#and recognize that makes him no less worthwhile no less talented and no less of a beautiful person or soul

[septembersghost]

E was the MOST beautiful man

current state of my inbox is just the attached screenshot:

[blasphemecel]

Angel Devil — Fast Cars

PAIRING: Angel Devil/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.4k TYPE: Angst WARNING(S): SPOILERS, Implied drug abuse, alcoholism and sex NOTE: Clichember Prompt 7: Goodbye Kiss. The end of the event.

Angel doesn't like thinking, much less drawing parallels or recognizing patterns, but sometimes he realizes Hayakawa Aki is a little like you.

Actually, he prefers not to think about you at all, but Aki just does those things that make it obvious he has little regard for his life and he has to. And sometimes Angel thinks this profession is all about watching other people burn themselves up and then lose all importance when the smoke clears. Though maybe it's easy to think that, for him, anyway, because he doesn't get much work done at all.

On second thought, Aki isn't like you at all. He's such a nag, and all he cares about is work and following whichever direction Makima yanks his collar in like a well-groomed lapdog. Sure, sometimes he buys him ice cream to bribe him into pulling his weight (because Angel doesn't want to entertain the idea a human would do anything for him without expecting something in return), but you barely give a shit about work.

Usually work would be an excuse for you to fuel your adrenaline seeking tendencies, and maybe you're more of a fiend than Angel is. When he was your buddy, it was like this: you'd let him lounge around and not do anything at all, but then you'd drag him into some kind of exhausting scheme. He supposes that this is life’s way of balancing everything, though.

He doesn't like you most of the time, or so he says. But sometimes he was sitting on the back of a motorcycle, and you were the one riding (you used to have one, but it caught fire one of the five times you faced off against the PowerPoint Presentation Devil with him, and then you whined about how paying to get it fixed would compromise your funds for that thing he watched you snort off tables you loved so much when the two of you lived together, and then you resorted to 'borrowing' random civilians' motorcycles, and-), and it would be dark out and he didn't need to think about anything at all because you were driving, and the only thing he felt was the breeze blowing through his hair. In those moments, he found he likes you maybe the tiniest bit, but he never told you that.

Your apartment is a disgusting wreck. He remembers a growing pile of dirty dishes in the sink, but most times you forgot to eat so you didn't have any incentive to wash them either, and he didn't do it because he didn't want to. That brand of ice cream you like to buy from the supermarket has a nice package, anyway, so Angel never washed the dishes.

You have a pile of shitty action flicks that you rent and seldom return, too, and sometimes when he'd watch them with a blank look on his face, he wondered if you felt like the main character in them. Outside of committing large-scale grand theft auto — never punished because you're a Devil Hunter and if Devil Hunters won't go out and die, who will? — you don't have many talents, but you like to ramble a lot as if you have something worthwhile to say and Hayakawa Aki just isn't like that. He doesn’t open his mouth much, but when he does, it is intriguing.

Angel was there when you were pursuing The Clown Devil. It was a car you borrowed that time, and he was in the backseat, and he knows you were speeding and that you passed a few red lights, but he was staring out the window and not thinking about anything in particular. Then, after a few near accidents you did crash the car right into the building you were supposed to be at and you said it was because you were going so fast when you hit the brakes the car just didn't stop, but Angel knows you like drifting and fire and the excitement of near-death. You like other rushes, too.

He was fine because of course he was, but you dislocated your shoulder when you fell out and the window broke and some glass shards stuck to your cheek, but you gave him the grin of a selfish lunatic — which you are — and then you asked, "Wasn't that cool?!" like a giddy child as the vehicle went up in flames.

He grunted something because you throw tantrums when people ignore you.

And, yeah, you got a bunch of other injuries during the fight, but Angel was fine and he didn't lift a finger, so it shouldn't have mattered. Then after that was dealt with, you said a bunch of other worthless things like, "I want to see the demon of AIDs," "The Naruto run is a level four sex move, if you even care," "By the way, have you been eating all the ice cream? For a few months now I thought I was just hallucinating going to the store and buying it every day, but I dunno anymore..." "Sometimes, when I wipe my nose, a little fart comes out. And some of my snot has sugar in it," among other things that didn't warrant a response. 

Of course, this was all happening while driving the broken, burning car back to your place because apparently you thought that made you a badass. When he was in a more charitable mood, he would entertain you with one-two-word answers while feigning annoyance, but that day he wasn't. So he didn't.

Actually, that day he didn’t speak to you at all, which led you to saying another onslaught of dumb things like, "Are you mad cuz I didn't buy ice cream?" and "Your disgusting fucking hair is blocking the drain again. I'm not a plumber," but then you pouted and made puppy eyes when he didn't answer.

When you got bored with trying to trick him into replying, you stood up to occupy yourself with something else, and Angel said, "You're going to die tomorrow."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. You have less than twenty-four hours left."

When he said that, Angel didn't know what you would die of exactly. There were always your antics, but there was also that you were at risk of liver failure because of your excessive drinking. You dragged him to your favorite bar a lot, and you always acted bizarre when you were drunk and admitted to the most embarrassing things, like being in love with him. 

Or maybe you'd overdose.

You stretched like a cat and said, "It's been fun." You didn't sound happy, but you weren't sad about it either.

The reason you died ended up not being one that he theorized, though, because the next day it was business as usual. He was on the back of a motorcycle and you knew that the Spider Devil would kill you. And it did not stop you from speeding or from pretending to know acrobatics.

So, you were bleeding out, and it was pretty obvious help wouldn't get there on time, considering what he announced last night.

"C'mon, let's make out."

"What? Stop thinking with your nether regions."

"I'm gonna die anyway, so," you persuaded.

"It's too much work."

He did, you know? He kissed you, but you must've died the moment his lips pressed against yours, and he pulled away immediately because prolonging it would've been revolting.

Angel wondered how you would've kissed him if you had gone for it when you had more time. If you would've done that repulsive tonguing thing he knew you liked to do with those prostitutes from the Red Light District you loved to bring around, and if you would've touched him, and if you would've grabbed his ass, or if that was a ritual reserved for other humans. That was usually his reason for popping in an action movie, but you were kind of sick in the head, so you didn't care he was there and he was kind of worse, so he didn't mind watching you.

He expected it to be a bigger deal. Not that anyone had a reason to miss you, but because you seemed to be the biggest hemorrhoid in the world's ass and now you’re gone, and it’s like you didn't exist at all. There are no dried up flowers on your grave, just the corpses of mice and overgrown weeds, so he knows he's the only one who visits.

In the end, though, Aki is just like you. Dead.

And maybe it's time to accept it.

First, though, he needs to go see Makima. She had said she needed him for something.

__

You know that feeling when sometimes you're complacent in a loved one's self destruction but they also kind of had it coming anyway?

[tallbluelady]

4 for the playlist shuffling?

Dolly Parton - I Will Always Love You

If Minthe wasn't basking in the glow of admiration from everyone else, she'd have excused herself from the crowd gathered around her concept. She turned her head and saw that Hades had done just that.

"Oh isn't that just exquisite..." a vaguely familiar sandy-haired man said. "I don't think I could do anything so precise in a thousand years."

"It didn't take me nearly as long, sir." Minthe smiled. Though Hades might argue otherwise.

"Oh, but look at how pure the sample is! I can't even find a cis-isomer throughout the entire matrix," a purple-haired woman said.

With more people pressing in to see her compound after such a comments from the tall man and short woman, Minthe found that she could squeeze out and see why her boyfriend was brooding in the corner rather than basking in the same glow.

"What's wrong, darling?"

"Nothing's wrong, my dear. Go and enjoy your accolades," he said.

"Hades, just because we're wearing masks right now doesn't mean I can't tell that you're in a rough mood. You've grouchily slouched like that since we were children." She sidled up to him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "You were the one who suggested I show my concept to everyone, remember?"

He sighed and pulled her close. "It's just that... when you called this concept your 'medication' I thought it had more applicable use than just impressing everyone."

She gave a scoff. "I called it my 'medication for boredom', Hades, not my 'entry to the Words of Emmorloth'."

"Now that would have been worthwhile..." he muttered.

Minthe pushed out of his grip then. "Rest is worthwhile, Hades. Not everything has to be for the benefit of the entire Star."

"Is everything alright?" a purple-haired man asked. Hythlodaeus, if Minthe recalled correctly.

"Everything is fine," Hades lied in a cheery tone.

Minthe just gave a strained smile, hoping that the motion would be convincing under a mask.

"Well. I think it's easy to see that your concept is by far the most popular here, Minthe," Hythlodaeus said. "And by far the most well made."

"Oh, well... I had plenty of time to polish it," she said.

"That's no small compliment from the Chief Architect, Minthe," Hades said, straightening his back.

Oh, so the compliment only means anything when it comes from someone with authority... Minthe thought. 

"If this were the type of competition to hand out ribbons, you'd definitely get Best In Show," he said, wink in his tone. "That being said... we do have a few vacant positions to fill in the Bureau. I would love to give you an interview if you'd be interested."

Minthe's eyes lit up and she smiled. "I... I would love that, thank you."

After scheduling a formal interview and giving goodbyes to a few people Hades recognized, the pair of them returned home. Minthe found herself confused as to why Hades remained in sour spirits as they removed their masks in the apartment.

"I would have thought that a position in the Bureau of the Architect would have made you proud, Hades," Minthe said. "Helping others make their dreams a reality seems like an important task."

He rubbed his eyes wearily. "You have far more talent in creation magicks and healing magicks to just be some consultant, Minthe."

"Hythlodaeus implied that they've been hurting for consultants for a while now. Emmoroloth hasn't had an opening in years. And I don't have as much interest in medicine as you seem to think I do."

"But you have such an interest in toxicology!"

"The toxic bits of toxicology. Poisons and medicine are two sides of a coin and I find the poison side more interesting. It's less explored."

"Because it's less useful."

Minthe growled. They had this argument before and she was getting sick of it returning. "Novelty often leads to innovation. What if we're using wholly ineffective treatments for something because we never bothered to look beyond our knowledge?"

"And all the while you tinker with your poisons, you could have been making medicine more effective or altering how Cure is cast," Hades said.

"Hades we have enough people actually interested in those things to look into it! I don't need to be the one who does it."

"But you would be the best at it." Hades took her hands in his. "You would be the best at anything you put your mind to, Minthe. We could take the world by storm and change it for the better, and you're just messing with pet projects."

"We..." Something clicked for Minthe then, and she pulled her hands away. "We? Hades, you're free to do what ever you like. Even further the Star's purpose by becoming Azem or Emet-Selch or even Lahabrea. But, fuck, Hades, so am I. It's my life. I want to share it with you, but... this is what I want to do. I want to play and consult and enjoy my years on the Star. And if that's not good enough..."

"Minthe, that's not what I meant -"

"Hades, if you think that my approach to life is getting in your way... then maybe we shouldn't..." The rest of the words rolled around Minthe's tongue and wouldn't come out.

"Sweetmint, don't say that..." he said. "I... we... we can make this work."

"Darling, this hasn't been working for a long time." Tears welled up in her eyes.

"No. No it hasn't."

And that was it.

Thanks for the prompt!

[shallowbreaths]

I have been told that self awareness is recognizing what you do, understanding why you do it, grasping the effect it has upon the world around you, and knowing there’s nothing you can do to change it. I want to argue that. It upsets me. This is me! I control me… don’t I?

I have always wished to be loved and needed for who I am. I have always wished to find a person who feels broken and pour into every crack and love them until they are whole. I have wanted to create a story where someday they say things like, “never once did he raise his hand or even his voice to me, he never called me names or made me feel less than. He always made me stronger. He lifted me, he loved me, I do not think anyone has ever been loved more than I was loved by him.” It seemed like a worthwhile and beautiful dream, but it’s not.

In truth, people are not broken by others, and if they allow themselves to break, only they have the power to make themselves feel whole again. I recognize now that’s what I do. I understand that I do it because I recognize how infinitesimally small I am in the scheme of things. How many people walk, have walked, and will walk this earth? This tiny pebble floating in an infinite universe of possibility and probability that spans millennia the way I squander seconds. To say I feel like dust in the wind is an understatement. I feel like dust in the wind that’s happening at the top of the highest mountain in the most distant land. How can I ever have meaning?

So I suppose my mind has determined that I can’t, not in the scheme of things. I will someday pass from this world relatively unnoticed as did an ancient man in the Roman era that worked a field and sold his goods from a cart. Even if he was a good man, who lived a good life, no one knows his name, no one thinks of him. My mind determined I don’t want to be famous. I don’t need to be richer than God. What I need is to be involved in a private binary star system where I revolve around her and she around me. It’s what I truly want and what I’ve tried for, but failed.

A healthy person doesn’t want me to revolve around them however, nor do they wish to make me the center of their universe. So I find unhealthy people that can not get their fill. Ones who say I’m everything for a time and then discover they still feel empty, and I’m left realizing I wasn’t enough. It reinforces my beliefs. A self fulfilling prophecy. I find people who are amazing and beautiful and talented, but I’m simply not enough for them because they ARE amazing and they deserve someone else who is amazing as well, and I’m just a man.

I see it. I get it. But I still want it so desperately that my soul aches, and as time ticks on, second by second, and I realize with each that it grows less and less likely I’ll get to have this life I crave, my heart bleeds. I am aware, but what can I do with this foolish heart? What am I to do when I’m feeling lonely and sad and I hear a poem that speaks to me, or a song being sung by a beautiful voice, or given a gift that I’m told is “just for me”, and my heart surrenders a bit and I find myself loving someone when I should not? I must seem pitiful to some. Others would have me “choose” a different path, but how? Is self awareness simply me recognizing why the house is on fire and accepting the slow burn? Is it me breaking my own heart time and time again where no one can see, and feeling like a stranger in a strange land while talking with friends and family?

Sure, I can help protect the world from the tragedy that is me now, but how do I resolve these things? My last therapist told me, “you make total sense. Very few people will ever experience the life that you have experienced, so you would seem like an enigma to them, but you make sense.” Great doc, so I truly am alone? Is that the awareness that therapy has gifted me? Now what? I understand why they say ignorance is bliss. Perhaps it would be better to chase the impossible my entire life and even though I fall short at least I could believe in “…maybe someday.”

I remember this girl (who I never should have known, and I had no right loving) once told me that therapy will hurt and anger you before you start to heal, but is this healing? Knowing that I can never have the only thing I’ve ever wanted? A thing that it seemed like my parents found, but it’s denied to me? If they found it, how can it be impossible? Or were they simply the ones that handed me this mind that dreams dreams I can not have? Did they simply play a part for one another? Is my only hope that I can find someone who’s willing to lie to me for the rest of my life? Someone who will stand in the fire with me as the world burns around us, who holds my hands, and stares into my eyes, and will lie sweetly to me one last time when she says, “I love you”?

[esther-dot]

What do you think about the anti jonsa takes that could be translated to “Sansa isn’t good enough for Jon”? I feel like if I didn’t love them both I’d not like the ship only because it’s exhausting having to read all this dumb takes from jon stans (or j0nryas/j0nerices (even though I fully believe we’ll get jonsa) Anyway, I guess that happens with every ship that has a female character who is widely hated, but this infuriates me

It’s pretty funny. Their hatred is so irrational, they won’t even acknowledge her political importance. That speaks of a certain desperation, doesn’t it? And, if you look past the fact that she is clearly going to matter to the North (I mean, it’s a reach but I’m convinced that the key to the North that everyone views as the means to hold the North will matter in the North. It’s hard to connect those dots, I know...) and want to talk about her as a person, we have Tyrion who looks at her and thinks she is specifically talented at dealing with people. He finds her gracious, attentive to the Lords, believes she would be a good queen, that Joffrey is stupid for not loving her. I mean, Tyrion is a perv, but clearly, the author is trying to tell readers something, and it isn’t just that she’s politically important. Or just that she’s beautiful. She is everything society expects her to be. She would have been a good Queen. The standards are exacting; she measures up. The author did that and made his favorite character recognize it. The same guy the fandom perceives to be the smartest character. So, are we supposed to think Joffrey knew best or that Tyrion was right?

The hypocrisy the fandom displays when it comes to Sansa is so outrageous that you get over the anger pretty quick and then you just have to laugh. Tyrion is a bookworm (good), but Sansa being a nerd (bad/useless/boring). Dany and Ygritte love songs/stories (good/heartwarming), but Sansa loving them (bad/stupid). Val carrying a knife and threatening to chop off dicks (they want her to be QitN!), but Sansa taking a knife to defend herself (blah...who cares). It goes on and on and on. I think the preexisting disdain a lot of fans have for the archetypal “maiden” or “damsel in distress” figure prevents them from seeing all her good points. Instead, they gravitate to the more action oriented characters and assume the narrative doesn’t value Sansa anymore than they do.

Of course, I think they’re missing the point. The way Sansa not only knows the Houses (understands the history of people) but also pays attention to individuals seems like it might come in handy for a ruler. I know it’s sexy for characters to run around killing people, but listening, knowing, understanding people seem like crucial skills, don’t they? Begging for mercy for her father’s life only to see him executed by an evil ruler, being on the receiving end of gross injustice and abuse, and still feeling pity for her enemies, it reads like the set up for Sansa to be a uniquely merciful adult and an incredibly compassionate, just ruler. And that brings us to the “I’ll make them love me” quote. Martin is writing a character who will deserve loyalty, trust, love. The fact that some fans say she doesn’t is an indictment of their values—not of Sansa’s value.

Even if Jon and Sansa reunite, spend their time arguing and don’t like each other at all, I will still like Sansa. A woman’s value is not dictated by whether or not others approve of her or love her, in the fictional world or ours. Jon loving Sansa isn’t what makes her worthwhile, and if he doesn’t, it wouldn’t make her less so. Sansa’s value is innate. And, I doubt they say that kind of thing because of the improbability of Jon loving Sansa. I think they say it because of the distinct possibility. Even if it is purely familial, their relationship will matter, and they hate that.

So, I guess the answer to your question is, I just don’t care what they say? No one agrees entirely about what’s going to happen, but you can’t genuinely be trying to understand what the author is doing and come to the conclusions they do. They start with their Sansa hate and try to find ways to justify it. I’m simply not interested. And, whether we get romantic Jonsa or not, I think our segment of the fandom has a much better grasp on the heart of the story than the rest, so I am very happy not interacting with the fandom at large. They might think it’s outrageous to ship cousins; I think they’re full of shit because they don’t spend nearly as much time decrying pedoships. This has nothing to do with morals, nothing to do with Sansa’s attributes, everything to do with who they like and don’t. And of course! We all have our favs, but their takes go beyond reason. If you want to be involved with the rest of the fandom, you will have to keep your Jonsa shipping a secret/on a sideblog or they’ll discount everything you say. But for me, I don’t mind limiting my reach, so I have started blocking people like it’s my hobby. My tumblr experience is so much nicer for it!

