#this had a very different color scheme when i supposedly finished it

[padmerrie]

She was decidedly uncomfortable with the switchblade. Although she very much liked the idea of it—Blue Sargent, desperado; Blue Sargent, superhero; Blue Sargent, badass—she suspected that the only thing she would cut the first time she opened it was herself.

[nixalegos]

He waited for them to finish in full, for their cup to clatter. He made no move asides running his tongue just under his bottom lip, irritation perhaps. And when he spoke, with was with a slight flick upwards of the wrist still on the table, and exasperation in his tone. "I'm somewhat disappointed Torben. I would have thought a human would understand the importance of keeping up on matters draconic. Look at the disaster that happened when ONE decided to mettle in human affairs, and now they want to elementally level the world, or regain cosmically granted magical powers and authority and you practically scoff and dismiss it. How unbecoming for a knave to have no heart for their world and its people." He said with a tisk. A bottle of milk, chilled with its cap still clamped on tight was placed upon the table, as well as the cup they had knocked over only a moment ago. But the server had not moved in their direction, nor the barkeep moved from their eye on the rest of the rabble. But the shimmer of something...inhuman flicked behind the warlock. Something too tall was just THERE, and as quick as the flicker showed, the warlock too had a bottle to pour from in front of them, and the shimmer was gone, blank, never there at all. "So let us instead speak of monsters, seeing as I am slightly more versed in them." He said without preamble nor judgement as he opened the top of the bottle he'd managed to procure. "Kul Tiras is in more danger now then it was before the Second War. Being put back on the map doesn't make you powerful, it makes you a target. And that's the point. Because she can't claim to be a victim again and again if she ISN'T attacked at all times, right? I feel Lady Proudmoore is exactly like me. Exactly like every single warlock I have ever met. Every single one. The only difference being, she still uses arcane magic. Supposedly." He said as he topped off his mug anew. "Because we both know your...surprisingly vigorous defense of a woman who, again aren't fraternizing with, wouldn't be the same if her flames were openly a different color, now would it? I don't find that very fair. I don't find you ignoring my points about her amassing power, war materials, coinage, and political leverage as very sporting to the conversation either. You ask me -why- she doesn't destroy, for the exact same reason the warlocks of both the Horde and the Alliance -are even tolerated-. Excuses." He said as he picked up his mug with a grin. "Because you can excuse any horror, any plot, any scheme so long as you have something to point at and go 'I have to, they'll do it first if I don't!' Oh, wait, allow me to rephrase, any city wide lockdown, any civilian purge, any invasion of an independent kingdom, any regicide, let's not confuse her and me. She can excuse -anything she wants- so long as the Horde exists. So long as the fires of Theramore burn like ashes in her throat she can gobble up any resource, argue any chance at diplomacy, overtake any city state she wants. And no one can say no. No one can deny her. Not even you, apparently. Even when you know it -isn't- right." He sipped from his mug and then added. "Thought I will say I don't think she can wash over Kalimdor. Orgrimmar, sure, it's a city in a box canyon, but all of Kalimdor? Eh." The hooded warlock took a longer swig from his mug and gestured at them to open the bottle of milk and partake.

@torbeen

Sails, Ales, and Old Ails ii.

Continuation of here "Like her." He said with a scoff. "By all means, raise a glass to the Lord Admiral here, wonder how many Kul'Tirans, her own people, have been chased all this way south by her policies and increasing avarice." He added as he let go of his mug and leaned back. There was the twitch of the lip in the corner of the Sin'dorei's mouth as he did so. The nook for a cigarettes that wasn't coming. He composed himself as soon as it formed. "And seeing as you are lacking in newspapers apparently. Archmage Khadgar, whos greatest magical feat in the last ten or so years was burning a bridge last I heard, and the blue dragon Kalecgos, whos most notable history was being a mana battery and sticking his cock into any blonde hole with mana inside. Oh, and a gaggle of for hire adventurers, like usual, doing all the monster killing." He said dismissively. "It's going to be a disaster, I'm sure." "Not as if the Horde can really raise a flag that isn't colored white these days." He continued. "Don't forget we technically lost the Blood War. And we weren't in much position to fight -that- either, can't even scrape together an Iron Star from Hellscreams days I hear Orgrimmar is so starved of resources." He said dramatically. "Which was my point earlier about Proudmoores continuing existence being an excuse to do -anything- to rebuild martially, to buy breathing room and safety." He said with a casual hand wave. "You cannot name a singular Horde threat that isn't derived from a weapon yet constructed like the terror weapon sadly used on Theramore, or the woefully wasteful blight. We do not boast Crystal Spaceships, or Demi-gods, or walking weapons of arcane destruction with cities destroyed under their belts. We only boast people. Desperate people. Who are sitting there wondering when the boot is going to drop. Can you really sit there Torben, and tell me a desperate people pushed to the edge aren't justified with wanting a means of leverage?"

@torbeen

[rohad93]

Worth the Fight: Chap 4

Early the next morning Luz quickly made her way from the inn to the town square with King trotting along at her side, allowing her to make her way through the crowds easily as people moved to get away from the furry, black beast. Luz rolled her eyes at the occasional witch who would practically dive out of the way at the sight of him, she was sure he seemed amused by it though. Her demonic companion just had a way of conveying himself that was easily translatable for Luz and Eda. She finished stuffing the last of her breakfast of bread and cheese into her mouth and tossed King the last scrap of the dried meat as they walked, he caught it, teeth making a loud snapping noise as his jaws closed around it, making a couple of passerby's jump. Without ever actually talking about it, ownership of King had just sort of shifted to Luz, though Eda claimed she’d never owned him, to begin with, he’d just started following her one day. He'd appeared one night, injured and one of his horns freshly snapped off and fell down at her fireside. Eda had tended to him and he’d just never gone away, just like Luz herself. The older knight seemed to have a way of collecting the hurt and hungry.

The sun had only just risen over the city walls, but already the streets were alive with noise and movement. People hocking things on every street corner, yelling to be heard over the crowds, and the other vendors all trying to shout over each other. It was invigorating actually, the liveliness of it all, especially after the dreary little town of Beldville. That and the fact that she didn’t need to walk around with the hood of her cloak pulled up to cover her ears. No one seemed to even look at her twice as she walked around, they had places to be and stuff to do, no time to be needlessly condescending to her it seemed.

She watched the people as they passed, the market was the obvious melting pot of the city, there were beggars lined along the streets, as there were in every city, but there was also common folk, dressed much like her and nobles, easily identifiable by their manner of dress, not fit to work in, and the way they walked around with their noses stuck up in the air.

What Luz didn't see, no matter where she looked, were humans, not that it was very odd. Luz couldn't remember the last time she'd run into a fellow human, maybe not since her mother had died seven years ago. They had lived away from everyone, human and witch, in a little shack on the edge of the woods, in bothered until…

Luz shook her head, casting away the thought, today was the start of a brand new chapter of her life, she wasn't going to dwell on painful memories today.

She straightened and forcefully shoved those memories to the farthest recesses of her mind and with renewed focus made her way to the center of the market, the jovial sounds of the people around her now sound distant and muffled.

The job boards are easy enough to find, three tall, large wooden plaques on stands in the middle of the town square, sitting in front of a large fountain, with various pieces of parchment tacked to them, advertising people's need for labor.

Luz pursed her lips as she looked at all the different jobs, hope falling quickly as she scanned the papers

The job boards are filled with all kinds of tasks, deliveries, or pickups mostly, but a few odds and ends, such as finding someone's lost rooster or foraging for herbs in the woods, none of which interest Luz in the slightest. She was hoping for something a little more exciting, like fighting the cockatrice the other night had been, but the city seems to be rather lacking in beasts running amok at the moment.

She reached up and scratched her new scar with a blunt nail as she thought about that wild adventure. She would be ready next time. She still needed to study her book when she had the time, but later. She focused on the boards.

It’s mostly a lot of the same grunt work or manual labor. She frowned to herself as she looked over the many papers and even a few wanted posters with silver or even gold rewards, but that’s probably a little beyond her experience, wise at this point, that’s going to be a plan 'Z' right now.

She sighed to herself and pulled the slip of parchment out of her pocket, it had a guy's name and the name of a pub Eda had told her was down by the docks. He was supposedly the go-between for the noble families looking to hire and people looking for work.

She really hadn’t wanted to do that, but Eda gave her and King her last meal this morning, from this point on she had to make her own way or go hungry.

She sighed again and squared her shoulders as she turned to make her way down to the docks, it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she needed to eat and maybe if she did enough boring grunt work for some nobles she could save up to give herself a cushion so she wouldn’t need to worry about going hungry while looking for other work that was a little more like what she wanted.

‘Hexside’ is already full of patrons drinking the day away when she arrives.

It doesn’t take her long to find the pub in question, it’s sitting right on the water and it looks like every other pub Luz had ever seen in her seventeen years. A large, building with worn, sun-dried wood and drunkards hanging around out front, looking for money to buy more of their liquid diet. She wrinkled her nose at the briny fish smell that filled the air of the docks as they walked up to the doors.

“Wait here, Bud.” She scratched King’s head, leaving him sitting outside as she wedged her way into the dim watering hole and made a beeline for the bar. For being just after sunup the place is already half full and reeks of alcohol and body odor. She would prefer the fishy smell of the docks.

The barkeep gave her a sideways look as she sidled up to the bar, no doubt looking at her ears, she barely resisted rolling her eyes.

“I’m looking for Morton?” she asked him uncertainly and he nodded toward the back, where a skinny guy in dark brown monk robes and a strange conical hat was sitting at a table, a pile of papers in front of him and a mug of mead in one hand.

She pushed her way through the bar toward the little table in the back.

“Morton?” she called and he looked up, tensing, eyes darting around.

“Who wants to know?” He was looking at her cautiously.

“I’m Luz Noceda, I’m looking for work,” she explained.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, you’re Eda’s apprentice, right?” he asked and she nodded. “Yeah, she said you’d be by, I saved a job for ya.” He flipped through the papers and picked one up. “Guard duty for a noble family.”

“Guard duty?” Luz slumped, disappointed as Morton looked back up at her.

“Look, Kid, this is a well paying and relatively easy job, anyone I’ve seen today would kill for this, but I held it back for you as a favor to E, it’s also the only work I have left for the next couple days, so take it or leave it.”

Luz knows that she needs to work, even if it isn’t exactly what she had in mind, it is work and thus, food in her mouth; that motivates her more than anything.

“I’ll take it.” she took the paper being held out to her.

“Good, the noble family are the Blights'. A lot of their usual guards have been sent across the sea to fight in the war, they need to replace the ones that guard their manor, head over there now, that paper will get you in.”

“Thanks,” Luz nodded and turned to go, paper in hand. King jumped up and followed after her as she walked out the door.

“I guess a job is a job if we want to eat, right, Bud?” she looked down at the furry beast that stood as tall as her waist and patted his head.

She had to stop and ask for directions a few times but finally found the large manor on the eastern side of the city, just outside the main walls on a large plot of land and surrounded by a tall, black, wrought iron fence. It was at least three stories and made of smooth almost white stone.

"I guess this is it…," Luz spoke aloud, mostly to herself, but also to King.

A single guard, not much older than her stood outside the gate, looking bored, but he seemed to perk up as Luz approached.

“State your business.”

“I’m here to see… Hieronymus Bump?” Luz glanced at the paper in hand. Was she saying that name right?

The guard took the paper and looked it over before nodding and handing it back.

“Right, follow me.” He jerked his head and led them inside the gate to the manor doors.

“Stay here, King.” She held up a hand and the beast stayed where he was, sitting just outside the gate as she disappeared inside the manor.

“Whoa…,” Luz mumbled to herself as they stepped inside. The reception area is large with smooth polished stone floors and a large staircase that leads up to the second floor before it splits off to the left and right while the sconces that lined the walls glow with fire that she can tell immediately isn't natural, magic of some kind.

The house seemed to be decorated in a dark green and burgundy color scheme. The banners that line the walls feature both colors, with a serpentine creature that could be a dragon or maybe a malformed snake, twisted across the two fields of color and thorny vines wrapped around it.

The rest of the house is just as lavishly decorated as the entryway and she looked around owlishly at everything as the guard led her down the halls before they finally stopped at a door and he knocked.

“Yes?” a deep voice drifted through the door.

“A new recruit, sir.”

“Send them in.”

The guard gestured to the door before walking away as Luz stepped inside, looking around.

It’s a study, the walls are lined with bookshelves, fit too near bursting, and a desk on the other side of the room, from which a man is sitting behind, looking at her with serious, teal eyes.

“We don’t have all day, come in.” He motioned with a hand and she quickly scurried inside, closing the door behind her and moved to stand in front of the desk. The man was elderly and wearing some kind of creature over his head. Luz had to admit, for all the strange things she had seen over the years, that was a new one.

“Your papers?” he held out a wrinkled hand with long pointed nails. Luz handed over the parchment and he scanned it quickly. “You came for one of the guard positions?”

“I did... um, sir.” she nodded and he finally looked at her, really looked at her, and Luz swallowed thickly as his gaze lingered on her ears. Stupid, rounded ears!

“You are?” he questioned.

“Oh, Luz Noceda… sir!”

“I don’t suppose you have any qualifications?” He drummed his fingers impatiently across the polished wood of his desk.

“I’ve spent the last five years training under Eda, the Owl Knight…,” she trailed off. Eda’s name usually garnered one of two reactions, contempt or reluctantly impressed. She was just that kind of person.

The man’s face turned thoughtful for a long moment, stroking his chin with a hand.

“You’re Edalyn’s student, hmm?” His eyes narrowed. “I take that to mean she’s back in town…, just what we need,” he grumbled tiredly. “Very well, hopefully, you won’t cause half as much mayhem as Edalyn,” he grunted, standing and walking around the desk, hands folded behind his back. “I am Sir Hieronymus Bump, the steward of Blight Manor, I see to most affairs in Lord and Lady Blight’s stead as well as serve as a tutor to their children.” He introduced himself as he came to stand in front of Luz. “You will take your orders from me, or a member of the Blight family, and no one else, understood?”

“Uh, yes sir!” Luz saluted, back going ramrod straight and Bump nodded, pleased.

“Let me outline your duties then, you will stay here, in the guard barracks six days of the week, night and day, to perform guard duty for the manor and family as needed…”

Luz mentally deflated at that, she would need to live here until this job was finished. Maybe this wasn’t the job for her. She was just about to voice as much when Bump continued on.

“Meals will be provided to you and every fortnight you will collect your payment of thirty silver a day from me.”

Luz almost choked on her spit at that. Thirty silver a day? That was… a lot of money, She could put a lot of money away for future adventures and she wouldn’t need to spend any of it on food..

“Understood?” Bump is looking at her with a considering gaze and Luz nodded.

“I understand, sir.”

“Very well, go, collect your things and be back before sundown, I will give you your duties to commence first thing in the morning.” He turned and walked back to his desk at the dismissal.

Luz wasted no time disappearing out the door and back to the front door. King’s ears perked up when she approached, trotting across the yard and through the gate.

“Let’s go, Bud, we gotta tell Eda!” She grinned as they raced back through the city toward the Redstone inn.

She couldn’t believe her luck, sure, it was a far cry from the exciting adventures of slaying monsters or hunting down bandits that she had envisioned, but it was a good place to start, for sure.

Eda isn’t there when they get to the Inn, which she should have expected, she was still out on a job no doubt, but Luz had time, she could wait for her mentor to return before she left.

She gathered up her meager possessions in a sack. Some spare clothes, her new magic book, and a small, wooden box that carried her most cherished possession. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood and smiled sadly to herself before she set it carefully in the bag.

It doesn’t take long before Eda returned, looking haggard from her day doing who even knew what.

Luz immediately launched into her story about the job, sparing no detail. Eda whistled.

“Thirty silver a day? That’s a lot of money to stand around looking like you’re busy. This must be one rich family.” Eda hummed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“I’m not going to help you rob them…” Luz frowned, already knowing by the look on Eda’s face what she was thinking.

“You’re no fun,” Eda grumbled, leaning back on the bed, and crossing her arms. “Good job, Kid. You’ll be great.” She grinned.

“Thanks…” she smiled but Eda could see the unsure look on her face and her voice lacked its usual amount of pep.

“What’s the matter?” she cocked her head. Luz shrugged, making a face.

“I guess it just feels real now, we’re not gonna be traveling or staying together anymore, I’m going off on my own… I’m not your apprentice anymore… I’m going to miss you,” she admitted, looking at Eda, eyes glazing over.

“You’re such a sap,” Eda huffed but smiled as she stood from the bed to stand in front of Luz. “No, we won’t. You’re as ready as you’re ever going to be, you just need experience, and you’re not going to get it following me around, but hey, I think I’m gonna stay in town for some time, so as I said, I’ll be around if you need any advice or just miss this lovely face.” She batted her eyes, making Luz snort. Eda slapped a hand atop Luz’s head, even though she was just as tall as her now, a far cry from when they first met five years ago and ruffled her hair. Luz grinned as she did. “But yeah, I’ll miss seeing you every day too, Luz.”

Without warning, Luz threw her arms around the older witch and squeezed, and for once, Eda didn’t complain about the hug, just squeezed her back for a moment before pushing her back to arm's length.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough affection, you got places to be and it isn’t here being emotional all over me,” Eda smirked, planting a hand on her hip.

“Right!” Luz picked her sack up off the bed and tossed it over her shoulder.

“Don’t forget that one.” Eda jerked her thumb at King, laying sprawled out on her bed without a care in the world. Luz nodded and stuck two fingers in her mouth, giving off a high pitched whistle that made King shoot up off the bed and hop to her side. Eda reached out and scratched the spot between his horns.

“You take care of her, furball,” Eda smirked at him.

King seemed to huff in response, but his eyes narrowed pleasurably as she scratched his head.

“Now get outta here, we’ll see each other again before you know it.” She smiled and Luz nodded, smiling back before she turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She sighed and straightened up as she turned to King.

"Okay Bud, it's you and me against the world, a woman and her demon wolf!"

King let out a deafening bark in response.

"Get out of here already!" Eda's voice called through the door.

Luz laughed to herself as they trotted down the hall and out of the inn.

[skzsauce01]

In Fair Verona︱Chapter 10

Synopsis: Jisung knows he is the Romeo to your Juliet. He could wax poetry about you all throughout rehearsal and even a little after. Except Hwang Hyunjin is the one playing Romeo in the school play, not him. Jisung is just another tech crew member that you don’t know, but he’s determined to win your heart... by any means necessary.

