#and you can tell he was going downhill when you read Dark Era

[dazais-guardian-angel]

it’s sad that a lot of people truly don’t realize how incredibly hard it is for Dazai to make the choice to do things the way he does now in his new lifestyle, every single day. Healing and changing your way of doing things to heal is incredibly hard; it is an active choice you are making at every moment, fighting uphill, because it doesn’t come naturally like it does for anyone who hasn’t been through trauma and/or is dealing with mental illness. It’s hard, and so many days it’d be easier to just give up and revert back to old habits. But Dazai almost never has, even when constantly surrounded by toxic influences that remind him of his old life, and he is so incredibly strong for that.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I've never met ANYONE who actually likes the Chibnall era. Would you seriously say that it's objectively good?

Brace yourself for unpopular (albeit positive) opinions.

Objectively? I don't know, I tend to feel like media is very much subjective and down to opinion. But on the whole...yeah. I'm gonna say yeah. I think the Chibnall era thus far is every bit as good as the Moffat Era and Davies Era were. It actually blows my mind to see the fandom come together and almost universally agree that the show has gone downhill. It's part of the reason why I kind of stepped away from the Doctor Who fandom because there's something very demoralizing about re-watching clips from Season 12 and seeing literally every comment just talk about how the show is ruined. And if I re-watch old clips, very often I come across comments that talk about how the show "used to" be good, and should have ended with Twelve, etc. I know a little reluctance toward the new Doctor can be part of the transition process, but normally the fans are over it by now.

Things haven't really changed.

I've been re-watching Twelve's era, and found a new appreciation for him. But I re-watched Thirteen's era right beforehand, and you know what? It holds up. Season 11 is remarkably strong. I can't think of a single "bad" episode in that season. It focuses on the characters, and thus it doesn't have nearly as strong ambitions, compared to one of the Moffat seasons, which were clever but often convoluted. They couldn't always stick the landing. (Looking at you, Season 6) But every has it's good parts and it's bad. The same man who wrote The Wedding of River Song and betrayed the entire season's storyline in the process...also wrote The Doctor Falls, which is probably my favorite final episode of any season ever. The Chibnall Era is the same way. The Tsuranga Conundrum isn't really a bad episode, it's just kind of forgettable, apart from the Pting. But then it is immediately followed up by Demons of the Punjab, which is an exceptional story in every way. I want the Thijurians to return for Thirteen's regeneration, I'm saying it.

My point being that even if there are episodes you can't stand in the new era, is that really exclusive to Chibnall? All the way back in Season 1, they had The Long Game, which I remember disliking, but it was sandwiched between Dalek and Father's Day, which are in my opinion, the two best episodes of that season. A lot of people don't like Orphan 55, for example. But it's followed up by Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror. Does anyone really dislike that episode? You're valid if you do, but I think it's really good. Ask me about any episode in the Chibnall Era, and I'll find something to like about it. (Except maybe Arachnids in the UK...and that one's not even bad, just kind of weak.) Because like I said, there is good and bad in every season...and I do think that the fandom has overblown how "bad" the Chibnall Era is...though that may be in part because I think this era is generally good? Incredible companions, solid episodes, a great Doctor, and hey...this era actually made the Daleks scary again. That is impressive. Even most of the hated episodes, like Orphan 55 as I mentioned...I enjoy them.

I stand by that. I think this era is great. If anything, I don't like that they reduced how many episodes we get, because some of these stories, like The Witchfinders and It Takes You Away especially Fugitive of The Judoon, are just begging to be two-parters. Spyfall is the only real two-parter we've had, in my opinion (Ascension of the Cybermen and The Timeless Children feel like two separate stories to me) and the episode was much stronger for having the extra time. If I have one genuine criticism with the Chibnall Era as a whole, it is the stark contrast between Seasons 11 and 12. I love Season 11, I thought it was beautiful. I like it far more than most people. I also truly enjoyed Season 12. But they are worlds apart, with Season 11 feeling so standalone and Season 12 picking up with a big storyline that really hadn't been hinted at all in the previous outing. The tone is also different, with The Doctor and "the fam" having a distance between them that seems to have developed offscreen in between seasons. It was as though Chibnall wanted to give everyone a breather from big overarching plots after the Moffat Era, but then after one season he decided "break's over" because he wanted to tell his story. And that's okay! It is. But it's jarring. Anyway, let's talk about Chibnall's storyline. You know where this is going.

"That" episode.

I meant what I said before. There isn't a single episode that I actively hate as much as say, Listen. Now let's get very controversial, because I know what y'all are thinking. "Not even The Timeless Children?" And I'll just get this out of the way right now: I don't think The Timeless Children, or it's twist, ruins Doctor Who. I don't think it gets anywhere close. I mentioned before that I was demoralized reading the comments on a clip of Doctor Who...to no one's surprise, it was this episode. Now, I may just be biased...after all, I didn't even hate Hell Bent. But while I have my criticisms of Season 12, The Doctor's revised backstory accounts for exactly none of them. You want to know what really bothers me? That we had a seven season buildup to Gallifrey's rescue, a nine season buildup to it's return...only for the show to do nothing with it, and then just destroy it again a couple of seasons later. As someone who loved The Day of The Doctor, I'm mad about that. Among other reasons, destroying Gallifrey is the kind of card you can really only play once.

So no, I don't think The Timeless Children is perfect. The Doctor had a seven season character arc culminating in them learning the lesson that using The Moment would be wrong, and that it was never okay to do something like that. To hear her even consider using The Death Particle, that "Or, a solution" line in response to Ryan appropriately reacting in horror? Yeah, that upset me. I don't like that Gallifrey is gone again, and even if The Doctor wasn't the one to do it, she almost did, and she left someone else to do it in her stead. That bothers me more than The Timeless Child ever could. That being said...the Timeless Child doesn't bother me. Seriously, it blows my mind that people act like this twist ruins Doctor Who. It...really doesn't, guys.

It does not insult the legacy of William Hartnell. He is still The First Doctor. It's not like there isn't a precedent for secret incarnations from The Doctor's past. We didn't start calling Christopher Eccleston The Tenth Doctor after we found out about John Hurt. Nothing can change The First Doctor's status or take it away, nor do I think Chibnall is trying. He is doing what I've actually wanted Doctor Who to do for a while. Give us a story about The Doctor's childhood. (Listen doesn't count, I don't care, that was all kinds of bad.) Let me ask you, what does this really change? I've seen people complain about the revision of The Doctor's history...but there's a precedent for that too. We could play bingo with how many times Clara fundamentally altered or influenced the show's history. She is the reason he started traveling, the reason he chose his Tardis, and the reason he saved Gallifrey. Why doesn't that bother people, if this does?

I also understand it if people dislike this change because they feel as though it makes The Doctor a kind of chosen one, compared to them having just been an average person who wanted to make a difference. I get that. However, this is down to interpretation, and there are so many ways to interpret The Doctor. Some people love it when The Doctor goes dark, other people cannot stand it and view it as out of character. Some people love it when The Doctor is heroic and badass, when they save the day...others would prefer that they take the backseat, teaching the humans how to save the day themselves. "The man who makes people better." And which interpretation you get, where it falls on the spectrum...it will vary from writer to writer. Moffat loved to make everything about The Doctor, and Davies frequently compared him to an angel or a god. This is not the first time that the show has portrayed The Doctor as a godlike being. It's not even close to the first time. And honestly? I don't think this makes The Doctor special or supernatural. I think it makes them a victim, nothing more. A victim of child abuse.

People also disliked this episode for removing the mystery behind The Doctor...but I fail to see how it did that? There are so. Many. Questions. That this finale opens up. Where did The Doctor come from? How and why did they get to our universe? What exactly is The Division? What went down between them and The Doctor? Where is Tecteun? (No, she's not Rassilon...) As the Masters asks, "What did they do to you, Doctor? How many lives have you had?" Amid all of the comments that made me sad, I did see a great one about how the original creator of Doctor Who actually didn't like it when they introduced the Timelords, because she felt that it boxed the show in and removed the mystery behind The Doctor, and how "She would have loved this episode." I agree with that. (Still salty that they destroyed Gallifrey though...) You know, I am genuinely interested in this story and where it's going to go, especially with the sixtieth anniversary approaching. But it depresses me that they might scale it back now, after how much the fandom has risen up against it. Not that I'm saying the fans shouldn't be happy, but...it's clear that a story is trying to be told here, and I think it should have that chance.

To each their own, of course. But I will never understand why this era is so hated.

[purekesseltrash]

My Fic List

Whelp, decided I should do one of these.  I have mostly written for Hockey RPF and BNHA, as you have likely already seen!

My BNHA Fics

Bury Them Deep

- “Shouji Mezou's entire life has revolved around being a goalie and playing hockey since he was five years old. After being drafted in the third round in the NHL, Shouji has two more years of college before moving on to playing professional hockey like he's always wanted. Or at least like he always thought he wanted. An injury that ends his season throws him into a tailspin, forcing him to take a look at his life and how he is going to live it, especially after meeting his fascinating new goth history tutor.”

(This bad bitch is 81k total and is chock full of my red hot hockey takes and midwestern references.  I love it very much and it is a sweet baby.)

The Rooftop Necromancy series AKA my black metal band AU:

Downhill from Here 

- “ Hizashi just wants to tour the country with his best friends with their metal band in their shitty van like they've been planning for years. He'd successfully hidden his crush on one of them for years, after all, he would definitely be able to make this work and keep things fun and uncomplicated. Until Aizawa decided to start acting weird. “

(In which I take you all on a nostalgic trip to 2006-2008 metal culture and you can see the black metal love song that my dumb ass wrote.)

The Perfect Mistake

- “ It wasn't as though Hizashi had planned on breaking up with his boyfriend while they were on tour in a tiny cargo van with no room and no peace. He would have much rather preferred to do it when they were home and he could easily go and crawl back into his mom's basement. But he didn't have a choice. “

(As relationships tend to do, theirs goes through problems.)

Rooftop Necromancy

-"He’d even ended up leaning into the crowd when someone’s elbow had connected solidly with his nose and thrown him back. They’d gone quiet as Hizashi got himself up to his feet, ripped off his now bloody ‘Within Temptations’ tshirt from 2004, whipped his hair back from his face and screamed, “That’s what I’m FUCKING talking about.” into the mic.

They went wild for it, cheering as blood ran down his nose, past his mouth and dripped onto the stage, leaving him feeling like an otherworldly monster performing an occult ritual. Metal, he thought dazedly to himself, why in the fuck had he ever stopped doing metal."

(I hyperfocused so hard at the idea of Mic as a metal head that I wrote this in seven straight hours and WROTE THROUGH THE ATTEMPTED COUP ON DEMOCRACY WITHOUT KNOWING IT.  It’s a bit rough, but it’s got some good parts and it spawned the whole damn series.)

Hands Up

- "But of course he had, they had always been able to read each other and what they meant. That had often been their problem, if he was going to be honest."

(In which they figure their shit out.  Basically it was written when I was thinking alot about how my own mental health had evolved through the years.  It’s basically the story of two people who are both very good for each other and also very bad and how they deal with that.  It’s probably the most personally meaningful thing I’ve ever written.)

The other BNHA fics:

Waking Up With Ghosts

-"Hizashi opened his eyes to a world that belonged to ghosts. His headphones were gone and the gray, grimy world that he felt more than saw was muffled and still. This was bad, he hazily thought."

In which we follow Hizashi shortly after the events of 296. How he's found, how he finds out and how he has to tell.”

(I fished this one out of the garbage of my Google Docs because I’d written most of it and forgotten about it.  I dragged it out, prettied it up a little and threw it up on AO3.  It is by far my most well read BNHA fic, go figure.)

Leave Her Johnny

-”Captain Hizashi Yamada has combed the Seven Seas looking for the elusive smuggler Eraserhead. He has spent years searching for him, tracking his movements and trying to anticipate where he would be next. But he had never considered what would happen when he finally found him. “

(I wrote a paragraph of this and was immediately like ‘I MUST CREATE THIS’.  I take some chances writing wise in this as the whole thing is done in a Victorian Era ish style of writing.  But I think it’s effective and the ending is likely one of the best that I’ve ever managed.  I’m proud of it.)

Gold Rush

-”"That earned him a laugh and Mashirao’s smile made something in his chest ache, something that made him want to hurt. Why had he ever left?

“I’m really not,” Mashirao was saying but Shinsou just shook his head and kissed him once, twice and wished he could take the sunny afternoon and make it stay forever. Make it stay forever like Mashirao somehow had, while the neighborhood had adjusted without Hitoshi’s permission.

“You are,” he said, “And I love it.”

I love you, he should have said.  But as Mashirao’s eyes softened and the blonde pushed him back against the bed, Hitoshi knew he didn’t need to say it."

(You know how sometimes you listen to a Death Cab for Cutie song about gentrification over and over until a fic comes out?  Because that’s basically what happened here.)

Black Sun

‘"But then he remembered the way that Shouji had eaten the night after, one hand curled into his hair as he hung back in the corner. Shouji hid when something was wrong, like a wounded cat trying to find a dark place to either live or die and he was being released tomorrow. Now was the time to push or he’d find Shouji right back on his bed, staring at nothing."

