#which like I understand we’re exploring it but u are taking forever to get to the expansion part djdndndndjd

[roppiepop]

Read Tim’s solo. My issues w fitzmartin’s writing still stand but i will withhold judgement as a whole until we finish like,,, one arc. At least.

I’m also not the biggest fan of rossmo’s art but I appreciate some of the visual language choices employed. I’ll always take more dynamic, if messier artstyles than a polished one that’s stiff.

Dbdhhshdh that’s the extent of a fair review i can give i g :////

[gay-snom]

contextualizing lwj’s coming to terms with his feelings subplot!

i wanna talk about the role of confucianism in this subplot because i think it’s something some western fans might not pick up on. basically, the sociopolitical climate of confucianism in his character arc, and a little bit about his interaction with the public image theme.

disclaimer: i’m not chinese but i do have a double minor in chinese and asian studies and have written a few papers on confucianism.

we’re gonna be talking about the novel bc i feel its a little more in-depth and nuanced than lwj’s “what is black, what is white” monologue in cql. namely the tension and misunderstanding in wwx’s first life and how lwj got his scars. i feel like it’s pretty well accepted that wwx made lwj reconsider his world view, so i’m just gonna expand on it. also i want to point out it's pretty unspoken in most of the text, but lwj is also affected by/used to explore the public image themes, as his image the is ideal confucian scholar.

confucianism is centered around the ideas of how to behave “good” in sociopolitical contexts. basically it boils down to a belief system on how society should be run. if everyone follows confucian beliefs, you will have an ideal society. the main text is the Analects, which you can read here. it’s been around for a few thousand years (like around 200 BCE ish), had a huge revival in the tang dynasty (618-907 CE). it was put on imperial exams, the emperor’s cabinet had confucian scholars, etc. this is just to say confucian values are important to historic society, especially upper-class scholars, which seems to be a role cultivators commonly fill in xianxia. here are some basic tenants:

being a gentleman/scholar/superior man (君子 jūn zǐ) : partly being learned in the arts, literature, music, poetry, etc., mostly behaving righteously and dutifully.

filial piety: usually described as obedience. it's not simply obeying everything elders tell you, it includes doing it with reverence and thankfulness for their sacrifices for you.

leading by example: if leaders/the government is righteous, the people will follow. lwj has his flock of juniors that are all strong cultivators and the lan sect is just generally known for being moral and good.

rites/rituals: a focus on politeness and holding proper ceremonies, sacrifices, and funerals

speech: there’s some great meta about the register he speaks in here, i just want to touch on think carefully before you speak, only speak sincerely, etc.

tldr; lwj is THE perfect gentleman (even his title contains the character suffix 君 -jūn, like lxc. which, while this character is not uncommon for cultivator titles, it wasn’t chosen carelessly either. also not to be confused with 尊 -zūn). seriously, look at almost all of book 10 and you'll see don't do/consume in excess, don't talk during meals, sit only when your mat is straight, etc.

okay, so Why is understanding his feelings for wwx so troublesome?

1.2 "They are few who, being filial and fraternal, are fond of offending against their superiors. There have been none, who, not liking to offend against their superiors, have been fond of stirring up confusion... Filial piety and fraternal submission! - are they not the root of all benevolent actions?"

in other words, people who are filial will never create political tension. so like, morally, wwx should be considered horrible person! he’s not only snubbed the jiang sect. he was a head disciple who undoubtedly had younger students looking up to him. and then he goes and stirs up some huge political issues! he is now a bad role model for the people below him and disrespected the people above him. lwj has an entire image to uphold, he has poured his entire life into following these rules and beliefs, and then wwx comes along. would continuing to be in wwx's life taint lwj? there are some contradicting teachings in regards to interacting with wwx:

15.4: "Do not take counsel with those who follow a different Way"

15.28: "When the multitude hates a person, you must examine them and judge for yourself. The same holds true for someone whom the multitude love."

15.36 "When it comes to being Good, defer to no one, not even your teacher."

this is part of the reason lwj had so much trouble accepting his feelings. he didn’t know how to handle this situation, making him appear distant during/directly after sunshot. if he judges wwx's intentions to be pure, it's then not wrong to be friendly with him. but wwx still is morally wrong by society's standards. now, lwj has to not only figure out his feelings, but also reconcile this with how he still thinks wwx is Not a bad person, despite everything. what if he does get "tainted" by wwx? will it hurt the reputation of his sect? that would be un-filial, right? he spent his whole life memorizing rules that are probably extremely similar to sections in the Analects, and now these mixed messages (coupled with the relatable gay panic) are overwhelming.

onto the next! there’s something unspoken in the scene where wwx discovers why lwj has the whip scars. as other posts have mentioned, lwj taking wwx back to the burial mounds and nursing him is high treason. however, this action is also extremely un-filial. also his entire image is built around being a perfect gentleman, if this were to get out to the public he would lose absolutely everything. he would be just as irreparable as wwx.

“I was worried if those from another sect found you first, WangJi would be considered your accomplice. The best scenario was his name being forever tainted, and the worst was his life being taken away right then. Thus, along with Uncle, we chose thirty three seniors who had always thought highly of WangJi... ”

there’s no way lwj didn’t know what would happen if he did this. obviously as lxc says, if this got out, he would lose basically his entire face. and even though lxc didn’t mention this, it would definitely lose a lot of face for the lan sect as well since lwj is so prominent. the decision about what elders to bring is also notable.

“...As if he knew all along he would be discovered by us, he said that there was nothing to explain, that this was it. Growing up, he had never talked back to Uncle, not even once. But for you, not only did WangJi talk back to him, he even met with his sword the cultivators from the Gusu Lan sect...”

so yeah, he obviously knew they would come for him and what the consequences would be. and he still talked back! that’s already not a good look for the lan sect. but attacking them? totally unforgivable! lwj gives up how he was raised and the importance of filial piety, what he has held on to until this major plot event. since it's basically the biggest "fuck you" to his uncle and his clan, this was not a decision he made lightly. lwj shows them he cares more about wwx and His Own ideas of right and wrong than the sect’s or society’s.

Wei WuXian dug his hands into his hair, “...I-I didn’t know... I really...”

when was the last time wwx was at a loss for words? wwx spends a few paragraphs after this lamenting how he hurt lwj, but he's not unaware of the gravity of what lwj did. it's an underlying assumption from being raised in the culture. i would argue his first instinct is "oh god he gave up what for me?" since those lamenting paragraphs are after lxc finishes speaking.

"But he said... that he could not say with certainty whether what you did was right or wrong..."

this is something thrown around a lot in the Analects, that not even confucius can say for sure what is right or wrong. what better way to show lwj is still a perfect confucian than have him paraphrase confucius himself?

“...WangJi was a model for the disciples when he was young, and a prominent cultivator when he grew up. In his whole life he had been honest and righteous and immaculate--you were the only mistake he made!”

here’s the confirmation that the world and even his family thinks of him as a perfect gentleman, the top tier of society, and it was all thrown away for wwx. this is just so heavy. the mistake thing? thats not only because lwj is fraternizing with an enemy. lxc and the rest of the sect who knew are terrified this will forever corrupt lwj personally, not just publicly. lwj was so devoted to believing this was the right thing to do he offered up everything he had. the gravity of this decision is insane. it’s very obvious that he loves wwx, it’s just that he struggles a lot internally to accept everything that is happening.

as for helping wwx leave after the massacre, is this gentleman-ly of lwj? was it actually in-line with his image? is it more honorable to save someone who is dying, at the cost of your own health, than to look away? isn't looking away a form of resentment? i wasn't able to find a specific passage about bystander-ness, but personally i think it qualifies as "bad intentions." there is also this passage for what it's worth, originally it was about government suppression:

12.19: "...What do you say to killing the unprincipled for the good of the principled?" Confucius replied, "...why should you use killing at all?..."

lwj is always more actions than words, and he was not fucking around. his core beliefs really haven't changed, and remain very strong throughout his life. he is still righteous enough to accept his punishment, graceful enough to search for wwx's body since there was no one else to do the funeral rites (10.22/10.15), caring enough to take in a-yuan, upright enough to still spend his years going where the chaos is.

just with this one action, the audience knows he has come to terms with realizing that authority isn't always just, and neither is the public opinion/opinion of other gentlemen. he has reconciled. this is him standing for what he believes is right. this is his devotion. this is his own choice. just. poetic cinema...

anyway that's it for my first meta post! i would love to hear your thoughts, feelings, opinions, discussions, other meta ideas, whatever! thank u for reading! <3

[thunder-at-dawn]

Echos In The Caverns

word count: 2,096

summary: while exploring, tubbo made an incredible discovery, and was desperate to show his best friend in grand-tubbo-fashion! however, that was just the one thing that led them to discover a large problem.

if you couldn’t tell, this fic was heavily inspired by the minecraft caves and cliffs update, i think it turned out nicely :D also if you tag this as ship i will personally hunt you down and whack you with my block button

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

Tubbo_: TOMMY

Tubbo_: TOMMY ARE YOU THERE

Tommyinnit: what

Tubbo_: wheree are u

Tommyinnit: i’m at my house

Tommyinnit: why

Tubbo_: can yoyou come to your hotel

Tubbo_: and wear clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty!!!!!

Tommyinnit: why??

Tubbo_: you’ll see!!!

…What?

Tommy always knew that Tubbo tended to be quite the… holder of schemes. Good schemes? Maybe. Bad schemes? Also maybe. It really just depended on the day. It wasn’t irregular of him to not say what his plans were either, the young boy was often one for surprises.

Tommy looked down at the clothes he was currently wearing. A red and white baseball shirt and some khakis, also known as what he wore pretty much everyday. He had plenty of other shirts and pants that looked similar, (if not, the exact same) so it would be fine if he got just one outfit a little wet.

The young boy headed out of his small residence, which wasn’t at all far from the hotel at all. He walked down the prime path, entering the gate and heading for the front of the hotel, only to see no one there.

“Tubbo? Where are ya, bee boy?” He mumbled under his breath, looking for his best friend. He wandered around to the back… maybe he was there?

And there he was.

Tubbo had his back turned, placing a line of redstone dust along the ground. He stood up, wiping the dust off of his hands, then turned around with a grin.

“Tommy!!” He ran over to his best friend, engulfing the other in a tight hug.

“Tubbo! You’re gonna get fuckin’ redstone dust all over me.” He grumbled, though a smile was on his face. He could feel Tubbo take his hands, guiding him over and walking the two of them next to a lever that wasn’t there the last time Tommy was here.

“Okay, so earlier, I decided to dig straight down, right at this spot.”

“Idiot.” Tommy poked fun at his best friend.

“I thought it would be a bad idea too, but let me finish. Anyways, I just wanted to do it because, y’know, I wanted to see where it would take me! And man, I discovered something incredible, Tommy.” Tubbo turned around leaning down a flipping the switch of the lever.

“So that’s what you’re going to be showing me, right?” Tommy crossed his arms.

“Mhm!” The older of the two stood back up, looking at Tommy with excitement in his eyes. “Just be sure to be prepared for the drop!”

“…The drop? Wh-”

Before Tommy could finish, he heard the sound of pistons and felt the ground disappear underneath him. Before he knew it, the two of them were falling. It was pitch black, and the two of them were falling and screaming. They let out two different screams, Tubbo’s out of thrill and adrenaline and Tommy’s out of pure fear.

It took about ten seconds of falling and screaming for them to finally see light, but Tommy was too terrified to open his eyes. Instead, he was met with the chilling feeling of cold water. Panicked, he opened his eyes as much as he could and swam to the surface, gasping for air.

“TUBBO! WHAT THE FUCK?!” He yelled at the other, who had also risen from the surface. “What the fuck was that for?! You can’t just make us drop like that with no warning, I thought we were gonna die! I-“

“Oh, quit whining and swim to the shore!” Tubbo brushed him off. Tommy huffed, but obeyed, throwing his arms in front of him to propel him forward. Tubbo got to the shore first, and pulled him out of the water.

“Tubbo, why the fuck did you think that was a good idea?!”

“Tommy- Tommy, calm down. One, I would never kill you on purpose. And two, this was the easiest and quickest way down! Anyways, look behind you. Turn around.” Tubbo said to him. Tommy rolled his eyes and turned, expecting nothing grand, but his eyes widened in shock.

It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

A roaring waterfall poured water into the lake they had just dropped into, and sides of the waterfall were lined with purple gemstones. Ores lined the stone walls and lush moss covered the ceiling, draping down. Small, jagged rocks on the ceiling were covered by moss, and it looked like someone, likely Tubbo, had placed torches and lanterns around the area.

“What… What is this?” Tommy asked, jaw agape.

“What you’re looking at is the coolest cave the two of us will ever lay eyes upon.” Tubbo grinned, placing a hand on Tommy’s wet shoulder.

“…Holy shit, Tubbo! This is fucking incredible! A-And you found this just through digging down?!”

“Yep! Now come on, there’s tons of cool things here that you gotta see!” The ram hybrid grabbed Tommy’s hand, running around the lake and dragging him along.

Tommy honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anything this amazing before. He got to climb hills of stone and ore, swim in the grand lake, and he and Tubbo even found an axolotl! They took it in a bucket with water, and since it was pink, they agreed on the name of “Technoblade Jr.”

Eventually though, all good things had to come to an end. The torches wouldn’t fend off monsters forever, so the two of them decided it was best to go back to the surface. Tubbo said that he had dug out a staircase through the stone that led to the surface, somewhere near Eret’s castle.

There was only one small problem. They couldn’t find it.

“I-It should be this way!”

“Tubbo, we’ve been down here for, like- for fuckin’ ever!”

“Okay, we’ve been here for a few hours at the most. And majority of that isn’t even us searching for the stairs.” Tubbo rolled his eyes.

Tommy sighed as he and Tubbo only found another dead end, a wall covered in vines and moss. “Face it, Tubbo. We’re lost. We’re fuckin’ lost, and we’re going to have to spend the night here.” He set a torch on the wall, taking a moment to sit down.

“Oh, don’t say that, Tommy!” His friend sat down next to him on the ground. Tommy crossed his arms, looking away and making Tubbo frown. “Look, we can always make a new staircase! It’ll take a while, but we can do it!” He nudged Tommy lightly with his elbow, but only got more of the silent treatment.

Tubbo huffed in annoyance. Tommy tended to get silent when things didn’t go his way, which was understandable. But it would get frustrating to Tubbo sometimes, he wouldn’t lie. And what’s worse was that he could clearly tell that Tommy was upset, and he wasn’t saying anything about it. He lightly leaned against Tommy’s shoulder, the silence being oddly comforting for a moment.

Tubbo stood up, leaving Tommy to mope by himself. He had to admit, this was a cool place to be lost in. The sights were incredible, and there were so many things he hadn’t found in caves before. Glowing squids, axolotls, crystals, cave vines…

Cave vines.

That’s it! He knew exactly what would cheer Tommy up! Why didn’t he think of this sooner?

Tubbo walked towards the longest vine he could find that draped from the stone ceiling, standing on his toes to pull it down and grinning as the vine snapped in two. He threaded the vine through his fingers, glad to find that it wasn’t rough and didn’t have anything sharp on it. He sat down next to Tommy, holding the vine in his hands.

“Tommy…” He leaned towards his friend, still not getting a response. Quietly, he draped the vine around Tommy’s neck. The other noticed, but said nothing. That is, not until his shoulders scrunched up when he felt Tubbo pull the vine across his neck.

“Tubbo-” He said softly, slamming his lips shut afterwards.

“What’s up, Tommy?” He asked, lightly scratching the other’s neck with his fingers.

“Where’s that smile, big man?” Tubbo used his other hand to poke his friend in the side a couple of times, grinning as he saw a smile start to form at the corner of Tommy’s lips.

“Tuhubbo, quihit it!” He giggled, starting to move away before Tubbo wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, trapping him in a half-hug.

“There we go!” Tubbo scribbled his fingers across Tommy’s stomach, making the young boy squeal and bury his head into Tubbo’s shoulder as an attempt to hide his face. Tommy laughed, trying to grab at Tubbo’s hands.

“Don’t even try to fight back, mister.” He rolled his eyes. “I wanna make sure that you keep smiling! These caves are no place to be sad!”

“TuHUHUB- *snrk* TUHUBBO! Dohohon’t!” Tommy snorted, eventually grabbing onto one of Tubbo’s wrists. Tubbo brought his other hand back to drill his fingers back into Tommy’s stomach, the other laughing and eventually grabbing onto Tubbo’s other wrist. Both of them grinned as residual laughter spilled out of Tommy’s mouth.

“You’re so fuckin’ mean.” Tommy huffed out, unable to fight a grin.

“Oh, come on, you were sad! What else am I supposed to do, not what I do whenever you’re sad?” Tubbo rolled his eyes, smirking. “Besides, you didn’t fight back. We know you liked it.”

Tommy blinked, feeling his cheeks warm up, then narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re asking for it.” He growled, holding the other’s hands above his head.

Tubbo squeaked, already starting to squirm. “Wahait, no! Nonono, dohon’t!” He said, unable to stop giggles from coming out from hiding.

“Aww, what’s wrong, Tubbo? Are you scared? Scared of just a little tiny bit of tickling?” Tommy smirked, holding his wrists firmly and letting go, shooting his hands into his friend’s underarms. Tubbo immediately broke, instantly leaning towards the ground to try and get away.

“NoHOHO- gehehehet oHOHOut of thehehere!” Tubbo giggled, twisting his body to try and push off Tommy’s hands.

“You did the exact same to me! It’s only natural to expect revenge!” Tommy scribbled more rapidly, grinning as the other squealed and started to kick his legs. “Wow, Tubbo. Sometimes, I honestly forget how fuckin’ ticklish you are. And then I rediscover it for myself, and I remember just how ballistic you go every time!”

“ShUHUT UHUhup, yohou dihiHIhick!” The ram hybrid yelled through giggles.

“Hey! Well that’s just rude now, isn’t it? Guess you need to learn a lesson, huh?” Tommy asked, chuckling as Tubbo rapidly shook his head. Tommy started to squeeze up and down his thighs, and the other squealed, throwing his head back and hugging himself.

“TOHOhoHOmMY!! NohohoHOHO!!”

“Oh, you brought this onto yourself, don’t even try to “Tommy, no” me!” Tommy played around, trying to see what would work back. Squeezing the back of Tubbo’s thighs made him squeak, squeezing rapidly up and down made him squeal, and raking nails up and down the inner thighs made him cackle.

“TOHOHOMMY!! PleheHEAHase, I- StohoHOhop!!” Tubbo rocked back and forth.

“Hmmm… alright.” Tommy said after a moment of thinking, drawing his hands back.

“Wahait, really?” A giggly Tubbo was quite surprised, starting to sit up.

“…No.” Tommy smirked, suddenly pushing the other’s shirt up, leaning down, and blowing a raspberry on his bare stomach. Tubbo shrieked, retreating back to the ground instantaneously.

“NOHOHOHO- AHAHAHAHA!!! TOHOHOHOMMEHEY!!!” Tubbo squirmed around, trying to get away as Tommy now scribbled and clawed as his stomach with all ten fingers. His laughter echoed throughout the caves, filling Tommy with glee.

“Come on, you deserve this for all of the times you got back at me!” His friend grinned, leaning down to blow another raspberry right onto Tubbo’s belly button. The ram’s laughter went silent momentarily, then came back in the form of cackles with hiccups mixed in. Tommy stopped, laughing softly and ruffling Tubbo’s hair.

“You feeling better, big man?” Tubbo asked with a stupidly large grin on his face.

“Much better.” Tommy grinned, standing up and extending a hand towards his friend, helping him off of the ground. “Now, come on, grab your pickaxe. That staircase isn’t gonna build itself now, innit?”