Warning: violent thoughts

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: fem!reader x Jisung; fem!reader x Hyunjin

updates every Wednesday and Sunday @ 11 PM PST︱chapter list

Two household, both alike in dignity

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

Opening night has arrived. Tech crew’s call time is 5:30 PM, and Jisung pulls into the parking lot just a few minutes later. The late afternoon sun is low in the sky, and he has to squint through the light when he runs up the steps to the auditorium. The entrance leading to the lobby is predictably locked, but he doesn’t have time to take the long way. He peers through the tiny window and sees nobody in the immediate vicinity. He pounds against the heavy metal door, hoping someone hears him. When no one shows up, he growls to himself and texts the tech group chat. No answers. Seconds later, you appear, walking by with a box of programs. He doesn’t want your help, but he doesn’t want to get a verbal lashing for being late either. Jisung hits the door again, and you almost drop the box.

“Y/N!” he shouts. “Open!”

With wide eyes, you quickly push open the door for him with the side of your body and go back to place down the programs. You’re dressed in the same shirt he is. While he normally would be delighted at this coincidence, he’s repulsed now, knowing that you stabbed him in the back a mere twenty-four hours ago. You don’t say hello to him, and he doesn’t either.

“Thanks,” he roughly says, avoiding eye contact with you.

You don’t say a single word back.

He swings open the door to the auditorium with more force than necessary, and it knocks against the metal trash can. He’s greeted by a song with a thumping bass and Chan’s rapping.

“What’s happening?” Jisung asks no one in particular. He’s glad that he hasn’t missed anything though. He settles down in a seat in front of the soundboard and watches different colored lights flash across the cyclorama. A couple of silhouetted bodies dance on stage.

“Felix found out two of the actors are dancers,” Changbin replies. “Chan wanted to play his new song, and Jeongin just went along with it.”

Jisung nods, but he doubts Changbin notices in the darkness anyway. Jisung himself can’t make out who’s who. Another figure later appears on stage and shouts in Mr. Gi’s voice, “What are you guys doing?”

The lightshow stops, and the music volume drops to a whisper. Felix, Hyunjin, and the guy playing Mercutio pause in the middle of their dance off. Hyunjin’s smirk is starting to slide off his face, and Jisung feels the sudden urge to drag the corners of his mouth down with barbed hooks. He would look a lot better if he had a perpetual frown.

Felix hesitantly offers, “Sound and light check?”

Mr. Gi lets out a short laugh before turning serious. “We’re going to run through tech now.”

Everyone springs into their usual positions, while the two actors return to wherever they were before. Jisung gives Hyunjin a sufficiently long glare as he walks out the side door. The real sound and light check then begins. Occasionally, the floor crew is needed to set up the stage and to practice for blackouts. Jisung envies Seungmin, who is assistant tech director. He gets to relax for the night.

Before the main doors open, pictures are taken, one of cast, one of crew, and one of everyone involved. Jisung doesn’t miss the fact that Hyunjin has an arm slung around you and that you’re twisting the silver ring on his finger. He looks around and, to his disbelief, discovers that no one cares. The very people surrounding the two of you are busy adjusting their hair and clothes while waiting for the parent volunteer to take the photo.

“3, 2, 1!”

Jisung snaps back to the camera with thinly veiled irritation. Another picture is taken, and the brittle smile he has on is threatening to break. There are calls for a funny picture, and while he normally would be excited, he wants to get away from you and Hyunjin’s public displays of affection. In the next picture, he and Changbin give each other bizarre looks and shoot finger guns at each other, while you and Hyunjin reenact one of your fake endings to Romeo and Juliet.

Disgusting.

During the play, Jisung does his best to stay attentive to Felix and Changbin’s calls. He’s more talkative in the comms now that he realizes what a waste of time the last two weeks were pining after you. He jokes with his friends, and he’s happier than he's been in days. He learns that the stage kisses are now real kisses, and Hyunjin doesn’t bother obscuring the action. Both the crew and the audience cheer loudly when they see it.

During your costume change, he boldly watches you shimmy out of your dress and observes your protruding spine when you bend down to pick up the fallen garment. If he throws one of the metal counterweights from the fly rail system at you, he thinks, you would drop dead.

So would any other person, but he gets a certain thrill when he pictures Hyunjin finding your crumpled up body on the floor. It’s all Hyunjin’s fault anyway. He would get what he deserved.

Strangely — well, maybe not — Jisung actually enjoys the play now. The death scene, which hurt him to watch before, is his favorite part. It’s a fitting ending, you and Hyunjin dying together after all the casualties you caused. He feels vindicated. When the main curtain comes down, he’s almost disappointed.

There’s a crowd of lingering people in the audience after the show ends and when the post-show music starts playing. While you and Hyunjin take (more) pictures with each other, your friends, and families after the show, Jisung once again sits in the row in front of the soundboard, taking in everything happening. Your friends have signs and flower bouquets, and you happily receive them all. Hyunjin momentarily disappears before coming back with a dozen roses for you.

“Romeo’s got game,” Seungmin, who has taken over photography duty, lowly whistles. He picks up his camera and snaps a photo.

Jisung grits his teeth and doesn’t say a single word. You place a shocked hand over your mouth before shyly kissing him on the cheek. There’s another click of the camera.

“They’re dating,” Ryujin announces.

“How do you know?” Seungmin asks. “And why didn’t we know about this news?”

“Yeji told me today when we were getting lunch, and it’s none of your business anyway,” she shrugs. “But it’s been pretty obvious they’ve been crushing on each other since rehearsal started.”

“Who’s Yeji?” Jeongin interrupts.

“Lady Montague, looks like Hyunjin?”

“Who’s Hyunjin?”

“Romeo?” she answers incredulously. “It’s been two weeks!”

“I sit back here and turn the lights on and off!”

While they bicker, the audience members still around slowly start leaving. You wave goodbye to your friends and promise to meet your parents in the lobby after you’re done. The ushers begin walking through the aisles to check for trash, and the actors go to the dressing room to change out of costume. Then Mr. Gi gives out the tech notes for the night.

There’s only a few critiques, and Jisung is satisfied that Felix can’t rib him for any mistakes. While notes are ongoing, you hand back two mic packs to Chan, explaining that one of them is Hyunjin’s. Jisung notices that you’re wearing the jacket you supposedly returned to Hyunjin. It’s unzipped and hangs loosely on your frame. It could have been his jacket there. Another shred of anger rips through him, and he looks away, no longer gritting his teeth but grinding. You prance to the classroom, and he hopes one of the lights falls from its fixture and lands you in the hospital.

After notes are finished, the tech director congratulates them all on a job well done, and they’re all free to leave. It’s late, and Jisung’s excited to go home. He spots your parents milling around the lobby, making awkward small talk with the drama students selling grams. You’re almost a carbon copy of your mother, down to the way her eyes widen when a new person enters the room. He politely smiles, and she returns the gesture like you would have last week. It’s another reminder of what he could have had.

He’s on autopilot the drive home. He rolls at least two stop signs, but there’s luckily no one around in those four way streets. He has an unfinished plan in his mind, and he desperately needs it to be complete. It was previously tailored for Hyunjin, so he makes a few adjustments to include you.

The rest of the night he spends researching online. The glow of his screen illuminates his face in the darkness and reflects off of his bluelight glasses. His back hurts from being hunched over for three hours, but his scheme is ready. As he shuts down his laptop, he stretches, enjoying the tension released from his shoulders and mind. He’ll sleep well tonight, very well.

—

The second show is the day after opening night on Saturday. This time Jisung arrives a solid twenty minutes before his call time. He’s been in a good mood all day; he woke up refreshed and energized, and he even made a quick trip to the local flower shop to buy a beautiful blue monkshood plant for his mother. He takes the long way to the auditorium, knowing that he’s likely the first tech crew member to arrive.

He passes by the green room and spots you eating dinner alone. There are other actors and extras nearby, but you’re sitting at a center table, scooping fried rice into your mouth. How pathetic. He can hear a sword fighting scene being rehearsed on stage, and he’s certain Hyunjin’s part of it. He wonders why you aren’t cheering on your Prince Charming. Surely, you like him more than your terrible, burnt rice. The old Jisung would have jumped at the opportunity to be around you, but the enlightened Jisung strides to the stage, unaffected by your charms.

He’s proud of himself. He feels no rush of rage when he sees you anymore, and when he sees Hyunjin stab Tybalt with a wooden sword, he’s calm. He walks to the back of the auditorium, where Chan has his own headphones on and Felix is furiously tapping his phone screen.

“You guys are here early,” Jisung remarks, taking Jeongin’s chair.

“Nothing better... to do,” Felix mumbles, clearly concentrated on whatever game he’s playing.

Chan is engrossed in his own world, bobbing his head to the music and drumming his fingers across the board. Jisung leans back in his seat and checks Hyunjin’s Instagram. As he expects, his latest post is a photo of you and him from last night. You hold the roses he gave you, and he has an arm around your waist. The caption simply reads, “Opening night.” Satisfied with his findings, Jisung turns back to the stage, where the actors are starting their fight from the beginning again.

As time goes on, he loses interest, and more of the crew starts arriving. Jisung later waits in the lobby, opening doors for anyone too lazy to take the long way around. He’s reading gardening forum posts about monkshood when you and one of the house managers come by with more programs, predicting how packed it will be tonight. He glances up momentarily before deciding to ignore you. He can’t help but feel a tiny bit of resentment when you try to meet his eye. Where was all that a few days ago?

“Hi, Jisung,” you cautiously greet, seemingly trying to dissolve the tension between the two of you. You still have that scared deer look though.

While the house manager gives him a curt nod and then disappears into the auditorium, you linger around.

“Hey,” he replies and leaves it at that. He’s over you, and he doesn’t want any reason to come crawling back.

“Opening night went well.”

“Yeah.”

“How many people do you think will come tonight? I think at least a hundred.”

“I don’t know.”

You try to continue the conversation — though it barely qualifies as one — and Jisung shuts down every attempt you make. He doesn’t want you anymore, not after you strung him along with your jokes and smiles and then ran off into the sunset with Hyunjin.

There’s a knock on the door, and he absentmindedly opens it for Yugyeom, who’s out of breath from running up the stairs.

“Thanks,” he manages to get out. “Have we started yet?”

“I think we’re about to,” Jisung answers. “Bye, Y/N.”

He opens the auditorium doors for Yugyeom and lets it swing shut after him before you have the opportunity to slip inside.

Fine. Maybe he’s still a little angry at you, but it would be insane to think that he would be completely over you after all the interactions he’s had with you.

He follows Yugyeom to stage right. While sound and lights are being tested, the floor crew waits patiently in the wings. Ryujin slides the hangers across the rack, counting the number of costumes, and Yugyeom makes sure all the props are in order. With nothing better to do, Jisung stands by him and watches as he rearranges the items on the table. He sees two chemistry tube looking containers, and he can’t help but reach for them.

“Do they actually drink this?” Jisung asks as he picks up a clear vial filled with green liquid. “And what is this?”

“Just colored water,” he shrugs. “And yeah, they drink it. Hyunjin asked if I could change it every day since he and Y/N use it as a water break on stage. He said Ms. Park was okay with it.”

Jisung remembers the vial Hyunjin drinks from in the death scene. He grimaces as he sets down the container, suddenly feeling contaminated.

“Water, but not coffee or something?”

Yugyeom shrugs again. “He said water. And also, water is free.”

“But not food coloring.”

“Ms. Park asked the culinary class for some. Wanna help me change out the water?”

Jisung looks around and sees that Changbin is scrolling through his phone, eyes glazed over, tuned out of what’s happening despite wearing a headset. “Sure. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Jisung and Yugyeom take the vial of poison and Juliet’s sleeping draught. Apparently, you used that as a water break as well. Though Yugyeom asked him to help, Jisung does nothing but observe. It’s not like he needs the aid either; all he has to do is dump the water in the bushes, refill from a water fountain, and stir in a few drops of food coloring. The sleeping potion is a midnight blue, while the poison is a murky green. Neither look particularly appetizing, and he wonders how anyone would be able to drink either without feeling sickened.

When they return to the stage, Jisung goes back to his usual spot and continues waiting. In the meantime, he resumes reading about monkshood. Apparently, their roots are especially toxic.

The show that night goes well. He doesn’t know the exact number of audience members, but when he peeked past the curtain before the show began, he saw that at least half the seats were filled. During the death scene, Jisung pays close attention. Hyunjin’s back faces him, so he doesn’t know if he actually did drink it. He does get a good look at you, and he sees you kiss Hyunjin squarely on the lips with no hesitation.

At the end of the night, he waits by the soundboard for all the audience members to leave before tech notes can begin. The main cast stays around, talking to people they know and taking pictures with them. You don’t get any flowers this time, but a random girl with adoring eyes gives Hyunjin yellow and pink roses. There’s not a hint of jealousy on your face, and Jisung feels strangely irked by that. Hyunjin accepts the flowers sheepishly and shyly introduces her to you, his co-star and girlfriend. The girl’s expression falls, and Jisung empathizes with her. He’s been there before.

Seungmin’s snapping pictures, and he takes one of Hyunjin holding the flowers. “A potential love triangle?”

“No way,” Ryujin replies. “Hyunjin’s head over heels for Y/N.”

“Y/N’s Juliet, right?” Jeongin asks. Ryujin opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. “Right. She is.”

Felix chimes in, “Minho said that Hyunjin’s totally in love with her. They are cute together.”

The old Jisung would be outraged by those statements from his friends, but the new Jisung agrees with those remarks. Even he has to admit that the two of you make a pretty picture together. You and Hyunjin perfectly deserve to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

“Who’s Minho?” Jeongin expectedly asks.

“Mercutio,” Felix answers. “The other guy in the dance off yesterday.”

The gossip dies down when they notice you and Hyunjin heading over with your mics. Chan strikes up a discussion about the cast and crew dinner after the last show next week, and everyone immediately gets excited. Chan takes the mic packs from you two, and Hyunjin sticks around for a bit. He murmurs something to you, and you nod before leaving. Jisung doesn’t miss the nervous look in his direction, like you’re trying to work up the nerve to approach him. Jisung snaps his stare away.

“It’s at District 9 this time,” Jisung says, taking care to not include him. Hyunjin could have you, but he’s not going to let you take away his friends, too.

Chan groans. “Again? Their food sucks.”

“What’s at District 9?” Hyunjin says.

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting you’re new since you’re the lead. The cast and crew dinner. We all go to a restaurant and eat together after the final show,” Felix explains. “We usually go to District 9. Their food’s okay.”

“Their food sucks,” Chan echos.

“It’s not that bad,” Jisung counters. “You ate everything on your plate last time.”

“Because I was hungry! And because Jeongin ate my snack!”

“You let me have it!”

A side conversation starts up, and Hyunjin stands awkwardly at the side, not understanding the references and inside jokes. It’s petty, but Jisung wants Hyunjin to hurt as much as possible before next week when he won’t ever have the opportunity again. Mr. Gi finally finishes chatting with a colleague of his and starts tech notes. Hyunjin looks relieved to have an excuse to leave.

Notes are short, given that it’s a Sunday night and that they did well overall. They’re reminded that they have two more shows next weekend before they’re dismissed for the night. Jisung, feeling drained by all that’s happened, silently cheers before walking out to his car through the main doors.

Under the yellow streetlights, he sees you hold hands with Hyunjin as you make your way to his car. Hyunjin laughs at something you say and tucks one of the pink flowers from his fangirl into your hair so tenderly, Jisung has to look away.

Hyunjin is so in love with you, and you with him. It sickens Jisung to his core, but he has a remedy for this illness.

~ ad.gray

[jackdawyt]

Solas: “I walk the dinan’shiral. There is only death on this journey. I would not have you see what I become.”

Lord of Tricksters and He who Hunts alone, kin to His People. He who could walk on both sides of Gods without fear, they all trusted him, and all of them were betrayed. He told the Creators that a blade was forged in the heavens and the Forgotten Ones that it was hidden in the abyss, and when they went searching for it, he sealed them both in their realms forever, paying the ultimate price. He comes in humble guises but strikes those who are vulnerable, Thedas has never been in more peril than ever before, Fen'Harel will rise again.

Hey guys, Jackdaw here! Given the many revelations of Tevinter Nights, we have a lot of plot threads and teases hinting at what Solas may do next in his grand scheme to destroy the Veil and restore the Elven Kingdom. Indeed, the Dread Wolf has risen, and we’ve got a lot of theorising to do!  

So, with that said, I ask that you don your tinfoil hats, respectively, as we examine the Dread Wolf rising, and the next stages of Solas’s scheme that will inevitably destroy Thedas.  

Sandal: “When he rises, everyone will see!”  

Fen’Harel has risen as a beastly and ill-natured creature held from within, mantled in the disguise of an elven mage.  

Discovered in “Callback”, the final Fresco that Solas drafted out in Skyhold’s Rotunda before leaving the Inquisition, revealed an outline of a beast stood over a stabbed dragon; two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass with confused forms. The beast is shown to be a horrifying wolf, having absorbed the dragon’s power, stood crooked over all.

“The eighth and final panel of the fresco, meant to commemorate the battle against the blighted magister Corypheus, was unfinished. It showed only rough shapes, outlines that the mass of color crawling around the room now rushed to fill. And as detail and depth emerged, something was wrong.” (Callback, Page 121).

The depiction of the unfinished fresco relates to Solas’s embrace with Mythal at the end of Dragon Age: Inquisition. For many years, we’ve been scratching our heads about this exchange between Mythal and Solas. Thanks to Tevinter Nights, and more aptly, Solas. We have the truth.  

“But here, unfinished, was the outline of a beast that stood over both dragon and sword. This was not the battle, or the victory. This was after. And the beast was not a dragon. The outline alone might have allowed that assumption, but now, filling with black and red, it was something other. The creature was reptilian, but also canine. The snout was blunted and toothy, but edges came to a point in houndlike ears. As the mass of plaster filled the shape, it began to rise, revealing scales and tail, and paws with talons. It looked like two figures painted on either side of a pane of glass, then viewed together, their forms confused. A wolf that had absorbed a dragon, and now stood crooked over all.” (Callback, Page 122).

This fresco uncovers that Solas absorbed an unknown quantity of Mythal’s power, with her essence he can rise as the Dread Wolf. For what purpose, we’ll discuss later. However, an essence of Mythal, somewhat lives on, as she seemingly placed a piece of herself into an eluivan before Solas took the majority of her power, in order to rise.  

Mythal: “It was only a piece, but that’s all I needed”.

I certainly don’t think that’s the end of Mythal. I believe quite the contrary, I think Solas’s scheme that has been set in motion was Mythal’s idea in the first place. Without her power, Solas wouldn’t be able to rise as the Dread Wolf. It’s only because of her immolation, he can rise! I think Mythal too will rise in the future, perhaps in another body.  

Regardless, the fact that Solas engraved rising as the Dread Wolf with Mythal’s power in Skyhold, before the orb broke, proves that Solas always intended on meeting Mythal, to take an aspect of her power.

Mythal’s sacrifice was never a backup plan to Solas, regardless of his orb’s destruction. Solas always planned on paying her a visit, with or without the orb, having the same intention of absorbing her power so he could rise.  