[robininthelabyrinth]

All this trans!Nie Mingjue really makes me want some trans!Jiang Cheng, and if you want too, maybe him ending out pregnant instead of his core being melted, because if I remember correctly Wen Zhuli was honorable, so if Jiāng Cheng did get raped by one of his subordinates, I feel he’d try too limit Jiang Cheng’s suffering.

“It’s not that I’m especially opposed to an alliance by marriage, but who were you planning on having marry in?” Nie Mingjue asked Jiang Fengmian and Madame Yu politely.

They blinked at him.

“I think,” Madame Yu said dryly, after a few minutes, “that we were planning on A-Cheng marrying in. Women usually do.”

“But your son isn’t a woman,” Nie Mingjue said, which he thought was quite reasonable.

“I don’t have a son,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Only two daughters.”

Nie Mingjue frowned. “You have an older daughter and a younger son. Hasn’t he told you?”

“Ah, you mean – by Qinghe standards,” Jiang Fengmian said. He sounded uncomfortable with the idea, which made Nie Mingjue’s eyes narrow and Jiang Fengmian immediately drop the notion of saying something more along those lines. After all, Nie Mingjue himself was a man ‘by Qinghe standards’, as the other sect leader put it, and starting trouble with Qinghe wasn’t on the agenda for today. “Sect Leader Nie, I appreciate your concern, but my daughter –”

“Son.”

“My daughter is a woman. We don’t practice Qinghe ways here.”

“It doesn’t really matter what you practice in the Lotus Pier,” Nie Mingjue said. He was wearing his best pleasant smile, which most people said looked like he was about to start chopping people into pieces. It was, at the moment, a fair description. “From my perspective, with my Qinghe ways, you have a son, who is a man. However you wish to treat him or raise him is up to you, of course, and I’m still willing to arrange a marriage between him and Huaisang, to be maintained or cancelled at their will when they’re older, including a marriage in which Jiang Cheng marries into the Unclean Realm. But what I will not tolerate is Huaisang getting confused by being told on one hand that he has a wife and the other a husband. He’s very fragile after our father’s death; I’m sure you understand.”

Jiang Fengmian, who’d been about to protest, shut his mouth, his desire for Nie Mingjue not to bring up, yet again, the fact of his father’s murder at the hands of Wen Ruohan – a murder that would need to be answered for, one day – outweighing his desire to argue back.

It was a petty move, but Nie Mingjue was aware that he had very few cards to play against the older and more influential man, and that meant he had to use them all no matter how petty to get what he wanted.

Mostly, in this case, for Jiang Cheng to be treated the way he so obviously identified. The damage that could be done by people who didn’t understand this sort of thing was incalculable – it was worth sticking his nose into another family’s business, no matter how rude, to try to make a difference if he could.

There were long few minutes of silence, in which Nie Mingjue stood his (tenuous) ground and Jiang Fengmian considered possible responses that would result in even more awkwardness.

Just at the point that it was getting intolerable, Madame Yu snorted, a surprisingly inelegant sound for such a refined woman.

“Let him be a son and a husband, then,” she said, her voice a little waspish. “If he changes his mind later, he can resume being a daughter, and there will be no loss.”

It wasn’t exactly how Nie Mingjue had intended on settling Nie Huaisang’s marriage, but it seemed a worthwhile conclusion, even if Jiang Fengmian was clearly not entirely on board.

“Very well,” he said. “Are we agreed?”

The marriage was unofficially dissolved when the boys were twelve, if by ‘dissolved’ one meant that the entire Jiang sect had entirely forgotten that their young master had ever been a young mistress, even Jiang Fengmian. A casual comment to Madame Yu that she ought to consider finding someone to marry in to their sect so that the heir could be officially confirmed, rather than wasting him on a cutsleeve marriage out, was more than enough for the entire concept to be permanently misplaced.  

(Not that he thought they would make a bad pair, but if that was the case they could always figure it out for themselves later on.)

As far as Nie Mingjue was concerned, that was the end of it.

And yet, years later, it was at Nie Mingjue’s tent in Heijan that Jiang Cheng came, a twisted expression on his face.

“I have a problem,” he said, and touched his stomach lightly in a place a little too far down to suggest a stomachache. “I don’t know what to do about it, and – when I was younger, Huaisang said – well. I thought you might have some insight.”

Nie Mingjue let Jiang Cheng into the tent and put up a silencing array behind him, the sort used to protect news delivered by the most important spies.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” he said honestly. “It’s not a problem I’ve encountered on a personal basis, if you understand my meaning. Do you want to keep it or not?”

Jiang Cheng settled down where Nie Mingjue led him, still grimacing. “I don’t know,” he said. “The idea of bearing a child for any one of them disgusts me beyond telling. But on the other hand, what did the child have to do with it? It seems unfair not to give it a chance to live.”

“It’s not a child yet,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. He could do math, and the fall of the Lotus Pier wasn’t that long ago. “There’s no way that it’s quickened this soon after. Right now, it’s a problem that can be eliminated with a bowl of medicine, if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. “I’m considering it. It’s only…on one hand, even if it’s not a child yet, it could be a child, if I let it. A Jiang child, with me as its father, and obviously my Jiang sect could use as many new members as possible, no matter what the other half of their biological origin. But on the other hand – wouldn’t it be irresponsible to carry a child now? I’m leading the Jiang sect’s efforts against the Wens, trying to avenge what they did to me, to my parents, to my sect, and a child would be a distraction from that…and Wei Wuxian, who might have helped me out, is still missing.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t comment on Wei Wuxian, even though he itched, as he often did, to remind Jiang Cheng that no matter how atrociously Jiang Fengmian had behaved – and no matter what the condition of his birth had been, legitimate and incorrectly categorized – he was the son and heir of the Jiang clan.

Not the child Jiang Fengmian had brought in and treated as if he’d been the son he’d never had.

(Really, Nie Mingjue didn’t understand places like Yunmeng. What was the point of not recognizing misaligned reincarnations like theirs? It wouldn’t make it any less true.)

“Depending on the way it affects you, you could be out in the fields for months still,” he said reasonably. “Certainly plenty of mothers in Qinghe don’t go into isolation until there’s only a few weeks left. And even if you aren’t, I can take charge on the battlefield while you consult on strategy from the backend, the same way you would if you’d been taken out of the field because of an injury – Lan Xichen is doing much the same thing, when he’s not acting as courier, and he’s doing it because he’s a terrible general rather than any logistical reason.”

“But it’s not an injury.”

Nie Mingjue frowned at him. “You’re making it very difficult to resist making some sort of pun about the Wen sect’s swords, Sect Leader Jiang, and I don’t even like that sort of crude humor.”

Jiang Cheng took a second to get it, then snorted. “I supposed you could say I got ‘stabbed’ a few times, yes.”

“Only a few times? They really are worthless dogs.”

And now Jiang Cheng was laughing, even though he was trying to stop himself. “That’s terrible, stop it…you know, I suppose, if you look at it from a certain perspective, I really am just suffering from – from post-stabbing complications.”

“Seems reasonable enough to me.” Nie Mingjue poured Jiang Cheng a cup of the tea that had already been cooling on his desk – a little rude, but better than wasting time making a new pot. “If you do decide to keep it, you can leave the child with Nie Huaisang once it’s born, if you like. He’s always liked children, and it’s not as if I’m going to let him get anywhere near a battlefield, now or ever.”

“Are you sure he’s not a woman?” Jiang Cheng asked. He sounded almost wistful, which suggested that the arranged marriage they’d set up so many years ago might even have a chance of resurrecting; Nie Mingjue would have to slip Nie Huaisang a hint. “With the fans and the birds and the pretty things –”

“He says he isn’t, and so he isn’t,” Nie Mingjue said with a sigh. “I admit it’d make it easier if he was. No one outside of Qinghe would question his below-average talent or his love of frivolities if he was a woman, however unfair that might be, and it’d make things easier for him.”

“You’d still yell at him to practice his saber.”

“Of course. What does saber have to do with gender?”

Jiang Cheng smiled and shook his head. “Thank you,” he said. “I still haven’t decided one way or another, but…it’s good to know there’s a way to do it, if I want, that doesn’t mean that – I’m not as brave as you. I don’t want people to know.”

“It’s not a matter of bravery,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s common etiquette. Anyone who spends time thinking about another person’s genitals that isn’t planning on courting them is wasting their time.”

Jiang Cheng snickered. “No, I mean – people know about you, that you’re misaligned. You’ve never been shy about it.”

Nie Mingjue was pretty sure Jiang Cheng was thinking about the incident during a discussion conference some years back when he’d been shouting at Jin Guangshan over something or another – loud enough to be audible across half the city, it seemed, based on the number of people who talked about it afterwards – and ended the rant by telling the other sect leader to suck his non-existent dick.

“I’m not really a shy person,” he said dryly, and Jiang Cheng pressed his lips together in an evident attempt to avoid descending into giggles – he’s definitely thinking about the suck-my-dick comment. “Also, Qinghe is a bit more open about these things; it makes it easier, not having to explain exactly what it means or doesn’t mean. Don’t be too hard yourself.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t seem convinced, but nodded anyway.

“It’s not just that,” he said, though obviously it was, in some large part, that. Jiang Cheng’s complicated relationship with Wei Wuxian was proof of it, if nothing else. “It’s also – people can do math. I don’t want people thinking I’m weak, or a pushover.”

“No one who has seen you wield Zidian is likely to make that mistake,” Nie Mingjue said, but he could tell from the set of Jiang Cheng’s shoulders that that wasn’t enough. “It isn’t weakness, you know. Anyone can be captured, anyone can be tortured – some people will have to live without a leg or an arm, after what they suffered, and that’s the lucky ones that didn’t die. That’s all it ever is in war – just luck, good or bad. If I walked into a Wen ambush next week, I’d be as liable to complications from a Wen ‘stab’ as you, but it wouldn’t be because my strength wasn’t enough.”

“I guess,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s just – if I kept the child, people would have to know, wouldn’t they?”

“Says who? If you retire from the battlefield due to complications from an injury for a few months, then the assumption will be that you found out that you got some poor girl pregnant and took on the child once you knew. If you do want people to know that you carried it, well, children come and go at their own speed.” Nie Mingjue shrugged. “Let some gossip overhear you talking about how you were already carrying the Lotus Pier’s next heir before any Wen set a foot on Yunmeng soil, and everyone will put together the rest. You know how it goes.”

“I suppose I do, at that.”

“Huaisang could probably put together a convincing story,” Nie Mingjue said. “He’s really very good at identifying every possible point in time and place where someone could be having sex, even if the actual personalities involved make it highly unlikely. And then he illustrates it, usually.”

Jiang Cheng was smiling, and his shoulders were straight again – his burdens lifted, however temporarily.

Good.

“Let me know what you decide,” Nie Mingjue said. “I know just enough about medicine to be able to mix you up what you need using just the medicine I already keep in my general collection, so no one would need to know, if that’s what you choose. And if you choose the other way, well, I have the medicines to help support that, too.”

“You keep that much medicine?”

“I’m not sure if you’ve heard about the tendency of the Qinghe Nie towards qi deviations –” Of course he had. Everyone had. “– but we have a habit of keeping an awful lot of medicine on hand.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jiang Cheng said, and he was frowning a little, thoughtful, but not as stressed as he’d been earlier. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Nie Mingjue said. “Really, don’t. If I let it get out that I give advice, every misaligned sonofabitch that wants to get a promotion will start showing up at my door with problems that are really just an excuse to get a chat in with the sect leader, and then where will my troubles end?”

Jiang Cheng, who was dealing with similar problems, smirked. “That doesn’t seem like my problem. At least people know better than to ask anything of me.”

“That can change,” Nie Mingjue said threateningly. “I’ll get Huaisang on it; see what happens to your reputation then.”

Jiang Cheng held up his hands in surrender as he retreated.

Nie Mingjue wondered for a moment which way he’d pick, but then remembered that it wasn’t his business and also that there was a war on that needed his attention a bit more.

Personal problems could wait.

[sepublic]

What if King wasn’t important?

           But consider- What if the show was setting us up to believe that King is the Titan, or at least related to it, though all of these little clues; Ranging from the skull to the horns, the claws, etc. What if the show sets us up to believe in a connection, only to reveal that there isn’t one and never will be! As a parallel to Luz thinking she was a Chosen One, King thinks he was a mighty King of Demons when he really wasn’t… Perhaps he’ll have/had an arc similar to Luz in Episode 2, where King sees the similarities between himself and the Titan, possibly pointed out by someone else.

          He’ll buy into it, because it reassures King that he’s always been great or is at least destined to be, and I can see King letting the idea get to his head like in Sense and Insensitivity as he becomes entitled; Low-key a reflection of how people like Boscha or Odalia see themselves as entitled to greatness because of what the Coven System says, about some people just being naturally better than the rest. And this could lead to King becoming toxic like Boscha and Odalia, as he acts like he’s better than everybody else and that they all owe him something… In addition to that feeling that he’s suffered the short end of a stick for a while, so surely the universe owes him something in compensation for this!

          But then King realizes that there is no connection, and it’s broken to him in a harsh and blunt way that causes potential followers or fans to coldly abandon him; With only his true friends staying by his side amidst it all. Kind of like how King thought he was such a great author at first, only to realize he only achieved this with Luz’s help; And without it, Piniet’s respect considerably dwindles, as King is forgotten by Bonesborough when he isn’t able to produce a sequel to Ruler’s Reach. King doesn’t live up to the expectations of grandeur that he and others set himself up for; So people lose interest… Except for those who were always interested in King as who he was, and not as some larger-than-life figure.

           With Luz’s help, King can realize that greatness is something he has to work for. It’s not an inherent destiny/condition of his, and he’s not entitled to anything for having suffered, just as Luz and Eda aren’t. It’d be an interesting and meta twist, and frustrating to King- Because he really wants to believe that he’s more than the cute fluffball that others see and reduce him to. And maybe that’s all he is NOW… But King can be reassured with Luz’s guidance, that he can build off of that, and work to make himself more than this! King can improve himself, just as other characters did… He doesn’t have to accept the hand that life dealt him, he can work to change it as he sees fit!

          Just as characters shouldn’t have to worry about if they have no natural talent nor inlincation for something- If they enjoy it, then they’re valid in pursuing that career and improving their skills. Kind of like how Luz and Amity didn’t start off as the best artists, but through practice and dedication, they really improve and made their hobbies worthwhile to themselves! Or how Luz has every reason to be terrible at magic and abandon the skill as impractical, and focus on what she’s already good at… But she still insists on learning it anyway, because it makes her happy. Luz was bad at magic, thanks to her lack of a bile sac- But she worked to learn magic anyway, and even if it may not be as great as others’, she finds joy in her glyphs and spells, so that’s all that really matters. Luz doesn’t care that she might not be cut out for magic- She’ll make herself be, and/or still find enjoyment anyway.

          And it can connect to Episode 3 and real life in general- With how kids feel pressured to stick to what they’re good at, and are discouraged from some hobbies/passions because they’re dismissed as less practical, and/or those kids aren’t already immediately great at it. It discourages growth by insisting that this is how you’ll always be, or that it’s not worth it to improve yourself; So just stick to what society says, and do the job that pays more money and/or fits you according to this specific test… And stick to your track as the Coven System insists. You’ll never be more than this, or you could but it’s not worth it- So don’t try*.

           King might not be a natural, best-selling author on his own; But with support and constructive criticism from a friend like Luz, his writing can truly improve! Because after all, plenty of authors and writers in real life are amazing, but only after some feedback and criticism- There’s a reason why rough drafts exist, and why people look for feedback before finalizing a work! There’s no shame in needing help… King has always wanted to be recognized on his own terms, by things of his own effort and conviction- And now he has the chance to do that! He can make something from his own work, instead of having it be an intrinsic trait, like his cuteness.

          King can be valued for something he really worked for and made, instead of something that was just given/assigned to him by life… And in the end, is that not lowkey more validating to his kind of character? One might say it’s just a repeat of King’s arc from Sense and Insensitivity- But to me personally, I see it as potentially being a final cap-off to his development across the series. A final application of King’s lessons, to make sure he really did retain what he learned, and isn’t going to just forget about it and listen to whatever sounds most convenient to him! Plus, there’s enough room for it to be its own thing- As having a natural connection to the Titan is definitely more of a ‘Chosen One’ trope than just being already-talented at writing.

-

          *It’s lowkey contradictory to how the Coven System promises witches that with enough effort and hard work, they can achieve greatness and get out of any situation… And I think that’s kind of the point. Only certain witches with the privilege of a support network can try new things without fearing the cost of failure; And so only they can engage in growth, while those who are less well-off never get the chance, because not being immediately talented at things is costly in its own way. Witches are duped into the system under the belief that if they work hard enough, things CAN be better, that it can be all worth it, and that those on the bottom are secretly deserving of their plight, because they just didn’t work hard enough…

          But then said witches are unable to climb the hierarchy due to a lack of privilege anyway. The unprivileged stay where they are because of how the system is structured, but they’re taught to believe in the system anyway in hopes that they can one day ascend it- And if they still haven’t, then it’s actually their fault. Those at the bottom are kept there, to maintain the exclusivity of power to the select few at the top. And even if they CAN play by the system, witches still have to give something up in the process –such as an interest that isn’t immediately useful- while those who are privileged retain everything.

          It forces you to invest effort into playing by the system’s rules, therefore participating in and validating it. You can never get out of it, because either you’re working to maintain your place and defend what you’ve earned, or you’re trying to climb the ladder; Either way, you’re still on the ladder. You’re so distracted from not falling down the ladder, that you never think to get off it entirely, to get rid of that ladder or at least grow beyond it. It’s only up and down, apparently; Always vertical, never horizontal. It’s intentionally limiting… You’ll always be dependent on the system, so just focus on staying there and maybe ascending it.

[goodshipsherlollipop]

Self-interview (but not really) Part 2

Thanks again @sherlollyappreciationweek

Comp1mom

Q: What made you decide to create a “Christian” version of Sherlock?  According to the BBC version, he is a self-avowed atheist.

A: When I look at Sherlock’s true nature, I see such potential for him as a Christian.  He exhibits so many characteristics that we, as Christians, try to show - forgiveness of wrongs done to him (note how he doesn’t fight back when John assaults him); sacrificial love (his willingness to die for others, as in TRF); the desire for true justice, the way Moriarty says he’s  “on the side of the angels”.  At least for me, I was intrigued by the idea of converting him to Christianity, to give him a true purpose for his life that has eternal consequences.  

