#my birthday art may be a bit late because i have a horrible case of Brain Explosion again but its okay. iknow ray would understand <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[goldiipond]

EVERYONE SHJUT THEFUCK UP IT HIS BIRTHDAY!!!!¡!!!!!!

^^^ RAY ^^^

[alifeincoffeespoons]

a wolfstar good omens au

because i LOVE the art of @maria-tries​ and have had this headcanon living rent-free in my head ever since i saw this

i. 

Sirius is cool. When he walks, it’s with a swagger. He knows the right way to smirk to make strangers blush. He knows how to make his hair fall perfectly around his shoulders and catch the eye of every passerby. He knows how to wear his leather jacket so it fits him perfectly, no matter what he has on underneath. It comes with being a demon, after all.

(This is not entirely true. Most demons don’t pay attention to the way their hair falls or the perfect way to smirk. Sirius is the only demon who actually cares to learn these things. It’s true that every demon is capable of these things; most just don’t particularly want to, especially when they could be torturing idiotic humans instead.)

This makes him particularly good at temptation. Other things Sirius is good at include inventing devices and structures to lead humans onto the path to damnation (his more recent ones include Twitter and inauthentic poke bowl chains), raising tropical birds, and caring for his motorbike, a 1940 Harley-Davidson. 

Things Sirius is apparently not good at include caring for children, given that he’s lost the fucking Antichrist. 

“What do you mean you’ve lost him?” Remus hisses, and wow, this is the angriest Remus has ever looked, which isn’t very angry at all, to be honest, given that angels aren’t actually capable of being angry. To an outsider, he just looks a bit befuddled. 

“You lost him too!”

“Yes, but you were the one who brought him to that hospital.”

“Satanic convent.”

“Is this really the time to be precise?”

“I mean, a lack of precision was what got us here,” and it looks like angels actually are capable of being angry, since Remus’s current blank stare is absolutely terrifying.

“Are you sure?” Remus paces around the grounds of Malfoy Manor, where the birthday-boy-who-is-apparently-not-the-Antichrist is laughing at the hired magician, a pompous narcissist named Gilderoy Lockhart, who’s just failed to pull a bunny rabbit out of his top hat. Sirius makes a mental note to use Lockhart to tempt more people into rage sometime; if this is how horribly arrogant he is at a child’s birthday party, he can’t wait to see the damage he could do on a date. 

(Over the course of Gilderoy Lockhart’s short existence, he’s managed to seal the damnation of thirty individuals already. He would be a very good demon. Gilderoy Lockhart himself, of course, was hell-bound before he even reached his second year of university, by the force of his unfortunate habit of stealing the research of his fellow students. This, coincidentally, was also how he managed to get expelled from university.)

Multiple people would probably end up with black eyes at the end.

“Well, there’s no hellhound—”

“Don’t say that in front of the humans!”

“Oh, come off it, no one’s listening, everyone’s either getting drunk or throwing food at the magician—”

“Still!”

“There’s no dog here, and Bellatrix was just kind enough to inform me that the hellhound has arrived safely at the Antichrist’s home, so I’m pretty damn sure this is the wrong kid!”

“But how could we have lost him?” Remus looks like he’s going to either scream or cry, and neither is particularly appropriate for this occasion, even if Draco Malfoy’s birthday party is shaping up to be an unmitigated disaster even without the Antichrist Problem, given that the guests have begun throwing around chunks of the birthday cake topped with edible gold. 

(Which would have been a bad idea even if Lockhart wasn’t a hopeless magician, given that no eleven-year-old’s palette is nuanced enough to appreciate the delicacies of edible gold. Alternatively, edible gold is never a good idea, as it is simply capitalism at its worst. The second is more likely.)

“I don’t know, but we have, so we better fucking do something about it,” Sirius says. 

ii.

Doing something about it apparently means getting the hell out of Draco Malfoy’s disastrous eleventh birthday party and hunkering down in Remus’s bookstore to do research. Research means, in this case, Remus muttering furiously as he flips through dozens of prophecy books in hopes of finding something useful and Sirius annoying Remus as Remus mutters furiously. It’s very fun, annoying Remus. His angel isn’t very easily flustered, to be honest, which makes the pay-off even more worth it when he becomes flustered, in Sirius’s opinion. 

(Remus’s cheeks go all red and his freckles become even more prominent. If Sirius was the type of demon who went around calling things adorable, he would call Remus adorable. As Sirius is not that kind of demon, thank you very much, he thinks of Remus, secretly, as delectable. Honestly, the two are fairly interchangeable.)

Over the course of his 6,000-year-plus tenure on Earth, he’s also discovered that there are many things that annoy Remus. These include, and are not limited to:

Flipping through one of his books loudly and sighing whenever possible, making sure to say “boring” in an audible tone;

Eating Remus’s chocolate and then leaving the wrappers everywhere for him to find;

Calling Remus “Moony-Moons” in a sickeningly sweet tone (a nickname acquired after an unfortunate incident wherein some superstitious residents of Edinburgh mistook the angel for a werewolf in the 16th century);

Taking the motorbike around the block near Remus’s bookshop, making sure to rev the engine very loudly every lap; 

Humming “God Save The Queen” off-key, just loudly enough for Remus to hear. It’s doubly annoying, because he tips his chair back to creak on every off-beat.

Right now, he’s in the process of repeating the fifth option for the third time when Remus slams the book shut. For a moment, he thinks Remus is going to whisper-yell at him. 

(Hot.)

Or maybe he’s going to kiss him. 

(Even hotter.)

Instead, Remus simply stands up. 

“Right. I think we need to find a book.”

“Remus, you have almost every book written in the past five centuries and then some in this bookshop.” This is helped by the fact that Remus keeps very odd hours, always opening late in the afternoon and closing early in the morning. This isn’t even to mention the week he takes off every month, without fail, which has helped spread the rumor, again, that Remus is a werewolf. Sirius has not mentioned the existence of this rumor to Remus, because he finds it hilarious. If Remus needed to actually make money, he would be exceptionally poor, given that the last time he sold a book was three weeks ago, and it was a two pound guide book of Paris. 

Remus gives him a look. “Unfortunately, I don’t, actually, though that would be very nice. I’m missing Cassandra Trelawney’s Book of Strange and Mystical Prophecies.”

“Remus, all this prophecy bunk is rubbish. It’s just humans trying to scam dumber humans out of their money.” Sirius would know. He’s very good at creating ways for humans to scam dumber humans out of their money. He invented Juicero, after all. 

“It’s not, actually,” Remus says. “Granted, a lot of the prophetic books are, especially those from the 19th century, but Cassandra Trelawney’s is exceptionally accurate.”

“Aren’t you the one always going on about ineffability? How can any books be written if everything is ineffable anyway?”

Remus sighs. His angel is exceptionally good at sighing. Secretly, Sirius likes to think that they’re a sign of affection. 

(Actually, they are. Remus has a specific sigh for Sirius, which can best be translated as “you’re quite annoying, in all honesty, but for some reason, I’ve grown very attached to you and don’t know how I could bear to live without you at this point.”)

“The Plan may be ineffable, but Cassandra Trelawney was a true seer. This is just a shot in the dark, honestly, but if we could get our hands on it, it might help us find out who the Antichrist actually is.”

“And then what do we do?” Sirius asks. “What, we find this Antichrist, who’s probably been influenced by Downstairs already, if he has the hellhound, and what? We talk to him about how this world is actually very nice, so please don’t end it, please? You really think that’s going to work? This is the literal spawn of Satan, Remus. It’s not just another idiotic eleven-year-old. And what, do you think that prophecy book is just going to hold all the answers? That it’ll give a perfect description of the Antichrist and his exact address, and we’ll just find him?” 

“Well, what else can we do?” And there’s that Remus flush. Delectable, indeed.

“Run away with me,” Sirius decides suddenly. Remus gives him an incredulous look.

“To where?” he scoffs. “Sirius, if we can’t find the Antichrist, all of this will be gone.”

And that hurts, it does, because Sirius loves Earth, loves everything about it. He loves the solidity of the ground under his motorbike, loves the wine (he has taste, sue him), loves London especially, all the cafes where he can watch Remus sip tea and fawn over chocolate pastries. But if they find the Antichrist, and everything goes south anyway, because that’s what will probably happen, in any case—

“What if we find him and it’s gone anyway? Remus, if we fuck this up—and given how solidly we managed to fuck up taking care of the right Antichrist—one of us will probably be dead in the next month.” I can’t lose you, he doesn’t say, because he doesn’t know what he would do if Remus doesn’t feel the same way. “Remus, we can go—we can go to fuck, I don’t know, Alpha Centauri. Or anywhere else. You read all those books about exploring the galaxy, well, we could do that.”

Because Remus is far more principled than Sirius, for a moment, he seems to be gazing into space, and then he just sighs. 