Something happened to Shouji on the beach. Tokoyami is sure of it.‘

(Aaaaaand Death Cab for Cutie strikes again.  But heyo, my first published ShouToko and it is SOFTTTTT)

In the Far and Mighty West

Mic came closer and despite himself, Shouta could not find it in him to feel afraid. “You won’t understand, not really. I’ll try, though. I’m like Pecos Bill or Paul Bunyan or a jackalope or that fish that your friend caught that he swears he brought in but that you’ve never seen proof of. I’m the herd of dogies moving sweet and steady in the right direction, I’m no stragglers to worry about, I’m that perfect dog that’s there to keep them in line. I’m that group of good friends that you would kill for, I’m the woman who you’re dying to come home to, I’m that promised home of milk and honey. I’m Mic.”

Shouta stared at him dazedly and licked his lips, feeling drunk and stupid as he stared at the man. “You’re… magic?”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

(Cowboy!Erasermic.  Inspired heavily by American Gods and my own love of folk heroes.)

In Your Violence

- “'Mezou frowned, eyes narrowing. “Are you trying to say that you’re scared that I’ll be killed by having faith in you?”

“It would be in your best interest to stay away from me,” Fumikage finally said, his voice falling flat and quiet. “I am destined to be a monster.”

'Mezou gets the call he fears, the one that says that Fumikage has lost control again. But this time it's different, in more ways than one.”

(I listened to Silence by Marshmello until I went insane in this is the result.  Featuring some of my super depressing headcanons about Shouji!  But it’s not awful.)

My hockey fics that I still like:

Hufflepuff Halfwit  

- ““Zhenya, the wind is coming from the west, I will not remind you again. You shut that window before the house stinks of factories!” She snapped and Geno stared at the owl as though maybe it would know what to do. But instead, it had given a little hoot and wiggled inside, only to drop it’s letter on the counter.

He turned his head very slowly back to look at his mother, who had suddenly gone very quiet. “It… just showed up, Mama. And um. It brought a letter.” He waited again, looked back at the owl who had begun to nose at the pirozhkis in interest and then looked back at his mother with the best puppy dog eyes he had ever attempted. “Can I keep it?”

(This is a part of my hockey/Harry Potter au that still legitimately haunts my dreams.  It’s basically a Sid/Geno in Hogwarts but I really love the world building I got to do with Koldovstoretz, the Russian school of wizardry.  Don’t read ‘On the Word of a Slytherin’ though, I’m not as proud of that one.)

The Prince  

- “What the fuck.” Matt breathed out, sitting back heavily onto his hotel bed as he stared at his phone.

‘This is Henrik.’ The text read. ‘I would like to meet you. I will book a room in Pittsburgh at your convenience. Let me know what time will work for you.’  - 

(Listen, it’s Henrik Lundqvist/Matt Murray smut, I feel like that is novel and interesting and worth your attention.  I wax poetic on goalies in this, as you do.)

The Zoo of Toronto 

- “No one missed it when a massive porcupine had shuffled in between the reporters with a single minded focus, pushing media away until it was able to grip onto Phil’s suit pants and try to pull itself up. He hadn’t been able to do more then besides pick the animal up before it could shred his pants to shreds and walk out of the locker room before the decision had been made with the Toronto media.

Phil Kessel was guilty.” 

(Not gonna lie, this is probably my favorite of the hockey fics I’ve written.  And it’s Phil/Carl, which is never found anymore but it was a good pairing.)

[latenightcinephile]

#703: 'Marketa Lazarová', dir. František Vláčil, 1967.

Marketa Lazarová is a slightly unusual film for me, because its effects go slightly beyond my ability to articulate or explain them. I originally saw it at a Film Society screening in 2015 or 2016, back when I was able to go to movies at 6 p.m. on a Monday evening, and it enthralled me then, splayed wide across the screen at the Paramount in crisp black and white. I knew very little of Czech cinema at the time and, embarrassingly, still haven't seen very much. Coming back to it five years later, it still holds a lot of that arcane power that it had. Marketa Lazarová is simultaneously a meditative experience and a gut punch.

František Vláčil was one of the Czech filmmakers who was originally trained with the Army Film Division, which surprisingly became a breeding ground for avant-garde filmmaking styles. Vláčil became disillusioned with the types of historical films that were being produced at the time, which seemed to him to feature contemporary people pretending to be characters from the past. What was needed instead, he argued, was a more immediate form of historical cinema that made audiences feel like they were witnessing history rather than a lacklustre interpretation of it. In order to achieve this, he frequently joined his cast and crew on long-term shoots where they lived in the types of conditions that the characters would. Sets were built using traditional methods, and scripts were written using archaic dialects to avoid that common experience of characters speaking in a recognisably modern way. The shoot for Marketa Lazarová lasted almost two years in these conditions.

The film's plot concerns three groups. The Kozlík clan, a family under the helm of a robber baron, robs a noble entourage and takes Kristian, the son of the bishop, hostage. Before Kozlík's sons can return to claim their loot, a neighbouring clan led by Lazar steals the spoils. Lazar is saved from being killed when a vision of a nunnery on a hillside appears. One of the chief themes of this film, alluded to early on, is the conflict between paganism and early Christianity. The two worldviews are muddy and indistinct, but the difference between them is what drives a lot of the retribution in the film. Kristian falls in love with one of Kozlík's daughters, Alexandra, while Kozlík's son, Mikoláš, falls in love with Lazar's daughter, Marketa, whom he has taken as a hostage in retaliation for Lazar refusing to side with Kozlík against the king and the bishop. In addition to the religious dimension, then, there is also an ongoing theme of where one's loyalties lie - with existing morals (family, God) or with the person you love. Over the course of this epic, the fates of all three groups trend downhill: members of each of these bands are slaughtered and betrayed; Kozlík and Alexandra are imprisoned; Marketa is released by Mikoláš but rejected by Lazar. The film's conclusion seems to suggest that it is Marketa, and the future generations she helps to bring into the world, that will be able to overcome the divisions that affected the clans so catastrophically, but also acknowledges that these types of conflicts are part of the human experience.

As vast and interwoven the plot of the film is, it's not what makes the experience of watching quite so transcendent. What makes this film feel like an out-of-body experience is Vláčil's use of non-linear and non-realistic techniques. Parts of the film's story are told in flashback, but without any explicit indication that this is happening. At times we see disconnected, hallucinatory images that only make sense when they are contextualised later on. One example of this is an erotic scene between Alexandra (Pavla Polášková) and a young man, who we assume to be Kristian (Vlastimil Harapes). It's only later that we discover that this is a flashback to an abortive romance between Alexandra and her brother Adam (Ivan Palúch) - a man I had initially disqualified from appearing here because Adam only has one arm in the current scenes. Revealing that it is Adam propels the story forward in traditionally linear fashion, but also causes the viewer to reassess the film's earlier scene to determine why these images are included there. These images are made further alien by their unexpected visual qualities: the sex scene takes place in a field of summer grain, but most of the film's 'present day' takes place in winter and early spring. Rather than ascribe them to an unmotivated flashback, it seems easier to read them as a poetic hallucination, and then Vláčil returns to reorganise what we had previously believed of the narrative.

As well as the narrative structure, Vláčil frequently employs long periods of silence and a seeming mismatch of cinematography, where figures are either oddly close to the camera or absurdly far away. On a deep level, it feels like nobody, even the director, has total control over what is being portrayed - like we've entered a kind of fugue state in which cinema just happens regardless of how legible its results are. Although its filming process was so long, the resulting scenes feel accidental or improvisational, culled down from a vast amount of footage.

While many of these techniques give us the experience of watching a dream of an imagined past, these techniques are also quite violent and confrontational. Even when the shots are distant or filmed in long takes, they're cut together in a jarring way, and the lack of a straightforward narrative makes it difficult on the viewer too. The activity implied in this method of editing, a complicated soundscape and opaque narrative combine to make Marketa Lazarová a film that feels very immediate and present. As Tom Gunning put it, writing for Criterion about his early encounters with the film, "an energized mobile camera and abrasive editing peers into a primitive era of human history." Just as the characters of the film are quick to anger and quick to act, the film also lacks temperance. This is a film of life and death in its most vital forms, and so it makes a certain kind of sense that Vláčil would, in defiance of the typical historical film, try and remove any layer of modern logic or reason that would prevent us from experiencing the film's events in a visceral way. This is also why the myth of the werewolf hangs so heavily over the film - invoked a few times by Kozlík's wife, and present in the appearance of his children and their uncanny survival abilities - it both defies modern logic and refers to a particularly corporeal type of monster.

Vláčil structures Marketa Lazarová with sudden intertitles that refer to the events and themes that we are about to see, in a poetic way that recalls the chapter titles of a 19th-century novel. 'On the Lot of Widows' and 'Who in the Past Brewed with Hops' provide the vantage point of someone placed about the action, narrating it to us in a distant sort of way. The music is similar: both ancient and modern, it frequently uses atonal incantations. Taken together, it feels like this story is being shouted at us from a distant time when things were more tactile. "The presence of animals and plants, the textures of stone and tree bark, of snow and marsh water," Gunning writes, "cling to us as we watch, often overriding the narrative."

The grand experience of watching this film is partly contradictory, then: this is a film that feels very modern, tells a story from the past, alludes to contemporary struggles, and when situated in Czech film history is wildly experimental. Gunning sees this film as being, in some respects, a statement about what Vláčil thought cinema could be, in those days of the 1960s where most national cinemas were experiencing their own variations on the New Wave that had developed in France. The experimental aspects of the films of Godard and Varda would be subsumed into the traditional toolbox of cinema and lose some of their vibrancy as a result - either directors would use them for blockbuster films or extend them into a new type of experimental film that was sterile and aloof.Considering this, it's worth appreciating exactly how daring Vláčil was being here: under a Communist regime, making a film about paganism, bestiality, sadism, incest, and torture. With all this darkness, Marketa Lazarová is a bright film, even funny at times. Humanity is a fallen, self-destructive thing, but there is something about this way of life, before it was layered deep underneath civilisation, reason and enlightenment, that was exciting and vibrant.

Does civilisation mean we lose something of our potential? The final narration of Marketa Lazarová tells us that these cycles of mistrust and anger are likely to repeat through the generations, but is that a price Vláčil thinks is worth paying? The urgency and difficulty of life in the distant past was inseparable from the superstitions of the time, but the urges were easier to sate, at least temporarily. The taming of these clans, like the taming of the avant-garde techniques Vláčil employs here, might have been inevitable, but this film shows that there is something valuable there nonetheless.

[hadleeestenlily]

One of the Boys | (ATYD timeline)

One of the Boys | (ATYD timeline)

paring: Regulus Black x James Potter (Jegulus/Starchaser)

genre: Marauders Era, Harry Potter

warnings: child abuse, graphic depictions of violence, major character death

summary: Follows the timeline of ATYD through Regulus’s PoV, 1972-Death.

status: incomplete

!! This is only the first chapter !! You can read the full fic here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866974/chapters/73494978

Chapter One | First Year: The First Meeting

“Hurry up! We haven’t got all day, Reg.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, trailing after his older brother with little enthusiasm. He wasn’t nearly as excited as Sirius, who'd been bouncing off the walls before they even left for Platform Nine and Three Quarters. When he had come back for the summer, he could hardly shut up about Hogwarts. It was the only thing he seemed to talk about anymore, specifically during Regulus’s piano lessons, and dancing lessons, and history lessons, and all the other lessons his mother had given him to busy himself before he got to school. It seemed she wanted him to learn every useful thing he could before studying magic, and Regulus couldn’t really blame her. Ever since Sirius got back, he’d become a complete waste of space, lounging around and scribbling away at what he said to be homework, though Regulus knew he was secretly writing letters to his friends.

Sirius had dragged him into a compartment on the train, pulling Regulus by the sleeve and saying, “You’ll love them! I know you will.” Surprisingly, Regulus had let him. He wouldn’t usually encourage such behavior, but it wasn’t every day that Sirius looked so cheerful, and part of him didn’t want to ruin that, though he’d never admit it.

Summer had been a right mess, though he wouldn’t admit that either. Bellatrix’s wedding went smoothly, but after that, everything had started going downhill. Sirius just didn’t know when to stop. He never did.

“Here we are,” Sirius said with a grin, sliding open the carriage door and gesturing to the seats.

There was only one other person in the compartment, a straw-haired boy that looked like he could be younger than Regulus. He was abnormally small for a twelve-year-old, and he looked nervous, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he was sitting in the right seat. His eyes darted between Sirius and Regulus, no doubt noticing how similar they appeared. Maybe he was actually having trouble telling them apart.

“Sirius,” the boy greeted, finally, giving the older brother a timid smile. “Have you seen James yet?”

“He’ll be along,” Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh!” he added, as if he’d already forgotten, “This is my brother, Regulus. Reg, this is Peter.”

Peter smiled cheerily, but Regulus shot the expression down with a fierce glare. He didn’t have time for making friends with filthy half-bloods. Instead, he brushed into the compartment and sat down in the corner seat, placing his chin in his hand and staring broodingly out the window.

“Er… Sorry ‘bout him,” Sirius said apologetically, stuffing their stuff into the luggage rack.

“S’ok,” Peter said, twisting his hands anxiously in his lap.