The orb would only fulfil one purpose, and that’s to rip a hole in the Veil. Whereas taking Mythal’s power had a different purpose – to prepare for Solas’s transformation into the Dread Wolf. And, so with that power now invested, the Dread Wolf has risen.  But only willingly on Mythal’s part.

Solas: “I would have entered the Fade, using the mark you now bear. Then I would have torn down the Veil. As this world burned in the raw chaos, I would have restored the world of my time…the world of the elves.”

With the orb’s destruction, Solas will be looking for a new way to destroy the Veil. Perhaps the Red Lyrium Idol is his backup attempt, and tracking down the Idol is his current quest, so he can successfully destroy the Veil with it, as intended.  

If that solves how Solas could destroy the Veil, then what’s Solas’s plan behind rising as the Dread Wolf? He’s not rising as the Dread Wolf to destroy the Veil, so, what is the Dread Wolf’s purpose?  

Perhaps Solas needs to rise as the malicious Dread Wolf so he can vengefully deal with the many hostile forces after the veil is destroyed.  

Although there will be plenty of opposition against Solas destroying the Veil, like the Executors, Qunari, Inquisition and so on. Nothing in Thedas today can equal what lies beyond the Veil, lingering in many places like the Void and the darkest depths of the Fade.  

Ancient beings, things left forgotten, and The Evanuris.  

Solas is rising as the Dread Wolf to slay his ultimate adversaries. The next protagonist may think that we fall among that category, but nothing can measure against the insane, wicked powers of those who dwell across the Veil, and will soon be released from their shackles if Solas succeeds, and destroys the barrier protecting Thedas against the Fade.  

Inquisitor: “If you destroyed the veil, wouldn't the false gods be freed?”

Solas: “I had plans.”

Solas: “They killed Mythal. A crime for which an eternity of torment is the only fitting punishment.”

Mythal was murdered by her own people, the Evanuris, in their lust for power, they betrayed her. When the Veil is destroyed, Solas will rise as the Dread Wolf, seeking justice for Mythal’s murder, he will find and kill each member of the Elven Pantheon that wronged his queen. The deaths of the False Gods will bring forth a new elven empire ruling over Thedas, with Solas and Mythal at the top.

Flemeth: ”Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me and I will see her avenged!"

I believe that Mythal exchanged the majority of her power to Solas, so he could follow her scheme of vengeance/justice against the Evanuris. Through the ages, Mythal seeks her own reckoning against those who betrayed her, her one aim has always vengeance. With Solas waking from his long slumber, the two have since schemed an ending against the Pantheon. Solas, using Mythal’s power, and rising as the Dread Wolf will be the False God’s demise.  

Solas and Mythal will have their vengeance, and a new world for the Elven people. However, the Veil hasn’t been destroyed yet, and there’s still time to stop Solas from reaching that reality. The best lead on Solas’s plan regards the Red Lyrium Idol.  

"The Dread Wolf wants that idol, and he’s not afraid to get his hands bloody to get it." (TDWTY, Page 490).

“He intends something for the Fade, and if he wants the idol, then whatever he intends will be terrible.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Red Lyrium Idol is still a mystery, and I say that with exasperated lungs, because I’ve talked about this blasted relic in every lore video I’ve created since The Dread Wolf Rises trailer back in 2018. Because of that, I’m going to rush through the details on this Idol.

It’s been described as: “a couple hugging, too thin to be dwarves”, or “a god mourning their sacrifice.” However, disregarding what it supposedly looks like, this idol belongs to Solas. It’s his, and he wants it back, he has a purpose for it.  

“YOU USE MY IDOL CARELESSLY TO VANDALIZE THE SEA OF DREAMS. NOW FEEL THE PAIN OF WHAT YOU HAVE CREATED.” (TDWTY, Page 496).

For what? Well, Red lyrium is known to thin the Veil, and this idol has magical properties too. It’d be a pretty good catalyst for the Veil’s destruction.  

Secondly, when the Idol was used in a blood and binding ritual, it revealed a most intriguing ritual blade, perhaps Solas wants or needs this blade. Could this be the blade to end all wars? Does he need it to finish his ritual? Or is it just a nice sharp dagger to cut Lavellan’s heart out again?  

“It was not merely an idol, but a ritual blade. He slashed his own hand, and a wave of power pulsed through the cavern.” (TDWTY, page 495).

And my final reason for justifying Solas’s genocidal actions.... In “The Hunt of The Fell Wolf” codex, Ameridan killed a great canine beast with a mysterious ‘fade touched’ Idol. This Idol was the only thing that ‘could prove the monster’s doom.’

“The wounded knight in darkness

Found within the cavern's gloom

An idol of fade-touched stone,

Which could prove the monster's doom.”

(The Hunt of the Fell Wolf, Stanza 15)

Perhaps this Idol from Ameridan’s story is the very same Red Lyrium Idol, and Solas is looking for it because the Idol is one of the only things that can stop and kill Solas, just like the beast in the codex. So, if Solas finds the Idol before anyone else, he’s got full security over his own victory, and no one can stand against him.  

The Red Lyrium Idol belongs to him, perhaps it’s like a ‘Horcrux’, you destroy the Idol, you destroy an aspect of Solas? If that’s too far-fetched, then perhaps the Idol is just very strong with its magical properties, and Red Lyrium compound, and that’s what can defeat Solas. Or, potentially, the ritual blade released from the Idol is the ultimate blow against him? It’s really a matter of tinfoil at the moment.  

What’s unknown is the Idol’s location. Does Solas already possess the Idol? If not where is it? More apropos, who has it?  

This seemingly pre-veil artefact found in the Primeval Thaig by Hawke, which was then stolen by Varric’s Brother, Bartrand. And then sold to Knight Commander Meredith, who crafted it into a greatsword, that granted her, and the sword magically capabilities.   Apparently when Meredith went boom and almost destroyed half of Kirkwall, the sword made from the idol was also destroyed, however, the idol stayed with Meredith as she transformed into a red lyrium statue.   It lingered for a while, until the Carta extracted the idol using a potion created by a Dalish Elf. It was then sold to House Qintara in Tevinter, the house traded it to House Danarius for information, then a Magister from House Danarius took it to the Grand Necropolis for a ritual.   The ritual ended in chaos and flames as the Dread Wolf was summoned, however, the idol escaped Fen’Harel’s grasp, as a noble’s son grabbed it and fled into Tevinter lands.   At this point, the idol’s location gets a tad fuzzy, apparently the idol somehow made its way to an auction, off the coast of Rivian, on the Island Llomerynn. Supposedly, the Dread Wolf made a physical appearance and took his idol back, and that’s the end of it. However, it seems that this could’ve been framed as a lie, or bluff, so Solas could retrieve the Idol, and stop those who seek it from getting it. (TDWTY, paraphrased a lot lol)  

In short, the Idol’s whereabouts are set up for interpretation in “The Dread Wolf Take You”, by the end of the story, we don’t quite know where exactly this idol is, and even if we take a guess, it doesn’t feel concrete... Did Solas actually take the idol from an overbearing auction, with quite the hysterical crowd located off the coast of Rivian? (doubt face) Or did a Noble’s son smuggle the Idol safely back into Tevinter war-torn territory?  

While, I lean to the side; Solas lied throughout the story, so therefore he doesn’t have it, and it’s somewhere in Tevinter, in the occupancy of Maker-knows who.... That still doesn’t give us any clues.

Fortunately, we have some new information, so we don’t have to continually guess, like a dog chasing its tail. Thanks to Dark Horse, Dragon Age comic writer Nunzio DeFilippis, we have an understanding of where this idol was originally supposed to go, before the comics were reworked with Dragon Age 4’s iteration reboot.  

Nunzio recently mentioned in the Unofficial BioWare Forum that the comic characters from Deception were originally chasing the Red Lyrium Idol. The original plan for the comics would've had the characters retrieve the Idol. Only to have Solas take it back. Eluding to the idol's planned whereabouts before the plot changed.  

So, regardless of where the idol may be right now, is Solas’s retrieval of the blasted thing inevitable considering the comics would’ve had this plot solved before the next games launch? Is it a matter of time before Solas finds his idol? Or has the plot changed a lot since then? Maybe we’ll have a shot at grabbing this idol before Solas gets his hands on it in the next game?  

With that, we don’t have a solid placement for where the Idol is, but we can assume that it will end up in Solas’s hands soon enough. However, regardless of the Idol, Solas already has set-out an ominous ritual to destroy the Veil.  

Solas {He} sighed. “It was a moment of weakness. I told myself that it was because you all deserved to know, to live a few years in peace before my ritual was complete. Before this world ended.” (TDWTY Page 506).

Whatever this ritual is, beats me. Solas mentions that it’s going to take a few years until it’s complete. And then boom, it’ll be down with the Veil, and the Dread Wolf shall rise.  

This once more begs the question, if Solas had made plans to destroy the Veil, then why does he need the Red Lyrium Idol? But again, like I said, perhaps he needs to retrieve the Idol because it’s his greatest weakness if used against him. Once he has it, he can destroy it, or throw it in the rubbish, so no one can stop his plan.  

Back to Solas’s ritual. The Dread Wolf has taken residency in the Fade, where his ritual has started to affect.  

“But whatever fear the name Dread Wolf carries, he has earned. While we might visit the Fade, it is his natural home, and the spirits there serve him gladly.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

The Mortalitasi organised their own ritual to push the Qunari back home, using blood magic and binding spells. These types of magic are undoing the work Solas has set in motion, they’re a hinderance to his ritual. Therefore, the Dread Wolf made his presence known at the Grand Necropolis, in Nevarra, forbidding both types of magic, if anyone dare binds a spirit, or uses blood magic, your life is his for the taking.  

“And as clear as the Dread Wolf’s anger at what we had done— the Mortalitasi binding spirits he considered his own, the Tevinter mage using forbidden blood magic— was the feeling that we had disrupted his own work.” (TDWTY, Page 498).

“FROM THIS MOMENT, SHOULD YOU EVER BIND A SPIRIT, THEN YOUR LIFE IS MINE.” (The Dread Wolf Take You, Page 496).

So, clearly any magic that requires demons and spirits, or changes a spirit’s original purpose, is undoing Solas’s ritual. Most likely because the spirits of the Fade serve Solas willingly, they’re probably required in his ritual. Taking them away from that purpose, is undoing Solas’s work. Spirits and demons want the Veil to come down so many of them can pursue their desires to enter the physical world, so it’s no surprise they serve Solas freely.  

Regardless, what exactly is this ritual doing? It’s already affected the Fade.... So, is Solas slowly decaying the Veil over time? Is he reaching into the Black City? Does this ritual have something to do with the Old Gods? Is it in preparation for killing the Pantheon? Is Solas’s ritual going to take him back in time to restore the Elven Kingdom? So many ideas, very few answers.  

Also, to change the pace from the ritual. Let's say Solas is successful and the Veil is destroyed, how are the elves going to survive the Veil’s destruction? When talking to Charter, Solas tells her that the world will be better off for the remaining elves that survive. But how can anyone survive the Fade crashing into Thedas?

“I have no choice. What I am doing will save this world, and those like you— the elves who still remain— may even find it better, when it is done.” (TDWTY, Page 506).

Is Solas taking those he deems worthy to a safe place, so they can rebuild the elven empire once the Veil is no more? Is he building a metaphorical ark, gathering the elves, as his flood destroys all of Thedas? How can he guarantee safety to the elves? Surely, he has a plan for them to survive this calamity?  

Ultimately, more questions that we’ll need to answer for ourselves when Dragon Age 4 arrives. Although we still clueless on Solas’s ritual and the Red Lyrium Idol’s purpose, I can say; without doubt, that Solas has risen as the Dread Wolf. A lupin, evil creature that seeks the end of the Evanuris, and Thedas as we know it.  

Solas may think that his plan is for the greater good of his people, but I believe he’s naïve to the one who’s fundamentally been pulling the strings of his scheme all along. The one who has set his very purpose in motion, and that is Mythal. A Queen he would not see go unavenged, and someone he’d do anything to achieve justice for in her name.  

I believe this trust Solas has for Mythal will be the end of him, that he is nothing but a puppet to Mythal’s plan for vengeance. I believe this conquest for justice, will send Solas down a path of anger, decay, and ultimately death.  

The biggest threat against Solas is himself, as he admits, he’s foolish, prideful and doing what he must. Will we be the one to stop him before it’s too late, changing his mind?  Or will we grant him a finishing blow, silencing our once beloved friend?  

[searchingwardrobes]

The Convenient Groom: 1/?

Okay, I know what ya’ll are all thinking, and I agree: I don’t need another WIP! However, I woke up this morning with this idea, and I just had to write it. What’s more, I was looking for the perfect gift for @spartanguard​. You see, I missed her birthday last year. I got on tumblr, saw all these birthday wishes for her, and my heart sank. For some reason, I didn’t have her birthday on my list! I hated it because not only is she one of my favorite writers, but she is also an incredibly kind person who I have come to know as a wonderful fandom friend. So, @spartanguard​, I know it isn’t your birthday, but this fic is for you!

This fic has two inspirations: one, the Barenaked Ladies song “Alternative Girlfriend,” but mostly it’s a book I read called The Convenient Groom by Denise Hunter. I normally avoid book aus because it feels way too close to plagiarism, but a Hallmark movie was made from the book and it was a HUGE disappointment. They made it an engagement of convenience instead of a marriage and basically got rid of all the steamy moments. It’s been forever since I read it, anyway, and this first chapter that came to me this morning has vast differences already. Anyhoo, I hope you like it @spartanguard​ !

Summary: (Is one even necessary? Haha!) Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it also could mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that.

Rating: M

Words: 2,000 and some change in this chapter

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells​ @kmomof4​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @distant-rose​ @welllpthisishappening​ @optomisticgirl​ @ohmakemeahercules​ @teamhook​ @bethacaciakay​ @xhookswenchx​ @winterbaby89​ @delirious-latenight-laughs​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @vvbooklady1256​ @thislassishooked​ @hollyethecurious​ @nikkiemms​ @jennjenn615​ @stahlop​ @snidgetsafan​ @scientificapricot​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​  @wellhellotragic​ @tiganasummertree​ @branlovestowrite​ @let-it-raines​ @carpedzem​ @profdanglaisstuff​

Killian Jones would never forget the first day he met Emma Swan. He’d been focused intently on the rocking chair that the Nolans had ordered for their new baby, and AC/DC’s “Back in Black” was booming throughout his workshop. He always worked to classic rock; it put him in the best creative zone.

Suddenly, the shop was plunged into silence, and he straightened in surprise. Standing there, with the cord to his portable speakers dangling from her hand, was a veritable goddess with anger sparking from her light green eyes. She was dressed in a simple pair of dark wash jeans topped with a cream blouse, yet her trim figure still drew his eyes. He’d never had a thing for blondes, but her golden hair had him re-thinking that. She had caught him so completely off guard, he stood there gaping like a mere boy.

“I’ve got a client upstairs trying to pour her damn heart out, but I can barely hear myself think with this noise rattling the walls.”

Ah, so this was the new tenant in the office upstairs. Killian smirked and sauntered into her personal space. “Well, love, I’ve been told I’m rather good at rattling the walls.”

He hardly knew what had possessed him to say such a thing. Before Milah, he was well known for his charms, but that had been years ago.

The blonde narrowed her eyes at his innuendo, though the blush upon her cheeks sent a far different message. “Not your love, buddy.” She tossed the cords at his chest, and one of them slapped him in the jaw. “Get yourself some damn earbuds.”

She strode towards the door, her high heeled boots tapping loudly on the concrete floor. “It’s Killian Jones, by the way,” he called out after her, “Ms . . . “

“Emma Swan,” she tossed over her shoulder, “and it’s doctor.”

He saw her often after that. It was difficult not to. Storybrooke was a small town, and they shared office space, after all. Their building on Main was also right across the street from Granny’s diner, the only place for a decent cup of coffee and a cheeseburger. Or grilled cheese and onion rings in Swan’s case. They’d crossed paths during their lunch break often enough for him to know her regular order. Yet to say Emma Swan had walls was an understatement, and just casual conversation was a challenge. One he had a rather enjoyable time tackling, honestly.

Yet she never came into his wood shop again. Until one day six months ago, to put in an order. She had stood there in his lobby where he met with clients and rough sketched their custom orders looking uncharacteristically nervous, her hands twisting at her waist. He had noticed the diamond sparkling on her left ring finger early on, and she fiddled with it now. He had never met the man who had given it to her, which he had always thought was odd. Especially considering how passionate Emma was about her career. Even stranger, Mary Margaret had never met him either, and Emma rented the loft from her and David. No one even knew the man’s name. Something was off about that, if you asked Killian. Not that anyone would.

“Can you make a wedding chuppa?” she blurted out.

“Aye,” he said as he leaned against the front counter, “I made one for Marco and Granny when they wed last fall.”

“Good,” Emma breathed out, but then her forehead creased with worry. “Marco’s Jewish, isn’t he? Is it okay to use a chuppa if you aren’t Jewish?”

“Hmmm,” Killian contemplated, rubbing at his chin, “is your fiance Jewish?”

“No,” Emma said with a shake of her head, “but we’re getting married outside, and I wanted some sort of focal point, you know?”

“Well, then,” he told her honestly, “I do think a chuppa has religious significance, so maybe an arbor or archway would be more appropriate? I’ve done those as well . . . “

He had come around the counter then and led her to the sitting area where he brainstormed with clients. He had shown her photos of an arbor he had made for his friends Eric and Ariel’s beach wedding, and several other options online. He found out many things that day: the location of the wedding (the gardens behind the old mansion on the outskirts of town), the flowers (middlemist roses), the color scheme (pale pink and wine red), and the date of the nuptials (late June). Yet he still didn’t know who this mysterious fiance was. Odd.

“He doesn’t like the attention from my career,” Emma had attempted to explain, twisting her engagement ring around her finger, “and I get it. There would be a lot of scrutiny on him and our relationship.”

Killian nodded. Everyone knew about Dr. Swan’s bestseller Seriously, Ladies? which supposedly guided any woman on how to avoid disastrous relationships. Women swore by it, and Emma also had a blog and a podcast. The media was salivating over her upcoming marriage, including the identity of Mr. Right himself.

“And I need your discretion on this,” Emma continued. “The media doesn’t know the wedding date yet, and I -”

Killian placed his hand on hers. “You can trust me, Emma. I won’t tell a soul about this order, much less when or where it will be delivered.”

He had worried that his word wouldn’t be enough, yet Emma had deflated with relief. “Thank you. I know this is a weird situation.”

“You deserve happiness, Swan.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know that? You know nothing about me.”

Killian had shrugged. “You’re somewhat of an open book, love.”

It was true. Despite her confidence, he could recognize another wounded heart when he saw one. Whoever this fiance was, he wasn’t doing a very good job of healing it, either, at least in Killian’s opinion. Otherwise her eyes wouldn’t still hold that haunted look.