(In that moment, Remus thought about running away with Sirius to some distant galaxy, where they could be something besides an angel and a demon, something unnameable and perfect in that unnameability, and it was all well and good for that moment, but then he thought about all the families that would be torn apart, all of the people who hadn’t done anything wrong at all, really, and would be condemned for simply happening to exist at the wrong time, and he knew he couldn’t.)

“We can’t. We just—we need to find him, and we can go from there. Look, has anything terrible happened yet?”

“It could be,” Sirius says sullenly. “And something terrible is always happening.”

“More terrible than usual, I mean. Earthquakes across the world, volcanic eruptions, Martians destroying London—and don’t give me that look, we’ll know if that happens.”

“Not yet,” Sirius has to admit. 

“Well, there you have it. We can save him.”

“Oh, so because he’s not currently destroying the world, he’s suddenly not the Antichrist anymore?”

“I never said that,” Remus replies mildly. “I’m saying that he’s a child, even if he’s the Antichrist, and he can’t be expected to be a soldier in a war he doesn’t even know he signed up for.”

“You and your fucking logic. Where are we even going to find this book of horrible prophecies?”

“I may have an idea,” Remus says.

(This idea, it must be said, is less of a fully-formed idea and more of an inkling. In short, it is not a very good idea.)

will i ever write more of this? who knows. maybe? i just Love the idea of sirius as crowley and remus as aziraphale so very much. 

(harry’s the antichrist, of course. but a good one!)

[diteach]

2020 in review

I was tagged by @apeironaxiomaton to look back at 2020 and pretty much to try and not hate it so much! Thank you!!

Also I’m stealing the idea of putting everything under a cut, which I have never done in my life (and probably should start doing) bc it makes things neat as heck. Almost none of these are in a particular order.

Top 5 movies I saw this year:

Volevo Nascondermi by Giorgio Diritti - this movie is REALLY good AND I have good memories tied to the protagonist for Reasons I’m gonna cry bye (a shame that I’ve only watched this other excellent movie starring Elio Germano tonight bc it should be on this list)

Emma (2020)

The King’s Speech

Spirited Away or Porco Rosso - I had watched the first before and never the second so I think the fairer choice would be Porco Rosso but I’m not entirely convinced of it

The Wolf of Wall Street - look, I simply have a weak spot for stories that are so absurd they can be nothing but real (see “the other Elio Germano movie”)

Top 5 TV shows I watched this year:

Murdoch Mysteries - it will stay engraved in the first place of EVERY chart in saecula saeculorum and NO nothing can take its place I don’t care

Peaky Blinders

Alias Grace - which I was sure was a movie? I was so shocked to discover it isn’t like was it really six hours long what the

The Queen’s Gambit

Suburra: Blood on Rome - “The series was developed by Daniele Cesarano and Barbara Petronio for Netflix, making it its first Italian-language original television series.” I’ll be honest, some bits were a little bit hmm-inducing. Not the best tv series I’ve ever seen, but it managed to be fun and easy to watch. Suspenseful even!

Top 5 Songs:

So there’s a reason why Spotify said I’m an octogenarian this year and for as much as I complain about it... it’s right... Spotify’s right. And it will only get worse, I’m afraid. All the songs are from the same playlist which was my most listened to (and is the most interesting to share imo). I swear I have listened to other, newer things as well.

Shake That Thing by The Abe Lyman’s California Orchestra

Night Hawk Blues by The Coon-Sander’s Nighthawk Original Orchestra

Where the Sweet Forget-Me-Nots Remember by Merle Johnston and His Ceco Couriers (I’ve loved these flowers since I was a kid it was so nice to find a song with them in the title!!)

Dew Dew Dewey Day by Nat Shilkret

The Panic is On by Mezz Mezzrow And His Swing Band

Top 5 Books I Read This Year:

so this is embarrassing,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I “bought” an insane amount of books and read a grand total of...like...t w o. It was actually like four and some short stories (which I hated and are therefore banished from the good boy list) so I’m gonna list my silly little titles and make my silly little comments about them all. From “””””best””””” to “worst” we have:

The Adventures of a Modest Man by Robert W. Chambers - I literally cannot shut up about this book and, yes, it is the one tied to this illustration, about which I equally cannot shut up about. It’s so horrible that it makes a 360 and comes back as good, but not before hitting you with a cardboard tube for a laugh and subsequently stabbing you in the kidneys just because it can. I think we can confidently state that we are in the “I didn’t say it was good, I said I liked it” realm. I have so many questions about this book. Why was it written? Was it taking itself seriously? Was it commissioned by someone? Why is it so gay but only if you know that the author is a man? Maybe it’s a parody? Was it an experiment made by the author to test his own skill? I know jack about literature, unfortunately, so grain of salt here but it made me feel strong feels. Not that I could identify any of them if you asked, but they’re definitely there.

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot - I’m counting this in bc what is a book if not a patchwork of silly little paragraphs anyway so yes, we have a collection of poems. Not only do I know jack about literature; as a matter of fact, I know jack about poetry as well! All I’m gonna say is: I like cute things, I like cats, the poems were cute AND about cats. I really liked it! I often find myself going back and reading again specific parts just for the delight it is to read them out loud! I also may or may not have named the cats you can adopt in Stardew Valley after some of Eliot’s cats. The movie Cats (2019) did one good thing: making me read this.

How You Can Keep Fit by Rudolph Valentino - Yes, that is correct. A book on fitness written (in English!) by silent movie superstar Rodolfo Valentino. It is less than 100 pages on real, actual exercises that the reader can replicate in the comfort of their own house with little to no equipment. With a sprinkle of old timey manly manner of speaking, a few anecdotes from the author’s childhood in ye merry Italian countryside, a dusting of precious advice against ice-cream, and a dash of genuine intrigue for these newly discovered “vitamins” everyone is talking about. Overall a fascinating read that I treasure dearly! Valentino also wrote a book of poems, which I am absolutely thrilled to read this year.

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway - Hmm.. I have mixed feelings about this one. Whenever the original language of a book is English, I instinctively want to read it in that language. Because I can! And because that way I get to read exactly what the author wrote. If it was another language, I’d get a translation, make peace with the fact that selling my soul to acquire perfect knowledge of all things is morally questionable, and call it a day. Problem: I’m a sucker for old books. And old books I did find indeed. There were three books by Hemingway for sale, very pretty, and for an almost symbolic price too so I bought them. They are Italian translations from the late 50s and my plan was to go through one in Italian, one in English, and after that, decide in which language to read the last one. I believe it was a mistake for me to start with Italian in Hemingway’s case. He’s known for having a very, VERY peculiar style that is integral to how the novels are perceived and I feel like I've robbed myself of literal peace of mind. For as much as I found the story interesting, I could not ignore the voice in the back of my head that kept wondering “was it necessary to render it like this?”. It did make me feel feels and think thoughts, but honestly? It was partially for the wrong reasons imo. It’s one of those books you should read at least once in your life, I guess, so I’m definitely glad I did it! Surprisingly, it captured me more than I expected and trapped me into its little world. I could clearly imagine the scenes in my head, which hadn’t happened in years! I’m really excited to move on to the next two books and finally be able to say if I appreciate his style or not.

Top 5 positive things that happened to me in 2020:

Visited Rome and took a stroll around on my own (sort of) for the first time in my life. I had never seen it at night :) Right after that I celebrated my birthday and got some cute gifts, including sweets that were sent all the way from Australia!!

Managed to buy my mom a gift, which is possibly the only real Accomplishment of 2020.

Took a bizarre trip this summer (I know, guilty) and fell in love with Slovenia

Discovering I like textile arts kinda gave me hope for myself and for the future. I say kinda for I dare not think concretely of anything too positive lest it should be prematurely taken from me. I shan’t elaborate. It is what it is.

Therapy!!!

The last few months of 2020 really hit me hard whereas in the beginning nothing was too bad so it was nice to see the list growing and growing! So many tiny good things happened and it’s worth to cling onto them. I’m tagging @sonicysuchillydog, @nurmilintunen, @alfonzone and anyone else who’d like to participate!! “Tell them I sent you” lol. Guys.............if you don’t feel like going thru your 2020 feel free to ignore bc......I get it............................

[queen-of-bel]

i think someone already asked for paz and kaz?? if not then them, in case someone asked for them, kandori and maki for the hc meme!

MY TWO FAVE DUOS EVER. i’ll do them all bc i could fill out a hundred prompts about them

Persona 1, Persona 2EP, general Metal Gear spoilers incoming

Putting under a read more because it is loooong (sorry in advance)

Kandori

realistic: Oh, Kandori was absolutely the one who alerted Nanjo to his existence in p2ep. I’ve written multiple posts on Kandori’s motivations, but bottom line, Kandori wanted to work against Nyarlathotep’s plans as much as he believed his fate would allow him to. Kandori had infinite strength and should have been the impenetrable stronghold that kept Tatsuzou safe. He is the only boss in the entire game to not have a low health stance, and he resists everything. He’s able to catch Tatsuya’s sword with one hand, as Tatsuya says:

“Kandori tilts his face out of the way, and when my blade grazes his ear, he grabs it with his left hand. All I have to do is pull back, and it’ll cost him his fingers. He gives me a broad, natural smile. However, even when I yank it with all my strength, my sword doesn’t move a centimeter. It’s like it’s caught in a vise.”