Tubbo nodded, pulling out a pickaxe and starting to help Tommy dig out a path to the surface. He looked behind him one last time, deciding that he needed to come back here again sometime with Tommy, and maybe some other friends.

After all, it’s good to go back to places that bring you happy memories, right?

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Hey i really love your blog!!! I just plucked the courage to actually send u an ask fhdjhd but GOSH i love your video edits and your gifs and your meta article posts, you're so articulate and you can explain/describe moments in a way that makes me go "oh wow, i cant believe i haven't seen it that way before!!" Haha ANYWAYS i'm just here to say that i completely agree with what all u said, Free creators might do a lil fanservice here and there for the 25 ships that exists within the fandom's circle, but rinharu's storyline is clearly the most romantic one! And i'd argue it's the one closest to being canon esp after part 1, i mean the fact that they put such an explosive emotional outburst right at the end of the second to the last movie means a lot. It's like reinforcing the fact that this series has always been about them, and everything that has happened only happened either because they met or they grew appart and miss eachother. I kinda feel like maybe.. juust maayyybe there's a chance KA wants to make the ship canon, since it's the last movie and they want to end it on a highnote maybe (bcs honestly i think the only reason they've been holding back is purely bcs of the merch sales, since they don't have a problem showing a wholesome lesbian love story in kobayashi maid dragon) butt i could be wrong, maybe i'm just overly optimistic and delusional, they could somehow ruin it and give an ending that panders to all the ships again 😅🥲, but at least there's a clear-cut guarantee that part 2 would dedicate a large portion of it fixing rin and haru's fight!!! Oohh how can i wait another 6 months now!!😭😭 (sorry for the long ask btw!! 🙏🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️)

OMG thank you so so much!! For watching my vids too! ❤️❤️❤️ It really means a lot to me! Ahhhh wow, thats the longest ask I've ever recieved! 😍 I'm trying to explain myself so hard lol I'm glad its appreciated, bc sometimes I'm like "I don't fucking know how to say this" xD

Well, you know me, I only care for one ship, which is the only one with confirmed info that they're both actually gay and have mutual feelings for each other. There are some other ships in free! I'm fine with (those do not include Rin or Haru in them xD), but I just mostly don't care, bc after reading all the stuff, you can see that in some of those to one the other one is actually like his second option, which I just do not like. Others I just don't even see, bc again to me who witnessed great close male friendships and having two sisters who I'm very close to, I just do not see anything romantic in that.

It's not just Free! tbh, it's like any sports anime these days. They see two guys walking together, it's a ship. And like no one cares if they're just bros. Like I'd get i they did some fanservice fanservice, but like I never saw anyone in Free! crossing the line the way rinharu do. I can without thinking much name you 10 rh moments that no matter how hard you think can't be explain as being bros, but can't name one when it comes to others. I just find some ppl shipping everyone with everyone weird sometimes. It's like western fans see like some eastern actors or singers slap each other ass lovingly and they're like "oh they're fucking" I'm like "yeah, ofc all 500 of them, you're absolutely right". And Free! doesn't do anything even like that, I just do not get sometimes like what moment even brought on some ships. I'm genuinely confused. Albert and Haru? You fucking fell from a sakura tree or smth? I'm...

I'm especially confused when it comes to guys, whose character type is who I call "I only want this one and if I can't have it, then I'm ok" xD. It just always surprised me, when they try to pair up them with someone else, it's like a complete ooc.

I'm also not into this whole "well, if there are gays in this anime, than everyone there is gay". I'm like... huh. It's like with KNB and MDZS I had same feeling. It's like you have already couples there who are canon/borderline canon, why do you need another 10 who don't even interact or just don't even go there? I'm always so confused in those situations. Or like wangxian is married and some are like "no, I actually don't like it, let me write a fic when they're with other ppl". Lan Zhan... being in love or having sex with someone else? Yeah, that's not Lan Zhan, dude, you're writing about someone else. Might as well change the name at this point.

But last time I went to twitter someone had a thread about how if they make s4 of Free! they should mainly explore there Momo's angst (and no, it wasn't a joke), so I'm already like, I'm just.. nothing will surprise me no more. But I'm forever gonna be confused.

Yeah, I eel you about "going there". I mean seeing part of it, it just kinda cemented my confusion, bc I do not get how it can be considered platonic. We were just discussing since yesterday with @freeseafirefly how I now even more perplexed and do not understand how they will resolve it without going into relationship territory. It's just our point here is that like... no one forced them to go there (I mean its not like this whole fandom has some wild expectations or anything already), we were waiting or our usual friendship and swimming and maybe tiny conflict about struggles of pro-careers and some usual rh implications (maybe all the rh gay in dramas as always). Not some pure fanfiction coming to life here haha.

Like why I'm laughing is bc I twice used in my "fics" bringing up him leaving Haru as a force to push the confession, bc there's no way if he adresses this it won't lead to this. And now we not only have this (bc Haru just basically layed it out there), but an actual scene of him playing on their feelings for each other and a literal image of Rin leaving and "taking Haru's heart with him" to the point when he's for the first time in his life openly crying on the ground. And it's not like this scene can be interpreted as anything else, the whole fandom talks same, bc the whole fight was just about them, what Haru said was just about them, there's a literal boom of his heart getting out of his chest, before he falls and now he's heartless.

So our question is like... why go there?

It's like some say that they might still resolve it with "they're special to each other" and swimming, but still like we already knew that, there was no reason to go that far is what I'm saying. And to think that it was planned since forever giving the clues is like... ???

The whole spoon theme also throw me on the loop because like, lets be honest, it's wedding themed. And that part of the interview about part 2 there also made me go...?????? Because I mean, huh?

This is just all in all very interesting turn of events to say the least. I do not see the point of all of this if its not what I think it is, esp after seeing tweets like "even I see a rh wedding and I'm mh T_T". It's just all very unsubtle, that's why we're confused.

Like who knows, maybe we'll really by some magic turn of events get lucky and they really decided that since its the ending, it's okay to go for it. But I also don't wanna to hype myself much, I'm already really happy with it, just bc again, this scene already proves all of my points.

And yeah, I'm sure they'll pander to everyone, bc it's the end and etc and we have to handle everything on the good note and there's a whole line of ppl who's obsessed with us, esp with Haru xD, but like bromance pandering and romance pandering are different things, you know *wiggles eyebrows* and u know who always gets the second one.

[cianishere]

why richard robbins is a king among men, or an analysis of the maurice (1987) soundtrack

hello, i am gay, a former band kid, and a slut for classical music analysis…… so i’ve been wanting to do an in-depth analysis of Richard Robbins’ absolutely breathtaking soundtrack for Maurice (1987) for some time. it’s an incredibly emotionally moving work of art, but i also feel like there’s so much care and thought and soul put into the pieces of the soundtrack, and Robbins absolutely deserves all the credit in the world for writing the perfect accompaniment to the film. the songs have lives of their own, outside of the film, but they also breathe a certain life into the scenes when paired with the performances of the actors and the cinematography and camera work. the soundtrack means so much to me, so i wanted to take a moment (or a few thousand words or so) to expand on all of its intricacies. i’m not a professional musician or a music student, i’ve j been playing woodwinds for over a decade and can find my way around a guitar and piano, so these are my thoughts and interpretations as a musician. feel free to share yours! this was a bit of an undertaking, so i recommend reading while listening, and i hope u enjoy!

(the pieces are listed in order of their appearance in the film, not the album)

PROLOGUE - THE LESSON

The opening piece is a very traditional overture, setting the mood for the film and foreshadowing the (musical) events to come. It begins with a mysterious, almost eerie sound with pizzicato in the low strings and high woodwind and harp lines before opening into the dominating melody in the high strings. Though the melody is grand and moving, it also has an air of hesitancy, almost melancholy, and in this moment, we’re introduced to Maurice’s musical signature, the clarinet (specifically, the low clarinet line). The low clarinet triplets and the sets of five recurring notes in the low flute and violin create a sense of impatience and forward motion, as we can sense young Maurice’s uncertainty in his conversation with his headmaster. This section transitions into a solo in the English horn, which Robbins uses to represent the idyllic, pastoral English countryside. Here, it seems to signal both the natural surroundings that the scene takes place in, as well as the pastoral beauty of childlike innocence. This solo honestly gets me EVERY TIME, it’s so gorgeous and the gradual layering of other instruments underneath is mesmerizing. The piece ends with shrieking upward woodwind scales, capturing the sense of impending fear that we can sense in young Maurice.

AT THE PIANOLA

This piece is a bit strange to listen to outside of the film, as it plays in the scene as Clive and Maurice play Featherstonehaugh’s pianola in his Cambridge dorm room. The piece captures Clive and Maurice’s pianola playing, which echoes the thematic melody introduced in the opening composition, but the single piano line is quickly swept away by a traditional string orchestra before moving into a call-and-response between the high strings and high woodwinds. I always thought this piece was so beautiful in its development, growing from a simple piano melody into a fully orchestrated concerto. The melody, particularly in its piano form, always struck me as very French, reminiscent of the French Romantic pianists with some impressionist elements as well. The transition from piano melody into the full orchestra is welcome, but overwhelming—it evokes the excitement and intensity of falling in love, as the film reaches the precipice of Clive’s confession. The instrumentation is also fascinating here: as I mentioned previously, Maurice is musically represented by the clarinet and/or woodwind melodies, but Clive usually comes through as high strings. This piece is pushed forward by the strings, as the violin and viola take on the melody under the piano and are followed by the woodwinds. The woodwinds follow the strings in a call-and-response pattern, musically establishing Clive’s lead in their romance, with Maurice following along with his advances, especially at first.

MISERERE (GREGORIO ALLEGRI)

UGH I have so much to say about this piece. I want to start with its origins, which is a setting of Psalm 51 to music, at first for the exclusive use in the Sistine Chapel during Holy Week (a nod to this scene taking place in the spring, around Easter). We all know this piece and the scene it accompanies, as those shots of Cambridge (and that wicker chair) are forever immortalized in my heart (<333) The lyrics are incredibly significant, as Psalm 51 is a confession of sin by David—specifically, of his feelings of lust for Bathsheba.

Have mercy upon me, O God: after Thy great goodness. According to the multitude of Thy mercies, do away mine offences. Wash me thoroughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my faults: and my sin is ever before me. Against Thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that Thou mightest be justified in Thy saying, and clear when Thou art judged.

David is asking for mercy for his act of sin, and to be “cleansed” from his lustful act by God.

Make me a clean heart, O God: and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from Thy presence: and take not Thy Holy Spirit from me. O give me the comfort of Thy help again: and stablish me with Thy free Spirit.

He prays for God to return to his life, and to give him salvation again.

I think this choice of psalm is SO fascinating, as it can take on two meanings. On one hand, it represents the feelings of guilt that both Maurice and Clive feel for their attraction to each other, knowing that their feelings are considered to be sinful in their (and the societal) understanding of Christianity. In a way, this piece can signify both Clive and Maurice asking for that salvation and asking to be saved from their desire. On the other hand, however, I think the choice to overlay this particular piece with Maurice and Clive’s first moment of physical intimacy is critical in interpreting its meaning. Rather than asking for salvation from God, the psalm’s lyrics could also represent Maurice and Clive asking for salvation from each other through their desire. There are a few points in the psalm that could be read in a rather different light in this context, particularly “Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord: and my mouth shall shew [show] Thy praise.” The “high spirit” that they are searching for, in this case, is not the forgiveness of sin by God, but rather the intimacy and physical affection of a lover. (As Forster points out in a later section of the book, one’s God and one’s lover can be equal “incentives to virtue.”) I feel like this psalm is being used in both ways: as a reminder of the internal and external pressure that Maurice and Clive face, but also to musically express the reciprocal desire they are seeking from each other as they begin to explore the physical side of their relationship. This piece is also just so damn beautiful, the high C just gets me every fucking time. The specific vocal arrangement—and the excerpt of that arrangement—that Robbins decided to use highlights a solo female soprano, sounding almost like a Greek siren. As her voice emerges from the varying vocal textures, there is a sense of seductiveness, but there is also a loneliness there, as she stands alone among the choir. The choice to center the soloist was a beautiful way to show the loneliness that Maurice and Clive feel as they both continue to hold that fear and hesitancy about their feelings and desire.

THE CAFE ROYAL

This piece plays during the infamous “to the ladies!” scene, during which the Halls and the Durhams are dining together, and Clive announces his decision to become a barrister and enter politics. This piece begins as a classic, grandiose waltz, representing the glamor and high society lifestyle that the two wealthy families live within. At the beginning especially, it seems almost overstated, hinting at the façade of British upper-class life that Maurice desperately despises. As the piece continues, a duet of low clarinet and oboe emerge with a woeful melody that is built upon on its repetition by a dark solo cello line. (I don’t play double reeds or cello but they’re two of my favorites, and all I can say is that Richard Robbins knew how to pick instruments that fuck, plain and simple.) The contrast in mood created between this grand waltz sound and the individual instruments emphasizes the trapped, isolated feeling that both Maurice and Clive feel as upper-class British men, expected to have careers, marry, and build families. Stuck in the middle of their constructed lives, Maurice and Clive are represented by the duet and solo lines, standing out among society and desperate for an escape.

IN GREECE / THE WEDDING

This piece opens with a haunting melody that sounds almost like a chorus—I’m still not entirely sure what the instrumentation of this section is, but it sounds like high woodwinds and strings layered together and/or an echoey, chime-like percussion instrument. The lone melodic line overlaid with harp runs (again, Robbins said I will exclusively highlight instruments that fuck hard, and ignore everything else) in the beginning brings the same sort of haunting loneliness as in “Miserere,” evoking the duality of the Greek siren as well as the hymnal church choir. Gradually, the piece builds into a waltz through the development of a pizzicato bass line as well as running woodwind and string harmonic lines. I think the use of a waltz in this section of the piece is a symbol of the bitter end of Maurice and Clive’s relationship, as the minor key and legato melody in the high woodwinds gives the waltz a mournful quality.

The opening section of the piece is quickly interrupted by the abrupt and angry sound of an organ. Rather than romantic, this interlude is loud and overwhelming, representing Clive’s overzealous transition into heterosexual marriage and family life. The interlude then transitions into a beautiful but incredibly sad melody, reminiscent of the music that might accompany a funeral service. This short but emotive section is probably one of my favorites in the entire soundtrack—as it plays, we can see Maurice exiting the wedding chapel after Clive and Anne, and that hidden pain and fear and loneliness is brought to life by this melody.

PENDERSLEIGH IN GLOOM

Simultaneously romantic and melancholy, this short piano interlude demonstrates the inspiration that Robbins took from classical French pianists. This composition reminds me of a transition section within a Debussy piece as the uneven tempo and dynamics exude emotion, conflict, and hesitation. In this moment in the narrative, between Clive’s marriage and Maurice’s meeting of Alec, Maurice is in a state of contemplation and uncertainty, and Robbins has reflected that perfectly.

MISS EDNA MAY’S SURPRISE / THE TRAIN

Though this piece is definitely not the most sonically appealing, I think it is the most texturally interesting on the soundtrack. The piano melody in “Miss Edna Mae’s Surprise” begins as a playful, jaunty, idyllic piece, but quickly builds drama and transitions into the surreal and eerie. The melody wavers between fun and nightmarish, never fully settling into one, but establishing tension through the contrast between the two. As the piece builds layers of woodwinds and strings, it continues this contrast between the expected, playful melody and something more sinister before suddenly merging into a screeching, forceful ending with high woodwinds and piano. Similar to “The Café Royal,” this piece represents the internal conflict that Maurice faces and his fear of settling down into the heterosexual family structure. While there is a sense of joy and happiness on the surface level, as Maurice acts the part to uphold societal norms, internally he is incredibly afraid of being trapped in a cycle of marriage and family that would be unfulfilling and dishonest to his selfhood.

The next section of this piece, “The Train,” is one of the most creative compositions I’ve heard in a long time, and I was honestly blown away when I listened to it closely (and LOUDLY). Rather than using train sound effects, Robbins uses the sounds of the orchestra to emulate the different sounds one might hear on a steam engine train. The rhythmic beat of the railway tracks underneath the train car are created by repetitive staccato notes in the strings and percussion. The airy, legato sound of the steam engine is actually created by single reed woodwind instruments played in a particular way. The woodwind players are blowing air into their instruments with a very loose embouchure, which is the muscle tension created by the lips around the mouthpiece that forces the wooden reed to vibrate and create sound. By loosening their embouchure, the players are blowing air into their instruments without the reed vibrating, resulting in a sound resembling air or stream escaping from engine pipes (can u tell im a clarinet player :-)). The melody of this piece emerges in the high woodwinds, including upper clarinets, flutes, and oboe. The melody line is eerie and tense, much like the mood of the train scene in the film, and the blended lines are erratic and dissonant. They seem to echo and fade in strange ways, mimicking the sound of an approaching or departing train whistle. Robbins is able to capture the sounds of a steam engine locomotive while also establishing the tension and conflict in Maurice’s character in this scene. As a woodwind player, I am in complete awe at Robbins’ creativity in building this composition, and I honestly think his ability to layer these sounds to create such a complex, textured sonic landscape is nothing short of genius.

THE MOONLIT NIGHT (a tiny bit nsfw, feel free to skip!)

Maurice’s nightmare of the “sinking ship” of heterosexuality is brought to life through an eerie, isolated English horn solo over tense string chords, eventually transitioning into a low clarinet melody, Maurice’s musical signature. Slowly, as Maurice’s nightmare fades away and he wakes up from his sleep, the low clarinet melody diminishes and is overtaken by low, warm chords in the lower woodwinds (bass clarinet, my beloved <3). These low sounds are interrupted by hesitant but curious flute runs, through which Robbins introduces Alec’s musical manifestation. The flute sounds grow faster in tempo and more intense in sound as Alec watches Maurice from outside his room but reduce to a single line of low strings, woodwinds, and percussion as he climbs through Maurice’s window. This ominous and minimal sound is gradually layered with sudden high strings, led by Maurice’s low clarinet, before fading away into near silence until the first touch suddenly takes the piece into swift motion. It develops into a beautiful and intricate waltz as Maurice and Alec embrace, representing their intimacy through the style of a partnered ballroom dance. The melody of the waltz, layered over staccato strings, is an ascending, fluttering scale that begins in the clarinet before finishing in the flute. Robbins’ choice to compose the melody as a shared scale between Maurice and Alec’s respective instrumental representation is a perfect way to express their first night together, and the airy, light, understated flute is a brilliant way to embody the spirit of Alec’s character. In the final section of the piece, as the melody grows irregular and begins to fade away, the ascending lines and rhythmic pizzicato strings begin to mirror the gasping breaths and soft moans of intimacy, constructing a gorgeously imaginative musical landscape for this critical scene.

ALEC’S FAREWELL

This short but expressive piece captures Maurice’s transition from dejected acceptance of Alec’s departure to a tentative hope as he realizes that Alec has missed his boat to Buenos Aires. Plucked bass and a fragmentary string melody overlay a tense, oscillating clarinet line, representing Maurice’s internal anticipation as he anxiously fidgets in the taxi ride back to Pendersleigh. At this point, Maurice does not have confirmation that Alec has purposefully missed his boat to reunite with him, but the suspense created by Robbins’ minimalistic composition leaves room for such a possibility, without completely revealing its certainty.