The order meant, for both good and bad, that Killian saw Emma Swan more often. It was good in that he got to know her better, saw her smile, heard her laugh. It was bad for one horrible, terrible reason. For him, at least. Six months was long enough for him to fall in love with her - the woman he was making a wedding arbor for.

Killian sighed, his heart twisting painfully, as he covered the gorgeous arbor of carved mahogany with a moving blanket. Today was the day. For him, it felt more like the day of a funeral than a wedding. This man, whoever he was, better love her the way she deserved. It was all he could hope for now.

“Killian, what the hell do you think you’re doing!” He whirled from the arbor to see Emma marching angrily across his workshop. The scowl on her face was identical to the one almost a year ago when he first met her. “Why did you send the moving crew away empty handed? Please tell me you finished it.”

“Of course I finished it, Swan,” he retorted, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. Wasn’t she supposed to be giddy, flushed with eagerness, floating on air? Instead, she looked so stressed he feared she might give herself a heart attack.

“Then why didn’t you send it to the mansion? Are you being difficult on purpose?”

Killian tilted his head and grinned saucily at her. He couldn’t help it, teasing her was just too much fun. “Though getting you riled up is rather fun, I wouldn’t do that to you on your special day. I just didn’t trust anyone but myself to deliver it.”

“Oh,” she said lamely, biting on her lower lip.

“I was just about to load it up, actually. Want to see it?”

“If it’s not too much trouble . . .”

“Of course not.”

He pulled the moving blanket off, revealing the dark wood with intricate carvings of flowers, vines, and swans. Though the occasion it celebrated tore at his heart, he had never put so much work into a piece. He poured the beauty of the woman it represented into every detail. Emma’s eyes lit up as she ran her hands over the woodwork. The caramel stain brought out the natural beauty of the wood, but it would also make the delicate blush of the roses pop once the florist draped the arbor with them.

“It’s beautiful, Killian,” she told him softly, “exactly what I told you I wanted. More, actually.”

“Thank you,” he managed to tell her around the sudden lump in his throat.

The moment was broken by the ringing of Emma’s phone. She fished it out of her jeans pocket and pressed it to her ear. Killian busied himself covering the arbor and preparing it for transport while Emma paced across his workshop.

“Walsh, are you insane?” he heard her snap, “Our wedding is only six hours away!”

Killian tried not to eavesdrop, but as he glanced Emma’s way, he saw her face grow pale.

“Seriously? You’re doing this to me now?” Though her voice was harsh, her body trembled as she sank to an empty crate next to the table saw.

Killian frowned. He didn’t like how this sounded.

“These are all things you could have told me yesterday!” Emma’s voice rose. “Or better yet, last week, last month.”

She glanced over at Killian, and her face turned bright red. She shifted so that her back was to him. She lowered her voice as she spoke into her phone, but Killian still heard her.

“Is there someone else?”

Killian’s jaw clenched as he saw her shoulders fall and then begin to shake. The bastard.

Her voice was broken as she choked out her next words. “Well I hope you’re very happy together.”

She hung up and dropped her cell phone. Killian winced as it hit the cement floor. She covered her face with both hands and wept silently. He crossed the room and gently placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What am I going to do?” she wept. “Oh, God! What am I going to do?” She turned to Killian, her eyes wide and frantic as she clutched at the front of his shirt. “We invited the media to the wedding! It was the only way to keep them from hounding us during our engagement. Now they’ll get an even better story - relationship guru Dr. Emma Swan gets jilted at the altar. I’m ruined! My career is over!”

She was on her feet, pacing the floor, tugging at the ends of her hair. He wanted to tell her she was overreacting, but he couldn’t lie. In this day and age of cancel culture and internet trolls, she would be ruined.

“You’re going to think I’m an opportunist,” she continued, “but my wedding day was also going to be the kick off for my next book. Tomorrow they’re announcing it’s release.”

“I’m not judging you, Swan,” he assured her. “What’s the new book?”

“Ladies, It’s More Than a Wedding,” Emma said sheepishly, “about how to plan for your marriage and not just the wedding.”

Emma groaned and dropped her head against the nearest wall. Killian was silent for a long moment, rolling an idea around in his head. She might shoot him down, call him crazy, but it was worth a shot.

“No one knows who your fiance is, right?”

She looked at him curiously. “No.”

“So . . . couldn’t anyone stand in for him?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Are you crazy? Once the media knew it was a farce, things would be even worse. I have interviews lined up already. A promotion tour for the book. It’s about more than just the wedding.” She barked out a laugh. “Isn’t that ironic?”

Killian leveled her with a steady gaze. “What if it wasn’t a farce?”

She blinked. “You mean . . . like, actually marry someone else? Today?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Emma let out another sarcastic chuckle. “Who the hell would agree to that?”

Killian wet his lips nervously. “I would.”

Emma shook her head in surprise. “You?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’m here, and I have nothing better to do today.”

“We’re talking about getting married, Killian. You know, commitment? Till death do us part?”

“Well,” Killian said slowly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, “you need to stay married to promote your book, right? What are we talking? Six months? A year, at most?”

Emma’s brow furrowed as if she were contemplating it. But then she shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this! It would never work! How would it look if I got divorced in a year?”

“Or an annulment. You could blame it on me. I cheated on you or something. Make me out to be the bad guy.” He chuckled sardonically. “You might even get another best seller out of it. Dump His Cheating Ass, Ladies.”

He managed to get a real laugh out of her at that, and he smiled. Her mirth was short-lived, however. “But why would you do that? Tie yourself to me for a year, let your own reputation be damaged? What’s in it for you?”

I’m in love with you.

“I could use your help. With my family. Professional help.”

Emma narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Okaaay. How so?”

“My brother and his wife. Their marriage is a little rocky.” LIe. Liam and Elsa were relationship goals if he ever saw it. “I think it’s because her sister Anna and her husband Kristoff had to move in with them.” Another lie. They had moved in, but no two sisters were closer than Anna and Elsa.

“So why don’t they just make an appointment?”

“They, uh, have this thing about therapy. They think it’s a sign of weakness. Or an embarrassment. Anyway, but if you were around, you could casually help them out. I think you and Elsa would hit it off.”

“So you want to marry me in exchange for free counseling for your brother and his wife?”

She sounded skeptical, and naturally so. He tried to play it off. “My brother means everything to me. He’s all the family I have left. Plus, my niece and nephew deserve a steady home life, unlike what we had as kids.”

Emma and Killian just stood there looking intently at one another. He held his breath, fully expecting her to call him crazy and walk out the door. Her gaze darted to the arbor, now ready to be loaded onto the trunk.

“It would be a shame not to use that beautiful piece you made.”

Killian tried to hold back his smile and failed. “Consider it my wedding gift to my bride.”

“Okay, groom,” she told him with her hand outstretched for him to shake, “it’s a deal.”

[mitchiemoo]

Close Up-Part 2 (Johnny Joestar x Reader)

Summary:  You are an upcoming, young actress, starring in your first major film. For publicity, the studio suggests you begin a relationship with your co-star, British thespian Diego Brando. Reluctantly, you agree, and soon find yourself at odds with Johnny Joestar, former Hollywood star. After losing his career and the use of his legs, Johnny offers to help you achieve fame but cautions the price. Is it really the fame you want? Or something else?

Warnings: Explicit Language

Word Count: 3,360

Part 1

Dating Diego Brando had its perks.

It had been little more than a month since you and he started dating, long enough for you to acquire a taste for the finer things wealth and status could provide. Expensive restaurants, glamorous parties, exclusive events, it seemed like nothing was too good for Diego. At first, it was overwhelming. Before every important event, he lavished you with elegant dresses and designer shoes. You tried to protest but Diego insisted, claiming you were now a part of his carefully cultivated public image. “All they know is what we choose to show them, darling.” He said. “They’ll never know the real you.”

If you were honest, sometimes it felt like you barely knew the real Diego. You were supposed to be his girlfriend, but you knew nothing about his personal life, his hobbies outside of acting, or even his family. In front of the cameras, he played the role of doting boyfriend so well that you almost forgot this was all part of some publicity scheme. His charisma as an actor was undeniable but as a person, he was cold and distant, sometimes even awkward.

At first, it seemed your fear of being defined by this relationship was coming to fruition. Just a day after the fundraiser, pictures of you and Diego together appeared all over social media with articles like “Brando’s Mystery Girl” and “Who is she?” Your Instagram followers practically doubled over night and when you walked onto set that day, a pair of studio executives greeted you enthusiastically. Apparently, the studio heads were very pleased with your relationship and commented on how smart you looked together. You had smiled politely and thanked them before heading to your dressing room to get into costume.

This was supposedly for your benefit, but it felt like you were reduced to glorified arm candy. On the red carpet, you’d smile at the cameras and feign interest in what Diego was saying to the reporters as you clung to his arm. Occasionally, they’d ask what designer you were wearing or how filming was going, but mostly you were ignored in favor of your British boyfriend. So you were ecstatic when the studio managed to book you a solo interview with talk show host, Panacotta Fugo. This was your chance to really show off your own charming personality and cement yourself as a rising star.

The ultimate “fuck you” to Johnny Joestar.

You hadn’t forgotten his hurtful words and arrogant demeanor. At least Diego dressed up his arrogance with politeness and snark. Johnny clearly didn’t care who he insulted. His words echoed in your mind every time you practiced your lines or smiled into a camera and it made you hunger for fame more than the vintage wine and stately mansions ever could. Diego had whetted your appetite, Johnny stoked it into full blown hunger.

You really hoped you didn’t run into him tonight. It was Steven Steel’s 54th birthday party and Diego received an invite, courtesy of Steven’s young wife, Lucy. Even if Johnny was there, the mansion and its crowd were so large you could probably hide in plain sight and never cross paths. That was one thing you hated about these Hollywood parties. It felt like you weren’t nearly famous enough to mingle with most of the people there. Small talk was painfully awkward, and most of the time you were happy to let Diego dominate the conversation.

Currently, you were standing in the living room of the Steel mansion, clutching a cold drink and listening to Diego passionately explain the differences between a utahraptor and a velociraptor to a very confused Lucy Steel. Frankly, you weren’t sure how the subject of dinosaurs came up or where Diego learned so much about them. You zoned out partway through the conversation. It was hot and loud, and your feet hurt from standing all night. At least you weren’t in heels. For a leading man, Diego was shorter than average and very self-conscious about his height. All the shoes he bought you were either flats or had a two-inch heel. Not that you minded. Especially when you went to events like these.

Lucy, bless her, seemed to notice your red face and tired eyes. “Oh, are you alright?” She asked, touching your arm. “You look faint, do you need to sit down?”

You nodded weakly. “Yes, please. It’s very hot in here.”

Diego wrapped an arm around your waist. “Do you need to go home, love?”

“No, I’ll be fine if I can sit somewhere quiet for a bit.” You croaked out.

Lucy tugged you out of his embrace and led you through the crowds and down a maze of hallways. How could someone live in a place so large? Did she ever get lost? It was just her and her husband, why did they need so much space? What if you couldn’t find your way back to the party? She turned, suddenly, and pulled you into a small sitting room with two couches, a glass coffee table, and some paintings on the light-colored walls.

“Please, sit down. I’ll let in some air.” Lucy said, scurrying over to one of the windows to the right. She was so sweet.

You sat down on one of the couches and pressed your glass against your forehead. Why did people stop carrying fans with them? “You don’t mind if I take off my shoes, do you?” You asked her.

“No, not at all. I took mine off ages ago.” Had she? You weren’t paying attention. Most of your mental energy was diverted to acting like you were enjoying yourself. You set your glass down on the table and slid out of your shoes. Much better.

“Stay here as long as you need to. I have to get back to the party.” Lucy said, apologetically. "It was nice meeting you."

“Oh, I’m sure Diego’s dying to finish his paleontology lecture.” You told her.

She failed to suppress her giggles. “He’s so devoted to you. You two make such a good couple.”

You resisted the urge to scoff and forced out a smile. Sometimes you forgot how your relationship appeared to others. Wholesome and loving, far from the pragmatic business deal it really was. You’d take it as a compliment. “Thank you, we’re very happy together.”

Lucy disappeared around the corner and you were left alone. You sighed and tucked your legs up underneath you. No one told you fame was lonely. It was isolating, being on the brink of stardom, knowing this role could make or break your career depending on how you marketed yourself. Were you really ready to tackle this interview all on your own? You’d been telling yourself this was what you wanted but would you know what to do? You desperately needed guidance, someone who understood what it was like.

“Oh, hey.”

You looked up and locked eyes with the last person you wanted to see tonight.

Johnny Joestar.

Shit.

Who invited him? Your heart pounded in your chest and suddenly the room felt like it was 100 degrees. Out of all the rooms in this place, he had to pick this one? And how had he managed to sneak up on you like that? A scowl crept onto your face and you moved to pick up your discarded shoes. Time to leave.

“Wait,” He said. “I’ve been lookin’ for you all night. But it’s hard to maneuver crowds in this thing.”

You crossed your arms. “What do you want? To humiliate me again?” You asked. He wouldn’t catch you off guard this time. If he started throwing insults, you’d retaliate with your own. At least, that’s how it went when you thought about it in the shower.

Johnny looked down at his lap and ran a hand through his wavy blond hair. “About that. I wanted to apologize for what I said at the fundraiser. It was completely out of line and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.”

Your expression softened a bit. He was…apologizing? You didn’t think someone like Johnny ever apologized. This definitely wasn’t in your shower script.

“I know this doesn’t excuse my behavior, but I’d been drinkin’ beforehand, and Diego brings out the worst in me. Seeing you with him made me mad ‘cuz I think you could do so much better.” He continued.

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you basically said I didn’t have ’star material.’”

“You don’t.” He said bluntly. “But you have potential, which is why I wanna help you.”

“I don’t want your help." You stated. "I forgive you for what you said at the fundraiser so don’t insult me further by saying I can’t do this on my own.”

“I’m not insulting you. I’m speaking from experience. Right now, you’re in a dangerous spot. What happens if Diego breaks up with you tomorrow? You haven’t established yourself yet so say good-bye to the fancy parties and red-carpet events. You’d lapse back into obscurity.” Johnny said.

“I’m more than just arm candy, you know. Next week I have an interview and Diego won’t be there.” You told him.

“Who’s it with?” Johnny asked.

“Uh, some guy named Panacotta Fugo.” You replied. “I mean, he’s not exactly Mariah Bastet but he has a decent following.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “Ain’t he on that really intellectual show where they talk about ‘the deeper meaning’ of films? I heard the guy’s a real Jekyll and Hyde. Super nice one minute and the next he’s rippin’ out your throat for using the word ‘less’ instead of ‘fewer.’”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. I can be very charming and intellectual.”

“See, this is what I mean.” Johnny said. “Doesn’t matter how charming you are. Interviews aren’t like acting, you don’t get a script. If you freeze under pressure or can’t think of a good answer, you’ll flounder around up there and make a fool of yourself.”

“How hard can it be? It’s a tv interview, not a master’s dissertation. All I have to do is answer a few questions about the movie, tell a few little stories, and look nice.” You knew what you were doing. You'd seen plenty of interviews before.

Johnny sighed and reached inside his dark blue suit jacket. He pulled out a pen and a paper napkin and started writing.

“What’re you doing? I don’t want your autograph.” You said.

Johnny shook his head and muttered something under his breath. He returned the pen to his pocket and wheeled over to you. “Here.” He held out the napkin. “It’s my phone number. If you change your mind, call me. No judgement.”

You searched his face. It was still set in a hard scowl but nothing in his expression suggested any sort of malice towards you. His eyes practically pleaded for you to take it. Was this his way of making up for his behavior at the fundraiser? A part of you wanted to accept. Johnny had been in the business a long time; he knew what he was doing. But your pride wouldn’t let you accept. You wouldn't be satisfied with success unless you were the sole reason for it.

“I said I don’t need your help. Keep it.” You said, hardening your expression.

“Christ, woman, take the damn napkin.” He replied. “I wanna help you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna make things right between us.”

“Fine.” You snatched the napkin from his grasp and grabbed your shoes off the floor. You couldn’t be in the same room as this man anymore. “The interview is at 8 o’clock Saturday night, if you’re interested.”

“I’ll be watching. Good luck.”

You stood up and brushed past Johnny. His eyes followed you out of the room, shoes in one hand, napkin clenched in the other. You weren’t sure whether to burn it or trash it. Burning it would be more dramatic, but Johnny himself belonged in the trash. You weren’t a charity case and didn’t Johnny himself say no one in the industry really cared about you. He’d eat his words. Or you’d eat yours.

-

You were surprised to learn the green room wasn’t actually green.

Instead, the walls were an off white, beige color and the floor tiles were made of linoleum. You were seated on one of the two black leather couches, anxiously fiddling with the plain gold bracelet around your wrist and bouncing your leg. There were a variety of drinks available, both hot and cold, and although you were thirsty, you didn’t want to miss your cue to go on-stage because you were in the bathroom.

Your eyes were glued to the tv screen in the corner of the room. It was tuned into commercials now which meant you were due to go on at any minute. Despite reassurances from both your agent and Fugo himself, your stomach was tying itself in knots. You weren’t intimidated by Fugo, who was very proper and polite despite his eccentric fashion sense and scholarly demeanor, nor were you worried about the crowd. You were worried about yourself. This was all you. You couldn’t just look pretty on Diego’s arm and let him lead the conversation. If you came off as aloof or empty headed, nothing would save you.

“We’re ready for you, miss.” One of the stagehands poked his head in and beckoned for you to follow.

With a shaky sigh, you stood up, glanced in the mirror on the opposite wall, and smoothed the creases of your dark skirt. Just breathe, you told yourself. This was no different from being on set with Diego and the director. There were just a few more cameras and a whole lot of extras.

You waited just off stage as the studio lights turned on and Fugo faced the cameras. “Welcome back, everyone.” He said coolly, adjusting his collar and straightening his tie. “Our next guest is a Hollywood newcomer. Starring alongside Diego Brando in one of the most highly anticipated movies of the year, please welcome…” Fugo announced your name to the crowd and the stagehand nudged you out onto stage.

You were greeted by a round of applause as you made your way across the stage to the empty armchair beside Fugo. He greeted you with a small smile and a strong handshake. “It’s so nice to have you here.” He said.

“Thank you for having me today.” You replied, settling into the chair.

“So, this is your first major movie role, correct?” You nodded. “How are you dealing with all the new attention? What’s it been like for you?”

You bit your lip as you tried to formulate an answer. “Oh, it’s been difficult to adjust but I’m lucky to be surrounded by supportive people.”