Kandori’s revival should not have been found out by anyone (especially since everyone watched him die the first time). But somehow, the word leaked back to Nanjo. It’s not impossible to think that it was Togashi who leaked the information, but there’s a line of Kandori’s that really makes me think Kandori himself was the source.

Once Maya et. al + Tatsuya arrive on the Nichinmaru, Kandori says that “all the players are in place”, implying that he’s the one who brought them all together like this. This was a very meticulously crafted plan, and it only could’ve worked if Nanjo heard of Kandori’s revival, which leads me to believe that it was Kandori, not Togashi, who spread the rumors of his own revival.

while it may not be realistic, it is hilarious: Due to the high levels of contempt he feels for Tatsuzou, I’d love to think that Kandori just fucks with Tatsuzou constantly. He’ll move all the furniture in Tatsuzou’s office just a few inches to the left, or he’ll swap the position of some of the books on his shelf. It’s infuriating to Tatsuzou bc Kandori’s antics are just enough that he knows something is off, but he can never pinpoint exactly what it is. Kandori, meanwhile, insists that nothing is wrong, and convinces Tatsuzou that it’s just his old age getting to him.

heart-crushing and awful: I bet Kandori kept tabs on the P1 crew during his time under Tatsuzou. While he’s said to have an obsession with Tatsuya, there’s no reason to believe that the care he showed for Maki in P1 went away, and he’s grateful to the P1 cast for saving her. I like to think that Kandori found out that Reiji’s going to have a child, and stashed away a large amount of money (bonus points if he embezzled from Tatsuzou) to send to him, especially since Reiji’s girlfriend’s house collapsed. Kandori doesn’t sign his name on it or anything, so the money arrives to Reiji in an unmarked envelope, with only Reiji’s name written on it.

Reiji first thinks that it might have been Nanjo who sent the money (because that envelope is packed, and Nanjo is the only person he knows rich enough to send that much). Nanjo denies this, and after a while, the two of them come to the conclusion that the only other possible person could have been Kandori. Reiji thankfully accepts the money, and this whole incident reinforces in his mind that “Takashi” was the right name to choose for his son.

unrealistic: In order to cope with the boredom and emptiness he felt as SEBEC’s Mikage-Cho branch president, Kandori set up a secret room in SEBEC filled with video game consoles. During the height of his depression, Kandori would just be so engrossed in his games that he would forget he has actual meetings to go to. Cue Takeda apologizing profusely to clients, saying that Kandori’s running a bit late, and Takeda has to practically drag Kandori by the collar out of the little gamer den that he’s created for himself.

Maki

realistic: After her training under Eriko, she realizes that she misses painting and wants to pick it up again. She eventually incorporates that into her profession, becoming an art therapist.

while it may not be realistic, it is hilarious: Maki really wants to be good at baking, but she’s terrible at it. You know, like this:

She knows that she’s created a monstrosity but at least it’s still edible, right? So she brings these to P1 cast reunions. Nanjo is just appalled, and has to excuse himself because he knows he’s just going to be too blunt (prompting Mark to call him a “dickweed” again). Yuka, having no filter, just straight up says how horrible they look, but then she offers to teach Maki how to bake, since she’s pretty damn good at it herself.

heart-crushing and awful: Maki definitely regrets not accompanying Maya to the Nichinmaru. She doesn’t blame Nanjo/Eriko for not being able to save Kandori, but ever since she heard that Kandori was alive again, she’s wanted nothing more than to talk to him again.

She thinks that if she were there at the undersea ruins, maybe she could have convinced him to come along with her. This regret is just going to add to the massive amounts of guilt she feels over the Mikage-Cho incident.

unrealistic: It took ideal Maki a while to perfect her “cringe” negotiation. When she first tried it, she would burst out laughing too much, absolutely ruining it, and angering a lot of demons along the way.

Paz

realistic: Kaz has constantly asked her to come feed treats to Nuke with him. She’s always agreed, because that’s the role she’s supposed to play, but she really hates it at first. Eventually, as she comes to like Kaz more, it becomes the highlight of her day, and she begins to really look forward to it. She finds herself prolonging Nuke’s feeding sessions, just so she can spend more time with Nuke and Kaz.

while it may not be realistic, it is hilarious: So you know how Paz couldn’t stand Kaz at first? She wasn’t exactly subtle about it, so everyone at MSF knew that Paz thought Kaz was an enormous idiot. Cecile was so happy to find someone else who felt that way about Kaz (and she’s always wanted a reason to get closer to Paz), so she goes to Paz to air her grievances about what a pest Monsieur Miller is being. Paz, meanwhile, does not give a single shit. She still thinks Cecile is just a ditz, and now she’s irritated that she has to deal with both Kaz and Cecile’s annoying antics.

heart-crushing and awful: I’ve thought about this for a long time. I really have. But there is nothing, absolutely nothing that can be any more awful than what we got in canon. I have a lot of characters that fall under the “deserved better” category, but Paz takes the top of that list.

Paz is a unique character in Metal Gear in that she was not supposed to have anything to do with war. Other characters’ lives in the series were intertwined with war, whether by choice or by fate. Even characters like Chico or Sunny were born into it, given their parents and upbringing. 

It’s never clear how Zero was able to come in contact with Paz, but I think it was intentional to never specify it. It’s not important to know how Zero found Paz, because fundamentally, Paz is not an important person. She’s nobody special. She was literally just some random orphan living in the US, and Zero went out of his way to drag her into his plans.

To me, Paz’s character parallels the child soldiers in Zanzibar Land. They’re both representative of how ruthless Zero and Big Boss were in their quests to fulfill their interpretations of the Boss’ will. Zero and Big Boss were both willing to employ any tactic possible to reach this end goal, and they didn’t care about the pain and destruction they left in their path.

But I digress...

That being said, I think Paz felt sick when she saw MSF soldiers playing with the mini remote-controlled ZEKE that Huey had built. For her, it was just a reminder of the duty that she had to carry out. She wasn’t allowed to be happy at MSF, and she eventually would have to fight to the death with Snake.

unrealistic: Writing Love Deterrence with Kaz and Zadornov made her want to learn how to play the guitar. In my totally self-indulgent “Zero and Skull Face both get brain aneurysms and drop dead 4 days before Peace Day” AU, Paz approaches Kaz and asks him to give her guitar lessons.

Kaz

realistic: The morning after the monthly birthday party at MSF (you know, where Kaz invited everyone to see the real Kazuhira Miller?), he’s embarrassed as hell. He been so protective of Paz the entire night, and it turned out he was the crudest person at the party. He goes to apologize to Paz, and can barely look her in the eyes as he’s doing so. Paz, meanwhile, can’t stop laughing. Her opinion of Kaz had been softening ever since he visited her when she was sick, but interacting with him during the party had really made her like him. Kaz still feels a bit of shame, but upon seeing Paz genuinely laugh for the first time, he can’t help but feel so publicly embarrassing himself was all worth it.

while it may not be realistic, it is hilarious: MORE 90S FOXHOUND PETTINESS

The first year that both Big Boss and Kaz are at FOXHOUND, Kaz bakes a cake for BB’s birthday. As BB accepts the cake, he wonders if Kaz has forgiven him, but then he looks down at it and sees

And these are the cheapest, shittiest cigarettes that Kaz could make, because you know his petty ass rolled them himself. BB picks up a cigarette and it’s so sloppily rolled that it immediately falls apart and the tobacco spills all over the cake and the floor and BB looks up to Kaz and Kaz is just smiling back like

heart-crushing and awful: Ohoho, I have many thoughts as to Master Miller’s life post-Zanzibar Land and his final moments. Now that Big Boss is finally dead, Kaz’s life loses all meaning. Skull Face, Huey, Big Boss, they’re all dead, and suddenly, the decades of anger he carried with him has nowhere to channel itself to. I think he becomes an empty shell of a man, just sort of running on autopilot.

So when Ocelot breaks into Kaz’s house to kill him, you absolutely know that Ocelot wasn’t discrete about it. There’s no way that Ocelot’s overdramatic cowboy ass didn’t gloat about it, to show that he was able to get the upper hand in the end.

Kaz just doesn’t care.

Kaz’s life is plagued with regrets. While none of it was intentional, his impulsivity and short-sightedness has really screwed over a lot of people and absolutely destroyed so many people’s lives. I think when Ocelot came to kill Kaz (and I’m going to toss in a bit of torture, just because Ocelot’s petty ass remembers Kaz complaining about Ocelot’s getting “too many kicks from his ‘art of interrogation’”), Kaz just resigned and doesn’t even attempt to fight back. He knows that this is a sad and undignified way to die, but he believes that this is karma and he deserves it.

unrealistic: Okay I’ve talked about this a little, but I want to add to it.

Kaz absolutely kept a Burn Book like in Mean Girls.