Sirius plopped down on the seat next to Regulus and nudged his elbow, to which Regulus shot him a glare. Surprisingly, his brother didn’t return it. He only raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, silently asking why he was in such a foul mood. But Regulus didn’t want to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about it. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The source of all their troubles always led back to one person in particular; their mother. Sirius knew that better than anyone, it seemed; even better than Regulus. He always knew exactly how to get on her bad side, and did so quite often. Too often, in Regulus’s opinion, but no matter how hard he tried to get Sirius to do as he was told, he just kept disobeying. He’d already fallen out of their family's favor for being placed in Gryffindor. You’d think that might’ve been enough, but no, not for Sirius. If anything, it had given him even more determination to be the worst kind of nuisance the Black family had ever seen.

Which led to Regulus’s other problem; what house he’d be placed in. He was terrified of what would happen to him if he got into Gryffindor, or any house other than Slytherin for that matter. His mother was so adamant that he not add to the list of family disappointments; first Andromeda and now Sirius. What would happen if a third Black child was led astray? Their family reputation would be in ruins. They would fall out of favor with the other pure-blood families, and what then? Regulus wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to find out.

It was then that the door decided to slide open, cutting Regulus’s thoughts short. He didn’t even bother to greet whoever it was - just another dirty blooded wizard his brother had befriended - but his ears still pricked upon hearing the joy in Sirius’s voice as he welcomed the newcomer.

“James!” Sirius cried, jumping out of his seat and clapping the other boy on the shoulder.

Ah, yes. The infamous blood traitor.

“Hello Sirius, been a while,” James drawled, sounding just as cheerful. “You too, Pete.”

“Hiya James,” Peter replied, much more relaxed now that the other boy had arrived.

Regulus didn’t bother to greet him, or even glance at him. He just studied the view out his window all the more intently, watching as a girl chased an orange tabby cat down the platform, attempting to squeeze through the crowd so as to not lose track of it. He saw another girl hugging their mother goodbye, tears in her eyes. Pathetic, he thought silently.

Then Regulus heard rustling from behind him as James placed his luggage on the rack. “And who’s this?” he asked no one in particular.

“Ah, that’s just my prat brother. Don’t worry bout him,” Sirius said as the boys settled into their seats. “You seen Remus?”

As if on cue, the door slid open again. Regulus rolled his eyes, becoming increasingly agitated with the noise. Was it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet? As the chorus of greetings started again, he attempted to stay focused on the platform, watching as a small boy tried to stick his fingers through an owl cage. Regulus wanted to warn him, but instead he just grimaced as the bird pecked the boy’s finger, drawing blood, and watched him burst into tears.

“Lupin!”

“Hiya lads. How’s it been?”

“We should be asking you!” James laughed. “Not one owl all summer!”

“You know I’m practically a muggle over the holidays. Couldn’t even get into my trunk to do homework; they locked it up.”

Regulus scoffed at the word muggle. He couldn’t help it. It’d become a habit he’d picked up from his mother. She always seemed proud when he did it, and it certainly didn’t hurt her mood. It was too late, however. The boy was already frowning at him. He was on the taller side, with a shaved head of hair and a glower that seemed oddly familiar. Regulus found himself not fully despising this one. At the very least, he didn’t sound nearly as cheerful as the rest of them.

“This is Reg,” Sirius introduced, now that his presence had been acknowledged. “Say hello, Reggie.”

“It’s Regulus,” he corrected irritably. Sirius only used ‘Reggie’ when he wanted to sound older, even though Regulus was the one who acted more his age.

“My darling brother,” Sirius told the boys.

Then someone shoved a hand toward him, and Regulus finally looked up to meet the gaze of the boy sitting across from him.

“Hi Regulus, I’m James,” he said, with an annoyingly friendly smile. His head was topped with dark curls, and large round glasses took up most of his face, but it didn’t stop his eyes from twinkling brightly. Regulus felt his stomach flip, no doubt a reaction from studying James’s detestable features, and looked down at his hand with all the disgust he could muster.

“Potter,” he spat.

That earned him a slap upside the head, which he flinched away from. It didn’t hurt, but whenever Sirius touched him, it always managed to take him by surprise.

“Stop being such a little prick,” Sirius snapped. “These are my friends.”

Friends. Sirius’s ‘friends’ were half-bloods and blood traitors, and Gryffindors at that. Regulus shouldn’t be seen with them. With any of them.

“I didn’t want to sit here,” he snarled at Sirius. “You made me.”

Something flickered over Sirius’s face then, and Regulus thought it might’ve been disappointment, or even guilt, but it was gone so quickly that he thought he must’ve imagined it.

“Oh, go on, piss off, then,” Sirius said coldly. “Dunno why I bothered.”

Something boiled in Regulus’s chest. Sirius had no right to hold his convictions against him. He was only trying to make their family proud, something Sirius had failed at over and over again. He thought about slapping him back, but quickly decided against it. He didn’t feel like getting into a fight. That would require yelling and hitting, both of which Regulus wanted to avoid. Instead he stood, storming out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He made his way down the corridor, realising he hadn’t bothered to grab his bag. He decided he’d just go back for it once they arrived at the castle.

“Regulus?”

He stopped short, turning to see his cousin, Narcissa Black, poking her head out of a compartment door. She’d curled the ends of her new, platinum-blonde hair, and her bright blue eyes were narrowed at him suspiciously.

“Can you not find a seat?” she frowned.

He shrugged noncommittally at his cousin, not really wanting to sit with her either. Not if she was all cozied up next to her boyfriend, Lucius Malfoy. He didn’t want to have to watch them stick their tongues down each other’s throats, which he’d already seen plenty of at Bellatrix’s wedding.

“Come,” she beckoned to him.

He clenched his jaw in silent retaliation, but still did as he was told, walking toward the compartment timidly and pausing at the door. Thankfully, his sister was not with Lucius Malfoy, but with two other Slytherin girls, who smiled at Regulus fondly. They all wore the same silvery pin on their robes, encrusted with a ‘P’ for prefect. He’d almost forgotten that Narcissa had gotten the position, but now recalled how she’d offhandedly mentioned it at the wedding. She seemed quite proud of herself when she said it, but was quickly brushed aside without so much as a single voice of praise. Regulus had wanted to say something to her about it, but never got the chance.

“This is my cousin, Regulus,” Narcissa introduced. “It’s his first year at Hogwarts.”

“Hello,” he greeted them shyly.

“Wait,” one of the girls gasped, “Isn’t he the brother of your other cousin? The one who got into Gryffindor?”

Regulus flushed with shame, his eyes darting away from the girls as he grimaced. Apparently, Sirius had already formed a reputation at Hogwarts, which would no doubt only hurt Regulus’s image further. He wished his brother would just shut up and blend in for once.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t bring up Sirius. He’s such a disappointment. Don’t worry though. Regulus is nothing like him. Isn’t that right, Reg?”

Regulus hesitated for a second. He felt like saying it out loud would be wrong, like some sort of betrayal, so instead he just nodded curtly.

“See? He’ll end up in Slytherin for sure.”

Then Narcissa patted the seat beside her and Regulus obeyed, sitting down next to his cousin. The girls began to chat about their summer holiday, but Regulus didn’t feel inclined to join in. Instead he looked out the window, propping his head up on his hand like he’d done before, and as he watched the countryside whiz by, he couldn’t help but feel more out of place than ever.

* * *

When they finally arrived at Hogsmeade station, Regulus slumped back to his brother’s compartment, in search of his bag. When he made it to the door, he was surprised to find the seat was still occupied by none other than James Potter. He had kicked his feet up on the opposite bench and was sucking on a Liquorice wand contentedly. Regulus’s bag sat next to him, teetering dangerously on the edge of the cushioned seats. When he opened the door, James scrambled to his feet, pulling the candy from his lips as he gave the younger boy a once over.

“Er… Regulus. Right,” he said. He grabbed the strap of Regulus’s bag and offered it to him with a smile. “I figured you might come back for it.”

Regulus snatched it from him, carefully keeping his distance from the older boy.

“Didn’t steal anything, did you?” he snarled.

James frowned at him, shouldering his own bag. “No,” he replied indignantly.

“Good,” Regulus snapped. Then he rounded on his heel and began making his way off the train. He rummaged around in the bag, just to make sure that they really hadn’t stolen anything. It seemed everything was in its place, as far as he could tell, and he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Down the platform, someone was calling first years, and he headed in that direction, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he went.

No one had told Regulus about the boat ride across the Black Lake. Unlike the other eager students, who awed at the reflection of the glowing castle, Regulus felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him. He studied the dark water warily as the students were called into the boats, but it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter. He took a deep breath before stepping inside and taking a seat, staring contentedly at his feet for the duration of the trip. He wondered if Sirius had conveniently forgotten to mention the lake to him, or whether he was indulging in the slow torture Regulus was currently experiencing. The trip couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, but to Regulus, it felt like it’d taken ages.

Then came the even harder part: the sorting.

Regulus was too apprehensive from the boat ride - and too concerned about the sorting - to care much for the magical ceiling of the Great Hall, or the floating candles, or the intimidating row of teachers at the head of the room. He just wanted to get into Slytherin, please his parents, and get it over with. That would end up attracting the least attention possible. He just wanted to fit in, and as a pure-blood, and a Black, there was no better place than Slytherin.

As the first years made their way to the front of the hall, Regulus spotted Sirius sitting at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes met briefly, but Regulus quickly glanced away, not wanting to think about what would happen if he ended up like his older brother. He could only imagine what his parents would say - or do - none of which was pleasant.

He was at least thankful that his last name started with a ‘B.’ That meant he got to be one of the first ones to go, which was better than anxiously waiting for his turn. Still, he felt his heart drop into his chest when his name was finally called. He slowly made his way to the stool, sitting on it and placing the hat on his head. It covered his eyes and most of his nose, and he jumped when a small voice spoke in his ear.

“Interesting,” it said softly. “Another Black .”

Oh Merlin, Regulus thought, Please let me be in Slytherin.

“You want to be in Slytherin?” the hat asked, though it didn’t seem all that surprised. “Are you sure? You have plenty of courage; intellect too. Not to mention your determination...”

Yeah, determination to be in Slytherin, Regulus thought sarcastically.

If the hat could laugh, Regulus thought it might’ve, because when it spoke again, it sounded exceedingly amused.

“How very resourceful of you,” it said gleefully. “Have it your way... SLYTHERIN!”

Regulus felt an enormous wave of relief crash over him, and he took the hat off, placing it back on the stool as he looked toward the uproarious table on the far right side of the room. Narcissa was smirking at him, her eyes twinkling with pride. He felt a surge of satisfaction then, and made his way to the table, his peers shaking his hand excitedly.

Suddenly, a boy with greasy black hair and a long, pointy nose patted him on the back. “Lucky you’re not a foul git like your brother, eh Black?”

Regulus felt a hot sear of anger flash through him, and he had the overwhelming urge to break the boy’s already ugly looking nose. He shoved the feeling down, however, as he always did, instead following the boy’s gaze over to the Gryffindor table. His eyes landed on Sirius, who was staring directly at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his gaze. After a second, Sirius looked away, his long hair falling into his face as he turned towards James to say something.

Regulus watched them for a moment before Narcissa grabbed his shoulders and smothered him in a hug. He cringed, trying to squeeze out of it, but she was a lot stronger than he was. Finally, she pulled away.

“Our family is going to be so proud, Regulus!” she beamed, elated. “I can’t wait to show you everything! You’re going to love our common room.”

Regulus only smiled, too taken aback to say anything. He rarely ever got hugs, especially not from his family, but he had to admit she seemed freer here; happy even. Possibly more exuberant than Regulus had ever seen her at home. She sat him down beside her, and the sorting continued. He attempted to catch Sirius’s eye again, but his brother didn’t so much as glance in his direction for the rest of the ceremony.

The feast was a welcome distraction from this, however, and Regulus indulged himself in the wide selection of foods. He never got to choose what he ate at home, so this small freedom was a welcome one. Then, when dessert came, he regretted filling his plate so much, thinking he might combust if he had one more bite.

“But you barely had anything!” Narcissa exclaimed as she offered him a platter of chocolate eclairs.

Regulus only shook his head, nauseated just by the thought of taking one. His cousin shrugged, picking out one for herself and lowering it onto her plate.

The greasy haired boy had introduced himself as Severus Snape, and the boy to his left was Garrick Mulciber. To Regulus, they both seemed frightfully impertinent, but Narcissa talked to them conversationally, smiling wickedly whenever they began to complain about the other houses. Severus brought up a group called ‘the marauders’ once or twice, but Regulus wasn’t curious enough to listen to his pompous complaints. Instead, he chatted with the first year who’d sat down next to him, a freckled boy named Bartemius Crouch.

“They just call me Barty though,” he told Regulus through a spoonful of pudding. “I’m jealous. Regulus sounds much smarter.”

“Well, thanks,” Regulus said with a small smile. “I think Barty is alright.”

Barty let out a sharp laugh in response. “Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically, grinning as he took another helping of pudding.

Regulus smirked and shrugged. “Actually, I think Sirius has the coolest-”

“For Salazar’s sake, please don’t bring him up,” Narcissa interjected. “You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

Regulus glanced over at her, wondering if she was joking, only to be met with a look of genuine aversion. He blinked at her for a moment before turning his gaze toward his crumb filled plate. Suddenly, he felt quite bad for his older brother. Sure, he had a knack for trouble and a flair for rebellion, and he did bring quite a mess to their family name, but he was still Sirius. He was still their family.