THE BOATHOUSE

This piece begins as Maurice makes his way towards the boathouse on the evening of Alec’s expected departure. He has just spoken to Clive, confessing his love for Alec, and now hopes to be reunited with his lover in the boathouse, the safe haven that Alec had promised Maurice after their first night together. Continuing where “Alec’s Farewell” left off with an oscillating clarinet line and minimal strings, the piece quickly erupts into motion as a solo clarinet begins a low triplet melody, accompanied by strings and a solo oboe harmony (the clarinet line is fucking FIRE and I would pay so much goddamn money for the sheet music). The clarinet solo moves swiftly, desperately, shifting between major and minor keys to represent Maurice’s restless search for Alec. As he enters the boathouse, the clarinet ascends a scale before lingering on a high A, as if he is calling for Alec. When the call is not answered, the clarinet line repeats, bringing Maurice’s anticipation to its height until he opens a second door and finds Alec resting within the room behind it. As the two meet and share a moment of reconciliation (“So, you got the wire, then?”), a lingering bass note (another one of Alec’s musical representations) swells into serene, legato woodwind chords that echo until their final kiss, and Alec’s “Now we shan’t ever be parted, and that’s finished.”

While listening to this song more closely, I was completely struck by its similarities to Leonard Bernstein’s “Somewhere” from the 1957 musical West Side Story. The final chords in “The Boathouse” are strikingly similar to the final high woodwind chords echoed by a low bass line in “Somewhere.” Bernstein also highlights clarinets throughout the musical, particularly to emphasize the vocals of the protagonist, Tony, while using flutes to underscore the voice of María, Tony’s love interest. Aside from the musical similarities, I think the thematic parallels between the story of Tony and María are worth mentioning as a source of musical inspiration for Robbins. A retelling of Romeo and Juliet set in 1950s New York, Bernstein’s West Side Story is a classic tragedy of an unconventional relationship that is unaccepted by society. Although not sharing in its tragic ending, Maurice definitely builds on the cultural trope of two star-crossed lovers desperate for an escape from a prejudiced society. Bernstein himself was gay, although he spent much of his career closeted, and West Side Story (particularly “Somewhere,” but also “One Hand, One Heart,” “Tonight,” and “Finale”) became emblematic of the struggles that gay couples face, especially with the popularity of musical theatre among American gay men. The lyrics (copied below, but I highly recommend finding the 1957 ballet version or the 1961 film version!) represent Maurice and Alec’s story beautifully, and the fact that Robbins was inspired by this piece of media that holds so much significance for queer people when composing the soundtrack for Maurice makes my gay little heart grow three sizes <3

There's a place for us, Somewhere a place for us. Peace and quiet and open air Wait for us, somewhere.

There's a time for us, Some day a time for us, Time together with time spare, Time to learn, time to care. Some day, Somewhere, We'll find a new way of living, We'll find a way of forgiving. Somewhere, Somewhere . . . There's a place for us, A time and place for us. Hold my hand and we're halfway there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there Somehow, Some day, Somewhere!

CLIVE AND ANNE

For Clive’s final scene, Robbins returns to piano and string instrumentation in the melody, representing a return to the traditional life that Clive now finds himself living with Anne. This variation on Clive’s signature melody, however, is significantly slowed down, almost to the tempo of a funeral march or dirge. As he shuts each of the windows, eventually stopping for a brief moment to reminisce on his time with Maurice, the melody grows increasingly loud and desperate as the high woodwinds are layered in. The sudden and dramatic development of this piece sound like a futile cry out for help, as Clive remains trapped in a prison of his own creation. The composition ends without a concluding chord, tense and unresolved. It’s fascinating to me that we can hear Robbins’ simultaneous resentment and pity for Clive—though the piece is deeply sorrowful, Robbins does not leave Clive with a satisfying ending, choosing to keep him suspended in the societal purgatory that he chose for himself. 

END TITLES

Are you crying yet? No? I don’t believe you. Robbins establishes the ending to the story by building the piece off of a gentle, pastoral variation of Maurice’s low clarinet melody. The legato chords and balance of high and low instrumentation recall Robbins’ musical sampling of “Somewhere” before the melody shifts into a call-and-answer duet between the clarinet (alongside an oboe) and flute. Much like the clarinet and flute duet in “The Moonlit Night,” the two lines blend together—but in this final composition, Robbins has written the two parts as complementary, yet distinctly different, rather than imitations of one another or two segments of a single line. The melody becomes a conversation between two harmonizing entities who are sharing in the creation of something wholly new. The duet tapers off into an English horn solo over a harp line, bringing back the idyllic English countryside that we first saw young Maurice exploring in “Prologue – The Lesson.” In this final piece, Robbins adds on to this solo with the clarinet and flute before the melody spreads throughout the full orchestra and builds to a grandiose and rousing finale. I think the English horn solo is the part that breaks me every time because of its introduction in the very beginning of the story— through this understated melody, Robbins is assuring us that Maurice did stay true to himself, and he did find his happiness, though it may not be what Ducie or anyone else wanted for him. Maurice and Alec in the clarinet and flute, alongside the English horn, managed to find harmony in each other and peace in a life built on a love they shared, and nothing more.

[heartfullyferal]

Lizzy and Wesley Are Prettier Than You x

Cue Lizzy busting out of the bathroom to Wesley, with a relieved smile reaching her eyes, and a pregnancy test in her hand. In the background, Orion is cooing away to himself in the play room, enjoying stacking his blocks and contemplating life.

"Good news! I'm n o t pregnant!" Which is a completely valid stance on life, and much more likely than you think, because fertility can be SUCH a fickle thing. Tony and Ash keep randomly getting to three weeks pregnant out of nowhere with zero planning, and honestly they should explore their "options". : )

@the-11-doctor​

Right now, it seems like Wesley has more of a supply of pregnancy tests than condoms, but that's not the case! He's a teenager, of course he has condoms - but he's also got the lack of brain cells to continuously forget about them. And they were drunk.

He's very relieved to hear they didn't have an Orion 2.0 after last night's celebrations, but that doesn't stop him from passing the smile over from Lizzy to Orion, who is completely oblivious having the time of his life (and not running up to them begging them for a sibling or for them to get married because that's not what kids do at NOT EVEN A YEAR OLD MARIA). Even with Wesley's fertility rate - he can't defy human biology. The male is not the deciding factor.

"It wouldn't have been a bad thing." Wesley's speaking in a lower level as if Orion could understand him at all. "But we're not ready. His life has just started!"

‘It wouldn’t have been a bad thing.’

Lizzy breathes out with a l o t of relief at those words, sighing away a l l tensions and anticipations and worries she was spiralling around with in that en-suite. Everything’s okay. It’s strange, that Ash has to sigh constantly with such aggression in a simple discussion with her husband Tony, as if there’s a thousand fears and worries ruining her at every second of the day around that man. “Thank you.” Lizzy notes softly back to Wes, leaning against him and gently resting her forehead against his shoulder, taking a moment.

Just thinking. “He’s only little, he needs s o much of our attention, we can’t- it would be unfair to both of them, we don’t do that here.” Some parents are actually incredibly capable of having Two Under Two! It’s amazing, Lizzy is forever impressed at their strength. But lest we forget these two just had their first year at Harvard last year, and are halfway through their s e c o n d. They are so busy, there’s no room in the schedule for a newborn without sacrificing something they love. 

“Heh,” Lizzy grinned, turning her head to look at Wesley so he could see the stupid little smile on her face. “I was totally ready to have a baby and name it God Damn It Number Two.” She laughed to herself, rolling her eyes, shaking off the moment of panic they’ve been stuck under this morning, peeking past Wes to Orion in the playroom. 

“He’s gotten so g o o d at the whole sitting up thing hasn’t he? He’s not as...top-heavy, as he was a couple w e e k s ago.” She smiled, arms tucking around his waist, leaning up to plant a kiss to his jaw. “We did really good with Oat, I’m super p r o u d.”

[greywindys]

this isn’t mean to come off as rude or anything and i really hope it doesn’t, but im a 2doc shipper as well.. How do u deal with people in the fandom always calling murdoc 2D’s abuser and manipulator? in a sense, it is true which idk makes me feel really conflicted about shipping it. how do you feel tho? do u agree with them?

Hey there! First of all, this doesn’t come off as mean or rude at all! As someone who also went back and forth about shipping 2doc at one point, I understand. Becoming used to the quality of Gorillaz writing as well as the foundation of 2Doc is something that you either come to accept or see as a dealbreaker. And that’s a decision you’ll have to make for yourself!

Anyhow, yes, people who call Murdoc 2D’s abuser are correct, even though it was played off a joke or “cartoon violence” in the early years. The inconsistent tone of the writing has always frustrated me because I think it confuses a lot of fans and has led to a lot of disagreements over what to take seriously and what not to. But going by today’s standards (all standards, really), Murdoc has been 2D’s abuser, regardless of whether they’re trying to make us laugh or not.

For me, however, it’s not so much what you start with, but what you do with it. You have to dig yourself out of a huge hole with 2Doc, but I have an interest in exploring that. There’s also SO much complexity to their relationship and despite the inconsistent lore, you can see that it’s developed over the years, that there’s a lot more going on beneath the surface. You can build so much out of what little scraps we’re given lol. I also don’t use “shipping” as a synonym for “relationship goals.” Sometimes, I’m interested because I want to see something bleak or stagnant. Sometimes I just want a character study. With 2Doc, I’m usually trying to get them to a healthy (or healthier) place, but that also doesn’t have to mean they’re together forever! It could also mean breaking up, quitting the band, not forgiving one another, and leaving one another behind etc.

That being said, there will always be people who dislike 2Doc in any form, and that’s completely understandable and valid. I try to make it clear that I’m aware of how sensitive the topic is, and that I’m open to learning/discussion about it if they ever want to engage or have a concern about something I publish. I’m also accepting of what the ship is at face value, and I don’t fault people for having a strong emotional reaction to it.

Besides that, there isn’t much more you can do except determine what the ship means to you and if you want to continue shipping it. It sounds like you’re also trying to figure out what kind of 2Doc you like? Because I’ll also say that 2017/2018 brought a lot of variety to the ship, and shipping it doesn’t have to mean that you like every kind of 2Doc out there. I think those answers will also become clearer with time as you explore the fandom. Hopefully, this response is helpful too!

[the-faultofdaedalus]

Pls tell me more about deep sea and space because that's one of the reasons I love Stevetony... Steve was submerged and Tony fell from the sky. The poetry is exquisite

space horror is just sea horror but flipped around and EXPONENTIALLY bigger. like, ive never been in space and i have never been far enough from any shore to not be able to see land, but it’s that same kind of........... feeling, to me, at least.

both are just, so, so big, so big that we as humans are not built to understand that scale. if you’re lost in the middle, there is no way you can determine which way is safe and solid ground. for me the.... horror? i guess? comes mostly from the not knowing. not neccecarily the sense of monsters in the dark? but in the sense that there are things about BOTH of these places that we will never, ever know about. it’s that loss of knowledge. that’s what gets me.

also, just, the scale of both of these things that are both utterly inhospitable to humans. on the surface, just barely touching it... we’re fine. we can duck in for small amounts of time, hold our breath. any deeper and any further in and you need special equipment and metal tanks so that just being in it’s presence won’t kill you. because it will kill you. it’s not malicious, it doesn’t hate you. it’ll kill you regardless.

like, all the horror of the open sea: being stranded on a raft, or an island, nothing but ocean further and further out to the horizon, no food no water no shelter, the only life too far to reach, the idea that even if you DID try to swim or paddle to safety you would have absolutely no guarantee that you would ever hit land, ever see another craft. you don’t know which way has safety. there’s no way to know. you might get caught up by a current and be whisked even further away from rescue, you might float into a city or a boat and be rescued almost instantly. you might be able to infer which way is safe, but mostly.... no. no you can’t. that isolation and that lack of resources, including knowledge.

that is space, but take all that and make it much, much, much, bigger. you can sail across the pacific ocean. there is a finite amount of water on earth. there is NO end to space. in this case, your continents, your islands, your safe harbors, they’re planets. insignificant dots scattered throughout nothing. in space, a fraction of a fraction of a decimal off-course can be the difference between hitting solid ground and breathable air or sailing past into void forever, and ever, and ever.

it’s not about what horrors might lurk in the depth!!!! it’s not about sharks, or space-sharks, or whateverthefuck. the fear of the ocean isn’t... oh, something might brush your toes -- though there is that as well. it’s not about what’s out there. it’s about what’s not out there, and how little is out there. it’s about how much nothing is out there. how much absolutely fuck-all is out there.

one of my favorite quotes about space and space horror of all time is “you don’t have to look up to see space, you have to look away from safety” and that’s... that’s really it. (quote is from nerdcubed’s outer wilds game of the year 2019 monologue, which is fantastic, as is the game he’s taking about)

it’s also, mostly for space specifically though again this applies to the ocean but on a smaller scale, is time. is how long things have been around, and how long things will continue to be around, and how long the universe will be around without anything else in it, and how long humans and human memory will not be around.

it’s about how long it takes to get from any point a to point b. it takes about a week for a cargo ship to get from china to canada. it used to take a lot longer, but now we have better boats.

at our current level of technology, it takes seven months to get to mars, the closest planet to us that isn’t Actually Hell (sorry mercury and venus) and that’s at the best possible lineup. It takes light forty two minutes to get to Jupiter. that’s light. that’s a forty two minute lag-time if you want to just talk to someone, who is still WELL within our solar system. There’s years of lag between what we see and what is actually happening at even the closest stars to us, and even more when it comes to actually getting there. Can you imagine being an explorer, freshly touched down on this planet that you’re going to be studying, knowing that it’s taken you thirty years to get here and that you’ll most likely never have a conversation with any of the same people ever again because it takes years to send a single message one-way? can you imagine that isolation? any journey to any other star would take so long and it’s horrifying.

Every single thing in space is so much further apart than any media ever really shows. Asteroid belts aren’t these dense, terrifying-to-navigate bands of rock. The space between single asteroids can be hundreds of thousands of miles. the scary part isn’t what is there it’s what not! it’s that there’s nothing! ever! for millions of miles!

there’s a great side plot in a podcast called wolf 355 (skip this para if u care about spoilers) where one of the main characters gets launched, in a shuttle, away from the station and the star that is the main setting for the podcast. there’s only a limited amount of food, only a limited amount of water, and the main engines are dead. The only thing this character can do to try and save himself is turn very slightly to the right, every three days. The way he tries to save himself is by putting himself on an intercept course with another ship, which is still over a lightyear away from him. The only way he can do this without starving to death is by using the shuttle’s cryo pod, for three days at a time, firing the booster, and repeating that. again, and again, and again, and in the end it is still not enough because he’s getting destroyed from the repeated freeze/thaw and eventually he runs out of water because the cryo systems use water and even after all of that, which amounts to around 200 days, there is this: he is on course, but he is not on time. at his current speed, to intercept with the other ship, would take six thousand years. (he’s eventually rescued by another ship, but only by coincidence.)

it’s so big! space is just so big, and so empty, and there’s amazing things in that emptiness that humans will never know about because even though they’re happening right now they’ll be eroded before we ever get to see them.

and thats still without any of the horrifying incomprehensible monsters that could be out there waiting to munch us up like sour cream chips.

[gamesdnes948]

What kind of monitor should i get for gaming

Gaming Grabs The Higher Score On Twitter

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[literature-islit]

Cory Doctorow - Little Brother & Homeland (2020)

I was certainly not the only person both frightened and intrigued by reports of millennial being stalked and finding dead bodies while messing about with an app called Randonautica (which I would most certainly NEVER EVER download to my phone and view kind of on par with ouija boards - but I’m highly superstitious and get bad vibes from it lol)

But researching randonautica (and by researching I mean spending a whole hungover Sunday obsessively scrolling the associated reddit page and the supernatural forum on 4chan) introduced me to the work of ex randonautica founder (probably not the right descriptor but u get me right lol) Nick Hinton, and his theory that the world ended in 2012.

you may remember the hype

From Mandela Effect Facebook groups, to conspiracy forum threads devoted to the CERN facility, the idea that there was some kind of timeline jump in 2012 that has led to life not being quite the same since is surprisingly quite common... 

... but, I have to say, I don’t buy it. 

What I think is happening, instead, is that technology and technological advancements have been moving so fast, that we’re all too busy racing to catch up to really recognise what an impact and change it has had on the way we live, the way we interact with the world, and how the bombardment of stimulus from all the screens we browse simultaneously changes our relationship with our reality (less present in our moment, geographically and in time; spending more time sucked into vortexes of news, communication and advertisement). I read books supposedly set in the present time, and watch TV shows, but aside from the fact that people use iPhones and stuff I don’t think anything has accurately captured what it truly means and feels like to live in this day and age, and I think maybe some people are a little in denial about it. 

Enter... Cory Doctorow and this masterful collection of two of his books Little Brother, and the sequel Homeland. 

Let me keep this review short and sweet, because there isn't much to say except that YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK. 

But amid the amnesia-inducing automatic refreshment of news feeds of all social media corporation varieties, it is so REFRESHING AND REASSURING to have a thick volume of corporeal text in my hands that encapsulates EXACTLY the events that happened between 2008 and 2015, and puts them together in such a way that really makes sense of what has happened to our world. 

Maybe it’s controversial to feel that way. There’s certainly a lot of idealistic thought contained here (and its YA fiction, so some of it is incredibly unrealistic, such as the protagonist taking on the entire US DHS) that governments and corporations have had plenty of column space to teach us how to reason our way out of agreeing with, and Wikipedia even informs me that it was pulled from one high school reading list because its themes were too much about questioning authority.

And maybe my love for it is a little bit romanticised and personal, because the events and the technologies and the talking points it references are EXACTLY the things that were current in my life throughout the years of 2008 and 2015; I was this awkward kid with my nose buried in my MacBook and always searching, always exploring more and more and more, and things like Occupy Wallstreet and stuff WERE my culture, in a way, because I saw them happen on the internet in real time. 

And (I could continue this tangent forever) maybe it’s kind of messed up that these things I experienced only through the medium of the screen can mean so much to me when I wasn’t there physically... but it means a lot to me, all the same, to see them recounted and reappraised because they are happenings that I have no physical objects to solidly prove they happened, and people like my parents are probably not even aware they happened, but they were formative to me all the same. 

And also the fact that we sure are not living in 2015 any longer, and the time that the book is set in doesn't exist, and still lots of media and stuff haven't caught up, is also strange to think about. Technology is superseded all the time and I’m sure that kids turning 18 today feel like they’re growing up in an even crazier and more unique time, and i don’t know, maybe i have to tune in to TikTok or something to fully understand what it is like for them, or maybe one of them will pick up pen and paper and write a book about it some day so i can learn and relate, despite creative writing degrees being severely defunded by the government. 

I hope they do.

But i’ll keep this summary short sharp and sweet and just say - please. Please read this book. It is one of a kind. It is a little soppy and cliche in the vein of most YA. it has a bit of a male-wish-fulfilment vibe about the protagonist’s girlfriend. BUT. It’s fantastic and heartbreaking and incredible all the same. AMAZING AMAZING 10 STARS.

[ziracona]

This idea has been kicking around in my head for a long time, and I am finally writing it. Here’s the first chunk. (It’s fun but the second is more fun. Bc Joey :-) ) An offering to @platinumbered and my buddy Tyler, for (intentionally and unintentionally respectively) setting me on this path I cannot escape, and @speckeltail for enabling/encouraging me to keep going. It’s named after a Joy Division song for Quentin reasons. Hope you enjoy (whenever you get the chance to read, that is. ^u^ ).

New Dawn Fades (part 1)

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“There’s been a lot recently, hasn’t there?” asked Quentin.

“Of new killers?” checked Dwight, turning and glancing back at him for a second. Quentin looked distracted. He was eyeing the terrain with curiosity, but he turned to Dwight at the sound of his voice and nodded.