After MGSV, Big Boss and Ocelot make their way in the book as well. Underneath Ocelot’s picture, Kaz writes “Too gay to function. Also, cowboys are stupid.” BB has got 5 whole pages dedicated to him, but the line that Kaz is most proud of is “Didn't shower for a month... during SUMMER, and to this day still hasn't washed his hair.”

Thank you for asking!

send me a character and i’ll give you some headcanons

[levelstory]

Music Reflection I, The Cringe is Real

The other day, my mother made a comment to me that there really is no sense that can bring back memories quite like your sense of smell. I agreed with her, but commented that sound and music may be tied for that ranking. Smell certainly brings me back to certain moments of my life, in ways I can't always explain to myself. But music brings back memories in a different kind of way. Songs are attached to specific thoughts and actions, to who I was at the time of listening. 

I thought it could be fun to revisit some of these songs from the past and talk about my feelings toward them, then and now. I imagine this will be a series of blogs so you can always look forward to more...

No Strings Attached by NSYNC

One of the most loaded questions you could ask a nine year old girl in the '90s was: do you prefer the Backstreet Boys or NSYNC? I was a hardcore Backstreet Boys listener. I owned all of their albums (except Millenium which was a damn shame) and listened to them rigorously, practicing for dance recitals next to "Quit Playing Games with My Heart" and making up dance moves to "As Long as You Love Me" and "Get Down." When my brother received the Chapter One album for his birthday, our home videos show my face sink into a pit of jealousy that he got the album instead of me. We even had Backstreet Boy action figures from Burger King which I am sure can be found somewhere in our basement to this very day, as well as a poster that had a button that when pressed would play a clip from "Don't Want You Back." 

I had an intense loyalty toward them, for reasons that are very unclear to me as I never outright disliked NSYNC's music. I heard them enough at the skating rink and at birthday parties. For some reason, all I can remember is disliking their look compared to BSB. Both groups were distinct in this regard, and I very much clung to the group I had spent most of my elementary career listening to on repeat.

One of the cool toys in the late '90s, early 2000s was called HitClips, little cartridges that would play 30 second clips of songs from popular artists like Britney Spears, Hanson, and of course BSB and NSYNC. I remember a girl in my fifth grade class bringing her hit clips in and being nice enough to let me borrow them and bring them home. Of course some of them were NSYNC and I remember replaying "Bye Bye Bye" and "It's Gonna Be Me" over and over, aching to listen to the full tracks. Shortly after returning them, I imagine I got my mom to take me to Target (which was my go to music store at the time) and used my allowance money to purchase the NSYNC album, No Strings Attached.

There are so many memories I attach to listening to this album. I had just gotten my very first desk for my bedroom and I remember my boom box sitting at the back of the desk where I would pop in CD's and cassette tapes. This was also around the time my room was painted from plain white to a soft pink. One of my best friends at the time also owned this album. Her father owned a camper that sat in their driveway, and we would sit inside with her stereo and listen to music while we pretended to be camping far away from our suburban reality.

"No Strings Attached," the titular song in which the album was named, was not always a favorite of mine. At first it was the well known tracks that held my interest before I gave the rest of the album a chance. Songs like "Space Cowboy," "Digital Get Down," and "That's When I'll Stop Loving You" were tracks I came to love later, along with "No Strings Attached." The song is one that so easily gets stuck in my head (along with "Just Got Paid"). Once I hear it, I can't unhear it for some hours and I find myself humming it throughout the day. More than anything, this track in particular seems to be the most nostalgic. Whereas songs like "Bye Bye Bye" and "This I Promise You" I have returned to regularly throughout my life, "No Strings Attached" is one that I love all the more because it isn't one I necessarily return to all that often, and in that way it feels rare and distant, and therefore nostalgic.

Listening to this track with the modern ear does not do it any favors. Sure it sounds good, if not a bit chaotic like much of this album, but the lyrics lean toward the "nice guy" narrative which I am so over in 2019. I appreciate it from a distant, but can't say it has aged particularly well. NSYNC sing to this supposed lady that they want to have a relationship with her, with no preconceived expectations, or no strings attached, unlike the guy she is currently with who doesn't pay her any attention or return her calls. It all feels very '90s...and if I am being honest, returning to the '90s is one of the main reasons I return to these tracks. While I can't give it too much credit, I won't deny that it is a banger to listen to and enjoy. No Strings Attached remains one of my favorite albums from the ‘90s.

Why Not? by Hilary Duff

As a teen, I never really got on the Hilary Duff / Lizzie McGuire train. For reasons that are way too dense and difficult to unpack here, I really disliked the live action Disney "sitcoms" as a kid. Many of my friends watched and enjoyed them, while I hated them. So when the Lizzie McGuire movie came out to theaters, it was the last thing I wanted to see. Yet I did end up seeing it...at least, I feel like I saw it in theaters. I don't remember who convinced me to see it or why I gave in to my dislike, but I did see it. I also remember being at a friends house and she wanted to watch the DVD while I adamantly didn't and it caused a bit of a rift between us for a few hours. We got over it of course, and to go into all of that would be another tangent so I shall move ahead.

My friend who loved the show bought the movie soundtrack and we listened to it constantly. I remember sleeping over her house and making up dances, jumping on the bed, and running around like crazy kids with a ton of energy tend to do. "Why Not?" was my favorite song from the Lizzie McGuire soundtrack. I remember I loved Hilary Duff's voice, and was convinced that my own voice was almost identical to hers. I have a distinct memory of sitting at my bedroom window and singing her music to myself, carefully measuring my voice and making sure I sang just like she would.

This song was heavily marketed upon the release of the Lizzie McGuire movie. The music video was on TV all the time. In many ways it fit very well with the film's core themes - why not take chances? Why not do the thing you are most afraid of? If you don't take the chance, you may never have the opportunity to do so again. The lyrics are a mixed bag. One line that I never grow tired of is, "you always dress in yellow, when you want to dress in gold, instead of listening to your heart, you do just what you're told." It is certainly not a lyric that contains much depth and I assure you it isn't the message of the lyrics that have always captured me, but rather how they bounce and flow and how effortlessly Duff approaches them. It is a portion of the song that I always enjoy. 

The bridge, like most pop songs, is tragically boring. I enjoy Duff's humming (is that the word for what she does immediately after the bridge? What would you even call that?) but then the lyrics move toward the point where the song writers must have been on a time crunch saying, "You'll never get to heaven, or even to LA, if you don't believe there's a way." This lyric caught me off guard recently because I never really thought about it before but I just find it funny that the song talks about going to heaven, something that contains so much religious meaning and cultural significance, and then immediately puts going to LA on the same scale. Like, you'll never escape eternal damnation if you don't take chances, but you might also not make it to LA where you could become famous...yes, those are equally important. Sure I knew the song was generic, but my god it just drops into the absurd and pitiful by the bridge. 

Despite this, I still really enjoy the song. It isn't perfect but it speaks to a particular time of my life and I enjoy the memories associated with it. 

I'm With You by Avril Lavigne

Avril Lavigne's album "Let Go" was a big deal when it came out. It has a distinct place in my memory, coming out the year I moved into a new house, went to a new school, and started entering my teenage years. This was a time when burning CD's was still considered legal and so I never actually owned the album. My cousins burned the album on a CD for me, and I made a cover in Microsoft Word compiled of the album name made in Word Art and pixelated images of Lavigne scattered about. At the time, I thought my album cover looked really cool. 

"Let Go" was released around the same time Lizzie McGuire was on the rise, but unlike Hilary Duff and the Disney Channel, Lavigne made us 12 year olds feel like we were listening to adult music. Listening to this album felt hardcore at the time. It was low key grunge music, with themes and ideas far more sanitized than we knew.

I can remember a friend I made at my new school and going to her house where we listened to Avril Lavigne, rocking out to "Sk8ter Boi" and playing air guitar along with "Complicated." But "I'm With You" took on a much darker tone than either of these songs, and used a word that was off limits, "damn." There is a home video we have, which I believed I tried to tape over and remove from existence in case of blackmail, where I filmed myself singing the song and every time Lavigne belts, "It's a damn cold night!", I would fall silent at the "damn" and not say anything at all, for fear of being heard by my parents.

I can't say Lavigne's album has aged all too well. It isn't horrible but it is also nowhere near as good as we believed. Full of angst and "edgy" guitar, it definitely remains a product of its time. What is strange is that Lavigne's album is not one I have felt the need to return to much as I have grown older. The strongest memory with the album is listening to it in the car on my portable CD player on the way to North Carolina in the summer. Apart from that, my memory usually paints in broad strokes and just remembers the album being super popular when I was a sixth grader. All of the girls my age loved it, as did I, and my friends performed "Sk8ter Boi" at a lip sync competition. 