Q: Do you think that portraying Sherlock as a Christian is important? Why or why not?

A: I am always hopeful that people will read and see the validity in my reasoning for him becoming a Christian, given how often he has escaped death.  Quite often, in stories, Molly puts the question to him - Why are you still here?  Why have you escaped death so many times?  That should be enough to make anyone reevaluate their life’s purpose.

Q: Molly Hooper is the one who proselytizes him, right? Why do you use Molly? Why not John, who must be a believer in Christ in some way or he would have had a problem with christening Rosie?

A: For me, it HAD to be Molly.  Her character and the way she behaves in the show is consistent with the behaviour of a Christian.  She loves Sherlock unconditionally; she sees beyond the detective persona to the real man beneath.  She needs to be the catalyst for Sherlock to be open to the idea of Christianity, because he loves and trusts her.  John, although he certainly believes in God and has some Christian (or Catholic in my story canon) background, does not live a life that is consistent with Christianity and its ideals.  He has multiple sexual partners.  Although I think he is an ethical man, I don’t believe he has the kind of sexual morality that is typical of committed Christians. Identifying yourself as a Christian because you were raised in a Christian home and went to church, does not make you one if you display behaviour that is contrary to what the Bible teaches.  Either you’re committed to what you believe and try to follow what the Bible teaches, or you are not really committed to your faith, (not that Christians are perfect - far from it, but we do try to follow what the Bible teaches, and we feel guilt when we fail).  There’s a difference between being a Jesus fan and a Jesus follower.

Q: What evidence does Molly use to convince Sherlock of a Higher Power?

A:  In various stories, Molly points out the beauty and balance of creation, that it does not make sense for that balance to have occurred spontaneously.  She also points out the complexity of the human body and how it is built with all its systems designed to work in harmony.  Personally, I believe these two facts are huge considerations, and that it takes far less of a leap in logic to believe something created this beauty, rather than it happening spontaneously.  Molly also points out the fact that Sherlock has been spared from death so many times and asks him to question why that is so, whether there is a higher purpose to his life because of that.  

Q: How do you maintain Sherlock’s acerbic wit and still have him believe that Jesus Christ is more than a swear, is a deity, the Deity?

A:  I try to show that Sherlock is not the “perfect” Christian.  He has many years of conditioning in one type of behaviour, and that is something that is going to come out from time to time. I don’t find it as difficult to write him as someone who does not use the name of Jesus Christ in a profane way, because he doesn't talk that way in the show (unlike John). Personally, I am also not comfortable in writing (or reading) stories that use the name of Jesus Christ as an expletive.

Q: What does belief in Jesus Christ do for his detective work? Or does it influence his detective work?

A: Oh, I definitely think his faith adds an element of compassion to Sherlock’s detective work.  He is no longer answerable only to himself, but he is trying to behave in a way that displays his faith and pleases God.  That means thinking before he speaks, caring about the people involved in the case, rather than just the case itself. His motives, to glorify God in his work, are his priority.

Q: Is there any evidence in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s writing that Sherlock Holmes believes in Something Higher than himself?

A:  I absolutely believe ACD’s Sherlock believed in God, which is one of the reasons I felt it believable to change BBC Sherlock’s atheistic stance.  ACD’s Sherlock mentions Providence, as evidenced in this quote from The Naval Treaty.

“Our highest assurance of the goodness of Providence seems to me to rest in the flowers. All other things, our powers, our desires, our food, are all really necessary for our existence in the first instance. But this rose is an extra. Its smell and its color are an embellishment of life, not a condition of it. It is only goodness which gives extras, and so I say again that we have much to hope from the flowers.”

Also, in The Boscombe Valley Mystery, when Sherlock lets a dying killer go, he says, “You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes.” This implies God will judge the man after he dies.

Penelope Chestnut

Q: How long have you written  Sherlolly stories? What made you start writing?

A: A dear friend of mine recommended watching Sherlock, and my husband and I binge watched it in the summer of 2017.  After the final episode, I was so sad that the Sherlock and Molly dynamic was not resolved, I was moved to write a happy ending for them.  My daughters have been involved in fanfiction for years, so I knew people did this kind of thing.  My intention was to write a one-shot happy ending for them, just for my own satisfaction.  After I wrote it, though, I found I didn't want to let the characters go.   I had fallen in love with their story, and I wanted to keep writing for them.  60 chapters later, I decided to start publishing my story, A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage.  This was just over 3 years ago, on November 7th 2017,  when I joined fanfiction.net.  I later joined ao3 as well and was publishing on both sites for quite some time.  I've had a better response though on fanfiction.net, so have pretty much limited myself to that site over the past year and a half.  I continue to make revisions and correct errors on my fanfiction.net stories, while I don’t really do anything on ao3. I have been likened to a writing machine on a couple occasions.  To date, on fanfiction.net, I have published over 1.9m words.  Putting that in perspective, in three years I've published the equivalent of more than 7 volumes of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (the longest book in her series), or close to two and a half volumes of the Holy Bible.

Q: Do you have a certain routine you follow when you write?

A: I don’t have a set daily routine, but I do set myself a goal to complete a certain amount of work per week.  This has changed over time.  Currently, I set myself the goal to write at least one chapter of a story each week, to keep myself in line with my publishing schedule of one chapter per week.  If I am writing an installment for my COVID-19 series that is published in addition to my regular publishing schedule, I still try to write that in addition to my usual chapter writing for the week.  So, at times I write more in a week than other times. I am also working on revising one of my AU’s into a Christian historical romance I hope to publish professionally next year.  

Q: What is it like being a Christian author?

A: It brings me joy to spread a Christian message through my work, but, like anyone else, at times I do suffer self-doubt.  I've questioned in the past whether my limited audience makes worthwhile the enormous effort I put into writing these stories.  It can definitely be discouraging to get very little return on your work, and I have a bad habit of comparing myself to more “popular” writers in the fandom.  I am, however, getting better at recognizing my own self-worth, having confidence that the lack of readers is not a reflection on my ability and talent as a writer, but more a reflection on the general lack of interest from the majority of Sherlolly fans in reading stories with Christian themes and the values that go along with it (particularly sexual purity outside marriage). Just as I don’t care to read stories of characters with a colourful sexual history because I don’t agree with that kind of behaviour due to my Christian beliefs, I imagine those without similar beliefs are probably not interested in reading about sexual purity or abstinence before marriage, as it is not something they can relate to. Thankfully, I am blessed to have a small but vocal support group who really give me the impetus to keep writing these Christian stories.

Q: Are there any devices you use in your writing as a legally blind author?

A:  As I mentioned earlier, I absolutely would be lost without my iPad.  Actually, it is the larger sized iPad Pro.  I would also be lost without programs that give me the ability to resize the font so I can read it!  Thank God for technology!

If you made it to the end of this two-part interview, I hope you enjoyed getting to know my writing journey better.  God bless!

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Between the Sky’s Grasp

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @kokikomachi

Rating/Warnings: T (darker themes such as abuse and violence are mentioned in a story within the story but in the main plot, there’s just the underlying toxicity of idol culture, permeating the atmosphere with a off-putting stink)

Prompt: Idol Izuru goes on a date with a Fan Komaeda (with an additional reference to the Sweets Paradise DR X Illustrator Cafe Collab Designs because I have no self-control)

Author’s notes: You probably wanted something fluffier and I’m deeply sorry if that was the case. I spend more of my time thinking about Perfect Blue than I should but while the story isn’t nearly that dark, I did still aim for the more darker elements since I’m pretty invested in them. I also feel bad because I feel like I could’ve worked in all three prompts and ultimately left one out, but hopefully this is still good! Dark fairytales are a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine and yeah, I could talk all day about idol culture, so hopefully this fic has appeal on those grounds if nothing else. I hope it has a more general appeal, too, aha. I kinda dig how the characterization turned out. I feel like this fic could easily be expanded, but for now, it’s a modest 5K. Please enjoy. <3

The song playing is one of his own. Someone hums along as they shift through CDs. With a restrained squeal, that person finds what they are looking for—and Kamukura recognizes the cover immediately. It’s his latest single.

“They have it after all!” is exclaimed. “How lucky!”

“So, you are a fan?” Kamukura asks softly and coolly. The other jumps, cheeks pinking as they twirl on their heel to face him. With that pallor and snow-white hair, the red of their blush stood out significantly. “I could not help but overhear.”

“I-I, um—yes!” They seem to be having trouble meeting his gaze. If Kamukura Izuru wasn’t already confident in his disguise masking his features, any remaining concerns would have been waived from just how uncomfortable and anxious the other was when being addressed. “I’m sorry, was I being too loud? When I get excited—I hear I can go a bit overboard, aha.”

“It is alright,” he said simply. “I spoke up due to being curious about you.”

“Are you a fan of Kamukura Izuru, too?” There’s a flicker within that gaze, though the fan’s eyes remain modestly diverted. “I collected everything of his—even the stage musicals. Even now hearing his voice puts my heart at ease.”

He’s infatuated. How boring. Kamukura clicked his tongue, remembering his manager’s words. I should still press further.

“There are other rising stars growing considerably in popularity.” Because they are more human. Because they put forth more emotion. Emotion which makes up for the lack of talent. “Kamukura Izuru being overthrown may be inevitable.”

“I-I definitely don’t believe that! Kamukura-kun’s incredibly talented and his voice is indescribably striking!” the other protested. “There’s no one else like that!”

Talented. All I really have is talent. This fan has provided me with nothing else. How boring.

“True. I suppose he is one of a kind. Just like anyone else.”

“You’re quite rude, you know,” the other pointed out irritably. “And I thought my social skills were poor. What bad luck. But I suppose I should’ve expected it.” With a pause, he gives the CD a fond smile before pushing past Kamukura. “Excuse me.”

“What is your name?”

“My name?” They paused, lips pursing. “Komaeda Nagito. What of it? I’d rather not continue to associate with you.”

Kamukura’s lips twisted at the irony.                  

How interesting. How will you react, then?

“That is a shame. I would prefer to continue our interactions, then, even if you already detest me.”

“Haaah? Why? Are you a masochist?” Komaeda’s head tilted. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata Hajime.” The lie slips off his tongue with ease. “Allow me to treat you to dinner. As an apology for my…poor social skills, I suppose.”

Komaeda blinks at him, eyes wide for a moment. The invitation left him baffled and mulling over it, and Kamukura could tell he was too taken aback to immediately say no.

“I insist,” he pressed. “I really would like to apologize.”

Even if I truly do not care.

Komaeda finally shrugged.

“If this ends with you stabbing me in an alleyway, I would still turn out alright. So why not? Oh, but, if this is an elaborate ploy to mug me, I’ll give you money here and now if you want. Um.” He waved the CD. “After I buy this. May I at least keep this?”

Huh.

“I have no plans to steal from you. Or to stab you.”

“If you say so…if you lied, that’ll reflect worse on you than on me.”

This fanatic—is actually peculiar as a person.

Interest flared in Kamukura’s gut, his heart picking up at the realization. It was an odd, almost overblown reaction—but it was one that drove him forward in a way he’d never experienced before.

Is this love at first sight? Or mere excitement?

His manager would be so shocked to hear of this, and that did bring a smile to Kamukura Izuru’s face.

“I’m not lying. Purchase your find and we shall leave together.”

Komaeda nodded.

“Okay, Hinata-kun.”

I can’t help but hope this feeling will fester.

–

“Tell me about yourself, Komaeda Nagito.”

“So demanding off the bat. How comforting,” Komaeda remarked with wry sarcasm as he sipped at his soda. “Um. I guess I’m a college drop out. I’m looking to get back into class but there have been—difficulties. I don’t have a job but I get by on inheritance. I have no outstanding features or abilities. Except I guess I’m good at cleaning. Maybe I should get a custodial job, then?” He begins to more muse to himself. “I have no need for money, though. I’m utterly aimless.”

“Interesting,” Kamukura replied. “You contribute nothing to society.”

“Yep!” Komaeda chirped. “I’m a total waste of space! I do try to help out other people who are much more worthwhile and capable but I tend to mess that up a lot, too. I really have nothing going for me except ridiculous luck, probably. The fact that I’m alive in spite of my many shortcomings and flaws must count for something. Haha.” A pause. “Although maybe a custodial job would be good for me after all…but I worry about making a bigger mess than I can clean up…”

Someone this useless should definitely evoke a number of emotions. Exasperation. Frustration. Disgust. Contempt. Pity. Such emotions could be applied to a song. I doubt this is what the manager had intended, however.

“You’re just listening to me ramble,” Komaeda observed, head tilted. “Don’t you have anything better to do, Hinata-kun?”

“No, I do not.”

“Oh. Okay.” He sips more of his water, quiet and contemplative. Likely still confused by this turn of events. Kamukura considered, for a moment, about informing him of the truth—but to shift that look of pondering curiosity into fervent fanaticism had little appeal. Especially when Komaeda met his stare, and those wide gray-greens narrowed. “So, what about Hinata-kun?”

“You want to know about myself?” Quirking an eyebrow, Kamukura pressed his elbow against the table as he leaned into his hand. A gesture made only because of the seeming appropriateness of it. “I am much like yourself. Directionless. Aimless. There is little to discuss.”

“Oh. I see.” Komaeda frowned. “Is this a social experiment?”

“Yes, it is. Quite perspective, aren’t you.”

“Ah, my luck would put me in this kind of situation, wouldn’t it,” Komaeda murmured. “Now is this good luck or bad luck? I wonder what to expect.”

Expect?

Kamukura did straighten at that.

“Komaeda Nagito. What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Komaeda cheerfully brushed him off. “It doesn’t concern you, Hinata-kun, if you really are just some nobody experimenting.”

Kamukura frowned. He couldn’t help but feel—frustrated at such a response, but he said nothing more as no response felt appropriate.

Their food was set out by the friendly waitress, who predictably smiled when Komaeda cheerfully thanked her. With a nod and the typical boring platitudes, she was off. Kamukura paid her no further mind. Instead he focused on Komaeda, humming as he bit into a slice of toast.

“It is unusual that you ordered breakfast food for lunch,” Kamukura remarked. “Perhaps that is a mere preference.”

“It’s not that strange,” Komaeda said through a mouthful of toast. “Quite a few people are like that.”

“I suppose.” He began to cut his meal into perfect pieces, each the same size. When he brought one to his mouth, it was with elegance. Not a drop out of place.

“The way you eat is much more unusual,” Komaeda pointed out. “But, I guess it’s endearing.” He softly chuckles into his hand. “Is this your first time on a date?”

“Could you tell?” Kamukura asked dryly. Komaeda laughs again.

“I-I’ve never been on a date before either and yet somehow I could still tell, haha!” Komaeda Nagito ends up coughing a few times, having to down more of his drink so that he could breathe. His cheeks are flushed from the exertion, and he clears his throat while avoiding the other’s gaze. Despite that, his lips are still curved upwards and it’s—certainly a sight.

“How would you say this is going?” Kamukura asked, less dry than before. “Would you care for a revisit?”

“What kind of wording is that?” Komaeda snorted, covering his mouth. Another muffled string of giggles. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t mean to laugh so much, it’s just…it’s just…!”

People laugh for all kinds of reasons. Mirth. Humor. Embarrassment. Disbelief. Misery. Although I have never laughed at all. Another aspect that others find unnerving. Inhuman.

“Another date,” he found himself saying. “After this one.”

“M-Mmm…” Finishing the rest of his drink, Komaeda’s eyes were wide and inquisitive. “Okay. If you’re going to demand with such a scary face.”

Kamukura nods, eyes intent and intense and yet Komaeda smiles without a care.

Oh.

Oh.

Komaeda’s smile is bright.

–

“Yooo, Kamukuraaaa! Heeeey!”

Kamukura pointedly ignores the calls in lieu of staring out a window, out at the clouds.

“Hey, heeeeeey!!”

Rather obnoxiously, he can see the caller reflected in the window glass. A wide smile—but not like Komaeda Nagito’s. Not like his at all. Komaeda wasn’t so outstanding with his appearance and force of personality. Kamukura stares at his own reflection, at his own features that have been called striking many a times.

“Enoshima-san!” someone else calls, firm yet friendly. “Kamukura-san seems busy. How about I show you around elsewhere?”

“Urgh, laaaaame! But would you really do that, Maizono-san? Aww, such a doll!”

That Enoshima is finally led away, and Kamukura lets his eyes flutter. He can’t see Maizono’s expression in the window, but he has observed her enough times.

“You do seem pretty deep in thought, Izuru-kun,” is remarked by another presence. The more mild-mannered man who likely kept his head down when entering rooms, although he too, had a particular smile. One that was likely as weathered into his face as the early wrinkles despite an arguable youth. “Have you been thinking about what I suggested?”

“Go out more, have more experiences, you may find the world more beautiful,” Kamukura droned, ever unimpressed. “Truth be told, those suggestions were too vague to be helpful.”

“Ah, sorry about that,” the other apologizes, smile apologetic. Again, Kamukura thinks of Komaeda. “But, for what it’s worth—you do seem to be in a better mood than usual. Has something happened after all?”

“You could say that,” Kamukura spoke more to the window, eyes more entranced by the overcast clouds floating above, blanketing the blue sky. “Kirigiri-san, your only desire is for efficiency. The details do not matter.”

Kirigiri’s face surely twisted a bit, but that smile would still remain.

“I do worry about you as a person, Izuru-kun, not just as your manager,” he goes on to say. Kind and gentle, like any well-meaning adult. “So, when you suffer a slump, it concerns me deeper than you may think.”

He assumes I think so shallowly of him. Even though he is, indeed, a shallow person.

“Perhaps,” Kamukura says. “The next song should be based on the sky.”

“Ah.” There’s a soft laugh from his manager. “That’s a surprisingly quaint subject for you, Izuru-kun. Head in the clouds, huh?”

He’s a shallow, shallow man.

“Something like that, I suppose.”

The perfect manager for an even more shallow individual such as myself.

–

He does not always write his own songs, because he finds he has too much and too little to say at the same time. And yet, when he finds a topic to focus on, it’s with perfect precision. Like a surgeon with a scalpel, he cuts through the ideas and meanings to delves into the core. Kirigiri had once compared his lyrics to a scholarly paper with one of those not-quite laughs. Despite the dryness of such a comparison, he had still been entranced by the song when recorded.

And yet, Kamukura Izuru could not say he felt much. Once he poured out everything, he was nothing more than a husk to be detached and left to rot. And yet, he was expected to continue. To write another song. And another.

Eventually, he is given the option to have a different songwriter—but he is told the results are less effective. Less interesting. More boring. And the brightness of the spotlights—both literal and metaphorical—are headache-inducing.

Truth be told, he’s not sure what the point of it all is. He simply remains because he has no direction.