“It…seems like it used to be longer…Didn’t it?” checked Quentin, speeding up for a second to be at his side again, “Like. I don’t know. I mean, I know I can’t really tell time here at all, but it used to feel like a year—or—I don’t know, maybe not a year, but half a year? A few months? It felt like longer, back when I was new.”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s just you getting adjusted,” agreed Dwight, holding a branch back for Quentin as they passed through a dense chunk of the woods, “I think you’re right. The Entity’s been…escalating. Which, unfortunately probably means it’s been-“

“-Getting stronger,” finished Quentin with him, looking as not thrilled about that as he felt.

“Yeah,” said Dwight. There wasn’t much else to say to that.

“So…what’s the end goal with it, do you think?” asked Quentin, pushing through a tangled copse of saplings in their way and having some trouble.

We should really just go around, but at this point, I’m too tired to do that too… Dwight forged after, fighting with the underbrush with as little tact as Quentin was. At least there was no one to see them getting their asses handed to them by shrubbery. God I’m tired, thought Dwight. They’d been walking around casing the area for hours now. It was a nice thing to do—useful, trying to monitor the changes in the woods ever since they’d figured out the areas shifted all the time, but it took forever recently. Now that they had, like Quentin had mention, so much more shit. More killers, more area, more ground to cover. More change. He was also pretty damn sure at this point that the Entity was also making the forest denser than it used to be, and a part of Dwight wondered if that was being done explicitly to deter them from doing exactly what they were doing now—to—to encourage them to stay close to home, to the campfire. Keep inside the safety of their cage. Well, now I just want to explore more, so I guess thanks for the motivation, you shitty spider god, thought Dwight, glancing up at the dark sky overhead. Weird that as long as he’d been living in the dim twilight of the realm, he thought of this kind of time as day. His idea of night and day really had nothing to do with the state of the sky at all anymore.

“I mean,” continued Quentin up ahead, finally breaking through into a more open section of the woods again and waiting for him, turning back and trying to help him through the last patch of tangled under brush, “Do you…think that if—like, does it want to kidnap everyone? The whole world? I don’t think it’s got the room to fit us all. A-and I know that like—what are there, like almost fifty of us now? However many, that that’s not even close to the population of a town, let alone a city or a country or the whole world or something, so I-I know it’s going wild with the assumptions to say something like that, but—”

“No, I get you,” agreed Dwight, brushing leaf and twig fragments off himself, “I don’t know either, but it is worrying. I definitely don’t think it could hold a couple billion people in here though, so world domination can’t be on the table, but that said, I don’t know what it does want. Other than to feed on us.”

Quentin nodded thoughtfully, and idly fiddled with his necklace for a second. “Maybe it’s just stockpiling,” he offered, “It’s probably had lean times before. I guess it’d make sense for any kind of creature that feeds to pile up food when it can, to be ready for a time it can’t.”

That made sense, and honestly, that would be like, a best-case scenario for them. “I hope you’re right,” said Dwight, giving him a tired smile, “That’s way less intimidating than the stuff I’ve been considering.”

“Yeah?” asked Quentin, moving to keep pace as they started off again, “What do you think?”

“I think it’s greedy,” said Dwight, glancing over at him, “Or. Gluttonous. Both. Not sure which applies here, if we’re food. Whichever. I think probably it’s just gotten more powerful slowly, and now that it’s got more strength, it just wants more and more to snack on, so it’s been taking more and more people. Getting bolder. And it’ll keep doing that as much as it can.”

“Maybe it’ll do something stupid, then,” said Quentin hopefully, “Push itself too far. Even as powerful as this thing obvious is, there has to be a limit to what it can contain.”

“Yeah,” said Dwight, starting to grin a little conspiratorially, “I’ve kind of been hoping that too.”

“Oh!” Quentin hissed the warning in a whisper and shot out a hand, stopping him. Dwight paused and looked the direction he was looking and could just barely make out a change in light up ahead. Deathslinger.

“You see it?” mouthed Quentin.

Dwight nodded and took out the little notebook they’d been keeping track of nearby realms in and marked it on his poor attempt at map. Deathslinger was new. They’d only had him in the realms for maybe a month now—no, probably not even quite that. And he was especially dangerous, because like the Huntress, he could hit you from a distance.

“What now?” mouthed Quentin after a second, looking from him to the book questioningly.

“Let’s circle it carefully,” whispered Dwight, “If we go all the way back into the woods, we might miss the next area.”

Quentin nodded, and much slower than before and keeping low now too, the two of them kept going, edging along the border to the Deathslinger’s land. The border was clear, so it was easy to see where the line of danger was drawn. The area was lower than the forest, with a small embankment dropping down to his territory and marking where forest ended and prairie started, the yellowed grass springing up at the base of it a clear and stark contrast to the cold, dim green woods around them. It was so hard not to be fascinated though, as they went, by the town laid out before them. A frozen snapshot of the old American west. A ghost town, in maybe the truest sense of the phrase Dwight had ever seen: an old saloon, a stagecoach, rickety wood buildings along the sides of a dusty old street, leading to a grim gallows at the end of it, nooses still up and swinging idly in the wind, and nothing but rotting corpses and the knowledge that somewhere, out of sight but not out of mind, would be the single living inhabitant of that ghost town, if you could call him living. Dangerous and deadly no matter what the truth of that questions was. But as fascinating as the ghost town was, or even the Deathslinger himself, that wasn’t why it was hard not to stare at it. It was because the Deathslinger, for some unknown reason Dwight would never understand but couldn’t have been more thankful for, had been gifted the sun.

It didn’t even matter that the ball of fire in the sky wasn’t real. God, it had been so, so long since he’d seen even a mockery of it. The sight of it again had almost killed him with heartbreak and nostalgia and desperation. The first time Dwight had had a trial with the Deathslinger, back the day he’d appeared, he’d been taken completely unawares and would have been shot through the back in the first twenty seconds of that trial if Claudette hadn’t been there to knock him over, because he’d just been staring at the sky. Lost in the wonder of seeing even the Entity’s too large, false reproduction of the burning orb he hadn’t seen for real in years. It was always sunset in the Deathslinger’s land, but that was still sun, and God. He had missed it. He had missed the light of day so much he didn’t even have words for it. For the feeling of seeing it again, even if it was just a cheap Hollywood painting set up against the backboards, a fake sunset, not a real sun at all. Still. Still, thought Dwight, emotion choking him up in his throat at the sight of it. He loved and hated ending up here in trials, because it always threw him off. And yet. And yet…

The sun…God. How can I miss you so much, thought Dwight painfully, creeping towards the far end of the Deathslinger’s area, maybe two thirds of the way to its edge now, You’re just a star. But I would cut off my right hand to be able to see you again for real and just…just actually feel true, real, honest to god sunlight on my skin again. How could a thing like that matter so much?

Forcing himself to refocus on the reality past the ache in his chest, Dwight kept moving, sliding along the edge of the Deathslinger’s place. They were up high, on the edge of the little maybe six foot slope leading down to the lowered area the Deathslinger was in. Which was weird, now that he’d moved on from the sun and was thinking about it—usually the borders were even, and you just had to depend on the change in plant like to know where the border was. But then, what wasn’t weird about the Deathslinger’s home turf? There was no sign of the man, though, and that was good. Honestly, they couldn’t be in too much danger, because the killers couldn’t get out—they probably could have stood up here and yelled at the guy and gotten nothing worse than some extra aggression next trial—but hey, it paid to be careful and it cost nothing. And the dude had a ranged weapon. No one had ever like, taken a pot-shot from a Huntress hatchet while chilling out in the woods, so they had no reason to think that could happen, but uh. At the same time they had no definite proof that they couldn’t, and uh, better sorry than really fucking dead, you know?

“I wonder if the birds are edible,” mumbled Quentin under his breath.

Dwight snapped out of his own convoluted line of thought and turned to give him a disbelieving look. “Quentin,” he hissed back, “You don’t want to eat a buzzard. I’m not kidding. Even if those were real birds, you know what they eat, and there’s only one type of carrion here, and I’ll give you a hint: it’s a large bipedal mammal.”

“Okay, okay,” agreed Quentin sheepishly, “I’m just curious.”

Dwight exhaled what was almost a laugh and turned back to the path ahead of him, and the dirt ledge beneath his foot gave out.

He screamed—only for a maybe a half a second before he’d choked it back as he realized how fucking bad an idea screaming was, and he heard something between a gasp and a cry from Quentin and saw his hand reach out for him as he went plummeting backwards, and then his head hit the ground, and he rolled, fast and hard against unforgiving, dry ground as solid as a rock, and then as quickly as it had started, he slammed into a box by the old stagecoach and everything stopped as he came to rest with his heart pounding and body aching, a big cloud of dust settling around him. And the second he had any motor control back, Dwight froze and went absolutely silent, breath held, just listening, straining for any hint of noise.

On the little ridge above him, he could see Quentin watching him, eyes enormous, panicked, looking out over the silent town and then back at him—trying to figure out if he should come down and help, Dwight was sure, from the only half-checked urge to rush in very evident in the lines of his frame, and Dwight dragged himself up to an elbow as quietly as he could and held up a hand towards Quentin. Don’t do it, he tried frantically to convey in silence, mouthing the words and locking eyes with his friend, It’s okay. There’s no sound. Just stay put. He kept a hand up towards his friend, praying it would deter him, and made it slowly to his knees, breathing shakily. Glancing back up the ridge, he shook his head at Quentin, then pointed to himself, made a motion with two fingers like walking, and pointed up to the ridge. Quentin nodded, still pale and on edge, but a little less desperate as the seconds ticked on and there was no motion from the ghost town to indicate the monster there had heard them.

Okay, thought Dwight, trying really, really hard to stay calm, Okay. No sound, no movement. He peeked out from behind the boxes for a second, scanning the town. Nothing. No sign of the man with the gun. He ducked down, took another long, steady breath, and checked again, but everything was completely still. Empty. Dwight felt his frantic heartbeat slow back down just a little. Okay. No Deathslinger. Oh my god I thought I was dead. Thank god—wow, is this actually happening to me? I got lucky for once?

Go figure. He probably owed Ace a drink or something for this much good fortune, especially when historically, uh, luck had it out for him with a hell hath no fury level on par with a woman scorned. Trying to believe things actually hadn’t turned out shitty for him for once, Dwight shakily pulled himself to his feet, still crouched in cover, and readied to spring up and run, picking out the easiest path back up the embankment. Quentin saw what he was doing and hurriedly closed a few feet between himself and a small tree, wrapped an arm around its trunk to make himself an anchor, and then held the leaned out over the embankment and held his other hand out. Ready to bring him back to safety with a sprint up the bank and jump to the waiting hand. Dwight smiled. I’m so glad it was Quentin. He’s reliable and he won’t give me crap about this and tell everyone once we get back to the fire. There were a lot of reasons he liked him so much, but the level of dependable and loyal was for sure one of them. Feeling a lot better, Dwight counted to three in his head, muscles tensing, and then rushed for the bank.

The second he was out of cover, Dwight heard the shot, and on impulse, he ducked. The old instinct to a gunshot still to ingrained in his DNA saved him, and as he went flat against the dirt, he heard metal whir and then snap above his head as the harpoon went where he had been, hit the end of its chain, and fell short. Seeing the world in bullet time, Dwight rolled onto his back, barely even thinking yet, just following instinct, and he saw him then. The Gunslinger had made the shot through an open window in the saloon, hidden, waiting for a clear shot at his prey under the guise of safety, but he wasn’t hiding anymore. He was up on his feet and he was coming. Dwight knew from trial experience that he had maybe three seconds before the man could reload and take a shot again and he heard Quentin shouting for him to run, and he did, rolling over and scrambling to his knees, and with everything he had he bolted for Quentin, tearing up the ledge, leaping the last foot, and his hand caught skin and he felt Quentin’s fingers wrap around his wrist, and closed his own around his friends, and then as he being pulled up to the border of safety that was just inches away, and he heard the shot. There was no way to hide this time. Nowhere to run, or to dodge. He just had time to realize what was going to happen, and then the metal barb was through his torso and out the other side, and the hooks opened and plunged into his stomach like a grapple gun, and he was being dragged back with force, and he screamed, and for a second everything was just pain and confusion, and then he was looking up into Quentin’s face and watching his friend trying desperately not to lose his hold on him, horrified, and calling his name, and Dwight realized looking up into his face that if he didn’t let go, they were both dead, and that no matter what happened, it was already too late for him, and so he let go.

Quentin tried to keep him. Shouted, “No! Please—Don’t!” almost crying, and struggling with all his might not to let go too and to bear enormous weight and force with the strength of one hand alone, and Dwight was afraid he would be desperate enough that he would lose his hold on the tree before he lost his grip on him, so he wrenched his wrist free, still looking up into the frantic, betrayed horror and fear on his best friend’s face, and then he fell, jerked hard backwards onto the unforgivingly stiff ground again, and felt the chain connected to the metal rod through him dragging him back and he couldn’t see Quentin anymore. This had hurt before—hurt in trials, but it was worse—he didn’t know if that was real, of if it was the fear of the potential finality of death this time, but it was more pain than he could even process right, and as he was pulled backwards, Dwight caught onto the wheel of the old stagecoach as he passed it and looked back up at Quentin, terrified to die but not really feeling that, too in shock for that to be real, too out of control for his brain to look at, because it had realized that there was no escaping it now, and so it was focused on his friend, who still had a chance.

“Stay there!” he shouted desperately, the second word melting into a scream of agony as the man behind him tugged hard on the reel in the mechanized gun, chuckling low and slow to himself somewhere behind Dwight, “Please! Quentin, go back! Tell them!” and he knew he’d meant to say something better, but the pain was too much then, and he lost his grip and was choking on dust, and then he was as the Deathslinger’s feet, barely processing that through the agony in his stomach. He felt the hooks release and the barbs slide free as the tall man in the leather duster placed a foot on his head, pinning him down, and freed his weapon. It came out of his torso with an awful shlick and a ripping sensation that was unbearable, and Dwight tried to scream, but it came out choked. His whole body was shaking, and for a second he thought he was going to lose consciousness, but he didn’t, which was worse. He could feel the blood starting to seep out of his stomach and pool around him.

“Please,” begged Dwight, voice raspy from the dust he’d inhaled, looking up at what little of the man above him he could see with a boot crushing his head against the ground, “I-I know you have to hunt us in trials. Please don’t do this. I didn’t mean to come into your home. I would never—I fell.” His cheek was bleeding from being dragged, and he could taste the blood running into his mouth. God, please, please care. The Deathslinger was new. He’d never done anything to give Dwight any hope he might show mercy, but he couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t either—he hadn’t been especially cruel and sadistic, and he was new, he was an unknown. Maybe…Maybe.

The man above him grinned and raised his gun butt to ram down into Dwight’s head, and Dwight started to shut his eyes and brace, choking on despair, and then he heard a scream and he recognized the voice in time to open his eyes and catch a flash of movement as Quentin rammed into the man and knocked him off Dwight and sent them both flying back together in a heap. Dwight heard a massive crash and dragged himself shakily onto an arm in a really surreal mixture of dismay and incredible relief and a fragmented processing of time to see Quentin roll free of a broken water trough and lock eyes with him and scream, “RUN!”

Over by the saloon, that was all that Quentin had time to say before he lost sight of Dwight as the Deathslinger made it up too and came at him, relentless and angry. All he could do was pray that Dwight would—that he’d even have the strength to, and then he was dodging a swipe from the gun’s bayonet, and didn’t have the ability to think about anything but the man in front of him. He dodged left and avoided a second swipe, and then thought he’d moved in time to avoid a third, but the man twisted the blade horizontally when his thrust missed, extending the reach it had at its widest point, and he caught him in the outer arm with the edge of it, and Quentin felt the blade bite deep into his left arm by the shoulder and slice as the Deathslinger drew it back, and he cried out and fell back a step, trying to think frantically fast as he barely managed to duck out of the way of a swipe that came hard for him now that he was off balance and would have run him through the head if he’d been even a half-second slower. Fuck—I can’t keep this up for too long—he’s so much faster than I thought. W-what if Dwight can’t run? He couldn’t see him anymore—he’d tried to move to get him in view again, but the Deathslinger had pressed him the other way and forced him too far back, past too many piles of debris now to see at all, and the Deathslinger was still between them, and God, he’d been hurt, bad, and—

Too focused on fear for Dwight, Quentin dodged right too slow and took a slice to his side and struggled to refocused on the Deathslinger as best he could, terrified for the friend he couldn’t see, but needing to buy him time. Fuck. He couldn’t focus like this. He. Fuck-fuck-he was hurt so bad, what will we even do if we get him back to camp? Can we— Quentin ducked beneath a swipe meant for his head, only to be caught by a boot to the gut with tremendous force from the Deathslinger who had learned to anticipate his movements way too fast, and then he wasn’t thinking anything at all as he was flung backwards into a row of crates in the road not far from the stagecoach with a cry. He hit them hard, smacking his head against them with a crack, and stumbled to his knees, barely even enough time to look up before the Deathslinger was there, bringing the bayonet down on him, and he flung himself left with the little energy he had left, too slow, and too late, and he knew it as soon as he moved, and then somehow the shot went wide and missed him, and he heard a scream in a voice he knew was Dwight’s, and there he was. Leaping onto the man’s back just in time to save him, and locking his legs around the Deathslinger’s waist, his arm wrenched around the man’s throat, trying to strangle him, and Quentin was overcome with gratitude and relief, and then fear as he saw the Deathslinger angle the gun back to run the blade into Dwight’s side, and thinking as fast as he could, he followed the first impulse his frantic brain threw his way and shot forward and threw himself like a bowling ball into the man’s knees, no time to make it back to his feet. As he went, he ripped the shard of glass he’d taken to carrying to defend himself in trials at Laurie’s advice out of his pocket and buried it blindly into the side of the Deathslinger’s right knee on contact, and all three of them went flying. Quentin heard Dwight cry out, and the huge monster of a man yell as the glass went in and then grunt in pain as Quentin took out his legs and he slammed backwards into the wooden base of the saloon, and then Quentin had rolled past him and was frantically struggling up again, spotting Dwight a few feet back where he’d rolled.

“Run!” shouted Quentin again, taking off for Dwight, and ripping a big handful of dirt from the road as he came even with the Deathslinger, who was still on his knees. Quentin pivoted, shouted, “HEY!”, flung the mass of dirt and dust into the Deathslinger’s eyes when he looked up, and then tore off towards Dwight again as he heard the killer hacking and letting out an agitated yell behind him as he tried to get the shit out of his eyes and mouth.

Dwight was up by the time Quentin reached him, clutching his bleeding stomach with one hand, but running hard. Riding adrenaline past the mass of pain he had to be in. As they tore off for the border, Quentin realized that the little gulley wall ahead would be easy enough for him to jump, snag onto a tree or something, and struggle up, but Dwight was fucked, and he desperately looked for other options. Something—anything. There was a spot a little to the right of where they’d tried originally, with a small tree growing up in the gulley itself, and thinking fast, Quentin called for Dwight to follow and made a B-line for it.

Out of breath, Quentin checked over his shoulder as they neared it, and saw to his relief that the Deathslinger was only just now making it to his feet again, gun not ready yet to take another shot, and he realized that if he could just do this right, they were going to make it. Riding that hope like a drug, Quentin leapt the four-feet he had to to reach the lowest branch on the tree, braced his foot against the edge of the gulley wall, and reached out his free hand to Dwight.

“I got you! Come on!” shouted Quentin.

Dwight saw what he was going for and nodded, running hard and breathing raggedly, old white dress shirt streaked with blood. He made it the last three feet, jumped and caught Quentin’s hand, and Quentin, braced and ready, used himself as a fulcrum and swung Dwight up onto the safety of green grass and tall deciduous trees.