"I'm With You" stands out for its slow pace when compared to all of the other tracks. "Losing Grip" is sharp and industrial sounding, "Complicated" is the soft rock track that fits perfectly on the radio, "Sk8ter Boi" is the song to rock out to, and "My World," my personal favorite as a kid, is a fun guitar jam. But "I'm With You" isn't fun. It really showcases Lavigne's vocal range as well as her vulnerability as a songwriter. It builds up slowly and concludes with a strong crescendo of instrumentation. Okay, that might be overstating things just a tad. But there is something about this song that always gets me and I know that is the nostalgia talking. 

Lucky by Britney Spears

I have something to admit...I never owned a Britney Spears album. How can I call myself a real '90s kid if I didn't own a Britney Spears album? It is embarrassing. There were plenty of her songs I loved, but I guess I got by with her song "Sometimes" being on the compilation record, Now 3, which I listened to quite frequently. 

When "Lucky" was released, I really loved it. It was one of those songs that I loved so desperately that I am surprised I never got around to asking my parents for the album it was on. Luckily, a friend of mine owned said album and brought it over for my 10th birthday party. I imagine we listened to the album a lot that night, but all I can really remember is me dancing to "Lucky" on my screen porch while my friends watched, giggling. In fact, we have video evidence of this and it doesn't embarrass me...well, it embarrasses me a little. The video is somewhat cringy in that I am not a good dancer, but I make up for it with silliness for sure. 

"Lucky" tells the story of a celebrity who isn't happy. It comes off as very Marilynne Monroe; you expect this person to have it all but actually they don't and it makes them very sad. It isn't a very complicated song (though I guess none of the songs I am writing about are complicated). The storytelling is straightforward and easy to grasp. 

It is expected for listeners to wonder if the song is autobiographical and if Britney really was unhappy in her current predicament. Hindsight certainly reveals that this was most likely the case in some regard. Seeing where she is now and where her career has gone doesn't bode well for this song which makes me much more sympathetic toward her as a human being. If this was the case, listening to the track makes you sad. Still, if you can look past the blatant message, it is a track that remains catchy though I don't find I love it as much as an adult. The song just doesn't sound as catchy anymore, and it only makes me feel sad for Spears. 

All for Love by Stevie Brock

This track is easily the most obscure of the bunch. Stevie Brock never acquired the same celebrity as the other artists on this list. However, he did enjoy a few good years of teenie bopper fame and air time on Radio Disney. He was one of the many Aaron Carter wannabes that arrived on the music scene. This isn't to say he didn't have talent. His still immature voice was catchy enough and he was clearly a great performer. But like many child artists, his record was generic and…well, bad. Very bad. 

One huge trend of the '90s and early 2000s was this weird thing where young boys on the verge of becoming teens would sing songs about getting the girl and dating and complex romantic topics that made little sense to a teenager. The result is that the songs are super hetero-normative and a bit creepy. I am sitting in the car, reliving my childhood memories by listening to this song, and I can't help but think, "is it weird that I, a 29 year old woman, am listening to a 13 year old, whose voice still hasn't matured, sing about his 'romantic troubles' with a girl in his class who clearly doesn't want to date him but he wants it so it is okay that he keeps pursuing her?". Yes, it is a little weird. 

What is really weird to me is that I remember this song as if it came out way before it actually did. The album didn't properly release until summer of 2003 and I seem to recall listening the year previous. This could be because when I bought the album I was 12 going on 13 and thus I associate it more with being 12 than a 13 year old middle-schooler. But it would make sense. After all, the whole reason I even heard of Stevie Brock was because when on vacation in 2003 in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, my family ate at the Hard Rock Cafe and on the big screen where they played music videos, Brock's cover of "All for Love" came on the screen. I've always been the type of person who loves music so when I hear a song I enjoy, I have to write it down so that I can listen to it when I would get home. These days we have apps that allow us to listen to songs and tell us what they are called. But back then when music wasn't as readily available and I was a child who didn't really have enough money to buy things at the ready, this act was more of a scavenger hunt than anything else. Would I be able to find this guy's album when I got home? What if it wasn't at Target? What would I do then? 

Fortunately, Brock captured a strong, if not temporary, following and his album was on store shelves. "All for Love" is a fine song, mostly due to it being a cover from another band. As already addressed, the lyrics feel very odd coming from someone so young. He addresses the girl he is singing to as "sugar" which just makes me skin curl. It is creepy that the music industry breeds young boys to sing about these things so early. This was easily my favorite song from the album. My strongest memories of the song, besides first hearing it at the Hard Rock Cafe, are listening to it and the entire album at my friends house. We had a fun tradition of bringing her boombox outside and dancing around the front lawn. I remember her birthday party and us tween girls dancing through the summer air, our bare feet wet from the moist grass. I'm sure the neighbors had fun watching us act like total maniacs. 

Revisiting these songs was fun, but I know there are more I want to talk about in the future! Stay tuned! What are some songs you listened to as a kid that make you feel super nostalgic today? Let me know in the comments!

[piratelifeforme]

Nothing is wrong with you.

I wish I had read a post like this one years ago. Hopefully I’ll be able to help someone else by sharing my story! Have you ever wondered what the heck is wrong with you? Have you ever felt like a failure (and maybe someone in your family helped you to get that idea tattooed on your mind)? You never finish anything and you don’t know what to do with your life, like, most of the time?

Welcome to a Pirate Life For Me 101! (Don’t feel confused by the name, it’s just the name of my blog and I just like it).

That’s exactly how I felt my whole life, which means 30 years. 30 years of “I’m useless”, “I don’t belong anywhere”, “I’m a failure”, and a not very nice etc. But when I was 18 I started noticing that something was off. I was being judged like everyone else, but I suddenly understood, somehow, that if life was a video game I was not playing on the same difficulty setting than others (and I am not talking about circumstances, I am talking about the way my mind works and how I process and learn things).

I always thought ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder) was a term used for hyperactive kids, and clearly I am not a hyperactive person. I’ve been actually always called lazy, and I tend to lay a lot and get tired easily. So for many years I didn’t even thought that I could be ADHD, until, when I was 18 a friend of mine (same age) was diagnosed. It was the first time I heard about an adult being diagnosed so out of curiosity I asked her what it meant to have that disorder:

She explained to me that ADHD is not about jumping and running and not being able to stand still all the time (only), it depends on the person, and some of the main symptoms are:

* Not being able to concentrate or focus * Being clumsy  * Being forgetful * Being very impatient * Being impulsive (But you are born with these, if you develop them at a certain age that means you don’t have this disorder in particular, though you may be suffering any other kind of mental health issue or a different thing).

I was all of those things. I still am. And unfortunately these symptoms are easily mistaken as “personality traits”, and my parents never even considered that I could have a disorder or difficulties that other kids didn’t have. Instead of looking for help, they got frustrated, and they called me lazy, and told me in very severe ways to work harder, and took me into a horrible guilt trip, and as of today, I haven’t got over it completely.

So having this new information felt like finding a treasure. I had an explanation as why I kept failing, and it meant I was not a failure! So I run to my dad and told him everything about it, hoping for redemption. His reaction? He laugh and just said:

- That’s silly, you don’t have that.

It’s easy to think that your parents know everything and that everything they say is correct. But they are just humans, and they can be wrong sometimes.

I kept going through life, I started studying two different degrees (philology and arts), a graphic design course, an illustration course, I tried to get a certificate in English... I did not finish anything. I also stopped trying to have hobbies as I would get bored of doing anything for more than 5 minutes, and even reading was/is difficult for me (unless I completely fall in love with a book and then I can’t stop reading until I finish it, this is called “hyperfocusing” and it is another symptom of ADHD). I suffered depression and anxiety. I ended up working in hospitality. Hated it. Then retail. Hated it. Finally I moved to another country, got another horrible job, ended up broke, alone and depressed, and then I hit rock bottom. I was wasting my life and not achieving anything. I still don’t know how I did it, but I gathered all my strength, and decided to get out of that horrible life path.

I’m not aiming to write my biography on this post and I really want to focus on ADHD, so how I got out of there and found a passion will be for another time (in case anyone wants to hear about it). But basically, I started a(nother) degree. I was 27 years old. It was easier than the other things I tried because it was much more practical and every day and every week was different, so following it didn’t seem so hard for my fidgety mind (and also, because of being older, I had learnt a bit to force myself not to be so self).

I’ve become very apathetic due to frustration and having such a short attention span. But starting a new degree and feeling a bit more hopeful made me want to try again find hobbies or ways to enjoy my alone time (which I never did). So I grabbed the electric guitar I got once for my birthday and played a very simple tutorial on Youtube. 

It was the first time I was trying to learn something new in many, many years. And then I realised something wasn’t working as it should: Even though the part I was trying to play was very easy, every single time I tried to play it my brain would go on “automatic mode”, like when I do something I’ve done a million times and I don’t need to pay too much attention to it, the difference was that this time it was something new, and it was impossible for my fingers to do those movements without me completely focusing on it. I tried for three hours, and the frustration I felt was unbearable. And it hit me, I just knew it, something WAS wrong. My brain always worked the same way, this was not something new, but when I was younger I always thought that was how it had to be. When we are kids we kind of accept everything as it is, and think less about changing it or if it should be different. But my “more adult brain” realised this couldn’t be right. And then I thought about my friend Darki.

