#so yah Porter woke up

[whoblewboobear]

Idk what it is about Starbreaker that makes me latch onto the idea that they deserve to love each other. There’s kind of a desperation to it because Jace was dealt such a shitty hand and there’s also so much tragedy in Porter.

They were both tied together and changed for a bit, which is fine. D20 is bit city and it never bothered me before but it bothers me now. So at the very least if making them fall for each other in dozens and dozens of different ways makes them even a little less tragic and a little less doomed by the narrative I’ll take it. If it gives them back some agency or creates personality where there were notes but nothing concrete? Even better.

I want their mess, I want their drama, I want them living through every romcom and romance genre and trope known to man. I want them finding comfort in each other even if the world is going to shit around them. Always a duo, in every timeline. Even if things are bad, there’s still love there. Even when it’s fucked up, or heartbreaking.

Something about that desperation in Jace’s voice in part 2 of the finale with him calling out to Porter just makes me think about that same tone, that same desperation in the private moments we didn’t get to see.

We follow the protagonists, Porter and Jace were never meant to be anything more than background characters. The lens of the camera is meant to be unfocused on them. But I’m in awe of zooming in and seeing what could’ve been. All those late night that must’ve happened, all of those private whispers while they planned together. The commitment of being tethered to someone for 3 years so much so that the camera turned to them ever so briefly to highlight not once, but twice, that they’re connected.

Even if they’re jokes in canon, two bumbling fools that couldn’t even kill god, the part of them that is treated with care is the fact that they are THEE Aguefort teacher duo. There’s a list of staff we never met, that will never be anything because they don’t serve the narrative. But Jace and Porter do, hell, Porter is one of the teachers that had a ton of screen time and maybe he looked around at the set he was on and said hey, I’m dragging this threadbare excuse for man in front of the camera with me even if we come out the other end changed, we’ll still have each other.

[axburrows]

DIARY: ‘MY WEEK IN BILE’

By RICHARD LITTLETHOUGHT

The Voice of Truth; if by ‘Truth’ you Mean ‘Profoundly Right-Wing Assertions’

Monday: ‘Oh, Woke is Me!’

In the words of homosexual songsmith, Cole Porter, these days ‘anything goes’! So get your ears round this crock, readers. Yesterday morning I was woken, not by the regular dawn chorus that echoes through these bosky Basildonian terraces – the song of the gull, the linnet, the sand piper, the collared dove, the coal tit – but to the tune of another breed of avian entirely: professional vulture, Justice Lady Hale. 

‘I declare Parliament hashtag open!’, cawed Lady Hale through the radio. ‘And there’s sweet FA that you can do about it! Fact! Get over it, grubby Brexity morlocks! Yah boo! Chur-chill was a rac-ist! Chur-chill was a rac-ist!’

‘Thank you, Strong-Female-Role-Model Justice Hale!’ slavered Nick Robinson. ‘Is there anything further you’d like to add at the expense of the licence fee payer?’

‘Yes. Please follow my topless selfies and politicised rants about menstruation on Bebo!’ 

* Nick Robinson clicks fingers in applause *

‘Pah!’ I expostulated from my quilt. ‘I’ll eat yur cheeks, madam!’ 

What a load of pocket billiards this is, readers! And all on the same day that Nigel Farage was fatally gunged by Get Your Own Back’s Dave Benson Phillips for being ‘a kulak’! [1.#Citation needed##] It beggars belief. It beggars belief.

Readers, indulge me here. Having spent the last three months living hand-to-mouth from a B&B in Dover, perhaps I’m a little out of sync with the latest glut of voguish Jacobins. Tell me; to what fresh depths has the Today Programme sunk? The second that that decent Mr Humphrys turns his chapped Welsh back on the show – like a haunted Mt Snowdon –  and retreats to his retirement home at Wuthering Heights, the production staff only go and open the door to this month’s mob o’worms!  

It was enough to make me scream into the sheets, thus rousing my puce-legged wife, Vanessa – that pliant Smaug! At that moment, my personal muscle-dog, Alphonso, charged into our bedroom and sank his teeth into the bakelite of my bedside radiogram. ‘Stellar work, Alphonso!’, I enunciated from my eiderdown. ‘That’s put a bung up em, the slippery blowhards! Ho ho!’

(NB: Alphonso is an ex-service dog whom I trained specifically to protect me from RuPaul! He can also count-out the date of Magna Carta with his paw, thus making him eminently more qualified than most British school leavers. Vanessa insisted we get him neutered. I heartily rebelled against the proposal and actively installed an additional pair of testicles onto Alphonso, which gave rise to the nickname ‘The Abacus’ – hence his ability with dates.)

Tuesday: ‘A Colon-stitutional Disgrace!’ 

Well, that’s the worst of them jemmy Remainers for now, says I! That was until I saw on the web that Caroline Lucas – a Pastoral Support Officer at a school for orphaned mandrills – has demanded we write a new constitution from scratch and in dung, and proposed an oestrogen-only cabinet to resolve the Brexit impasse!