Narcissa seemed to notice his dejection and let out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t you remember what happened with Andromeda?” she asked tightly.

Regulus jerked his head up to look at her. He didn’t need reminding.

[taito-division]

🌙 - Eldrid

🌊 - Fleuret

🐟- Azusa

"My list of favorites?" Eldrid blinks and then smirks. "Well, I don't wanna give away too much info, but I can tell you some things. For food, I absolutely love Schweinshaxe! For those of you who don't know, its essentially just roasted ham hock, which is the end of a pig's leg. I could probably go an entire month eating nothing but that until I get sick of it!"

"For my favorite season, I'd have to definitely say Winter. Yeah, its cold as fuck outside, but that just makes it good weather to get out and exercise. And besides that, have you ever sat down in a lake in the middle of winter? Its so freakin' invigorating!" She says, laughing heartedly.

"Let's see... my favorite color... probably red, and I mean like a dark shade of red. Don't ask me why. It's just something about red that gets me invigorated. No surprise, really. Red is a dynamic color, meant to get you excited." She says, smirking.

"Let's do one more before we wrap this up. Let's see... my favorite drink! Of course, its alcohol! But as for what kind, without a doubt, Jägermeister! I can drink that for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even desert! Its not ideal for getting you drunk, but you can get a pretty good buzz off it... at least, I can!" Eldrid laughs out loud at her joke.

"On my days off, if he's not busy with his... coéquipières, I'll often head over to Yokohama and spend time with l'homme que j'aime, Rio. He and I often talk about what is going on each other's lives. He'll often regale me with some of his old war stories, fighting alongside my father. It's always intéressante listening to him." She said, smiling.

"If Rio is busy, then I'll often hang with Azusa and Eldrid, if either of them have time. If they are busy, I'll usually head home and either watch mes jeunes frères et sœurs for my parents, or read some novels. Either some my father's collection, or my own. I'm actually in the middle of a novel written by Gentaro of Shibuya. It's very entertaining!"

"I don't really remember much of time as toddler, I'm afraid. From what my father tells me, I was pretty much like I am now: very quiet and strange." Azusa shakes her head, laughing softly. "As a child, I would always watch my father train his students in our dojo. He wouldn't let me join, saying I was 'too young' or 'too little'. At the age of 10, after months of begging, he finally relented and let me hold a kendo stick." Azusa looks down at her hands, reminiscing.

"I remember the moment of having it in my hands. It was so heavy, I couldn't even lift it up above my head." She laughs. "Eventually as I got older, I got stronger and more disciplined. My father once told me that I was the living carnation of Tomoe Gozen." Azusa laughs again, before stopping, sighing sorrowfully.

"As a teenager, I was pretty much the same. Unfortunately, my teenage years are when things started going downhill for our dojo. And that's also when my mother disappeared and my dad got sick. It was after that he handed over ownership of the dojo to me. Me, a 19-year-old just out of high school." Azusa smiles, though its sad.

"I did my best to stick to my father's way of teaching and his principles. Unfortunately, it was during that the the "H. Era" started, and people started ditching their swords for microphones." Azusa shakes her head. "As for what I'll be doing in the future, who knows? If there's two things I've learned in my 24 years of living, its that tomorrow is never promised, and that anything is possible."

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

WIP Wednesday - In Love with My Car

Is there anything more iconic in Good Omens than David Tennant driving a flaming Bentley down an English road while Bohemian Rhapsody plays?

Possibly, but it’s still an awesome moment.

Especially when our lanky demon steps out, swaggering like an action movie star here to save the day, giving the one-liner he clearly spent half the journey thinking up: “You wouldn’t get that sort of performance from a modern vehicle.”

I wrote “In Love with My Car” because Crowley loves his car, period. It’s his home, in a way his flat never really is. When filming it’s final destruction, David Tennant’s only acting direction was: you are the Doctor and you just saw the Tardis destroyed. (Side note: that is the perfect kind of direction to give DT, not because he used to be the Doctor, but because he’s a huuuuuge Doctor Who fanboy and has probably written that fanfiction.)

Now, I learned more than I really ever thought I’d need to know about vintage cars while researching this story, but for those who have not, in the book Crowley has a 1928 Bentley, and on the show a 1933. This is rather a big difference.

I mean the ‘28 is cute and all. It’s like an old timey cartoon of a car. If I saw one of these on fire driving down the road, I’d be like “no, that’s fair, I expected that.”

The ‘33 is, if nothing else, much more in line with modern ideas of what a cool car should look like. Graceful, curving, solid. This was a car that was made to have good performance - above average, but you know, not German automobile levels - but also made to make you look rich and awesome in a decade where most people were not.

But book or TV show, it does NOT change the fact that Crowley loves the Bentley. Perhaps even more so in the book - like scroll back up and look at that thing. It’s like a sports-tractor. Book Crowley is very concerned with always having the latest, coolest flashiest things, yet he has a car that looks like it frequently gets outpaced by snails. Even TV Crowley, with his fondness for mementos and antiques, is constantly changing and updating his look to match the height of cool in every era, and the vintage Bentley look probably peaked in like the 1960s in the James Bond era.

What I’m saying is, if the point was to just look cool, both Crowleys would probably be driving some model of Jaguar at the very least.

But also in both - though you can obviously see it better on the show - the Bentley performs like a modern Jaguar (or, whatever). Like, Crowley shouldn’t be able to do 90 in Central London for the simple fact that a vintage Bentley can’t reach those speeds. The ‘33 could, as its max speed, under ideal circumstances which included “going downhill” and “perfectly smooth and straight road.” But Crowley drives it, screeching up the road, handling corners perfectly, at speeds that would make any driving instructor pass out.

But the Bentley is the Best Car. Crowley knows this, believes it, feels it in his soul. So when other cars start getting better, the Bentley does too, to match them. No fancy foreign Ferrari is going to outperform his awesome Bentley!

There’s been a lot written about how Crowley interacts with the spaces in his apartment. He keeps everything clean and open and minimalist, because space is such a luxury in Hell. He shouts at his plants because he’s reliving the abuse he suffers in Hell, and the rejection he received from Heaven.

The Bentley, though, represents the face he shows the world. Dark and powerful and cool and a little out of place but full of so much unmistakable style that really you have to question what every other car is doing wrong by not being a Bentley. This is exactly the kind of being Crowley wishes to be. The kind that turns every head when he comes in a room, the kind that always handles everything with effortless grace and style, the kind that everyone makes space for and just watches pass in utter awe.

Even when he talks to the car, primarily during the bits where it’s on fire, he’s encouraging it, telling it how good of a car it is, how it can do this utterly insane thing that it really, really can’t. It’s the complete opposite of how he treats his plants (degrading and berating them when for every tiny failure), because while the plants represent a part of himself he’s trying to distance himself from, the Bentley allows him to be who he wants to be.

And that is something that he would never, ever exchange for any other vehicle.

Anyway, you can read more about my thoughts on Crowley’s thoughts on his car in my fanfiction, “In Love with My Car” over on AO3!

(Note to readers: looking like a very good chance of no update this week. I will post this evening with current progress on my upcoming stories.)

[middleofnowhere92]

@imnotginnyweasly requested Ty Luko for my ATLA Valentine’s Day one shots I got so excited to write my fav OTP my hand slipped and it’s gonna be a two shot. Chapter two will be up soon. 

The Worst Morning After (Chapter 1)

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ty Lee/Zuko (Avatar), Ty Lee & Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: Morning After, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era Summary: Ty Lee and Zuko wake up together. It goes downhill from there.

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Notes: It might seem implied that they had sex, but we'll find out if anything happened in chapter 2.

Ty Lee blinked awake as the sun starting to filter in through the blinds. Well, she tried to blink awake. Her mascara had effectively glued her eye shut. She sniffed the air. This didn't smell like her Bath and Body Works air freshener. This place smelled like mahogany, maybe? She rubbed at her eyes and was finally able to get them open. She glanced around. Yeah, she definitely hadn't made it home last night. The bedroom was sparse. A few traditional Fire Nation art works hung on the walls. At least this guy had a clean room, or was it a girl? Geez, she must have had a few last night. Well, either way, it didn’t really matter. It was time to go. She scanned the bedroom one more time. Her dress was on the floor by the door, but where in the Spirits were her shoes...

The person shifted next to her in bed. Shit! She had missed her window to escape. Ty Lee was pretty good with people, but sometimes she just wanted to hit and run. She wasn’t in the mood to tell her life story. She should just leave now before they fully woke up. The only problem was her dress was all the way over there… She chewed at her lip trying to figure a way out of this.

Suddenly, the other person got up and out of bed. She screwed her eyes shut to feign sleep. She heard their footsteps walk away, followed by a door shutting and the shower turning on. Perfect! This is the opportunity she needed.

She bounced up and out of bed, the cool air making her very awake. She scurried over to her dress. She picked up the pink glittery number and started to wiggle in. She forgot how tight this stupid thing was. She bounced up and down, the floor boards creaking, as she pulled the dress over her thighs. The fabric finally bent to her will and she was able to pull it all the way up. She bit her lip as she twisted her arm in an inhumane way to pull the zipper up.

She pulled and pulled, but the zipper wouldn’t budge. She sucked in as much as she could and it finally pulled up. She spun around looking for her pink glittery heels. They had to be in here somewhere. She glanced to the other person’s side of the bed, but nope. There was just a pair of black jeans crumpled on the floor.

Okay, it was time for her to go further into this person’s living place in her quest. She pressed her ear to the door for any sign of roommates. She heard nothing, so she took a deep breath and opened the door as slowly and quietly as she could. She poked her head out, looking each way before opening the door fully.

She tip toed out into the apartment, scanning for the pink glittery shoes. They were six inch heels for Spirits’ sake. They shouldn’t be that hard to find, especially in this neutral decor situation. This apartment was actually really nice and modern. A little too blah for her taste, but definitely nice. She slunk through the kitchen and hurriedly crossed to the living room, when she spotted them next to the couch. She grinned gleefully as she hopped on one foot as she shoved the other in her heel.

Once both heels were on, she decided this was the perfect opportunity for escape. She stepped on the balls of her feet to avoid her heels hitting the floor. She made a plan to call an Uber as soon as she got in the hallway, except… She huffed her bangs out of her face. Where in the spirits was her phone?

Okay, she just had to be quick. Get it and get out. She hurriedly teetered in her heels across the apartment looking for her phone case covered in pink rhinestones. It had to be around here somewhere. She crammed her small hands in the couch, not feeling anything. She groaned, but scampered through the kitchen, looking over the counter top. She was about to head back to the bedroom, when she turned back to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of fireflakes and then continued with her mission. She could never pass on fireflakes.

She stepped in the bedroom and narrowed her eyes in search of her phone. She shook out the comforter, but no luck. She picked up the pillows, but couldn’t find anything. She looked on the desk, side of the bed, but came up empty. Finally she decided to look under the bed.

She wiggled under the bed. At least it was clean under here too. She saw the glimmer of her bedazzled phone even in the darkness under the bed. She reached her arm out and she hit her phone, sending it sliding across the hardwood floor. She wiggled further under the bed stretching her arm out, if she just had longer fingers. She made grabby hands, but the phone stayed just out of her reach. She was so focused on getting her phone, she was startled when someone cleared their throat and in a raspy voice asked, “Uh, do you need help?” She let out a light scream at the fright, her head bouncing up and hitting the bed frame.

“Oww!” She groaned. This person had the audacity to snort at her predicament. She glowered, “Are you laughing at me?” They answered breathily, “No…” as they failed to keep their laughter out of their voice. She glared up at them through the mattress. They offered, “Uh, do you need me to pull you out?” She rolled her eyes, “Absolutely not! I can-” As she shimmied out from her under the bed, her extremely tight dress chose that exact moment to rip from the bottom to the middle of her back.

As she heard the loud tear of the fabric, she realized what happened and wanted to burst into tears. This by far was the worst, most awkward, humiliating morning after she had ever endured. She let her head thunk against the hardwood floor,  wishing it would swallow her up. It’s not like she had any dignity left anyway. She sniffled and Raspy Voice interjected, “Oh, um don’t cry. It’s okay. We’ll get you out.” Couldn’t they just be quiet? She didn’t need to be reminded that there was a witness to the least graceful moment of her life.

She shoved herself out of the bed. When she got out she huffed and sat on the floor, her back against the bed. She glanced around, but the other person wasn’t there. They stepped back into the room and Ty Lee tried her best not to stare. He gave her a small smile and handed her a red towel, “Uh, here you can, uh, shower if you want.” He went to the dresser, “You can wear some of my stuff, it might be a little big, but, um-” “It’ll be better than this right?” She asked as she wrapped the towel around her waist to cover the giant rip in her dress.

He gave her the same tight lipped smile, “Uh, yeah.” He gestured to the door off his bedroom, “Bathroom’s over there.” She thanked him and then slunk into the bathroom to escape the awkwardness. Well, he by far was the prettiest person she had ever gone home with. Sure he had a large scar over the left side of his face, but he was really really good looking. In the brief glimpse that she had gotten, she had noticed how tall and built he was. His wet black hair had been thrown up in a top knot,  a few pieces hanging down in his face. He had just been wearing sweats and a v-neck, but you could still see the muscular build underneath and the tattoos that crawled down his arms.