No direction except for Komaeda Nagito, waiting by a sculpture of birds, with a couple pigeons even flocking by his feet. No aim towards anything except Komaeda meeting his stare and waving him over with a grin.

“Hinata-kun! It’s a special exhibit today!” he exclaims. “It’s the Underworld! One of the pieces is a re-imagining of Orpheus and Eurydice! There’s also paintings of spirits related to Taiwanese folklore…”

“Death is our certain, its hour uncertain,” Kamukura replied, cryptic and lyrical and Komaeda’s eyes sparkled.

“I recognize the reference! Hinata-kun’s actually quite well-read! How impressive!” Komaeda gives a round of applause. “You might have well seduced me then and there! Aha, kidding, kidding!”

With a twirl on his heel, Komaeda beamed up at him.

“Come on, Hinata-kun! Let’s hurry up and go inside!”

Kamukura is well-used to simply falling in line. To being manipulated and pulled along without complaint. He follows Komaeda ever compliantly here as well—and yet.

There is something else. Something that pulls him in rather than along. Even though Komaeda is lost within the museum booklet, still rambling about the various displays and exhibits. There is a minimal amount of space between them; it is all that could be considered necessary. And yet, Kamukura contemplates being closer. Pressing his shoulder to Komaeda’s. Allowing for the tickle of those wild white curls against his cheek.

It’s different. It’s odd.

“The map says this way, Hinata-kun!”

Kamukura follows. Ever compliant.

–

“Y’know, one of my favorite songs from Kamukura Izuru is about death,” was said at one point. Komaeda is looking upon a depiction of the Underworld, ever taken in. “It’s a natural human curiosity—and yet, it made me feel like no other. In that moment, Kamukura Izuru could’ve had his hands around my neck with how taken I was.”

“I see.”

“Such an impassive response!” Komaeda did pout but it was good-naturedly. “Hinata-kun, you strike me as hard to please. Except you’re here with me so I wonder how true that is.”

Komaeda skipped ahead to look at more art pieces. Kamukura followed after him. It’s largely quiet, despite the humble crowd gathered and scattered about. There are some couples, but mostly it’s groups college students, taking notes and talking amongst each other about their assignments. Komaeda does glance at them as he passes by but he’s careful not to linger. He doesn’t even make a remark.

There’s laughter from the group, and Komaeda nearly trips. Kamukura catches him swiftly, and takes note of how Komaeda’s face is flushed.

“I’m sorry,” is said as his date almost slumps into his arm. “Um. I feel like—I’m suffocating, Hinata-kun. Can we go outside for a bit?”

“Mm.”

–

There was a song I heard once—about a pair of children trapped in a museum. I listened to it, listened to the supposed heart in the song, and I still felt impassive. However—

Komaeda had clung to him as they made their way outside. Komaeda was slight and frail, as if simply dropping him to the ground could shatter him. Even through his coat sleeves, he felt the chill of Komaeda’s grip sink into his skin.

He remembers his song about death. The one Komaeda had mentioned. It is then and there, he realized how shallow and vapid it was.

“Sorry, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs to him in a soft voice, one that could so easily be crumbled by the wind. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Kamukura presses him close, embraces more of that chill and softness. Komaeda stiffens but he relaxes despite his clinging grip remaining ever tight.

How shallow and vapid have I always been?

–

The words come to mind, but never with emotions behind them. There is an art, of course, to pace and cadence. To beats and melodies.

“You really are talented, Izuru-kun.”

He thinks of wrapping his fingers around Komaeda Nagito’s neck. The image is quick to morph, with his hands moving upwards to instead cup Komaeda Nagito’s jaw. Brushing his thumbs over Komaeda Nagito’s cheeks and lips. Komaeda Nagito’s smile without a care.

“While you’re brilliant, you’re just—missing something.”

Komaeda Nagito sighing, pressing into his touch. Relaxing. Smiling.

“Why don’t you go out and just—experience the world a bit? You’ll find what you’re missing sure enough.”

It had been a ridiculous suggestion, because he knew what his manager wanted was undefined and vague. It was ridiculous, because to ask an idol to open up more to the world was dangerous. Treacherous. One might as well welcome contempt.

Kamukura Izuru knows that idols are expected to exist within a constrained paradox. Open to everyone, available to no one. Sincere while obscuring most of their true selves. Expected to act human while seated atop an inhuman pedestal. The perfect person in turns of looks, charm, and personality—a façade that was never to be shattered lest the pieces cripple the person.

It was—boring. Uninteresting. Egregious and yet expected.

Even Kamukura Izuru, who never really saw himself as a person, recognized the folly and impossibility. Really, approaching someone in spite of the dangers was an inevitability. Fixating on them for a change of pace was expected. Logistically speaking, it could have been anyone. It didn’t have to be Komaeda Nagito.

“Whenever you’re all deep in thought like that, I can’t help but worry, Hinata-kun.”

“About what?”

“About whether or not you’ve decided to kill me!” Komaeda exclaims with such wide-eyed seriousness, Kamukura notes birds scattering from the sound.

“If you truly held such concerns, you should worry more about your instincts of self-preservation,” Kamukura pointed out, settling on the bench, listening to the leaves rustle below and above. “You’re quite the peculiar person, Komaeda Nagito, not rejecting someone you distrust.”

“I haven’t seen a reason to reject you quite yet,” was Komaeda’s simple response. “And it’d be boring to avoid every bit of potential danger. Besides, I’m curious about you, too.”

Curious, he says. Thus, anyone else could be in my position. In this situation. Sitting with Komaeda Nagito in the park, staring at nothing in particular.

Kamukura tugs idly at his hat, conscious now of his wig and color contacts. The disguise he wore that reflected in Komaeda’s innocent stare.

“Do you wish to know more about me?”

In that moment, the rest of the world felt disconnected. Komaeda hummed thoughtfully, and he shrugged.

“Maybe? I wouldn’t know if I’m that curious about you.”

“Have you ever been that curious about anyone?” Kamukura finds himself asking. “Your beloved idol, perhaps?”

“No way! That’s way too presumptuous! Besides.” Komaeda laughs. “We’re not on the same level at all.”

“I suppose.”

“You only suppose! So naïve, Hinata-kun!” Another laugh. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t understand at all?”

“I cannot read your mind, Komaeda Nagito.”

“No.” Komaeda pauses briefly, rubbing his lower lip with a perplexed furrow of his brows. “Ah. Maybe it’s—you don’t understand why I love Kamukura Izuru as an idol?”

“It’s because of his talent,” was the obvious answer.

“Maizono Sayaka-san is also a very talented idol and I don’t love her nearly as much,” Komaeda corrected, shaking his head. “It’s more because of his presence. Even when in the same vicinity, Kamukura Izuru feels so distant.”

Distance is both a strength and a weakness for an idol.

“Come to think of it, Hinata-kun gives off that feeling too,” Komaeda went on. “Even when right beside you, you feel unreachable.” He leans against him. “It’s not as comforting as it is with Kamukura Izuru. If anything, I get incredibly anxious.”

Komaeda presses against him, rubbing his face into his shoulder.

“Mm… Kamukura-kun.”

His fingers trail down his arm, tugging gently at his sleeve.

“Even like this, I’m rather anxious. Shouldn’t you reassure me?”

Kamukura patted his head. Komaeda clung to him.

“Better than that.”

Kamukura kissed his forehead. Komaeda flinched, flushing quite darkly.

“W-Worse than that! Too much! Too much!” He rubs where Kamukura’s lips had been. “U-Urgh! I-I might faint, Hinata-kun…!”

Kamukura snorted softly.

“Ah!” Komaeda covers his eyes next. “Way too much! Now you’re smiling, Hinata-kun! It’s creepy!”

Smiling?

Kamukura stilled, impulsively wanting to feel it with his hands. He doesn’t. At least, not when Komaeda is still close to him like this. It would be—inappropriate.

“A-Ah, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda lets out a squeal when Kamukura presses him even closer, presses him into his shoulder so that it is physically impossible for Komaeda to see the expression on his face. That expression which no one else has ever seen.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda whined. “P-People are going to stare.”

“We can go somewhere more private, then,” is the obvious remark.

“E-Eh?!”

“Somewhere like your home, Komaeda Nagito,” Kamukura says then. “Shall we go?”

“What a thing to ask… Hinata-kun, you’re so dangerous.” Komaeda laughs. “And I’ve always lived so recklessly.”

He has no idea how this goes both ways, Kamukura thinks and it’s the first time it truly occurs to him. If anyone were to know—if even Komaeda Nagito were to know… I could be destroyed so easily.

The idea was beyond exhilarating.

–

Komaeda lived modestly but also sparsely. While it was a comfortably-sized home, it also was minimally furnished save for shelves of books and CDs. There were a couple of trinkets, but little else décor. Kamukura slipped off his shoes, and he breathed in the smell of bleach.

“I just cleaned earlier,” Komaeda explains about seeing his nose wrinkle. “I enjoy cleaning. I might even be good at it, ehe.”

“If you cleaned any further, I wonder what would remain of this place,” Kamukura replied, shuffling after him. “Goodness, your kitchen looks completely unused.”

“I don’t use it,” Komaeda said, just a little flustered. “I don’t know how to cook. My fridge isn’t really stocked either. I typically eat out. It’s not the healthiest way to live but—it is what it is.”

“Convenience is a virtue in these bustling times.”

He runs his fingers along the various spines of books. He pauses when he notes that there’s a journal on the table. He politely ignores it as he sits.

“Sorry, I don’t have a television,” Komaeda apologizes almost meekly. “I also still need to buy a new tea kettle. Actually, all I really do when I’m hope is read, write, and sleep.” He gives an almost careless shrug. “Maybe stare out the window for hours if that’s the mood.”

I’m the same way. I know how empty such a pattern is.

“I like writing stories and song lyrics!” Komaeda exclaimed next, lighting up as he indicated the journal finally. “This is full of ideas. They’re all awful, but not having anyone to share them with is boring so feel free to read through.”

With a huff, Kamukura flipped through. Indeed, there were meager attempts at poetry, even a few mindless scribbled sketches with the skill of a toddler. One in particular, caught his eye.

“The Rotten Wolf?”

“Ah, that one’s embarrassing,” Komaeda laughed, cupping his cheek. “But what do you think of it?”

Kamukura squinted, trying to decipher the truly abysmal writing before skimming through.

There was once a boy lost and starving in the forest. As he sulked, he was found by what seemed to be a friendly wolf. The wolf led him to his owner’s house, which was made of candy among other confectionery treats. Happy, the boy gorged himself to his heart’s content. When the witch returned however, shrouded in shadow and insulted by the insolence, that witch imprisoned the boy and snapped at the wolf.

The boy was terrified as the wolf was ridiculed. Eventually, however, the witch had the wolf bring the boy meals meant to fatten him up. Realizing that he was going to be eaten afterwards, the boy refused to eat anything. The wolf tried to cajole him, but it was to no avail.

The boy would then begin to cry, to the wolf’s dismay. Any attempts at comfort were ignored, even the wolf apologized frantically for putting him in this situation. After days past, the wolf was further scorned, punished, and even starved for the boy’s disobedience. The boy saw how cruel the witch was, how the witch sneered at what a pitiful monster the wolf was.

The witch finally grew fed up with waiting and decided to throw the boy into the oven then and there. However, while preparing the oven, the wolf snapped and shoved the witch inside, shutting it and trapping the witch to their death. The boy, dazed and dizzy from his self-induced starvation, could only watch as the wolf retrieved the keys to his cage and trotted over.

Mustering up the last bit of strength he had, the boy not only freed himself but sank to his knees in gratitude before the wolf.

“The witch was wrong,” the boy said, running his fingers over and over through the wolf’s coarse fur. “You are not a monster, wolf.”

For a while, the wolf enjoyed the affection he had never known before. His tag began to wag furiously, thumping like a racing heart against the ground.

“No,” the wolf said, for he too, was delirious and giddy and salivating. “I am a monster. But I will keep your kindness within me always. I’m sorry.”

And with that admission, the wolf gobbled the boy up, laughing and sobbing all the while.

Kamukura blinked once at the ending, he blinked again at the crude scribbles of what was to be assumed was a wolf tearing a boy limb from limb.

“It’s a miserable story, Komaeda Nagito.”

“I thought so, too!” Komaeda exclaimed, as if affronted. “It’s so depressing! Not hopeful at all! And, yet.” He frowned. “When I thought about the wolf taking the boy home, it didn’t sit well with me.”

“Perhaps this is a reflection, then, of a deeply held belief,” Kamukura said. “One so unpleasant that even you do not like to acknowledge it, and yet, it still resurfaces. Time. And time again.”

That of an abused monster who takes further destruction over compassion and forgiveness. I wonder—if Komaeda Nagito learned the truth about me, what would he think? Immediate love? Reverence? Or would he be wary and afraid the way that boy should have been?

“Aha, you sound so contemplative, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda hummed then, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did something strike you?”

Komaeda’s gaze briefly flickers between him and the open notebook. That smile waned. His lips pursed.

“What I would give to know the thoughts swimming behind that dense gaze of yours.”

You would surely drown if you knew.

“Y’know, Kamukura Izuru’s voice is also so densely packed with meaning, regardless of the words being said,” Komaeda went on. “It was overwhelming. Suffocating. And yet, I found myself enraptured. Hinata-kun is—different from that, of course. You’re tangible for one thing.”

An idol should not be tangible.

And yet, all the same, he took Komaeda Nagito’s frail, pale hand and held it within his own.

“So much of you is vague and indecipherable,” Komaeda went on, ducking his head with pinking cheeks. “However, you are still tangible, Hinata-kun.”

He squeezed Komaeda’s hand. It’s cold.

“I…think this is enough.” Finally, finally, he releases and pulls back, putting the appropriate distance between them. “I apologize. I may have pushed boundaries if not outright crossed them.”

“Eh?” Komaeda’s expression remains innocent if inquisitive. “Why does that matter to you now, Hinata-kun?”

What kind of question is that? Shouldn’t the answer be obvious? Then again, Komaeda Nagito really has no self-preservation at all, does he. He allowed it to escalate to this extent, and was clearly prepared to matters to go even further. Even deeper.

“I apologize,” he found himself saying in lieu of anything else. Explanations. Confessions. He felt deeply in the wrong. How bizarre. The sudden wave of guilt was—painful. “I truly apologize.”

Komaeda frowns.

“Goodness. I really don’t understand you at all. But I guess I forgive you.”

“I used you,” he burst out with. “Are you that detached?”

“I let you use me because I didn’t care, yes,” Komaeda admits it so easily. Kamukura sees himself and it’s startling. “I thought it would be interesting, after all.”

Despite that, despite everything, Kamukura takes Komaeda’s hand and squeezes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’m sorry. I didn’t care either at first—and that was wrong of me.”

How treacherous this is, not just for an idol but for a person.

“You’re upset, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda’s frown deepens. “I really—don’t understand.”

“One day I hope you do,” Kamukura whispered, running his thumb over Komaeda’s bony knuckles. “For now, it’s best we part. Thank you for indulging a stranger—but please, for your own sake, be more careful.”

“Aha! What are you, a parent?” Komaeda laughed without a hint of mirth. “I’m not a fan of that, even if I’m definitely going to feel a little lonelier after you leave. Please don’t forget about me when you go, Hinata-kun?”

“I won’t.”

“Oh, but if you’re going to use me to tell embarrassing stories, I’d rather you didn’t,” Komaeda went on, waving his free hand. “I’d rather just remain in your thoughts if that’s okay.”

“Very well. I—do not think I can share you with the rest of the world either way.” Kamukura inhaled. “Because, I would like to keep you safe, I’ve realized. Which is why—it is best that we part.”

“Mmm, still don’t understand but I’ll accept it all the same, I guess.” Komaeda smiled brightly. “Hinata-kun, it was nice meeting you. Oh! Should I give you a farewell present for putting up with me this long?”

Kamukura is quiet for a moment before he reaches out and ruffles Komaeda’s hair. Komaeda giggles at the gesture.

“Just your regards are enough, Nagito. Thank you. I apologize. Please—take care.”

With that, he stands. Komaeda skips after him, following him to the door.

“If I ever see you again, can you tell me more about yourself?” Komaeda asks as he retrieves his shoes. “Like, maybe your actual name, perhaps?”

Ah. What a selfish desire on both our parts.

“Kidding!” Komaeda chirped. “I’m not nearly as indulgent as you are!”

Kamukura hummed, not responding as he slips on his shoes and opens the door.

“Take care, Kamukura-kun.”

He immediately froze, but by the time he spun on his heel, Komaeda had already shut the door between them. And there was nothing more to it.

Nothing but to duck his head in further apology before finally going on his way.

–

“Ah, good morning, Kamukura-kun.”

“Good morning.” He nods politely, playing with the petals of the various flowers set in a vase. “Early as usual, Maizono Sayaka-san.”

“Haha, yes, and that’s not the only thing we have in common either,” Maizono chirps, holding up her own bouquet of lilies. “How have you been? How are things going with Kirigiri-san?”

Always so quaint. Always with ease.

“I arrived early to give myself time to think about what to tell him, actually,” he said. “I would not be surprised if a certain someone caught wind of the ridiculous assignment that he gave me.”

“Enoshima-san might have mentioned something like that,” Maizono admitted rather sheepishly. “If you’re insecure about it, you shouldn’t worry, Kamukura-kun. Kirigiri-san’s not really expecting anything grand, I don’t think. Of course.” Brushing past him. “You’re not the type to admit to insecurity, even as part of the performance.”

“No, I am not. But. I did realize the folly of Kirigiri-san’s demands.” A pause, in both his words and Maizono’s steps. “He asked for something impossible. And something I ended up unwilling to share, anyway.”

“Ooh, how scandalous,” Maizono joked ever good-naturedly, such a practiced actress that the edge was near perfectly obfuscated by her sweet laugh and smile. “But it’s good to have some privacy from the public eye. Just be careful.” She does hesitate for a moment before smiling again. “You know how Enoshima-san is about gossip. And even Kirigiri-san can be stern. Not like his daughter, though.”

It’s similar. The way Nagito smiles compared to this.

“It’s selfish, but I hope I see that person again,” he whispered.

“I hope so too,” Maizono said honestly. “I can already tell you’re much brighter, Kamukura-kun. Just try not to be blinding! I can’t lose to you, after all!”

With a cheerful wave and skip, Maizono fled that scene. Idly, Kamukura wondered about her, but inevitably, his mind went back to Komaeda Nagito. It’s painstakingly simple for that image to warp in various ways. From twisted and troubling—to soft and sublime.

There was a note attached to the letter he got. The handwriting is neat and fancy, nothing like Komaeda Nagito’s shaky penmanship.