His friend landed painfully, on his side, but safely—about three feet from the edge. And he dragged himself up onto his arms and smiled in almost frantic relief at Quentin and started to call him to come too as Quentin shifted his weight to be able to shove off the trunk of the little tree and make it the last foot up himself, and then Dwight was gone, and Quentin’s smile froze and he felt shock overcome his system as the woods in front of his eyes changed.

No, Quentin realized, eyes wide, and feeling sick. The woods were shifting. The areas re-arranging. Now? Fuck! Of all the possible times for this to happen? How? Why-why now! The odds must have been incredibly low! This didn’t even happen every day—sometimes it wouldn’t happen for more than a week. But it had—it was. The killer areas, their own campfire. All the little microcosms that made up the world here in the Entity’s realm shuffling again to remain difficult to understand and travel, like a shell game made up of tiny worlds that the Entity played any time someone got too comfortable with understanding the layout of their little prison.

It didn’t matter, though. Fuck it! No matter what the woods became, Quentin had to make the jump and get out, or he was getting shot, and whoever the killer in the next area was, they wouldn’t know he was there immediately. He might be able to hide, to sneak through—anything was better than here. He still had decent odds of being okay, no matter where he ended up—fuck, even if the Deathslinger shouted for the person in there to come find him, he’d have time to run, and that could serve as much as a distraction for him as anything else. All he had to deal with was flesh wounds, and he’d be okay even if he couldn’t dress those for a couple hours. The only real, immediate, terrible danger was that Dwight was now injured badly out in the woods alone, and already trying to plan the fastest way to find him again, Quentin had committed to the motion to jump when the heavy fog around the area in front of him shifted as the change in locations became truly set, and he saw a building he knew, and he shot out a hand and caught a branch on the little tree and jerked himself to a frantic stop, frozen in horror. Because it was the Preschool.

It was the Preschool.

And he could never go in there. He would never. He would rather die burned at the stake or bled out for hours on a hook, or to a reverse beartrap—anything—anything death imaginable was better than setting foot in that place outside of a trial and being caught by Freddy, and…

The horror of that lightning-fast chain of thought and where it was leading hit him so hard that he stayed frozen for a full second. He didn’t make it from I can’t go there to I can’t stay here either nearly fast enough, and he realized that too late, and as he turned to locate the Deathslinger again and to try to regain movement and chase the miniscule chance he had of outrunning him and maybe making it to the far side of the area and another border and the possible freedom of whatever realm was there now, he heard a gunshot.

The barb slammed into his gut before he’d even seen where the Deathslinger had gone, and Quentin screamed in agony as he felt metal tear through his stomach and out his back, felt metal hooks open and embed there, and then the chain tugged.

He wasn’t ready for it, wasn’t ready to fight, and he lost his balance immediately and fell down the little incline and smacked his head against the hard earth, then tried desperately to make it to his knees, bloody hands clutching at the chain and trying to bear weight and lesson the agony in his gut each time it dragged him closer, struggling to break free as he went, or to fight back at least, to slow the process of being reeled in and killed. His heels dug frantically into the earth as even powered by overwhelming fear his strength wasn’t enough and he was dragged forward, each little yank sending waves of pain that almost completely destroyed his ability to think at all ripping through his entire body.

The Deathslinger was watching him with a grin and those glowing silver-white eyes, standing a little lopsided with Quentin’s chunk of glass still embedded in his knee, and in desperation, Quentin latched onto that tiny fragment of information as he was dragged closer.

You can’t die—you can’t die—Dwight needs you. Fuck—fuck. One shot, you have one shot—c-come on. Please, he prayed, and then he was there—so close he could have reached out and grabbed the man, and he felt the barbs in his back release and the bolt rip back out of him with so much intense agony it was everything he could do not to just collapse, and as the bolt came free, he saw the Deathslinger already drawing back a hit, going to plunge the bayonet into his chest, and in that half-second of free from the harpoon and not yet run through, Quentin put all his weight on his right leg and flung himself hard down and left, ramming his left foot against the piece of glass in the Deathslinger’s knee with enormous force. And somehow, it worked. He wanted to cry with relief. The undead looking man screamed, and the bayonet missed, and the Deathslinger went down, clutching his badly wounded leg, and Quentin hit the ground and rolled and came up all in one frantic motion, then tore off deeper into the ghost town, running as fast as his legs would carry him.

Everything was a blur, of pain and fear and desperation.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear the Deathslinger coming after him, but Quentin didn’t know where to go. He stumbled over old rotten floorboards and through the empty shell of a building to the left of the saloon, leaving streaks of bright red in his wake and unable to stop it, even knowing he was leaving such an easy trail. Th-there was just too much blood. It was going out his back and his stomach and his arm and side and he couldn’t staunch it and run at the same time—it was all he could do to slow the bleeding in his gut as he tore off unsteadily through the ghost town. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on. Come on—you can make it. You just have to get to the far side, and you’ve got a shot. He can’t follow you over the border, and you can hide in the brush somewhere, a-and stitch yourself up, and live—come on—I know I can do it. I know it.

God. Dwight. Fuck—fuck! Was he going to be okay? Quentin wasn’t even sure how badly he’d been hurt by the end of it. He can still run, right? He can make it back.

There was so much fear and adrenaline in his system, and the thought of Dwight fighting to make it to the campfire and failing made him choke impulsively on a sob, and he stumbled, the emotion cutting off the supply of oxygen he so desperately needed and fucking up his ability to breathe right. He saved himself from going all the way down by catching the edge of an old crate, aware of the bright red handprint he’d left on it clearly marking his path as he made it back up to his feet and kept going, but nothing at all he could do about it. He had to focus, he had to, but. God—it was so hard. There were thirty things pounding against his skull for precedence, but he couldn’t listen to any of them, he had to just run.

Up ahead, he could see the border again then, the far one. Dead ahead. He’d run diagonally, not thinking straight. If he’d run right down the road, he’d have hit another border faster, but he hadn’t been thinking about speed, he’d only been thinking about visible cover. Still. He hadn’t heard a shot from the gun, and when he risked a quick look over his shoulder, he didn’t see the Deathslinger at all, and that had to be good. Okay, okay. Almost out, he told himself, focusing through the pain in his gut that kept begging his mind to just shut off his legs and give in and let him collapse.

There, across the border—Houses. Quentin could see them now, past a few trees at the edge of the new killer area up ahead he was fast approaching, and for a second he had an unbearable flash of deja vu and fear, thinking some fucking way it was Badham again, but it wasn’t—it was Haddonfield. Quentin was terrified of the Shape, but right now, he didn’t give a fuck. Anywhere except Badham Preschool was better than here, and he’d run and hide and patch himself up, and he could take his chances with the silent masked giant. And then only ten feet from the border, so close to safety, and almost the moment that he’d thought those words, Quentin saw him.

The Shape. He was standing there, just almost completely behind a tree, watching Quentin run towards him. Quentin almost hadn’t seen him in time at all, and he skidded to a stop painfully four feet from the edge of Haddonfield, breathing raggedly and wanting to cry.

No.

He could try. The left edge of the area and whatever killer realm was on that side wasn’t so far. He might make that before the Deathslinger got him. He had a chance, maybe, if he tried. But he had been so close, so close to making it, and he choked on the despair of that reality for a second, staring up at the Shape, half-considering just going in anyway. The Shape killed you quick. In here, if he tried and didn’t make the third border, especially after wounding the Deathslinger, Quentin was pretty sure that wasn’t what was going to happen to him. At least if he took three more steps forward and let the man in the white mask kill him, it would be over almost as soon as it began. That really might be the only choice he had left to make. Quentin had died that way a lot of times, and it wasn’t so bad. Kitchen knife to the heart. Four seconds maybe? He usually went numb as soon as the knife was pulled back out. Maybe he should. Maybe that was the right choice. He was in so much pain, and even if he ran as hard as he could, he didn’t know what area was on the left, and what if it was worse? What if there was a killer waiting there too, watching, like the Shape had been, and the Deathslinger must have been long before they’d ever seen him at all? If he got there and had to make this split-second decision again, but between Deathslinger and Cannibal. Deathslinger and Doctor, or Pig. Fuck, even if he got lucky, the less cruel killers almost all hurt more than the Shape did to die by. The only one that would be more merciful to him was the Nurse, and those were such low odds.

The thought process had been almost instantaneous, and as he ran through it, the Shape met his gaze, and he could just barely make the outline of eyes beneath the shadow of the mask. Eyes fixed on his own. The man tilted his head to the side slowly, still studying Quentin.

“Please,” thought Quentin, wanting to cry and feeling blood leak past the hand pressed against his stomach as he held the towering shape of a man’s gaze longer than he should have, his mind begging him to say it out loud. He wouldn’t, though. There was no point. He had seen people beg the killers for mercy in trials, had seen Dwight try it less than three minutes ago with the Deathslinger. They didn’t care. They just liked to hear it.

The things that hunted them in the dark did not show mercy.

Fuck. Quentin turned left and ran.

That had always been what he’d been going to do, because he fought, and he tried, and he didn’t give up, even when maybe it would be less painful to, but he’d wasted too long considering an easier death, and as he turned, he saw those few seconds had cost him. The Deathslinger was in sight again, following the visible trail of blood and then looking up and seeing Quentin in the instant too—no longer needing the old trail to find him.

Without another look back and with everything that he had, Quentin tore for the left border fifteen yards away. He wasn’t even holding his wound anymore, he was pumping fists at his side, every ounce of focus and energy he had left just on running. Back in his first year swimming, his coach had taken the team aside early on and told them that speed-based sports weren’t about raw skill: they were about how much pain you were able to withstand. When you swam, you’d go faster the less you took breaths, the more you tore at your muscles and made yourself keep going and going and going when every part of you ached and your chest was pounding for breath and your head throbbing from the effort, muscles screaming with strain. Had told them that was how great athletes were made. Quentin hadn’t really thought about it much after, but he was thinking about it now, praying it was true, and that the agony ripping him apart would be enough to get him across the far border if he could just take it until then. That that price would be enough.

There was something behind him, a faint clink of metal as the Deathslinger went to take a shot, and Quentin recognized it and jumped a foot to the right, into Haddonfield, praying the impulse would work, and the harpoon slammed into the invisible barrier between realms that survivors could pass over and killers couldn’t an inch from his chest and pinged off, and Quentin flinched and jerked away from it on impulse, no time to recognize mentally that the shot had missed and his idea had worked. As soon as him mind had made the connection, though, he leapt back into the Deathslinger’s land, because he had no idea where the Shape was and if he was coming after him or not, but he wasn’t about to find out the hard way. Still not even risking a look over his shoulder, Quentin tore on towards the far border, only about four yards away now, and he recognized it without the ability to feel any emotion associated with the sight itself, only relief at the lack of another large person with a sharp object already visibly waiting just inside it to kill him.

It was Ormond. Snow, debris, and the ancient, rotting lodge. And Quentin dug deep and, in agony, made the last five feet faster than he’d ever run in his life, and then he was over. Feet crunching against the snow, breathing raggedly, and the second he was, he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, fighting for breath, unable to keep running now that he didn’t have to, ripples of pain running up his torso with every movement, and feeling nauseous and lightheaded and awful, but so sick with relief he wanted to laugh.

Barely thinking functionally at all, Quentin clutched an arm to the wound in his stomach, and looked over his shoulder now that he could, and saw both of the others, the Deathslinger and the Shape: the Deathslinger right at the edge of the border, as far as he could go, furious, glowing eyes burning with hatred and fixed on Quentin, the Shape a few feet back and into Haddonfield, near the end of one of the streets that went nowhere, just watching in silence.

Swallowing hard, Quentin made himself get to his feet again. The moment he did, black seeped into his vision and he almost collapsed, and he stumbled a half-foot left and caught onto a large boulder to keep himself upright. S-shit. I’m. I’m not doing so hot, he realized in a kind of disconnected way. That…that made sense. He’d lost a lot of blood. For all he knew, he could be bleeding internally too. Even if he could stop the bleeding in his gut and his back, he still might die before he could make it back to the campfire for help. But at least he—

Behind him, Quentin heard a low laugh, and he froze and then turned slowly to look, and saw the Deathslinger was grinning at him. The man glanced down at the wound seeping blood and then back up at Quentin’s face, still smiling. He must have realized it too. Quentin shot him a furious look. Fuck you. Even if I don’t make it out, you still didn’t get me. And I’m gonna be fine. I. I-I just have to—to stop the bleeding. And then I can sneak out and find whichever one of these stupid realms borders the campfire, and I can get safely back to the others.

“You better run.”

The words had been spoken low, almost a whisper, but not the kind that was worried about being overheard. Darker than that. And horror and shock washed over Quentin, and he looked up again, eyes wide, and the Deathslinger was still just standing there smiling at him, glowing eyes fixed, eternally broken jaw hanging just a little bit wrong.

The tall man met his eyes then, and held up his right hand. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at the bright red staining his fingertips, and then he licked them, like he was tasting to see whose blood it had been and where they were hiding from him now. As he did, he met Quentin’s eyes again and held them, and his smile broadened just a little, and it wasn’t a good smile. It was hungry.

“We can all smell blood,” whispered the man.

No killer had ever spoken to him before—well—besides Krueger, which was different. They just—they didn’t. They never had. Never. And for an instant it petrified him, and then dread set in as the words hit home.

Fuck—fuck. He’s right. They all track us by how we bleed. And it’s worse than that—I have to move. He’ll want me to get caught even if it’s not by him—if I don’t get out of here, he’s going to start calling for the Legion and I’m fucked.

Quentin backed up, clutching at his stomach and staring at the Deathslinger in frozen horror, and then he turned, and with energy that had already been stretched far too thin, he ran.

Ran, or, tried to. He was so beyond exhausted though, it was practically a miracle he could move forward at all. He stumbled quickly through debris and snow, trying hard to go fast, and keep his footing, but after a few seconds, it was too hard to keep a pace like that going anymore. Ormond was different than the other realms too, like the Deathslinger’s ghost town. It was the only place with snow, and it was freezing here, and that wasn’t helping. Quentin was already shaking badly, and he didn’t know if it was temperature or blood loss or both, but God, he was so cold. He felt like the air itself was sucking the life out of him. H-had it—had it ever been this cold at Ormond in trials? He couldn’t remember, and he was having more and more trouble thinking right, and with no real idea anymore where he was going, Quentin plunged on through the snow in the darkness, towards the lodge, and then finally stopped, breathing hard, well out of sight of the border now and feeling a little safer for it, listening for sounds. There was nothing. No Deathslinger calling for the Legion, no shouts of the Legion noticing his presences. So. Maybe he’d made it. Maybe he was in the clear, and could hide now, and try to take care of the wounds.

…Only.

He realized it with a sinking heart, and slowly looked down at the snow behind himself, and there it was, plain as day. Footprints and a blood trail, leading back the way he’d come like a bright neon sign reading: “I’m already fucked up—Come kill me. It’ll be easy.” Even the worst killer at tracking in the world wasn’t going to miss something like that. If he’d been leaving an obvious trail before, back in the Deathslinger’s place, he was impossible to miss now. Bright red against crisp white snow. There was just. No way anyone would miss that.

“Fuck,” whispered Quentin out loud, trying hard to think, and having a harder and harder time doing it at all. He reached up with his left hand and found his necklace and held it in his fist, trying to draw some tiny modicum of comfort and reassurance from it, and he thought absently and with a twinge of pain in his chest like a muffled sob, how much his legs ached and his stomach was killing him, and how tired he was, and his legs gave out on their own at the thought like he’d asked them to, and no strength to resist that, Quentin slid down into the snow, back against some square hunk of metal he’d stopped by that must have had a mechanical purpose once that was lost on him now, out here in the ruins.

Everything was so impossible. And he was losing energy so fast that didn’t even scare him much anymore, and he knew that was bad—he knew it, but. Fuck. He still hadn’t even caught his breath after that last mad sprint, and he tried to do it now, huddled in the snow, shuddering. It was so cold.

C-come on, he tried to plead with his failing mind, You can figure this o-out. You made it. Just…just lie low, and stitch yourself up.

That had been the plan, right? Only. It wasn’t that simple now, he realized, looking up at what he could see of the dim, snow-covered terrain. There was no way he could stay awake long enough to fix himself up out here, and then just hunker down in a snowbank and wait to get his strength back. Every second, he was losing more and more of what little strength he had left, and with the blood loss and the cold both eating at that tiny reserve he still had, he’d never make it. Even if by some miracle he was wrong, and found a way to power through long enough to stitch himself shut, he’d freeze to death outside in a snowbank as weak as he was, which meant…

Quentin looked at the lodge, only about sixteen feet off now, maybe twenty. A big, empty, looming shape in the night, glowing oranges and yellows and reds leaking through cracks in boards and broken windows, promising warmth and safety inside. Promising shelter. But that was a lie, and he knew it, because that had to be where the Legion would be waiting.

Still, he considered, shuddering in the cold and keeping his arm firmly pressed to the hole in his gut. The lodge was big—two stories. It was a good place to hide, and creep around in trials, and that might still be true now. If he could make it upstairs, it would at least be warmer than outside, and the walls would protect him from the windchill. There were spots behind ancient couches and crates in some of the little rooms on the second story he might be able to get cover behind and not be discovered, even if he passed out. Plus, a blood trail would be harder to follow in there than out here in the snow. It was a shot, anyway. Better than any other option he had left.

Maybe, thought Quentin wearily, in a kind of disconnected way, feeling sick as he hooked his arm over the top of the square hunk of metal he’d slid down against and struggled to make it back to his feet, after…after all the bad luck I. …I just had back to back. Maybe Legion will be…in a trial, right now. Maybe I’ll have good luck, just once, and…

He tried to bear his weight on his legs alone and almost crumpled, and cursed under his breath, catching onto the hunk of metal with both arms shakily and dragging himself back up, then letting go more slowly. His vision felt fuzzy and off as he looked down at the spattering of red in the torn snow by his feet and the huge smear where he’d slid down along the old hunk of metal. Everything about it was wrong. It was like he was looking at the world through goggles that had fogged over. He tried blinking to refocus, but even after his third attempt he just…couldn’t focus right. He just couldn’t.

This is bad, thought Quentin, taking a step much more carefully and managing to stay upright this time, arm pressed against his abdomen again. He took another step, and then a third, focusing on breathing, trying to not think about how many more steps it was going to take just to make it inside the lodge. I’ve lost…lost too much…blood…and- He shut his eyes for a moment and took a long, deep breath, then opened them.

Come on. No giving up. He could do this. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he was alive, and he was thinking…okay still, anyway. Thinking coherently enough, he was pretty sure. So he could make it. He still had a shot. Come on. You can’t give up. Quentin dug the fingers on the arm pressed against his wound into his palm until it hurt, trying to focus on something beside the cold and the real pain in his stomach and the way each step was harder then the last, and he kept going, slowly, but steadier and steadier as he went, and he made it shakily into the open doorway of the waiting lodge.

It was different inside the lodge than it had been in trials. There were pieces of cloth with words and symbols on them hung up in some places like ripped flags, boxes, furniture and paraphernalia in places it wasn’t set in his memory. But at least the layout was basically the same. Staircase leading up on the far left side of the room, bar on the right. Dead ahead there was a little lowered area with cushions around a big open wood stove warming the massive room, and he wanted nothing more than to go crawl over and collapse against it in the hope it could produce warmth for him when he very shortly lost his ability to make his own anymore, but he couldn’t. That was the most conspicuous spot in the whole lodge, by far. He’d be found in seconds.