She cleared her head of the thoughts and cranked the shower on, turning the water as hot as possible. She looked in the steamy mirror to see her gray eyes surrounded in smudged glitter and eyeshadow, giving her the appearance of a raccoon in drag. Her braid was frizzy and her baby hairs were a mess. She looked like shit. Guess she wouldn’t be seeing this guy again. She dropped the towel, then her dress and undid her braid.

She stepped in the hot water, letting it scald her. She closed her eyes, feeling the hot water wash away her sins from the night before. She leaned her head back letting her thick hair become absorbed and heavy with water. She turned, scrubbing the mess of makeup off her face. She stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out, attempting to avoid the inevitable.

She reluctantly stepped out of the shower, wrapping the towel around herself. She put some tooth paste on her finger and got rid of the taste of last night. She poked her head out and found the bedroom empty, but a black pair of boxer briefs, a worn Blink 182 t-shirt, a black Thrasher hoodie and a pair of black sweats were laid out on the bed. At least he was kind of nice, she thought to herself. She dried herself and hung the towel up. She heard voices on the other side of the door, one being the hot guy from earlier and the other sounded like a woman on speaker phone.

The girl asked, “So how’d it go last night Sparky? Finally get some?” The guy snorted, “Can we not talk about this?” His friend brushed it off, “Give me something juicy! It’s literally the only reason I called you.”  The guy sounded like he was shuffling around in the kitchen as he responded, “I thought you were gonna let me know whose place we were doing your Anti-Valentine's day at later.” The other person answered, “Well duh, your place obviously.” Raspy Voice answered, “Spirits no! There’s pink glitter all over the place.” The other voice answered, “Glitter! What in the Spirits did you take home with you last night?” The guy awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “The line’s breaking up! I can’t hear you. Gotta go. Bye!”

Ty Lee bit her lip to keep her laugh in. He seemed like a nice enough guy. His words reminded her that right, today was Valentine's Day. The sun had barely risen, but this day was even worse than the Valentine's day that Haru had broken up with her. Last night, she had gone out for a fun night with Aang and Suki to forget that they were single, but it had somehow spiraled into the disaster of a situation she was currently in. She shook her head and put on his borrowed clothes. She finger combed her thick, impossibly long hair, but she didn’t have the energy to attempt to braid it right this minute. She braced herself and opened his bedroom door.  His back was turned to her as he opened and closed kitchen cabinets.

Even though she hadn’t made any noise, he seemed to sense her. He called over his shoulder, “I got your phone out from under the bed. It’s on the charger.” He pointed to it with an empty cereal box, that he then tossed in the recycling. She bounced over and saw the many, many missed calls and text messages from Suki and Aang. She groaned thinking about all the questions she would have to deal with the next time she saw them. And she spotted her bag of fireflakes from earlier, perched right next to her phone. She snuck the little bag into the hoodie pocket.

The guy looked over at her and asked, “Wanna come get breakfast with me?” She looked at him wide eyed like a deer startled by a hunter, “Oh, I don’t want to intrude.” She couldn’t possibly go out in public like this . She was already horrified that he had seen her without make up, looking like a half dead zombie. She couldn’t have anyone else witness how utterly disgusting she looked. He just shrugged, “I was gonna go anyway, since I have nothing to eat here.”

Oh. So he didn’t really want her to come. That was fine. She couldn't blame him. She tried to answer in a nonchalant tone, “I ordered my Uber. I should really head home.” He turned to finally look at her. She had never felt so self conscious, his golden eyes seemed to be able to see every flaw in her appearance, as he took in her disheveled form. She became weirdly embarrassed as he glanced down at her pink glitter painted toes. He walked away and answered, “My half sister left some crocs here. They’ll probably fit you.” He came back holding a pair of white crocs that did actually look like they would fit.

She slipped into them and his oversized long sweatpants cascaded over them. She looked up at him sheepishly, feeling a pink blush tint her cheeks, “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She unplugged her phone and scooped up her heels while he grabbed a burgundy hoodie. She followed him out of the apartment and down the stairs. The cold February air gave Ty Lee a chill. She tucked her long damp hair into the hood and pulled it up.  He glanced at her, “Oh, fuck. Sorry. I should have given you a hat or something.”

The two stood there in awkward silence. Ty Lee turned staring off into the distance praying this Uber would get here soon. Couldn’t this guy just walk wherever he was going and leave her to sulk in her walk/ride of shame?

Thankfully, the Spirits took pity on her and her ride pulled up. She gave Hot Guy a small nod, not wanting to really acknowledge him and her embarrassment,  and then got in. As the driver pulled away, he began chattering about his cabbage farming business. Ty Lee stared out the window, trying to forget this terrible morning. She opened the bag of fireflakes for comfort as they got further and further away from the scene of her horrifying morning.

[aboveallarescuer]

Dany longing for a home, people to belong to and peace and safety in general

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

 *Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

Power is what Daenerys wants and that's really all she wants. She lusts after the Iron Throne with a hunger that is truly baffling. She's not from Westeros, or at least she's never really lived there her entire life. (x)

~

Why does she want to be queen so badly? Is it to bring a more just era of rule to the land? [...]

Why? What will she do with this power? Will she be a good and just monarch or will she be more like her father, the Mad King? More and more I suspect that she will be a very bad queen, only interested in doing what is right only if it helps her secure the Iron Throne. (x)

~

Her ruthlessness can't just mean nothing. She's far too power-hungry and far too cold to end up as a good person, ruling magnanimously over a peaceful land. (x)

Never mind that demanding that Dany asks herself why she wants to be queen is not understanding how the Westerosi pseudofeudalistic system works (or that she outright states that "justice ... that’s what kings are for" in ASOS Dany III).

Is power really all Dany wants, to the point of "lust[ing] after the Iron Throne" (particularly gross wording)? Is Dany "only interested in doing what is right only if it helps her secure the Iron Throne"? Is Dany "far too power-hungry and far too cold to end up as a good person"?

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

The hill loomed larger down here. Dany had taken to calling it Dragonstone, after the ancient citadel where she’d been born. She had no memories of that Dragonstone, but she would not soon forget this one. Scrub grass and thorny bushes covered its lower slopes; higher up a jagged tangle of bare rock thrust steep and sudden into the sky. There, amidst broken boulders, razor-sharp ridges, and needle spires, Drogon made his lair inside a shallow cave. He had dwelt there for some time, Dany had realized when she first saw the hill. The air smelled of ash, every rock and tree in sight was scorched and blackened, the ground strewn with burned and broken bones, yet it had been home to him.

Dany knew the lure of home.

~

Daenerys Targaryen was no stranger to the Dothraki sea, the great ocean of grass that stretched from the forest of Qohor to the Mother of Mountains and the Womb of the World. She had seen it first when she was still a girl, newly wed to Khal Drogo and on her way to Vaes Dothrak to be presented to the crones of the dosh khaleen. The sight of all that grass stretching out before her had taken her breath away. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and I was full of hope. Ser Jorah had been with her then, her gruff old bear. She’d had Irri and Jhiqui and Doreah to care for her, her sun-and-stars to hold her in the night, his child growing inside her. Rhaego. I was going to name him Rhaego, and the dosh khaleen said he would be the Stallion Who Mounts the World. Not since those half-remembered days in Braavos when she lived in the house with the red door had she been as happy.

~

No, Dany told herself. If I look back I am lost. She might live for years amongst the sunbaked rocks of Dragonstone, riding Drogon by day and gnawing at his leavings every evenfall as the great grass sea turned from gold to orange, but that was not the life she had been born to. So once again she turned her back upon the distant hill and closed her ears to the song of flight and freedom that the wind sang as it played amongst the hill’s stony ridges. The stream was trickling south by southeast, as near as she could tell. She followed it. Take me to the river, that is all I ask of you. Take me to the river, and I will do the rest.

The hours passed slowly. The stream bent this way and that, and Dany followed, beating time upon her leg with the whip, trying not to think about how far she had to go, or the pounding in her head, or her empty belly. Take one step. Take the next. Another step. Another. What else could she do?

~

“Drogon killed a little girl. Her name was ... her name ...” Dany could not recall the child’s name. That made her so sad that she would have cried if all her tears had not been burned away. “I will never have a little girl. I was the Mother of Dragons.”

~

In the stream or out of it, I must keep walking. Water flows downhill. The stream will take me to the river, and the river will take me home.

Except it wouldn’t, not truly.

Meereen was not her home, and never would be. It was a city of strange men with strange gods and stranger hair, of slavers wrapped in fringed tokars, where grace was earned through whoring, butchery was art, and dog was a delicacy. Meereen would always be the Harpy’s city, and Daenerys could not be a harpy.

ADWD Daenerys IX

She pushed herself to her feet, splashing softly. Water ran down her legs and beaded on her breasts. The sun was climbing up the sky, and her people would soon be gathering. She would rather have drifted in the fragrant pool all day, eating iced fruit off silver trays and dreaming of a house with a red door, but a queen belongs to her people, not to herself.

~

Treachery on treachery, the queen thought wearily. Is there no end to it?

~

In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

Every child knows its mother, Dany thought. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves … “They call to me. Come.”

~

Dany slid her arms around him and let him have his way. Drunk as he was, she knew he would not be inside her long.

Nor was he. Afterward he nuzzled at her ear and whispered, “Gods grant that we have made a son tonight.”

The words of Mirri Maz Duur rang in her head. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before. The meaning was plain enough; Khal Drogo was as like to return from the dead as she was to bear a living child. But there are some secrets she could not bring herself to share, even with a husband, so she let Hizdahr zo Loraq keep his hopes.

Her noble husband was soon fast asleep. Daenerys could only twist and turn beside him. She wanted to shake him, wake him, make him hold her, kiss her, fuck her again, but even if he did, he would fall back to sleep again afterward, leaving her alone in the darkness. She wondered what Daario was doing. Was he restless as well? Was he thinking about her? Did he love her, truly? Did he hate her for marrying Hizdahr? I should never have taken him into my bed. He was only a sellsword, no fit consort for a queen, and yet …

I knew that all along, but I did it anyway.

“My queen?” said a soft voice in the darkness.

Dany flinched. “Who is there?”

“Only Missandei.” The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. “This one heard you crying.”

“Crying? I was not crying. Why would I cry? I have my peace, I have my king, I have everything a queen might wish for. You had a bad dream, that was all.”

“As you say, Your Grace.” She bowed and made to go.

“Stay,” said Dany. “I do not wish to be alone.”

“His Grace is with you,” Missandei pointed out.

“His Grace is dreaming, but I cannot sleep. On the morrow I must bathe in blood. The price of peace.” She smiled wanly and patted the bed. “Come. Sit. Talk with me.”

ADWD Daenerys VII

If she had been some ordinary woman, she would gladly have spent her whole life touching Daario, tracing his scars and making him tell her how he’d come by every one. I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought … but he had not asked it, and never would.

~

Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain.

~

“...Bring your frog to court tomorrow. The others too. The Westerosi.” It would be nice to hear the Common Tongue from someone besides Ser Barristan.

~

She went to the parapet and stood there gazing down upon the city as she had done a hundred times before. It will never be my city. It will never be my home.

~

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen. They seemed a scruffy bunch, but that was only to be expected of sellswords. The youngest could not have been more than a year older than her; the oldest must have seen sixty namedays. A few sported signs of wealth: gold arm rings, silken tunics, silverstudded sword belts. Plunder. For the most part, their clothes were plainly made and showed signs of hard wear.

~

When she saw the name Ser Willem Darry, her heart beat a little faster.

~

This was done in Braavos, while we were living in the house with the red door. Why did that make her feel so strange?

ADWD Daenerys VI

Dany tried to speak and found no words. She remembered Ben’s face the last time she had seen it. It was a warm face, a face I trusted. Dark skin and white hair, the broken nose, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Even the dragons had been fond of old Brown Ben, who liked to boast that he had a drop of dragon blood himself. Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. Was Plumm the third treason, or the second? And what did that make Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear? Would she never have a friend that she could trust? What good are prophecies if you cannot make sense of them? If I marry Hizdahr before the sun comes up, will all these armies melt away like morning dew and let me rule in peace? Daario’s announcement had sparked an uproar. [...] “Be quiet! I have heard enough.”

[...] She wanted to scream, to gnash her teeth and tear her clothes and beat upon the floor. Instead she said, “Close the gates. Will you make me say it thrice?” They were her children, but she could not help them now. “Leave me. Daario, remain. That cut should be washed, and I have more questions for you.”

[...] He kissed her.

[...] “I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.” She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

ADWD Daenerys III

Dany could feel the warmth of his fingers. He was warm in Qarth as well, she recalled, until the day he had no more use for me.

~

That only made him chuckle. “The Dothraki horselords call the Lhazarene the Lamb Men. When you shear them, all they do is bleat. They are not a martial people.”

Even a sheepish friend is better than none.

~

Dany had never known a home. In Braavos, there had been a house with a red door, but that was all.

~

Westeros. Home. But if she left, what would happen to her city?

~

The next morning Dany woke as full of hope as she had been since first she came to Slaver’s Bay. Daario would soon be at her side once more, and together they would sail for Westeros. For home.

~

Take these ships and sail away, or you will surely die screaming. You cannot know how many enemies you have made.”

