightening mental illness manifested, what with them being the same person but not the same person. Because I have so many ideas, and I’ve only had since the early-2000s to percolate them. LOL! But until then, just enjoy this.

Here is another reason why I love the Golden Age Captain Marvel books and why I love this specific story: This is an absolutely normal, mundane thing to do. It’s the human thing to do. These aren’t the actions of some super-serious superdude. These are the actions of a pretty shockingly normal guy doing something mundane. And a whole story is built around that normalcy.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s the reader already knowing that he’s getting himself into a situation that he absolutely could have avoided, but also completely understanding how it happened anyway. It’s pretty brilliant writing: I say this as a pretty damned good writer myself.

So much of the reason why, I think, Cap was so endearing as a hero is that humanity. He’s got pretty much god-tier power in the Golden Age, once his powerset is established. He’s utterly invulnerable to all physical harm while powered up. But-- he’s human. He knows he’s human. He acts like it, and decides, “You know what? I’m going skinny-dipping.”

He and Billy are both characters it’s so easy to empathize with.

Also, a reminder that the art under Chief Artist C.C. Beck is really, really good. (He had a whole stable of artists to help produce this stuff!) Ignoring registration issues on the printing press, the actual line art is amazingly good; proportion and perspective and consistency.

But anyway--Cap does get to enjoy his swim. But, then, oh no.

I love the idea of a world where the prime hero -- and he definitely is in that world -- can take off his suit and go swimming, and where someone else is bold enough to steal the damn suit off of him. The first time I read this, I started laughing here. Not at him, but at the situation he’s found himself in. At the idea that some random passer-by saw Captain Marvel’s costume and went yoink!

Another thing I love about this particular story is how much Cap and Billy have to work together, just by necessity. Like-- it’s just really good. But anyway, thank everything Billy Batson is on the ball, coming to the rescue.

Sheer bad luck via the weather keeps this story rolling along in hilarious misdirections. Realistically, that uniform probably wouldn’t be all buttoned together (we see Cap take off pieces of it aside the pants in other issues, including socks!), but who cares? The point of the story is that giant bear rug on the floor’s gonna get put to use.

Man, when have you ever seen Superman creeping naked through some stranger’s house wearing nothing but a random polar bear because he went skinny dipping? No wonder these comics sold so well. This next panel is when I start wheezing, though, and pretty much keep wheezing.

“A lady, too! I’ve got to get away from here!”

I’m dying at this point. That’s such a characteristic response, and yet, I think that’s why it’s funny.

Anyway, because this is an excellent story (I mean this without an ounce of irony, too), our dynamic duo stumbles across a plot in play to rob the hotel they’re staying at.

Here’s a big part of why this is such a good tale: Everything fits. Even when it isn’t explained, like Dare-Devil Bridge, it still fits. Why is the tree down? Because there was just a thunder storm, the same one that blew Cap’s suit into the room with the gangsters.

I don’t know if this is Otto Binder’s story, but I wouldn’t be surprised in the least. It’s a complete story told in relatively few pages that accomplishes everything it’s meant to.

Anyway, using foliage as cover, Cap gets to be heroic----then Billy gets to get back to the business of trying to stop the robbery of the hotel and get his heroic alter-ego dressed again.  Which leads to a rather adorable and funny scene of Billy not only trying to describe what Captain Marvel wears, but what size it would need to be tailored in.

(Cap is supposedly a 44 for a suit coat, we find in some earlier appearance, which would refer to his chest size.  So, an XL for shirts and suit-coats.  He’s a big guy, but he’s actually not a hulking huge guy.  But more on that later.)

I love the fact Billy tries to like-- use himself as a model.  Maybe in another ten years, kiddo.  Billy’s actually pretty buff for like a 12-14 year old, he’s not a scrawny kid at this point, but yeah, no.  LOL!

Another thing I also really, really love about this style, though, is that they draw Captain Marvel as being strong, as having a powerful build-- but not as a dehydrated body-builder with deep cuts. He’s got human proportions, regardless of his strength; he’s got a human build, not a superhuman one.

C.C. Beck had a lot of things to say about superheroes who were just muscles on top of muscles, all clearly defined, and he didn’t like it.  As someone who first got into comics in the early 90s with Jim Lee’s X-Men--

I do get Beck’s point.  I not only get it, but I really highly approve of it.  He maintained to the end that he drew (and oversaw) the Marvel family to look like high school and college athletes, and I can see that.  I think the one person who’s gotten it right in the modern era is Evan “Doc” Shaner, who did Convergence: Shazam!  He not only nailed that strong-but-not-hulking build for Cap, but also how young he looked.  College-age, in fact.

But anyway, enough digression into art and why I like this better than most modern takes on the character.  Also, that’s just a cute set of panels.

I also like that there wasn’t an easy fix there.  Cap’s still in his not-birthday suit, and Billy’s still stuck running around trying to solve the issues at hand.  Next comes some other really good panels:

-snorts-  He’s locked in.  Yeah, that’ll hold him.

Anyway, what I really liked here was again that tandem working; Billy can’t punch through a wall, but Cap can.  Cap can’t crawl out while he’s au natural -- well, he could, but he’d probably rather die first -- but Billy’s got no such issue.  It’s just fun when you get to see them doing something like that.  You have to really think for a minute about the trust each of them must have in their alter-ego.

ANYWAY, we get the rare treat then--

--of Captain Marvel not only yoinking a dude into a dark room, but then stealing his clothes.  Except, not his underwear.  Because that’s nasty.  LOL!

I love that in this series, you do actually get to see him wear other stuff.  Go incognito.  Get his red suit messed up enough to take it to a dry cleaner’s, wherein he ends up dressed like a musketeer after.  Jerry Ordway’s series is, I think, the only other time we see Cap not wearing his famous suit, but it happened enough in the Golden Age that it wasn’t a shock.

Like, I hate to be the one to say this, but I do think DC drops the ball often on just how much you can do with Captain Marvel (or Shazam, depending on timeline, but that’s the wizard’s name to me so mostly I’ll stick with the original name) if you unbend enough to.  It’s not just the costume change, or the duality of him and Billy being the same but not, but also his inherent, essential humanity.

But I am digressing again, sorry. XD  I just feel strongly enough about these versions of these characters to spend hours writing this.

Anyway, only a single panel later:

And that’s that!  Billy Batson has just outed his own alter-ego’s most embarrassing moment to whomever’s listening to WHIZ radio -- thank everything podcasts and the internet weren’t available then, ha! -- and we get to see a recounting of a very fun story.

Like I said earlier, I love this one for its essential humanity.  The hero got himself into this mess, he and Billy got him out of this mess, and stopping the criminals was actually just kind of a lucky stroke thrown in there.  But even though Cap got himself into this, the story never treats him like he’s stupid.  It never treats him like he’s some kind of idiot.  You’re laughing, but-- not in a mean way.

I love how human it is.  How complete it is.  How genuinely funny it is.  It’s a thousand times more funny when you genuinely love and respect Captain Marvel and Billy Batson, too.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this dissertation on a skinny-dipping hero.  LOL!  I enjoyed sharing it with you.

[derekfoxwit]

Doctor Dorpden’s Critical Tips of Prestige

Note: This post was made with satirical intentions in mind. I’m only emphasizing because I’ve had a couple of comments on previous joke posts I’ve did take it seriously. With that said, here we go.

Tip 1: For starters, remember that when looking at the work, if the Mystic Knee twitches fast enough to punch a hole in a wall, this suggests that the work should be near the lowest of the low. No further development of opinion is needed.

Tip 2: For an equal degree of sophistication, give the warm comfort of nostalgia at least 5 times more chances than the new thing that MAY seem actually poggers.

Tip 3: If you have the anecdote of encountering shitty fans, then use them as a scapegoat for the show they flaunt over being shitty. Clearly, they’re always making the show the way it is.

Tip 4: If you haven’t heard much about a newer film or show you’re yet to watch, there’s an 85% chance that film or show is actually not worth your time. The Father (2020) isn’t as widespread as Joker (2019) for a reason.

Tip 5: At this point, just go for the Asian Artist Dick. I’m actually in the mood to see merit in that because I want to look edgy against cute doodles. Stop attacking Uzaki-Chan, you cowards!

Tip 6: Avoid the electronic tunes. They’ll make you smell like a bum, for there’s no structural in a music album that’s nothing but wubs.

Tip 7: If you see a Tweet that looks dumb, use it as a means of generalizing all the fans of a work as sharing that same opinion.

Tip 8: If the cartoon I’m given doesn’t provide me with mature ideas such as slicing an Arbok in half or fake boobs, then the cartoon might as well be on the same level as Teletubbies.

Tip 9: You know the music is (c)rap when it brings up drugs, regardless of lyrical context.

Tip 10:  Raw mood is the indicator of quality cartooning. If you’re quick to assume the worst in the newest HBO Max original cartoon, then you got thyself a stinker. Same thing if you were super bummed out when watching a new thing, regardless of anecdotal context.

Tip 11:  When you’re not given continuous throwbacks, ensure you’re as reductive and over-generalizing about the works shown as possible.

Tip 12:  If your hazy and imperfect as hell recollection of a children’s film, whether it’s Wall-E or Lilo & Stitch, would describe said film as “too sugary” or “key-waving schlock”, then that HAS to be the case. No meat on that bone whatsoever.

Tip 13: Simpler, more graphic style that isn’t as realistic as old-school Disney or Anime? You got yourself a lazy style with zero passion put into it.

UPA? Who’s THAT?!

Tip 14: Don’t trust anyone saying that western children’s cartoons had any form of artistic development after 2008 (with, like, TWO exceptions). If it did, why didn’t we go from stealing organs in a 2001 cartoon to showing opened stomachs in a 2021 cartoon?

Tip 15: Big booba is always important to the strong female character’s quality.

Tip 16:  Only MY ships count, for they provide me with a feeling of intelligence.

Tip 17: “PG-13″ and “R” rating just simply mean you’re not caring for expressing themes in a sophisticated manner. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 18:  In this age of smelly radicals, “Death of the Author” is more important than ever. Without it, this’ll imply that a classic like The Matrix was secretly toxic, due to what the Wachowskis have to say about it being an “allegory of trans people.”

Tip 19: Turn the fandoms you hate into your torture porn. Ask in Tweets to Retweet one sentence that’d “trigger” them. Go out of your way to paint all of them as blind consoomers. That’ll show them, and it’ll show how much more intelligent you are compared to those clowns.

Tip 20: Whatever the Mystic Knee dictates upon the first viewing of a work is what shall indicate the full structural extent of the film.

Tip 21: The mindset of a 2000s edgelord is one that actually understands the artistry of the medium of animation. Listen to that crazy but ingenious man.

Tip 22: Because sheer ambition makes me feel manly, the high pedestal you bestow upon a cartoon work should be based mostly on the mere mention or mere suggestion of serious topics. This means that pure comedy is smelly.

Tip 23: Is the new work tackling subjects that you’ve loved a childhood work of yours for covering? Just assume it’s super bare-bones in that case compared to the older case, for there’s nothing the older work can do to truly prove itself otherwise. Seriously, Letterboxd. Stop giving any 2010s cartoon anything above a 4/5

Tip 24: If the Mystic Knee is suggesting that the work is crummy, then consider any explanation off the top of your head for why the work in question is crummy.

Tip 25: Sexual and gender identity is inherently political, so don’t focus on them in the story. It’s no wonder why Full Metal Alchemist has caught on more than the She-Ra reboot.

Tip 26: Since I got bothered by a random butt monkey type character in a crummy cartoon, I’m now obligated to assume that having a butt monkey will only harm the writing integrity of the cartoon.

Seriously, Mr. Enter....what?!

Tip 27: We’re at a point where pure comedy for a kids’ cartoon is doing nothing but dumbing down the children. Like seriously...... I doubt Billy and Mandy would ever use farts as a punchline, unlike these newer kids comedies.

Tip 28: The difference between the innuendo in kids’ cartoons I grew up on and the ones Zootopia made is the sense of prestige they give me. Just take notes from the former instead.

Tip 29: Wanna make a work of artistic merit? Just take notes from the stuff I whore out to. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 30: Always remember this golden rule: If the newer work, or a work you’ve recently experienced the first time, was truly great, why isn’t it providing the exact emotions from your younger, more impressionable years?

Tip 31: If the Mystic Knee aims to break the bones of a character doing certain things (.i.e. having body count of thousands; lashing out to character; etc.), that means the character is bad and deserves no redemption.

Tip 32: If you want me to believe there’s any intrigue or depth in your antagonist, give them redemption, for I am in need of that sorta thing being spelled out. Looking at you, Syndrome. Should’ve taken notes from Tai Lung.

Tip 33: In a case where you’re going “X > Y” (.i.e. manga compared to western comics), ALWAYS CHERRY PICK! Use the recent controversies of the “Y” item while pretending that the “X” item has never had anything of the sort.

Tip 34: BEFORE you bring up those comments that shat on the original Teen Titans cartoon back when it was new, whether for making Starfire “more PC” or whatever.......the DIFFERENCE between them and me is that THEY were just bad faith fools that couldn’t see true majesty out of blind rage. I, however, am truly certain that calling any western TV cartoon from 2014-onward a work that transcends its generation suggests a destruction of the medium.

Tip 35: Based on fandom growth, it shows that any newer show isn’t being watched much by kids, but rather loser adults that act like children. Therefore, there’s more prestige in what I grew with.

Tip 36: The focus on children is bad at this point since the children of today have attention spans that flies would have.

Tip 37: A select few screenshots (or even one) of either a less elaborate attacking animation, less realistic game graphics, or a less on-model image in a cartoon indicates EVERYTHING about the work’s quality.

Tip 38: Consuming or writing media where characters go through constant suffering is little more than gaining pleasure out of it. YOU SICKOS!

Looking at you, Lily Orchard!

Tip 39: Whether it’s a sexual awakening story or just simply a romance, focus on a character being lesbian, trans, bi, etc., then it shouldn’t be in a kids’ work. It’s too spicy for them by default. Kids don’t want romance anyway.

Tip 40: The very idea of a western cartoon with no full-blown antagonist (i.e. Inside Out) is a destruction of animated artistry. Sorry, but it’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 41: Unless it’s my fluffy pillow, such as Disney’s Robin Hood, it should be obligated to assume the inserting of anthros is only there to pleasure the furries. Looking at YOU, Zootopia!

Tip 42: With how rough and rash The Beast was, it shows that he was more of an abusive lover. Therefore, I refuse to believe that Beauty and the Beast has any of the meticulous moral writing that most of Disney’s other 90s films has.

Tip 43: When you suggest one work should’ve “taken notes” from another work in order to do better, BE VAGUE! Those who agree will be shown to be geniuses.

Tip 44: Remember how morally grey Invader Zim was? That really goes to show how little the Western Animation scene has been trying since that show. Really should just be taking notes from that series (and of course anime).

Tip 45: Even if I have a radar that clearly indicates such, hiding the item I look for inside an enemy is always bad, for I refuse to believe it would be inside the enemy.

Goddamn it, Arin!

Tip 46: People struggle understanding your gender identity or pronouns? All there is to see in that is a giant cloud of egotism that reads “My problems” zapping another smaller cloud that reads “other people’s problems”. Seriously, kids are starving, so WHAT if you identity confused someone. Grow a spine!

Tip 47: Stop pretending that adaptations should colorize how a story or comic series should be defined. No way in FUCK can a cartoon or film incarnation become the definitive portrayal of my precious superhero idol.

Tip 48: Enough with your precious “limited animation” techniques, YOU WESTERN HACKS! All you’re doing is admitting to sheer laziness and lacking artistic integrity. Now if you excuse me, I’ll be watching more anime, since that gives me a sense of prestige.

Tip 49: If getting five times more detail than the 2D animated visuals have requires someone getting hurt, so be it. No pain, no gain after all.

Tip 50: Yes, I genuinely struggle to believe there’s this majestic level of layered material without having the most immediate yet still vague re-assurance practically yelling in my face. But that’s STILL the work’s fault, not mine.

Tip 51: Every Klasky-Csupo cartoon has more artistic integrity than any of them cartoons with gay lovers such as Kipo or the Netflix She-Ra show.

Tip 52:  If Sergio Pablos’ Klaus is anything to go by, we have no excuse to utilize those smelly as fuck digital animation “styles” found on Stinky Universe, Suck-Ra or Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turds.

Tip 53: Stop projecting your orientation onto works of actual talent. Seriously, how does Elton John’s I’m Still Standing expel ANY rainbow flag energy?

Tip 54: Hip hop and electronica have been the destruction of music, especially the kind that’s actually organic and not farting on the buttons of a beeping or drumming gadget.

Tip 55: The audience for cartoons has become significantly less clear over the years. We should just go back to Saturday mornings of being sold toys or shit kids actually want.

Tip 56: PSAs for kids shouldn’t be about ‘woke’ content. They should be actual problems such as doing drugs; not playing with knifes / outlets / matches; or acceptance.

Tip 57: The instant you realize a detail in a childhood work that’s better understood as an adult, you’re forced to paint that work as the most transcendent thing in the world. It’s just THAT simple until I dictate otherwise.

Tip 58: Before you lash out on ALL rich people, remember this: #Not All Rich People.

Tip 59: There’s nothing to gain out of the (c)rap scene other than becoming a spiteful, gun-wielding thug that sniffs weed for breakfast.

Tip 60: Since the Mystic Knee told me to get anal about prom episodes in several gay cartoons, this shows that writing about one’s younger experiences just makes you look pathetic.

Tip 61: Another smelly thing about Zootopia is how it was painting a police chief as stern and exclusive. #Not All Chiefs

Tip 62: Me catching a glimpse of Grave of the Fireflies as a kid and turning out fine shows that you may as well show kids more adult works without worry. No amount of psychological questions being asked will suggest otherwise.

Tip 63: There’s a reason why the Mystic Knee keeps leaning more toward the 90s and early 2000s than most decades. That knee KNOWS where there’s a sense of true refinement.

Tip 64: The BIG difference between rock and electronica? Steward Copeland actually DRUMS. All that the likes of Burial, Boards of Canada, Depeche Mode and several others did was push drum buttons.

Tip 65: One exception to the golden nostalgia is when the work in question doesn’t stuff your face with fantastical, bombastic stories. At which point, there can only be rose-colored blinds covering Nickelodeon’s Doug. Nothing of merit or personal resonance to be found.