Upstairs, he told himself, forcing his legs to move again, and then two steps into the room, he stopped, feeling dizzy and sick, remembering for the first time that there was more than one way upstairs in the lodge. Right. Two…t-three staircases? Several, anyway. So. He should—should probably go back into the snow, right? Circle around the outside instead. There was a staircase outside that led up from out there too, in trials, at least one—he was sure of it. He could find it if he circled the exterior wall long enough. So…he…he had to, didn’t he? If he took the indoor one, he’d be leaving smears of blood all across the room on his way.

Quentin turned to face the snow again, beyond utter exhaustion, and his right leg buckled on him at the first step. He cursed in pain as he went down, and he tried to catch himself with his left leg, but he fell wrong, and the leg he’d been hoping to catch himself with caught against the arm pressed to his stomach as he went down, ramming it back and slamming it hard against the wound, and he fell forward and barely muffled a scream of pain as the impact sent debilitating waves of agony along his torso. He dropped against the floor and curled up, huddled there shuddering in a little ball, fighting not to make noise and to weather the pain tearing through him in agonizing waves until it subsided enough to think again. It took so long. But when the spasms finally stopped after what felt like an eternity, Quentin forced himself to open his eyes again. It was hard, but he did it, very, very slowly, and he tried to focus his vision on the wood grain of the wall opposite him. He had been tired before—he had been beyond tired, beyond exhausted, beyond a lot of things, but God. He was so fucked up, and overwhelmed, and lost, and the heaviness and exhaustion in his bones was so insurmountably stiff and painful that he felt like there was no energy left in the whole world. I’ll never make it upstairs, thought Quentin without enough strength left to feel a stronger emotion to accompany the thought than sad, I can’t.

For a moment, he stayed there, huddled in a little ball about a foot into the ancient Ormond lodge.

God, please. Please help me. I need a miracle or I’m gonna die here. I’m gonna die here, and Dwight… Just. Just please. Please. Anything. Please.

It was such a desperate and lonely thought, because it was the only hope he still had, but he tried to believe in it, even though there had been nothing but unanswered prayers and silence for years now. He found his necklace with trembling fingers and held it in his fist for a moment, eyes shut, trying to regain a little strength, and then slowly he opened them again and pushed himself up onto an elbow.

Come on. Get up. Get up. I know you can. … Fuck.

He had known it would be bad, getting run through by a spear gun like this—he’d fucking know what it’d feel like exactly, because it had happened to him a bunch of times already in trials, even though the Deathslinger had only been here a couple weeks. But he’d had no idea how serious the wound would be. In trials, you felt everything at complete reality. If you got hit in the head with a sledgehammer, it would feel like fucking getting smashed in the head with a sledgehammer. A hook ripping through your torso to hang you like a piece of meat would feel exactly as awful and unthinkable as the act did in reality. But in a trial, rules were different. You could be unhooked, and run around with a huge fucking hole in your shoulder, and that would never kill you. Never make you pass out. The shock of having a chainsaw slam into your shoulder wouldn’t make you faint, and save you from the pain. Nothing would. Quentin had definitely lost more blood than humans had in their bodies in a lot of trials, but that was just how they went. You’d feel the real sledgehammer to head pain, but not the aftereffects of that. Just the impact. It would happen, and be fucking agony, but you could keep running, head not actually bashed in beyond repair. The Entity must have put really specific rules in place to balance what could and could not cause fatality, or when someone could bleed to death—because he’d definitely fucking bled to death on the ground a lot of times too. But not every time he damn well should have. It might have been hard to explain exactly where the cutoff was, but even if Quentin had no real idea what the rules for a trial would have looked like on paper, he had a pretty good instinctive grasp on it. And the debilitating pain from being shot through your stomach was exactly like what he was feeling now, but the blood loss and weakness and nausea were new. And fuck, fuck they were taking him down fast—way faster than he’d thought. Was he dying? Am I? Fuck—how—o-oh shit. Fuck. God, he really, really hoped Dwight was okay. Shit. If this was messing him up this badly so fast, did that mean…? B-but he’d been in their forest at least, right? A few minutes from camp at most, and—and even if he hadn’t had the strength to make it back, if he had shouted for help, someone would have heard him, right? Someone would have been able to come. He wasn’t dying in the woods. He wasn’t. …God. Fuck. “Please. Please let him make it,” he prayed in a desperate whisper, trying to power through the bottoming-out fear that came with that thought, and ashamed he hadn’t thought of it faster, digging his shaky fingers into the pocked of his coat for the needle and thread he always kept there as he did.

Okay. Okay I still have it. That’s…something. Wait. I. I should…should find something to sit up against first, he thought wearily, looking around at what was near him. Usually there was a big stack of boxes and junk piled up by this entrance, between the outside and the couch up above the fireplace and lowered area in the center of the room, but that had all been moved in this version of the lodge. The couch was still up, but the boxes had been pushed closer to the walls, and set in different places. He’d walked right in the middle of this opening, and it had been a huge entryway. To craw to the wall on either side would have meant dragging himself about five feet at minimum, but he’d gotten lucky, and someone had left a couple of the big boxes from the wall that had been up here at one point, and the closest one was only about two and a half feet further into the room, and it looked pretty solid, and that, he thought, he could make. Could try to make, anyway, and he did, dragging himself painfully across the wood floor on his side, teeth gritted and breathing hard, and when he reached it he gave himself a second to breathe, and then with intense effort pulled himself up so his back was against it and let out a shaky breath.

Okay. No Legion yet. That was a mercy. Maybe he would keep getting lucky. If I can’t make it upstairs, I can at least try and stitch myself up here. Stop the bleeding, bandage it a little. I don’t have much, but I’ve got a roll of thread, a needle, and some gauze, and that’s okay for now. If I’m still too weak to go upstairs once I’m done, I’ll go crawl into one of the cabinets under the bar or something. I-I think I could make that, even like this, and I’d probably have…okay odds, of holing up there  without getting found. Right? I know it’s a lot of blood, he added mentally, looking with shaky vision at the stain he’d left on the floor crawling to the box, But they won’t know to be looking for it, and they’re covered in blood all the time from killing us. Probably they have to track some in, right? Maybe that’ll…be…be enough, and…

Fingers trembling, he dug into his pocket again for the needle he already knew was there. It was okay. It would be. He could do this, he was sure of it. God, he hadn’t felt this awful in a long time though. For a moment he hesitated, and lifted the left arm he had pressed to the wound in his stomach away to try and get a look at the injury underneath. He couldn’t actually see the puncture at all though, through the fabric. Just blood. Fuck, I don’t even know how bad it is y—

“Hey!”

Quentin’s head shot up, a jolt of alarm shooting through him, and he looked across the room for the voice’s owner in horror. There was a hole in one of the walls caused by a cable car that had fallen and embedded there, and standing in the unintended entryway the old metal frame had created, stood the Legion.

Oh fuck.

Tall and menacing, elevated on the little platform, it loomed over him at a distance. The thing was one of the male ones, the one that wore all black. A hood up, thick belt slung over a shoulder, wickedly jagged and curved hunting knife in hand, white dripping skull painted on top of his cloth mask. The thing was staring at him like he couldn’t believe Quentin had had the audacity to exist in this space.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” snapped the Legion at him in a mixture of anger and disbelief, and Quentin was so shocked he just stared up at it in horror, not remembering to speak in time, or move, or do anything, and then the looming figure moved and it came for him, incensed and advancing in long strides with a violent purpose, knife ready in hand. “You think you can just sneak onto our turf?”

“Wait!” said Quentin, snapping out of the moment of frozen horror as adrenaline he hadn’t known he still had kicked in and ignited panic. He tried frantically to use the box like a brace for his arms to help drag himself back to his feet, but the strain was enormous, and he was failing. Fuck! “Wait, wait, wait!” shouted Quentin desperately as the thing kept coming, talking so fast his words ran together, “I-I didn’t sneak in!—I got chased—" and then the Legion was on top of him, and he saw the guy lunge for him with the knife, and he flinched and gave up on trying to make his feet or talk and just threw his arms up to shield his head and fell back a little against the floor, shutting his eyes and trying to brace. The knife didn’t connect with his arms like he’d anticipated, but the Legion didn’t stop either. It shoved his arms aside with a burst of anger, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and dragged him violently up. Quentin cried out in pain and opened his eyes as the rough movement sent a wave of agony along his body. He instinctively clutched his wound with his right arm, struggling to deal with the pain, and while the agony of the first motion was still too much for him to even really process what was happening through it, the Legion jerked him closer and he fell forward, so beat to shit already that it was all he could do to try to catch himself with his left arm to keep from landing on his stomach at the guy’s feet. He wouldn’t have really had the strength to keep himself propped up like that, but he didn’t have to bother; the Legion wasn’t about to let go of him. It had a firm grip on his shirt and was keeping him suspended with it, radiating fury, and while he was still off-balance, the masked killer yanked him towards its face by his collar and leaned in close, shoving its knife against his throat. Quentin blanched at the touch of metal biting into his skin and turned his head away a little, breathing raggedly and closing the eye closer to the knife on instinct while trying to watch Legion with the other, struggling to bear some little bit of his weight on his left arm to keep from being dragged forward any more. It hardly mattered. It would take such little fucking effort for the thing grabbing him to drag the knife the three inches to the side it would take to slit his throat, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It had already drawn blood, and he could feel a little droplet running down his throat from where the knife had cut in.

“You fucked up coming here,” growled the Legion threateningly, adjusting its grip a little, and Quentin tried very hard to stay absolutely still, because the knife was pressed in so deep against his throat now that it would only take a fraction more effort to slit it sideways through the vein it was pressed in very, very close to.

He’s going to kill me, thought Quentin, staring into the face of the thing with its knife to his neck and feeling sick and overwhelmed, breathing too fast and too shallow now to really be able to get enough air into his lungs and feeling the pressure of the knife and the pain of it cutting in against every breath he took as he was hit mercileslly with memory after memory of having his guts ripped open by the guy above him. F-fuck. No. I- His arms were shaking. I should fight back—I could—

“Think you’re hot shit, huh?” snapped the Legion jerking him and drawing a little more blood with the knife.

“It was an accident!” pleaded Quentin desperately, meeting the Legion’s eyes and hoping there might be some little bit of a person left inside this thing that hunted him and the people he loved endlessly in the fog, but all there was in the dark brown eyes looking back was anger, like he’d known there would be. Killers didn’t listen. They didn’t care. There was no hope to be found appealing to them, and there never would be. “I didn’t—” started Quentin, still trying even though he knew it would be futile, because it was all he had left, but he barely got the two words out before the Legion flung him backwards against the ground without warning and with so much force that for a second after impact he couldn’t breathe at all.

“An accident?” the Legion gave a disbelieving almost laugh, tone still violent and full of fury, but his voice sounded distorted to Quentin’s hearing now, and he barely took the words in at all. The impact had stung, and his head swam from it, throbbing pain running down his backbone and ribs as he lay on his side where he’d fallen. He needed to get back up. Needed to fight, or to run, but he didn’t have the energy to do either. Come on—fuck it! Please! Please try! You can’t give up like this! Just try! Please. Please try.

Quentin gritted his teeth, beating down his body’s urge to cry at the pain it was feeling, and dug his fingernails into the wood grain of the floor. Fighting desperately with everything he had left to focus, to find some way to move. You can’t pass out. You can’t. Please. Come on. Try. Come on!

Above him, he was aware of the Legion straightening up and moving beside him, talking as it did, but its voice still sounded muffled and off. Quentin couldn’t make it off his side, so he turned his head to look up at the killer, breaking raggedly. Struggling to make out words.

“Now you’re gonna pay,” said the Legion darkly, and he kicked him.

Quentin realized what would happen and tried to shout something, but it turned into a scream of anguish as the shoe collided with the injury in his gut. Debilitating pain shot through him on impact, and he jerked, and his vision went white, and then all that there was was intense agony and unbelievable suffering. So awful, so overwhelming, so much of it, that for a second, he thought it had killed him.

But it hadn’t. He was still awake, still aware. Somehow. Somehow the pain wasn’t enough for his body to be willing to give in, even now. And then he felt himself convulse, but it was different—it wasn’t like that motion had ever felt before. It was barely like he was in his body at all anymore, and the pain was gone then, mostly, with the convulsion, and he just felt exhausted and absent and disconnected and sick. His vision came back blurry, and he felt himself tremble and shudder violently again, and then again, more weakly, and he realized what that was, and just stared emptily at nothing on the far side of the room as he faintly felt the sensation of blood seeping out of his stomach and against his limbs as it started to puddle around him.

It did kill me, thought Quentin hollowly, feeling sick, and heartbroken, and distressed over the fact that he couldn’t feel even those things very strongly. That there was no one to say goodbye to, or to ask to tell Dwight none of it had been his fault and that he was just glad he’d made it. …If …if he’d made it…

But there was no one to say that to. And Quentin knew what it was that was happening to him, because he had seen it happen to animals when they died. Jerking like this. There was a name for it he couldn’t remember. He didn’t have the energy. Not for that, or for anything anymore.

God, it was lonely. It was so lonely. It was scary in a way he had never thought about before and couldn’t even really understand because there wasn’t time to. But he was afraid of the loneliness, he just. He wished there could have been. People. Friends. Any of them. When…

Seeking the only comfort he had left, Quentin tried to move his hand up to find his necklace, and couldn’t.

Something touched him then, and flipped him over onto his back, and he looked up with blurry, failing vision as his body shuddered again, and he watched the Legion stare down at him in an almost frozen shock. It bent quickly and tugged up the bottom of his shirt and took in the wound, and it said something he couldn’t really hear.

At least the…pain stopped…

Quentin took an agonizingly shaky breath, and struggled to keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to die. To. To just…give in. But it. It was hard. His eyes kept shutting on their own and he could only force them up for little fragments of time before he’d lose to the weariness that had overcome him and they would shut again. He felt another shudder run along his body, but it was different this time. His vision started to go dark with it, and it didn’t come all the way back this time when he opened his eyes again. He felt like since he knew he was dying, he should do something—say something. He wanted to—he needed to. But. He. …he didn’t…didn’t know what...to...and...he was…alone…no one left to…

Above him, the Legion said something again, but he couldn’t hear it at all this time. Could barely even make out its lips moving. It put a hand on his gut and he faintly felt a dull ache at the touch, and the black-clad figure tugged off its mask, and he couldn’t understand why it would have done that, but for just a second he was seeing a guy, maybe…maybe eighteen or something? Looking down at him, with an expression that was hard to place. And the Legion said something kind of frantically, but there was no sound Quentin could make out to accompany the blurry visual. He felt his body giving up and tried to fight against it, desperately wanting to live, but the exhaustion overcame him then and his eyes shut and wouldn’t open again this time, and his consciousness faded with it only a few seconds after, and Quentin blacked out, dying in a pool of blood in Ormond at the feet of the person who’d killed him.

.

.

[part 2]

[joanofarchetype]

A Connecticut Yankee...a kid...that's all well and good but we really don't talk enough about the werewolf in King Arthur's court

This is not a shitpost — in Le Morte D'Arthur, Sir Thomas Malory makes mention of "Sir Marrok, the good knight that was betrayed with his wyf, for she made hym seven yere a wer-wolf". Of course, Malory lifted the tale of the werewolf knight straight outta "Bisclavret," which is one of the Twelve Lais of Marie de France. And it is...wild. There's also "Melion," an anonymous Breton lai which along with "Biclarel" is believed to have evolved from the same source as "Bisclavret". In this post we're gonna refer to the protagonist as the "knight" or the "wolf-knight" and tell a somewhat composite tale.

(A note: this takes place well before commonly established werewolf lore, which crystallized thanks to Universal's The Wolf Man. Curt Siodmak wrote all that stuff about the full moon and silver bullets in 1941 so well that our common imagination accepted it as ancient fact.)

So anyway our guy is a knight who disappears for a couple nights a week and his wife is like ?????? dude ??????? where ??? do you ???? go ??????

And my dude is like "babe I love you but I can't tell you because you won't look at me the same" and she's like "I am your wIFE you better tell me right quick or otherwise have a good nose for almonds in your oatmeal" (jk she doesn't say that because if she did he might've gotten a little foreshadowing of her treachery, but alas, our man was a sucker)

So the knight tells her he's a werewolf, and on the nights he disappears he's wolfing around the countryside and his wife is like !!!!!!!!!! on the inside but makes sure her face is only 🤔 on the outside

(Mind you, Marie de France goes into how the wife is grossed out because she shared her marriage bed with a beast, which has some interesting implications but we'll get to those later)

She starts digging about his transformation until he explains how in order to return to his human shape, he *needs* to put his human clothes back on or else he'll be stuck as a wolf, at which point wifey is 👀👀👀👀

Wifey's like, "but if ur in wolf form, how do u remember where u put ur clothes lol" and the knight's like, "no no, I retain my human mind even in wolf form and besides, I always put them under this one rock outside this cave"

now bear in mind he's never been able to talk about this to anyone so he's pouring his heart out about his deepest secret which he kept even from his wife & I know we're all pretty used to medieval repression but imagine how it must have felt to share this secret at long last 😥

So to recap:

knight: 🤵🏻🛡🐾🌕🐺🤫😅😍♥️💐 wifey: 👰🏼💭🤢🤔👀🧐💡💡👔💍🔪🔪🔪

Our knight is like "yeah so I was born this way and it's just a part of who I am and whew it's kind of a relief to finally be talking about it with someone"

Wifey nods along 🤔🤔🤔 because she's had a💡moment and is 🍳 up a plan...

so the knight has unleashed (pun intended) his secret for the first time in this life and is feeling just dandy, but what he doesn't know is his wife is already plotting his downfall with her...LOVER (dun dun dunnn)

wifey & her secret lover steal the knight's clothes when he's transformed, essentially trapping him in wolf form, get him declared dead in absentia, marry each other & take over his lands

and the royal court goes for this because at this point the whole kingdom knows about the knight's habit of disappearing for days at a time (because medieval nobles are messy gossipy bitches who live for that drama) so they just assume he abandoned her

*~*ONE YEAR LATER*~* (or if you're Malory, *~*SEVEN YEARS LATER*~*)

the king & hunting party corner the wolf-knight in the woods. knight is overwhelmed at the sight of his monarch & runs up to what for all he knows might be his oblivion to kiss king's feet at which point king's like, "THAT'S NO ORDINARY WOLF. HE SHALL JOIN MY COURT IMMEDIATELY."

the wolf-knight goes to live at court where he's basically regarded as a knight (so the takeaway from this part of the lai is that a literal wild animal had a better chance of becoming a knight in ye olden days than a peasant or a woman but I digress)

anyway so there's a celebration at court and who comes to the party but the ex-wifey's new husband, now a baron. understandably, the wolf-knight does NOT react well and attacks him, and the reaction of everyone at court at this near-mauling isn't to say "whoa whoa maybe bringing a wolf to court was a bad idea" but rather "huh, this wolf has never been hostile towards a human before so obviously this guy must've personally wronged him." which is...progressive.

so the new husband/baron/co-conspirator is all "wtf keep it away from me" and the king is like "idk man, what were you wearing? maybe you smelled like royal beef jerky at the time. seems like you were asking for it"

king & the other barons take wolf-knight to the new baron's property. they just need to figure out what's going on because they're not ready to take sir wolf to his final veterinary visit, u feel? they're attached. now get ready for this next part because it's a doozy.

ex-wifey hears about the king's visit so she's waiting with gifts & cakes & shit. the wolf-knight sees her & immediately BITES OFF HER NOSE & he bites it so good her progeny can feel it & henceforth all her descendants are — I SHIT YOU NOT — born noseless. talk about losing face.

under questioning (*cough cough* torture *cough*) the wife admits to her crimes & yields the stolen clothing, which they put in front of the wolf & he just stares at them until they realize "wow yeah sorry dude our bad" and leave the room to give him privacy

when they see the wolf-knight again he's in his human form and in Marie de France's "Bisclavret" it's expressly written that the king embraces him in the bedchamber and gives him "many kisses" (hashtag heterosexual friends doing heterosexual things)

the king restores the wolf-knight's lands and ex-wifey has to live with her ex-baron in exile, forever marked for her betrayal. some real Mark of Cain shit. (obviously this lai has a lot to say about spousal dissatisfaction but that’s another day’s dissertation)

the wolf-knight (Bisclavret, or Melion, or Marrok, or Sir Wolf or whatever you fancy calling him) not only regains his good name, but also the support of a court which now knows his secret dual nature.

something to be hated or feared, only understood and accepted. no one at court shuns him once the secret's out & no one tries to change or "heal" him of his lycanthropy.

remember when I said we'd come back to the wife's reaction? in "Bisclavret" Marie de France specifically states that upon finding out his secret, the wife no longer wishes to "lie beside him." let's unpack that a bit by exploring similar themes across folklore.

the marriage bed serves as a common motif in tales of animal transformation. ex: in "Beauty and the Beast," the protagonist has to overcome her revulsion towards her suitor's ostensible monstrosity before she can accept his marriage proposal. traditionally these stories with mysterious, beastly husbands who are secretly a true catch serve as an allegory for arranged marriage, designed to help young women process their anxieties about being passed from their father's house to that of a strange new husband.