“That’s important. You need people like that to keep you grounded.” Fugo shuffled the papers on his desk and you visibly relaxed. If all the questions were this easy, you could totally handle this. “Phantom Blood is one of my favorite novels. Robert E. O. Speedwagon weaves such a compelling narrative and Norisuke Higashikata is such a revolutionary director, I’m very excited to see how he’s going to adapt the pervasive themes of social inequality and classism. Can you tell us about that?”

What.

You thought this was a typical Victorian love story with supernatural elements. Classism? Social inequality? Sure, Elena’s love interest, Dorian, is a poor tailor who leaves her to seek fortune in India and his rival, Jonah, is a wealthy merchant who deals in exotic goods, but you certainly weren't aware of any major societal commentary. There were vampires, for Christ's sake.

Your silence prompted Fugo to clear his throat and ask another question. “Are you a fan of the book too?”

You laughed, nervously. “Well, I was supposed to read the book in high school, but it was super long, so I just used SparkNotes to pass the quizzes.”

Dead silence. Your heart sank and the laughter died in your throat. Why wasn’t anyone laughing? Usually anecdotes like that got a huge laugh out of the crowd and showed how endearing and relatable you were. This had the complete opposite effect. Now you looked like a vapid, lazy, slacker who didn’t care about the source material at all.

Fugo looked genuinely offended. “You’ve never read the book?” He asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Well, I, uh.” You tried to stutter out an explanation. “Th-the, um, writing was hard to follow, and the author kept going off on these weird tangents that didn’t have anything to do with the plot.”

“Those ‘tangents’ are part of the stream of consciousness narrative that Speedwagon as an author is so known for.” Fugo stated. “How are you supposed to faithfully portray Elena as a character if you haven’t read the source material?”

Your heart was pounding in you ears and you felt sick to your stomach. Fugo was making you feel like a complete idiot and you were proving him right. What were you even supposed to say? You couldn’t bullshit or make something up, he’d know. You took a deep breath and swallowed. Calm down. Stuttering and blurting out incomplete sentences would only make things worse. “As an actress,” you started. “I feel like an adaptation of any work should be able to stand on its own without having to access the source material. It should be judged by its own merit as a film, not by how well it adapts the book.”

You wrung your hands together in your lap as you watched the gears in Fugo’s head turn. “Of course, changes will have to be made.” He said. “But at what point does it cease to be an adaptation and instead take on a different identity? If the characters have the same names but wildly different personalities, can they really be considered the same characters?”

“I-I don’t know.” You were practically shamed into silence.

Fugo was still talking. “Say, if you wanted to adapt a Shakespeare play, let’s say Macbeth, and instead of being strong-willed and clever, Lady Macbeth was a passive character who wasn’t invested in her husband’s plot to take over Scotland or he was a content courtier with no ambitions.” Suffice to say, you hadn’t read that book either. “Isn’t your co-star, Diego Brando, a Shakespearean trained actor? What would he think?”

He was probably enjoying this. You could practically see him propped up in his bed, wearing a smoking jacket and a smug look on his face. He was probably drinking some expensive red wine that cost more than your rent and the next time he saw you; he’d chastise you for going off script like this. Diego claimed you weren’t ready for something like this when you’d told him but said he wouldn’t stop you from doing it if you were determined. Maybe you should've listened...

Tears welled up in your eyes. No, you wouldn’t cry. Not on camera. But the lump in your throat was right there and if you answered, you knew you’d lose your composure. Hadn’t you been humiliated enough? You just wanted to go home and die.

Your saving grace came in the form of one of the producers. He turned Fugo’s attention away from you and pointed at his watch.

His mood changed so fast it gave you whiplash. “Time for a commercial break everyone. Our next guest will be on…”

As soon as the lights dimmed, you rushed off stage and back to the green room to grab your things. That was a train wreck. A complete mess. You sneaked out the back door and hailed a cab. The tears were falling freely now, and the cab driver gave you a sympathetic look as you choked out your address. At that moment, you were questioning your whole career.

You reached into your purse and fished out a tissue. You went to wipe at the tears before you noticed how thick it was. It was a napkin and there was writing on it. Oh. You completely forgot about that. In blue ink was a number and a name.

202-555-0797

Johnny Joestar

You swallowed your pride and dialed the number.

-

Tumblr doesn’t seem to like me. Maybe it’s because I’m new but my posts never seem to show up under the tags. Oh well. I update this story on Ao3 every Friday night if you wanna check me out over there. Thanks for reading!

[pikachu78109]

After Thoughts on Pokémon SwSh ((SPOILER HEAVY! TREAD CAREFULLY))

Okay, wow. So, I played and finished the main story in two days (I had so much free time after college classes) and I managed to power through the game in no time at all. Right now, I am doing post game, but I’ll save that for another time. For now, I want to address my overall thoughts on the main story and some of the pros and cons that this Gen has brought. Spoiler heavy content incoming!

Pros

1) The region is f*cking gorgeous!

When the Pokémon team really puts their mind to it, they create Galar to look really beautiful. From past generations, most of the town weren’t really towns, they looked like villages. And though the cities looked big like in Gen 5, 6, and 7, Gen 8 really pushed itself with its graphics and made the design of the towns and cities looks massive and eye catching. The colors pop and the things that stand out really stood out, such as MotoStoke, Wyndon, Hulbury, and Hammerlocke. These games are just so gorgeous to look at!

2) The Wild Area

Grinding as never been as fun when you’re in the Wild Area. Not only can you Dynamax your Pokémon when approaching as Power Spot, you can encounter rare Pokémon and Camp and do some serious training before the next Gym Match. I used this area a lot when playing through this game, and I have collected so many Berries and items and even battled some Pokémon to level up my team. This area has a functional use and something worth mentioning because I found this area to be extremely helpful whenever I need a bit of grinding. There are a few Trainers, heck there’s even a nursery if you want to drop off a couple of your Pokémon there, and they do sometimes give you items in exchange for Watt power. It depends on how much though, but you could get some rare items from them, if possible. Overall, a really great addition!

3) A Good Cast of Characters

Galar has so many characters and the majority of them are pretty good! While there are a few that I felt could’ve been stronger or competent even, most of the characters have different personalities and each one displays vast characteristics that make them stand out. Marnie, Bede, and Hop were great rivals and each one had a personal goal and under went character growth (Bede especially) as the story continued. Other characters like Sonia were present in the story and offered more to the plot, like telling about the legends in Galar or assisting you on your way. Leon was a character who was present most of the time and was a great Champion. Most of the Gym Leaders were unique in their own way (some more than others) and gave Gym Missions that could either frustrate you or not. It’s definitely not like Gen 7 where the cast gets involved one way or another, but in Gen 8, the cast never felt forgettable and had something to offer.

4) The Soundtrack Is Good

If I can pull a Trugreen 7 here, the music in this generation was pretty good. It brought a lot of life to the region and gave it atmospheric energy. My favorites include the Slumbering Weald, the Gym Leader theme, Chairman Rose’s theme, and Hop’s Battle theme to name a few. The Wild Area gets hit with a blast of bagpipes, giving it a distinct identity apart from the routes, cities, and towns. When the OST for this game comes out on iTunes, I’m definitely going to download some of these tracks!

5) Very Immersive

The attention to detail on the games bring out the immersion was pretty good. There’s definitely some humanity to the main character and there are a few things that accompany that. The Pokémon Camp mechanic was a great way to play with your Pokémon, make curry, and even invite other players to join your Camp. Not only that, but you could visit any nearby Pokémon Camps and interact with the Trainer’s Pokémon if you so wished. There’s a lot of upgrades to the character customization where you have a lot of options to choose from, from clothes to hair, so you could give your player character some identity that’s unique to you or look like you. The Power Up Spots found in the Wild Area invites players to join in a battle against a Dynamaxed Pokémon, so the use of teamwork and connecting with other players helps bring out more usage to the Dynamax mechanic. The region can get pretty easy to get sucked into and it shows.

Cons

So, now that I covered some of my personal favorite pros, I will now discuss some my personal cons that I have with this game. Keep in mind that these cons are of my personal opinion and maybe you might disagree, which is perfectly fine! Anyway, here they are!

1) The Story was Lackluster

As a new game on the Switch, the build to the story was something that I was looking forward to. I mean, there have been leaks about the story that were more like rumors, but they sounded really interesting and it got me hyped for the games. After playing through the story, it wasn’t much. The story, for the most part, was hardly a story. You’re just going around Galar, competing in the Gym Challenge and stopping whatever obstacles that come your way, such as Team Yell. Plot wise, there’s nothing. And when I mean ‘nothing’, I mean that the plot didn’t attribute to anything spectacular. The ending to the story felt very anti-climatic with the whole Eternatus situation and could’ve been handled better with the proper timing or with a better build up. Eternatus does not get mention much throughout the entire story and we are led to assume that Eternatus is the cause of The Darkest Day. That detail felt super unclear to me and I couldn’t tell what the f*ck was going on until the very last half of the game. I will get into more of that later, but for now all I can say is that I liked the leaked rumors more than the actual story we were given.

2) Chairman Rose Is A Weak Antagonist

Why? WHY?! As much as I like his battle theme, Chairman Rose is such a dumb antagonist! Listen, I know that villains in Pokémon can either be weak or great, but it all boils down to their motivation. Their motivations have to at least make some sort of sense, even if it is mediocre or half assed. Chairman Rose’s motive is all based around semi good intentions that can be similar to Lusamine’s from USUM. However, Chairman Rose doesn’t seem entirely aware of what he is doing and jumps into whatever scheme that he thinks might work and help all of Galar. Instead, his plans come off as lazy and last minute. We don’t get any occurrences to his antagonistic intentions because we are devoted to our Gym Challenge while Rose hides behind the shadows. To his credit, he would have to be the most sane antagonist in all of Pokémon and does turn himself in afterwards, so clearly he knew that he f-ed up. That being said, he would have to be the weakest Pokémon villain in my book and I would’ve preferred his secretary Oleana to be the villain instead.

2) Oleana Should Have Been the Main Antagonist

Like I said, Oleana should have been the main antagonist in these games. From the get go, she gave off so many red flags for being a character with less than good intentions but was actually a supposed Admin instead. I mean, she gives off so many bad vibes that I almost believed that she was the antagonist, not Rose. This was just a missed opportunity to me, because in the final stretch of the games, you get a bunch of Macro Officers who supposedly started a fan club surrounding Oleana. Like, wtf?! If you’re lackeys are going to making a fan club dedicated to you, then that has to say something. Oleana has always been a character that just had a cold expression on her face, but she’s left in a position that should’ve been rectified. Once again, this was a missed opportunity.

3) The Champion Battle Could’ve Been Better

As much as I adore Leon, the Champion battle against him didn’t feel as challenging as I hoped it would be. Instead, it almost felt like Gen 6 all over again with me almost knocking out his team completely with little to no effort involved. And he’s supposed to be the ‘undefeated’ Champ in Galar! Shouldn’t he be challenging? Shouldn’t he give me a hard time by providing moves that could put my team in a bind? There’s not much I can say about this other than the fact that this battle could’ve been better. I don’t know about other players, but from this experience, the Champion battle didn’t feel, well, Champion enough.

Final Thoughts

Okay, final thoughts. Obviously, I do have a lot more to say about Pokémon SWSH, but I didn’t want this post to become a lengthy essay. There were definitely some step ups and it’s clear to see where the steps were made to creating this game. Despite the controversy surrounding this Gen, I hope that this generation gets recognized beyond that. There are good things about this game that I pointed out, but there were also some things that felt rushed or didn’t make much sense.

I can’t say that I regret buying these games, because I am glad that I went to Galar and experienced many things from that region. Still, the things that stood out poorly really did show, which is a bummer because these were missed opportunities that could’ve made the games a lot stronger. I don’t think that Gen 8 is a bad game (heck I place that title onto USUM) but it’s definitely in a mixed bag with me.

If I were to rate this game on a scale of 1-10, I would give a 6/10, mainly because of weak story but accompanied with beautiful visuals and a decent cast of characters. The game does have some replay value but I believe that I might restart my game and play through everything all over again. That’s how I usually roll.

Recommending this game to other players would be difficult given the reputation this game has, but as a Switch game, it does an okay job. I just hope that the next games will have more effort and something to look forward to without any unnecessary drama to blacklist it. I can only dream.

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

Unfinished Fic: Not Nearly Insane Enough, Up Insanity 65%

April 1st

As captain of the sophmore class as well as a second year member of the dance committee, Anna was thrilled to have the chance to be in the leading group for an event finally. The older members were more focused on their Homecoming and Prom which left the other quarterly dances to the younger year levels and the redheaded cheerleader was quick to get her ideas in and down on paper. In ink. So nobody could go against her and her quickly building idea for a truly romantic and special evening - one specifically tailored so her not-quite-boyfriend could not get out of going with her once again.

Thus far he had had an appendix out the week before the winter dance, come down with glandular fever over her birthday, gotten a case of tonsillitis for the return to school pep rally and somehow got himself gastro two hours before he was supposed to take her out on a proper date. But this time? This time would be different. Nothing was going to be left to chance.

The color scheme was turned towards one of his favorites rather than the light blues and pastels normally introduced for the Spring Fling, the event was made on a night she knew he would want to be out of the house away from his siblings, and she went one step further and talked the rest of the commitee into approving the ‘ladies choice’ idea so he couldn’t duck by inviting someone else. And being part of the event runners, Anna would know before anyone else who might dare get in her way that she needed to be the one asking him. Now all that was left was to do the actual asking…

April 3rd

There was one problem with going to school with your siblings and cousins, and that was how hard it was to avoid being responsible for their actions or being the mediator between squabbles in public. Even if they were the same age as you. Jack Visyak was so sick of this happening - especially as he was being dragged through the halls by his shirt cuff by his younger sister Shada to “speak with big brother about missing classes this morning! Mr. Singer asked me about it and he’s kind of big and loomy sometimes and his breath smells like Jeff’s after a long weekend, so you need to yell at him so I don’t get talked to any more.”

Neither of the Visyak siblings had known for months where his brother hid during the day, not until Jack became friends with a slightly strange girl from his metal work class who turned out to be who Jeff spent a lot of his day with. The two of them rounded the corner of the of the gym to find their much taller brother leaning against the wall, a bottle at his feet and a rare laugh coming out of his mouth as the blonde girl with him seemingly was trying to bend over backwards with a giggle even as the taller man threw a bottle cap at her.

“Jeff, what the hell are you doing?!” The shrill shout from the dark haired girl made Jack cringe, the notes she could reach were sometimes truly terrifying.

The girl stumbling and laughing jumped at the sharp noise before tripping over her own feet and collapsing to the ground, looking up from under her hair with a dopey grin on her face. “Hey! What are you guys doin’ round 'ere? What time is it? Jackie, do we hav’ to go to class now?” Jo Harvelle flicked her gaze between the other two Visyak siblings as she tried to untangle her feet and kick out at the cackling older boy near her with a small frown slowly cutting down her buzz.

“Seriously, why are you two here? You know if I’m here I don’t want to deal with you lot.” Jeff looked back at his younger siblings as he barely reacted to the blonde girl’s movements. Jo Harvelle had been something of a friend, if you could call the alcohol, occasional make out sessions and cutting school a friendship, for the last two years, ever since he stumbled across her ditching class in her second year with a bottle of whiskey and a small bag from her brother’s excess stash. “Fuck off the both of you, I don’t have class for another hour.”

Jack sighed at the both of them, a hand wrapped around to cover his sister’s mouth before shooing her away with a thinly veiled suggestion that he’d call their cousin Ian to come and hang out with her if she didn’t go, before he approached. “Shada got yelled at by Singer about your tardy, asshole. You know better than to ditch classes we have the teacher for, and I can’t think you were doing anything more important.” The look he sent between his obviously annoyed brother and the girl he considered a close friend was borderline judging as his brother tried to help Jo up with a careless hand while she stumbled, with the occasional muffle of laughter. “Jo, you should probably come with me, our class is in an hour and you could probably use some sobering up…”

“Like she’s ever really sobered up, am I right runt?” Jeff cut in with a nasty smirk on his face, a slap aimed at the blonde’s ass as she laughed and snorted loudly moving towards his younger twin. It was something of a sore spot between the two of them the fact they were twins but so very different - not just in height, build and strength but in their entire personality and approach to life, at least on the surface. “Course, she could just skip your little class like last week, but I won’t tempt her away from you, Jackieboy. This time.”

Jo span at Jeff’s hand, her hands caught around his wrist and giving his skin a firm twist in retaliation before she moved closer to the shorter of the pair, her fingers clumsily wrapping up in his shirt to keep her balance. “Can’t I skip? Please, Jack? I might end up hurting myself, or you or blowing something up! Oh, can I blow something up? Or practice my cartwheels? Can I can I can I?” The other man had finished off the last of the bottle of that week, barely another shot before he tossed the empty bottle into the dumpster nearby as he headed the opposite way, while Jack took Jo’s shirt from her.

He wrestled the fabric out of her grasp easily, a brief pause before they moved into sight from the side of the gym while she slid her arms in and he brushed her back off. Jo ran her hand over her hair only to be replaced by his as they headed out, Grey shook his head in response as he draped his arm over her shoulder - internally glad there was someone actually short even by his standards. “Don’t worry, you’re fine.”

April 7th

Practice was just about to finish when the fight broke out, almost an expected occurrence these days as the tall, slender blonde and the shorter red-head launched at one another across from either side of the pyramid, not caring that the entire structure of girls collapsed down into a pile as they did so. Anna was determined to discover just how Lilith had gotten the Captain spot above her, yet it was when she overheard the other saying to her best friend that she was thinking of asking 'the sexy tight end’ to the Spring Fling, she ironically saw red.

Of course, the sight of two cheerleaders rolling about on the ground was enough to bring an early end to the football practice running at the same time. Jeers and a few bets were placed while the coaches of both teams tried to wrestle one girl into control.

“What the fuck is your problem, you psycho slut?” The almost shrill tone wasn’t often heard within the blonde girl’s voice, Lilith being torn away and her arms pinned back by the football coach Mr Turner.

Anna merely hissed back at her and spat at the ground at her feet with a feral snarl as Ms Mills dragged her back as well. “You stay away, or I’ll cut those augmented bags out of your chest for candy dishes!” The redhead was normally no where near as aggressive, but as she heard the lazy chuckle of one of the said tight ends and that just spurred her on - knowing the few times she’d let him catch her for anything more than grinding that a few choice words would send him crazy. “If I catch you, I swear to God that I will fuck your shit up, Lilith, so much so your bitch of a girlfriend won’t even be able to help you! Oh wait, you supposedly don’t like girls you fucking who-”

“Enough!” The shout came from Turner as he clamped a hand over the blonde’s mouth to silence the response. “The both of you, silence! Pack your bags and go straight to the principal’s office, you’ve ruined both the cheerleader and football practice with whatever you two are fighting about, so just go."