Tip 66: Remember that the sense of nuance in the work comes down to there being everything including the kitchen sink, whether it involves multiple geographic landscapes; giving us hundreds of characters; etc. Only through the extremes will I be able to tell there is nuance.

Tip 67: Once you see a joke that has an involvement with sexual or violent content, just ignore the full picture and just reduce it to having nothing to it but “sex, violence, gimme claps.”

PKRussel has entered the chat

Tip 68: With all the SJWs messing up the art of comedy, lament the times where you could be called a comic genius, NOT a monster, for shouting out the word “STAB,” calling a gay weird, painting Middle Easterns as inherently violent, etc.

Tip 69: Guitar twang will always win out over (c)rap beats. There’s a reason your grandma is more likely to listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd than Kendrick Lamar.

Tip 70: Once the Mystic Knee notices a lack of squealing at the video game with linearity, that shows there’s more artistry in going full-blown open world.

Tip 71: Related to Tips 66 and 68, ensure your comedy gets as much information and mileage out of each individual skit as possible. EMPHASIZE if you need to. Continuously spout out your quirky phrase of “STAB” if needed.

Tip 72: Based on the onslaught of TV shows with many seasons and episodes, animated or otherwise, it shows that there’s more worth going for that than simply having a miniseries or a 26-episode anime.

Tip 73: Building off of the previous tip, you’re better off squeezing and exhausting every little detail and notable characterization rather than keeping anything simple and possibly leaving a stone unturned, especially if there’s supposed to be a story. 

Tip 74: Playing through the fan translation of Mother 3 made me realize how much some newer kids’ works just try too hard to get serious. Why even make the kids potentially think about the death of a family member?

Tip 75: The fear I had over Sid’s toys from the first Toy Story and similar anecdotal emotions are the be-all indicators of what kind of show or film is fitting for the children.

Tip 76:  Seeing this British rapper chick have a song titled “Point and Kill” just further exemplifies the fears I’ve had about rappers being some of the most harmful folks ever.

Tip 77: The problem with attempting to make a more “relatable” She-Ra is that kids aren’t looking for relatability. They want the escapism of buff fighters or something similar. This is why slice-of-life is so smelly.

Tip 78: Based on seeing the rating of “PG-13″ or “R,” I can tell that the dark humor is little more than “hur dur sex and guns.” Given the “TV-Y7 FV” rating of Invader Zim, the writers should’ve taken notes from that instead just so I can sense actual prestige.

Tip 79: The original He-Man has more visual intrigue in its animation than any of those smelly glorified doodles found in the “styles" of the 2010s and early 2020s.

Tip 80: It’s always the fault of the game that my first guess (that I refuse to divert from) on how I have to go through an obstacle won’t work.

Tip 81: Zootopia discussing prejudice ruins the majestic escapism I got from my precious childhood films from 1991-2004. Them kids might as well be watching the news. Now to watch some Hunchback after I finish these tips.

Tip 82: There is no such thing as an unreasonable expectation, and there’s especially no wrong way to address the lack of met expectations! For example, if you expect some early 2010s cartoon on the Disney Channel to be a Kids X-Files, yet you get moments such as some girl getting high on stick dipping candy, you got the right to paint the worst out of that show for not being “Kids’ X-Files.”

Tip 83: Related to my example for Tip 82, if you get the slightest impression of something being childish, you know you got yourself a children’s work that does little than wave keys and has basically nothing substantial for them. In this situation, those malfunctioning robots found in Wall-E are the guilty party.

Tip 84: Without the extensive dialogue that I’m used to getting, how can one say for certain there was any amount of characterization in the title character of Wall-E?

Tip 85: Ever noticed yourself gradually being less likely to expect an upcoming work or view a work you’re just consuming as “the next best thing”? That’s ALWAYS the fault of smelly “artists” (hacks really) and their refusal to give a shit.

Tip 86:  It’s obligatory for your lead to be explicitly heroic just so there is this immediate re-assurance that they’re a good one.

Tip 87: Without the comforting safety net of throwbacks, one cannot be for certain that there has been an actual evolution of a series or the art of animation and video games.

Tip 88: Don’t PSA kids on stuff they give zero fucks about. That means no gender identities or pronouns, race, etc.

Tip 89: Don’t listen to Mamoru Hosoda saying that anime women tend to be “depicted through a lens” of sexual desire. He’s just distracting from the superior prestige found in anime women.

Tip 90:  If you’re desperate to let others know that your talking points are reasonable, just repeat them over and over with little expansion on said talking points.

Tip 91: 7 or more seasons of art is better than 26 episodes of art.  EVERY TIME!

Tip 92: Always remember to continuously talk up the innuendo and mature subject matter of the childhood work as the most prestigious, transcendent thing of all time. With that in mind, there’s a high chance that your favorite childhood work will be better known than Perfect Blue (1997), and there’s likely a reason for that.

Tip 93: An art style that gives many characters relatively more realistic arm muscle details will always shine through more than any sort of art style done for “simplicity” (laziness, really).

Tip 94:  Seeing a few (like, even VERY FEW) people show more enthusiasm for Steven Universe over Invader Zim really shows the lower bar that has been expected out of the western animation scene compared to anime.

Tip 95: Electronic music makes less conventional time signatures cheap as hell. REAL music like rock makes them the exact opposite.

Tip 96: If your Mystic Knee suggests that the 90s cartoon being viewed doesn’t showcase a vague sense of refinement or artistic integrity, then every related assumption of yours is right. EVERY TIME!

Tip 97: Doing everything and the kitchen sink for one series or movie shows a better sense of refinement and prestige than any form of simplicity. THIS includes character design as well.

Tip 98: The advent of that Star Wars: Visions anime really shows just how stinky western cartoons have become.

Tip 99:  For those wondering, no, Europe isn’t being counted in my definition of “western animation”. Doing so is a complete disservice to prestige.

Tip 100: If even less than half of these tips aren’t being considered, you can kiss that prestige badge goodbye. After all, I SAID SO!

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Read into Me Chapter 5: Romeo and Juliet

Steve Harrington x Reader

CATCH UP ON THE SERIES HERE

Words: 2,955

Warnings: Swearing, slut shaming, bullying mention

Tag List: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @wolfish-willow​ @scoopsohboi​ @herre-gud-nej​ @clockworkballerina​ @maddie1504​ @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary​ @banjino-in-the-hole @buckysarge​ @wildcvltre​ @stanleyyelnatsiii​ @unusuallchildd @n3wtscaseofniffler5​ @peterparxour @alwaysstressedout @linkispink1995​ @asharpkniffe​ @a-big-ball-of-idk​ @used-avocado​ @mochminnie​ @sledgy14​ @the-creative-lie​ @yall-wildin-like-siriusly​ @ggclarissa​

After that afternoon, you spent practically every day after school with Steve, either in his bedroom or the library. It was weirdly nice. You didn’t always talk; mostly you worked in silence, Steve answering English questions or doing work for other classes and you doodling. You’d finished the sketch of Steve you’d started in his bedroom the same night you’d started it. You were actually quite proud of it; you’d managed to get the shadows on his face to make his face look hollow and strange, not beautiful like it usually appeared. And yes, you were comfortable with calling him beautiful. You found a lot of your subjects beautiful, they all fit into an easy collection of strong, attractive faces that could be found in Hawkins. Hawkins Most Beautiful: the collections of portraits labelled themselves.

Steve called you fairly often as well; usually on the days when you didn’t meet up he’d call so he’d have someone to keep him company as he worked. He seemed lonely to you. From your conversations, you learned little of his supposed friends, but you learned a fair bit about his family. Both his parents were rarely home. His father worked in the city and kept an apartment there, keeping him as far away from home as possible most of the time. His mother was home more often, but kept her hours in certain places, leaving him home alone most of the time. So it seemed, he was ignored past the age of twelve. You sympathized with that, your own parents weren’t exactly present, albeit for different reasons. He asked you a lot about Samantha, which didn’t bother you; you could talk about her far more than you could yourself.

“I can’t honestly say that I even really know her…” Steve laughed. You were sat in his bedroom one evening, the sun setting in creamy red swirls, ominous strawberry pieces in homemade ice cream. Sweet and yet worrying for reasons beyond you for the time being. You were sat at his desk, leaning back in his desk chair, turning left and right. Steve was sprawled out on his mattress, feet kicking beyond him casually, his papers spread out in front of him.

“Yeah, she doesn’t really associate with some of your friends. Tina isn’t really our biggest fan…” you replied, smiling softly. The memory of Samantha dumping a miniature carton of chocolate milk on her head in the seventh grade flashed through your mind, her shrill screech making you chuckle.

“Oh yeah? What’s up her ass?” Steve asked, turning onto his side to look at you fully. He looked incredibly posed and uncomfortable, his head placed in his palm and his ankles stacked neatly one on top of the other.

“They used to be best friends, before I showed up. Once I was on the scene, Tina decided that I was someone to bully and Samantha decided that she wanted to be my friend. They fell out because of it and Tina started bothering both of us. She stopped once we were in middle school.” You explained, pulling one of your knees to your chest.

“Tina’s a bitch…” Steve muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

“She’s got such a thing for you.” You chuckled, watching as his face coloured. You continued “Vicki too…they want you so bad.”

“How’d you know?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. His face was still pink, it was almost adorable.

“Oh my god, they spend every class with their heads so far up your ass!” you linked your fingers together and pulled them under your chin. You batted your lashes at him with wide eyes, starting into an imitation of Tina “Oh…Stevie, tell me more about your basketball game…oh Stevie you’re soooo strong!”

Steve pulled the pillow from the head of his bed, throwing it at your head. “Oh shut up!” he groaned. You caught the pillow, chucking it back at him, smacking him square in the face.

Steve was great to hang out with. But that sort of friendship didn’t seem to transition outside the privacy of his bedroom. In school, the rules of social interaction began again. Steve returned to the arms of Tommy H and Carol, whose attentions flip between him and Billy Hargrove, and Samantha kept you busy with her questions, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, squeezing you tightly into your side. And every time you passed Steve, she cracked a joke in your ear that turned you beet red.

In truth, it was clear that Samantha did not believe you when you told her that nothing was going on between the two of you. She had already decided that the pair of you were in some sort of torrid affair of Shakespearian depths. She seemed to earnestly believe that it was some secret, clandestine romance was happening behind closed doors. You didn’t really understand what she was imagining; it didn’t make sense to you. Steve was far too obviously interested in other people to be doing anything with you. You tried to point out all the girls who hung off his arm whenever she tried to embarrass you about it, but she didn’t see it.

“What you’re missing,” she said through a massive bite of cafeteria shepherd’s pie “Is that all those girls pay attention to him, but he doesn’t pay attention to them.”

“If we were having an affair, don’t you think that I would tell you about it? I tell you everything anyway.” You retorted, rolling your eyes at her.

“You didn’t tell me about Byers until I weaseled it out of you. That’s what I’m doing right now.” Samantha replied with a shrug, mushing her meal together with her plastic fork until it was a disgusting shade of brown, golden corn accenting the pile.

Talking about Jonathan Byers wasn’t fair and she knew it. In short, there was nothing to talk about. You’d had a small, teeny tiny practically nonexistent crush on the boy a year prior, but it was very clear that he didn’t like you back. Samantha had gone to Tina’s party in October, right as your crush was subsiding, and she’d told you that he was all over Nancy Wheeler. You’d had your suspicions about it, but hearing that he’d gone after someone else’s girlfriend and rejected you along the way hurt. Even though you weren’t interested, it still hurt. Samantha was still annoyed that you hadn’t told her about it until it was over, and since it was the only source of knowledge she had on your comatose love life, she brought it up all the time, much to your chagrin.

“All I do with him is sit in his room and help him study. And when I say help him study, I mean literally help him study, we do the chapter studies together and discuss the stupid book.” You said. That wasn’t the whole story; you talked a lot about life and listened to music. You were confident in saying that you were friends by now. You’d almost met his mother twice, both times in passing, and that seemed pretty important to friendships, when their family knew who you were. Still, it didn’t break into school. Steve stayed with his clique and while you tried to stray from yours, Carol or Tina would always scare you off before you spent too much time with Steve. It didn’t take much to scare you, a mere gaze could send you packing, and those two had been mastering the annoyed sneer since the fifth grade.

“Yeah, well you don’t see what I see…” Samantha muttered, turning her attention away from you and onto the loud clique at the centre of the room. Billy Hargrove was show boating, as usual, with Tina and Macy practically drooling onto their lunch trays. Vicki was trying to get Steve’s attention, her thin, spidery fingers gripping onto his wrists, speaking animatedly into his ear. Steve wasn’t facing her though; his whole body was turned away from her, and directly towards your table. Samantha noticed how he watched where you went, it’s why she thoroughly believed that something was going on beyond the surface, something even you might not realize. She knew what a person looked like when they were love struck. Often times, from the outside, it was easier to see when someone was in love with someone else before she could catch onto who actually liked her. She’d watched the women she yearned for fall in love with boring, lame men enough times to have mastered the signs of how men fall for girls. And Steve showed all the non-verbal signs. She couldn’t get a full read on you yet though.

Tommy had caught onto to Steve’s strange behaviour just as fast as Samantha had, although he wasn’t nearly as impressed. You were simply not worth the effort. Not by a long shot. You were fucking lame-never at the parties, never at dances, never at the lake on the weekends. And he knew you had money, you could afford to do all those things, you were just too much of a pussy to show your face. That was fucking pathetic! He knew his friend better than anyone else and a chick who couldn’t hang was not the girl for him. Steve liked fun girls, girls who could turn up for a last minute thing and not be weird about it. Nancy Wheeler was the farthest Steve needed to go on the preppy nerd scale, and that bitch ended up being a massive slut! Like nobody expected that shit. But Tommy knew that you didn’t have any surprises up your sleeves. Despite the fact that you never talked, he knew that you were plain about who you were. Everything was on the surface, and what he saw was not worth his friend’s time.

“Steve, buddy, I’m gonna go get another milk, walk with me.” Tommy motioned him over. Steve followed blindly, if only to get Vicki’s cold, clammy hand off him. Tommy had seen The Godfather one too many times and seemed to believe that he was some sort of small town mob boss, but Steve didn’t really mind following along with him flights of fancy. Usually they were pretty funny.

Tommy wrapped an arm around his taller friend’s shoulders, lowering his voice from the onlooker’s ears. “Listen, buddy, you gotta tell me what’s going up with that Y/N chick I mean you just keep staring at her it’s freaking weird, dude.”

“Y/N? She’s my writing partner for Lawrence’s class, she’s cool…” Steve replied, turning to catch your eye as they passed. He smiled at you, giving a short wave, which you returned with a small smile.

“She’s cool? That all?” Tommy pressed, stepping into the line and grabbing a carton of strawberry milk and the largest chocolate chip cookie in the basket. He unwrapped his arm from his shoulders, letting him go free for the first time in the conversation.

“Yeah, I mean she’s nice, what else do you want me to say?” Steve knew that was being a little defensive, but he didn’t like being questioned for his choices in friends or girls, he never questioned Tommy’s choices and he made the worst decisions most of the time. Carol was no prize and he didn’t say a word about her.

“You fucking her?” if Steve had had anything in his mouth, he would’ve spit it on the floor. Tommy didn’t even turn to look at him, paying the lunch lady in change.

“Jesus, dude, no.” Steve cried, recoiling from his friend. Tommy needed to get hit and while he didn’t have cause to do so yet, he firmly believed someone was going to do it soon.

“Hey, no need to freak out, it’s just a question.” Tommy pulled his friend back in, slapping his friend on the back. Instead of simply heading back to their lunch table, he pulled him to the side, standing next to the hot grab and go table, next to the cartons of fries.

“Now, the way I see it, you have something great going for you.” Tommy began, cracking open his milk and taking a long swig, leaving a milk film on his upper lip. “Vicki Clarke is a fucking babe and she’s begging for it! She’s all over your ass and she’s hot as hell! But you’re blowing it by spending all your time staring at some freak of nature instead. You could have a smoking hot babe at your beck and call, but you’re wasting your chances here, you see what I mean?”

“Not at all, dude.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, looking over his friend doubtfully.

“Look man, I’m just trying to set you up for success here. Because that girl,” Tommy pointed at you slyly “Is not interested. If she was, she’d be over here, acting like Vicki is. But she’s keeping herself planted at that table with that goth freakazoid.”

Steve had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny having any feelings for you, but that wouldn’t mean shit if he kept watching you. And Tommy was right, there was a girl there who wanted to listen to whatever he said, who chased him down. Vicki was there and you weren’t. So he swallowed his words and went back to his table.

“Hey, Steve…” Vicki drawled. There was red lipstick on her teeth. Steve didn’t say anything about it. It didn’t make her ugly. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, letting her rest in the crook of his neck. Vicki seemed over the moon by it and it gave him something to focus on other than catching your attention.

Samantha frowned, turning her attention back to you. “What’s Steve’s opinion on Vicki Clarke?” she asked.

“He didn’t like when I told him that she had a thing for him, why?” you retorted, flipping through the college magazine in front of you. You still hadn’t chosen anywhere to apply and applications for the major schools were due in the winter and community colleges needed their applications in for the fall semester in by the end of June at the earliest.

“Well, he doesn’t seem embarrassed now.” Samantha hooked a thumb towards the couple. You looked once, narrowing your eye to scrutinize the pair.

“Eh, that seems about right…” you murmured. You wouldn’t deny that something about it hurt. But you ignored the pain until returning home from school. As always, you called before making any moves. It was the polite thing to do, even though Steve had made the plans to meet up with you after school the night before.

The phone was picked up after three rings. Steve’s car was in the driveway, not his mother’s, so you knew who would answer. “Hello?” his voice sounded anxious and breathy, maybe even annoyed.

“Steve-o, we still studying? You wanna go grab food at Hula Burger?” Steve had introduced you to the burger place in Carmel, a little mom and pop shop with the best Cajun fries in the county, at least in your opinion.

“Oh shit…” Steve muttered “Y/N I’m sorry I-I kind of made plans, can I take a rain check on the burgers?”

“Oh…yeah, sure I guess…some other time…” you said softly. You wouldn’t try to hide the disappointment in your voice. The pain you felt in the pit of your stomach returned with abundance, not exactly sore and angry pain, but more of a black hole opening up there.