I know one stands before me now, weeping mummer’s tears. The realization made her sad.

~

Dany seated herself upon her bench again to gaze across the blue silk sea, toward distant Westeros. One day, she promised herself.

ADWD Daenerys I

She had been dreaming of a house with a red door when Missandei woke her. There had been no time to dress.

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.

Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. Missandei had told her of the Lord of Harmony, worshiped by the Peaceful People of Naath; he was the only true god, her little scribe said, the god who always was and always would be, who made the moon and stars and earth, and all the creatures that dwelt upon them. Poor Lord of Harmony. Dany pitied him. It must be terrible to be alone for all time, attended by hordes of butterfly women you could make or unmake at a word. Westeros had seven gods at least, though Viserys had told her that some septons said the seven were only aspects of a single god, seven facets of a single crystal. That was just confusing. The red priests believed in two gods, she had heard, but two who were eternally at war. Dany liked that even less. She would not want to be eternally at war.

~

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

~

She looked away until she heard the doors open and close. Then she sank back onto the ebony bench. He’s gone, then. My father and my mother, my brothers, Ser Willem Darry, Drogo who was my sun-and-stars, his son who died inside me, and now Ser Jorah ...

~

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

ASOS Daenerys V

“Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you ... before I came to love ...”

“Do not say that word!” She backed away from him. “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised?”

“Varys said ... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

I was going to take you home! [...] Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe?

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany found herself wondering whether he was right about Daario. She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. “You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

~

Dany looked at Missandei. “What are they shouting?”

“It is Ghiscari, the old pure tongue. It means ‘Mother.’”

Dany felt a lightness in her chest. I will never bear a living child, she remembered. Her hand trembled as she raised it. Perhaps she smiled. She must have, because the man grinned and shouted again, and others took up the cry. “Mhysa!” they called. “Mhysa! MHYSA!” They were all smiling at her, reaching for her, kneeling before her.

ASOS Daenerys I

Across the still blue water came the slow steady beat of drums and the soft swish of oars from the galleys. The great cog groaned in their wake, the heavy lines stretched taut between. Balerion’s sails hung limp, drooping forlorn from the masts. Yet even so, as she stood upon the forecastle watching her dragons chase each other across a cloudless blue sky, Daenerys Targaryen was as happy as she could ever remember being.

~

The narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives. She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she’d watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor.

~

They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

It was not by choice that she sought the waterfront. She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother’s womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper’s hired knives? But it was run or die. Xaro had learned that Pyat Pree was gathering the surviving warlocks together to work ill on her.

~

Her bloodriders would sooner have returned to their great grass sea, even if it meant braving the red waste again. Dany herself had toyed with the idea of settling in Vaes Tolorro until her dragons grew great and strong.

~

It was good to hear men speaking Valyrian once more, and even the Common Tongue, Dany thought as they approached the first ship.

ACOK Daenerys III

Part of her would have liked nothing more than to lead her people back to Vaes Tolorro, and make the dead city bloom. No, that is defeat. I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

~

“...The Qartheen have a curious wedding custom, my queen. On the day of their union, a wife may ask a token of love from her husband. Whatsoever she desires of his worldly goods, he must grant. And he may ask the same of her. One thing only may be asked, but whatever is named may not be denied.”

“One thing,” she repeated. “And it may not be denied?”

“With one dragon, Xaro Xhoan Daxos would rule this city, but one ship will further our cause but little.”

Dany nibbled at an onion and reflected ruefully on the faithlessness of men.

ACOK Daenerys II

She wondered whether Aegon’s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint. It must, surely. Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms were more beautiful than any other place in the world.

The thought of home disquieted her. If her sun-and-stars had lived, he would have led his khalasar across the poison water and swept away her enemies, but his strength had left the world. Her bloodriders remained, sworn to her for life and skilled in slaughter, but only in the ways of the horselords. The Dothraki sacked cities and plundered kingdoms, they did not rule them. Dany had no wish to reduce King’s Landing to a blackened ruin full of unquiet ghosts. She had supped enough on tears. I want to make my kingdom beautiful, to fill it with fat men and pretty maids and laughing children. I want my people to smile when they see me ride by, the way Viserys said they smiled for my father.

But before she could do that she must conquer.

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys VIII

Dany did not want to go back to Vaes Dothrak and live the rest of her life among those terrible old women, yet she knew that the knight spoke the truth. Drogo had been more than her sun-and-stars; he had been the shield that kept her safe. “I will not leave him,” she said stubbornly, miserably. She took his hand again. “I will not.”

~

“All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning.”

Her words were a knife through Dany’s breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all ... “No,” she pleaded. “Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way ... some magic, some ...”

AGOT Daenerys VI

“The stallion who mounts the world has no need of iron chairs.”

[...] “It was prophesied that the stallion will ride to the ends of the earth,” she said.

“The earth ends at the black salt sea,” Drogo answered at once. He wet a cloth in a basin of warm water to wipe the sweat and oil from his skin. “No horse can cross the poison water.”

“In the Free Cities, there are ships by the thousand,” Dany told him, as she had told him before. “Wooden horses with a hundred legs, that fly across the sea on wings full of wind.”

Khal Drogo did not want to hear it. “We will speak no more of wooden horses and iron chairs.” [...]

Savage beasts he did not fear, nor any man who had ever drawn breath, but the sea was a different matter. To the Dothraki, water that a horse could not drink was something foul; the heaving grey-green plains of the ocean filled them with superstitious loathing. Drogo was a bolder man than the other horselords in half a hundred ways, she had found ... but not in this. If only she could get him onto a ship ...

~

“My princess. How may I serve you?”

“You must talk to my lord husband,” Dany said. “Drogo says the stallion who mounts the world will have all the lands of the earth to rule, and no need to cross the poison water. He talks of leading his khalasar east after Rhaego is born, to plunder the lands around the Jade Sea.”

[...] “The khal has never seen the Seven Kingdoms,” he said. [...]

“But he must ride west,” Dany said, despairing. “Please, help me make him understand.” She had never seen the Seven Kingdoms either, no more than Drogo, yet she felt as though she knew them from all the tales her brother had told her. Viserys had promised her a thousand times that he would take her back one day, but he was dead now and his promises had died with him.

“The Dothraki do things in their own time, for their own reasons,” the knight answered. “Have patience, Princess. Do not make your brother’s mistake. We will go home, I promise you.”

Home? The word made her feel sad. Ser Jorah had his Bear Island, but what was home to her? A few tales, names recited as solemnly as the words of a prayer, the fading memory of a red door ... was Vaes Dothrak to be her home forever? When she looked at the crones of the dosh khaleen, was she looking at her future?

~

You could never tell what treasures the traders might bring this time, and it would be good to hear men speaking Valyrian again, as they did in the Free Cities.

~

If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old ... and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman ... but not for the dragon. With Viserys gone, Daenerys was the last, the very last. She was the seed of kings and conquerors, and so too the child inside her. She must not forget.

~

But the Western Market smelled of home.

As Irri and Jhiqui helped her from her litter, she sniffed, and recognized the sharp odors of garlic and pepper, scents that reminded Dany of days long gone in the alleys of Tyrosh and Myr and brought a fond smile to her face. Under that she smelled the heady sweet perfumes of Lys. She saw slaves carrying bolts of intricate Myrish lace and fine wools in a dozen rich colors. Caravan guards wandered among the aisles in copper helmets and knee-length tunics of quilted yellow cotton, empty scabbards swinging from their woven leather belts. Behind one stall an armorer displayed steel breastplates worked with gold and silver in ornate patterns, and helms hammered in the shapes of fanciful beasts. Next to him was a pretty young woman selling Lannisport goldwork, rings and brooches and torcs and exquisitely wrought medallions suitable for belting. A huge eunuch guarded her stall, mute and hairless, dressed in sweat-stained velvets and scowling at anyone who came close. Across the aisle, a fat cloth trader from Yi Ti was haggling with a Pentoshi over the price of some green dye, the monkey tail on his hat swaying back and forth as he shook his head.

“When I was a little girl, I loved to play in the bazaar,” Dany told Ser Jorah as they wandered down the shady aisle between the stalls. “It was so alive there, all the people shouting and laughing, so many wonderful things to look at ... though we seldom had enough coin to buy anything ... well, except for a sausage now and again, or honeyfingers ... do they have honeyfingers in the Seven Kingdoms, the kind they bake in Tyrosh?”

[...] Her handmaids trailed along as Dany resumed her stroll through the market. “Oh, look,” she exclaimed to Doreah, “those are the kind of sausages I meant.” She pointed to a stall where a wizened little woman was grilling meat and onions on a hot firestone. “They make them with lots of garlic and hot peppers.” Delighted with her discovery, Dany insisted the others join her for a sausage. Her handmaids wolfed theirs down giggling and grinning, though the men of her khas sniffed at the grilled meat suspiciously. “They taste different than I remember,” Dany said after her first few bites.

“In Pentos, I make them with pork,” the old woman said, “but all my pigs died on the Dothraki sea. These are made of horsemeat, Khaleesi, but I spice them the same.”

“Oh.” Dany felt disappointed, but Quaro liked his sausage so well he decided to have another one, and Rakharo had to outdo him and eat three more, belching loudly. Dany giggled.

“You have not laughed since your brother the Khal Rhaggat was crowned by Drogo,” said Irri. “It is good to see, Khaleesi.”

Dany smiled shyly. It was sweet to laugh. She felt half a girl again.

~

She did take a dozen flasks of scented oils, the perfumes of her childhood; she had only to close her eyes and sniff them and she could see the big house with the red door once more.

AGOT Daenerys IV

Every khal had his bloodriders. At first Dany had thought of them as a kind of Dothraki Kingsguard, sworn to protect their lord, but it went further than that. Jhiqui had taught her that a bloodrider was more than a guard; they were the khal’s brothers, his shadows, his fiercest friends. “Blood of my blood,” Drogo called them, and so it was; they shared a single life. The ancient traditions of the horselords demanded that when the khal died, his bloodriders died with him, to ride at his side in the night lands. If the khal died at the hands of some enemy, they lived only long enough to avenge him, and then followed him joyfully into the grave. In some khalasars, Jhiqui said, the bloodriders shared the khal’s wine, his tent, and even his wives, though never his horses. A man’s mount was his own.

Daenerys was glad that Khal Drogo did not hold to those ancient ways. She should not have liked being shared. And while old Cohollo treated her kindly enough, the others frightened her; Haggo, huge and silent, often glowered as if he had forgotten who she was, and Qotho had cruel eyes and quick hands that liked to hurt. He left bruises on Doreah’s soft white skin whenever he touched her, and sometimes made Irri sob in the night. Even his horses seemed to fear him.

Yet they were bound to Drogo for life and death, so Daenerys had no choice but to accept them. And sometimes she found herself wishing her father had been protected by such men. In the songs, the white knights of the Kingsguard were ever noble, valiant, and true, and yet King Aerys had been murdered by one of them, the handsome boy they now called the Kingslayer, and a second, Ser Barristan the Bold, had gone over to the Usurper. She wondered if all men were as false in the Seven Kingdoms. When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard. ~

“Please, bring me one of the dragon’s eggs.”

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. She liked to hold them. They were so beautiful, and sometimes just being close to them made her feel stronger, braver, as if somehow she were drawing strength from the stone dragons locked inside.

She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her ... as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. “You are the dragon,” Dany whispered to him, “the true dragon. I know it. I know it.” And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home.

AGOT Daenerys III

“Have you forgotten who you are? Look at you. Look at you!”

Dany did not need to look. She was barefoot, with oiled hair, wearing Dothraki riding leathers and a painted vest given her as a bride gift. She looked as though she belonged here. Viserys was soiled and stained in city silks and ringmail.

~

“What do you pray for, Ser Jorah?” she asked him.

“Home,” he said. His voice was thick with longing.

“I pray for home too,” she told him, believing it.

Ser Jorah laughed. “Look around you then, Khaleesi.”

But it was not the plains Dany saw then. It was King’s Landing and the great Red Keep that Aegon the Conqueror had built. It was Dragonstone where she had been born. In her mind’s eye they burned with a thousand lights, a fire blazing in every window. In her mind’s eye, all the doors were red.

AGOT Daenerys II

Dany had never felt so alone as she did seated in the midst of that vast horde. Her brother had told her to smile, and so she smiled until her face ached and the tears came unbidden to her eyes. She did her best to hide them, knowing how angry Viserys would be if he saw her crying, terrified of how Khal Drogo might react. Food was brought to her, steaming joints of meat and thick black sausages and Dothraki blood pies, and later fruits and sweetgrass stews and delicate pastries from the kitchens of Pentos, but she waved it all away. Her stomach was a roil, and she knew she could keep none of it down.

There was no one to talk to. Khal Drogo shouted commands and jests down to his bloodriders, and laughed at their replies, but he scarcely glanced at Dany beside him. They had no common language. Dothraki was incomprehensible to her, and the khal knew only a few words of the bastard Valyrian of the Free Cities, and none at all of the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. She would even have welcomed the conversation of Illyrio and her brother, but they were too far below to hear her.

So she sat in her wedding silks, nursing a cup of honeyed wine, afraid to eat, talking silently to herself.

AGOT Daenerys I

When he was gone, Dany went to her window and looked out wistfully on the waters of the bay. The square brick towers of Pentos were black silhouettes outlined against the setting sun. Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo’s manse.