He had been recently diagnosed with ADHD and he was becoming an expert on the subject so I texted him and we spent hours talking about it. He said:

- You should totally get it checked, it does sound like you have it. But even if you don’t have ADHD, if you really think you have something, it probably means you do.

The process has been really long and tedious. But totally worth it. These are the steps I followed:

12/08/2016 I went to my GP (I should mention I live in the UK), as a doctor has to refer you, you can’t just show up at the ADHD clinic. The doctor that saw me really tried to put me down. She said that it didn’t really matter if I had it as I was already an adult, I would never get medication at my age, and therapy wouldn’t make a difference, again, as I was too old (I was 29). I said that I was really struggling with life, and knowing at least would help (knowledge is power!). She referred me through the NHS system and told me to wait.

The wait: during months I did not hear anything. I contacted my GP two more times, they said they would push the ADHD clinic. I contacted the ADHD clinic myself: emails and voice mails. No answer.

I checked for private clinics, but I could not afford paying £500.

I went to the Students’ Union of my University, and talked to different people about it. They are based on the same floor as one of the departments from the university that are supposed to help students, so they advised I would talk to them. I had a meeting with a woman (not sure what her role is) and she said the same things as the doctor that saw me. She said that I, as an adult, should learn on my own how to deal with it. I felt very down and frustrated.

16/01/2017 I got a phone call. Someone had cancelled their appointment in the last minute, and no one from the waiting list was able to go as it was so last minute, and they had reached my name.

I went to two different appointments (one in January with a nurse and one in March with a psychiatrist), filled two long tests and answered loads of questions.

20/03/2017 The psychiatrist gave me the best news I could have received: I have ADHD. More specifically ADHD-i, the “i” stands for “inattentive”, as there are three different types of ADHD, an even more specifically, I have ADD, as I am not hyperactive.

I have started medication, and I am about to start therapy as well. The medication is definitely helping (though I was a bit scared about taking it at the beginning) and I am actually looking forward to the therapy! The process is long and confusing, as the NHS is quite chaotic in my opinion, but I couldn’t be happier to be where I am, and I want to encourage you to go seek for help if you think you may need it. It’s never too late to start living your life, it’s never too late to find the right path, and it’s never too late to learn about yourself and find out who you are and why you see the world the way you do. I am learning a lot about this disorder, so if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask!

And lastly: I am not sad or down about the diagnose. It doesn’t mean I am less or that I have less value. It means I have different needs than other people, and learning that helped me hugely to stop being so hard on myself, loving myself more, and doing things in the right way so I can enjoy life more. Whether you have ADHD, or a different disorder or difficulty, try to get a diagnose, and do not let anyone put you down. It could totally change your life.

[roselesliesource]

Rose Leslie is distracted. Outside her window in Brooklyn a passer-by has fallen over on a patch of black ice and she can’t stop giggling. Storm Stella recently hit and New York has only just re-emerged from the state of emergency called by its mayor. It’s fine to laugh, she tells me, because the passer-by has got up and walked off, but she’s now positioned herself away from the window in case any more slapstick comedy strikes. Although she’s a big fan of comedy, the Scottish-born actress made her name playing serious-minded characters who are British to the bone. She first came to attention in 2010 as Gwen, a housemaid who betters herself and waved goodbye to Downton Abbey before the end of the first series. Next, in that other globally successful television juggernaut Game Of Thrones, she nailed the Yorkshire accent playing the fiery wildling Ygritte, Jon Snow’s enemy-turned-lover. There has also been a brief spell as a policewoman alongside Idris Elba in Luther. Right now, Leslie is feeling a bit nostalgic for ol’ Blighty, which may explain why she’s binge-watching The Replacement and This Country on BBC iPlayer. “I am obsessed with This Country,” she confesses. “The script is so astute about who they are representing – it manages to find the delicate balance of being truthful without belittling.” It’s been five months since the 30-year-old left her London flat for America to play a role that is completely different to her previous work: a high-flying lawyer in modern day Chicago. In The Good Fight – a new 10-episode spin-off from the eminently watchable The Good Wife, which finished last year after seven series – senior partner of the parent show’s law firm Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski) loses her life savings in a financial scam. But, in the tenacious female fashion of the original show, she sets up shop afresh with her goddaughter Maia Rindell (played by Leslie) and Lucca Quinn (played by fellow Brit Cush Jumbo) in another distinguished Chicago legal firm. Already critically acclaimed in the US, The Good Fight does not shy away from contemporary politics, covering topics such as fake news and police brutality. Leslie admits that the opportunity to live in New York for five months while filming the show was a perk she couldn’t refuse, but Brooklyn is a long way from her family’s 15th-century castle in Aberdeenshire where she grew up with her four siblings (a stint in a Somerset boarding school put paid to her Scottish burr) before arriving in London aged 18 to study at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art (LAMDA). Her background may be lofty but in conversation Leslie is anything but. She is naturally warm, engaging, laughs often (and hard) and has impeccable manners. Until someone falls over on a patch of ice, that is… With the success of Downton Abbey and Game Of Thrones, it seems like you have the golden touch when it comes to choosing TV shows to work on. What attracted you to The Good Fight? I was late to the party with The Good Wife but so many of my friends loved it. When I finally gave it a go, I thought the writing was fantastic and I was pulled in by the fact that [writers] Michelle and Robert King wrote so powerfully and beautifully for women. The characters are intelligent, passionate women who are struggling with climbing the prickly ladder to the top of the legal profession. It’s not an easy path but the story lines aren’t obvious. The script was completely engrossing. It features a lot of strong women who show a sense of solidarity with one another. How significant is that element to the show? There is definitely an aura and an atmosphere on set, which hopefully translates on screen, of solidarity among all the female lawyers within this particular firm. You don’t see perfect women who can juggle all the aspects of their lives. They are struggling with the workplace environment. Something that I greatly believe in is the fight that one should have for those who are being unjustly targeted, and I think the writers execute this brilliantly by highlighting the political climate right now in the US. I don’t necessarily believe that I should be a political commentator but I’m proud to be working on a show that feels it has a duty to hold up a mirror to the political landscape and therefore provide an element of accountability. Was there anything that bonded you and Cush Jumbo as Brits on set? It sounds ridiculous but honestly, from the beginning it was tea. We were asked whether we wanted water on set and both Cush and I replied, “Er, can we have some tea?” We fell into the trap of being a cliché but the first thing that bonded us was our love for tea. What have you found challenging about working away from home? I’ve missed my friends’ 30th birthdays and I’ve missed weddings. But please, that’s fine, this is not a violin session right now. I am working with some wonderful people, but I do miss the pub, our sh*t weather, being able to hop on the Victoria Line and cross the city. But that’s only because I’ve lived in London for about 11 years and I very much consider it home. But I have most certainly embraced New York, it’s a fabulous city. Was growing up in a castle in the Scottish countryside as idyllic as it sounds? My siblings and I spent most of our days rolling around in puddles, clambering through bushes and climbing trees – it was glorious. As soon as I hear a wood pigeon I’m immediately transported back there. It’s the one place on earth where I feel very settled and grounded and at peace. My parents still live there and it’s an amazing place to come home to. In The Good Fight, your character Maia comes from a very privileged background but is desperate to prove her own worth. Is that something you’ve ever identified with? I was never oblivious [to] the challenges that an actor would face leaving drama school. At the time I felt lucky to get into LAMDA. Then you’re going to need a huge amount of luck on your side. I loved it so much though; there was never a feeling of having to prove my worth to anyone. Ygritte’s most famous line – “You know nothing, Jon Snow” – has now become a catchphrase. How did you become so talented at accents? At drama school we had an hour-long accent lesson every other day for almost three years. One of the dialects I responded to most was the northern one and I ended up playing a northern lass in a touring production for five months before Game Of Thrones, which was lucky as it helped me sound relatively authentic. There are still so many I can’t do though. I long to be able to do a South African accent but I’m terrible at it and am too ashamed to attempt it in public. If you weren’t an actor, what would be your Plan B career? I would have pursued a career in psychology – it’s so interesting. I think this leads into why I am an actor – it’s a fascination I have always had with behaviour, body language and the reasoning behind why one reacts the way they do. I read that Kit Harington, who plays Jon Snow in Game Of Thrones, told a police officer about his character’s fate to get out of a speeding ticket. Is there anything you would spill Game Of Thrones secrets for? Probably something horribly self-involved like getting into a Bear’s Den gig. I happened to see them when they were here a couple of months ago and they packed out the Williamsburg Music Hall. I respectfully paid for that ticket but if I couldn’t have seen them? Well, I would be tempted… But I don’t know any spoilers. I’m actually completely clueless as to what is going to happen next season. What do you do to switch off? I am currently in Williamsburg and there is a pottery studio about two blocks away from me, so in the evenings I’ve been taking classes to entertain myself. So far I’ve made a couple of bowls and handle-less mugs – there’s no way I could set a handle on there! I’d like to think I’m channelling Demi Moore in Ghost but I really am so bad at it. The lovely instructor does most of it for me. Finally, what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to London? Have some baked beans on toast. I was devastated when the supermarket here didn’t have Heinz ones and I don’t trust the American version. They are my ultimate home comfort.