“I gotta go, I’ll see you tomorrow, ‘kay?” Steve asked. He was already running late. He was supposed to pick up Vicki in twenty minutes and he still needed to shower. He had genuinely forgotten about his plans with you and he felt like an ass for doing so. He did want to hang out with you, but a date was a good step after being decimated by Nancy. He wasn’t super into Vicki, but it was still exciting to go out with someone new.

“Sure…” you hung up after that. You stood from your bed, dropping your book bag at your feet. You were used to spending afternoons alone, that wasn’t strange to you. Just because you’d spent a few days with a boy didn’t mean that he was yours to hold back from his life. You could’ve pulled a fit and tried to make him hold true to his word, the way your mother used to act towards your father. But those memories made you sick, you didn’t like that behaviour. But you also didn’t like being cancelled on. It wasn’t a feeling you were used to, not from friends at least. Samantha never really cancelled on you, she always made sure to tell you when she was busy and not agree to plans. She’d never cancelled on you for a date, even when she was dating Keith the creep she always put your friendship on a different level than him. Of course, she wasn’t really into Keith, she came out like a week after they started dating and broke up with him after kissing Jessica Klein at a house party, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Steve had ditched you and it made your heart hurt.

You couldn’t help but watch him run out of his front door and into his car. You watched it pull out of his driveway and out onto the road. It was clear to you now, Steve was more interested in passing English than he was in being your friend. Vicki Clarke was the girl to pay attention, no matter how he acted around you.

So why pretend like he was your friend at all?

[aion-rsa]

Oscars 2021 Predictions and Analysis of Frontrunners

https://ift.tt/3s3HJE1

Perhaps the most surprising thing about the Oscars 2021 nominations is how unsurprising they were. There were course a handful of snubs, from One Night in Miami and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom being left out of the Best Picture category to LaKeith Stanfield surprising awards watchers with a Best Supporting Actor nod thanks to Judas and the Black Messiah (displacing Chadwick Boseman from Da 5 Bloods). But by and large? Things proceeded the way prognosticators pretty much expected.

With the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences picks in, we can see that David Fincher’s Mank is the technical favorite with below the line voters, pushing the Netflix deconstruction of Golden Age Hollywood to eight nominations. These include major nods for Picture, Director and Best Actor (Gary Oldman) and Best Supporting Actress (Amanda Seyfried), but also a lot of technical recognition too in Cinematography, Production Design, Costume, and Makeup and Hairstyling.

Even so, the obvious frontrunner remains Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland, a beautiful film that turns the tragedy of the Great Recession into a bittersweet celebration of American Nomad culture. The Searchlight Pictures release garnered six nominations, including Zhao in the Best Director category and another for Best Picture. Zhao’s directing nod, alongside Emerald Fennell for Promising Young Woman, additionally made history with this being the first time two women were nominated in the Best Director category in the same year.

Meanwhile fans still mourning Chadwick Boseman’s tragic loss, as well as celebrating his tour de force final performance in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, can take some small comfort in the actor being the heavily favored contender in the Best Actor category.

In the end, things proceeded more or less as how the breathless awards race media class hoped it would. All of which raises an interesting question: Will there be any actual surprises then on Oscar night? Well… below is our best, and entirely too early, guess at what will win Best Picture and the other major categories. Be sure to check back here on Oscar night to remind us how wrong we were.

Just for clarity, nominees we want to win will be italicized while the ones we think will win will be bolded. When they’re one in the same, one contender will be italicized and bolded.

Best Picture

The Father Judas and the Black Messiah Mank Minari Nomadland Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

I’m not sure I can think of a year with a more clear cut and inevitable frontrunner than Nomadland in 2021. There have been other years with dominant frontrunners—almost every year in fact—including several that go on to win, such as Green Book just two award seasons ago. However, there is almost always a counter-narrative that threatens the perceived frontrunner. Sometimes those whisper campaigns unseat the presumptive winner (see La La Land and 1917), and sometimes they don’t. But in the case of Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland there isn’t even a serious challenger.

This in part because Zhao made an extraordinary film which uncannily mixed documentarian filmmaking and its study of real-life American Nomads with narrative storytelling. It’s a trick Zhao has done several times before, including memorably with the Independent Spirit Award winner, The Rider. But here it is done with Oscar favorite in star Frances McDormand, and it draws attention to a whole culture of forgotten (white) Americans. Additionally, Nomadland is opening in a pandemic year where most of the more traditional awards contenders have vacated. The ones that haven’t are mostly being produced by Netflix, including The Trial of the Chicago 7 and Mank. The former might be a real contender for Best Picture under different circumstances, but the Academy is notoriously recalcitrant toward awarding Best Picture to Netflix originals and other streaming efforts. Just ask Roma for more.

Nomadland braved a small theatrical debut ahead of its premiere on Hulu, supporting the theatrical experience during COVID, while Chicago 7 was snubbed a Best Director nomination, suggesting there is some skepticism toward the film among a large wing of Academy voters. Mank, meanwhile, is an acquired taste that appeals to my personal sensibility. But it’s quite cold and less a love letter to the movie industry than a loving middle finger. That fact will probably hurt it in a number of categories, including Best Original Screenplay where it was snubbed today.

Best Director

Thomas Vinterberg, Another Round David Fincher, Mank Lee Isaac Chung, Minari Chloé Zhao, Nomadland Emerald Fennell, Promising Young Woman

While I would vote another way for Best Picture, I am totally onboard with seeing Zhao pick up the Best Director plaudit. Hers is an entirely unique cinematic voice that has successfully blurred the lines of how narrative filmmaking can be conveyed, and she’s done so while cultivating a great sense of empathy in Nomadland. The picture that finds beauty and resilience in a story that could’ve been a tragedy, memorializing the Americans left behind by the Great Recession.

Her groundbreaking techniques make her stand out in her field. Plus, Academy will be acutely self-conscious this year about the disappointing fact that only one other woman, Kathryn Bigelow, has won a Best Director Oscar. So be prepared for Zhao to make that two.

Best Actress

Viola Davis, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Andra Day, The United States vs. Billie Holiday Vanessa Kirby, Pieces of a Woman Frances McDormand, Nomadland Carey Mulligan, Promising Young Woman

Carey Mulligan is phenomenal in Emerald Fennell’s Promising Young Woman. Acerbic but devastating, guarded but vulnerable, and equal parts righteous and occasionally terrifying, she provides a multifaceted turn unlike anything else we’ve seen from the now twice-nominated actor. Previously she was recognized for her ingénue breakout in An Education, but now as an adult thespian, she’s a true revelation. That narrative will appeal to Academy voters, especially as they tend to favor younger actresses in the lead category. Frances McDormand is a famous exception to that rule, but McDormand has two Oscars already, and one is for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri from only three years ago. Also Mulligan is much more keen on playing the awards season campaign game.

Admittedly, Andra Day won for Best Actress in a Drama at the Golden Globes … but the Globes are always going to be their own thing (ask Jodie Foster for more). And while Day is wonderful in The United States vs. Billie Holiday, that movie’s more meager quality is going to be an albatross.

Best Actor

Riz Ahmed, Sound of Metal Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Anthony Hopkins, The Father Gary Oldman, Mank Steven Yeun, Minari

In his final performance, Chadwick Boseman is heartbreaking and utterly riveting. All strained bravado and barely masked desperation, his Levee is cool to a tragic fault in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. The film he occupies, based on the August Wilson play of the same name, enjoys its contrasts about Black artists navigating white dominated industries. But while Viola Davis’ charismatic turn is above the title, the B-side to her story as embodied by Levee is where the film’s ghosts wait. And they stayed with me long after the Netflix film ended.

Read more

Movies

How Chadwick Boseman Created His Final Performance in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

By Don Kaye

Movies

Promising Young Woman: Director Emerald Fennell Breaks Down the Ending

By Rosie Fletcher

Boseman deserves a posthumous Oscar for his turn—which would make him only the third performer to win one after Peter Finch for Network and Heath Ledger for The Dark Knight—and he’ll almost certainly get it on Oscar night.

Best Supporting Actress

Maria Bakalova, Borat Glenn Close, Hillbilly Eleg Olivia Colman, The Father Amanda Seyfried, Mank Youn, Yuh-jung, Minari

Conventional wisdom says Olivia Colman will win Best Supporting Actress for The Father. The Academy certainly likes her, having awarded her Best Actress two years ago for The Favourite, and the Academy also has a history of being more lenient on relative back-to-back Oscars in the Supporting category, unlike the historical precedents in the leading actor categories. However, I’m taken by the relative lack of consensus-building around Colman to date. Granted the Golden Globes denied Colman in favor of Jodie Foster, whose performance wasn’t even recognized by the Oscars this year. But the Critics Choice Awards also overlooked Colman while providing Maria Bakalova with a surprise win for Borat: Subsequent Moviefilm.

Precedent should still make me wary of picking Bakalova to win the award. After all, it’s a comedic performance which the Academy usually shies away from. However, this comedic turn was so good, it was able to expose Rudy Giuliani to be a creep with his hand down his pants in front of the world. That will appeal to Academy voters, especially after a year like 2020. Meanwhile my personal choice—Amanda Seyfried’s understated but wholly authentic restoration of Marion Davies’ image after Citizen Kane—may suffer from just a general apathy toward that film’s demeanor, at least from above the line voters. Her snub by her peers at the SAG Awards unfortunately speaks poorly of her chances.

Best Supporting Actor

Sacha Baron Cohen, The Trial of the Chicago 7 Daniel Kaluuya, Judas and the Black Messiah Leslie Odom Jr., One Night in Miami Paul Raci, Sound of Metal LaKeith Stanfield, Judas and the Black Messiah

Daniel Kaluuya’s performance in Judas and the Black Messiah is a sweltering achievement. With limited screen time—despite being the ostensible messiah of the film’s title—Kaluuya is searing as the Black Panther Party Chairman who created the Rainbow Coalition and was hounded to his death by the FBI through illegal means. I’m also partial to Sacha Baron Cohen’s turn in The Trial of the Chicago 7 where he showed a more sardonic range as a counterculture activist in the Windy City. But even I’ll concede his performance isn’t the one folks will probably be quoting for years to come.

Best Original Screenplay

Judas and the Black Messia Minari Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

Traditionally the Screenplay categories are where Academy voters tend to recognize the more challenging outside-the-mainstream Best Picture nominees they don’t want to give the top prize to. Ergo, it’s a great place for Emerald Fennell to pick up an award for Promising Young Woman. The movie is too candy colored bleak and light hearted in its tragedies to garner enough Academy support in Best Picture, but its originality will be awarded here.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Borat 2 The Father Nomadland One Night in Miami The White Tiger

I suspect the love for Nomadland will continue in the Adapted Screenplay category with Zhao picking up another Oscar. While the screenplay is quite brilliant, I personally feel the movie’s greater achievement is in its visual storytelling and melding of real stories with a broader fictional narrative. Whereas Kemp Powers’ adaptation of his own play is magnificent. There is a fair criticism to be made that Powers couldn’t fully escape the stageniess of his original conceit about spending a night in a motel room with Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Sam Cooke, and Jim Brown. But the acute intelligence of his dialogue, and the way it cuts to the tensions of Black responsibility juxtaposed with soft American power, is as potent as it is finally exciting.

Best Cinematography

Judas and the Black Messiah Mank News of the World Nomadland The Trial of the Chicago 7

I suppose I’m predicting a sweep for Nomadland, which in some ways will be earned. In others it may not, such as if Sean Bobbitt’s cinematography in Judas and the Black Messiah.

Best Film Editing

The Father Nomadland Promising Young Woman Sound of Metal The Trial of the Chicago 7

Film editing should be the one category Aaron Sorkin’s The Trial of the Chicago 7 has locked up. With a breathless pace executed in nervy style by Alan Baumgarten, The Trial of the Chicago 7 makes dialogue exchanges out to be as exciting as any special effects-heavy set piece.

Best Costume Design

Emma. Mank Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Mulan Pinocchio

I suspect Costumes will be one area where Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom receives some technical applause by the Academy. However, I think the pastel and historically accurate designs in Autumn de Wilde’s meticulously designed Emma. shouldn’t go overlooked.

Best Production Design

The Father Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Mank News of the World Tenet

The amount of painstaking research and effort that went into so minutely recreating 1930s Hollywood in David Fincher’s Mank is undeniable. While I am expecting largely a shutout for my favorite film of last year, this will be one place where Mank will not go ignored.

Best Makeup and Hairstyling

Emma Hillbilly Elegy Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom Mank Pinocchio

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom can win for Viola Davis’ immersive transformation into the Mother of the Blues alone.

Best Original Score

Da 5 Bloods Mank Minari News of the World Soul

It stands to reason that Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross will pick up another Oscar for the score of Soul, which will also mark the first one for co-writer Jon Batiste. This would be a happy outcome, but if I’m honest the Emile Mosseri score of Minari touched me more.

Best Animated Feature Film

Onward Over the Moon A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon Soul Wolfwalkers

It’s another open and shut year for Pixar thanks to Soul. There’s of course a case to be made for Wolfwalkers, which was a beautiful work of art that’s actually hand drawn. But it’s an open secret that most Academy voters (sadly) do not watch all the animated nominees, and pick solely from the Pixar/Disney catalog. And Soul really is one of the best Pixar films in quite a while so…

Best Visual Effects

Love and Monsters The Midnight Sky Mulan The One and Only Ivan Tenet

There is precedent for the Academy to award less than deserving films in this category simply because the winner is associated with a more popular movie in above the line categories. However, none of the above the line darlings were visual effects heavy this year, and for whatever you might think about Christopher Nolan’s Tenet, there is no denying its visual wizardry is astounding, from the stunt work that sees men bungie jumping upwards to having in-camera effects happening simultaneously in different time streams. So the movie that wanted to “save cinema” may not be entirely overlooked by the industry on Oscar night.

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from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/30PQKEk

[combat-wombatus]

uHm if you do these and if you want to do it I’d love a bnha matchup <3?

• my name is Aubri, I’m bi but prefer MHA boys tbh. I go by she/her, too.

• I’m a very Gryffindor person. (Sorry if you don’t know Harry Potter - 😖)

• I’m a June cancer, and I have ADHD and anxiety. My anxiety can be literally crippling somedays, but it’s gotten better overtime.

• I’m a bit of a class clown and usually just a clown 🤡 but that’s irrelevant. My teachers all hate me but like school-wise I do well so we have a love and mostly hate relationship 🤧

• I’m usually the ‘entertaining’ friend, in elementary the popular kids would invite me to play games with them because, “you’re funny” and it was like the biggest achievement ever 😭👍🏻 then they’d ignore me but that’s another therapy session

• I’m usually made fun of by people for being ‘weird’ and ‘insane’. Like all through elementary everyone thought I’d be a criminal when I grew up JUST BECAUSE I HAD UNDIAGNOSED ADHD - I hate it here 😐🦶🏻

• I’ve always been super into crime stories/true crime (where my anxiety comes from, I’m always worried about a pesky serial killer just killing me. It’s usually being kidnapped tho lmao) so I knew and still know like all these murder facts and sometimes I’d just randomly be like;

“Hey did you know it takes 12 hours and 2 days to dissolve a body in acid?”

or

“If you bury a dead deer over a dead body you buried deep in the ground, when police dogs sniff it and people dig they’ll just think it was the deer and won’t dig any farther.”

• So maybe people had a reason to be scared of me and think I’ll be a criminal someday, i dunno.

• I love love love reading and writing, and also debating. The things I’ve wanted to be when I grow up are basically: Dog shelter worker, actress, FBI agent, politician, and a writer. But usually I just want to do something that makes a positive impact on people. Like i wanted to be an FBI agent to solve crimes for people. I wanted to be a politican so I could actually help a lot of people. The entertainment industry also seemed like a way to make people happy. Idk, but then I decided I couldn’t be a politican at 10 because they were all corrupt and to be one I would have to be too. 😫🤌🏻 we love some good childhood angst

• the only subjects I’ve ever excelled at are ELA and Social Studies aka History, and Math I can’t do to save my life. ELA comes easy for me and I usually don’t have to work that hard and/or get too stressed over it. But I always get the meanest teachers for some reason. For example, one time I did my final essay for like 30% of my grade in 30 minutes the day it was due and I got an A+ 🦟🦗🦟🦗

• Uhhh id describe myself as a pretty loyal friend, I’m a ride or die type of girl. A story from my childhood that summarizes it pretty well is when I was in 2nd grade my friend wet her pants and she didn’t want to go to the nurse for it alone so I peed my pants so I could go with her and she wouldn’t have to be alone. Like, you know, a professional problem solver

• and I have genuinely attacked people for fucking with my friends but don’t snitch pls 🕳🏃‍♀️💨

• But also just anyone, people at my school tend to come to me with their problems for me to either help solve them by reasoning, or just to confront the other person like the bad bleep I am 😈😈

• I also have a huge daydreaming problem, it’s literally maladaptive daydreaming. So paired with my ADHD I don’t get shit done like ever.

• I have really high empathy levels I guess, like I always say hi to everyone I see on the street, especially if they look sad 😔 I’ve done it ever since I was a little kiddo.

• My fashion sense is very much a preppy/alt style. I wear those ripped tights and fishnets, I also have the MOST BIZARRE JEWELRY- like who allowed me to buy the gummy worm glittery earrings, hmmm???????? and those Mary Janes???????

• But I love crew necks and pleated skirts so I always obide by the National “hoes dont get cold” policy 🇺🇸😫🦅

• I wanna move somewhere someday, I don’t want to stay in America for very long

• I can speak Latin, French, and my native language which is English.

• My music taste varies, but my all-time favorite artists who all of their music they’ve ever put out has been my favorites are, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez, and Conan Gray.

• I no-joke have a sign in my front yard that says;

In ✍️ this ✍️ house we ✍️ don’t ✍️ worship Jesus ✍️ but instead ✍️ Melanie ✍️ Martinez

• My favorite shows are MHA (duh), The Promised Neverland, and Malcolm in The Middle.