Somewhere beyond the sunset, across the narrow sea, lay a land of green hills and flowered plains and great rushing rivers, where towers of dark stone rose amidst magnificent blue-grey mountains, and armored knights rode to battle beneath the banners of their lords. The Dothraki called that land Rhaesh Andahli, the land of the Andals. In the Free Cities, they talked of Westeros and the Sunset Kingdoms. Her brother had a simpler name. “Our land,” he called it. The words were like a prayer with him. If he said them enough, the gods were sure to hear. “Ours by blood right, taken from us by treachery, but ours still, ours forever. You do not steal from the dragon, oh, no. The dragon remembers.”

And perhaps the dragon did remember, but Dany could not. She had never seen this land her brother said was theirs, this realm beyond the narrow sea. These places he talked of, Casterly Rock and the Eyrie, Highgarden and the Vale of Arryn, Dorne and the Isle of Faces, they were just words to her. Viserys had been a boy of eight when they fled King’s Landing to escape the advancing armies of the Usurper, but Daenerys had been only a quickening in their mother’s womb.

Yet sometimes Dany would picture the way it had been, so often had her brother told her the stories. The midnight flight to Dragonstone, moonlight shimmering on the ship’s black sails. Her brother Rhaegar battling the Usurper in the bloody waters of the Trident and dying for the woman he loved. The sack of King’s Landing by the ones Viserys called the Usurper’s dogs, the lords Lannister and Stark. Princess Elia of Dorne pleading for mercy as Rhaegar’s heir was ripped from her breast and murdered before her eyes. The polished skulls of the last dragons staring down sightlessly from the walls of the throne room while the Kingslayer opened Father’s throat with a golden sword.

She had been born on Dragonstone nine moons after their flight, while a raging summer storm threatened to rip the island fastness apart. They said that storm was terrible. The Targaryen fleet was smashed while it lay at anchor, and huge stone blocks were ripped from the parapets and sent hurtling into the wild waters of the narrow sea. Her mother had died birthing her, and for that her brother Viserys had never forgiven her.

She did not remember Dragonstone either. They had run again, just before the Usurper’s brother set sail with his new-built fleet. By then only Dragonstone itself, the ancient seat of their House, had remained of the Seven Kingdoms that had once been theirs. It would not remain for long. The garrison had been prepared to sell them to the Usurper, but one night Ser Willem Darry and four loyal men had broken into the nursery and stolen them both, along with her wet nurse, and set sail under cover of darkness for the safety of the Braavosian coast.

She remembered Ser Willem dimly, a great grey bear of a man, half-blind, roaring and bellowing orders from his sickbed. The servants had lived in terror of him, but he had always been kind to Dany. He called her “Little Princess” and sometimes “My Lady,” and his hands were soft as old leather. He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. That was when they lived in Braavos, in the big house with the red door. Dany had her own room there, with a lemon tree outside her window. After Ser Willem had died, the servants had stolen what little money they had left, and soon after they had been put out of the big house. Dany had cried when the red door closed behind them forever.

 [...] “We will have it all back someday, sweet sister,” he would promise her. Sometimes his hands shook when he talked about it. “The jewels and the silks, Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms, all they have taken from us, we will have it back.” Viserys lived for that day. All that Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.

~

“Those three are Drogo’s bloodriders, there,” he said. “By the pillar is Khal Moro, with his son Rhogoro. The man with the green beard is brother to the Archon of Tyrosh, and the man behind him is Ser Jorah Mormont.”

The last name caught Daenerys. “A knight?”

“No less.” Illyrio smiled through his beard. “Anointed with the seven oils by the High Septon himself.”

“What is he doing here?” she blurted.

“The Usurper wanted his head,” Illyrio told them. “Some trifling affront. He sold some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night’s Watch. Absurd law. A man should be able to do as he likes with his own chattel.”

“I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done,” her brother said. Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs.

She was still looking at this strange man from the homeland she had never known when Magister Illyrio placed a moist hand on her bare shoulder.

~

“I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.”

“Home?” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost.

Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know ...” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes.

[bitchiha]

Can I get a Naruto, Harry Potter and Marvel ship please? I'm average height with hazel eyes and long, dark-brown hair. I'm sarcastic, stubborn, laid-back, down-to-earth and very open-minded. I love reading, writing, listening to music and taking naps. I love animals, nature, the winter and the fall. I daydream a lot and I'm terrible at social situations (unless I'm really comfortable with the people that are with me). Thank you so much!

Voila!

I ship you with...

Shikamaru Nara!

When he first meets you he’s already like 0-0 wow pretty, but he doesn’t say that of course. He likes that you’re not loud or overbearing, but at the same time you’re not too quiet. You won’t let yourself get pushed around by anyone and you’re also pretty sarcastic, which is a bonus because that means you’ll get each others humour.

One day when he’s walking around the village and he sees you laying on the roof of your house. He was kinda curious as to what you were doing, so he goes up there to check and it turns out your cloud watching. You make some sarcastic comment at it him which he’ll chuckle at, but lay down next to you anyways and watch the clouds with you. Then it kinda all goes downhill from there.

He’ll like lazy things you do together like laying on the grass and cloud watching or more like he cloud watches while you go walk around looking at all the animals in the forest. He likes when you daydream because you look cute when you do it and it’s also an opportunity for him to tease you, but don’t be afraid to be snide back, he lowkey likes it.

WILL TAKE NAPS WITH YOU 24/7!! Like you two may not have been planning to have a nap, but you both wanted one so why not? Sometimes you both won’t get anything done tbh

Will complain about going on little nature walks or exploring for animals, but he secretly likes it. He will definitely make you rest periodically for ‘cloud watching breaks.’ Since your both really go with the flow and down to earth, your dates are more spontaneous. Like he’ll knock on your door and ask if you wanna get some barbecue, or you’ll knock on his door and say it’s a perfect day for a walk. You two can listen to music together while you’re on walks or cloud watching. He thinks his music taste is superior though and will always want the aux cord.

Bonus if can bring you cloud watching and you’ll read a book instead, putting your head on his lap as you do so. He just lives for the little quiet moments like that and will definitely make a routine of asking to cloud watch with him. Also likes if you just talk to him while you’re together like that. It can be about your book, about a new song you like or a decent mission you went on. He just lives for your voice.

Will wanna play Shogi with you, he likes that you really put an effort into the game. You may not be the best, but you’re trying and that’s all that matters. It also really boosts his ego everytime he beats you at Shogi because he wants to make sure you know he’s really smart.

Thinks that both your awkwardness with social situations and your daydreaming are really amusing. He won’t tease you too much about daydreaming all the time because you look pretty when you do it and he doesn’t wanna deter you from it. However, he will get a real kick out of your awkwardness though. Like he won’t be a bitch about it because he wants you to be comfortable, so he’ll try and ease your stress. But beware, if you do something embarrassing or stupid by accident he will laugh his ass off.

You can definitely push him around a bit too. Like you’ll only take the lazy shit 50% of the time. Plus, if you didn’t push him around he would never do anything, so don’t feel bad about it. You’re doing him a favour.

Remus Lupin! (marauders era)

Andrew Garfield is his face claim I don’t give a fuck that’s his face claim fight me

He’s probably been crushing on your for timeee. Like since first year time. Despite your own awkwardness in social situations he’s still too nervous to talk to you.

It isn’t till like fourth year, when you’re hanging around the black lake trying to find the giant squid, that Remus Lupin actually approaches you. Sirius, James and Peter were all hiding behind a tree waiting to hear what your answer would be. They had noticed Remus’ interest in you since first year and they teased him endlessly about it. It wasn’t until this year that they actually managed to get him to ask you out.

When he comes up to you his face is all red and his hands are clammy. You’re really nice to him though, minus the fact that you were a little bit awkward around him. I mean you had little conversations before about animals (you were always reading books about them) and your classes. You were more than happy to hear him ask you out on a date to Hogsmeade though as the feelings he had for you were mutual. That begins the start of a cute and wholesome relationship.

Since you like nature so much, you usually end up lounging outside on lazy school days. Like if its spring and the weather is amazing, you’ll lay on the grass together and read. He’ll love it if you read to him, or sit in his lap so you can both read the book. If it’s fall, you two would walk around the castles courtyard and watch the leaves fall and crunch them with the soles of your shoes. You would probably listen to music on a Walkman Sirius smuggled in for him as you walked around.

If you’re dating a marauder, you basically become one. So that means you’re involved in a lot of antics. You fit in pretty well, you’ve got that sarcasm to bark back whenever Sirius or James want to get sassy. You’ve also got the stubbornness that keeps their plans going, if the prank fails the first time, it will just have to be even better the next time. They’ll love you like a sister and will never allow you to get introuble for their pranks.

Will also love to read the works you’ve written yourself. He will be super supportive and even come up with ideas for you to write about and they’re surprisingly good! Can proofread your work if you want him too bc we know he’s smart asf

When you find out about his ‘condition’ he’s embarrassed, but you reassure him that you aren’t afraid of him and he won’t hurt you. Sometimes he can be too self concious and you’ll have to knock some sense into him.

Will die of happiness if you buy him chocolates. Like make it a routine thing where a certain day of the week, or month you would give him chocolate. He will brag about it constantly to the other marauders. He’ll like whip out the chocolate and be like “oh yah, look at this? Wanna know who got it for me? Y/n!” And there just like: he does this every fucking time

Peter Parker!

So you meet him at school, I can see you being a friend of Michelle’s. You’re definitely more approachable than she is, so he talks to you more and more and eventually Michelle just starts saying “go out already” when ever you two talk. So then he finally works up the courage to.

He’ll come up to you after school at your locker and he’ll give you a flower or something bc he knows you like nature. He’s so nervous when he actually asks you and you can see his face get red and he’s sweaty. You say yes ofc and he’s so happy. Anyways, the first date will be at Central Park bc that’s like the only form of nature he can find in New York. Then he’ll take you to that Thai place he usually goes to with Aunt May.

After that you two become inseparable. You’ll come over to his place and read while him and Ned build their LEGO Star Wars shit. Sometimes you’ll help but other times you’ll read or watch them.

Peter can be a sassy little shit, but guess what? so can you. Will have sass offs of sarcastic remarks for a good half an hour.

You’ll find out his identity as Spider-Man at the same time as Ned. Like the two of you were supposed to hang out at Peters and finish the LEGO Death Star and then spider man crawls through the window and your both like: bitch wtf

Anyways he will 10/10 swing you around New York with him. You’ll probably lay on the roofs of a building and watch the sun go down. He will web a lil hammock for you two to lay on and it would just be so chill.

Likes to listen to music with you while you’re on the subway together. You two are just commuting to school and whips the AirPods out, one for you and one for him. The two of you will alter in who will play the music that day. Also will get sandwiches with you after school and treat you everytime, even if he’s borderline broke.

Will brag about you to aunt may 24/7 and will get all his romantic advice from her. So sometimes the romantics gestures he makes are a little sappy but you can tell he’s trying so you don’t care. Since you really like nature he’ll put an effort into doing things that involve it with you. Like you’ll go out of the city to pumpkin patches in the fall or in the winter you could have a snowball fight on the way to school and in the summer you’ll go on walks in the parks a lot.

Will also brag about you to the avengers and show you off through pictures on his phone and they’ll be like: bruh we get it shut up twerp. But they ship you guys anyways so.. and when he’s on missions he misses you a lot so expect him to ft at odd times. Like he’s fighting a bad guy but he misses you? Expect a ft call. He’s on a top secret mission that is deeply classified? Expect a ft call.

Also he will send you memes 24/7 and expects memes in return. It’s common courtesy, jheez ppl.

[justapayneaway]

I think this heavy and exhausting Liam era started after he went public with his „gf” and I won’t change my mind about this theory. Remember how he was in April or July? Happy, carefree, smiling all the time - compare this to what we’ve been getting since he was first papped with M. I know we have no idea what’s going on behind closed doors but we can read a lot just from Liam’s body language. This whole „relationship” is just toxic and takes it toll not only on Liam but on his fans too 🤷‍♀️

I totally agree with you!

Liam’s body language is very telling. Even when he is talking you can see some cracks in his expression and gestures. He was highly media trained, but you can see some things. 

From like April to July it was indeed a blessing! We got regular content, we was working, he was at events having fun, etc. He was smiling a lot and we got the most pure weekend in Coachella! The HUGO deal came out and he was so damn excited about his clothes. He even seemed excited for new music! 

After august it went a bit downhill, didn’t it? It all became very fabricated and he looks more and more tired. Sure we still get some good/genuine moments, but most of the time things are just so dark. 

Hopefully the future will bring good things for him! He deserves it the most

[edwxrdkenway]

Anime Recommendations part 2

guess who’s back for more anime recommendations. some asked for more so here I am. part 1 can be found here btw if you’re new

Note that I only listed underrated or forgotten animes that I watched and enjoyed every minute of it and you may be too

91 Days

Lets start with some heavy stuff y'all

91 Days is set during the Prohibition era and tells the story of the protagonist Angelo.

As a child Angelo has witnessed the death of his family who all have been slaughtered by a mafia family. Losing everything he holds dear, he leaves both his name and hometown behind, adopting the new identity of Avilio Bruno. Years later he finally has his chance for revenge when he receives a mysterious letter prompting him to return to his home town and to kill all who are at fault for the tragedy of his family.