[queenjazzles]

SEX

I very rarely do document my feelings, emotions and thoughts but every once in a while I find myself in a place wherein talking to people does not help and I find it imperative to put my thoughts on paper so that I may collective analyze them and understand what it is that is truly bothering me. I know that people recommend going to a counsellor but for now I do not want to and I wouldn’t know where to begin. I suppose this is my way of finding that “where to begin”.

I am 23 years old. It’s been 16 months since I moved to Canada. My progress academically and career- wise has been slow. I have been doing okay financially and I have a job that I am satisfied with as there is quite a bit to learn here in terms of culture, respect, value and how do you treat one another with mutual respect. I am not embarrassed to admit that having grown up in India, a third world country, civic sense, respect and sophistication was rare. My parents did a good enough job and I learnt quite a bit during my bachelor’s degree on how to carry yourself in a five star hotel and such. Lately I have come to realize that I have issues with self-esteem and confidence. I do not take pride in the way I dress up. I do not take pride in myself which I believe to be an essential component in commanding respect these days. Let’s be honest here, we all judge, it’s a natural instinct however what you choose to do with that judgement defines who you are. I have always believed that who you are as a person is demonstrated by how you treat others not just those who are at a higher social status but those who are at a lower one. Our experiences shape who we are today and unfortunately or fortunately rather I have had an extensive mix of both good and bad experiences. I have known what it feels like to be a failure and I have known what it feels like to be successful.

What I wanted to understand today is something extremely personal so if you happen to be reading this, fair warning. I am 23 years old and I am a virgin. I haven’t participated in any sexual acts except for fondling, you’d probably be surprised to know that it was erotic fondling in my car and in a classroom no else. Additionally despite that I have never been kissed, not even on the cheeks. The consequences of which are: 1) I look at myself for a good 3- 5 minutes in the mirror every time I step out of my room. 2) I constantly have a voice at the back of my head telling me “you’re ugly, no one wants you” 3) I often tend to look down on the ground while I walk in order to avoid any attention. 4) I do not take pride in the way I look or dress up. 5) I have lost faith and hope in every being loved. I believe there is a strong possibility that I will either be forced into an arranged marriage or never experience sex, love or affection. How did I land up here? Well, I grew up in India following a minority religion with a strict protocol on appearance. I was forced to keep a long beard for the majority of my life. I hadn’t started trimming my beard up until the final year of my degree. During my teens I faced a lot of rejection and dirty and disgusted looks because of the same. I went through a phase of workout and weightlifting along with practicing martial arts and playing a sport, none of which helped how people perceived me. It was my 19th or 20th birthday when I got my first hug from a girl. Somewhere in my teens it turned from a society problem to a me problem. I am now in Canada, which is a very accepting place. I currently identify as genderfluid and pansexual but that’s probably a topic for another conversation. I do not believe in gender roles and I feel comfortable wearing earrings nail polish leggings and lingerie despite what my religion may or may not say and despite what people may or may not say. Am I a virgin because of choice or lack of opportunities? Well, it’s both. I chose not to have intercourse or kiss this young lady who had a crush on me for three years and she was happy to go down on me. I chose not to do any of it because I believed that in order to have a sexual relationship, love was a prerequisite. I did not love her and I saw no future there. So was I going to corrupt my morals just to have sex with someone knowing full well that she had affection for me whereas I was unable to reciprocate? No. Sometimes I regret my decision. Not because of the situation then, I am still her shoulder to cry on. I sometimes regret the decision because of what it brought on. As I grew older and started talking to more women in Canada unable to hide anything and having brought up with a compelling fear of lying, I felt morally obligated to share my gender and sexuality issues as well as sexual history with someone before I communicated that I was attracted to them. I was shocked by how quickly I was met with rejections because I was a virgin. Reasons most often cited were “excessive emotional attachment” and when I asked one of my best friends who I had known for a year here she said the same along with but “we are friends”. The best friend that I mention here (and I assure you this is not a statement on her character but rather how it makes me feel) works as an escort and has had sexual intercourse with well over 300 people. I don’t judge and that is true because she is my best friend. I have been proud to spend time with her, share my feelings and memories with her and make her laugh. But this rejection told me more, it said “you’re not attractive. You are unwanted. You are disgusting. No one will love you. No one wants to touch you. You’re an embarrassment.” These are the thoughts that crossed my mind as I dealt with my crippling fear of missing out knowing full well that I have lost any chance I had of experiencing teenage love and the blushing that comes with the hand holding. I have lost ever experiencing a major chunk of growing up and understanding my sexuality and having those experiences.  I do not ask for pity here. I may be doing horribly in one aspect of my life but considering the situations I have been in and considering who I am I believe I have accomplished something and I believe given fate favours me I will achieve more and I will hopefully eventually make someone very happy and proud. Even if it just my parents. Alas, the situation I am in today does not give me any comfort. I see no future prospects or hope of having what I seek. In fact with each passing day the hope diminishes and the possibility seems even bleaker. My fears include the fact that if in case I do find someone it is very likely that, I will be just a number. I will be the number 37, each experience that I call my first she may have already had. Each attempt of mine to do something special she may have already experienced and while the relationship might mean the world to me, despite my efforts I will be just another person for her. To conclude, as of today, I feel scared and embarrassed as I write this in the hopes that someone out there would understand how I feel. Understand that for me it is not about sex as it is about knowing that I can be loved, knowing what it feels like to be adored, and knowing what it feels like to have someone be there by your side. Knowing what it feels like to go to bed holding someone, feeling content, safe, and happy, and hoping that you get to feel that every night of your life.

 Love ............

[myselfinserts]

’ This is yet another example of the late neoclassic Baroque period. ’

Breakfast,school, lunch, tutoring, dinner, family time. Rinse repeat for three weeks inthe transition from May to June. This was the pattern for as long as Sorleycould remember. Every year, there were two points where Ceri would get overlyaffectionate, depressed, and anxious to almost paranoia. Almost suffocatingwith how much he showered everyone with extra love. Terrifying how he'd checkthe security, and take him and Odette to the back yard to practice knifethrowing. The days leading up to his birthday, and the period just as itchanges to June. Those were when it happened.

Sorleydidn't mind the extra love, but the fact that it was so precise worried him. Ashe watched the birds and the bees flick about in the flowers outside, his mindwandering to the possible reasons.

There wereso many, he didn't know where to start.

"Thisis yet another example of the late neoclassic Baroque period." Theteacher looked around the room, his eyes resting on Sorley. "Allard? Canyou please list the most commonly known artists of the era? As many as you can?"

Sorleydidn't answer, his gaze still focused outside. Why was his dad so anxious? Wasit because he was afraid of something? Was there some kind of monster? Didsomething happen?

Did it havesomething to do with his scars?

"SorleyAllard!"

"Huh?"Sorley snapped out of his thoughts, looking up as everyone looked over at him."I'm sorry?"

"Pleasestay after class," the teacher said. "We need to talk."

Sorley letout a sigh and waited quietly for class to finish, hurrying up to the desk aseveryone filed out of the room. He adjusted his glasses, trying hard to remaincalm. As much as he didn't care for lectures, he did enjoy Monsieur Éloi's art seminars. He didn't like falling behind.

And of course, Monsieur Éloi seemed to takenotice.

"Is there somethinggoing on at home?" he asked worriedly. "You're usually one of my topstudents, Sorley. But lately it's all I can do to get an answer out ofyou for roll call."

"I'm sorry, sir,"he muttered. "My dad's been acting a little paranoid lately, and it's beena bit of a weird few weeks."

Éloi nodded. "Being a high profile support engineer, Ican see why he might be-"

"No, not my papa Étienne Allard. My dad, Ceri Aylward. He gets like this around this time everyyear."

"Ceri Aylward?" Theteacher stared at him in shock. "From Elspie?"

"Yes? Why? You knowhim?" Sorley watched carefully, taking note of how Monsieur Éloi hesitated to continue. This time of year seemed to makeeveryone act strangely. "Sir?"

Éloi eventually let out a sigh of defeat. "My nephew isstudying to be a detective, and recently did his thesis on one of the villainsinvolved in your father's case. A tall man with a dragon type quirk. I wasn'taware you were related, since you use your other father's name."

"A dragon quirk?"He bit his lip, lightly tugging on the cuffs of his sleeves. "That…actuallyexplains some things about dad."

"Listen," theteacher continued, "if you or your family need anything, please don'thesitate to come talk to me."

Sorley smiled. "Thankyou, Monsieur Éloi." A thought sparked in his mind. “Um...actually. Would it be alright if I could read the report?”

His teacher nodded. “I’ll see about getting you a copy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Sorely?! Sorley wake up! WAKE UP DAMMIT!”