• and I’m not going to tell you what I prefer in a partner, because that ruins the fun 😤

• but I will say I cannot be friends with someone who doesn’t really make me laugh. Like I’m used to doing most of the talking in convos but if you’re just boring I’m sorry it’s nothing personal but no thanks 😐✌🏻

• About my physical appearance, I have fluffy n curly brown hair, but when it’s in the sunlight it looks sort of brown but golden yk?? It’s shoulder length :) I have bleach blonde streaks in the front. I like wearing eyeliner most days, too. I’m pretty average size/ on the skinnier side. Kinda high key inscure abt my body bc I got flat shamed in elementary EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TIDDIES NOW- whatever 😤🙄. I also have crystal type blue eyes, and I do have fairly big eyes. But, like, not weirdly big. A good big. My cheekbones are ALWAYS PRESENT so sometimes I get called a Tim Burton character but it’s cool ig ☠️☠️ oh and I’m kinda short. I’m 5’3, even though my doctor said I’d be 5’7. I feel like I was either tricked by the doctor or someone just stole my destined height while I was asleep. It’s probably cause I didn’t keep an eye out for Selener 👁 😔😔

• I’m a definite night owl, like all of my energy comes at night which really sucks cuz I can’t do much since everyone else is asleep.

• My love language is touch starved so I’ve never figured it out ✌🏻😗🔫

• but I am an attention whore so idk 😏

• I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety. It isn’t as bad as it used to be cuz I used to not be able to like go to restaurants but now I’m much better.

• I’m a huge history person, mostly like sad history LMFAO. Uh but a lot of my hyperfixations have been on history. Some examples are The Roman Empire, Julius Caesar himself, Anne Frank, The Titanic, the Black Plauge, Helen Keller, Marie Curie, Slavery in the US, Joan of Arc, and just a lot more. I always love talking about these things if someone would let me ramble to them but no one ever does 😖 it also got to a point where for all these subjects I’d go to the library and try to find a book on them but usually I’d either have already read it or I’d read it and know all the information.

• I’m super into Greek Mythology, I have 7 books filled with the stories, I’m going to Greece maybe this summer to see it’s history, and named my hamster Aphrodite but we call her Aphie. I also will talk about this forever and ever if you let me.

• My favorite color is yellow, my favorite food is literally nothing I never have an appetite, my favorite planet is Saturn, favorite song is Tag Your It by Melanie Martinez atm but it changes like everyday.

• Music is a huge safe-space for me if I’m feeling down or having a panic attack. It calms me down n is overall my coping mechanism 💃🏻💃🏻

• Biggest fear is spiders, even looking at one gives me a panic attack and I cannot sleep at all for that night, adding to my insomniac ass 🧎🏻‍♂️🏌️‍♀️

• I’m mature for my age, I don’t exactly like hanging around kids my age and I get along better with older crowds.

• i don’t like conventional dates, (I PROMISE IM NOT TRYING TO SOUND ‘QUIRKY’ AHAHA) I kind of like having a best-friend type partner more so dates that aren’t as romantic as like the movies or a fancy restaurant suite me better. My dream date is playing Monopoly on my bedroom floor 🦧

• Also I hate getting gifts. End of story. If someone gets me a gift like awe that’s nice but never again, I’d prefer to get you one. Especially in a romantic partner 😐 i keep a journal of my friends’ interests and hobbies so I can get them the perfect gifts for their bdays and Christmas’s. Been doing this ever since 4th grade.

• Though I don’t have much actual experience with relationships🧍🏻‍♀️

• I’m a huge believer in ‘family isn’t blood, it’s who you make it’ because I have a pretty shitty family life and my childhood has been trash. My friends are my family to me.

• Also if my friends don’t like my romantic partner ✨ GOODBYE ✨. Sorry girlie, bros before hoes 🦨💨

I was going to put more but I’m so so sorry for how LONG AND COMPLICATED THIS IS- idk if this is a autobiography or a matchup at this point 🤦‍♀️ don’t feel pressured to do this and if matchups aren’t open IM SO SO SORRY LMAO uh yeah ilysm 🦎🎂🧃

OMG ASLDFKJHASLKDJH

🥺 i’m so sorry bby but matchups are closed ;-; my 100 follower event was over while ago (i guess i should’ve specified that in the asks i answered LKSAJHFLKJAHDS SORRY IT’S MY BAD) but you sound so cool?? i had a lot of the same hyperfixations interests (heLLO helen keller was badass AF and the roman empire was messed up but still v cool, anne frank was awesome too) i also may or may not have wanted to be a politician when i was younger alskdjfhalkdhj but now i’m just 🧍🏻‍♀️ lost and anyways you’re amazing >.< love u lots and don’t forget to drink water and eat a lil something hehe :p 

[marvelgreyson]

Representation and the future of the MCU

I’ve been into WandaVision pretty intensely, it’s a great show.  I wonder if the other shows will live up to it.  I think Falcon and the Winter Soldier will be ok, I highly doubt Bucky will be queer because in some article I saw that Loki will have a male and female love interest in his show so someone is patting themselves on the back for that.  It’s probably going to lopsided, like passionate with the female and a few cheeky remarks with the male.   In the past I would have been ok with that, but I’m tired of ok.  The MCU skipped and danced around having adequate representation of women and minorities where only sidekicks and love interest.  They only became leads in Black Panther and Captain Marvel the 18th and 21st released films.  From the studio’s view they have to find out if the public is ready and willing to pay for a film with a non male, non white lead.  If a film is released with a non male, non white lead and does poorly it will be blamed on that rather than a bad script, superhero fatigue, or a merit of other thing that can go wrong in a film, for example, every female lead superhero movie that isn’t the first Wonder Woman or Captain Marvel.  Supergirl, Catwoman, and Electra would have been just as bad if they had white male leads.  

The golden age of comics mostly had white, straight, cis male heroes because white, straight, cis men were writing the stories.  The comic’s code didn’t allow lgbt+ character so adapting the older characters was easy. Even silver age comics were affected for example, Mystique and Destiny where meant to be the biological parents of Nightcrawler, but the comic’s code forbade Mystique and her genderfluid glory and her and Destiny were roommates for a while.  In the fox X-men movies there isn’t a hint a of Mystique’s pansexuality, not even for the sake of the male gaze.  And people can say well in the comics… and well that happened later.  Yes, that’s true but those who were working on the stories were trying to have representation, but it was crushed many times before it could happen.  

Right now the MCU machine shows no signs of stopping and is introducing the next crop of heroes.  In WandaVision the twins Billy and Tommy have been introduced, code names Wiccan and Speed.  If they stick around, we have to see how the show goes, the MCU may have the Young Avengers team in the future.  In Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness the character of America Chavez will be introduced, and Theodore Altman is a Kree/Skrull hybrid so he could around in the universe.  All these characters are queer.  Billy and Teddy are married in the comics.  Tommy is bisexual and in a relationship with fellow young avenger and bisexual David Alleyne.  America Chavez was raised by two mothers and is a lesbian.  Kid Loki might be there.  Kate Bishop, who will be in the Hawkeye series, she’s Hawkeye junior, has kinda crushed on America.  This most likely won’t be mentioned.  Will the MCU include a full picture of these characters, their hopes, dreams, motivations, and histories or just have enough pieces of the characters on screen to say look we have queer characters.  

I know that Valkyrie is queer and will probably have a crush on Jane Foster, but that most likely won’t turn into anything.  There was talk that in some way it would be confirmed that Carol Danvers and Maria Rambeau were a couple.  Carol and Valkyrie would be a great couple.   

*Mystique debuted during the bronze age of comics, but the story about her almost being Nightcrawler’s father is accurate.

[bombshellbois]

Sticking Points

Rating: T

Summary: The summer of 1986 doesn’t look much different to Billy than the summer of 1985 did, when it started. Few more scars, few more burned bridges, but not much else has changed. He’s still working at the pool, and still giving swimming lessons to bratty kids. Today the bratty kid is Holly Wheeler.

It’s funny the things that stick in life. Billy has found himself thinking that a lot lately. His days are eerily similar to last summer, right down to the weight of the lifeguard whistle against his chest. Sure, there was the brush with actual fucking monsters (not really a brush so much as a head-on collision) but… he didn’t have any better ideas once summer came around again, really. It’s been long enough that he can drown out the memory of that voice that screamed inside his head that the sun would kill him. He still needs a job, still misses the beaches of California, and the best Hawkins can offer is this goddamn pool so… 

It’s not like he has any more bad memories of this place than he does of anywhere else. 

Sitting on the corner of the pool beside him, dangling her legs into the shallows, is Holly Wheeler. She’s got goggles on her head that look too big for her, with worn blue rubber around the lenses. The neon fish on her swimsuit with the tail the trails on and on reminds Billy vaguely of album art. He’d compliment her taste if he thought she did it on purpose. 

Talk about things that stick. Billy’s not sure if Karen has regrets one year later, or if she’s still hanging onto some kind of guilt, but she was insistent that Billy had to give Holly swimming lessons. The size of the tip she gave him and the fact that she gave it to him up front suggests guilt. 

“I already know how to swim,” Holly tells him matter-of-factly. She’s staring at him with the same huge dark eyes that her brother and sister both have. She’s blond as fuck, though. Where the hell did that come from? Karen must have used so much peroxide when she was knocked up that it soaked into the womb or something. 

“I know.”

“I was here every day last summer,” Holly persists. “Swimming.”

“I know,” Billy repeats. “I was the lifeguard last summer.”

She squints at him, like she’s trying to remember if that’s true, probably stretching the limits of her 6-year-old memory span. 

“So you already know I’m a good swimmer,” she says. Billy does know. She knows most of what he’s supposed to teach kids her age, but that’s her problem for having a mom who runs too wet for the pretty ones. 

“I’m gonna make you a better swimmer,” he says. “Your form is shit.”

“You can’t say that!” she gasps. “Steve said I’m really good!”

Billy expected her to say he can’t say ‘shit’ because kids believe in rules like that. She doesn’t, probably because she has to hear worse than that from her brother. The Steve thing… Billy isn’t expecting it, but it isn’t a surprise, either. Hawkins’ Golden Boy is gunning for mother of the year. And hey, in this town where his competition is mostly the Karens and the Susans, he just might get it.

“Steve is a nice person.” That’s not Billy’s favorite thing to admit. Makes him feel guilty too easily. “But he’s also a liar.”

And Billy would know. 

***

Steve has been to the hospital room a handful of times. Billy suspects he’s been to the parking lot way more often because Neil and Susan sure as hell aren’t bringing Max by as often as she’s here. He just sits there and makes chit-chat every time. He’s good at that, at talking and saying nothing at all. Billy can’t decide if it’s because that’s what silver spooners learn or if Steve is just actually a dumbass. 

“You know I don’t actually care, right?” Billy finally says, cutting off Steve’s intense re-telling of his debate with Keith about whether or not Teen Wolf belongs in the horror section.

“You could tell me what you do care about and then I can talk about that,” Steve offers, not missing a beat. Billy rolls his eyes and falls back into the silence he’s lived in for most of Steve’s visits. 

Steve groans. 

“Billy. Come on, talk to me. I’m not still mad about last year, you know. We can just… start over.”

There are no free passes in life. Billy knows that for a fact. Which means Steve is just saying the right thing you’re supposed to say when someone is in the hospital. He’s a fucking liar, is what he is.

***

“Steve is not a liar,” Holly huffs. “He was a swimmer. He knows when people are good.”

“Steve’s sport was basketball.” Billy grabs the pink boogie board from the side of the pool and drops it into the water. “He just happens to have a pool in his backyard.” 

“He was a swimmer when he was dating my sister.” Holly wrinkles her nose at the board and kicks it, making it float off further into the pool. “I’ve seen other swimming lessons. You want me to hold onto that and kick, but I already know how to kick.”

Billy… sort of believes that because Steve was never all that great at basketball, but he did have a jock reputation before Billy came to town. And he’s already kind of wondered sometimes why the guy always brings his pack of kids to the public pool instead of just using his back yard. But then Holly decides to be a massive pain in the ass and he decides he still doesn’t care about any mystery involving Steve Harrington. 

He has to handle the Wheeler brat instead.

“Look.” Billy drops his elbow to his knee so his hunched posture puts him on eye-level with Holly. “I know you know how to kick. But we have to go through the lessons, got it?” She’s pursing her lips like she’s about to start bitching again, so Billy just brings out the big guns. “And if I tick off all the little boxes of shit you know how to do, you get a whistle at the end of the week.”

That gets her attention. Bribing always works with kids, but he’s pretty sure Holly knows it’s a bribe. She understands checking off boxes that might be pointless in exchange for a reward. Billy would bet anything her limp-dick dad uses that technique all the time. 

“I want the whistle,” she says, pulling her goggles down over her eyes. They slide down her nose, the band way too big on her head to form anything closed to a seal. 

“Those are too big for you,” Billy says, holding out his hand. “I’ll hold ‘em. Go get the board.”

Holly pulls them off and hands them to him. “I want them back,” she warns. “Steve gave them to me for my swimming class. He won a trophy once with them and said they’ll bring me good luck.”

Billy doesn’t believe in luck, and personally thinks there would have been more use in Steve just getting Holly a pair of goggles that fit right. But people like stories and sentiments like that. And Steve likes giving people shit.

***

There’s  hairspray on the table beside Billy’s bed. Not the right kind, mainly because it’s the expensive shit, where the can is muted chrome, and the logo is in thick, flowy letters. Max sure as hell didn’t buy it. There’s not a long list of people visiting him in the hospital, but there’s only one who would think doing his hair would make him feel better. 

Someone (meaning Max) must have shared with Steve that Billy’s latest ‘milestone’ (because every single fucking thing counts as a milestone if your injuries fuck you up enough) is being allowed to shower on his own. He’s happy about that, don’t get him wrong. The nurses around here are not the stuff of wet dreams, and being sponged by a 60-something who talks about her collapsed uterus was pretty much hell. But seriously, he didn’t need that shared with Harrington. That guy is being weird enough about this already. 

Billy hates that he kind of wants to. Wants to wash his hair, which feels grimy and flat from being slept on so much. Wants to pick it with a comb while it’s damp, give it some lift, rub it dry with a t-shirt so it won’t frizz… and yeah, maybe spray it in place a little. And he really fucking hates that the town pretty boy, with his head of brunette fluff and nothing else, understands that so well. 

He dumps the can in the trash and makes sure Steve can see it in there.

***

Holly retrieves the board and kicks her way back over with it. Billy mentally checks off that box in his head. Yeah, he’ll probably make her do it some more just so she’s quiet for longer. He’s gonna milk the promise of that graduation whistle for as long as he can. But the kid can clearly already kick. 

“Don’t scuff them,” she reminds him when he must run a thumb over the rim of the goggles in the wrong way or something. Billy sighs internally. Clearly Harrington’s next generation of kids are already forming their attachments to him. Which means Billy is going to have to see him shuttling kids to and from the pool well after his current bunch gets their licenses. 

“I’m not scuffing Steve’s shitty goggles, kid,” he snaps.

“They’re my goggles now,” she says, the imperious tone grating in the same way her brother’s does. And her sister’s. Fucking Wheelers, man. “And you should be nicer to Steve.”

“Steve isn’t even here. Why does it matter?” Billy sets the goggles on the side of the pool so the kid can stop glowering at him. 

“Because he said I should be nice to you,” she says,  tossing the boogie board up onto the poolside where it turns the stones darker with a splatter of water. 

God Billy wants a fucking cigarette. “Can’t imagine why he did that. We’re not friends.”

***

“We’re not buddies, Harrington.” There’s venom in Billy’s voice, but Steve just looks tired. And kind of frustrated, like he knows he opened his mouth too wide and can’t take it back now. 

“I didn’t say we were. Or that we were going to be.”

He didn’t. But ‘I can help with your PT if you want’ isn’t exactly something to say to the guy you had a fistfight with a few months ago. It’s a nice offer and it’s coming after too many goddamn nice things, and Billy… Billy is over it. Harrington just keeps showing up and talking and trying to act like he and Billy are just gonna be nice to each other. Like that’s a thing that happens in real life. 

“I don’t want your fucking help.”

“I know.” And Steve sounds like he does know. Maybe he knows exactly how much Billy hates every second he insists on sitting in that plastic chair, hates every chipper word out of his mouth. And still keeps coming like a sadist. Or a masochist. Or both in one fucking punching bag of a package. 

“So fuck off! Stop showing up to visit me, stop leaving shit around my room life a fucking creeper! Get on with your shitty life, maybe go collect some more kids to need you!” Billy is sure some of that wounds. If Steve’s fall from grace in his senior year was a Greek tragedy, his languishing in a humiliating job while everyone else went off to college was some depressing Dickens shit. The kind where everyone knows, and everyone judges and tuts about it. But other than a little tightening in the jaw, Steve doesn’t react. 

Billy’s stomach does. Turns sour and roils and wants to take it all back as badly as Steve wanted to take back his offer to help. But the words are out and it’s full steam ahead, and he’s slapping his palm repeatedly against the button to call the nurse before Steve can do something stupid like apologize, like he’s the one who did something wrong. 

Steve doesn’t visit again. He can’t. Billy tells the nurses he doesn’t want him in there, and never asks if he tries to come back.

***

“You know, if you’re not nice to people, then no one will by nice to you,” Holly tells him, breaking Billy out of his reverie. The wisdom of a 6-year-old. “But if you’re nice, like to Steve, then maybe you can be friends.”

“Wow, is that how friends work?” Billy rolls his eyes, but it’s probably lost on Holly since he has sunglasses on. “Consider me fuckin’ schooled.”

Holly grasps at the lip of the pool a few times , trying to pull herself out. It doesn’t work, so she just waves a hand at Billy’s arm until he obliges and holds it out to her. She grabs it and pull herself out of the water, planting her butt back on the corner of the pool.

“Thank you,” she says. “Now you say ‘you’re welcome’ to me.”

“Trying to improve my manners, kid?”

“Yes. Good manners make it easier to make friends.”

Billy sighs and hands her back her goggles. His brain hurts, and his chest feels a little tight from too much thinking. Too many memories that are still fresh enough to sting. A cursory glance at the row of moms confirms that no, Karen didn’t stick around. Definitely a guilt thing.

“Tell you what. Why don’t we skip the rest of the baby lessons today and I buy your silence with a popsicle from the staff freezer?”

Holly, like all smart kids, knows when she’s got a good offer on the table. She nods immediately, fitting Steve’s goggles back on her head. “Deal.”

Billy stands up and heads for the staff office, with small, wet footsteps slapping the ground behind him. Holly might be okay. She’s a quick kid, and not quite as annoying as her siblings. Yet. She might even be right about a few things too. 