The walk between field and office was tense enough without the assistant coach’s occasional deep sigh as the three made their way towards the offices. There had been an intense rivalry between the two for some time - driven by their older brother’s competition back when the pair were still at the school, Anna’s older brother Michael and Lilith’s brother Alastair would often end up sent to the office just as the younger pair were at that very moment. Of course they were a lot louder between classes and on the endless walks towards the cherry wood door than the girls were, but neither - so far as Turner had noticed, that was - had attempted to dislodge the other’s underwear on the way as the blonde seemed to revel in as some twist on revenge.

"Now, you both sit here and keep your hands to yourself.” The glare the dark skinned male addressed to the pair focussed particularly on the Morningstar girl as she snapped her hand back to herself as both Lilith and Anna sat. There was no more communication between the two as they waited, only the tick of the clock across the other side of the otherwise silent waiting room made a noise. Day seven and already in the office, it was a record for the sophmore but not one she was exactly proud of, and she just hoped her punishment would be to do with doing extra hours around the school - she could use the time to work on the banners for her Spring Fling.

April 8th

It was tradition - first Saturday of every month was Raid Night, and thus far there had been no raiding. A point which seemed lost on all the collective group except for Victor, and as the chubby cheeked senior let out another cry about how his next door neighbour’s adoptive sister had gotten 'that much hotter’ when she trounced him at Magic over Winter break, the dark skinned boy could tell there was a while to go and reached for the beer the rest were too chicken to drink.

“You know I would totally ask her to the dance, right, but..” Harry Spangler trailed off with a shrug of his shoulder, drinking from his soda can rather than finish the sentence with the obvious ending of 'its girl’s choice’. The endless woes of his attempted courtship of his next door neighbour had been brought up at least once every raid for the last year and a half - and none of the suggestions given had shown any signs of success.

Sam Winchester let out a grunt of commiseration  moving his tank back towards Jack’s healer as the others mages and rogues went forward. “Jess hasn’t been picking up on any of my suggestions either. I asked her if she’d seen the sign, and if she was excited about the first dance back, and nothing. She just said she was and then asked me what I thought of the law studies class earlier!”

“Least she talks to you man.” Harry’s bitter tone brought a smile out on every boy’s face aside from Castiel who looked confusedly around at them all before deciding to just take his newly found potion and lead the rest toward the next chamber after he defeated the last bot nearby.

Jack finished his task on Sam’s character before the pair caught up with the rest, moving through the level with practised ease as they all talked. “At least you’ve got a girl you’ve got an eye o-” He cut off at the round of laughter and snickering that comment inspired in the other’s, shifting in his seat and readjusting his glasses awkwardly until they stopped. “What the hell was that about?”

“Just your denial.” Victor finally added his two cents to the conversation, his fingers flew across the keyboard rapidly as he engaged their next target as the other’s nodded and kept speed. “Everyone knows your jonesing for that lesbian drunk girl.”

“Dude! She’s like my little sister, some tact.” The tallest of the group growled out, sounding like a dead ringer for his older brother for a moment. “But he’s right, Jack, everyone knows you want something more with Jo if the number of times I’ve heard Mrs. Harvelle shouting to Mom about her going missing and running off to your house is anything to go by.” Sam took a large gulp from his own drink as his character cut through another of their enemies and helped Cas to retrieve a few experience points with a higher level bot.

Jack hisses quietly to himself as he keeps his eyes focused on the screen, waiting until the last moment to help Victor for his comment. “She isn’t a drunk. Or a lesbian.” Hearing Harry choke on his own drink, already preempting the comment on that for stories, the blue eyed boy cuts him off quickly. “She and..my brother are close. So it’s not always because of me she’s 'running off to my house’, Winchester.”

“Your brother?” The interjection is the first of Cas’ for the night, his own character coming to a stand still in the middle of their current fight, though seemingly going untouched by their enemies in the strange way his always does. “As in the Jeffrey Visyak that my sister is dating? Why would he know if Joanna was a lesbian or not; are he and her that close a friends she would divulge such a thing?”

It was moments like this the room always got awkward. Castiel’s inability to pick up on the subtleties of suggestion and innuendo were always awkward or hilarious, though more often than not the first. Theres a long moment where none of the boys do anything but pause the screen and stare over the tops of their laptops at the dark haired boy before Jack speaks up again quietly, “I don’t want to talk about it, Cas.”

“Well, lets not talk about Visyak’s failed attempts at wooing his little non-lesbian love and focus on killing some of these god damn sons of bitches before curfew?” Piping up, Victor restarts their screens, effectively silencing any further comments on the dance. At least until Harry starts up again about Maggie.

April 11th

The cover story of her Thursday afternoon study group had been operating well in advance and for the last five months. ijbeisdbfd

Anna asks Gray to the dance through the use of dirty talk and promises and extremely controlling comments about what would happen to any girls who asked him otherwise. If he agrees to go with her he can do something they haven’t done, while if he agrees to go and agrees to be her boyfriend publicly then they could do whatever it was he wanted whenever it was he wanted as part of the 'boyfriend privilages’ and teasing that if he doesnt she’ll just get together with someone else, someone /better/ than him

April 15th

“..six..seven..eight. Up, and two..and three..and four..” The timing is slightly different to those used by the actual squad during practice, but working by herself in the backyard - away from any of her brother’s or cousin’s windows - the freshman works diligently on trying to perfect the balance needed to pull off the foot lifts. Shada had heard one of the team members was about to change schools, a little hint shared from her older brother at one of his more accommodating moments, and was determined to be the one to fill the spot.

Twisting and bending, the dark haired girl sets both feet back on the ground before  gfchtf

Shada practices in the backyard near the pool for cheerleading tryouts secretlylate at night and busts Jo climbing the tree to go into Grey’s room. Course she decides the way to catch attention is to throw her shoes so both girl’s end up having a snarking match with Shada picking at why she looks like she’s been tossed out and crying so much before Eleanor hears them and drags both girls inside after hearing a splash from Jo throwing the both of them in the pool in retaliation

April 19th

Ruby and Lilith dare Shada as a hazing prank to ask Harry to the dance - but when Grey realises tells her not to be a bitch about it and that if she does he’ll get Gray to make things hell for her 'friends’

April 21st

A Saturday morning at the Visyak’s house with Anna having stayed over for the first time and feeling awkward with Eleanor and Shada and Swian (whose staying with them while his parents are overseas) and Gray, until Grey comes stumbling in with Jo over his shoulder, giggling and mucking about. Anna and Jo haven’t really interacted at all before and has a minor freak out privately which Gray drags her upstairs to 'take care of’ after realising how easily the other fits in and Anna feels a bit outcasted; she proceeds to decide to start a campaign to humiliate Jo at the dance in revenge

April 22nd

The GeekSquad play again and really bemoan the lack of girls, Grey gets rolling drunk even though he’s their healer because Jo hasn’t picked any of the hints after Sam spends a good ten minutes babbling about Jess and how she asked him through prose and how pretty her hair was and Harry was pestering Grey with questions the entire time about Shada sort of sticking it in

April 23rd

Shada wanted to go dress shopping and talked Jo and Anna (who aren’t friends) into going with her by blackmailing to spread some of the things and photos and such she’s gotten from the girls staying over. Anna looking for dresses herself while Jo spent most of the time mucking about on her phone (sending pics to Gray/Harry/Grey/Ian for fun) or pulling hideous dresses out for fun until Shada and Anna had both found things and decided to play dress up (doing the same to her)

April 25th

Eleanor has a heart to heart with her sons about the girls, expresses major concerns about Anna’s behavior and also Jo’s but for different reasons.

April 27th

Anna/Gray go to the dance and are having a great time (and by that I mean Anna’s having a good time and Gray is drinking from a flask behind her back while Anna tries to organise her scheme to embarrass Jo (who she gets sour that doesn’t arrive) as well as get in another cat fight with Lilith); Lilith has spent the whole time trying to get Alastair to help her tormenting and making scathing remarks at other girls and then him to scare off the angry boyfriends, Sam and Ruby actually showed up together and Dean spends the night stalking them around and jumping in to seperate them a foot during slow dances; Shada wins whatever prize thingie for the night and Anna ends up doing the crappy-Carrie-copy-cat (its just a bucket of water, cause they’d made Jo buy a white dress for the night to make Jo’s dress go see-through was the plan) to her instead and Harry gives her his jacket to hide under and warm up.

Grey shows up at Jo’s house in his jeans and tshirt and hoodie with a plastic bag with him and says that since she hasnt asked him yet he was going to turn up on her step in a dress so he could ask her instead but he’d rather not have to so could she please just ask him so they could go, they could dance, they could spike the punch as well as Gray and Lilith’s inevitable doses, they could sneak out and spend most of it out on the oval, and maybe when he came to walk her home he might be able to kiss her if she was okay with that but if she wasnt that it was totally cool and he’d just give her a hug instead. At which point Jo kind of just laughs and tells him to skip to the end and come upstairs to watch Star Wars but not watch most of it. “Except the scene with the trash compactor. Kissing and making out might be good, but there are some things better than sex and that scene is one of them.”

[bladekindeyewear]

Boots Reads Homestuck Epilogue(s) Part 14 - Candy Page 27

==>

Alright, back from a brief excursion.  I really, REALLY wanna fucking finish this.  I want to see ROXY UNZOMBIFIED goddamnit, or at least get a REASON for her zombification, even if it’s just some Dirk-like villain who just cliffhangers himself away like a fucking asshole.

Also, comment on John’s whole rant... I guess John DID kind of want to be important.  Or... well, not “important” per se, but rather at least impactful in his friends’ lives.  It feels like they’re all walking dead through their own unsolved problems, trying to put on a pretty face, and nothing he tries to do matters, even attempted kidnapping.  He feels as useless as Dirk THINKS he is, but he never really was.  Gosh, I wish he’d pulled off that absurd kidnapping.  Freeing people from this sort of thing is supposed to kind of be his jam?

Okay, reading the new page.

FUCK.  TEN YEARS???????

Pff, John’s kid and sorta!Vriska.  Yeah I can buy that.

Also I love how they type out “Harry Anderson” every single time as his full first goddamn name.

--God damnit, how is Gamzee still fucking things up ten years later?  Hasn’t someone considered killing him?

Karkat and Meenah, also unsurprising.  Too bad Dave has to die unsatisfied.  >:(

Hm... this sorta!Vriska also has a weird Capitalization Quirk for Important Words, huh?  --Oh right, Kanaya raised her.  That might do it.

Hm, eyepatch?

Alright, the world’s falling into chaos.  Did the world HAVE to fucking fall into chaos in BOTH TIMELINES where these supposedly-went-through-a-successful-journey heroes managed to eek out victory despite opposing reality’s greatest tyrant?  Pfuh.

--and right.  Alt!Callie reinforces the idea that even though this possibility “wasn’t canon” -- which... means Meat is?? D: -- that the lives within still matter when looked at within their own bubble.

JADE: while abstracted heavily, and fully freed from all forces of narrative gravity, these events still represent possibilities that slept within the hearts of all who reside here.

Mhmm, part of an extension of themselves, their uniqueness, their hopes and dreams and... whatever WHOEVER did to fuck Roxy over.  Jesus DICK what’s happened to her I need to know you’d better fix this.

And somewhere within that mess, John Egbert is the best man at Jade and Dave’s wedding. He lasts nearly two hours before he gets a ruinous case of the sniffles.

Maybe they worked it out into ALMOST full mutual love?  Even if Dave’s 70% gayness goes totally unsatisfied?  I mean, I can hope, right?  :(

Dammit, Jade, couldn’t you have done this properly?  :C

and everyone knows that John has lost his family to Jane Crocker.

What the shit?!???

What drove Roxy away was him being depressed and just an all-around huge wet blanket who was impossible to live with. John is totally ready to own the fact that he was a bad husband, but maybe not the fact that he was a bad enough husband to drive his wife to passively support a brewing genocidal dictatorship. She looks happier, though, whenever he’s caught sight of her behind Jane—Calliope faithfully at her side—in any of the propaganda broadcasts that Jane passes off as business press conferences. By the time Roxy finally cut things off between them, he hadn’t personally seen her smile in years.

WHAT.  THE.  SHIT.

WHY DID ROXY DO ALL THIS THEN.  WHY DID SHE OF ALL PEOPLE, ONE OF THE MOST FORCEFUL AND SMART AND COOL--- GUHHH SHE JUST VOIDED HER WILL JUST OUT OF OBLIGATION TO JOHN OR SOMETHING?????????? WHAT THE FUCK WHYYYYYYY

Characters choke.  Characters make bad decisions.  That’s fair.  Andrew’s said that before.  But John was VISIBLY RECOGNIZING HOW OUT OF CHARACTER ROXY WAS ACTING.  WHYYYYYYYYY DID IT HAPPEN, WHY SUDDENLY DECADES OF MISHANDLED RELATIONSHIP WITH ABSOLUTELY NOBODY POINTING OUT THE OBVIOUS WHAT THE FUCK.  AND ROXY WAS THE ONE WHO STARTED IT AND PUSHED INTO JOHN UNTIL HE ACCEPTED.  WHY.

WHY.

Read.  Calm down.  Read.  There had better be.  A FUCKING.  ANSWER.

Hi military rebellion leader Karkat.

KARKAT: OH MY GOD JOHN, STOP BEING SO FUCKING PATHETIC FOR JUST A MINUTE. COULD YOU DO THAT FOR ME? JOHN: i don’t know. that’s a pretty big favor you’re asking me there, karkat.

heheh

JOHN: i dunno. it doesn’t seem responsible, really... to dedicate my life to something so important when i’m in a place where i can’t even find the energy to think that getting out of bed in the morning is “important.”

Depression stuff, yeah.

John really needs a psychologist who isn’t just Rose.

pff, yifftrain.

That’s how the years pass. Faster and faster the longer it goes. 

What.  The.  Fuck.

We’re not going to get any answers are we.  Roxy just acted out of character for no reason, didn’t she.  This is-- no, Andrew’s too GOOD at this for that to-- I mean--  is there a big answer he’s just not telling us-- FUCK!!!!  D:

AAAAAAAA

This sucks.  This sucks this sucks this SUCKS.  But I’ll keep reading.  I have to know.  If I’m ever going to be able to stand, like, i dunno... homestuck rp i guess? i should probably keep reading.  and hope i recover.  eventually.

But that’s only part of it. Above this Earth, the dead cherub is still meditating, waiting for the day when she can have her own heroic apotheosis. Waiting for the day when she can confront the one she calls the Prince. And on this Earth, John is just waiting for the day that feeling finally stops. That feeling that he’s still waiting for something, and the even worse feeling that years ago, he missed his only chance to put an end to it. If you stand on a very high hill at dawn, you can watch your shadow move in an arc around you.

Yeah, reinforcing that John would be happier in the timeline where he did something and -- at least temporarily, since there’s hope of future revival -- “died” because of it, even if he wasn’t clear on why what he was trying to do even really mattered in the whole scheme of things.

...which is pretty weird when you consider the ending of Homestuck didn’t try to express that messa-- no, wait.  I guess it did?

Yes, everyone went to the post-victory planet to live out indefinite lives, but there WAS still the stage play.  Proving that John, at least, WOULD eventually step outside the happy ending to instead risk his life doing something important.  They earned both possibilities, really, to choose from at their will.

...Aren’t there another dozen pages or so left in this Candy segment, though??  Are we gonna follow their kids or something?

==>

...Okay so stuff still needs to happen here, plotways.  Good.  I think.

A flash above the clouds catches John’s attention: another ghost, falling down from wherever it is they come from. John follows after the light with an exhausted sigh. The novelty of dead trolls falling from the sky has really worn off over the years. But he might as well go warn the new arrival that they’ve landed in the middle of an imminent warzone. He sets down at the edge of the crater and peers through the smoke.

He recognizes the ghost immediately, because he sees a younger version of her almost every day.

JOHN: vriska?

Vriska’s face snaps up, eyes blazing. Eyes. Actual eyes, with expression, color, pupils, and everything.

JOHN: wait. you’re... JOHN: alive??

PFFFFFFhahahahah!

That’s pretty hilarious.  Vriska fell into the singularity and popped out here.

...Yeah, you can’t stand having missed the most “important” bit, can you.  Too bad.  You didn’t have the spotlight in the end.

==>

JADE: it is the one i have been waiting for all these years. JADE: we have run along parallel lines for what may as well be eternity, but my gravitational well has finally ensnared him. JADE: and now he is due to fall into this world.

Uhh, who?  Davebot or something, from the postscript?  Couldn’t be Gamzee, unless it’s, like... a different Gamzee.

“Chaos war”?  That’s a dramatic title.

==>

Hmm, reading reading...

Will Dad’s passing knock any sense into you?  Probably not.

...yeah, it wasn’t going to be that easy, was it?

Of course.  Of course Dad died saving the President.

Although, she’s going to assign fault to Karkat and then want to start a full bloody war over it, so, the opposite of having sense knocked into her then.

JANE: UGH! JANE: That... that fool!! JANE: I can’t believe that he would do this! JANE: How could he do this to me!?! JAKE: Janey... JANE: The human president could be anyone! JANE: My dad can’t be anyone but him!

Jane, you’ve become a real asshole.  :(

...Fuck you Gamzee.

GAMZEE: hEy. GAMZEE: Do YoU tHiNk ThAt MiGhT bE a BiT mOtHeRfUcKinG xEnOpHoBiC?

PFFFFHAHAHAHAHAAHAHhhh oh my GOD :’D

JANE: What? You think appealing to me with your disgusting little addiction is going to sway me?

Oh Jesus Christ that’s horrifying.  THAT’s what’s been going on.  I don’t want to visualize it, dear lord.

==>

Hahahah, catching Vriska up.  She’s practically curling up in a ball like Squidward in future shock.

PFFF PUTTING PARENS AROUND HER NAME SHE CAN’T STAND BEING IRRELEVANTIZED LIKE THAT

JOHN: i was supposed to go fight lord english, but i didn’t. so now we’ve gone beyond, like, the event horizon of canon. (VRISKA): What the fuck does that even MEAN????????

Wait, shouldn’t YOU know exactly what that means, Vriska?  Like, better than most people at least?

JOHN: all i know is that all of this is my fault.

:(

JOHN: it’s been turning around in my head like this for a while. i thought... JOHN: why does everything here fucking SUCK so much? JOHN: how the hell did we even make it from point A to point festering clusterfuck? JOHN: it doesn’t follow any kind of logic i understand, or any sort of basic sense i have about who we are as people... JOHN: and why? why have we all ended up so unhappy and... twisted up?

Yeah, a BUNCH of people have acted really goddamn out of character and it’s unclear why.

JOHN: i got everything i wanted. everyone got what they— JOHN: what i thought they wanted. JOHN: and that’s just it, isn’t it? JOHN: the more i think about it, i’m the only factor that matters to anything.