(we should differentiate these tales from those of an ostensibly appropriate groom who turns out to be a monster in disguise such as "Bluebeard," "Mr. Fox," and "The Robber-Bridegroom," as those deserve a detailed thread of their own but also provide good thematic contrast here)

more often the Beast is kind, patient & gives Beauty the time she needs to the detriment of his own freedom from the curse. once the protagonist gets over her anxiety, she ceases to perceive her groom as just a hulking hairy beast and he can take the shape of a prince at last.

circling back to wolves! in most lore both ancient and modern, werewolves represent something uncontrollable; an animalistic second nature which threatens to literally tear through our well-mannered social façade. "Bisclavret" and its various incarnations don't do that.

if you read "Bisclavret" under a queer critical lens, you can interpret the knight as bisexual; a husband has a secret duality to his nature which he is unable to express in their current social order. significantly, he is born with his lycanthropy rather than being afflicted by the sudden, violent means through which most fictional werewolves are afflicted. it's a part of who he is, and it requires no further explanation or cure.

the wolf-knight finds freedom rather than shame in his lycanthropy, and as a result maintains both honor and control while in wolf form. unlike other famous werewolves, he doesn't function as an expression of tension between the id and the superego.

considering how often wolves are used to imply sexual violence (see also: "Little Red Riding Hood" or its medieval predecessor, "The Grandmother's Tale") this would be a fairly positive portrayal of a bisexual man.

however, his wife doesn't see it that way and is repulsed at the thought of sleeping with him again, so she commits adultery and conspires against him. so really, the crimes in "Bisclavret" have a lot to do with sex, just not sexual violence.

the king's attachment to the wolf & the way he embraces the knight can easily be read as homoerotic. there's absolutely an argument to be made about the normalization of homosocial behavior & male kinship across eras but...two things can be true. either interpretation is valid.

so what we have is a werewolf protagonist — not a villain or tortured anti-hero but an honorable man who isn't made to shed his lycanthropy at the end of the tale (tail). rather, he is accepted by his contemporaries and given a place in society to live as he truly is/ROLL CREDITS

[grannygerd]

I’m Lynn from PVRIS! AMA

I’m Lynn from PVRIS. We just put out our new album Use Me which you can listen to HERE. This Saturday, we’re going to be playing our first album White Noise front to back in its entirety for the first time ever. You can get tickets for the live stream HERE.

Proof: https://imgur.com/9K4IgJf

DieDunkleFritte: Hey Lynn, would you rather have really small hands or really small feet? Best regards from germany :D pvrisofficial: Feet!!! Need normal sized hands to play instruments! haha

Nikkiestables: Lynn!!! I was in the US for my exchange and was going to FINALLY see you in person but I couldn’t:( do you think in the future you would tour Asia? Which parts would you like to explore? (Please say Hong Kong) pvrisofficial: We'd love to tour Asia more! We've loved the places we've been in Japan, Singapore, & South Korea so far! Would love to add Hong Kong!

ShadeOfNothing: Hey Lynn! I’ve been a PVRIS fan Since White Noise and I’ve loved seeing the band’s sound evolve through the years. I know you’re a huge believer in astrology, past lives, and the paranormal, so I was wondering if there were any crazy experiences you had witnessed or drew inspiration from while writing/producing Use Me. Thanks so much! pvrisofficial: yessssssss I am a nut. I didnt make Use Me in a haunted church this time but i DO think I stayed at a haunted airbnb. Food kept disappearing and then one night a giant ghostly handprint was left on my guitar case and my hand was way too small to have created it.

hinterscape: Hi Lynn! I've been following you guys since ~2014, you're awesome and I look up to you. Do you see yourself making music forever or how long do you see it if not? pvrisofficial: FOR-E-VER! It might take different forms and go through different stages but i think i will always be creating music!

imaliveunfortunately: Hi Lynn! First of all I love you and the style of music you've put out recently. I saw you at Reading last year, and in Manchester in 2017 so I'm really happy to seeing PVRIS get the exposure it deserves :) So it's gotta be asked, I understand there's issues with the label, but what are the chances of Mvdonna and Blood On My Hands being released? Whether it be as singles, on a new EP, the next album, etc? They're just damn good tracks pvrisofficial: I want them to come out SO BAD too haha. I want to make sure the production is perfect so its now a matter of finding the right collaborator for them.

CookThePasta: Do you believe in life after love? pvrisofficial: yes

OldManMalekith: Hi Lynn! How did working with JT on Use Me differ from your previous experiences with producers? Everyone that I've seen or heard work with him puts it as a really positive experience, and he helps make great stuff! pvrisofficial: He is the BEST. He was very similar to Blake in the sense that he was incredibly nurturing and encouraging, dedicated to making sure it was 100% everything I wanted and always stood up for me if the label ever tried to change it. His production style is definitely different but its extremely diverse. It's a lot punchier and crisper and a bit more minimal than in the past but i think it almost makes things more impactful that way!

villanelleinsuits: Hi Lynn! You’re a creative genius, thanks for existing. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?? pvrisofficial: I would love to live in the UK countryside!!! Maybe Bath or something.

Queenio01: How are you feeling today? pvrisofficial: Sleepy but EXCITED to rehearse!

dancorcoran: How often do you get recognised by fans in day to day life? pvrisofficial: Not too often! I usually get recognized at coffee shops and starbucks though? and Lush hahaha

jessica_pasta: Hi Lynn!!! Was wondering how do you make your synth patches? What synth sounds are your favorites? Thanks so much! Love PVRIS and all that you do ❤️❤️❤️❤️ pvrisofficial: I use Zebra a lot and also use a Prophet Rev2. One of my favorite things is to throw synths through different effects to get an entirely new sound!

ImadaPC: Hi Lynn, I got a question. What inspires you to make music and why? pvrisofficial: What inspires me is wanting to hear something I havent heard! I want to hear all my favorite artists and influences into one thing so that's usually how PVRIS stuff is inspired haha.

staceelogreen: What are your stand out albums of this year!:) pvrisofficial: Great Q! 070 Shake - Modus Vivendi Tinashe - Songs For You (technically 2019 but I've been jamming it all year) They. - The Amanda Tape KAYTRANADA - Bubba (2019 but it came out late 2019 so it counts as 2020 for me!) Howling - Colure

DH00338: What are you most excited about in terms of this new era of PVRIS? pvrisofficial: More writing!! and more collaborations!

creewitch: Hiya Lynn! I hope your morning is going well. When have you felt the proudest of yourself and why? ☺️ pvrisofficial: Oooo good Q! I always think there's room for improvement so it's hard to feel pride, but I am definitely grateful for my resilience through the crazy shit haha.

liky_gecko: Because you’re from the Boston area, what are your favorite spots to eat/hang out there? I may be going to school there pvrisofficial: Do itttt! My fav spots are a little outside of the city.... the Crane Estate, Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Maudslay State Park in Newburyport, Portsmouth NH, Shedd Park Cemetery in Lowell.

goszkv: Hi Lynn! Was wondering if you'll ever consider coming to Poland :( ofc post corona pvrisofficial: yes!

cecy_db_11: Hi Lynn! Can't wait to see you guys this Saturday. How do you feel once the songs you write (your personal feelings and thoughts) are available for the world to listen? Do you get used to that over time? pvrisofficial: Still getting used to that to be honest. Once songs are out, I weirdly stop listening to them. Prior to that I listen in the car a lot and drive around testing songs out haha.

musicfan1976: Do you think the spring 2020 shows will still happen or be rescheduled again due to Covid? Stay healthy and take care. pvrisofficial: I truly have no idea.... :( you take care too! <3

yikesmiles: Hey Lynn! I hope you’re well! I’ve always been curious, what was it that inspired you to make music? pvrisofficial: Good Q! WHen I write, I try to write music that I want to hear that hasn't crossed my path yet.

LeahLNurse: Is there any unreleased songs you wish made it onto White Noise? pvrisofficial: Nope!

JRuiz1775: Hey Lynn! I remember the first time I saw and heard you guys was when you opened for Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens. I was hooked and have tried to see you guys anytime you are in my area. My question for you is what is your favourite tour experience? What is your dream tour to be on? pvrisofficial: There's SO many favorite tour experiences. I love touring the UK and Europe a lot, exploring before shows is my favorite thing and has some of my favorite memories. Our UK/EU tour with BMTH was one of my favorites.

ac-36: hi lynn! i love your music so much, it means a lot to me. if you were to remake your past music now, how do you think it would be different, and what do you think the future direction of the band will be? pvrisofficial: I would definitely approach the drum production a bit different but keep it pretty similar with the other textures/instruments! Future direction can go anywhere! Definitely want to keep taking risks and trying new things, but still keeping it dark!

staceelogreen: If you could go back in time to give yourself advice, what would you say to your past self? pvrisofficial: Take it easy on yourself.

NouveauJacques: Hi Lynn, huge fan and I love the power behind your music. Do you ever write songs that are too emotional and feel conflicted about putting into an album? pvrisofficial: usually if they feel too emotional or heavy, I know they need to be released haha

Defiant-Strawberry37: Hi Lynn, hope everything's okay with you and the band. I'd like to ask you what PVRIS' era you think is the best and why? Hope I can see you guys someday soon acting in Portugal. Love you all! PS: why so Lynnda? *portuguese pun intended, beautiful = linda in portuguese* ly! pvrisofficial: Thanks! I love every era tbh but I'm definitely always the most excited on the present moment!

pvrisbae: youre the cutest little soul ily. whats ur fav song at the moment? pvrisofficial: Brian showed it to me! It's "Too Late" by Washed Out.

agnespvris: Hi Lynn!! Have you had any good laughter when you've been looking through the #pvrismemes ?? pvrisofficial: oh you betcha.

whothefuckisrvmi: ok so im not understanding shit about this app but im here for you pvrisofficial: thank u

vioIentbounce: hi lynn! what do you think will be your favorite song from use me to play live? pvrisofficial: I think.... Good To Be Alive or Gimme A Min

jaydenc30: hi lynn I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and everything you do! I hope you are doing well, what was the first song you wrote for use me? What’s does PVRIS’s future look like to you? pvrisofficial: First song for Use Me was Old Wounds! I wrote it before the second album even came out haha

IrlandaBDelao: Hi lynn, would you be down to open commisions for tattoos? If so, how much would you charge for a drawing? pvrisofficial: I wish! I do not have time to at the moment :( but if I have time in the future, you will be first to know so you can get first dibs!

CookThePasta: are you really looking at all of our memes?? pvrisofficial: trying OUR BEST!!

nonoplznowhy: why did your parents name you Lynn? pvrisofficial: Lyndsey* but they always call me Lynn or Lynds. I was named after my mom's childhood bestfriend named Lynn, she passed away when my mom was pretty young :(

golrip: What is your favourite song on awknohawnoh and why? That album literally changed my life and shaped me into the person I am today so I would really love knowing your opinion. also: what's your favourite the weeknd song/album? pvrisofficial: NOLA 1! It was my favorite to write and the memory around that time is magical. We wrote it in New Orleans and it's my favorite city.

bnizz95: Hey Lynn!! I saw you guys perform for the first time live in Cambridge last September and im so excited about the stream. I was wondering what your favorite song/songs off this album are? Also, do you still steal rosemary from your neighbors? Hahaha pvrisofficial: hahaha I have a little rosemary plant that I use now :)

vioIentbounce: are you still making collages? if not, have you taken up any new artistic hobbies lately?❤️ pvrisofficial: Little collaging here and there :) I've been researching a lot of interior design and fashion design lately!

fee-lixdawkins: Hey Lynn! Excited for the livestream! I know you’re an AFI fan. What is your favorite album and song(s) by them? Would you ever want to tour with them? I’d kill to see that happen! Take care! pvrisofficial: Brian is the bigger AFI fan! I cant pick a fave Im scared

ivykrvft: How does it feel to (kinda) be performing again as an entire band after all these months? pvrisofficial: Really good!! Definitely going to be weird without you guys in front of us!!

Ariana_0918: hi lynn <3 i wanted to know when you saw florence in concert what was your favorite song she performed live? pvrisofficial: Cosmic Love. She played it first and it was acoustic, I instantly cried hahahaha

TheSinger_Z: Hey Lynn! How old were you when you first started writing songs? What is the most memorable prank/joke that you have pulled or has been pulled on you while on tour? How many instruments do you play and what’s your favourite? I just want to say thank you, you’re my biggest inspiration when it comes to music (I sing and I’m learning to play guitar and hope to do it professionally when I’m older as I’m only 14 😬), and I’m really thankful for you guys. I got meet and greet tickets for November 30th for the White Noise stream, so see you then! pvrisofficial: i was in the 3rd grade. the songs were horrible. Its not really a prank but we love having our in ear monitor tech do the worm on stage sometimes. Extra points when he does it in costume. I can play 7 instruments! Looking to add more to the arsenal over time. I love piano a lot and drums. Keep it up, can't wait to see you be a star!!! ALso the livestream is the 21st! DOnt want you to miss it :)

CheezeGrenade: I missed out on a lot of concerts growing up and I couldn't make it to a concert out of state that I bought tickets to about a year ago. Will you guys play through Awkohawnoh again in anyway? Such as Half/Winter/No Mercy/Walk Alone. Litterally that album and the one before got me through alot of depressive phases in my life and Awk has really inspired alot of my writing for a series I want to create someday. pvrisofficial: I cant wait for you to start writing it! You got this! We will be playing through AWKOHAWNOH but the date is not announced yet :)

srankie: Are y'all Pats fans? Red Sox? Bruins? Cause if not the Eagles family will accept you with open arms pvrisofficial: NEW ENGLAND/BOSTON ALL DAY BABY!

macauley7: Could u please ask harry styles if u could tour with him? I need a pvris x harry watermelon sugar vibes thanks pvrisofficial: I'll call him right now.

brisbubbles: Hey, Lynn! Can’t wait for Saturday! I was wondering, how do you feel about singing old tracks from WN since you relearned how to sing? What has that experience been like? Wishing you and Brian the best! xzlinx: I am wondering about this as well. Maybe I am just nosey but I wonder about the process of retraining your voice and what exactlt happened. It must have been insanely difficult on her mental health but goddamn what a trooper bc Use Me is unbelievable! pvrisofficial: Great questions!!! Singing WN is definitely a little challenging to begin with because I'm older and my tone isn't the tone of 19 year old me anymore haha. A big thing was anxiety which caused me to choke up a lot and tense my chords. Then when i was being coached, out of fear of damaging something we had to rebuild and start small and light which we think caused the chords/muscles to atrophy, which set it back further haha. I eventually went to another coach who then was able to take my "retrained" voice and then strengthen it up and rebuild it back to where it was before!

ImOnlyHalfAlive: Hey Lynn! First, I can't express just how much PVRIS has meant to me over the last couple of years. Your music has helped me through so much, and I will forever be grateful. My question is: What's a life mantra you've always lived by? pvrisofficial: Life mantra (theres a lot but this one I always connect to when it comes to career): Patience and persistence is key.

Okosano: Hi Lynn and greeting from Germany! The one and only important question here : Whats your favorite comfort food? pvrisofficial: Favorite comfort food...... Indian food! My absolute favorite.

Ok-Personality1480: What’s your favorite tea pls 🤠 pvrisofficial: Throat coat for singing, housemade chai for joy.

CookThePasta: Do you know the muffin man? pvrisofficial: yes

LynnGvnnFvn: What were the creative differences between writing an album like White Noise or AWKOHAWNOH and Use Me? pvrisofficial: Age, time, locations, different producers and collaborators!

unit525: How are the submissions for the meme competition looking? Any front runners emerging? pvrisofficial: It's a CLOSE call for a lot of them...

LynXiger: Which song from your discography is your least favourite and why? pvrisofficial: I wont say incase it is anyone's favorite!! hahaha

lgbtiffany: do you have a tendency to incorporate spirituality into your creative processes? love the album and can’t wait for the stream ✨❤️ pvrisofficial: I think creating is spiritual in itself! You're channeling sound and melody and MAGICCC! So yes!

vessed1: hiii. I’d love to know who found the White Noise mirror ☺️ pvrisofficial: Me too

LynXiger: What is your favourite genre to listen to? And how has this changed over time? pvrisofficial: I'm a big sucker for hip hop and pop... really anything that's catchy and hits hard and has cool production!

nicthehic: Hey Lynn! Been a huge fan for a long long time and took up doing music professionally because I was inspired by you and the rest of Pvris’ rise and work ethic. I was wondering if there was anything you would do differently while recording your first album and any advice to new ish band working on their first professional project (in the midst of covid no less) and any tips to make our first album just as great and timeless as white noise Thank you! pvrisofficial: Awww this is awesome! I'm sure you're gonna crush it! I definitely would have wanted to make the production a little different but keep a lot of the same fundamental aspects/textures. Do what YOU feel you want to create and dont feel any outside pressures. Crush it! Cant wait for you to record!

minidudette106: Hey Lynn, Do you ever think its crazy that people get tattoos of your lyrics & ones inspired by your music? also wondering what your thoughts are on pineapple on pizza? lol pvrisofficial: I used to get freaked out bc I didnt think my lyrics were great but now I think its so cool! haha.

Hot-Lime3627: Hi Lynn, how is Opal and the other cat whom you took care of during quarantaine doing ? pvrisofficial: They are back with their owner! I truly miss them every single day... they were my little fluffy pals.

kelcea244: How do you keep your creative muscle flexed so you’re ready to create? And do you create every day? EDIT: Also really sad you guys weren’t able to make it over to the UK this month! We’ll be so psyched for you when you do come! pvrisofficial: We are sad too!!! We can't wait to get back whenever it is safe to play shows there. I miss it every day! I try to create every day even if it's just 5-10 minutes, always good to keep those muscles flexed!

socksgrowonbushes: first of all i just want to say how much i admire you, you’re amazing :) my question is what is your favourite song you have ever written? is it one that’s on an album? one that hasn’t even been released? i’m curious pvrisofficial: Use Me!

LadyEpicenter25: What the significance of playing in Arizona?! pvrisofficial: Resources to make the stream happen and rehearsals happen :)

bitchesonthephone: I have one question and one question only: When will we get Let’s Go Vertigo? pvrisofficial: NEVERRRRRR

Antique_Performer_45: Hi Lynn! I’ve been a big fan of PVRIS for a few years now. Which song from Use Me was your favorite to write? I love you guys! pvrisofficial: Use Me! or Good To Be Alive!