And with any luck, as long as there’s a decent stash of flavors to barter with in the freezer, she might even be useful in figuring out how Steve likes people to be nice to him. 

[auntynationalsblog]

Fargo: Top 10 Characters

Television shows like Breaking Bad, The Sopranos and The Wire are definitely three of the greatest in the genre of non-fantasy dramas, thrillers, and crime fiction. If you love those three shows, but you are unfamiliar with Fargo, stop whatever you are doing, and watch it now. Right now. Thank me later. 

One of the reasons why Fargo is a work of genius is the intensity and depth of its characters. These characters, in my opinion, have earned the right to be categorized alongside Walter White, Tony Soprano, Omar Little and Don Draper, as some of the legendary TV characters of all time. This blog takes a look at eleven of the most astonishing characters Fargo has provided to the world of television. 

Beware of spoilers, obviously. 

Consolation Prize: Lester Nygaard (Season 1)

“Old Lester, now, he would've just let it slide. But not this guy.”

Played by Martin Freeman, or better known as Dr. John Watson from the twenty-first-century version of Sherlock Holmes, Lester Nygaard is a loser. Like all losers, we tend to feel bad for him, until his personality develops in a way which makes us abandon our pity for him. Pity is replaced by disgust, and sadness is replaced by anger. Lester’s transformation from a good-for-nothing non-achiever to a devious and heartless criminal and fugitive is definitely one of the most subtle character developments I’ve seen on TV. His role is often overshadowed by two other characters from the same season. Very important character nonetheless, brilliantly portrayed by Freeman.  

10. Wes Wrench/Mr. Wrench (Season 1, Season 3)

“ “

Played by the deaf, yet brilliant actor - Russel Harvard - Mr. Wrench also can’t hear. What can do is kill. He is an assassin, and he is loyal and lethal. He appears in the first season as one-half of the committed team of Mr. Wrench and Mr. Numbers (Grady Numbers). Wrench’s childish attitude is quick to win the hearts of the audience, while his kill skills and will-power earn him a spot on this list. After losing his partner (Mr. Numbers) in a gunfight, he is spared by his partner’s killer because the killer was himself impressed by Wrench’s skills and character. He reappears in season three as an invaluable accomplice to another character on this list, a role which makes us love him even more. 

9.  Molly Solverson (Season 1)

“Got to love a man who keeps his word, right?“

Played by Allison Tolman, Molly is the walking-definition of a young and hungry-for-justice police officer. A daughter to a police officer and a granddaughter to a sheriff, Molly is the character that makes us nurture the hope that there is hope for goodness and justice. After losing her murdered chief early on in the show, who is replaced by an incompetent one, Molly takes up the challenge of solving her chief’s murder all by herself, and she quickly finds herself trapped in a world of assassins and conspiracies. But despite being shot and hospitalized, she just does not give in, acting as the top cop that she isn’t. The character even earned Tolman the Emmy and Golden Globe nominations. 

8. V.M. Varga (Season 3)

“The past is unpredictable.”

Played by David Thewlis, or as we know him - Professor Remus ‘Mooney’ Lupin - from the Harry Potter world, Varga is sick, and in all likelihood he will make you sick to the stomach. Sadistic and ruthless, with a portrait of Joseph Stalin on his desk, Varga uses a businessman hitherto leading a happy and normal life to further his money laundering scheme. Intimidation and disposal seem to be his key tactics to success, apparent when he makes the businessman’s subordinate drink his own urine as a punishment for acting suspiciously. With the worst teeth on the show, and probably suffering from bulimia, Thewlis’ villainous role does not allow us to take even a one minute break between episodes.    

7. Floyd Gerhardt (Season 2)

“Three times, I sent men to do a job. Three times, they come back unfinished. I'll handle this myself.”

Played by Jean Smart, Floyd Gerhardt inherited one of the most difficult jobs in the world. After her husband Otto, the head of the Gerhardt crime syndicate, suffers a stroke and is unable to lead the mafia any longer, Floyd takes over all the guns and the money. Her eldest boy, Dodd, is unwilling to accept a woman, who is also old, as the new mafia don. However, throughout the season, Floyd shows us who’s boss as she uses an iron hand to deal with a rival gang from Kansas City and to investigate the homicide of her youngest son. One of the characteristics of Floyd which makes us like her so much is her love and concern for her granddaughter, who is mostly abused and humiliated by her father Dodd. The characters in season 2 are the strongest, but without Floyd, none of the other characters would be as appealing as they are. 

6. Gloria Burgle (Season 3)

“There’s violence to knowing the world isn't what you thought.”

Played by Carrie Coon, Gloria is the older version of Molly Solverson. After finding her stepdad murdered via asphyxiation, Gloria’s investigation leads to bizarre outcomes that find her entwined in something very big and very dangerous. A recently divorced woman, whose position of Chief also got taken away, her new Chief is simply intolerable, who demands of her to let go of the investigation. But like Molly, she just doesn’t give up, and her relentless pursuit constitutes the heart of the third season. Gloria is an example of how some police officers simply cannot be intimidated or corrupted into submission. The final scene of Fargo is a conversation between Varga and Gloria, and arguably, that tense scene is one of the best dialogue exchanges in the series. A true superhero. 

5. Lou Solverson (Season 2)

“Am I the only one here who’s clear on the concept of law enforcement?”

A loving father, a caring husband and the hotshot cop of town, Lou Solverson, played by Patrick Wilson, is your Marvel/DC superhero. Lou actually made his first appearance in the first season, as Molly’s father - former cop currently running a diner. In the second season, we are given a glimpse of Lou’s glory days as he single-handedly takes on both the Gerhardt Family and the Kansas City Mafia. Two things to note about Lou’s character - fearlessness and morality. Lou just does not submit to intimidation, as is seen in his confrontations with Mike Milligan on one occasion and with the Gerhardt Family on another. On the latter aspect, Lou is forced to take in his long-time friend Ed Blumquist on charges of murder, but the element of friendship does not deter Lou to do what he knows is his duty and is morally right. 

4. Mike Milligan (Season 2)

“If the goal is to kill those who oppress you, what does it matter who goes first?”

Played by Bokeem Woodbine, Mike Milligan is the epitome of suave. A well-read man, who often uses poetic quotes out of nowhere to dramatize his point, Mike is an assassin working for the Kansas City Mafia, and is in charge of ripping the Gerhardt Family apart. Arguably the most cunning and nefarious character of the second season, what sets Mike apart from other villains is the unbelievable aura of calm he brings to a seemingly tense situation. Varga does that too, but Mike does it better. Intelligence is his most lethal weapon, as his loyal henchmen, known as The Kitchen Brothers, carry out most of the bloodshed for him. At the end, although Mike meets a fate worse than death, most of us would die to be him during a gang-war.  

3. Lorne Malvo (Season 1)

“There are no saints in the animal kingdom. Only breakfast and dinner.”

Played by the former husband of Angelina Jolie, Billy Bob Thornton’s portrayal of Lorne Malvo goes down as the greatest villainous role in Fargo. Malvo, in simple words, is pure evil. He does not care. He is a predator, with an ideology best put as, “kill or be killed”.  He begins an unusual friendship with the Lester Nygaard, whose character is antithetical to that of Malvo. He even saves Lester from arrest and gradually, through his venomous words, turns him from an innocent loser into a evil loser. Eventually, Lester tries to show him who’s boss, realizing he couldn’t have made a worse choice about who to fuck around with. The personification of evil that is Malvo, can be categorized with characters such an Anton Chigurh, the Joker and Hans Gruber (who has an unusual physical resemblance with Malvo) on the list of the greatest villains of all time. 

2. Ohanzee “Hanzee” Dent (Season 2)

“ “Send the Indian,” they'd say. “Who cares about booby traps? Give Hanzee a flashlight and a knife and send him down into the black echo.” ” 

Played by Zahn McClarnon, Hanzee Dent is not an evil guy. He is a bad man, sure. But he is not EVIL. He is not a villain. Society alienated him, treated him like a mongrel and made him a ticking time-bomb only seconds away from the boom. A native-american assassin recruited by Otto Gerhardt from a very young age, Hanzee appears to be a loyal hit-man for the Gerhardt Family, until he loses his shit. An unstoppable force and a ruthless killer with a history of military service (Vietnam), Hanzee has an agenda of his own. His killing spree is triggered by a sign outside a pub boasting about murders of 22 Sioux Indians who were hung there, with a puddle of dried vomit beneath it. Arguably the most complicated character of the show, with an intense development of personality, Hanzee Dent is the only character in the show who is a lethal assassin but makes us pity him and root for him. 

One Last Consolation Prize: Peggy Blumquist (Season 2)

“I just wanted to be someone.” 

Played by Kirsten Dunst, or Mary Jane from the Tobey Maguire Spiderman series, Peggy Blumquist is the source of all the drama. After she accidentally runs over the youngest Gerhardt son, Rye Gerhardt, her husband, Ed Blumquist (another brilliant character) becomes number one on the Gerhardt Family’s blacklist, and acquires the nickname - The Butcher of Luverne. Peggy should not be perceived as stupid or a trouble-maker. Throughout the show, she feels what many of us also feel, that we are not living up to our potential. Her interests conflict with her husband’s interests, but eventually she does everything in her capacity to clean up the mess that she (unintentionally) created, and to save her husband from the cops and the mafia. Her portrayal by Dunst was vastly appreciated by critics and fans alike, but in a show comprising of so many awesome characters, it was impossible for me to include Peggy in my top ten.  

1. Nikki Swango (Season 3)

“You've made me the happiest woman ever. Now, let's make a sex tape.”

In Fargo, we have super-heroes, heroes, villains and super-villains, and we have Nikki Swango, portrayed by Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Right from the moment we saw her eliminate a threat to her grand plan with the help an air-conditioner, Nikki provided Fargo with the most unique ‘unique character’. A genius who utilizes her intellect in a professional game of cards (Bridge), she may be, at first, perceived as selfish and shallow. But towards the end, it is evident that she actually did love her fiance Ray Stussy, and wasn’t just using him for her personal ambitions. It is hard to put a hero/villain label on her because she embodies the key characteristics of both roles - empathy, willpower, deviousness, ruthlessness and a thick skin. Her partnership with Mr. Wrench, her plan to execute the entire squad led by Varga AND extort two million dollars from him has to be one of the most memorable moments of the series. Not to forget how she, along with Wrench, hijacked the truck carrying all the documents needed by the IRS to prosecute Varga. Simply put, Nikki Swango is the badass of the show. 

So that’s my list. I won’t ask you to like or comment on my blog (some feedback would be appreciated though). All I want from the world of Netflix, is that this TV show receives the viewership and appreciation that it deserves, which it hasn’t gotten yet. 

[tillidontneedfantasy]

‘WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?’ - Billie Eilish REVIEW: Making ‘Em Bow One By One

WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO?

An interesting question you pose there, Billie. When I fall asleep, I usually dream about being a part of the Harry Potter universe and trying to defeat Voldemort with the golden trio. But unfortunately, I don’t go there every night. I mean, believe me, fighting off The Dark Lord can be scary sometimes. But sometimes I go to even darker places, and it always takes a few moments when waking up to believe I’m really in my bed. Much of Billie Eilish’s debut album invites you into the dark parts of her subconscious, and sometimes her extreme consciousness, to which she goes. Of course, “asleep” could also be interpreted as, well, dead. Which is a nice way to phrase it. Ideal, really. How wonderful would it be if death was just an eternal nap? No one would ever be afraid to die.

Maybe that’s what Billie believes it is, and why she seems so desperate to go there on WHEN WE ALL FALL ASLEEP, WHERE DO WE GO? (WWAFA,WDWG?) For a then-16-year-old girl, I wish she wasn’t so tired. “ilomilo,” “bury a friend” and most concerning, “listen before I go,” explore her friends who have been taken from her, and her desire to join them. I’m glad she hasn’t.

So is she. In a now traditional Vanity Fair video, Billie answers the same interview questions three years in a row, exactly a year apart. Expect The Fourth Year one October 18th, 2020. It is one of the most fascinating videos I have ever watched. Though the same at the core, there is a different version of Billie in each year. Which is to be expected, as she is a teenager in the limelight. But the video of year 2, which was around 5 months prior to WWAFA,WDWG?’s release, Billie openly admits to being in a very dark place, discussing how her friend had died. Her posture and affect are noticeably different in years 1 and 3. In the third and latest installment, Billie is an upgraded, happier and more comfortable version of the previous two. You can hear the change in her voice, see it in her face. In response to the question, “What’s most important to you right now?” her answer is, “Maintaining my happiness, which I have been experiencing for the first time in many years….I wanna stay happy. That’s a big goal for me.”

Billie Eilish is one of the biggest breakout stars of the past few years. Her following is enormous, and though fans vary in age, many of them fall in her cohort. Generation Z is special in many ways: morbidly funny, proudly outspoken, self-aware, and unafraid to be different. Billie Eilish is all of these things incarnate, the perfect spearhead for this generation and what they represent. She dresses how she wants to dress and makes the kind of music that she wants to make, refusing to follow the molded expectations of young up and coming female stars before her. In that music, she also does what very few artists, young or old, have ever done: candidly explores mental illness and suicidal ideation.

These issues have become more and more prevalent in today’s society, yet they are still extremely stigmatized. Like many teenagers, I experienced the sadness and darkness Billie is singing about. I’m almost 25 now, but I can imagine how 15-year-old Cass would feel hearing this album and seeing Billie as she is in the third year of that Vanity Fair interview. Understood. Not alone. And hopeful, hopeful that things get better. At that age you feel like everything is the end of the world, because it is developmentally and socially some of the most difficult years in the human experience. And to hear someone you look up to say, “I feel this way, too,” and then see them continue fighting, and happy that they did...that can change someone’s life.

Thankfully, Billie still injects some levity into the album. The musical hook in “bad guy” feels like a defining moment for Gen Z the way the musical hook in “Toxic” was for us Millennials. “all the good girls go to hell” unflinchingly decrees that God Is A Woman™, and “my strange addiction” has cuts from The Office, Eilish’s favorite show, interspersed throughout the song. Gen Z is taking over, and Billie’s one hell of a ringleader.

STRONGEST TRACK(S): “i love you,” “xanny”

The phrase “I love you” has never felt so intimate as it does coming from Billie’s mouth in the penultimate track on WWAFA,WDWG? Sandwiched between two tracks where all together they form a sentence (listen before I go, I love you, goodbye) "i love you" is the most mesmerizing and most vulnerable, not just of the three but of the whole album. As a listener, you are dying to know what's hidden between the lines. Why doesn't she want to love this person even though she clearly does? What did she do to make him cry? Why are you, the listener, crying right now? With the smallest breath, the quietest whisper, the emotion Eilish emits is enormous. Every once in a while you hear a song that you feel will never leave you, and “i love you” has all the makings to be everlasting.

As does the message in “xanny,” a dynamic song that mostly sounds like an old-time jazz track, although infuses a blaring noise over the chorus, as if you are standing right next to the booming stereo at the party setting in which she speaks. The layering of hums in the background and at the end of the song provides a necessary subtle softness, making it all the more beautiful. The track is a statement from Eilish that she has no interest in the lifestyle that so many kids her age- famous or not- lead, partly because she does not understand the appeal of its effects, and partly because she does not want to invest herself in someone willingly bringing harm upon themself, as she previously has. “I can’t afford to love someone who isn’t dying by mistake,” she asserts. Of course, most things in moderation are good and fine, but there is an ever-persistent pressure for young people to use substances, for easier social interactions or easier claim to desirable social status. There is a plethora of music out there promoting the party lifestyle, but very few saying, “hey, it’s okay if you’re not about this, you’re still cool,” and so a celebrity as big as Billie abstaining from it, and providing a reasonable explanation, gives a figure of understanding and solidarity to all the outliers.

WEAKEST TRACK: “8”

Not a bad song by any means, “8” is just the least memorable on an album filled with extremely intriguing and standout tracks. There is an interesting choice of vocal styles that alternate throughout, one of which it sounds as if Eilish is emulating the voice of a little girl. She is asking the subject to just give her some common courtesy and hear her out. "Who am I to be in love / when your love never is for me?" she asks, in the most compelling moment of the song. It is a difficult line to walk, knowing someone doesn't owe you anything but wanting them to anyway. Although the song is effective, its replay value doesn't quite match with the other contenders.

THE IN-BETWEENS

Although Eilish is authentic in her own right, you can see the draw of inspiration from unique artists before her. Lorde's imprint is all over "you should see me in a crown," a catchy song about ruling the world and making everyone bow down to her with the sound of a knife sharpening at the top, and “listen before i go” is reminiscent of Lana Del Rey’s morose romances. “when the party’s over,” written solely by Billie’s brother, collaborator, and best friend, Finneas O’Connell, is a beautifully quiet moment in the middle of the album, with absolutely gorgeous high notes from Billie. The song is succinct and poignant, noting the inner conflict between wanting a friend to be more than just that and yet feeling the need to keep up boundaries to protect your heart; but when has that done anyone any good?

BEST PROSPECTIVE SINGLE: “my strange addiction”

In the age of Netflix, The Office continues to grow in popularity with younger viewers who missed it on air. Who better to bolster the movement than Verified The Office super fan, Billie Eilish? In “my strange addiction,” Eilish and O’Connell draw inspiration from the classic episode, “Threat Level Midnight,” where Michael Scott (Steve Carrell) has finally finished his movie and is ready to premiere it to the office. In his movie, Scott’s character, Michael Scarn, teaches the entire bar how to do his signature dance, “The Scarn.” “No, Billie, I haven’t done that dance since my wife died!” the song begins, which is a real line from the episode. “my strange addiction” borrows from the track for “The Scarn,” which is simply genius. Everyone is doing “The Scarn,” fictional or nonfictional, even NFL player Trey Quinn, who did the famed routine for his touchdown dance. Not only will “my strange addiction” convert The Office fans to Billie Eilish fans, but just imagine the amount of TikToks there could be of people doing “The Scarn” to this song…think about the meme potential, Billie! *Ed Helms voice* There’s a whole crowd of people out there who need to learn how to do the “my strange addiction.”