Too dizzying. Too distracting. Too blinding.

And despite that, a smile pulls at his lips despite the fact that he is still utter devoid of joy.

There is no scientific explanation for him and what he evokes the way there is for the sky and its sensations. And even though that is absolutely illogical, Komaeda Nagito is both as consuming and as distant as that same sky. How difficult for an idol. How difficult for me.

All the same time, he thinks he would have remained in blissful yet wretched emptiness if not for him and that counts for something.

I do want—to see his face in a crowd one day, but I’m not that selfish.

“Ah, Kamukura-kun!” Kirigiri lights up easily upon seeing him. “Ready for today already?”

“Yes,” Kamukura says, turning away even as everything about it lingered. “Of course.”

I’m happy to have just been heard by you. I do pray I can meet you properly one day. Perhaps at the end of all of this where the sky ends and the world begins.

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, ALEX! You’ve been accepted for the role of HORATIO. Admin Rogue: Alex, I can’t exaggerate enough how thrilled I was every moment of reading your app. You were so clever and thought so quickly, it was like seeing Hunter being built in front of me, until he became not just a character I wrote, but a person in his own right, quick-witted and dipped in gold. He was mesmerizing from start to finish; I believe I ended up half in love with him by the end of reading it. You brought such exciting depth to him that I can’t wait to see him brought to life! . Thank you for bringing my most beautiful son to the dash. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Alias | Alex Age | Twenty-four Preferred Pronouns | She/Her Activity Level | I am a full time grad student but because of the messy events happening throughout the world at the moment, I have been left with more free time than I know how to handle! I anticipate investing that time in plotting with people and beginning threads so once classes pick up again, I am in a rhythm and able to maintain stable activity (catching up on all/most replies 2-3 times a week). Timezone | US EST How did you find the rp?  | Honestly, at this point I don’t even remember. I have been lurking for eons, waiting for the right timing and the right character to become available, and now couldn’t be more perfect!

IN CHARACTER

Character | HORATIO, Hunter Marchesi

What drew you to this character? | There are about a thousand-and-one things that I could list here. I have always been drawn to characters that walk the line between golden and gilded, the ones that are a little bit too inhuman to be fully mortal and yet too weak to truly be a god. When I read Hunter’s biography, it was striking how electric he felt. Reading through the plot summaries, it’s evident that Verona has been wading through dark times for a while now, and glancing through several biographies, her inhabitants are not without their scars. Yet here is Hunter, a boy from out of town that stumbled into the greatest war the underbelly of Verona has ever seen. He’s too clever to be fully naïve, yet he’s rampantly green – and that newness brings with it a certain freshness. Hunter isn’t tarnished yet. His future is bright, and he’s ambitious enough to learn how to make himself known in a new society. All the possibilities that came tumbling in with Hunter was vastly appealing to me, as well as his capability to step confidently into this world. Also, this one line in Castora’s connection had me dead: “He doesn’t hate her of course; his family often deals in philanthropy.”

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character?

BECOMING INSTRUMENTAL: Being an initiate sounds significantly more important than Hunter currently feels. He’s too new to be helpful, too green to pretend that he knows what he’s doing. Hunter requires mentors to aid in his transition. After all, his face is one that’s never known a bruise, his fingers remain ignorant to the pulse of a trigger, and his nose blind to the rusting of blood. He has started taking on minor missions, learning what he can and aiming to impress, but he needs guidance if he’s going to thrive outside of his comfort zone, and the people that he receives that guidance from will leave a lasting impression upon the Montague’s newest recruit.

NEW MONEY: All his life, Hunter has lived within the penthouse of society. The Marchesi family had wealth so vast that it was rumored to transcend written record. Often, he heard his father discuss how he hardly considered new money families to be money at all. “After all, if you don’t have at least three generations of wealth, you’re no better than a peasant that happened to have a successful night of gambling.” Essentially, Hunter has no concept of what it means to happen into wealth, but he imagines it feels rather similar to his new position within the Montague ranks. It is not the Marchesi family that matters here. No, everyone around him owes blood it to the Montagues, and Hunter is beginning to expect there is no exchange rate for a life debt. He is dealing in an entirely new currency, which he finds remarkably exhilarating. His journey within the mob is just beginning, and as such he’s blinded by challenge and possibility and bolstered by a history that has never known failure. However, I anticipate Hunter stumbling as he assimilates into a new life, and as such, I expect that he will begin to struggle with his idea of self. Hunter is no longer defined by a name, or wealth, or charm; everyone around him carries such characteristics aplenty. For perhaps the first time, Hunter will need to learn how to identify himself without his very foundations, and that may entail a dash of demolition.

LOYALTY IS FICKLE: As someone that has only joined a mob to avoid certain death, Hunter lacks the strict loyalty that seems to flow through the veins of his new family. Of course, he remains loyal to his own life (who wouldn’t?), and to a certain degree, Henry (largely because the good professor had the courtesy to keep him alive). As such, Hunter is able to recognize that helping a Capulet would potentially ruin his future, but the fear of such ruination hasn’t yet gripped his heart. Why shouldn’t he reach out to Beau? What’s the worst that could happen? // The way I visualize this conflict entails Hunter reaching out to Beau before becoming completely entrenched within the Montague camp. Naturally, Hunter will come to realize just how dark and violent life at war can be, thus adding pressure to the help he’s become determined to offer, perhaps leading to the first glimmer that perhaps danger can be just as terrifying as it is invigorating.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | You have my blessing to kill him off as you see fit!

IN DEPTH

INTERVIEW

Hunter was never one to enjoy sitting still, and his leg bounced even as he reclined in his seat. Those that did not know him may mistake the bobbing as movement motivated by nervousness, yet there was too much light glittering across his eyes to be born of anything but excitement. He might as well have been starting his first day at his dream job, not beginning to repay a newly incurred life debt.

His accomplice didn’t appear quite as energetic. Their shoulders were slumped, their gaze downturned. When he’d walked in, Hunter had guessed him to be in his mid-twenties. With the cloud hovering over his head, he looked twice that age. Thirty minutes into a stake-out, Hunter had started picking up on the crow’s feet, the downward angle of his lips, the hair that was in desperate need of a trim. He’d always thought the grandiose mobsters of Verona would have more style.

Five minutes passed, and Hunter focused his attention on the dimly lit street in front of him. He’d been in the city less than a month now, and he barely recognized the intersection in front of them. “Where are we in the city?” he asked.

“Ten minutes north of the Roman Arena,” his partner answered. Hunter had introduced himself at the start of the mission, but his partner had settled for a quick once-over before settling on silence and slipping into the car. He hadn’t bothered to ask his name since.

“Haven’t made it to the Arena yet,” Hunter mused. His partner didn’t respond, so Hunter settled for another question. “What is your favorite place in Verona?” Again, he was met with silence. If they weren’t three hours into a stale stakeout, Hunter would have let it go. He would have read the tension between them as one better suited for silence, but three hours of nothing begged to be replaced by something of substance. “I think that I’ll be quite fond of Lamberti Tower when the time comes. Haven’t exactly had good reason to celebrate yet.” He leaned his head back against the headrest and waited for an answer that he knew wasn’t coming. This time, he let silence settle between them. The moon arched higher overhead, a desperate sliver against the abyss of the night sky.

Hunter glanced at the clock. It’d been ten minutes since his last question, meaning it was high time to strike up conversation again. “What’s your typical day like? So far, all I’ve done are stakeouts and guard shifts at the library.”

“Depends on the day.”

“You’re a real charmer, anyone ever tell you that?” Hunter softened the dig with a wink. “Know any particularly talented fighters? I’m looking for a sparring coach. Punching bags rarely hit back.” Silence. Not even a pity chuckle. “You’re going to need to start answering some of my questions. These are the easy ones.”

His partner glanced at him briefly. “Awfully bossy for an initiate, anyone ever tell you that?” A sigh, and Hunter assumed that was the end of the conversation but the next sentence came with a pleasant surprise. “What are you doing now? Working out? Running errands? Sucking up to your superiors? All worthwhile things, sure. But I’m guessing they aren’t scratching that adrenaline itch that drove you to sign up.”

“And what makes you think I have an – how did you put it? Adrenaline itch?”

“You’re young, confident, rich. The world was given to you on a silver platter so you’re wondering if it’ll taste different on paper. Need something to stoke your fire since you’ve never come in contact with real conflict. You made a mistake joining, kid.”

Hunter swallowed the first response that threatened to spring to his lips. His partner was trying to start a fight, to insult him to the point he’d shut up for the remainder of the night. He wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Alright then, if we’re talking about mistakes, teach me something. What’s the biggest mistake you’ve made thus far?”

“Man doesn’t go around bragging about his mistakes.”

For the first time all night, Hunter agreed with him. He didn’t want to speak of the first mistake he’d ever made in life that carried consequences. There was still something unsettling about remembering that night, Doctor Zhang creating bloodshed and making it disappear with the bat of an eye. He’d made it seem so easy, and Hunter couldn’t yet imagine himself in such a position. He’d wondered nightly if it was a mistake to have pursued Henry for this long, to think about him as frequently as he did. It led to far too many uncertainties. If Henry Zhang was his greatest mistake, then signing up for a philosophy course was the root of all evil. It sounded ridiculous. Naturally, that meant that the true nature of the mistake would require significantly more introspection than Hunter cared to participate in. So he settled: his biggest mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A shame, but at least it was true.

Nearly an hour passed, filled with a brief moment of excitement when they noted movement ahead only to be met by the visage of a couple stumbling home linked arm-in-arm. There were at least three hours still until sunrise, and Hunter was beginning to lose all motivation. There had to be a better use of time and resources. There was no way this would be his future.

“What’s the most difficult task they’ve asked of you?” he asked suddenly, sure that this night marked his own.

“Staking out in a car all night with an initiate that isn’t comfortable with silence.”

“I’m trying to learn. It shows initiative,” Hunter countered.

“It shows that you’re nosey.”

Hunter wanted to be offended, but he couldn’t help the soft laugh that bubbled from his lips. After a night of intermingled silence, distant traffic, and brusque responses, this was the closest thing to humor he’d encountered, even if it was at his own expense. “They haven’t asked anything difficult of me yet.”

“Be thankful for that, son. You need to learn how to crawl before you can walk.”

“Alas, I came out the womb already sprinting.” It might be the low lighting, but Hunter swore he saw the slightest smirk on his partner’s face. It was enough camaraderie to summon up the question he had been desperately wanting answered all night: “What are your thoughts on the war between the Capulets and the Montagues?”

What warmth he’d gained was quickly replaced with solid ice. “You shouldn’t ask questions like that.”

Hunter hummed. “Maybe not, but I’m still interested. I think it all seems very… personal. Professional on the surface, of course. They’re competing industries in a small space, conflict in inevitable. But it hardly seems as if they’re fighting over territory at this point. Everything feels much more intimate, and not in a particularly loving way.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He sounded confident, maybe even cocky. But he wasn’t entirely certain, and that unsettled him. Ever since arriving and locking himself within Verona’s perfect cage, he’d been trying to uncover the nature of this war they were fighting. If he was going to risk his life for someone, it only made sense to know why. Yet the answers were vague, elusive, textbook. There were too many layers of blood staining these streets to ever get at the bottom of it all, and Hunter was beginning to realize that like it or not, he’d been assigned a side in this war. And he would fight it.

EXTRAS

ZERO TO SIXTY: While Hunter was never groomed for war, a prior life of extravagance and wealth was not without its incidental lessons. Around his twentieth birthday, Hunter experienced a bout of boredom stronger than any that had come before. University was routine (save for the exception of a single course that oft labored late nights, red eyes, and grins that dripped sunshine), his parents were content with his performance, and his circle of friends remained vast and glittering of silver and gold. There was no change, no challenge looming ahead, and so he sought to create his own. // The first time he slipped into the driver’s seat of a Ferrari 488, he was sold. Looking back, he recognized his first lap as a slow fumble, but at the time he had felt himself a natural. Sinking into curves made his heart race, and the rumble of an engine with more power than he could control sent all thoughts of discontent scattering. Ever one to turn talent to profit, he began to race on the weekends, soaring with pride as his name began to climb the leaderboards of local tracks. The thought of turning his passion into a full-blown career would flit through his mind whenever he was standing in the winner’s circle, but he would wake the next morning with the knowledge that the lifetime wages of Formula One racers appeared mere pocket change next to the Marchesi fortune. Little did he know that he could one day turn his talent into a lucrative career as a getaway driver for the Montagues.

Driving playlist:   1. Physical // Dua Lipa. 2. Ride It // Regard. 3. Roller // Apache 207. 4. Red Flag // Billy Talent. 5. Run Boy run // Woodkid. 6. Slip // Skrizzly Adams. 7. Legend Has It // Run the Jewels.

FAMILIAL INFLUENCE: The headlines have been screaming it for ages: the British aristocracy is running low on funds. However, a single glance at the Marchesi family would cast doubt upon even the most reputable reporter. With manors in three different countries, the Marchesis have no qualms about demonstrating their wealth. // Jasper Marchesi was the eldest of four brothers, and he inherited his father’s art empire upon his death. Collectionswere the Marchesi trade, particularly the acquisition of difficult-to-come-by pieces. Jasper often cited the families distant Italian roots as being the source of his exquisite taste, and he honored the heritage by building a home in Milan. It was at this home that Hunter remembers spending a majority of the year, with voyages to Britain reserved for the holiday season and vacations to Brazil confined to the summer. // While her husband was rapt with the arts, Ana Marchesi believed that wealth was best unearthed in the modern-day gold of real estate. She began investigating just how lucrative buying, selling, and renting properties could be while her father was still traveling the world on diplomatic assignments. What started with a few rental houses quickly morphed into buying mansions left abandoned by new-money families that never had a chance of living in such elegance and transferring them (at a notable mark-up) back into the hands of those with the resources to invest in such a gilded future. Jasper reminded her on numerous occasions that such a business wasn’t necessary, that marrying into the Marchesi family meant that she had already bought into a future of diamonds and galas, but Ana insisted upon building her own empire. // Between the decadence of his father and the intrepid spirit of his mother, Hunter was destined for success. His family’s background required fluency in English, Italian, and Portuguese, and his father’s aptitude for the arts and his mother’s skill with finance instilled a harmony of practicum and creativity within him. He exclusively attended private schools as a child and enrolled in the most prestigious university in Italy without batting an eye. He pursued a degree in economics, and upon graduation assumed control of a subset of art galleries across Italy.

PLAYLIST

More // Poets of the Fall —What do you give someone who has it all? More, just to be sure. I got what I wanted so naturally I want more, what I paid for. Kansas City // The Mowgli’s — Been in a new town, got the same issues to work through. It turns out when you move, you just take them all with you. Wanna Be Missed // Hayley Kiyoko — I wanna be missed, like every night. I wanna be kissed, like it’s the last time. Say you can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t breathe without me. An Evening I Will Not Forget // Dermot Kennedy — I remember when her heart broke over stubborn shit. That’s no way to be living kid; the angel of death is ruthless. And I’m always thinking summertime with the bikes out, pushing our luck, getting wiped out, days with nothing but laughing loud. Power Over Me // Dermot Kennedy — I wanna be king in your story. I wanna know who you are. I want your heart to beat for me. Pay the Man // Foster the People — Seasons change, you know it’ll never be the same. We’ll see the sun again before it fades. I just wanna say [REDACTED]. Cringe // Matt Maeson — She said I’m looking like a bad man, smooth criminal. She said my spirit doesn’t move like it did before. She said that I don’t look like me no more. The Best // AWOLNATION —Me, I wanna walk a little bit taller. Me, I wanna feel a little bit stronger. Me, I wanna think a little bit smarter. Said I just want to be the best. Classic Man // Jidenna — My name, calling all night. I could pull the wool while I’m being polite. Like darling, calling all night. I can be a bull while I’m being polite. Bonus Track: 7 rings // Ariana Grande

PINTEREST

[bakasara]

Some Quentin ✨thoughts✨

ugh I have so many jumbled feelings regarding Q’s discipline. Others have pointed out how a part of Q is convinced that maybe his mother was right - he breaks everything - and now he’s found out his talent is the opposite. And there’s more. Since the beginnng Q’s had this idea of being the Big Damn Hero of the story. It makes sense: he grew up depressed and isolated, feeling misunderstood, estranged. Fantasizing about being the Chosen One with a superior, fated purpose in life made all his pain if not vindicated at least manageable.

He then started to be in a group of friends, a place where eventually he might belong. He went on adventures with them. This has finally made him question if being The Special One is the ultimate way of counting and belonging. He’s accepted that the cool cosmic destiny doesn’t usually pick him. No super power like Alice. No super talent for magical innovation like Julia. Not a King in his blood. He’s seen the nobility in being a friend’s sidekick. But that idea of the Cool Mega Fantasy Trope still carried him through all of his childhood and teenage years; it stuck with him. Even now he thought that when his discipline got revealed it’d be “something cooler”. However, none of those cool super things are the reason the group appreciates him. His role has always been being the glue that keeps people together. The one who wears his heart on his sleeve, something that even the less touchy-feely in the gang come to begrudgingly admire in him - see Margo’s coronation speech.

The two people who’ve fallen in love with him love him because his heart is fundamentally good and straightforward in its drive to do the right thing, to do right by the people he cares about, to be true to what he feels. Eliot expressed how it’s this, in Quentin, that he’s come to recognize as a difficult and valuable form of bravery. He said how it has inspired him to be truer and better himself, and arguably he’s not the only one in the gang who’s been similarly inspired (Julia told Q something similar, Margo seems to value this about him as well, Penny 40 used to hate Q but when he “died” he learned a lesson about humility and openness/connection that required much of Q’s particular brand of bravery...)

And there’s a second thing that Q’s learning, about the grandiosity of adventures. Big Damn Hero goes on Epic Quest has always been his ultimate pipe dream. He bet his self-realization on it. In his fantasies it’s what saves him, what finally gives him the reward that made his shitty life worthwhile. But he knows that’s not true. A boat quest is cool as hell for the 10 minutes before everything goes to shit, but it’s a one-time gig, not where solid, long-standing happiness resides. He has lived experience that the latter comes from something that is infinitely simpler and duller and more mundane and happens day after day. And it’s small. The best thing Q’s ever done was not god-scale universal meddling, it was repairing something small, for not one person but two. Not even “repairing” the whole person, because that’s impossible and it’s not on him. Everyone has to deal with their own shit and save themselves, but he’s got two people who are grateful to him for giving them something invaluable and healing, to the extent that anyone can ever gift that to somebody else. Considering it’s a very limited extent, and how very grateful those two people are, it says something of how bright Quentin’s talent is. Moreover, he’s found that this kind of gesture may be his special talent, but it’s not like Julia responding to prayers. This gesture can be given back. At which point he’s in the most simple of terms loved, and his happiness corresponds with it.