JadeAdelaideee: Hello!!! You’ve been a huge help with me realising I was gay, is there anyone who you would look up to when you were younger who sort of helped ease that journey? 💕✨ pvrisofficial: tbh i didnt have many. It was the scattered bits of magical gay representation on teen tv shows like Degrassi/Skins etc. haha

brandonjback: what song are you most proud of from AWKOHAWNOH? pvrisofficial: Anyone Else and NOLA 1!

DixieF: A question I've been waiting ages to ask. Why are you guys so awesome? pvrisofficial: We got awesome parents!!!

Emmahumphrees: Out of all yours songs what is your favourite lyric?? pvrisofficial: "On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon 'cause it's midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon" Its a reference to a New Orleans superstition that the baby blue porch ceiling would ward off spirits in the night to trick them that it was the daytime sky.

lgbtiffany: what was the most difficult part of trying to regain your voice when you were having troubles with it? pvrisofficial: Definitely just getting on stage every night knowing it wasn't working and having to pretend it was... haha. Super embarrassing.

cnnrtower: Hi Lynn! MA fan here who first saw PVRIS open for A Skylit Drive at the Palladium in 2013. Super incredible to watch the journey for the band / yourself as an artist! What was the first gig/experience that made you stop and realize that PVRIS was going places? pvrisofficial: one of our first headline shows in CT back in 2015. Show was crazy!!

KimLC24: I was just wondering how you get your inspiration to do your art and music? because it can sometimes be hard to even get motivated let alone create pvrisofficial: Totally relate and understand! I won’t lie, the older I get, the more I need to hype myself up and set a tone to create, especially when there’s so much music swirling around us at all times (the internet/streaming/etc). I almost always have a moody or dreamy movie/show playing on my ipad next to me while I work so that way there’s an inspiring visual going.

deadweighttttt: Hi Lynn!!! What’s your all time favourite lyric from the album?! pvrisofficial: HII!! "Do you even notice how easy you've got this? Taking wings off a goddess if I'm being honest"

Pvffreis: Hi Lynn, I have no idea how to use this/reddit but great to see you here! Hope you're doing good? <3 Update: I figured out how to edit comments ayyy I just signed up to ask you this very important question: Red or green apples? pvrisofficial: Idk how either but I think I got it!! Red apples! W PB

dancingonslowsand: Hi Lynn!! Been following PVRIS for a while and I’ve loved seeing how your sound has evolved over the years. Do you have any idea of what direction you want the band to go in the future? Or are you just riding the wave and seeing what happens? Also what’s your fav bird pvrisofficial: Thanks so much! I definitely plan to just keep riding the wave… I feel like every album leaves some room for the direction to go anywhere so the next chapter never feels too restricted. I have been feeling pretty hyped and high energy lately so I feel like it may reflect that a bit! Fav bird is… PENGUINS (even though people debate that they are mammals.)

pvrisofficial: Okay my friends, I gotta head out and get to rehearsals! This was so much fun, sorry I couldn't get to every Q. Love yall! See you guys so soon! <3

November 18th, 2020

[mobgaming957]

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[ourneverendingpossibilities]

You make my heart go crazy

Anime: Kuroko no Basuke Pairing: Kasamatsu Yukio x reader Rating: K+ A/N: Because I’m a hopeless sap for him, I updated twice in one day... I’m such a sucker for Kasamatsu. In which you meet up with him for the first time alone, and you try to figure out why your heart won’t stop beating like crazy around him,

_____________________________

School could not end fast enough. 

You've learned over the past few days that Kasamatsu isn't much of a talker over text. It makes things easier for you because you prefer talking over the phone or in person. Things can always be misconceived through the wonders of texting, and you tend to panic during certain situations.

The clock continues to tick slowly, leaving you restless.

Your eyes are on the court, watching the team practice inside the gym. But your mind wasn't in it. Every sound echoed through your skull, as if muffled by your headphones. Rather than sit on the bench, half-dazed in your thoughts, you choose to run laps outside. You want to remain in shape, should volleyball ever become an option in the future. While basketball was fun, and you found yourself excited, Volleyball was always your favourite sport. It's a shame Seirin didn't have a girl's team. That still didn't make your choice waver, as you wanted to start fresh, at a new school as far away from your brother as possible.

________________

"I made my choice, Ryouta."

The blonde blinks, pausing his packing and turns his head to you. There was something in your tone, screaming for his attention. He almost finds himself breathless at your serious expression.

"I'm going to Seirin."

It's then his eyes grow dark, cold, and it catches you by surprise, but you remain firm. You will not waver. You will be strong... Against the one sibling who has always supported your decisions.

"Y...You can't be serious ____-cchi!" he cries, standing up straight to look down at you, "Why would you want to attend a school that has no status! Everyone in our family has attended Kaijou!"

You shake your head, "I'm serious, Ryouta. Mom and dad are fine with my choice." you pause, eyes hardening, "We have different futures and we can't follow each other forever."

He finds himself out of breath, and Kise tries his best to understand.. But he thought you would attend Kaijou because they have a volleyball team... You've always expressed interest in it, doing well at Teiko… So why would you leave your legacy behind to attend a school that offers nothing?

"I don't expect you to understand." you continue, startling him from his thoughts, "I love volleyball, but I'm taking a year off. I want to explore my options."

He shakes his head, golden hues glistening with unshed tears, "You're right.. I don't understand..." he begins, feeling his fists quivering with emotions. "Why would you leave everything behind to start at an unknown school? A place that offers nothing?"

You smile sadly, reaching out to grab one of his hands, gently rubbing the skin, "We're different people, Ryouta…" you whisper, feeling a tear slip, "I know we've done everything together... But I want to be at a place where I can be free... Not bound by expectations and perfection."

You don't meet his gaze, feeling his stare burn into your mind. 

"Some day, you'll find a team that cherishes you for you... Not just your skills..." you murmur, letting go of his hand and taking a step back. "And when that day happens, you'll be happy we didn't attend the same school... So... Until then, we're going to be enemies."

You leave his room then, unaware of the tears spilling from his golden hues, and the way his eyes glower with a hidden emotion...

"One day..." he whispers, feeling his fist shake, "I'll make you proud to be my twin, ____-cchi… And I'll bring you to Kaijou with me... Some day..."

___________________

You stop running then, head tilted towards the sky as you feel a few drops of water pelt your skin... Figures, on a day you're thinking about meeting your new friend, it has to rain right? You sigh softly, jogging back to the gym, grabbing a towel from Riko when she offers it.

"Say, ____-chan..." 

You hum, looking at her curiously.

"Why did you choose Seirin instead of Kaijou?"

You're stunned by her question, unsure of an appropriate response... You watch Kuroko and Kagami leave the gym, bickering and arguing over Nigou before looking at the coach once more.

"I like having options, Riko-senpai." you begin, a soft smile on your lips. "I don't like being smothered with one option, and fearing the unknown."

She raises an eyebrow at your words, but before she can ask further, you gather your things and politely bow, before explaining you're in a hurry to leave. You didn't want any of them knowing you were to meet with Kaijou's captain. It wasn't their concern, but you wanted things to be under wraps for the time being. Until you could figure out what Kasamatsu meant to you. 

He's one of a kind.

In your haste, you run past the gate, preparing to catch the train to Kanagawa, almost missing the raven-haired male walking towards you. You almost miss him, had he not been wearing Kaijou's jacket, the blue vibrant enough to catch your attention. You pause, eyes wide and lips parting, before you smile.

"K....Kasamatsu-senpai!"

You stop your movements, allowing him to meet you half away, a soft scowl on his lips. The rain adds to his demeanour, and you find yourself left scrambling for words. He extends his arm, the umbrella above his head now shielding you from the impeding rain.

"OI... Why aren't you using an umbrella, brat? Do you want to get sick?"

You shrug, before pumping your fist into the air, "Believe it or not senpai, but I have a tough immune system! A little rain's not gonna get me sick!"

He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue before shrugging. "As long as I'm here, you're not going to cause trouble, got that?"

You salute to him, face serious and vibrant, "Yes sir!"

He tries hard not to laugh, instead letting out a quiet grunt as you begin to walk away from Seirin. The silence between the two of you is comfortable, occupied by the rain above your heads. There's a little tension, but not enough to make you uncomfortable, and you find yourself lost in thoughts again... At least until it dawns on you..."

"W...Why'd you come to Seirin, Kasamatsu-senpai?"

He blinks, looking at you for a brief moment before his eyes are back towards the streets, "I... I figured it'd be best to meet you here... It would be rude of me to expect you to come by train alone to Kanagawa..." he pauses, as if contemplating his next words... "U...Unless that makes you uncomfortable..."

"....N...No!" you blurt out, startling the both of you. You rest a hand on your mouth, trying to hide the blush on your cheeks before looking away, trying to calm your racing heart,. "I...I mean..." you stutter, trying to process the words in your mind, "I... I find it sweet... T...Thank you senpai..."

He feels his face growing hot, trying not to internally panic.. He's never been good with girls... But he finds that being around you... It's somewhat calming... Almost as if he can relax and be himself... He sighs softly, gently patting your head, secretly hoping you don't notice the shaking in his hands..

"Y....You don't have to thank me... I...idiot..." he mumbles, finding his eyes look at you when you laugh. He sighs, trying to regain composure. It's then he notices the small café up ahead, and finds himself walking in that direction.

"L...Let's go in here..."

You smile, following behind him, almost brushing against his hand in an attempt to catch up. The electricity between you two was visible, and although Kasamatsu tried to hide it, you caught his reaction. You find yourself a table in the corner of the café, adjacent to the window. The rain cleans up the streets well, and you're left with a peaceful view. The few people left outside quickly run for cover, while you find yourself getting warm and comfortable. A mug of hot chocolate rests in front of you, and you find yourself staring up at Kasamatsu, watching him take the seat across from you. 

"Y...You didn't have to pay, senpai..."

He shrugs, taking off his jacket and resting it against the chair, "It's not a big deal _____..." he begins, a mug resting against his palm. "It's the least I can do..."

You raise an eyebrow, before giggling at his posture, hiding your smile behind the mug. "If you say so..." you whisper, feeling his gaze burn into yours. You take time to soak in your surroundings, noticing very few people were in the café... Probably because they were already at home with their families.. You blink, quickly taking your phone out and sending your mom a text, so she doesn't worry. You notice one from Kise, but choose to not look at it yet... You didn't want him bugging you while you were getting to know his captain.

"So... senpai..." you begin, placing your phone away and resting your chin on your hands, "Tell me about yourself.. All I know so far is you're Kaijou's captain, and you play guitar..."

He finds himself frowning, staring down at the cup in his hands before hesitantly meeting your gaze. The curiosity was there, and as much as he should feel flattered for the attention, he finds himself stumped.. 

"W...Well..." he begins, mentally cursing at his stutter. "I... I plan on attending university when I graduate..."

Your eyes light up, finding yourself intrigued. 

"You must like school... Don't you Kasamatsu-senpai?"

He shrugs, "I mean.. We all have to learn right?" 

You hum, hues sparkling, "What's your favourite subject?"

"Math."

Your hands smack against the table, startling him as he meets your golden hues, "NO way! I love math!! Though I do enjoy English and History! You're always learning something new! It's rarely boring in my class!"

His blue hues watch you with a renewed interest, and he finds himself smiling softly. "Is that so? I wish most kouhais had the same mentality as you."

You blink, feeling yourself blush at his compliment, before looking away... "W..Well… You're not gonna meet many people like me..." you mutter, looking back at him "I'm one of a kind!"

He finds himself chuckling, though shakes his head, "You're definitely something else, _____-chan."

The sudden suffix makes both of you pause, staring at each other in shock. Blushes erupt on both your cheeks before you look away from him, hearing him cough into his fist. Oh man... why can't your heart stop thudding in your chest already? You rest your face in your hands, though the silence has you curious... You peek from your fingers, watching as Kasamatsu rubs the back of his head, trying to find the words to say... You lift your head, watching him act like a child being caught stealing a cookie from the jar, and that is the most adorable thing you've seen.

You laugh then, feeling his stare on you, confusion and slight irritation evident. 

"I can say the same thing about you, senpai..."

You rest your cheek in your hand again, giving him a lop-sided grin, "You're definitely something else..."

He tries to open his mouth, but finds himself sighing instead, shaking his head. "Something tells me I'm gonna regret asking this..." he begins, before meeting your eyes once more, "Would you like to meet up again next week? We have a day off on Tuesday from practice."

He finds himself breathless when you grin at him happily, eagerly nodding your head at his question. "I...I'd be more than happy to accompany senpai!"

His heart races once more, before he smiles softly, oddly feeling at peace.

"I'm glad to hear it... I'll pick you up from Seirin… If that's fine with you."

You roll your eyes, finding yourself smiling at his words. Of course he'd say something like that.

"You don't have to ask senpai... Of course you can..."

Those words are all he needs to hear, and Kasamatsu finds himself grinning despite feeling nervous. To know you enjoy spending time with him enough to accompany him a second time is enough.. And he hopes to learn more about you, and why he always feels at peace with you.

[agiospills]

What I think about Selena Gomez’s last album.

Before I start sharing my opinion on Rare, I just wanted to say that this is my opinion as a LOCAL and not as someone who loves Selena. My reviews will be based on how I personally take the songs. Maybe it’s not what Selena meant with the lyrics but anyways. I’ve already heard the album, it’s not my first listening. I think there are a lot of things that need to be talked about. Be careful with the spoilers even though I don’t think I’ll spoil too much. Enjoy!

1. Rare

Rare is a cute song that talks about self-love and being confused about a love story and its consequences. I would definitely name it "Bad Liar’s little sister". It’s a great opening to the album. I personally do know that Selena is obsessed with the 80s and I get some Talking Heads vibes out of it. While concentrating on the song, I do think the lyrics are repetitive but if I don’t concentrate on it, I wouldn’t notice. This song did not suprised me, like I mentioned I think it’s a replica of Bad Liar. So there was nothing in the record that made me surprised. It’s definitely a 8/10.

2. Dance Again

Dance Again is about overcoming sadness and being happy again. It gives me some MAJOR Prince vibes. I like the disco and 80s vibes about it. Again, I think she could’ve got a lot deeper in the lyrics. When you know what Selena went through, I think she could’ve explored it more. I do think it should be the third single, I mean it’s definitely a song that makes you dance. I can see it being a radio hit. This song surprised a lot, I’ve never thought that Selena would and could explore the Disco genre. And I really love it. It’s a 9/10.

5. Ring

I’m so sorry for all the Ring stans out here. Bur what the fuck is this? I wanna say mean things about this record. I don’t think the album needed it even though I think it makes it more versatile. Again, I’m not a fan of the lyrics. But if there’s something about the song that caught my attention is Selena’s voice. She completely took a different tone and challenged her sound. I don’t want Selena to EVER make a song like this one. I really hate it. I don’t know about y’all, but I would rate it a 3/10.

6. Vulnerable

THIS IS WHAT I WANT! This is exactly what I want and need from Selena. First of all, thank you Jesus for these amazing lyrics. I needed it after listening to Dance Again and Ring. I love her soft voice, it makes the record so much better. I think the song is an amazing representation of wanting something that makes you bad. It’s literally my favorite track on the album, it tells a story and a story that I fully understand. BUT, I wish that she could’ve added a verse that makes the song more relatable for the outro. 10/10!

7. People You Know

Again, this is exactly what I want from Selena. I love the lyrics of the first parts. I don’t like how the song ended though. AGAIN, she could’ve ended the song with a different verse than the chorus that we just didn’t need. Thank God, the production saved that small detail that lowkey got on my nerves. I can also imagine it as a third single, I think the music video could be interesting. I just don’t want her to make the song something that we all know isn’t about, for example what she did with Fetish or Same Old Love. Again, it’s a perfect description of regretting a love that became toxic. I don’t know if the song talks about relationships or friendships. But I personally think it’s about a relationship, I take it that way. I love the record, 8.5/10!

8. Let Me Get Me

It’s gonna be a similar description to the ones I wrote for Vulnerable and People You Know. I don’t like how she finished the song, the production is perfect though. It’s a song that surprised me. And I love the pop-Middle Eastern vibes to it, the chorus is so CATCHY. It makes me want to get up and dance. I still think she stayed in her basic sound when it comes to the vocals. I can definitely feel what she is feeling while listening to the song, it radiates freedom and relief. I love it. 9/10!

10. Crowded Room (ft. 6LACK)

I love R&Bish Selena. I think her voice sounds so good, I love seeing my two words on a song together. 6LACK’s verse in the song was NEEDED. I can’t imagine the song without his part, and I love how Selena uses her head voice. I love the chorus because it reminds me of Me & U by Cassie, a fucking classic. I mean I’m so hypnotized by Selena and 6LACK’s voices that I don’t pay attention to the lyrics. For the hundredth time, I really want Selena to add high notes or something that makes me jump from my chair or whatever the fuck I’m sitting on. It’s a 9.5/10.

11. Kinda Crazy

It’s... cute? I mean I love the production, I think the producers did an amazing job with the song. It’s a not a reliable song to me, I mean I don’t have a lot of things to say about that song. I’ve heard it in 2016, and I’m hearing it again. What I think is interesting though is that it sounds like she’s talking about Charlie Puth’s weird obsession with her? Or maybe I’m being delusional lol? But yeah, please Selena get deeper into your lyrics, like come on... It’s a 6/10.

12. Fun

0/10. Please Selena, once but not twice.

13. Cut You Off

Not a fan of this song. I don’t think it’s a skip though, it’s interesting to listen to because the lyrics are reliable. But a-fucking-gain, the lyrics are not enough for me. I wanted something deeper, you’re talking about a love that drained you during 4 years. I don’t think it was needed on the album. But hey, it’s cute. It’s a 5/10.

14. A Sweeter Place (ft. Kid Cudi)

This song is definitely one of my favorite ones on the album. The first time I heard it, I cried. I think the production makes it cool and soft but it’s actually sad. It talks about Selena’s experience with almost dying and what it felt like to be almost dead. And I think she decribes it in a good way, because it really feels like that. I love Kid Cudi’s verse, if you’re not into his vibe then you won’t like it I guess. Again, I love seeing my two worlds collaborating. Perhaps it could be a good single, I definitely can see some awesome visuals for the music video. I love the fact that this song is the last song on the album, in a way, we’re saying goodbye to Rare after our first listening. But to me, the song sounded like a goodbye but like FOREVER. And I just love it. 10/10!

My overall opinion:

Rare is an amazing album that sounds so fresh. I think the Pop industry needed this album, it gives me hope for what this generation is about to listen. Rare is a perfect description of a versatile and cohesive album. The collaborations were interesting, the only skip of this album is Fun which I really hate. The way I’d rate this album is kinda harsh but Selena didn’t release an album since 2015, there are some songs that she could’ve scrapped instead of scrapping her best songs. I definitely think Stained and Feel Me (I mean with different lyrics for Feel Me lmao) had a place in this album, if we wouldn’t have heard them. I think this album is a grower and I can’t stop listening to it. I haven’t heard such a good Pop album since 1989 by Taylor Swift. I think the wait for Rare was definitely needed and it was worth waiting. If Rare isn’t nominated at the GRAMMYs, I will be mad. It’s a masterpiece. It’s just the songwriting that ruined everything on a couple of songs. I do not understand why Lose You To Love Me and Look At Her Now are on the album, they sound so different from the tracks. But honestly, good work from Selena. I’m madly impressed. I rated it a 6.5/10 on my Twitter account, but I guess it’s a 7/10 now. Bravo Selena!