                                                                   *****

Billie Eilish, and her debut album, WWAFA,WDWG? is impressive in a multitude of ways: she is raw, candid, silly, wildly intelligent, and most importantly, full of a lot of love, no matter how much she claims she does not want to be. Perhaps most impressive is that the only writers and producers credited on this album are Eilish and O’Connell, ages 18 and 22, respectively, at the time of this review, yet 17 and 21 at the time of its release, which means they were 16 and 20 at the time of writing and production. For two young people to create such an impactful album on such a massive scale on their own is a rarity, and has not been seen since the beginning of Taylor Swift’s career, and look at where she is now. Billie’s music might be different, but her trajectory seems quite similar. At Billboard’s Women in Music ceremony in December of 2019, Swift was honored with Woman of the Decade while Eilish was honored with Woman of the Year. Both artists paid homage to the other in their speeches, harkening back to Swift’s 2014 Woman of the Year speech where she alludes to a future Woman of the Year recipient learning piano and singing in choir; Swift had said back then that we need to take care of her, and Eilish tearfully thanked the room for doing just that. As Swift continues to fight against the system to pave the way for female artists, the clearing is all Billie’s. If Billie continues to maintain ownership of her voice, as I’m sure she will, it looks like the woman of the next decade is a lock. The crown looks great on Billie, and I cannot wait to see where she takes us while we’re all awake. Grade: 4.5/5

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: The first time I listened to WWAFA,WDWG? the only tracks that really captured my attention were “bad guy” and “my strange addiction.” I wanted to like it so bad, but I felt like I was missing something. Maybe that’s because I listened to the album at work and did not take it in properly. But I also felt like she was whispering too much, which made it difficult for me to stay interested. So I did not revisit it. However, over this past year, despite not listening to her music, I started to form a big-sister-type love for Billie, feeling as if I must protect her at all costs (any man over the age of like, 20, reading this: stay the fuck away from her you sickos!!!). I loved how she embraced her individuality and did whatever she wanted. I watched many interviews of her on YouTube (one being the Vanity Fair one, where she talks about how the criticism that she whispers a lot is hurtful yet true- Billie, I’m sorry!!) and found her to be so intelligent. To me, her and Taylor Swift (my number one love) are two sides of the same coin, or two paths to the same destination. What I mean by that is that as a lover of music and as a girl going through a difficult time, sometimes you need positivity to counteract the negative feelings, other times you need to lean into the sadness to release it all; though they both possess a bit of both, Taylor is more of the positive route, Billie more of the sad route. The thing is, you need both options. Billie reminds me of Taylor so much; she writes all of her own music (with her brother as her only co-writer), she has blown up at such a young and vulnerable age (if WWAFA,WDWG? wins AOTY at the Grammys, Billie will be the youngest ever recipient since Taylor won for Fearless at the age of 20), and she is committed to saying and doing what she wants to do the way she wants to do it. After listening to the album a few more times leading up to the Grammys to write this review, I get it. I truly get it. I’m sorry it took so long. And although her super soft vocals are definitely effective, I still want her to project more. The girl has a gorgeous voice; she should use it! But also she doesn’t need my advice, she’s doing fine. Keep whispering, baby girl. I feel very nervous for Billie, because when a woman reaches the top this quickly, everyone gets ready to push her off just as fast, and the fall can be fatal. But I believe in her ability to stand her ground. Please protect Billie at all costs!!!!

[toxoiddiamond]

T H E B A S I C S Given Name: Jinan Rahaim Nicknames: Ji, JiJi Age: 36 Birthday: September 25th Zodiac Sign: Libra Birthplace: Henderson, Nevada Current Location: Amsterdam, The Netherlands Speaks: English, Arabic, Dutch Dominant Hand: Right Education: He graduated from Stanford University with a Master’s Degree in Social Work, and also minored in Psychology. Occupation: Human Services Coordinator, specifically working in housing. He helps homeless, underprivileged and indigent people/families get into cheap or free housing, whether temporary or permanent. Vehicle: He doesn’t have a car– instead, he has a bike he uses for any trips not within walking distance. He also has a little bike trailer for his daughter, in case he needs to take her anywhere while she’s with him. Worldly Possessions: Things They Own Pet(s): Jinan likes animals a lot and has had pets in the past, but he hasn’t had one since moving to Amsterdam. He does plan on getting another pet at some point, he just hasn’t felt like it’s the right time yet.

A P P E A R A N C E Height: 6’0” Hair: Soft and very curly. It can get a little wild sometimes, but it totally works for him. He occasionally shaves his head in the summer, but usually keeps it longer. Facial Hair: Jinan used to keep his facial hair very trimmed and short, but as he’s gotten older he’s been more inclined to grow his beard out. He does still shave it all off now and again, and trims it if it starts to look scraggly. Eye Colour: Brown Skin Tone: Very pretty, almost golden skin, with some cool undertones. He takes pretty good care of his skin, plus he’s just blessed with a great complexion, so it does have a bit of a healthy glow to it. Clothing: It depends on the situation. If he’s at work or going someplace where he needs to look pulled together, he’ll wear fitted slacks and a tucked-in button-down shirt, possibly with a blazer. If he’s going somewhere more casual, then he prefers wearing oversized sweaters or plain t-shirts and jeans. At home, he’s usually wearing sweats and some sort of comfortable shirt. Distinguishing Marks: In the summertime, Jinan gets some freckles on his face– faint, but noticeable if you get up close enough. Face Claim: Marwan Kenzari

H E A L T H Physical Health: Healthy as a horse. Jinan takes pretty good care of himself for the most part– exercises on a regular basis, eats fairly healthy food most of the time, has no underlying conditions, doesn’t tend to get sick much, etc. Physical Abilities/Limitations: He’s certainly physically fit, so he’s reasonably strong and also has a lot of endurance. He’s pretty decent at most sports, but is especially good at tennis, thanks to his excellent hand-eye coordination. He is also really good at wrapping gifts and making them look super nice– a useless talent, but one that he has received a lot of compliments on. Addictions: None, really? Although Jinan likes to get high pretty much all the time, he is able to go without when he needs to. He cuts way back when he has Billie, only getting high once in a while after she’s gone to bed, and only using edibles when he has her so she doesn’t get a headache from the smoke/the smell. Allergies: Acetaminophen and percocet both cause him to break out in hives and feel sick to his stomach, so he avoids those at all costs. Mental Health: Overall it’s good. He has anxiety, and it can get intense at times, but he figures that’s what weed is for. For the most part, he’s a happy person, and when the anxiety gets to be too much for him, he just gets high and then he feels better. Maybe it’s not the best way to deal with things, but it’s always worked well for him.

H I S T O R Y Summary: Long or Short Job History: His first job was in a small corner store when he was a teenager. He worked there for several years until he left for college. In college, he did a lot of tutoring, both for fellow students and for middle and high school students, and also had a part-time job in the school cafeteria to help reduce his tuition. Once he graduated and moved to Amsterdam, Jinan took a job in a used bookstore while he looked for something more permanent and in his field of study, until he finally found a job as a social worker. After a couple of years as a social worker, he was eventually offered the position he currently has, which he took, of course. Fondest Memories: Trip to Canada Worst Experiences: Trip to Canada??

C O M M U N I C A T I O N Speech Pace/Style: Jinan is a pretty smooth talker, honestly. He hardly ever stumbles on his words, always very confident in what he’s saying and seems to know just how to words things. When needed, he can sound very authoritative, which makes it easy for him to step into any role as a leader. He can also be quite charming when he wants to be. Accent: Basically an American accent, though slightly influenced by the fact that he grew up mostly speaking Arabic. When he speaks Dutch, his accent is pretty good, though it’s obvious he isn’t a native speaker. Favorite Phrases or Words: Like ‘Jiminy Christmas!’ Usual Curse Words: Jinan doesn’t swear a ton, but he isn’t shy about curse words. He usually goes with “fuck” or some variation of that.

P E R S O N A L I T Y, M I N D S E T, A N D B E L I E F S Personality Type: ENFP-A Sense of Humor: Funny or Lame Habits: Nail Bitter or Something Quirks: Something Fears/Phobias: Something Strengths: Something Flaws: Something Hopes/Desires: Something Wildest Fantasy: Something Self-Esteem: Something Religion: Jinan grew up Muslim, though his parents were never very strict about it and took more of a casual approach to the religion. Nowadays, Jinan doesn’t practice any kind of religion and doesn’t believe in god.

R A N D O M Sleeping Position: When he sleeps alone, he’s usually sprawled out on his back. If he’s sleeping next to someone else, Jinan really likes being the big spoon~ Boxers or Briefs?: Boxer-briefs Day or Night?: Depends on the situation. If he has Billie, he likes daytime, because he gets to spend time with her. If he doesn’t have her, he prefers night because he can get together with friends, go to parties, or just chill at home and get high. Top or Bottom?: Either. Partying or Relaxing?: As much as Jinan likes a good party, relaxing is really more his speed.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S Closest Friend: Something Relationship History: Jinan has had several relationships. One in high school which got fairly serious, but ended abruptly (his choice) when they both left for college. A relationship in college that lasted almost three years, and also ended abruptly when Jinan proposed and was rejected. A friends-with-benefits situation with Trinity, which resulted in them having Billie. A year-long relationship with a man who ended up cheating on him. A short-lived relationship that seemed to be going well until suddenly they broke things off with Jinan. And, finally, there’s whatever the hell is going on with Zeke. Jinan has always considered Zeke to be “the one that got away,” if he’s honest. Sexual Partners: Like, a lot. Jinan is no stranger to casual sex, FWB situations, flings, etc. Thoughts About Sex: Jinan really enjoys sex and doesn’t really have any hangups about it. He considers himself to be pansexual and enjoys sex with people of all genders, and doesn’t think sex needs to be limited to the confines of any sort of relationship. Of course, he’s more than willing to be in the confines of a monogamous relationship, and is a very faithful partner who would never cheat. But when he’s not in a relationship, one night stands are not out of the question for him– if it feels right in the moment, then he’ll go for it.

P A R E N T S Name(s): Mom and Dad Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship With His Children: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

S I B L I N G (S) Name(s): First Last Age(s): Ages Social Standing: Blue collar, white collar, whatever Occupation(s): What they do Religion: What do they believe Quality of Relationship with Character: Is good or bad? Living/Deceased: Maybe they dead

C H I L D Name(s): Wilhelmina “Billie” Rahaim-Clark Age(s): Six Social Standing: She’s a good kid, so I would say her social standing is good. She goes to a good school, has a lot of friends, likes to talk to people and help people, so she takes after both of her parents in that way. Occupation(s): Soon-to-be first grader, and she is very excited about that. Religion: Billie doesn’t know much about religion. She’s been raised without any sort of religion, so she only knows bits and pieces about different faiths. Quality of Relationship with Character: Billie absolutely loves her dad, and they are very close. Jinan always has her during the summer, plus they see each other often for day trips, regular lunches and dinners (at least once a week), and random times when Trinity has to go out of town and Jinan takes care of Billie. She knows that if she ever wants or needs Jinan, he will be there for her in a heartbeat. Living/Deceased: Very much alive.

D A I L Y L I F E Living Arrangements: Where they live

[actuallyrandomperson]

My thoughts on the Sanders Sides Spotify playlists- Patton Edition!

Note: this is Purely me saying whether or not I like the songs, not theorising about any deeper meanings. I’ve done them all, so just click on the names to see my reactions to the others: Virgil, Roman, Logan, Janus

Impressions from looking through the playlist: I think I recognise more of these titles upfront (but not necessarily bands), which isn’t that surprising given that it’s Patton, so I was expecting there’d be some more overlap with my/my mums music taste than there would be with Virgil’s. We shall see if that holds up.

1: ‘Campfire Song Song’, by (from??) Spongebob Squarepants. I knew this one (unsurprisingly) and it was Also on my list of ‘songs I expect to hear in their playlists’ after rewatching the q&a. I’m pretty sure ‘I Am the Walrus’ isn’t on here which is sad because that joke was iconic, but also completely valid. This song did not make it onto my 32 hour playlist, as spongebob does not have enough Nostalgia™ for me that I could put up with listening to it on even just a semi regular basis.

2: ‘Turnaround’, by Hans Zimmer, Camille. This was a bop! It’s on my 32 hour playlist now, and gave me happy vibes as expected from a Patton themed playlist. Made me sway/chair dance while I was listening so that was fun. I feel like it’s gonna be stuck in my head at some stage in the future. Only reason it’s not in the ten hour playlist is because it’s from a movie, but this might end up being one of my Exceptions to that rule for the playlist. We shall have to see.

3: ‘I Got a Name- Stereo Version’, Jim Croce. I liked this, but only in a ‘I wouldn’t skip it’ way not in a ‘Imma add it to the 32 hour playlist’ way. I didn’t vibe with the singing style enough. Still fairly boppy tho.

4: ‘Oranges’, by Lawrence. I haven’t heard this song in ages, and I kinda like it! It made it onto the 32 hour playlist, but I wouldn’t go out of my way to specifically play it again.

5: ‘I Don’t Wanna Pray’, by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros. This gave me very old timey-feels, and felt very Patton, but I didn’t love it. Probably wouldn’t skip it if it came up in a future playlist, it just wasn’t the style of music I tend to enjoy. Had a good beat though, I could imagine doing tap dance to it!

6: ‘New Soul’, by Yael Naim. This song made me wanna whistle/hum along to the lalas, and I’m not quite sure what that means in terms of level of enjoyment, but vibed with it! It’s on the 32 hour playlist now.

7: ‘Better Together’, by Jack Johnson. I wasn’t sure I’d like this when it first started, but the singing drew me in and I added it to the 32 hour playlist. I didn’t love it enough for the ten hour one though, but given my initial thoughts it being on the 32 hour one is a Surprising Comeback

8: ‘Vienna’, by Billy Joel. I couldn’t tell u when I last listened to a Billy Joel song (actually thats a lie, it was in a twitch sings stream) but, well. It’s Billy Joel. I was always gonna be reminded I like this song enough to add it to the 32 hour playlist.

9: ‘It’s You I Like’, by Ellie Schmidly. This song??? Made me s o f t. It’s in the 32 hour playlist. I’ll probably listen to it if I get insecure at any point in the future. I’ll also send it to my best friend if she gets insecure at any point in the future. It’s that soft.

10: ‘Little Shadow’, by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Those of you who have read my reaction to Virgil’s playlist will remember that I really liked the acoustic version of soft shock, and in fact went to yeah yeah yeahs album to find the original only to realise my sister used to listen to them. At that point I skipped through a bunch of their songs to see if I thought I liked them from the snippets I heard. This is one that I was mostly eh on initially, b u t after listening to the entire song I like it more! Not anywhere near as much as I liked soft shock though, so it’s only on the 32 hour playlist, and I probably won’t specifically seek it out in the future.

11: ‘Sad’, by Alexander 23. The title of this one made me wanna hug Patton (and the lyrics even more when I realised what it was about), but it fit really well into my music taste by being a Sad Bop™. I really like Sad Bops™. My favourite singer (MIKA) sings a lot of Sad Bops™. This also hit close to home, lyric wise, which is why it’s not on the shorter playlist despite my love of Sad Bops™

12: ‘Oh Heart’, by Tank and The Bangas. I love the artists name, and when it started I immediately was Intrigued. I added it to my 32 hour playlist, but deemed it to be Too Unusual to fit the 10 hour playlist. Otherwise I’d be considering putting it on there, but I didn’t love it enough for it to be an exception.

13: ‘The Flame’, by Andrew Huang. I’ve actually watched a few of Andrews youtube vids, and I’m pretty sure I’m subbed to him, so my enjoyment of this song was not a massive shock. I actually decided,,,, I liked it enough to add it to the 10 hour playlist!! I know!! A song that I really liked that actually fit my additional criteria for that one!! I’d make a third playlist of ‘songs I really like that don’t fit that criteria’ but it’d be almost all of the 32 hour playlist so it’s not worth the effort sjfjdk. There’s a reason that criteria exists.

14: ‘Landslide’, by Fleetwood Mac. This is another I haven’t heard in ages, but wasn’t that surprised I enjoyed enough for it to make it onto the 32 hour playlist.

15: ‘Float On’, by Ben Lee. I didn’t mind this, and immediately realising he was Aussie was cool and also reassured me that I can recognise my own accent (as sometimes I Doubt or worry that they’re actually kiwi), but I didn’t love it. Whether or not I skip it in the future will be entirely determined by what mood I’m in

16: ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’, by The Beatles. Let’s be real. Who doesn’t love The Beatles. They’re The Beatles. This immediately got added to the 32 hour playlist. It’s also very fitting for Patton, even if I’m still slightly disappointed there’s no ‘I Am the Walrus’.

17: ‘What Makes The World’, by The New Respects. I really liked this!! I actually added it to the ten hour playlist as well!!! I know!!! It’s almost like Pattons music taste is slightly more ‘conventional’ and also similar to mine than Virgil’s and therefore fits my ‘normal people music’ criteria as well as my ‘must really like’ one!!

18: ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow_What A Wonderful World’, by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. I liked this, but not as much as the originals. It still made it to the 32 hour playlist though!!! I’d add the originals as well but I don’t like the songs enough to be bothered right now. I like how he did the mixing of the songs though, I didn’t even fully realise it was happening at first! Also I really hope I didn’t misspell his last name.

19: ‘So Long’, by Zooey Deschanel, M Ward. I was very glad to see Winnie the Pooh music on here as Patton did say it was his favourite Disney film, and also Nostalgia™. It made its way onto my 32 hour playlist but I wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to it unless I wanna indulge in said Nostalgia™ for a while.

Final thoughts: Surprisingly, despite my initial impressions, I think I actually knew less of this playlist going in than Virgil’s, if only because I recognised less of the bands and didn’t have any ‘Surprise, this song is one u heard a lot as a tiny child’ moments. I think I liked it overall more than Virgil’s, but the specific songs I liked I liked less than my favourites from Virgils. Favourite song would be Turnaround, (which I eventually decided was good enough to go against my Rules™, as I did with Be Calm from Virgils playlist), followed by What Makes The World, then either Oh Heart or The Flame. 15/19 got added to the 32 hour playlist and 3 to the 10 hour one!

Note: I just realised that one of the songs, ‘Golden Slumbers’ by Ben Folds, isn’t available for me, probably because of my region, which is why it’s missing from this list in my reactions. I had found it odd that there were only 19 songs, but I think my computer automatically hides songs I can’t play unlike my phone. I found it on YouTube and I do like it, but probably wouldn’t have added it to my 32 hour playlist if I’d had the chance. I just wouldn’t skip it in the future

@thatsthat24

[brianamorganbooks]

In case you missed it, chapter one is here!