I don’t think I can go any further with these thoughts for now because too many things are up in the air right now. I’m being symbolical, but on a practical level Q has just discovered his discipline. It’ll no doubt come in handy but it hasn’t yet. He stands on shaky ground and the few things he was using to keep himself up are crumbling. But there’s something about Q’s emotional maturity that maybe it’s too early to articulate that has been going on for the whole show, which has had special focus in season 4. Or past 3x05 really. And the metaphorical implications of his discipline tie into it. Between all the shit he’s been going through since s1, and then with living 50 whole domestic years in an alternate reality, Q’s had to re-evaluate a LOT of the shit that used to keep him alive. He’s been so visibly sad and scared this season that it’s taken up the whole screen, yet an underlying current of season 4 so far has been that Q has become more settled. The way he talked to his dad at the end of s3. The way he talked to Poppy. The way he’s been dealing with the monster. Metaphorically ready to get an arm torn to shreds, but still with none of the franticness that characterized the way he dealt with niffin!Alice. So, I guess what I’m saying is that it’s high time for him to start to really appreciate his own special talent. But it’s a LOT to demand, of even this more emotionally mature version of him right now. And it sounds REALLY unfair at a time when a super power that fixes the universe would be so useful. Which knowing this show probably means it’s going to be one of the things demanded of him in one way or another.

So again, this is a mess of a post and I have no idea where I’m going with this, but I do love how the show staunchly refuses to ever let Q believe the easy thing - that his destiny is indeed, after all, having the ultimate mega power to spend on the uber cool questing for the rest of his improbable super hero days. Q is so drawn to it, especially when he can’t control what’s around him. Instead the show keeps forcing Q to go for what’s real, and Q is SO much better off for it.

[silverleavesofautumn]

Fate Swap: Team Tokyo

Daichi Shijima taking the role of Hibiki Kuze

             Our boy Daichi has become the Protagonist of this story. Good for him! Daichi is one of the characters who doesn’t change much in terms of backstory. He is still a third year student from Tokyo who gets involved in the crisis on his way home from entrance exams, where he meets his first two companions. He really hates fighting and wants nothing to do with demons or JP’s but when the extent of the crisis becomes clear to him, his loyalty to his new companions and his desire to help others force his hand. Daichi doesn’t catch the attention of JP’s by being a super impressive demon tamer (though he’s by no means a bad one), instead much like vanilla Hibiki, Daichi is surprisingly good at drawing people into his orbit. Daichi’s earnestness and loyalty make people very loyal to him in return, even if he still gets ribbed on even as the protagonist. He’s a bit lonelier in this incarnation as he doesn’t have a best friend Hibiki, so he’s even more eager to please. Daichi still thinks it stupid when everyone starts fighting, but instead of starting his own faction, he’s just very insistent on recruiting people to whatever route he takes.

Dr. Otome Yanagiya taking the role of Daichi Shijima

             The good doctor’s backstory has not changed to much either, with one notable exception. In this Fate Swap, Otome does not work for JP’s, instead she works at a Tokyo hospital. She has custody of Koharu, and there is some tension because she is working very long hours, so she isn’t home too often.  She was on her way home from a shift at the hospital when the crisis began. Her two new companions offered to get her back to her apartment where Koharu was. Despite their best efforts, they got dragged into the events of Day 1 and Otome began to grasp how bad the situation had become. She agrees to assist JP’s as long as they provide refuge for Koharu. Otome teases her companions, but she cares for them quite a bit and is often a voice of reason in the group. She helps Daichi gain his confidence and comes to care for him as something of a little brother. She is kidnapped much like vanilla Daichi helping out in Nagoya and is quite shook up after the experience, which makes her even more protective of her friends, particularly the ones younger than her. When the in-fighting reaches a fever pitch, Otome puts her foot down and forms her own faction, insisting that humanity is at its best when they reach out and understand each other, even people they maybe don’t agree with. She is the leader of the Neutrality faction.

             Keita Wakui takes the place of Io Nitta

                            Keita is a second year from Daichi’s high school, and the ace of the Boxing club. Keita remains very stand offish and aggressive, preferring to solve his problems with violence, which puts him at odds with Daichi and Otome. He is first introduce aggressively asking Daichi for directions, which quickly spirals when Daichi recognizes him as the “reformed” delinquent from his middle school days, and Keita starts threatening him, at which point Otome attempts to step in, and the crisis starts. While initially reluctant to stick with the two, he agrees to escort Otome back to her apartment, figuring if nothing else, walking around might let him scope the situation. After the events of day one he admits he feels like he “owes Daichi one”, and that he’s going to stick around since Daichi do-gooder nature makes him a trouble magnet, which means more fights. Much like vanilla Io, Keita’s parents both die as the crisis continues, causing him briefly double down on his aggressive and strength obsessed tendencies. Daichi and the others manage to reign him in for the most part, but it’s clear that his grief is taking a huge toll on him. Keita is chosen as the vessel for Lugh, and runs off. When Daichi catches up to him, Keita’s emotions boil over and he rages that he wants to beat Mizar with his own strength or it won’t matter. Daichi can convince Keita that they need his help, that it is his strength that is helping them as he’s the only one capable of hosting Lugh, and that even regardless of that, relying on others isn’t a weakness. Keita will go through with the ritual, (and survive), but will become more reserved for the following several scenes. At the route split Keita will surprise everyone by siding with Otome. If fought he will use the full power of Lugh, yelling that he intends to use all his strength in pursuit of his ideals. If sided with, Keita will admit that when Lugh was possessing him finally had all the strength and power he sought at his finger tips…and nothing was better. He still couldn’t bring back his parents, he couldn’t beat Mizar, or heal the black scar. Power was only worthwhile if there was purpose in it. Keita decided to side with Otome because he believed hers was the best option, a world that didn’t rewrite peoples values, or value just the individual or the collective. He still was seeking strength but he realized to become strong you first had to allow people to be weak, and even selfish.

             Jungo Torii replaces Yuzuru “Joe” Akie

                            Fate Swapped Jungo is much the same as vanilla Jungo in terms of personality and even much of his backstory. Jungo remains a kind if absent minded chef’s apprentice in Tokyo. He is protective of his friends, and can be quite scary if something threatens them or innocent people/animals. Jungo is introduced running up to Otome, Daichi, and Keita, and unlike vanilla Joe, Jungo is strong enough to carry all three at once, dragging them over to the amphitheater before Keita manages to break his hold. After they defeat the demons tailing Jungo (who helps them fight, unlike Joe), Jungo joins their team, insisting they’re friends now. Jungo has no particular qualms about going to Nagoya, though he notes he lived there briefly as an orphan after his parents died. He said the orphanage was under funded, so they often didn’t have a lot to eat. He wasn’t there long before he was adopted by a couple, who then moved the family to Tokyo. He isn’t particularly fond of the city, but its there he meets his cat, Jungo, so he grows to like it more. Jungo chooses to side with the Equality faction, insisting even though he doesn’t want to fight his friends, a world where no one would suffer, where people would never have to be hungry, was worth fighting for.

Hinako Kujo replaces Makoto Sako

             Hinako is the daughter of head of the Kujo family in Osaka. She was raised to inherit the family and the Kujo style of dance, and was believed to be a true prodigy. She rebelled quite a bit against this, first not wanting to be a dancer at all, and later wanting to learn other styles causing friction within the family. She was on her way to a non-traditional dance lesson when she got hit by a car. The injury was not life threatening, and with sufficient physical therapy she was able to regain much of her grace and capabilities. Unfortunately, the accident and her dance lesson caused an apocalyptic argument with her family, and was a constant source of discord. The day she turned 18, Hinako moved out of her family’s home completely cutting ties with them. She happened to be scouted by JP’s in Tokyo as she threw herself (quite aggressively) in to various martial arts, searching for a physical activity to replace dancing with. She was offered a job with JP’s and she jumped at the opportunity, quickly becoming one of their best hand to hand combatants and catching the eye of the current leader. Hinako is still very cheerful, quick to tease or even flirt with her companions. In particular she is close with the branches lead scientist, and one of their best doctors, who are also both quite young. Hinako is the first member of JP’s Daichi and the others encounter, and she is the one who eventually convinces them to help out. In the route split Hinako choses to side with the meritocracy faction. Here it is reveal that Hinako is still incredibly bitter about what happened with her family, noting that people less talented than her had dictated her whole life before she joined JP’s. That she had bent and stretched, and made compromise after compromise, had tried to make her family happy but it was never enough for them. So she rejects the idea that to live is to serve others, which is how she initially perceives the equality faction. Despite this bitterness, she is still someone who ultimately believes in the good in people, leaving her conflicted over the course of the game and even when fought against.

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: Gods and Monsters

Okay, so my ultimate feeling about this one was that there was five, maybe ten minutes of worthwhile episode actually in there.  To be fair, a lot of it didn't feel like it was actively terrible to me, just kind of wheels-spinning pointless.

I think I've already talked about the mirror scene?  I have to admit it didn't have much of an impact since I'd already been spoiled for it.  It was done well, there just wasn't a whole lot to it.  Though I did get a certain amount of amusement out of wondering if Michael was regularly playing dress up with Dean in fancy clothes to lure in monsters for his experiments (a whole grave pit full!).  Which made me wonder about how many monsters we've seen recognize the Winchesters on sight and if that had happened. Watching that would have been a lot more entertaining for me than most of this episode.  

Why be the hunted when you can be the hunter?  Why write original dialogue when you can just throw out bad clichés!  Again, while I can appreciate Jensen's acting, I just am not compelled by this whole super monsters storyline.  Not least because I suspect that it's Dabb and co.'s way of getting what they wanted to do with Wayward - throw out all the rules so they could just lazily make shit up as they go along.  Not to mention it's so blatantly cribbed off the Eve plot.  Maybe they’re thinking Michael will seem more ominous if they rarely show him, like the shark in Jaws, but it’s just leaving him pretty flat and generic as a villain.  I do think it's pretty funny the first thing Dean does after Michael skedaddles is take off the silly hat.  

I feel like I should have something to say about Sam hunting for Michael with AU!Bobby and Mary?  Except I don't, really.  What little of it there was didn't make much of an impact.  It felt like any other set of scenes where the brothers split up to investigate but AU!Bobby and Mary were … there, I guess.  The only real thought I had about it was that the “joke” of Bobby forgetting what DNA was exemplified what Mark Sheppard said about the writers trying to force humor in rather than letting it organically happen.  Though, hey, at least it got Nick off my screen for a little while here and there.

Speaking of which, I guess it’s time to talk about the majority of the episode, which could easily be titled Castiel’s Adventures as the Worst Babysitter Ever.  Yet it was even less entertaining than that sounds.

Have I mentioned lately how much I just absolutely do not give a single fuck about Nick or Lucifer or any further characters on SPN handed to Mark Pellegrino to artificially keep him around?  The whole attempt at a touchy-feely moment with him whining at Castiel is just fucking interminable and incredibly boring.  Vessels get amnesia about what happened before they were possessed now … so Pellegrino can ham his hammiest through another quote unquote storyline.  Yay.  The thing is, I would maybe be interested in the idea of exploring how long-term possession affects a vessel after the fact in terms of mental state/memory/whatever … if it was literally any other character. The whole, “Nick magically doesn't know his family's dead, on noes! Nick randomly killed a guy, oh noes!”  Holy crap, I don't care.  I don't have anything personal against Pellegrino or anything negative to say about his talent as an actor, but at this point I would automatically opt out of literally anything he's in I am so sick of his face.

I tuned out through most of it (hey, at least this sweater's getting closer to done).  The only part that really even seems worthy of comment is how having Nick call Castiel out on his using Jimmy Novak becomes just another excuse for the writers to try to retcon sympathy into Castiel's past acts.  I don't think we need to harp, however many seasons later, on Castiel screwing the Novak family.  If we are going to bring it up, though?  Let's not keep playing this game where we try to turn it into a pity party for poor woobie Castiel.  This is just like what they did with Mary's deal, they brought her back and made her stone cold to her sons just to get to a resolution justifying a deal that was … perfectly understandable in the first place!  Likewise, I think most of us were clear that Castiel was a different creature in season four that didn't have the perspective to consider the consequences to Jimmy as a person.  Trying to go backwards, first with rewriting the rules of angelic possession to give him a special exception vessel (it’s okay I took Jimmy’s life away, he’s in heaven now!) and here playing it like, “Oh, look at my teary-eyed sad face!  Pity me, I'm just so very sad I ruined three human's lives!”  I mean, it’s canon that Claire was praying to him for literal years for help and he apparently just tuned it out until it was convenient to deal with her and hasn’t bothered with her since the Winchesters foisted her on Jody.  Poor Castiel!  Again, this is actively less sympathetic to me than if the writers had just left the whole thing untouched as understandable choices firmly in the past.

The absurdity of the conversations between Castiel and Nick is not helped by the idiocy of how of literally everyone there, Castiel is the one who should be least perturbed by an inability to separate Lucifer and Nick.  Come on, he's an angel himself, the idea that he's got some kind of human hangup about a clearly human Nick when we've seen angels recognize each other in different vessels is just absurd.  The same old bullshit the writers keep pulling now where Castiel is human-like when it's convenient and angel-like when it's convenient.  

I think Castiel's pep talks to Jack were at least a little better done, but that doesn't say much.  It also would have been more heartwarming for Castiel to go on about how Dean and Sam had to struggle and learn for years to get where they are if it wasn't plugged in by writers who think the best possible new characters are ones that become the most awesome hunters pretty much immediately with no indication any work or effort was involved.  If I wasn't so bitter about that and more actively invested in Castiel (whoever he is this week) and Jack (who I feel I barely know, still) I probably would have liked those scenes a lot more. 

Then again, considering the immediate mood whiplash at the end with Jack's turn from cuddly woobie to, “Hey, let's kill Dean”?  Maybe not.  No, I don't think Dean would want it any other way, but that's some impressively compelling proof you're a counterfeit Winchester, kid.

The actress playing the vampire Michael let escape did a pretty good job of making what Michael was doing sound scary and ominous.  Likewise, the couple playing Kelly's parents were convincingly warm and lovely people that made that whole scene more poignant than it might have otherwise been relying on the writing alone.  It was actually a pretty good mix of heartwarming and sad - but also with a palpable edge of uncomfortable deception, considering who Jack really was.  Calvert's performance was solid there, too, I just can't help but be annoyed that once again, Kelly seems like more of a 3D character now she's dead. 

I’m never going to care about Nick, but most of this?  If it had been side plots or individual scenes from other better episodes, I’d have no objection.  As an episode itself, though, it just feels like a bunch of minor asides put together to kill the available time, which is a baffling choice in a season that will have three less episodes.

[vldrarepairs]

You Never Know Who’s Calling

Happy super late birthday @panda013!! I’m sorry it took a while to get to you, but I hope you enjoy it! You’re absolutely wonderful and so talented, and I’m so very blessed to have you in my life. :)

When the phone rang at 4 AM, Lance was tempted to ignore it. He had an early shift, and he didn’t recognize the number, but after years of his mother telling him to always answer his phone because “you just never know who it might be,” he simply couldn’t.

“Hello?” he slurred out, rubbing his eyes.

“I think I found something.” The voice on the other end answered immediately, tone clipped and rapid.

“Wh-”

The caller immediately cut him off, “I can’t get a good angle, but I think I found some footage. It looks like him, and it’s the right height, but every time it gets close to showing his face, the video cuts out or pixelates. I need your help trying to find more.”

“It’s like… 4 in the morning,” he slowly answered, unsure of what else to say, because none of this was making any sense.

“I thought you were working tonight.” A quick tapping sound filled the background of the call, almost too fast for Lance to recognize it as typing on a keyboard. “I know I’m asking a lot, but your work equipment is way better than what I’m working with, and this could be a lead. We need to find him, Shiro. Especially after what you told me.”

“Listen, I’d love to help you out, but-”

“Mom’s not doing well.” The voice was calm, but something about it set Lance on edge. “She keeps crying, and last night she was yelling for Matt in her sleep. I’m trying, but I don’t know what to do. I really need your help. I know it’s still a new job and you don’t want to get in trouble, but it’s my family, and I need to find them.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his heart breaking for this unknown caller.

He could hear the other person take a deep breath before continuing, “If you’re really sorry, then meet me at Cafe Altea. We can talk more there.”

“But, I-”

The call ended before Lance could explain the situation, and honestly he felt a little guilty for all this person was going through. He had no idea who Shiro or Matt were, but that didn’t matter. Not when this person had lost their family and needed someone to care about them. He might not be able to help with tracking down a video, but he could at least buy the person a coffee and offer a sympathetic ear.

After a quick search for the address, he slipped out of bed and stretched. He wouldn’t have time for his usual morning routine, but considering how little sleep he’d gotten, his skin was going to be terrible today anyway, so he wasn’t too concerned. Hunk’s light was still on when Lance stepped outside, which probably meant he’d fallen asleep mid-project again. Exam season was really taking a toll on him.

Lance scribbled a note letting Hunk know he was out, just in case he got worried when Lance was missing in the morning, then he headed out.

 Luckily, the cafe was close enough that Lance could ignore the low fuel light that flickered to life as soon as he started the engine. At least he managed a fantastic parking spot. One of the perks of showing up so early, he guessed.

The cafe was almost as empty as the parking lot, which was probably a good thing, since he had no idea who he was meeting. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn jacket and slowly approached the only only occupied booth.

“Hey, um… Did you call someone named Shiro earlier?”

The booth’s occupant jumped and turned to look at him. “Who are you?” The question was sharp, and Lance almost flinched at the tone.

“I’m the person you called. I tried to tell you it was a wrong number, but…” He trailed off and shrugged. “You sounded like you could use some help.”

“You came out at 4 in the morning to help a stranger?”

He slid into the booth with a hesitant smile. “Yeah. I guess so.” He held out a hand. “I’m Lance.”

The mystery caller eyed him, then his hand, clearly considering whether or not it was better to simply leave. “Katie,” she finally answered, slipping her hand in his and shaking it. “Do you know anything about computers?”

“I took a computer science course a couple years ago.”

She frowned and slipped off her glasses to rub her eyes. Without the lenses to hide them, he could see the shadows under her eyes showing just how little sleep she’d gotten lately. “Okay, that’s gonna have to be good enough. I can’t look at this screen anymore.”

He frowned. “You look like you could use some sleep.”

“I could use some coffee.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was because he’d come here with the assumption that she desperately needed a friend, but Lance wanted to take care of her. He could feel a protective instinct welling up inside him, urging him to do what he could to make something go right for her tonight. “What if I worked on stuff while you just closed your eyes for a little bit?”