Sorley slowly opened his eyes, his head throbbing heavily. He couldn’t focus. Things were fuzzy, and his left arm felt horrible. He could just barely make out the faces around him. 

Ena, Les, Atsuko, Fujisaki, Nezumori.

That’s right, he remembered. We snuck in from the roof entry. And then we ran into...

His eyes went wide. The dragon man, Willis Drake. He found them trying to get to the wing Clem was being kept. He tried to kill them. Sorley could just barely remember the goons tackling the others. Atsuko being chased by Drake, only to slip away when Sorley caught his attention. 

“Another of Aylward’s kids. How about I give you a right shiner? Take your eye for takin’ mine. Seems a fair trade.”

Sorley barely remembered being pinned to the ground. The heat surrounding him. The pain on his arm.

The claw coming near his face.

But the claw never touched my face. I remember that. And Drake seemed distracted. Then it all went black and...

Wait...where’d he go? Where did Drake run off to? Are we safe?

“Sorley!” Les cried. “Please say something!”

“Drake,” he managed to cough. “What-”

Ena smiled, a look of relief glimmering in her eyes. “He got called down by Einion and decided to try and finish us off while we gathered around you. Brought a wall and some of the ceiling down to block us from getting out of here, and we nearly did get crushed. Fujisaki-san lifted a tree to keep the debris off us though.”

“You scared us,” Nezumori stammered. “I didn’t know you could cause earthquakes with your screams.”

Sorley looked at him, perplexed. “I make them with my feet. Not my voice.”

“It might have been a reflex,” Astuko grumbled. “High stress causing your quirk to change or adapt. Now just stay still.”

Slowly, Sorley turned his head toward her, a soft gasp escaping him as he saw her claws embedded deep into his left arm. His sleeves had burned away. 

There, plain as day, was a burn mark in the shape of a dragon’s claw.

“I don’t think I can keep it from scarring,” Atsuko informed them. “I’m sorry. It was all I could do to just heal the burn. Mom’s water didn’t do much other than that.”

“Can he walk?” Fujisaki asked.

“He should be able to.”

Sorley smiled. “Thanks Atsuko.” Slowly, he managed to get back to his feet, trying to ignore how the world was spinning. “What’s that sound?”

Everyone paused, listening carefully. 

“Sounds like a commotion downstairs,” Les said. “The Heroes must have caught up.”

“Then we don’t have much time,” Ena hissed. “Let’s see if we can get down another level. If Drake didn’t go there, Clem and the girl are probably still waiting for us in whatever room they’re being kept in.” 

“Mh.” Sorley nodded. “I can get us down a floor.” He smirked. “Just stay still. It’ll be a bit shaky.”

[randrvstheworld]

From Rio to Guaratiba & my first Brazilian Christmas

Since my last post we have changed location - we are now in Barra de Guaratiba, essentially a tropical paradise of gorgeous beaches & jungle & glorious, continual sunshine & tiny monkeys. However more of Rio was explored before our departure, starting with the Casa de Escala: a very long set of steps decorated with lots of tiles & mosaics by a Brazilian artist called Selaron. As a massive fan of colour, tiles & repeating patterns this was literally my stairway to heaven. A riot of bright hues & a total mish-mash of tiles sourced from around the world, decorated with anything & everything from floral motifs to renderings of the places they were from; images from old film posters, famous faces, inspirational quotes, sheet music, you name it. It was so beautiful & fun & after we made it to the stop (via lots of shameless hipster-y photos & messing around on the tiled slides & climb-able bits at the edges of the stairway) we sat in the sun & drank coconuts & listened to someone playing wonderful latino guitar music. 

In what continued to be another Art Day we then went & spent a blissful hour at Rio’s modern art museum, which was for me a peaceful opportunity to sit, uninterrupted, & draw a very interesting brass Mark Bill sculpture. I just love art galleries; they are such calming spaces, always cool & quiet & great places for a good bit of quiet time drawing, plenty of inspiration. As I have not been feeling quite myself of late it was a really nice time to restore some calm & just immerse myself in my sketchbook quietly. It definitely helped.

After the gallery we headed to the top Rio tourist spot: Christ the Redeemer. The Big Guy. The Head Honcho. The main event. This involved a walk through a very pleasant, floral neighbourhood before boarding a little funicular train up the mountain upon which JC is perched. Blimey. It’s a high mountain, let me tell you. And none of this gradual incline nonsense; this mofo is STEEP. Literally like an arrowhead. The mountains here are crazy, I’ve never seen anything like them. They barely look like real mountains. But up we went, through the jungle on the little train, leaving Rio behind as we went up & up. I was frightened at the top. The whole of the city was spread out below us, so far down. It was officially the highest thing I have ever gone up. You can see for miles & miles. And then of course there’s JC himself. He’s intimidatingly tall. But oddly peaceful; there’s something in his stature & expression that feels calming. We wished him an early happy birthday & took in the frankly breathtaking views & larked about taking pictures (& oddly, starred in quite a lot of photos with a bunch of Asian tourists at their request). And then down we went, planning some fun for our final morning before we left the Big City.

This involved taking a guided tour of the Santa Marta favela; probably the most famous favela in Rio as it provided the setting for Michael Jackson’s ‘They don’t really care about us’ music video. The favela is huge, home to over 300,000 people, like a city within a city. We took the lift to the top & then walked down; our tour guide stopping to point out the first church, Michael Jackson square, & making time for some of our group to play football with some local kids. The favela is like houses on top of house on top of houses set into the hillside. The best views over Rio & the only place in the city where you can see Jesus looking down on you from the front. It’s difficult for me to find the right language to describe our experience here. I loved it, but is it patronising to describe it as humbling? But in a sense of course, it was. It certainly reminded me of my privilege to see how people live there. But is it insulting to assume that the residents there are less fortunate than myself? Less happy? Perhaps they are not. We all just live how we live & make the best of it. The people there were simply people; polite, friendly, welcoming, going about their business like you or I, taking care of their homes, kids playing in the street: just human. Very interesting & for me a real highlight. One of my main desires for this trip was to see how different people live around the world, experience different cultures & get some insight into humanity I guess. If anything it is excursions like this that make me realise that while we are all different, we are also all similar. Just people.

Unfortunately despite all these wonderful experiences - & they truly were wonderful - my time in Rio was somewhat blighted by a real cacophony of negative thoughts I was unable to shake. Feeling depressed is like a black cloud that settles over you & casts a shadow over everything you try & achieve. You can’t escape it, you just have to wait it out, which is horrible when you are trying valiantly to make the most of the travel opportunity of a lifetime. But what can you do? Try & appreciate as much as you can. Hannah got me started on something that I’m called the Positivity Project, where I make a list each day of ten things I am grateful for. Sometimes it can feel like everything is wrong but this is really helping me to see that even something that may seem trivial & meaningless to other people - or to yourself at less trying times - like eating a good, nourishing breakfast is in fact something, even a small something, that you can be positive about. In any case I feel it’s a small step in the right direction, to adjusting my ways of thinking, to helping me see good things when the dark cloud has taken residence.

After the tour we packed our things & headed off to where we are now: the Banana Leaf Eco Hostel in Guaratiba. This has been the best-timed change of location of all. We are surrounded by lush greenery, a beach just ten minutes away, a beautiful & comfortable hostel with a very welcoming host & his sweet daughter who have gone out of their way to make us feel so at home. On our first morning our breakfast was interrupted by a gaggle of marmosets who came to join us on the terrace & ate bits of banana out of our hands, which for me was truly magical. I have tried to restore a little routine into each day; making time for exercise, healthy food & art, interspersed with plenty of sunbathing & swimming in the pool, trying to rest & just trying to get myself right. It is working. I am feeling positive & grateful again. We celebrated Christmas here the Brazilian way: an epic feast at midnight on Christmas eve, surrounded by lots of local friends of Mark & Luna’s. We wore party hats & ate until late, roast things & local dishes, everything you could think of. 

Today however, was Christmas morning - as a South African, Mark also traditionally celebrates Christmas on the 25th so fully understood our excitement at breakfast as we ate fresh fruit & exchanged gifts. From Hannah: a bag of useful travel goodies including bite cream, facewipes, painkillers, plasters, & two ginormous bars of Galaxy chocolate & a package of English Breakfast tea. From Roxy: a tiny Nutcracker trinket box, purchased in Rio, as she knows that’s my favourite ballet & I’ve been listening to the music on repeat as I do every Christmas because it’s so delightful. I gifted them some fluffy alpaca socks & a painting respectively. I spoke to my brother & my mum & discussed my plans to go home, which made me really happy. We ate more delicious food & sunbathed & swam in the beautiful turquoise ocean in the late afternoon sun. It’s been my first ever Christmas away from my home & family & although inevitably that did make me a little emotional there are certainly worse ways I could have spent it. I’m now lying on a comfy sofa, writing this in the warm, listening to the sound of light jungle rain tap-tapping away outside. I can feel the dark cloud drifting away & I am feeling glad about lots of things. It’s been a lovely way to spend the holiday.