My sleep suffers that night. Charlie doesn’t come back to the room. When I wake up around nine-thirty the next morning, she’s still gone. At first, I’m not sure what’s woken me up—until my phone chirps again from my nightstand. It’s no surprise that even centuries-old boarding schools have text-alert systems now.

Good morning, ladies! Please join me to usher in a successful new school year. Meet in the auditorium at the top of the hour—don’t be tardy.

Sincerely, Headmistress King

I set my phone to silent, throw on some clothes, check my hair in the mirror, and head out of the dorm. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’d rather die than pore over the giant paper map my parents left for me. Nothing says outsider like a junior with a map.

Thankfully, I fall in line with a group on their way out of Meyer. From snatches of their conversation, I gather that they’re headed to the auditorium too. They’re far too absorbed in their chitchat to even notice the new girl with them. As we head down, we pick up a couple more girls, including Billie from the bathroom. She’s talking to a tall blonde girl I haven’t met yet.

“Um, hi,” I say.

“Hello,” she responds. “I’m sorry, what’s your name? Some kind of flower?”

“Rose. Nice to see you again.”

“Likewise.” Her voice is flat. She turns to the blonde to continue their conversation, but the blonde is now staring at me.

“Hi, I’m June. You must be new.”

She’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, and I’m not sure she knows it. Her flawless skin glows in the sun, gold flecks dance in her brown eyes, and her eyelashes cast shadows on her high cheekbones. She’s not wearing any makeup though, and her clothes are athletic wear that might be a size too big. Her only accessory is a sunflower ring. I look down at her sneakers. They’ve seen better days.

Shit, she’s still staring, and I haven’t answered.

“Rose,” I say. “My name is Rose.”

“Rose!” June exclaims. “Beautiful flowers. Hard to take care of. Who are you rooming with?”

“I’m Charlie’s roommate.”

June’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That must be… exciting.”

“To say the least.” Billie frowns. “Was she with you last night? We had a hard time finding her.”

It’s my turn to frown. “I just… I thought she was out with her friends.” June and Billie exchange a look.

June changes the subject. “Welcome to Livingston! We’re thrilled to have you.”

“Beyond chuffed,” Billie deadpans.

Jesus. Well, at least June’s trying. I’ve been nothing but cordial to Billie, so I’m not sure what kind of stick is up her ass. Whatever.

Since June seems open to conversation, I press my luck a little.

“Hey, uh, June,” I start. “I know we just met, but can I ask you something?”

She holds the door for me as we step outside. “Yeah, of course you can.”

Billie’s expression darkens, but she doesn’t butt in.

I think back to Charlie’s reaction in our room, the way she froze as she processed what I was saying. How fast she changed the subject.

“Charlie’s last roommate,” I say, “was she—uh, what happened?”

June’s face goes white. “Her sister? Eleanor?”

“We don’t talk about her sister,” Billie says.

I bite my lip. Of course they don’t. That would have been too easy. I guess I’ll have to bide my time.

“You shouldn’t mention Nell,” Billie says.

“Who?” I ask.

“Charlie’s sister,” she says. “Don’t bring her up in front of Charlie.”

“Especially if you’re roommates,” June says.

Shit, okay. Message received. I’ll have to be more careful what I say to Charlie and these girls. I keep getting shot down. Still, at least now I know that Charlie lived with her sister, Eleanor, or Nell for short, before… whatever happened.

The auditorium sits in the space between the dorms and the Arts and Sciences building. As we walk past the imposing brick facade on concrete paths shaded by trees, I can’t help feeling intimidated. Damp leaves stick to my boots—still green, but not for long. Connecticut gets cold, as my goosebumps remind me.

We pass more groups of students, but June and Billie don’t greet them. The other students’ eyes linger on me, struggling to recognize me, before moving on. At least I’m not the only new student on campus, thanks to the freshmen. I won’t stick out as badly.

I want to shrink down and hide among the blades of grass or wrap myself up in June’s golden hair until no one else here can see me.

Thankfully, there’s no sign of Charlie. I don’t know whether I’m ready to face her again, not when I’m so self-conscious and uncertain of myself.

At the top of the marble steps leading to the open doors, two girls hang around smoking. I catch a flash of red hair and try to keep moving, but to my horror, June grabs my arm and pulls me over to Charlie’s friend, a dark-haired Latina I haven’t met. Her winged eyeliner is as crisp as her black bob, and the stare she fixes on me cools my blood.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Charlie says to June. She doesn’t look at me. A tiny green bandage covers the cut on her face.

June lets go of my hand and kisses the dark-haired girl on the mouth. The other girl’s lipstick transfers to June, tinting her lips red. She doesn’t seem to care. When she pulls away, she gestures to me. “Ronnie, this is Rose. Isn’t she pretty?”

Ronnie quirks an eyebrow at me. “Must be Charlie’s roommate.”

Was Charlie talking shit about me already?

Before I can fire off any retort, Charlie throws her cigarette down and stomps it out. She flips her hair over one shoulder. “Come on, let’s find seats.”

She’s not talking to me.

Billie cocks her head and studies me as the group of girls pass, leaving me to catch up. They might not want me to follow, but they’re the only ones I know. While June seems eager to include me, no one else does.

The girls file into a row of seats toward the back. I start to sit beside June, but then everyone is settled, and there are no seats left. June shoots me an apologetic glance. I swear Charlie smirks.

“Might have luck closer up,” Billie offers, only somewhat helpful.

Reluctantly, I trudge up the aisle until I find an empty seat on the end, about halfway up. My face is on fire, and I swear I feel everyone talking about me, trying to figure out what group I belong to. I’m the only one not caught up in conversation with friends.

Luckily, I don’t have to sit in awkward silence for long. A willowy woman with flowing blonde hair and perfect posture strides onto the stage with a book in her arms. She’s wearing a long black dress with a shawl that I mistake as a cape at first, the way it billows out behind her and makes it look like she’s gliding. Her heels click as she settles into place behind the podium. She adjusts the microphone and looks out over the crowd. I can’t see her eyes well, but I feel like she could look right through me if she wanted. I think she’s in her early twenties.

“Who’s that?” I whisper to the Asian girl beside me.

“Headmistress King,” she says.

I never expected the headmistress to be so close to my age.

“Good morning,” King booms into the microphone. It screeches with feedback, but she ignores it. A few people titter. “Good morning, ladies.”

Her voice is nothing like I expected. It’s authoritative, but not intimidating. She speaks in a singsong, but her face is all business.

A halfhearted chorus of “good morning, headmistress” echoes around the room. I stay silent, mostly because I have no clue what’s going on.

“A new academic year is upon us,” King intones. “That means a fresh start. Make the most of it, I urge you. Choose wisely what’s best for your future and remember that all actions—no matter how small—can have unintended consequences. And sometimes, those consequences can turn tragic.”

She pauses for a minute, for effect I think, until I hear murmurings and whispers all around me. Some girls bow their heads. The black girl on the other side of me closes her eyes.

“Eleanor Masters,” King continues, “was a light in the lives of the people who knew her throughout her eighteen years on this earth. Though that light may have dimmed, it will never go out.”

Charlie’s sister died. Shit. That’s why my room was open.

Another silence falls over the auditorium. I’ve never felt more excluded. I turn to look toward the back of the room, where Charlie and her friends are sitting, but I’m too short to see them.

Up at the podium, King clears her throat. “The administration would like to remind you all that if you’re struggling mentally or emotionally, please seek out campus resources. In addition to our regular counseling staff, we will also have some grief counselors with us for this quarter. And… you may come to me, personally, if you’re uncomfortable speaking with a counselor.”

She pauses again and shuffles her papers. “Take today to prepare for the year. Study well, engage with your classmates, and put your best foot forward. Remember, Livingston girls—”

“Shape the rest of the world,” the students finish in unison. Apparently, I was wrong about not feeling more left out.

A minute or two of chatter ensues while King collects her things. Another woman comes up to the microphone and launches into a speech about time management. I fight to keep my eyes open as another boring speaker follows, and then King returns to the microphone to send us off, thank God.

“That’s all for now, ladies. You are dismissed.”

Everyone stands, and I stand too. But as my row groups up in the aisle, something at the stage’s edge catches my attention. King has descended the staircase and is now absorbed in conversation with a tall, handsome man with sleek, dark hair and bright blue eyes—so bright that I can see them even from this distance. How did I miss his entrance?

King clutches her book to her chest. The man reaches for it and she steps back, shaking her head. They look up and catch me staring.

I blush, avert my gaze, and follow the other students out of the auditorium. A whiff of cigarette smoke smacks my face as soon as I’m outside. Charlie, June, Billie, and Ronnie are grouped up on the steps. Charlie smokes a cigarette and leans against a column. Ronnie lazily waves ribbons of smoke out of her face.

“‘You may come to me, personally’? Maybe she means that, but none of the other teachers want to talk to us.” Ronnie shakes her head. “They only care when it’s a teacher.”

“Last year,” Billie says. “They should have brought in counselors right after it happened.”

“Bureaucratic bullshit,” Charlie declares. “I’m not surprised, though. What did you expect?”

“She had to say that for the investors.” June twists the ring on her finger. “You know that. If she could, she’d–”

“My father is on the goddamn board of trustees. He’s been giving this school money for years. If they really gave a shit, they would have given me time off. Screw what the investors thought.”

“They didn’t give you any time off?” I ask.

Charlie cuts her eyes at me. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

“Please, Charlie,” June butts in.

Charlie makes a face, but she leaves June alone. She flicks ash in my direction. “What happened is none of your business.”

“Where were you last night?” I ask.

The look she shoots at me is nothing short of scathing. “Not your business, either.”

Right away, I want to crawl under the dirt. Shit, why does she hate me when she doesn’t even know me? Maybe she’s right, maybe it really isn’t any of my business. Maybe I should go with another approach.

“I like your purse,” I say.

She looks at it. “Yeah. Oh, by the way, did you find a little vial in our room?” My heart climbs into my throat. “I uh, it… shattered.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes are emerald fire. “How did that happen?”

“It fell out of your purse. I dropped it.”

“Well, which one is it?”

“I, uh, um.” They all stare at me. I’m going to puke. “It fell out of your purse. I picked it up and”—and it did some spooky shit—“and I dropped it.”

“And it shattered?” Charlie asks.

I break eye contact with her, not even chancing a glance at the others.

“You should leave us alone,” she says. “I’d hate for you to break something else.”

I want to disappear. Not for the first time, I wish I were back home, where I’d be spending time with family, or working on homework. I sure as shit wouldn’t be fumbling my way through a conversation with strangers who hate me for no reason.

Maybe I’ll go back to the dorms, try to do something productive. Write a new song, maybe play my guitar–something that will help keep my mind off how I’m feeling.

I drop my head to my chest and mumble an apology. I don’t care if Charlie hears it.

Charlie’s laugh and the smell of smoke seem to follow me as I trace the path through the trees back to the dorms. My chest is tight. My eyes burn.

More than anything, I want to break down and cry. I sit on a bench to the side of the walkway and bury my face in my hands. Stupid Charlie. Stupid girls who don’t want anything to do with me.

Stupid me too, for fucking up so bad I got shipped off in the first place.

“You’re an idiot.”

The voice is deep. My head snaps up.

At the edge of the forest, two figures lurk, talking. The man from the auditorium speaks with a boy who looks to be around my age. Though they murmur in hushed tones, the wind carries their words to me.

“You were supposed to ask the Masters girl to bring it to me,” the older man hisses. “I thought that was the plan.”

“Something came up,” the boy says.

“Your girlfriend didn’t cooperate?”

“I didn’t want to—”

“Earth and elementals, do you think I give a damn? If I spent any time thinking about what you wanted, son, nothing in this world would ever get done.”

The boy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Why don’t you ask King for it?”

“You don’t think I’ve tried?” The older man scoffs. “I all but threatened her over it today. If you had been there, you might have–”

The bench creaks as I shift my weight to get up. Shit.

His eyes flicker toward me. I freeze as his gaze travels over my face.

He scowls. “Not here. Let’s head back.”

The boy ducks his head. Together, the two of them head into the forest, disappearing in the trees.

I lean forward, bracing my palms against my thighs. What the hell was that? What were they talking about?

Whatever I heard, it didn’t sound good. Combined with the weird interaction between that man and King, something seems way off here. If I had one person here I thought I could trust, maybe I’d tell them about it.

Still, what can I say? I don’t know what I saw. I don’t know what I heard, what they talked about. I could go to King, but I don’t know her, and the thought of talking to her alone makes my stomach flip.

For now, I’ll keep what I saw to myself. What’s the worst that could happen?

tag list (let me know if you’d like to be added/removed): @lady-redshield-writes @smokescreens-n-otherillusions @cogwrites @nicholewrites @fireflys-locket

[sign-from-god-complex]

A Gift From Me To You - Chapter 1

Summary: It was nothing really. Just a tiny little doodle on his inner wrist—a flower, something resembling a large daisy, but not quite. It wasn’t anything to get worked up over. Except, of course, for the most important fact: Virgil didn’t draw it.

Some people didn't ever get a soulmark, and that was fine. The four of them had, more or less successfully, resigned themselves to living their lives without a soulmate; that was just the way it was and there was nothing they could do about it. Of course, it could never be that simple.

Pairing: LAMP/CALM

Warnings: Brief suicide mention (let me know if there’s anything else I should warn for!)

AO3 link

It was nothing really. Just a tiny little doodle on his inner wrist—a flower, something resembling a large daisy, but not quite. It wasn’t anything to get worked up over. Except, of course, for the most important fact: Virgil didn’t draw it.

Virgil knew about soulmates. Most of the population were lucky enough to be linked to a certain person that was more suited to them than anyone else. The link was expressed through a drawing on their wrist which somehow related to their relationship, called a soulmark. The mark could be anything from music notes, to a shared favourite food, to a brand logo, and it usually showed up when you were around 5 or so years of age, but sometimes it was as late as 10. The link wasn’t intrinsically romantic; a person’s soulmate didn’t have to be their lover and just as commonly ended up being a lifelong best friend instead.

People had theorised for millennia over the origin of soulmarks, but Virgil hadn’t listened or cared. Because when he said, “Most of the population”, he meant the part of the population he wasn’t included in. Virgil didn’t have a soulmate.

Or so he thought.

Virgil frantically searched through his day for some reasoning behind the ink on his skin. Did Remy doodle on him while he wasn’t paying attention in class? Did he press his wrist up against someone else’s drawing that hadn’t dried fully? Did he do it in his sleep?  

He was fully aware he was being ridiculous, but when something you’ve believed for your entire life—practically built your life around—turns out to not be true, it’s kind of hard to stay calm. It’s like finding out you’re adopted or finding out Pluto isn’t a planet. It was entirely unprecedented and not entirely unwelcome. So, in the midst of his panic, he called his best friend Remy.

The phone rang a few times before he heard a voice on the other end.

“Wassup?”

Remy sounded slightly groggy, and then Virgil remembered it was 2 am and he’d been just about to go to bed before he noticed the mark. Virgil felt a stab of guilt go through him for waking Remy up from the very little sleep they managed to get. He was being silly, this could have easily waited until the morning, he shouldn’t bother them wi-

“Virge, it’s fine, gurl,” Remy said, interrupting Virgil’s spiralling thoughts, “I can nap in class if I really need the sleep. We both know I don’t understand the lesson either way.”

Remy always seemed to know exactly what Virgil was thinking and managed to cut him off at the pass before he panicked too much. It was one of the reasons they were such good friends, considering how different they were.

Remy was a massive extrovert. They lived for parties and hangouts and though Virgil remained their best friend, it was rare to see Remy without someone else around. Virgil, on the other hand, hated meeting people and kept to himself as best he could. Remy was pretty much his only friend—although he had acquaintances that he liked, he didn’t feel as comfortable around them as he did around Remy. No matter how annoying they were sometimes.

Honestly, if Virgil hadn’t known Remy already had a soulmate, he would have claimed they were the source of Virgil’s mark.

Virgil cleared his throat, “Rem, you didn’t, like, doodle on me in class or anything, did you?”

His voice shook a little due to all the emotions that were rushing through him right now. Virgil could hear Remy’s confusion through the phone.

“No? What’s going on, Virge? You’re worrying me.”

“Cause, I, uh-”

Preparing to tell Remy about his mark, he glanced down at his wrist briefly and his breath caught in his throat.

His soulmark had changed.

What was once the outline of a simple flower had become a small bouquet. On his wrist were about half a dozen daisy-like flowers, all in shades of blue, purple and red, and tied up neatly in a golden bow. It was gorgeous, bright and shining and more than he deserved.

He heard Remy calling his name through the haze that had descended upon him.

“Virgil, I swear to god, do not make me come over there and kick your-”

“Sorry, Remy,” Virgil replied, “I just… I think I have a soulmark.”

There was a good 5 seconds of silence before Remy spoke up again.

“What?”

They sounded completely baffled, like this was the very last thing they had been expecting Virgil to say, which was completely justified. People didn’t just get soulmarks. Virgil was 17, the time for him to develop a soulmark had long since passed. It was entirely unheard of…

And yet.

“Are you… are you sure, Virge? Like, it couldn’t just be a prank or something?”

Remy sounded hesitant to suggest that Virgil’s supposed soulmark could be anything but genuine. Making fun of someone for not having a mark was hugely cruel, but, of course, it happened anyway. Virgil had definitely gone through his fair share of bullying due to his lack of a soulmark, and therefore, his lack of a soulmate. But, unless the person pranking him was entirely incorporeal and able to wipe his skin completely clean and draw something new without him noticing (highly, highly unlikely, but technically not impossible), there’s no way this could be a prank.

“No, it changed, Remy. It, uh, it’s different now than it was when I called you.”

A beat.

“Oh, well that’s…” Remy took a deep breath, “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Clearly, neither of them had any idea what to do in this situation.

“This is a good thing, right?” Remy sounded unsure.

Soulmates were something Virgil had always been kind of cynical about, but mostly that came from the culture surrounding it. It hurt, being left out of something that people seemed so excited about. Soulmates dominated almost every form of media and whenever a character didn’t have a soulmark it was always a weird point of tension. Usually, these characters were robots or aliens or just plain “weird”.