She chewed at her lip and stared down at her laptop, eyes scanning the screen for a moment before she sighed and nodded. She tapped a few keys and finally slid it over to him. “Here. You’re on a guest account, but the video’s on there.” Her eyes narrowed, and she pointed a warning finger in his direction. “If you steal anything, I’ll track you down.”

He held up his hands. “Hey, whoa, I’m just here to help.”

She made a face. “Fine. Don’t let me fall asleep, okay? I’m just closing my eyes.”

“Sure,” he said with absolutely no intention of following through.

She leaned back in the booth and laid her glasses down on the table before closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. He waited until she was asleep before he slipped off his jacket and draped it over her front.

Unfortunately for Lance, he had no idea what he was doing or how he could do anything that might even resemble helping her. A few quick internet searches didn’t yield much for him to work with. She clearly needed the sleep, so he didn’t want to wake her up and ask, but every page he found that might be even slightly helpful turned out to be way over his head.

“Man, Hunk would be way better at this,” he mumbled, idly clicking on another link that looked a bit too advanced for him.

“Who’s Hunk?”

Lance jumped at the sound of Katie’s voice and looked up at her. “Oh, um… My roommate. He’s getting his Master’s in Electrical Engineering, and he’s a genius with computers.”

She brightened, Lance’s jacket sliding off her shoulders as she sat up. “Why didn’t you say so? He sounds perfect.”

“Yeah, but he has huge test today.” Lance slid to the edge of the booth. “I can ask him after, though. What kind of coffee do you like?”

She retrieved her laptop from his side. “Fine. And anything that’s not decaf.” She tossed Lance’s jacket at his chest. “You know, I told you not to let me fall asleep. Did you even find anything?”

He winced. “Yeah, I know. I tried, but I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Clearly,” she snorted, navigating around to find that he’d really done nothing more than browse for answers.

He shrugged. “Yeah, sorry.” Of course he knew that he hadn’t been helpful, but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear her agree with him. So much for doing a good deed. He stood to at least go and buy her coffee, but she grabbed his arm before he could walk away.

“Wait, that was rude,” she said, soft and a bit ragged. “Thanks for trying.”

He grinned. Just that simple concession was enough to make the headache from too little sleep and too much jargon all worthwhile. “Sure. Anytime.”

He bought two drinks, one as caffeinated as he could get, the other as sweet as he could tolerate, and he barely managed to stop himself from flirting with the cute barista before returning to the table. Maybe he could come back later and slip her his number.

“They should be out in a minute.” Lance dropped back into his seat across from Katie. “So, how can I help?”

“No offense, but you probably can’t.” She didn’t even look up from the screen when she answered him, her focus once again fully on the task in front of her.

“Okay.” He pulled his phone out from his pocket and checked the time. “My shift starts in an hour, and I work close by. I’ll just stay here until I have to leave.”

She paused and looked up at him. “Why?”

“Well…” he pulled up his messages to see that Hunk had texted him to ask why on Earth he’d left for coffee at such an early hour and tapped out a reply while he spoke, “You could probably use the company, right?”

She didn’t say anything, and he took that to mean he was right. They spent the next forty-five minutes in relative silence, only broken when the barista called his name to let him know their drinks were ready. Katie kept up a relentless pace on her keyboard, pausing only long enough to drain the entire cup of coffee in one go.

He raised a brow, but he didn’t comment. After all, she looked like she needed the caffeine boost. By the time he had to leave, she was almost completely unaware of her surroundings.

“Hey, I’ll call you when I’m off work. Hunk should be free by then. Maybe he can help you out.” Lance tugged on his jacket as he stood to go. “See you later.”

She shot him a curious look, then nodded before returning to her work. “Bye, Lance.”

[starposition]

Birth Chart

This birth chart report shows the positions of the planets for Li . The Sun represents vitality, a sense of individuality and outward-shining creative energy. Sun in Virgo It is rare to find the stereotypical nitpicky, exacting, "clean freak" in modern-day Virgos. Although the sign of Virgo has evolved with the times, there are some unmistakable traits that remain. Virgo people are generally respectable, hard-working individuals who have a love of knowledge and know-how. Virgo's symbol, the Virgin, shows itself in the lives of Virgos through a love of all that is "natural" and a certain purity of spirit that keeps Virgos self-sufficient and self-contained, at least on the surface. Virgos are sensitive to their surroundings, and they tend to embarrass easily. They are generally reticent when faced with anything or anyone new. However, once they feel comfortable, they can talk up a storm. Many Virgo Suns are not too comfortable in the limelight. These types are just fine living in the background, as long as they feel useful and appreciated. Solar Virgos have a strong sense of responsibility. Even when they've convinced themselves to be irresponsible about something or the other, they worry about it. Not all Virgos are workaholics. However, when Solar Virgos are not involved in some kind of project, there is generally a vague feeling of discontent. Even when their lives are filled up with work, they are restless and somewhat nervous creatures. The fear of under-performing is often strong. Virgos want to do things well. Some are exacting and thorough, and those Virgos who have convinced themselves to do a less-than-perfect job will generally feel incomplete. There's an odd combination of the intellectual and the practical in Virgo that is sometimes mistaken for coolness. In fact, Virgos are often self-effacing and shy. They'll brush off your compliments quickly and, sometimes, critically; but don't let that fool you. They need your respect and appreciation. In fact, the happiest Virgos are the ones who feel appreciated and useful. Add plenty of worthwhile projects to keep them busy, and Virgos can be some of the sweetest, kindest people around. Keywords: analytical, intelligent, reserved, critical, helpful, conscientious. Virgo ascendant Cancer Sun in III You need activity and a change of scenery often, or you feel restless. You take pride in your mental agility and your friendships. You are able to adapt quite easily to whatever environment you're in. There is a strong need to communicate your knowledge to others and to learn. Your curiosity is endless. Take pride in your intellectual or communicative abilities without feeling the need to lord it over others or to always be "in the know". You have a solid grasp of facts. You have a strong influence on your peers. -212 Opposition Sun - Jupiter Although your intentions are generally good, you are given to overdoing things. You can easily gloss over realistic details and get yourself into debt, overindulge in pleasures such as food and drink, and promise more than you can deliver. For the most part, you find help for your excesses. Somebody's there to bail you out, as plenty of people believe that your heart is in the right place. Generally, this is the case, but if excessive behavior becomes a pattern, and you continually face light consequences, there is the danger that you will not learn from your mistakes and abuse the "system", relying on your friends and family to help you out a little too often. Your reputation for being "good people", thus, can eventually be used to further your purposes--something that should, of course, be avoided. However, many people with this aspect don't fall into the trap of losing their sincerity. You are generous, helpful, and charitable. Still, the tendency to live beyond your means is a real threat that you might struggle with much of your life. Another thing to watch for is depression. You tend to go through periods of intense highs when you are excessively optimistic. These periods are so marked that they seem to be unnatural and a fall seems to be inevitable. You can make promises you intend to keep, but have a problem with follow-through. Self-control can be a real problem. Try to avoid gambling altogether. Usually quite knowledgeable and generous with your time, you have many talents that you might take for granted. 77 Sextile Sun - Ascendant It is easy and natural for you to be received well by others. There is a distinct air of authority and magnanimity surrounding you. The authority you project generally doesn't offend others, generally because sincerity is sensed at the same time. Most people would describe you as natural, easy to like, and friendly. You may have a marked interest in the performing arts and/or sports and games, both as a spectator and participant. This is an especially favorable aspect to have for those who are in the public eye. The Moon represents the emotional responses, unconscious pre-destination, and the self-image. Moon in Taurus Familiarity is important to Lunar Taureans. These people are earthy and strong-willed. They feel with their senses and they are pretty much rooted in their ways. They revel in material comforts--in fact, building a solid and comfortable home and foundation helps to keep them feeling safe and content. It isn't wise to try to push Lunar Taureans into doing anything, but once they have made a commitment, they're persevering. There's a steadiness to this position of the Moon that is comforting to those close to them. But the conservative streak in these natives can be maddening to more progressive personalities. They tend to go out of their way to avoid "messy" or unpredictable situations, crises, and emotional displays. Instead, they focus on creating a reliable and secure life around them. In relationships, Lunar Taureans may not easily recognize their partner's need for change, growth, or emotional stimulation. Moon in Taurus natives are generally very romantic. Their affections are strong, deep, and unwavering. They are sentimental and warm. Since Taurus is a practical earth sign, the placement of the Moon in this sign suggests an ability to protect themselves and their own interests. They will rarely make a move without first determining that it is safe and that there's something in it for them. Generally, Taurus Moon people have reliable instincts. They are very much tied to the physical world, and they often have a particularly well-developed sense of smell. Relationships with people born with this position of Mars are often quite enduring. Many Mars in Taurus people hang onto their mates, even in the face of serious conflict. Taurus is a fixed sign, so break-ups don't happen easily. There is a serenity to them that is calming. In fact, it takes a lot to really get to them. However, they do get off-center every once in a while. They are not the most adaptable people when their own routine is interrupted, for example. Though some Lunar Taureans might be considered anal, most simply have a stubborn streak that keeps them rather resistant to change. Rarely are they spontaneous sorts. Uncomfortable with surprises, these natives value stability. Their needs are strong but quite simple at the same time--they love the "good things" in life. The world of the five senses is all-important to these natives. Their love of stability and steadiness can make them slaves to routine. However, they are loyal and capable people. Short description: Sweetness itself. Convinced of their ideas and strong-willed. He is foresighted and willful. He knows how to trust. He appreciates all the good things in life. He appreciates and protects Nature. Weaknesses: excesses in pleasure, laziness, sensuality, thoughtlessness. Moon in XI Lots of friends, relationships. He makes friends easily and uses his relationships to further professional success. Feelings of friendship are sometimes superficial. Often, lots of children. This position of the Moon indicates an emotional need for a feeling of belonging with, and support from, friends and associations with groups. You look to acquaintances for support, and offer the same in return. A changeable or unstable social life might be a reflection of inner emotional unrest. Waxing and waning feelings for others can cause problems in your relationships. You are a person who is filled with many dreams, wishes, and hopes for your future, and most of these are altruistic and good-hearted desires. However, you might change your aspirations frequently, with your changing moods, and have a hard time settling on goals to work towards as a result. 370 Sextile Moon - Jupiter He is generally pleasantly composed, due to an inner sense of harmony and emotional balance. He is optimistic--and realistically so, most of the time--which contributes to his overall "luck". He is able to get a real perspective on emotional matters that not only benefits his outlook, he is able to offer support to others when needed. Broad-mindedness is a wonderful characteristic. Quick to find humor in situations, he is generally warm and fun to be around. Deep down, he believes in the basic goodness of people and of life in general, and this basic and natural attitude helps him to attract positive circumstances and to make good connections. One of his best qualities is tolerance. Usually, he doesn't take life too seriously in the sense that he believes in having a bit of fun. His hunches are more often than not bang-on. He is frank, honest, optimistic and generous. He likes good cooking, his comforts. His friendships are sincere. He is a worker and knows how to surround himself with the right people: He is appreciated at work. 28 Trine Moon - Neptune Positive aspect: He is kind and sympathetic, with a strongly compassionate nature. When in love, he is usually very devoted. In fact, he is devoted by nature, not only in matters of the heart. There is an unmistakably compassionate and understanding side to his nature. He has a natural affinity to music. While everyone enjoys music, people with Moon in harmonious aspect to Neptune respond to music as a vehicle to heal, relax, and to uplift the soul. Naturally perceptive, without even trying he tunes into the feelings of others, and the mood of his surroundings. There is a distinct emotional need to escape into the world of imagination, and to withdraw from others at times when he needs to re-center himself, largely because he tends to "take in" a lot of mixed energies from his surroundings. Strong and sudden "feelings" and hunches can overcome him. More often than not, his intuition is correct, although his imagination is also powerful and he can read too much into a situation as a result. Some laziness is associated with this position. This stems from a natural timidity and sensitivity that is apparent from youth. He may have been labeled "shy" in youth, and family members or friends may have jumped in to "save" him from situations that required boldness or aggressiveness. Thus, passivity was accepted and, as adults, he may be less experienced than most when it comes to reaching out or going after what he wants. -3 Opposition Moon - Pluto He has intense emotions and passionate feelings. He fears the loss of control of emotional and domestic matters, and fears change. At the same time, he attracts change and disruptions. The love life or marital life may be riddled with emotional scenes, jealousy, and possessiveness because he attracts intense partners. 97 Sextile Moon - Ascendant He has a good influence on the family, which loves and helps the person. He likes travelling, movement, change. He likes contact and is open to other people. Mercury represents communication, Cartesian and logical spirit. Mercury in Virgo He discusses, deduces and judges. He reasons logically and accurately. He spends a lot of time on practical matters and keeping things in order. Sometimes nitpicky and nervous, secretly feeling he handles matters better than others. Mercury in II Intelligence geared towards ways of making money, becoming rich. All methods are good, sometimes he is on the borderline of honesty. You have a very practical mind and intelligence, seeing the obvious, most logical answer to any predicament often before others. You don't like to be put on the spot or pushed into talking or coming to a conclusion. Studies are similar--you need to work at your own steady pace. You can be quite one-track minded at times, not very happy with multi-tasking, and often quite fixed in your opinions. Sensual stimuli is more relevant to you than abstract concepts. 447 Conjunction Mercury - Venus He looks on the bright side of life: he is gay, agreeable, optimistic, sociable. He likes to speak and write, and does both with charm and artistry. His intellectual pleasures are influenced by his feelings. He is amorous and sensual. He likes beauty, the Arts but also travelling. 84 Trine Mercury - Saturn He is or strives to be mentally organized. He is able to study, concentrate, and focus, and often has the patience to work towards a goal slowly but surely. He takes time to get communications "just so" and tends to prefer step by step directions. Respects tradition and rules. -132 Square Mercury - Pluto He may be impatient. He likes contradiction. His arguments are noisy and animated. You are very incisive and aggressive with your opinions. You have a tendency towards fanaticism and often want to impose your ideas on others, sometimes in a subtle manner and sometimes more imperatively. You will find yourself attracted by the occult and other mysteries but it is recommended that you avoid those subjects because they can generate certain fixations or obsessiveness. You must learn to control your impatience and impulsiveness, to think things over before speaking, and to respect the weaknesses of others. 20 Sextile Mercury - Lilith Venus represents an interest for emotions and values, exchange and sharing with others. Venus in Virgo Venus in Virgo people are not the flirtatious sort. Instead, their appeal lies in their dedication, their willingness to work on the relationship, and to make the relationship work in real terms. Unlike Venus in Leo, they won't try to impress you with grand gifts or promises. Their gifts are less showy, but perhaps far more generous -- gifts of devotion and attention to details about you. Venus in Virgo men and women quietly (and often slowly) make their way into your heart. They are quite sensitive in love -- even insecure -- and this reserved, loner-like quality is part of their appeal. They prefer to play it safe in their relationships, and they need to be confident that you like them before they make a move. They are great listeners and they make it a habit to observe and learn all of your ins and outs. Their love can be of the Kindergarten variety -- they show they care by nagging or criticizing. Remember, though, that they are not trying to hurt you when they are pointing out the flaws in your thinking, plans, or even character. They truly are trying to help! Venus in Virgo is attracted to nondescript people who have largely gone unnoticed. Show-offs and know-it-alls turn them off. Pleasing Venus in Virgo involves showing you appreciate them for all the little things they do -- and they do a lot. The problem is, they do these things so quietly that you may not always notice or credit them for all these kind gestures. They do need some space (after all, they're generally quite busy making everything work), so give it to them. Be genuine, not ostentatious. They are really not difficult to please after you have taken care of these basic needs. Avoid pushing your friends or family on them too fast -- remember they are a little shy. They aim to please, and are easily intimidated by your experiences. Let them know how much you value them, and they will reward you with devotion and a charming willingness to talk things out. Short description: He is very devoted, does not show emotions: he and doesn't always let himself go, either through fear of ridicule or through fear of not being loved in return as much as he loves. He is therefore sometimes too undemonstrative. May give off the sense that his love is not for free. Caring but worries that he is not exciting enough. Careful with money. Venus in II There is a link between emotional life and money. He is helped by friends or by a person to whom he is emotionally linked. May take advantage of friendships for professional success. Activities connected with beauty, aesthetics, finery. Danger: big spending. Tangible expressions of love and affection are important to you. Your tastes are usually "simply extravagant", well-defined, strong, and something you are proud of. Some might feel you have a talent for finding items of value and good taste. You are attracted to items of quality. You may use generosity for your own benefit--in other words, you might give gifts with expectation of reward. Some of you might be hedonistic and overly attached to winning admiration from a partner, at the expense of discovering true love. Your neck and upper chest are erogenous zones, and your voice is unusually attractive. You generally don't jump into a new relationship. If you do, your feelings grow gradually. A partner who makes you feel safe and secure is ideal for you. Once committed, your love is long lasting and sincere. You have strong values and others will find it hard to sway you in this area. Sensual, the world of touch and smell is most appealing to you. Complex or mysterious partners are not as intriguing to you as simple and genuine ones. 26 Trine Venus - Saturn He has a good grasp of reality and of duty. He is thrifty, reserved and does not show off. He likes truth and justice. In love, his sentiments are sincere and deep, he never plays false. He is, of course, faithful in love and friendship. He can love a much older person and appreciates his intelligence and good sense. -39 Square Venus - Pluto In an attempt to control the outcome of a love relationship, or the loved one's feelings, you can turn to manipulative games. Even if you do "succeed" at it, there is never a feeling that you've won someone over for who you are, and this feeds a vicious cycle that you should try to avoid getting yourself into. Your feelings are intense, and even extreme, when it comes to love. You might attract intense relationships that have love-hate themes as a result. You are passionate when you love, definitely, but also passionate when you hate. You easily put pressure on your partner, as you expect much loyalty and honesty in your intimate relationships. Be careful not to let your relationships get to a point where your partner is superfluous and you are working through your own inner demons through him or her. Certainly, you will learn much about yourself through your relationships, and you may not always like what you see. You will meet yourself (the "darker" side or inner demons) through your relationships, and it will be critical that you recognize it as your own "material" and not project it onto your partner. Letting go of a relationship can be hard for you to do, especially if Venus is in a fixed sign (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, or Aquarius).

[poorquentyn]

Considering Spielberg is your (second?) favorite director, do you have any kind of ranking of his filmography? (If so, I hope you give Empire of the Sun the high marks it deserves. It's the quintessential Spielberg film! A boy's own adventure story that gets eaten alive by a war drama!)