--What?!?  No!!!  You could SEE that this wasn’t what you thought they wanted right from the get-go.  It couldn’t have been YOUR imagination that this realm of alternative possibility was drawn from, could it?  D:

JOHN: whatever i did, or didn’t do, just... destroyed reality’s ability to, like, substantiate itself, or whatever. JOHN: like there’s a bug in the operating system of whatever force in this world that regulates cause and effect. JOHN: everything’s been unraveling. nothing that happens makes sense anymore. JOHN: and now i’m the only person out here who’s even real at all! JOHN: hahahaha.

That’s certainly an idea at least, that people started acting out of character as we went further from “canon”.  In fact, it’s kind of a slam at fanfics, maybe?  Acknowledging that they distort the characters by understanding them in different ways, sometimes, and.. hm.

(VRISKA): Hahahahahahahaha... Wow, I’ve never seen a guy get his 8ulge all the way down his own swallow chute 8efore! JOHN: wait, what? (VRISKA): Good fuck. Do you actually think reality gives that much of a shit a8out you? (VRISKA): Get real, Eg8ert. (VRISKA): It’s not like you’re me. JOHN: ok, well. JOHN: that’s fair i guess.

Heheheh.  ...Yeah, Vriska might pep talk him out of this self-deprecating theory of his.  Besides, I mean... is that the ONLY cause for this whole fucking situation?  That Roxy’s will got eroded to nothing arbitrarily either at random in a glitching non-canon timeline or because John kind of maybe thought something was going to happen and reality decided to run with it??

...heheh, “batterpanzers”.

I’m pretty sure caring what “c8non” is supposed to be is EXACTLY the thing you’re freaking out about, Vriska, whether you realize it or not.

Oooh, Gamzee.  Do we get to see Vriska kill him?

Yeaaah... redemption ain’t for THIS sp8der.  The ghost version of Vriska got the closest thing to redemption she’ll ever get; THIS version never learned any damn lessons and is not going to accept that she ever NEEDS to.  Also, you said her name in relevance-reducing parentheses.  Bad move.

==>

Yaaaay here’s the bunch of indigo blood we were promised!! :D

Where’s the nudity though? Maybe that’s coming.

He yowls as if he had actual testicles to be mauled, and for all anyone knows, maybe he really does.

It’s reassuring to see that while Andrew is more than willing to give us WAY too much genital detail in some cases throughout this epilogue, he still knows how to deftly exploit the parts of anatomy that still AREN’T explicitly characterized and remain intentionally vague for their impactful resulting humor.  :)

She lunges at Gamzee’s catastrophic face lips-first, and practically dives into his mouth, ramming her tongue into his

NOOO FUCK HE WAS ABOUT TO DIE AAAAAA D’:

FUCK  :(

Okay, back on to anything but this.

==>

Oh shit, double Vriska.  This might be bad.

...Phew.  Nice save, John.

JOHN: ha ha. yeah, right. because this is real life, right? JOHN: i guess reading narrative relevance into a bunch of dumb and totally random events is kind of lame and childish. ROSE: No, that isn’t what I meant at all. ROSE: By all means, apply a narrative to our lives. Up until a certain point, it would have been perfectly accurate to do so. ROSE: But not anymore. JOHN: because... it’s not canon, right? ROSE: Do you remember what I told you years ago? About the three pillars of canon?

Wuh-oh.

ROSE: As I explained to you on that morning sixteen years ago, there are three critical features of canon: essentiality, relevance, and truth. JOHN: yeah. ROSE: We have been untethered from the mooring of “truth” for some time now. ROSE: So while we, in our subjective experiences of conscious perception, feel in this moment that we have known each other for a very long time, technically it’s not true at all.

...Okay.  Okay.

So.  Were, like.

Roxy and Calliope affected by the, like... “untruth wave” of his choice not to go the hardest, because he made it in their vicinity?  And that turned Roxy into a hypnozombie with minimal apparent free will? :C

...Oh wow.  She’s thanking John that she got a chance to be happy in this side timeline, even if so many other people suffered.  Because of the fucking hell Dirk was about to unleash on her in the Meat timeline.  Fuck.

ROSE: In the silly wizard story I wrote when I was a child, ROSE: The realm most comparable to heaven existed in a state of subliminal conditionality, dependent on the inscience of the individual experiencing it. ROSE: Which is to say that it would cease to exist the moment you realized what it was. ROSE: And so, those with knowledge could never truly be happy.

Oh wow, huh.  Yeah, knowing you’re just in a fanfic kind of screws your appreciation for life around you, huh.  So John got fucked over a bit by his metatextual awareness.  :(

And... Rose was, like, cut off by his choice from her own metatextual awakening, maybe?  Hence her ability to appreciate a life somewhere disconnected from anything “canon”?

ROSE: But that isn’t me anymore. ROSE: I am blind against the veil of this world. ROSE: It’s all ambrosia to me. ROSE: I don’t care if it’s not true. I care even less if it’s not canon. ROSE: I have a beautiful wife who I love more than I thought possible, and a daughter who I am immeasurably proud of. ROSE: It can all be senseless, ephemeral noise that dissolves in the void. A whisper swept up by the wind before it’s uttered. ROSE: I’m still grateful to have felt this way.

:’)

Alright, this might be a pretty good way of accepting their potential happiness in different timelines as a potential substitute for Dirk’s mess.  I’m not sure HOW well I’ll be able to internalize it to stop the stomach cramps, but we’ll see.

We still have a little bit more left, though.  Next post.

[datauthorress]

Ashes of Night [Chapter 1: The Man from the Past]

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character

Summary: A young college student stumbles upon a man from the past, right in her very apartment. The man doesn't know why he's suddenly 119 years in the future, but maybe this is a second chance at a better life.

Warnings: Some strong language, some nudity and one confused cowboy.

The only thing that Shelby wanted to come home to was her animals, and then settle down and give them all the attention they needed. Her landlord, Mrs. Parish, had greeted her back home with a hug and a container of baked chocolate chip cookies, which she knew were Shelby's favorite. Shelby had been out of town for a couple of days for an interview on her new novelette, and it had been a very good couple of days.

Mrs. Parish had been more than happy to make sure Shelby's pets were watered and feed. Shelby owned two; a black cat named Kirby, whom she had rescued off a highway in the middle of a storm, and an albino ball python that she affectionately named Ghost, due to his color scheme. He was quite the sweet reptile, and loved people. He had been born in captivity and Shelby absolutely adored snakes, so she adopted one to give him a wonderful home.

As soon as Shelby walks up to the second floor to get to her apartment, Mrs. Parish greets her with cookies and mentions that she heard a thud from her apartment a couple of hours ago. Shelby deduced that Kirby had more than likely knocked something over, or was running around like a crackhead.

Boy, she had been clearly wrong.

As soon as she had stepped into her apartment, she had been aware of the motionless form lying in the middle of her living room. It was a man, and a rather stocky one at that. He was sprawled out on his back, a black hat lying on it's side not to far from him. He appeared to be in his late 30's, with a full head of thick, light brown hair that nearly seemed blond to her. He had facial hair, though not too much and wore a blue plaid shirt with dark brown overalls, with brown cowboy boots and what looked like a bandanna around his neck. There was a worn satchel around his torso, and she was startled to see a silver revolver in a holster on his belt.

Where the hell did this guy come from?

Shelby knelt down, sitting on her knees beside the unconscious man. She scrunched her eyebrows and leaned down a bit, tilting her head so she could see if he was breathing. She waited a few moments and finally heard a soft breath come from the man. So he was alive, and he didn't look injured. Very dirty, but not injured. She sat back up, her eyes trailing down to the revolver at his hip.

This stranger could be dangerous. Looked dangerous.

She complemented calling 911, but this guy looked like he came straight from the late 1800's, so the man would probably freak out if he realized he was in a jail cell, with no memory of where he was. Shelby sighed quietly and slowly reached down, curling the fingers of her left hand around the handle of the revolver. She checked to see if the man was awake and when he hadn't even stirred, she carefully pulled the weapon away from the man's hip. She let out a quiet sigh of relief and stood up, glad she had taken her boots off so the thudding of them on the carpet wouldn't wake the man up. She wrapped the gun up in a thick towel, and hid it underneath the couch, for now. She quietly ventured to her bedroom down the hallway, where she grabbed a couple of ties from her closet and went back out to the living room. She used the thick cloth tie his wrists together firmly, but not tightly enough to cause any damage. She took his boots off and cringed at the smell, before tying his ankles together.

Better safe than sorry.

Shelby then proceeded to drag the man by his shoulders onto the couch, making sure he was comfortable in his position. She sighed quietly, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over his prone form.

Kirby meowed softly as she hopped onto the couch, sitting down next to the man. “Think you can keep an eye on him while I feed your brother?” Shelby asked, and got a meow in response. “Thank you, sweetie.”

She took the next few quiet moments to straighten up a bit, grabbing Ghost's food out of the freezer. She walked over to the reptile tank and cooed as she opened the top. “Hi, baby. I got you some food. Yeah, I know...I missed you guys too.” she smiled, as Ghost slithered up a bit, bumping into her hand. “Here you go, baby.”

Ghost took the food gladly and she closed the top, letting him eat.

At this time, she heard a soft groan and glanced over to the john doe. He was stirring, his body moving slightly. She went over to him and stood about five feet away from him, as the man's head snapped up and his eyes opened.

Shelby was met with a pair of steel blue eyes, which chilled her to her very core. She swallowed thickly, before she spoke.

“You awake, buddy?”

The man blinked once, twice, before he glanced around, surprise evident in his eyes. Kirby meowed, her tail moving from side to side and the man looked down at her, before blinking once more. He then finally turned his attention to Shelby.

“Where am I?” the man asked, his accent deep, thick and rich. It was something Shelby hadn't expected, but she didn't let her guard down.

“My apartment.” she replied. “In Plymouth, Indiana. It's the summer of 2018, June 4th.”

“2018....?” the man muttered.

Shelby waited for a moment, looking around to see if she could show him the date. She remembered she bought a newspaper this morning, so she walked over to where her bag was hanging by the door and grabbed the newspaper out of it. She flipped it to the date and approached the man, showing him the date.

“Well.....shit.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked, tossing the newspaper onto the coffee table. “Your attire isn't really suitable for this day and age....late 1800's?”

“1899, if I remember correctly.” the man spoke, reaching up with his hands, and then just now realizing his hands were bound. “Why am I tied up?”

“Well, when a man appears from out of nowhere in my apartment and has a weapon on his person, the owner of said apartment is a little cautious.” Shelby replied. “And before you ask, yes, I took your revolver. It's hidden right now.”

“Are ya going to report me to the authorities?” he asked, steel blue eyes looking up into her own hazel ones.

“No.” Shelby replied, shaking her head. “You got a name?”

“Everyone's got a name, kid.” the man scoffed quietly. “My name is Arthur Morgan.”

Arthur Morgan? Why does that name sound familiar...? Shelby thought, scrunching her eyebrows. She held up a hand and went over to her backpack, rummaging through it and getting out the notebook she was looking for. She rummaged through the used notebook, soon coming upon the little project she had started earlier in the year. “Arthur Morgan.....Morgan....” she muttered to herself, getting out a small pile of newspaper clippings and pictures. She flipped through the pictures until she came upon a drawn picture of a man that fit Arthur Morgan's face.

Once she deemed the picture the right one, she walked over to the man and placed the picture close to his face. Same face structure.....

And the name at the bottom of the picture was what sold it.

“You're really Arthur Morgan.....” Shelby said softly. “Same face structure, eye color, hair color, everything...”

“Well, who else the hell would I be?” he drawled. “What's that in yer hand?”

“A drawn picture you, from the 1890's.” she replied. “Supposedly....you died from tuberculosis in 1899-”

“I did. I contracted the god awful disease from a diseased farmer and died from it.” the older man replied. “So.....this situation may be...”

“That you somehow got sent 119 years into the future, and here you are.” Shelby finished, putting the paper back with the others. She took the blanket off of him and grimaced, knowing she was going to need to wash it now. “Mr. Morgan, 2018 is a very different era from where you're from....things are very different now. I suppose, for now, I'll let you stay here until I can figure out what to do.”

“Yer letting a complete stranger stay in yer home?” Arthur questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“Where else can you go?” she asked, reaching forward to undo the cloth around his ankles. She undid his wrists next and took a few steps back, just in case he decided to attack or anything. When he didn't, she relaxed a bit. “Mr. Morgan, my name is Shelby Hartford.”

“Alright, Miss Hartford-”

“Uh....drop the miss, please. Just call me Shelby.” she said, a bit uncomfortable with the 'miss'.

“Only if ya call me Arthur.” he said, standing up.

Damn, he was taller than she thought. Shelby could only assume he was almost a foot taller than her, since she as only five feet, five inches. “Sure. Okay....um....” she paused for a moment, rubbing her hands together. “You need to clean up.....no man is going to be staying filthy in my home. I'm a neat freak.”

“I can't 'member the last time I took a well-deserved bath.” he mused.

“Alright, then. We'll get you cleaned up, and then we'll discuss rules for you staying here.” she nodded, motioning for him to follow her.

Shelby guided Arthur to the guest bathroom, letting him know where things were. She plugged the tub, and started the water, feeling it before setting it to a very warm temperature. She put a bit of bubble bath in it, and turned around, only to quickly cover her eyes when she realized the man was half-naked, and getting ready to take his overalls off.

“You could've waited until I was out of the room!” she exclaimed, keeping her eyes covered as a blush stained her cheeks.

“Girly, where I'm from, women don't shy away from a naked man.” Arthur's voice caught her ears.

“Shut up and just get in the tub.” she grumbled, keeping her eyes covered.

There was the rustling of clothing, and then the slight breeze as the man walked past her. She heard splashing and after a moment, uncovered her eyes. She refused to look towards the tub, and grabbed a large, fluffy towel from the small cabinet next to the sink. She placed the towel on the rack next to the tub, and spoke, while getting out some body wash and shampoo that her brother had left here.

“I don't have any clothes for you, so I'll have to wash your clothes until we can go shopping.” she spoke, placing the body wash and shampoo on the edge of the tub. “Which will probably be tomorrow. I'll have to measure your torso, waist and get your shoe size. Also.....no overalls. You can wear them tomorrow, but after that, no more. Overalls aren't really a thing anymore.”

“Way t' kill my style, kid.” the older man joked.

Shelby rolled her eyes. “Just call for me when you're done.”

She left the bathroom, picking up the filthy clothes before Arthur could say another word, closing the door behind her. She sighed quietly, before she made her way to the living room and set the clothes down with the dirty blanket. She walked over to Ghost's tank and lifted the hood, cooing as she reached in to pick up the snake. He immediately bumped into her hand as she lifted him out of the tank, holding him up to her neck. He slithered up to her neck and around her neck, resting his head just on the right side of her neck. She rubbed his head gently, and went back over to the clothes, picking them up. She tossed them into the washer and put some soap inside, then started the washer for a medium load.

Shelby went into the kitchen, searching for something to eat. It was only 5 PM, so she was hungry. And she was sure Arthur was hungry as well.

“I wonder if he's ever had spaghetti...” she mused. “What do you think, Ghost?”

Ghost flicked his tongue out and Shelby nodded. “Spaghetti it is.”

She grabbed out two jars of Prego sauce and mixed them in a deep pan, putting some spices into the sauce. She mixed it together well, before she allowed it to heat up and cook. She never realized that Arthur had walked out into the living room, with only a towel wrapped around his hips.

“Hey, kiddo, I was thinkin'.....is that a snake?!”

Shelby yelped and jumped, quickly turning around and felt heat creep onto her cheeks again. She slapped her hands over her eyes. “I told you to call for me!”

“Why is there a snake around yer neck?!”

“He's my baby!”

“Snakes aren't pets! Are ya goddamn crazy, girl?! Gimme that reptile!”

That drew the line and Shelby grabbed up her cast iron skillet, holding it threateningly. Arthur stopped a mere ten feet away from her, staring down at the young woman before him. The python around her neck lifted it's head up, flicking it's tongue out.

“Don't you touch Ghost.” Shelby warned. “In this century, snakes can be have as pets. Especially pythons. Pythons are sweet creatures who done no harm, except crush their prey.”

“Exactly! And you have it around yer neck.”

“I've had Ghost for two years now. Not once has he ever tried to hurt me.” Shelby said. “I adopted him from a pet store and gave him a better home than they ever would.”

“Okay....okay, jus'....put the pan down.” Arthur said, holding a hand out in defense.

Shelby eyed him for a moment, then put her skillet down. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just....gimme a sec. I'll have to give you a blanket for now.”

After calming down, Shelby grabbed a blanket out from the hallway closet, throwing it onto Arthur. “Cover up with that for now. Your clothes won't be done until later, and I don't have any underwear for you, so tough it out, cowboy.”

“Kid, I've been toughin' it out for years.” Arthur said back, wrapping the blanket around himself, and sitting on the couch. “What the goddamn hell is that....thing?” he asked, pointing to the television.

“It's a television.” Shelby replied, walking out of the kitchen and grabbing the remote. She turned the television on, and switched it to the sci-fi channel. “Watch the shitty b-rated movie while I make dinner.”

“Back in my time, movies were sure as hell not like 'his.” Arthur drawled, scrunching his eyes at the weird screen.

“Well, you're not in 1899 anymore, Arthur.” she sighed.

Arthur went quiet afterwards, his attention focused on the screen. He seemed....actually quite interested in it. Something about a winged, red-eyed creature going after some kids. Over the next hour, Shelby would occasionally glance over to the man on her couch, finding this whole situation just a complete weird-ass dream. She had to be dreaming, right?

Eventually, Kirby stretched out next to Arthur, flopping onto her side. Arthur had questioned about Kirby and Shelby answered, 'she likes men'. Arthur didn't seem to mind, and would occasionally pet Kirby's belly.

Shelby closed her eyes and rubbed her face.

How the hell was she going to deal with this?  

[juxtaposition-writing-blog]

What more than that? Chapter 1 - Green and Red

Summary: OC Hayley grows up in Asgard together with Loki and Thor. Their relationship blossoms throughout this fanfic.

Pairing: Loki x OC

Word Count: ~ 1500

Warnings: Childhood trauma, abandonment issues

This is a very old story of mine (so bare with me) that I am posting here in hope of finishing it. I will update the chapters I already finished back in the day and continue afterwards with new parts. At least, that’s the plan :). Feedback would be much appreciated to keep me motivated and to become a better writer. Have fun!

Where his color of choice was green, hers was red. Where his demeanor was scheming, mysterious, and sometimes mischievous, hers was straight forward, honest and self-conscious. Where their magic was concerned, he always wanted to impress or outplay, she mostly wanted to practice and help.

Hayley’s eyes were of a bright blue and framed by her long red hair, whereas Loki’s green ones lit up his face especially against the canvas of his dark black curls. The only thing the two had in common was their alabaster skin. They had also grown up in the same home, starting when Hayley came to Asgard. She was from Earth, a Midgardian, and Loki was Asgardian - supposedly.