Truly though, Virgil hadn’t longed for a soulmark, he’d longed for a change in the culture. He hadn’t thought of himself as weird or broken, no matter what bullies at school would say. He realised there was a percentage of the population who just didn’t have the same experiences as the rest, but just because they’re small doesn’t mean they’re less important. He’d built his identity around the belief that he didn’t need to have a soulmark to be worthy or deserving of love of any kind. So, getting one… left a lot for him to process.

He chuckled lightly, “I’m not sure? I think so? I… don’t know what I feel right now.”

“That’s… that’s fair.”

There were a few more moments where neither of them said anything, just thinking, before Virgil stirred into motion.

“We can talk about this more at school tomorrow, Rem, yeah? I think it would be best if we both got some sleep.”

A yawn was heard from Remy at the mention of sleep and Virgil’s mouth quirked up at the corners slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sounds good,” they replied and Virgil could hear the sound of rustling blankets as Remy moved further back under the covers, “Goodnight, Virge.”

“Goodnight, Rem.”

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

Roman had noticed his soulmark almost the second it had appeared. He’d spent the evening running lines with some of his friends in the drama club, as they were coming up on their performance of Anything Goes, and Roman had been cast as the male lead.

The auditorium had long since been closed and so the small group had retired to Roman’s house to continue practising. Roman had insisted his parents wouldn’t mind, after all, they weren’t likely to be home anyway.

They’d been running through You’re The Top when Roman had glanced down at his script to clarify a line and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Roman?” Valerie questioned, “It’s your line, dude.”

Roman didn’t reply, his eyes fixated on his wrist where a small doodle of a flower sat. Where did it come from? He was quite sure it hadn’t been there before, he would have noticed it! Wouldn’t he? His world was swirling with so many emotions he almost felt he had to sit down. But first, he turned to Valerie.

“Did you draw this?”

His voice was calm, too calm for the situation. His acting skills were kicking into high gear, assisting him in keeping his emotions under wraps for just a moment longer.

“What? Roman, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Valerie replied.

She didn’t, of course. Roman knew Valerie would never do something so cruel to him. Valerie was the Reno to his Billy, both for the purposes of the musical and also in real life. They were excellent friends and any romantic feelings either of them may have had at one point or another was put into the past long ago, as they both had someone they loved now.

Valerie knew his lack of a soulmark was a touchy subject. Roman was a romantic at heart, that was clear to see within one interaction with him. As soon as he’d learned about the concept of soulmates at 4 years old, Roman had been obsessed with the idea that there was a perfect person out there for him. Out there in the great wide world, there was a person who understood him better than anyone else ever could and they didn’t even know him yet. It was intoxicating, believing that you’re loved at your core from the moment you’re born, waiting for them to show themselves.

So of course, Roman’s 5th birthday went by without a soulmark. And then his 6th, and his 7th and his 8th. By the time his 11th birthday came he thought maybe his soulmark was just a little late, but when he reached his 12th birthday he’d finally given up hope. He’d locked himself away in his room for over a week, sobbing and screaming about how it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair! He deserved to be loved like that! Why wasn’t he good enough?

Roman had moved past the immediate rejection he had felt, but to this day he still felt a pang of sadness every time he watched a romance movie or saw couples in public holding hands and laughing, matching soulmarks on display. He knew he didn’t have to have a soulmark to have love, but… sometimes he forgot.

Roman’s eyes filled with tears as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. He spun around to glare at the other cast members in the room, his face stormy. He thrust his wrist out towards them.

“Did one of you do this?!” he yelled, his voice almost breaking, “This isn’t funny! Did you do this?!”

The rest of the cast shook their heads frantically, looking slightly terrified by Roman’s demeanour. Though he may be a drama queen, none of them had ever seen him quite like this. This wasn’t drama, this was pain.

Roman was… well, he wasn’t sure what he was about to do, but he was about to do something, except he was interrupted. Another cast member, Terrence, pointed to his wrist and said, “Roman…”

Roman pulled his wrist back to look at it again, the little doodle of a flower still ingrained in his mind, except… this wasn’t a little doodle. This wasn’t what he’d seen at all. It had changed.

And the bottom dropped out from under him and he was falling.

He sobbed the same way he had 5 years ago, completely unabashed and totally lost. And amidst all the despair and confusion, there was hope rising in his chest. Hope that he’d let go of so long ago, hope that maybe, there was a perfect person for him, hope that maybe he was loved after all.

And so with Valerie wrapping her arms around Roman’s shaking form…

Roman broke.

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

Patton was woken up by a call from his boyfriend. Quickly wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he scrambled to grab his phone from the nightstand and answer it before it rang through.

“Heya, Ro,” he mumbled, still not quite awake.

A quick glance at his clock revealed it to be 4 in the morning, which was slightly concerning. Although Roman didn’t answer to any kind of sleeping schedule, he didn’t usually call Patton during the night. Pat would often wake up to an array of texts about anything from the cool bird he saw to how much he loved him, but calls were reserved for more immediate problems and never past 11 pm. He hoped everything was alright.

A closer listen indicated things may very well not be alright. Roman’s breathing was kind of unsteady and Patton could hear sniffing like he’d been crying. He immediately shot up straight in his bed, turning on the bedside lamp to wake him up a bit.

“Ro? Love, are you alright? What’s going on? Do you need me to come and get you?”

A laugh was heard from Roman, though it was slightly watery and quiet.

“No, mi corazón, I- I just need you to do me a favour, okay?"

Patton nodded, before realising Roman couldn’t see him.

“Yeah, okay, Ro. What is it?”

“Can you just… just look down at your wrist?”

Patton sighed.

“Ro, we’ve talked about this…”

Patton knew his boyfriend got insecure about their lack of soulmarks. It was something he’d confessed to after Patton had confronted him over dropping his hand when in public. At the time it had hurt; it had made him feel like he was some dirty little secret or that Ro was ashamed of him. After Roman had admitted what was truly going on, though, all Patton wanted to do was swaddle him up in a blanket and kiss him until he realised how much he was loved.

Patton had been raised by four loving parents who didn’t all share a soulmark. Their relationship was complicated, Patton knew, but he also knew that it was wonderful. As far as he was concerned, soulmates were a building block, a foundation. They may give you a place to start, a place to call home when you’re unsure about where to go, but you can build those things for yourself! You can build a foundation and you can build a home, with a family—or a found family—there to stay by your side.

A soulmate may be an important relationship you have, but it shouldn’t be the only important relationship you have, and not having a soulmate just meant having to form more important relationships by yourself. It doesn’t make you any less deserving of love, it just means you have to do the work yourself to find it.

He’d talked to Roman about this quite a few times when he was feeling particularly down about his lack of soulmark, and he’d really seemed like he was moving forward. So this request felt like 3 steps backwards.

“No, Patton, please. Just… do this for me. Please.”

Roman sounded like he was on the edge of breaking apart, so Patton agreed, looking down at his wrists in the lamplight and…

Oh.

His breath left him in one big rush. There, on his wrist, was a beautiful drawing of a bouquet of flowers. A drawing, he surely did not do. He rotated his wrist back and forth, watching mesmerised as the colours shimmered.

“Ro…” Patton whispered, voice breathless, “How did you… ”

“Do you have one too? Patton, I-” his words were coming out shaky now, rushed and teary, “I didn't understand and I thought it was a joke but I just had to know and I-”

Patton pulled the covers back and rushed to stand up, grabbing his keys from off his chest of drawers.

“Roman, where are you?”

He didn’t even bother changing out of his pyjamas, just stuffed his feet into his sneakers and carefully crept down the stairs. He knows that if one of his parents caught him they would still let him go, but they would insist on driving him there and would probably ask for some kind of explanation. An explanation Patton didn’t have.

“I’m at th-the park, near my house,” Roman managed to get out through his increasingly quick breaths, “I just, I had a breakdown in front of everyone and I needed to think and I can’t-”

“You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re fine. Just breathe. I’ll be there in 5, okay?”

After an answering okay from Roman, Patton hung up the call. He quickly scribbled down a note to leave on the kitchen counter just in case one of his parents woke up to find him missing, before he rushed out to the car and started the drive to the park.

With all his worrying over Roman, Patton had barely had time to examine his own feelings on the situation. It was clear Roman had spontaneously gained a soulmark too, and considering the odds that more than two people would mysteriously gain a soulmark in one night, Patton assumed they were matching. Which was… wow. That was amazing.

He loved Roman, he knew that already. It hadn’t mattered to him in the slightest that neither of them had a soulmark, but he knew this was something Ro worried about. Once he got past the mess of this evening, Patton was happy that Roman would be a little bit more sure that Patton truly did love him. It did, of course, raise the question of why and how they’d even gained these soulmarks, but that wasn’t for Patton to worry about. Right now, he just had to focus on driving and getting to his boyfriend.

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

Logan hadn’t noticed the mark until later that day, considering he followed something resembling a sleep schedule.

To Logan, this had begun simply as any other day would. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, got changed and went downstairs to make breakfast. It was all done on autopilot, a morning routine that he’d gone through so many times he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Until he tried to start breakfast.

He placed the bread in the toaster and then searched around for a moment, trying to find his Crofters. His Dad loved to hide the jars so that he could steal them himself. Logan had told him many times that he was the adult who was supplying him with the Crofters and if he wanted some he could just buy more. His Dad responded by saying that things just tasted better when they were stolen, to which Logan would roll his eyes and take the jelly to begin his meal.

After opening a few cupboards, Logan could see his jar on the top shelf, barely hidden behind a box of cereal. Logan was just tall enough to reach it, standing on his tip-toes and stretching out. He almost had it when something caught his eye.

His long-sleeved black button up was beginning to get slightly too small, so as he stretched the sleeves didn’t quite reach the end of his arms. And there, peaking out of the fabric, was something colourful on his wrist. Momentarily forgetting his Crofters, he pulled his sleeve back to get a closer look and stared in shock and awe at what he found. If you had gotten close enough to him, you may have had heard him make a whirring sound, akin to a computer that’s been given input it doesn’t understand.

He had a soulmark. He had… a soulmark. He had- fuck.

This went against everything he’d believed about himself for years.

Logan didn’t do emotions. He was logical, and there was nothing logical about emotions. Emotions were subjective and messy and caused more trouble than they were worth. His friends had often tried to convince him by pointing out all the positive emotions you can experience as well—things like love and joy and comfort and excitement, and sure. Those things weren’t unpleasant to experience, but they didn’t make up for all the negative emotions—the things like sadness and pain and grief and heartache and longing.

Emotions like those were what took his mother away from him before he was barely old enough to understand what it meant. Emotions like those are what forced Logan to have dial 911 to tell them his father wasn’t breathing and he didn’t understand why and he didn’t know what to do and if he loses him he’d lose all he had left.

Emotions were… too much.

No. Soulmates were nothing more than a fantastical idea to promote heartbreak and pain, and Logan didn’t need that.

But it seemed the universe disagreed.

In a barely lucid state, Logan walked over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed out some bandages, wrapping them around his arm. If anyone asked, he could just say he’d strained it from typing too much. Luckily, he was ambidextrous, so writing with his right hand wouldn’t be so difficult. It wouldn’t work forever, but it would work until he found a more permanent solution.

So Logan returned to his breakfast, spreading Crofters on his toast and finishing preparing for the day.

A day like any other.

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

Chapter 2

[weremarkable]

LA Confidential - nice read and pictures 👌

Corduroy jacket, $2,730, and pants, $795, both at Ermenegildo Zegna; rollneck sweater, $185, by Mr P. at mrporter.com

Oh, it was such a sleepy, idyllic town until Armie Hammer came along with those chiseled charms of his. Eighteen months ago, the Italian city of Crema drew occasional visitors for its sweet ravioli and the Gothic 17th-century bell tower in the piazza. But then something positively scandalous happened involving an overripe hollowed-out peach, and Crema was anonymous no more. 😄

If you’ve seen Call Me By Your Name, you’re aware of the indelible moment in which Hammer plays erotic muse to last year’s juiciest moment in film. To sidestep spoilers, let’s just say that Timothée Chalamet, Hammer’s young costar in the coming-of-age drama, discovered a fruit-forward way of quenching his desire for Hammer’s character. Heaps of award nominations (including a Golden Globe nod for Hammer’s performance) and a global invasion of drosophilalike movie tourists followed.

“I went back to Crema after Call Me By Your Name had already come out, and walked into the duomo, which had been so calm and lovely when we filmed,” Hammer, 32, says, shaking his head a little in the courtyard of a Hollywood hotel. At 6 feet, 5 inches with bright blue eyes and a polished smile, the movie star in the conversation is impossible to mistake for someone else. “A few girls were standing together looking at their phones, and one of them looked up at me and just went, ‘Holly f---! There he is!’ And I thought, That’s it. Everything’s different here now.”

Donegal cableknit sweater, $595, paulsmith.com

You could say that about Hammer too. The actor noticed a change at the Oscars last year. The first time he attended, in 2011, to support The Social Network (through the magic of split screens, Hammer played both of the Winklevoss twins, who claimed the Facebook idea was theirs), he felt lost in the blur. “You’re on the red carpet looking around at all the insanity going, ‘What the hell?’” he says. “It was like being in a car accident.” But last year, the experience was one to savor. “I walked into a situation where suddenly I’d done a lot of work with a bunch of different people, and it was all, ‘Hey, how are you?’ ‘Oh, wow, great to see you.’ ‘Isn’t this fantastic?’”

Hammer’s orbit continues to widen. This season, he appears opposite Felicity Jones and Justin Theroux in On the Basis of Sex, a biopic directed by Mimi Leder about the life of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Hammer plays Marty Ginsburg, a husband-of-the-century type who cooked and cleaned, and also argued cases alongside his wife in support of her pioneering legal career. “I talked to a lot of Marty’s law students and family members, and said, ‘Be totally honest—he couldn’t have been as great a guy as we’re making him out to be,’ and they all said, ‘You’re right. He was better.’ What the hell do you do with that as an actor?” Hammer obviously figured it out: The role is getting early Oscars buzz in the best supporting actor category.

Hammer portrays another dedicated family man in Hotel Mumbai, based on the terrorist attacks in 2008 at Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in India. It costars Dev Patel. Hammer’s character has to make a Sophie’s Choice-style decision about whether to protect his wife or the child he’s separated from. The production shot in Adelaide, Australia, shortly after Hammer wrapped on those magical months in the Italian countryside. “I went from riding a bicycle in paradise and drinking wine at lunch to getting chased down the hallway by guys with machine guns,” he says. “At a certain point, you just go, ‘Acting is a really weird job.’”

Replica leather trench, $4,980, by Maison Margiela at Barneys New York; classic T-shirt, $335, at Louis Vuitton; wool trousers, $225, by Mr P. atmrporter.com; L.U.C XPS 1860 timepiece in rose gold, $21,700, by Chopard at Neiman Marcus; Tyler lace-up boots, $318, at Frye.

On the surface, you would think Hammer could have chosen any career—or none at all—and done quite well for himself. It’s not just that he clearly won the DNA lottery; he’s good-looking enough to attract giddy triple-takes even among the blasé hipsters at the hotel. But Hammer is also—brace yourself if you haven’t heard—part of a storied dynasty. His great-grandfather was the Russian-American petroleum baron and philanthropist Armand Hammer, whose name is emblazoned upon buildings and institutions such as the Hammer Museum and Armand Hammer Golf Course in Los Angeles. This is the tycoon who traded caviar and furs with Vladimir Lenin in exchange for American wheat shipments and later bought the company that manufactures Arm & Hammer baking soda, mainly because he got a kick out of the name. Google around and you’ll see images of adorable little Armie—born Armand Douglas Hammer—on Great-grandpa’s private jet.

What’s interesting is how the family legacy shook out. Armie’s parents, Michael Armand Hammer and Dru Ann Mobley, now divorced, relocated the family to the Cayman Islands from Texas and Los Angeles when Armie was 7 and his younger brother, Viktor, was 5. Although the Hammers are mostly of Jewish descent, Armie’s parents identified as Christian evangelicals, and, while in the Caymans, founded Grace Christian Academy, which the Hammer boys attended, and the Christian Communications Association, a not-for-profit Christian radio station. When Armie announced he wanted to pursue a life in show business and left high school to follow his acting dreams, he was effectively disowned for the decision. Ironically, Hammer’s first significant role, at 22, was in a biopic of the young Billy Graham. “When I first got into this, the reaction was basically, ‘Are you out of your mind?’” Hammer says. “But when [my parents] saw how hard I was willing to work and how passionate I was, and that this wasn’t just a fad, they said, ‘OK, we get it.’”

Hammer insists he’s been independent financially since he was 19, and that’s been a prime motivator as he’s shouldered his way through hits and misses (The Lone Ranger and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. were supposed to be his megabudgeted star vehicles; they weren’t.) “I’m so thankful that from a young age, I’ve never had to take anything from anybody. You never get to take money without something attached to it, so I didn’t want those encumbrances. I wanted to live my life without anyone telling me what to do, and that’s meant everything.”

Donegal cableknit sweater, $595, paulsmith.com; crew neck T-shirt, $55, Vince.

Hammer and his wife of eight years, food TV personality Elizabeth Chambers, have a daughter, Harper, 4, and son, Ford, 2, who travel on locations with Hammer when he’s not dadding around L.A. “I do a good portion of the school runs, and I cook breakfast for everybody every morning because it’s not like I have a 9-to-5—and also, I love it,” says Hammer, who collects vintage typewriters and won’t say no to a good cupcake (the couple owns two high-end bakeries in San Antonio, where Chambers grew up, and Dallas).

In between the cooking and baking, Hammer finds time for Hollywood. This year, he appears opposite Dakota Johnson in a horror-thriller by British-Iranian director Babak Anvari. “I play an empty shell of a man who works at a dead-end job at a dive bar in New Orleans, which was surprisingly enjoyable to do,” Hammer says. He’s also starring in a remake of Rebecca, Alfred Hitchcock’s first Hollywood film, with Lily James. The film shoots in London, which, unlike that serene village in Italy from Call Me By Your Name, maybe—just maybe—can handle “the Hammer effect.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MIKE ROSENTHAL; STYLING BY MARK HOLMES; GROOMING BY KC FEE AT THE WALL GROUP; SHOT ON LOCATION AT VILLA CARLOTTA, LOS ANGELES