*rubs hands together*

Ok, so, only ones where he was in the director’s chair; none of even those producer’s credits where you can feel his indelible stamp on the final product, so no Goonies, Gremlins, Poltergeist, or Back to the Future. Even then, I’m leaving out a lot, so honorable mention to Lincoln, Schindler’s List, Saving Private Ryan, Catch Me if You Can, War of the Worlds, The Color Purple, Bridge of Spies, the two worthwhile Indy sequels…

10. Jurassic Park

Start with the gaze upon himself: Jurassic Park as a $63 million self-portrait released on the exact tipping point of his career. John Hammond and Steven Spielberg’s miracles are one and the same: one brings dinosaurs back, the other convinces us they’re real. One uses DNA, the other uses CGI. When the characters stare in wonder, they’re meant to mirror our own at the imagery; when Jeff Goldblum mutters “that crazy son of a bitch actually did it,” he’s speaking for an entire industry once again forced to up its game by a Spielberg Miracle.

Our protagonist, however, is shitty with computers, so Alan Grant terrifies a child the old fashioned Jaws way: with a prop (a raptor claw) and his imagination. Hammond whisks him away from that to a world where one can press a button and make yourself appear on screen, mirroring how Spielberg has done the same with Hammond as his craft has evolved from malfunctioning sharks to CG velociraptors. The heart of the film comes when this giddy wonder in the possibilities of “we have the technology” is soured and our author avatar is left disillusioned and afraid, eating ice cream in a room full of merch he’ll never sell (but Spielberg will), telling Laura Dern about how he started off with a flea circus. That, right there, is a metaphor for moviemaking, and specifically Spielberg’s brand of it: pulling invisible strings to make us think that impossible things are real, to make belief believable.

Above all, Jurassic Park is afraid for the kids. Another perfect metaphor for the meta-tastic whole comes when the T-Rex crashes down through the car roof, only glass separating him from devouring the children; their hands are desperately keeping the monster behind the rectangular transparent plane, on the screen, even as Spielberg/Hammond’s tech is so real it threatens to burst right through. “He left us!” one kid wails about the character representing the studio weasels. “But that’s not what I’m gonna do,” Alan Grant whispers, half in shadow, blue eyes ablaze with a promise he didn’t know he was going to make. He can’t keep it. There are monsters in the kitchen. Spielberg’s next movie, released only a handful of months later, is Schindler’s List.

9. Duel

Such a seam scratches the tape; rewind, start again. Where did this begin? On TV, in the backseat of a car, backing out of the garage. Duel is the world’s most accomplished demo reel, cinema stripped down to its bare minimum to let the director’s preposterous surplus of talent shine through. It’s about a man (named Mann, both appropriate and touchingly pretentious) who pisses off a truck driver we never see, who then chases our protagonist with lethal intent, and that’s it.

And that’s all Spielberg needs. What follows is the future, a steel-shod gauntlet of precise camera angles and insidious sound design that builds the bridge between the B-movie and the blockbuster. By the end you feel spent but sated, as if every possible creative drop has been wrung out of the slim scenario. It’s nothing more nor less than the finest Roadrunner & Coyote episode imaginable, to the extent that George Miller was clearly reaching back to it for inspiration again and again in Fury Road. Indeed, while Duel is set in the modern day, Spielberg needs no trickery to make the antagonistic truck look positively apocalyptic.

It’s such a vivid example of the medium’s unique possibilities that you have to stop to remember that it was made for TV. And then you stop to think that he was only 24, same age Welles was when he made Citizen Kane. Lofty comparison, I know, but Duel proves it’s not what your movie is about, but how it’s about it that counts. Spielberg made it look easy, and so everyone followed. The road goes ever on and on…

8. Munich

…until it doesn’t. No exit.

Munich is the culmination of Spielberg’s Blue Period, his great here-comes-another-bloody-century trepidation, punctured by Stanley Kubrick’s death and 9/11. The former gave birth to A.I. Artificial Intelligence, and the movies about closing doorways and agonized faces that followed. The latter palpably haunted Spielberg’s projects in its wake: even Minority Report, a script written years earlier and adapted from a decades-old story, was uncannily timely in its portrait of overreaching security and law enforcement built to placate (and control) a population reeling from loss. Then came the director’s outright Twin Towers Trilogy: The Terminal, War of the Worlds, and Munich, addressing the event from different angles and through different filters. Of course, the intriguing and emotional setup in The Terminal’s opening minutes, framing post-9/11 bureaucracy as fluid chaos eating away at the state from within, quickly gives way to disappointing inanity. And while I maintain that War of the Worlds is absolutely perfect as an on-the-ground recreation of 9/11 as an alien attack for the first 50-60%, things go downhill fast once Tim Robbins shuffles onscreen.

Munich is the one that actually has the courage of its convictions, in large part because it’s about the director and protagonist alike breaking down in tears and admitting they don’t know what to believe anymore. Every set piece unfolds with a quiet chill and ends with you contemplating mortality. It’s a deliberately non-thrilling thriller. The ideology dissolves, not in neat bromides but in the day-to-day realities of ending human beings. Revenge fills you with fire, hot and bright, and then turns sour in your mouth. Narrative strands cross and recross, and the film’s inciting event, murder before the world’s watching eyes, sinks into that abyss known as Context.

By the end, you don’t even know what you’re fighting for anymore but your family, and you’re haunted by the knowledge that your kids will be fighting the same damn fight. The last thing to be corrupted, then, is the dinner table. Our protagonist begs to break bread with his handler, and the final word of the Blue Period is “no.” The camera tilts over to the Twin Towers, their loss contextualized as just another curl of a horrorshow helix, and the exorcism is complete. The anger and grief has largely vanished from Spielberg’s work since, as he’s settled into a comfortable John Ford mode. He left his questions here, unanswered.

7. Minority Report

If A.I. was Spielberg’s 2001, a millennia-spanning epitaph for humanity and a glimpse of what we leave behind, Minority Report (following the Kubrick trajectory) would be his Clockwork Orange, stepping down from the stars to gaze with cold horror on the things we do to one another with power. In the future, three young seers see crimes before they happen, enabling the state to lock people away for crimes they haven’t committed in the name of wiping out crime for good. Indeed, this fleet fluid fever dream makes explicit visual reference to Clockwork’s Ludovico scene (see above). In Spielberg’s memory machine, though, the image of an eye forcibly kept open by metal claws takes on a meaning beyond social and political analysis, though those are certainly still in there. It’s something more spiritual: Minority Report is about divine sight in a postmodern age.

Our protagonist’s rival went to seminary, his own men tell him they’re more priests than cops, but Tom Cruise’s John Anderton can’t bring himself to recognize the Spielberg Miracle at work here. The larger moral revelation of the “precogs,” the framing of their ability to see crimes before they happen as a techno-noir version of Biblical prophecy, is lost on Anderton because it can’t bring his son back. For him, that the future is known points to the futility of human existence. If there’s no free will, if we’re all doomed to perpetually fall in a fallen world, what’s the point?

And then one of the precogs asks him: “Do you see?” So begins the murder mystery that will see him accused of a future murder, that of the man who ostensibly killed his son. Anderton chooses mercy, only for the man to grab and pull the trigger because it’s all a setup to prevent Anderton from learning the truth about the precogs: they, too, are children stolen from their parents, all our characters trapped in a Möbius strip of loss they can only watch unfold, again and again, as if on the film’s countless screens. The images have been manipulated to hide the truth, the divine vision sullied by contact with the greedy exploitative systems of the Blue Period. But our detective finds the truth, and an existential triumph in making the right choice even if he can’t change the outcome. I’ve always taken the happy ending, a startling glimpse of green after a movie of blues and grays that look etched in stone, as just another vision. Closure is there, your family is there, in the future, in the past, just out of reach, smiling back at you. It hurts to look, but even as your eyes are torn out and replaced, you can’t look away.

6. Raiders of the Lost Ark

Well now, see, this one’s a tad criticism-proof by design, being as it is smelted and shaped to get under your defenses. “Disarming” seems like a strange choice of defining adjective for this most white-knuckled of action/adventure movies, but for all the staggering moviemaking skill on display, Raiders is ultimately a puppy shoving its nose under your hand. Given the slightest opportunity, it will make you love it. Fun is its religion, so deeply felt and communicated is the generous desire to entertain, rooted in the pulp serials that first lit the fire in its makers’ bellies to create.

And that fire again burns hot and bright, which is Raiders’ other secret magic trick: underneath all the cleverness, the jokes within jokes and setpieces spilling into ever more elaborate ones, the sense that every single moment was designed to make the rest of the genre look paltry and stingy by comparison, what happens at the end is nothing less than the very specifically Old Testament God stepping in to fry Nazis’ faces off. It’s the Ghostbusters trick of grounding helium-high hijinks in metaphysical forces that are not in any way kidding around. Our action hero, at the climax of the movie, is simply the one who (in an inverse of Minority Report) is smart enough to look away. So many Spielberg movies boil down to a shaft of divine light, and sometimes the light burns.

Then came the bizarre, hallucinogenic Temple of Doom and the sturdy, winning Last Crusade and that fourth one we don’t talk about, but they’re all in some way reactions to the nigh-flawless original. All you can do is go back, wearing the leather deep, Indy ageless, his eyes blazing shut against the light.

5. Empire of the Sun

Equally criticism-proof, but for the exact opposite reasons. This is the one no one can quite explain. Spielberg isn’t telling; he might not have any more idea than the rest of us. It shares certain themes with the rest of his work, especially regarding how children process the collapse and change of their world, but the similarities are strictly on paper. It feels different. I don’t what it…is. What it’s for. What it means. These sound like bad things, but they’re not. Empire of the Sun is utterly arresting, every bit as much as those canonized Spielberg classics of which anyone can explain the appeal. It’s just that it unfolds like a dream, and I’m left grasping after it in the same way. It might be one of the more accurate adaptations put to film in only that it feels so much more novelistic in its thrust and tone than most.

What can be pinned down is a series of images and sounds about the fall and occupation of Shanghai by Japan in WWII, told from the perspective of the naive sheltered son of a British emissary. Our hero is played by Christian Bale, in what might be my favorite child performance. To the extent that Empire of the Sun is about anything beyond the experience of watching it, it’s about his breakdown, and that’s what grounds the dreamlike style: we’re watching a bubble burst. Death and decay unfold out of the corner of his eye, like a memory he can’t quite bear to fully recall. His childhood vanishes when he shrieks surrender at anyone who will listen, trusting the rules to snap back into place and the world to make sense again, only for the collapse to continue unabated.

It’s made out of smoke and corners and quiet sadnesses. It’s runny, like an egg. I dream about it sometimes. You should watch it if you haven’t.

4. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial

*harrumphs, wipes eyes* so um uh my name is Emmett, you see, and it begins with a….an ends with a….shut up.

That’s the point, though, of the movie: identification so strong that it almost kills you. E.T. is love, that’s all. All of it is here, from pure warm glow to heart stopping loss, swept up in imagery and sound that seem to positively hum with rich rueful feeling. Much has been made of how much of the movie is shot from a child’s POV, but everything about the movie operates on kid-logic. ET himself, for example: botanist or pet? Both. The connection he forges with Elliott swirls all such categories together. Elliott needs this, is yearning for love so badly, and even when it hurts, he’s more alive than he was before, with Dad gone.

But what makes E.T. different from, say, Star Wars and Harry Potter is that our hero only gets a taste of this other world, his fingertips brushing against magic as he passes it in the night. The gold-and-purple-brushed cinematography and the ecstatic, eternally swelling score sweep the profound and mundane together as one, bike rides and trick-or-treating and a psychic connection with an alien, yet the narrative eventually teases them apart like a sad parent forced to tell their kid that the dog is dead, and what “dead” means. ET returns to life, the definitive Spielberg Miracle…and then he leaves. Elliott will go home to his melancholy, frustrating life. School is still hard. His emotions still confuse him. Dad is still gone. The final shot of his face is not one of wonder, but maturation. It’s the moment Elliott grows up, and it’s the very definition of bittersweet.

What do you do, when you’ve loved and lost? You go home, you play with your toys, you send letters into Weird Things and Such SF Monthly, you make movies in your backyard, and you watch the skies….

….until they come back.

All of them.

3. Close Encounters of the Third Kind

I smiled just typing the words. I whispered them to myself, Close Encounters of the Third Kind. This movie is a lil shining red ball dancing in my eyes; it is glee given form, a rainbow-colored pony ridden by a Willy Wonka-suited Care Bear on twenty tabs of LSD. The last half-hour, all glowing light and warm noise, earns the cliche: it makes you feel like a kid again, in the best possible way. After a movie’s buildup of wonder and terror, the sight and sound of a colossal lit-up mothership cheerfully BWAMMing out a melody is so cathartic that it’s impossible to sit still.

As with Raiders, though, it’s worth digging into the movie’s layers to understand where that light is coming from, and what it costs you to look at it. Close Encounters is a movie about communication, of course, from the alien lights to the translator forever accompanying Francois Truffaut (a filmmaker who knows a thing or two about capturing kid-logic on screen). It’s a movie about the fragility of family life in the face of the unknown, hence that devastating scene around the dinner table: something’s wrong with Dad, a subject near and dear to the director’s heart.

But above all else, it’s a religious movie, the religious movie. It’s about rushing upwards, and leaving all else behind. Roy Neary sees a divine light in the sky, and can’t reconcile it with the life he was living. He obsessively recreates his vision in idols, chases it across the country, driving his wife and children away in favor of his fellow prophets: here are my mother and my brothers. And the sting in that gorgeous symphonic ending’s tail is that it’s so good that Roy sheds this mortal coil to join them in the heavens. Spielberg has said that if he made it now, he wouldn’t have let  Roy get on that ship. And when you look at E.T. or the movies he made from Schindler forward, it’s clear why: in joining the interstellar flock, the man-child left his family to the wolves. By the time Roy/Eliot came home, his skin had sagged, his hair had gone white, and his children were waiting for him with eyes that cut.

And what do their movies look like?

2. A.I. Artificial Intelligence

The ultimate deconstructed fairytale; a honeyvelvetacid-glazed gaze into a heart-shaped abyss; Kubrick a darkwinged angel looming over ET’s crib, brushing a final tear away from his metallic eye…

So does Steven Spielberg, our flesh and blood Peter Pan, grow old and tell the children he lied. The monster is inside the house, inside your head, and inside the stories. At the core is a child’s innocent love for his mother…programmed in him, by her, a debt she cannot and will not repay. “His love is real, but he is not.” Pinocchio but for robots, A.I. takes its sci-fi trappings as a launching pad for a guiding philosophical question: “if a robot could genuinely love a human, what responsibility would that person hold towards that mecha in return?” The boardroom exec who poses that question pauses, almost bashful to ask the next one in a room full of people who treat the abuse of robots like a joke or a PowerPoint presentation, and then proceeds: “it’s a moral question, isn’t it?”

It is indeed, and for David’s adoptive family, the answer is none. He is abandoned, and chases his Blue Fairy and his happy ending across the apocalypse. As his fellow robots are torn apart to the cheers of the crowd in front of him, as his entire environment upends his hardwired fairytale logic into a sleazy neon-and-smoke nightmare, as his companion Gigolo Joe warns him presciently that “they made us too smart, too quick, and too many…they hate us because they know that when they’re gone, all that will be left is us,” David keeps looking for the Blue Fairy to turn him into a real boy so Mommy will love him again. He has no choice. His brain literally will not let him do otherwise. There is no will to power here, no core he can call upon to upend his puppet masters’ plan and prove himself Human After All. All he has is love, and they’ve used it to enslave him: at journey’s end, he finds his maker, who reveals that everything post-abandonment was staged to test if his love held. It did, and as such that love is now a corporate-approved field-tested quality-assured Feature that can be passed onto the hungry customer. This is not a Hero’s Journey, because you are not a person. You are a thing, and this is a product launch. David sees a dozen faces like his, stretched on a rack and ready. There is a row of boxes. They have David’s silhouette on them. All of a sudden, one starts to rattle and shake…

In the face of this existential horror (“my brain is falling out”) David promptly chooses suicide, whispering “Mommy” as he jumps from the statue he saw in his first moments. Down in the void, he finds the Blue Fairy and prays to her for millennia, but she cannot answer his eternal plea. She is a statue. An image, nothing more. She crumbles into a thousand pieces in his arms. He finds his mother, too. She is a fake, a digital mirage. Future robots create a simulacrum of her, as David himself was a simulacrum to replace her comatose son, designed in the image of his creator’s dead son…and of course, he cannot tell the difference. He gets his happy ending, on the surface. Underneath, what’s actually happening is that he’s an orphan who will never grow up being shown a movie and told everything is going to be all right. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts…

…but it doesn’t matter how much he wants it, that is not his mother and his mother never loved him. We know these things even if he doesn’t. He claps because he believes in fairies, forever, eyes and smile frozen, waiting for them to appear, any second now. This is Spielberg showing you a brain on Spielberg. David followed Story over the waterfall’s edge, and now has only time’s vasty deep into which to shout “I love you” and convince himself the echoes are his make-believe savior and his long-dead mom. There is only the water that swallowed up Manhattan, and then the world, and him with it…

Wait.

There’s something in the water.

1. Jaws

To borrow from Alien, the closest thing it has to a peer: Jaws’ structural perfection is matched only by its hostility. You could just call it the perfect movie and walk away, except that if you try the floor tilts up beneath you and down you go into the mouth, the most abyssal maw in imagination’s history, and those black eyes roll over to white and you beg for more.

Run down the pedestals at the Movie Museum: Citizen Kane wants you to breathe in a life. Rashomon wants you to question how storytelling works and what Truth actually is, or if it exists at all. Jaws wants to eat you. Not the characters, you. That’s what Spielberg figured out how to do, and the entire industry reshaped itself around copying him: tonal immersion so absolute that he could make the audience feel anything he wanted, on a dime. Hitchcock played your spine like the devil on a fiddle; Spielberg is a rainbow-wigged mad scientist strapping you on a rocket to the sun. He created his own genre, and it’s the one that still dominates the medium in every corner of the globe. With a shark. A shark that, as a prop, did not fucking work.

Details? How do you pull one strand out of a web like this one? I can only say “perfect” so many times, but I mean it. Shot for shot, line by line, beat by beat. Every domino falls. The calm moments and the funny ones and the frantic blood-soaked ones, everything is earned. As with Raiders, the highest compliment I can pay is that other movies taste like shit for a month afterwards. When I hear the word “craftsmanship” I do not think of cars or cabinets, I think of Jaws. It feels hewn.

The numbers came later. The myth, the legend, the pale imitations, the bad sequels, the ripple effects, all secondary. What Jaws is, is sensation. It cannot have been made, surely, it hatched. It was never launched. It will never fall. Smile, you son of a–