She was 12 and in a very vulnerable state back then, because her parents had just died in a horrible car accident. Odin, All-father, had just been visiting Earth in disguise when it happened. Sensing that there was something special about her, he took the child into his home. Hayley didn’t live with the royal family but the palace became her home and she started to spend time with Thor, Loki, and those who would later become their battle companions.

Soon after she had gotten over the initial shock of losing both parents at such a young age and nonetheless the fact that she would be living on a different planet where gods and magic and kings existed, Loki discovered her anomaly. She could do magic just like him.

When Hayley first started getting used to her new surroundings and her ability, Loki was only a couple of years older than her. Nobody, not even the mischievous sorcerer himself, could explain where her magic came from. But it was clear from the start that her magic wasn’t as potent as Loki’s tricks were and hers was a different kind. Loki would double himself in an astral projection and Hayley would make herself disappear. He would throw lightning strikes at his enemies with bare hands, whereas Hayley would cast a vast impenetrable shield to protect herself and others within from attacks.

Often, both didn’t know how exactly they managed to do it since no one in Asgard had even slightly similar powers (Frigga being the exception of course). But from the moment on, when Loki discovered her talent, he was designated to be her teacher. In the beginning, when they were both still young and experimenting with their abilities, it was fun for both of them. However, during their adolescence Loki grew more and more weary of the ball and chain Hayley had become for him; and she could feel it.

He wanted to compete with his brother Thor for their father’s approval. He wanted to play tricks on others or flirt around. Loki simply didn’t want to be dragged down by Hayley, who had never been the center of attention, anyway. She might have had powers of her own, but that made her as unique as it made her stand out. No physical abilities, like being able to fight or drink, made her attractive. Without a lot of friends other than Loki, Hayley was deeply hurt when he had just cast her aside. She was alone a lot and found the library as her favorite spot to be left in peace and quiet.

From that time on until she was about 22, Hayley studied Asgard’s history, other worlds in the world tree including her own, and read all she could find on magic. Whilst Loki was having his first serious battles with Thor and their companions in other realms, she stayed at her new home and practiced magic on her own. And she grew stronger by the day.

Although her spells didn’t change significantly, her power did. The range as well as the stability of her shield for example grew extensively. One day, Thor came strolling into the library in his usual self-centered conduct. He had no business there whatsoever, at least that was what Hayley thought back then, but he did manage to catch up on her enhanced abilities pretty fast. She was practicing in one corner of the big hall, which was covered in adorned golden tapestry. Books were swirling around her and she was balancing a heavy wooden shelf on her protection field.

“That could come in handy in battle, you know!” Thor said. It was all that was needed to break Hayley’s concentration and let all the flying items tumble down on her. If it wasn’t for Loki’s motion spell, the book shelf would have crushed her. Where he had come from out of nowhere was elusive to Hayley.

Heavily panting, Hayley just stood there surrounded by the mess and looked at the two brothers. They were both cracking a smile; Loki’s more ironic than Thor’s. Why were they even here; in her library of all places? Since when had she gotten interesting again, anyway? Except for the occasional dinner and family meetings, they hadn’t spent much time together during the last years of their lives.

“You could have killed me! What are you doing here, anyway? Just get out and leave me alone!” Hayley was angry; not only because of her spell backfiring on her but also because them entering her library almost felt like an intrusion into her private life.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t have let that happen.” Loki said. “Not with that pretty trick you just did there. Show it to me!” His voice was rather silent and calm but with a hint of impatience which bugged Hayley. Thor and Loki were standing before her in their red and green uniforms, respectively, which meant that they either had been training or had just returned from a real battle. Other than a little dirt on his clothes, Thor looked unharmed. Loki’s coat was torn, though, and he had a cut on his left cheek.

Once her best friend, Hayley still cared about Loki deeply but her worry was immediately followed by pain. Every time she saw him, it hurt her. “Why would I show you? You have your own tricks. Go play with them!” She couldn’t stand the smug look on their faces anymore and just stormed out of the door.

“Thor, maybe she could help us in our next battle. That shield would have come in handy, earlier. Maybe Sif hadn’t been pierced through her leg by that spear and Fandral could even fence through that magic barrier without getting attacked himself,” Loki said.

“I think we make a pretty good team on our own. But I’ll think about it.”, Thor answered.

“We could just do a test run.”, Loki proposed.

“We’ll see.”

 _________________________________________________________________

Flash forward:

When Hayley came into his room, she startled at his presence. Loki had turned his back on her and was looking in the mirror. The only thing he was wearing, were tight black trousers and Hayley could see his exposed skin. It was blue.

“I am a monster,” he whispered.

Hayley approached him slowly. “No, you’re not, Loki!”

“Then why were you so shocked when you came in here?!” Loki turned to face her. Hayley swallowed hard. She looked directly into his sparkling green eyes.

“Because I didn’t expect to find you half-naked in here,” she said quietly.

Involuntarily she glanced at his muscled, almost hairless chest. In this state his blue skin was decked with circular creasing and ornaments. Loki just looked at her quizzically. He opened his mouth to reply something but their close proximity stopped him in his tracks. Hesitantly, Hayley put out her palm and slightly touched his chest. Loki was watching her, not moving away. His skin felt cold to her touch but when he put his hand over hers, her skin became warm again.

Surprised, she looked up to find him looking down at her with a small smile. Still holding her hand over his heart, he lowered his face to hers.

Flash back.

[anime-scarves]

In a strange turn of events I actually finished two shows in two days. Not that I started them both in two days, but I actually finished them. So I will now review them because I haven’t done that in awhile. 

Rage of Bahamut: Genesis

This is a bit of an odd adaption to start with. The source material is a card game with not much story going for it which makes the anime a very dangerous game of showing off the cool world and everyone’s favorite characters and actually trying to have a story for the anime. I think it actually turned out pretty well. The story follows the lackadaisical scoundrel Favaro as he is pursued by his rival/friend the chivalrous knight Kaissar. I honestly have no idea if these characters are in the game since I didn’t play RoB, but they work really well as a lead pair. 

The show starts off as a fun romp through an exciting fantasy world of magic and wonder. Demons plot nefarious deeds as they float around in giant flying eldrazi fortress things, Angels scheme from heaven on how to keep the world balance in order, etc. etc. The show is really about showing off the world and the characters as glorified advertisement and it does a great job of that. After seeing it you can’t help but want to go learn more about the world and all the fun characters in it. 

The story isn’t anything to write home about in my opinion, but it works as a vehicle to move the main characters around and show the audience new things. It’s on the passable side and really is more than I ever expected from this kind of adaption. It had some twists and turns along the way, but when dealing with this sort of story you usually know what’s going to happen by the end before you get there. 

The main appeal of this show to me was the art style and character design. The character design stands out from contemporary designs because it lacks a lot of the moe influence and goes for a somewhat realistic approach to the designs. (Kaisser also has the best hair)

It’s also worth noting that in many parts where 3DCG was used it matched the frame rate of the rest of the show and didn’t look super clunky. Though it wasn’t consistent in doing this so a few things like Bacchus’s carriage and the forest dragon didn’t quite mesh as well. But those are small nitpicks. 

I also like that Cygames itself is producing the adaptions of their games which gives them control over what goes. They’ve made a Granblue Fantasy anime, and Rage of Bahamut currently has a second season airing (2 cour even!) that seems to be well received. 

All in all I gave it a 6/10. It’s an above average fantasy show with some exciting action and great art style/designs. It lacks in story so it doesn’t quite stack up to some of the better fantasy shows, but it’s definitely worth your time. S2 is supposedly shaping up quite well, so maybe it will deliver a bit more on the story. (Also more Cerberus please)

Next up is...

Humanity has Declined

This show stands as one of the most uniquely strange things that I have ever seen, but it’s in a wonderful way. The premise is that well humanity has declined and that the human race is on a one way ticket to extinction. However, the show does not focus on the impending doom of the human race but on the “new humanity” the fairies. Fairies are tiny little creatures of extraordinary power that will one day inherit the earth. For the most part they are harmless creatures that really only do things that they think are fun, and multiply in numbers when they are having fun. The show features Watashi who is a mediator between her village and the fairies that they encounter. 

The show is very surreal and it often gets really weird. A lot of different themes are explored through the misadventures of the fairies from figuring out who you are to satirizing society as a whole. What makes the substance of the show so great is that you can watch the show and be fully immersed in the experience and not once feel like you just had a theme pushed at you. They are supported by the show and are the root of the episodes, but the entertainment value is capitalized also. For me this is one of the best ways that entertainment can present themes and commentary. 

The art of the show is filled with bold bright colors that accentuate a lot of the bizarreness of the show. Lighting is done with sharp lines between different shades of light and dark creating a very stylized feel in shots with lower light. The backgrounds are often a little abstract, or at the least not cleanly defined which also help to build the surreal experience that is the show. 

The actual subject matter of the episodes is what makes the show truly bizarre, but also so wonderful. You can go from an episode where the characters are stuck inside the pages of a manga and have to write to the satisfaction of the fairies, to touring a factory that makes food that is run by sentient food. Humanity has Declined constantly goes out of the box (often quite literally goes outside of the bounds of where they are) and presents themes in ways that they aren’t typically. 

Humanity has Declined will likely stay high up on the list of strange things that I’ve seen for a long time. When all is said and done it’s a well made show that incorporates both strong entertainment value and good substance. I give it a 7-8/10. Definitely recommend giving this one a shot. I don’t think it’s the show for everyone, but if you want something uniquely strange and slower paced you’ll want to give it a shot. Also where else are you going to watch chickens jumping off a cliff all set to Ave Maria.

[hiphop260-blog]

Atlanta in the Armchair: Psychoanalyzing Donald Glover’s New Show

Maurice Inoni 4.19.17

I am posted up post-breakup in my living room.  My afro is the end-of-the-week mess that has now become the default-- the itchy, frizzy default-- and my regalia is now the end-of-the-day hoodie and basketball shorts I just now realized I’ve been wearing for two days.  I had missed the past day or-so of classes; unable to get out of bed after a particularly unforgiving week mixed with a lack of sleep left me with exhaustion, and now at the end of a day of bed-rest and soup, I am laying by the TV.  

I present this information for you to imagine-- in a way similar to Atlanta, I am not explicitly telling you anything about my subconscious or inner state, not of my thoughts or feelings, or even what I meant by telling you this (very personal) information.  An important concept of Freudian and Jungian psychoanalysis is that we don’t need to rely on explicit psychic expression to decipher the workings of an individual’s unconscious.  Jung posits that film serves as a sort of societal dream (dream = subconscious) while Freud says that the truths influencing individual’s conscious everyday life derive their meaning from feelings buried in the unconscious. Between these two ideas we have the basis of psychoanalytical media analysis-- that is to say we can access societal truths through film, and many of the brightest filmmakers and creators seek to lead their audiences into doing just this and coming away with awakened realizations of how things we’ve internalised into our subconscious effect us and our society.

My roommate, Mars, and I have been treating Donald Glover’s Atlanta like a weekly ritual.  Every week for the first half of the season, leaving the television tuned to the FX channel while we shuffle around the room; finishing homework and scrambling together dinner before our show starts and we drop everything, save for some beers, and take to the couch.  The show has undoubtedly brought us together as roommates, two young men of color: Mars, a well-dressed, well-adjusted student athlete and business major, and Me, an occasional artist and full-time manic-depressive time bomb.  Well, to be fair, like Mars, I have other things going for me as well, but I think that it’s pertinent to note that I do deal with depression and it intermittently forces itself to the front seat in my life, and this particular week-- the end of Atlanta’s first season, where I was catching up on the final few episodes-- I was having an especially difficult time.  This was when it struck me.  Besides the show being an extraordinarily relatable and often funny slice of life show depicting the trials of Black millennial life, it is also a very real and often sad slice of allegory depicting the trials of being a Black millennial with depression.

Donald Glover’s character, Earn-- a situational stick-in-the-mud-- isn’t exactly the most likeable character, but he is not one you can exactly hate either;  and I feel like I can relate to him the moment he first comes on screen, unshaven, wearing baggy jeans, sporting short and messy dreads.  All these little details that allude to, but never explain Earn’s character, are peppered into the show’s story, which is uniquely scant on exposition.  

Much like a lot of the current filmed works loved by my fellow Black millennials, my favorite aspect of the show lies in the representation.  White people are reduced from the complex individuals they are usually portrayed as on television to almost a fraction of a character-- that is, reduced to the few White traits or tropes that Glover means to symbolise with each character.  All these token White characters and their interactions with Earn help him traverse throughout the world of Atlanta, bringing his career and its related plotline forward in exchange for dealing with their various microaggressions which manage to be both innocently inadvertent and brutally troubling.  The show manages to pull off probably some of the best depictions of liberal racism i've seen on TV, taking uncomfortable racialized encounters with white characters and portraying them in exceedingly bizarre scenarios (think: Get Out lite) such as: his experiences with the Black-fetishizing White husband of a character, the artist manager who mistakes him for another Black guy and thinks she’s known him forever, and the Princeton Grad turned rude radio DJ that he knew from his University days.  But this isn't to say that these depictions form a completely unrelated narrative.  Glover’s depiction of Whites and their effect on Earn seems to be part of a deeper running commentary about their effect on his psyche and mental health as a Black man in a White run society, (specifically the effect of liberal racism which, by virtue of not operating physically or overtly, acts completely in the subconscious).  In fact, the only cracks in Earn’s usually stoic and untroubled exterior, (which is also the closest thing to a stereotypically Black character trope this show offers-- for the purpose of highlighting this very effect) come in “Juneteenth” where a classist remark and its underlying racist sentiment drives Earn into a frenzy where he goes off on the two characters who say it (the white husband and his black wife).  This lends itself to what Glover seems to be saying-- that this form of microaggression is mental violence that can accumulate and then come to a visible boiling point within the Black psyche.

Everything in Atlanta is offset by the cinematography of director Hiro Murai-- realizing the other aspects of Glover’s vision not in the script and writing-- painting the world he wants to share with us; and that world as it happens, is extremely depressing.  The color schemes of the show lie in muted warm colors that, while visually beautiful, never warrant any description as (what I’d call) bright, uplifting, or fun.  Its an effect similar to seeing every part of the world through a low contrast Instagram filter.  The result is one that, optically at least, is overwhelmingly melancholic.  Breaking down the visual language episode-by-episode we can gather a more substantive proof that this is the intended effect.  For example, there are two episodes that break away from the show’s main storyline following Earn-- that is to say that he is omitted from two episodes that don't feature his perspective-- one is “Value” which is from the perspective of his girlfriend Van, the other is “B.A.N.” which is a sketch episode with no particular character narrative focus.  Both of these episodes are important because they show that the world of Atlanta-- the real objective one, as opposed to the one Earn sees-- is funnier, more vibrant, and more full of connection.  The Atlanta we experience through Earn shows us similar things but in that context they are all disconcerting, random, and dark (nutella guy anyone?).  In addition, both of these episodes are directed by Glover instead of Murai which is another important indicator that the lens attached to Earn’s perspective is completely intentional.

In fact the visuals alone are weird for any scripted TV show, each shot is very cinematic-- feeling like an extension of Glover and Murai’s last collaboration- Clapping For the Wrong Reasons, a short film following a low-key day in the life of a young rapper based off Glover’s real life rap persona, Childish Gambino, as he meanders through his manor trying to locate an elusive houseguest.  An important connection to make as the film and Atlanta are tonally similar, and fans of Glover’s prolific and genre spanning career know that he has been somewhat candid about his struggles with depression, at least in his art-- usually deferring to his musical projects, to tease out the personal struggles of his depression through the narrative arcs of his albums that he entrusts his most attentive fans to decode.

In Atlanta there are also coded allusions to Glover’s depression, starting with something as fundamental as the rhythm or pacing of the show.  Earn’s day to day struggles to get a step ahead, not for his own betterment, but for his daughter, never lead to any satisfaction for the character who often finds himself right back in similar situations depending on the episode.  However that is the basic premise for a lot of modern TV shows, the difference in its application in Atlanta is that since the show only meanders through its plot the pitfalls of not being directly successful in a venture are felt while the successes are only experienced briefly.  Take the amount of effort that went in to Earn trying to get Paper Boi’s appearance fee from the nightclub owner as an example.  Earn spends the whole episode trying to do this one task, that grows more and more out of reach as he becomes drunk (!) when he finally corners his target, he gets played and turned out of the club with barely any of the promised money,  in the last few minutes of the episode, Paper Boi goes back into the club himself and accomplishes the task of getting the money within moments.  However this just serves as contrast to show how difficult it is to function with high anxiety and depression which are portrayed in the episode as pacing, intoxication (alcohol = depressant), and the mania of Earn’s environment, which he has no control over, but overwhelms him far more than his peers.  Earn’s experienced highs in the show (his supposedly enjoyable nights of debauchery etc.) are always fleeting, as his personal enjoyment is only ever hinted at through flashbacks or through the perception of others.  His positive moments, being with his girlfriend, hanging out with his friends, always seem to be underlined by a sense of dread shown by Earn’s own discomfort and on-edge manner despite the situational peace of his surroundings.

The lack of familial support for Earn is also worthy of a place in the discourse.  What is-- on the surface-- easily written off as a simple expository plot device to explain Earn’s need for self-reliance, quickly finds its place in our narrative as an allegory for the Black community’s rejection of depression as a serious issue.  The painting of the condition as “not a real problem” and stigmatizing of it has lead to many unexplained deaths and hardships, (the most publically available example being the suicide of Pro Era rapper Capital Steez).  Earn’s parents cutting off their support of him serves as direct reference to this lack of understanding of mental issues, because to them, it seems like all of Earn’s shortcomings must stem from a fixable character flaw.

The season finale (spoiler alert!) reveals that Earn has been essentially homeless the whole show, living inside of a storage container.  Suddenly everything makes sense, such as his worrying,  his transience,  and living with his Girlfriend.  This revelation tethers all the clues and signals of the season thus far into one big explicit scene which serves as Earn’s “coming out moment”-- an allegorical aside to the audience-- of him realising or revealing his struggle with depression.  The setup to this being him leaving his girlfriend's house in order to sleep alone outside.  Those living with forms of depression often try to consider those in our lives who try to connect with us by distancing themselves, often missing that what to them seems like a positive sacrifice has an opposite effect on the recipient.  This moment from the final moments of the last episode may be the most textbook apparent indicator of depression, notably the inability of Earn to ever fully connect with those around him.  While he gains the trust of those who become his closest circle, (his girlfriend, his cousin Paper Boi who he also manages, and their friend Darius) he seems to never fully be one of them.  That is because this is the depression-skewed reality that Earn is living, not because they choose to remain distant to him, but rather because of his own personal isolation.  Personally speaking the reality of what causes this cyclical loneliness is one of the most heartbreaking things about both life with this condition and Atlanta itself.

(Shabazz #2)