Now look here, m’gurl! I agree; there’re boy jobs and then there’re girl jobs. But hand on heart, unless you’re gonna treat the hard-working British heteros of this land to a well-earned burlesque show – and god knows we all need a bit of light entertainment round about now – then this is nothing short of patricide! Unless you’re all gonna dress up in leopard print cat suits and make a video entitled The Rump Parliament, then you’re talking a packet of Tuc Crackers ™! 

Wednesday: ‘Microsoft Cliff Art’ 

Worked on my Mindfulness colouring book. Spent 7 hours shading in a squirrel’s tail. Needless to say I felt shit afterwards and drank to forget. Had to drive to Dover to feel re-centred. Once I was convinced that I definitely had a penis, I returned to mainland. And so, to bed! 

Thursday: ‘It’s Thursday, I’m in Love!’

Cor! Thinking about that Rump Parliament made me heartsick and no mustake! There are moments, proverbial dark nights of the soul, where I fantasise about leaving Vanessa for other women and I have to find my special space. I sit alone in our airing cupboard, slaking my misery with a bottle of Haig Club. An ether of Lenor and single grain whisky brings on a reverie of regret and erotic self-hate. Truth be told, readers, I have a bit of a pash for those lady opticians you get at Specsavers. In my fantasies, I am cashing-in my free eye appointment coupon at my local branch. I hear the fluting voices of oculists, seeking me in the darkness of the optometry room. ‘Can you read the letters for me, Mr Littlethought?’ 

‘Yes. “L O V E”. Which spells…’. 

‘I never thought you cared, Mr Littlethought.’

‘Dance with me, won’t you!’

‘No, I have flat feet. The other opticians will only laugh at me!’

‘Well… maybe they don’t see you like I see you.’ And I gesture at the glasses, clarifying the wordplay for her. Then she swoons into my arms, like a hake. 

‘Oh Annabella!’ I say, my eyes flashing with passion and possible glaucoma, ‘Let me ask your father for your hand!’

‘But he lives in South Benfleet! The last gig and pony left five minutes ag-’

‘Dammit, I’ll ride there myself!’ I say, putting on my tricornered hat.

‘Oh, Richard!’

‘Please. For you it’s Dick.’ I wink at her, but - as I roll my eyes towards my belt - I feel a lump on my cornea and realise that I am in need of urgent surgery. I’m rushed to hospital and she runs off with the county dog catcher. 

Thus are the disappointments of life. All my fantasies are disappointments. Oh well. At least I no longer get those night terrors where a coquettish Fanny Craddock materialises at my bedside and transforms into the ghost of a dust mite, mid-coitus. 

Friday: ‘Trigger-ed Unhappy!’

Having already been provoked by social media this week, it was perhaps a serious error of judgement to procure a pair of Google Glasses! But what can I say? I can’t resist a trip to Specsavers. 

The Google Glasses brought everything that I despise about modern Britain quite literally into view, turning my very sight into a rolodex of airborne Maoism and adverts for courgette spiralizers! 

My sickness came to a head on Friday when I noticed that Guy Verhofstadt – a recently divorced supply teacher in a perpetual fight with an overhead projector – tweeted that, after prorogation, ‘nobody could ever complain again that the EU was anti-democratic’. 

When I read this, I went to the bottom of my garden where I have a small potting shed. I keep my bicycle propped up against the clapboard. I wheeled it to the back gate and cycled into the sea.

Finned

[infinite-bagel]

Tag meme thing~ Tagged by @etriantechnician, thank you! ^^

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Tagging: @petitechocomochi, @kellcastor, @bakudancoco, @inthegarishsubmarine, @ohohoho-its-cc @coffee-cake-otter, @novelty-pineapple, @ohlookitscazz, @melloyello138, @tsuyukami, @shions-heart, and @prettypinkpeptopuke

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A - Age: 25 B - Biggest fear: Loneliness C - Current time: 11:02pm D - Drink you last had: Water (unless leftover Korean spicy tofu Soondubu soup counts :3) E - Every day starts with: Me hitting snooze nine times until I have eleven minutes left to get ready F - Favourite song: Agorophobia by Autoheart G - Ghosts are they real: Nah I - In love with: Sugawara Koushi (and also Yukito from Cardcaptor) K - Killed someone: wtf tumblr what kind of... nevermind. L - Last time you cried: Just now from laughing so hard at reading off an Etsy listing with the product TITLE of “Leather bracelet harness sexy club hot mens friendship charm womens couples silver halloween night style bdsm outfit unique woman man“ M - Middle name: Nicole (yah i hate all forms of my name) N - Number of siblings: 1 O - One wish: To always be surrounded by love P - Person you last called/texted: Heidi <3 Q - Question you are always asked: “What... how can you hate chocolate..... when you’re a FEMALE??” (spoilers: women do not have a genetic need for chocolate,, also fuck you) R - Religion:  anime at this point honestly S - Song last sang: Divinity, Porter Robinson T - Time you woke up: 6:15 AM U - Underwear colour: Teal boxer breifs <3 V - Vacation destination: Iceland W - Worst habit: Worrying Too Much™ X - X-Rays you’ve have: A few for my back, one for my toe this one time when I had gout (it was wild) Y - Your favourite food:  P O P C O R N Z- Zodiac sign: Leo but I’m kinda salty about Zodiac stuff;;; I know I’m no fun, I don’t believe in ghosts either, I’m sorry