(idk I thought that this one is famous but turned out that only a few watched it?? that one is so good idk ??)

Zankyou no Terror/Terror in Resonance

(Idk why people thing this is underrated?? That one watched almost everyone when it aired??)

This one is also a heavy anime so be prepared. (I’m not joking be prepared)

Tokyo has been hit by a terrorist attack that has devastated the city and The only evidence of the culprits is a cryptic video uploaded to the Internet. Unbeknownst to the authorities is that the terrorist masterminds are two teenaged boys: Nine and Twelve who should not even exist. Their plan: to "wake up the world" with their heinous plans of destruction, with their fingers on the trigger.

btw im not pluffing their names are nine, twelve and one is even called five

Death Parade

Imagine that after death, there is no heaven or hell, only a bar. 

Yeah you read right a bar. A bar that stands between reincarnation and oblivion. There, Decim will challenge the deceased to a random game in which his/her/they fate of either ascending into reincarnation or falling into the void will be wagered. Whether it's bowling, darts, air hockey you name it, each person's true nature will be revealed in a ghastly parade of death and memories, dancing to the whims of the bar's master. Welcome to Quindecim my friend.

(BTW do not be fooled by the opening if you decided to watch this, I warned you)

Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun/My Little Monster

Ok here some light stuff ^^ Tnkk is a shoujo and one of my fav shoujo tbh.

Shizuku Mizutani, (who kinda looks like Maka from Soul Eater somehow) is only caring about her grades but her cold view of life begins to change when she meets Haru Yoshida, a troublemaker. Sounds like those typical story lines but behold. He’s not much different from her. He also understands little about human nature and does not have any friends. Much to her surprise, he proclaims that she will be his friend and immediately confesses his feelings towards her upon meeting her. 

This one is very funny and not that cliché shoujo you would expect and I binge watched it in a day and would recommend 11/10 bc Haru is a precious cinnamon roll who should be protected at all costs

I mean just look at him-

Psycho Pass

Another heavy one (I think I have another type lol). 

This anime is set in the 22nd century where the Sibyl System, a very powerful network of psychometric scanners, actively measures the minds and mentalities of civilised populations. With other words if you are a bad person you do not go to jail, nah you will be eliminated.

Into this world steps our main heroine Akane Tsunemori. However, as she works alongside bae I mean Shinya Kougami, she soon learns that the Sibyl System's judgments are not as perfect as her fellow Inspectors assume. 

This got 2 seasons and a movie and let me tell you you better watch this because this one will get you hooked !!

Tokyo Ravens

Romance? Check. Magic? Check. Mystery? Check.  Very underrated? Double Check.

Onmyodou magic was once a powerful technique which was used by the Japanese during World War II. Later, infamous onmyoji Yakou Tsuchimikado performed a ritual, which goes horribly wrong and the result of this becomes what is now known as the "Great Spiritual Disaster", an incident which haunts the entire Japanese continent to date. 

Our boy Harutora, who is a member of the Tsuchimikado's branch family once promise Natsume, the heir of the Tsuchimikado's main family and Yakou’s reincarnation, to protect her as her familiar. However, turned out Harutora has no talent for magic and chooses to live a normal life instead. But when a prominent member of the Onmyou Agency attempts to recreate the same experiment which led to Japan's downfall, he decides to make good on his word and fight by Natsume's side.

Your lie in April/Shigatsu wa Kimi no Uso

Here I introduce you to a masterpiece that will ruin you. Like literally ruin you. I'm not even exaggerating, I told my best friend to watch this and she did not talk to me for 2 days.

Our boy Kousei Arima was strictly taught how to play the piano and meticulously follow the score by his mother, to the point where he dominated every competition he entered with ease and he became one of the best piano players. However, after his mother suddenly dies everything went downhill and had to quit the music industry. 

Two years later, Kousei lives a monotonous life with his childhood friends supporting him. But he still  continues to cling to music, although performing is still an impossibility for him. This is until his unexpected encounter with our girl Kaori Miyazono, a violinist who performs freely without the dictations of a score. A story of friendship, love, music, and a single lie, Kousei's life begins to change and gain color as Kaori helps him to take up music again.

(note: if you decide to watch this pls do not hate me)

Boku dake ga Inai Machi/Erased

Another dark one nice. Our protagonist Satoru Fujinuma has a special gift. He finds himself sent back several minutes before an accident occurs. He has taken advantage of this mysterious phenomenon to save many lives. 

However, when he is wrongfully accused of murdering someone close to him, he is sent back to the past once again but 18 years in the past. Soon, he realizes that the murder may be connected to the abduction and killing of one of his classmates Kayo Hinazuki, that took place when he was a child and he tries to prevent the death of his classmate while protecting those he cares about in the present.

Idk why I decided to watch this but let me tell ya my poor heart was not ready while watching this. I recommend this 11/10.

Kyoukai no Kanata/Beyond the Boundary

ok so pls drop everything what your doing and go watch this if you didn’t. pls do yourself a favor.

KNK is about Mirai who is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. Yeah you read right blood is their weapon. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing creatures called youmu, who are basically manifestations of negative human emotions. One day,  Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. 

I’m not biased I swear but this anime is so aesthetically pleasing im livin-

Ok so thats it. Like last time I did not include popular anime series that like 99% of us watch/ed like boku no hero academia/my hero academia, tokyo ghoul, gintama, satsuriko no tenshi/angels of death, cells at work, black clover etc.

[ilcaeryx]

Limelight: Chapter 2 [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: In their ingenuity, villains spurred the competence and excellence of heroes with unexpected consequences. Before, most heroes could focus solely on combating villany and make a living out of it. Today, a well-established hero is multifunctional: a protector, entertainer and idol in one person. Engaging the public the way a celebrity would is a common strategy, leaving the tabloid industry flourishing and eager to make a killing.

Number 2 hero Bakugou "Ground Zero" Katsuki refuses to indulge others' fantasties... though he'll make an exception for you.

TAGS: Reader-Insert, Idol-like Heroes, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Vacation, Long-Distance Relationship, Hero Dating Civilian, Influences from K-pop, Comedy, Aged-Up Character(s), Idol Variety

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Clickbait

Okay, the last sentence in the prologue was definitely hyperbolic; a 'device' (if you can even call it that) utilized by the 'author' (read: barely sentient being) to introduce a spark of curiosity in the readers. In the fast-paced modern world there's little time to waste in reading about one singular event when these interconnected societies over the globe cause hundreds, if not thousands of events. More often than not, the reader will stop mid-scrolling and raise an eyebrow over a particularly bizarre occurrence. If you want the entire 0,5% of a person's daily attention-span, an ounce of deception will do the trick.

  In my case, if I've played my cards right, that last sentence interested you and hopefully you'll remember it some fifteen chapters from now. I guarantee you it'll happen.

We're all in agreement that clickbait and hyperbole are trashy ways of spreading news and that many events undeservingly receive more attention than they should. After all, at times those titles prove to be downright false.

  However, it wouldn't be completely untrue to state that clickbait and hyperbole forced Bakugou Katsuki out of his residence into a bullet train speeding southwards late at night. Knowing Katsuki, there's no way he'd ever admit to it either. He never had cared much in keeping appearances, admittedly, yet there was something intimately disturbing in acknowledging that the constant pursuing of the tabloid writers bothered him. It was not a confession he would bring up to anyone. Not Kirishima, not his parents nor coworkers.

  Much like any other young adult in this era, Katsuki repeatedly turned the screen of his phone on and off with such compulsion and fervor that would impress professional Guitar Hero players. His phone was new and barely customized, which is why he constantly had to swipe away the existence of every NEWSFLASH: HERO X DID Y announcement that popped up on his home-screen. Earlier today a severe flood had forced a platoon of heroes into action and his phone had gone absolutely batshit. Honestly, who gave a fuck? Unless you lived there, it wasn't necessary. Once he had settled into his vacation house, he would uninstall whichever app was responsible.

  Until then, he'd just keep it off. No one would call him this early.

  Those motherfuckers. How'd they find me?

  If it hadn't been for the weak dawnlight catching the lenses of the cameras, Katsuki would have dismissed the shantily clad trio as tourists. Bathing in sunlight by the train-station exit, the human leeches held their big-ass cameras like they were their first-born child. Quite literally cradling their ticket to a paycheck.

  Question was if he originally was their target or if they were snooping around for another celebrity.

  Katsuki slowly pulled up his dark hoodie over his hair and re-adjusted his plain mouth mask, making sure it reached half-way up his nose. He wouldn't see shit with sunglasses on, so he didn't bother picking them out of his jacket pocket. It was fucking annoying to walk around clad like a rapist or a robber, but rough clothes together with an aggressive stride usually kept people away. The last thing he needed was any exposure at all - he wanted to lay low. A gathering of paparazzi around his vacation house together with fans or curious people would be an unfortunate test of patience.

  Fuck, that would probably destroy his career at this point.

  Walking through the open-air train-station while staying undercover felt contradictory, like a gazelle hiding in plain sight. As he passed by the unmentionables, he repeatedly convinced himself that it wasn't him they were after. He walked too fast to hear anything properly, though he didn't hear any camera shutters, which pleased him. By the time he had boarded the small bus to the village, the nitroglycerine that coated his palms had soaked through his bus ticket.

 Shirahagi village was fine, he guessed.

  In reality, it was an overgrown, chaotic mess exposed to the weather; blooming vegetation and simple houses were clustered in an irregular fashion, creating a labyrinth of low visibility and shadows. The main road that led from the lackluster bus-station downhill ended in a smaller plaza, he could see. Part of the village was completely submerged under the dense tree-crowns, from his view on top of the hill. Wherever his place was, he couldn't tell.

  A succinct summary: it was an utter clusterfuck.

  Katsuki knew that somewhere in these tangled roads there was a mom-and-pops-style grocery store. Hell, it was possibly small enough that he would devour their entire sortiment in the two weeks he was to spend here.

  Other than that, he didn't know shit. Prior to yesterday afternoon, he had never heard of Shirahagi. Through a game of telephone, one of his old ex-classmates (that he didn't remember at all, coincidentally) spoke to another and so on until Alien Girl messaged him to check it out yesterday. She had written that it was a pretty cool place but he suspected that she either had ties to the old lady that offered to rent out a house in an extremely short notice or that she had misheard the name.

  It seemed like a calm and desolate place, so he had struck a deal.

  For now, this was all he needed.

   Obscured behind a crescent-shaped road was the old lady's house. In contrast to the untamed flora towering above it, the residence was a well-polished gemstone; the hedges were neatly cut, the facade in decent shape and it seemed like the walls wouldn't cave in from a slight breeze. Frankly, it'd be worth the money if his house was similar.

  Not that appearance particularly mattered, but he didn't want to freeze to death in case of broken walls or windows or whatever.

  A back curved by age was hovering above a flowerbed, knees digging into the ground. Mrs Takahashi. Katsuki let go of his luggage and held onto the metal fence, inclining himself over it.

  "Lady!" he said, voice loud and clear. "I'm Katsuki, the guy that called yesterday. I'm here for the vacation house."

  Mrs Takahashi struggled to stand up, using her hands to push herself back on two feet. Her legs shook enough that Katsuki tensed his shoulders.

  "I was wondering when you would drop around," Mrs Takahashi shuffled around, removing her gardening gloves by the fingertips. The old lady had a weathered face, like a granite wall cracking up, and she didn't look too impressed as she eyed him. Perhaps she didn't recognize him.

  Katsuki shrugged lightly, not knowing what to say.

  "My hearing isn't what it used to be anymore; I could barely hear you over the phone. New technology these days, they don't make anything like they oughtta." Mrs Takahashi walked up to him, reaching out her palm towards him. Oddy enough, Katsuki impression of her was beetle-like. With her back bent over, the purple wool jacket was kind of like her carapace. Her head and neck were sunken towards her chest and her limbs were slim, like those of an insect.

  In fact, he was calling it now. Her Quirk definitely had something to do with beetles, or at least insects in general.

  She harkled her throat and wriggled her fingers. Katsuki pressed his lips and reluctantly reached out to shake her hand. When he grasped her hand it simply remained limpless, a sloppy, unenthusiastic welcome to Shirahagi.

"I don't want your hand, son, I want your identification. My niece and nephew have told me all about these scammers that are going around nowadays."

  His eyes narrowed very slightly.

  I see how it's gonna be.

  This could turn out nasty, he thought as he retrieved his ID out of his wallet, handling it to her. Everyone had a short description of their Quirks along with the usual information on their ID-cards. Even if she didn't know about his profession, the Quirk description 'secretes nitroglycerine through perspiration and ignites it into explosions' was uncommon. It wasn't hard to find out the name of a hero just by searching for a Quirk description.

  Mrs Takahashi seemed at peace, at least. A mild humm erupted from her and she gave him the ID back.

  He quickly put it away in his wallet.

  "Be mindful of the attic," she said and dangled a key in front of him. "If I hear you've harassed my ghosts you'll end up regretting it."

  After this poor display of social interaction, he could finally move into his vacation house.

  Thus began Bakugou Katsuki's two day barricade against all of Shirahagi and the only objectively safe and correct choice he made the next 6 months.

If you liked this, consider throwing me a like/reblog/follow!

[stonyprompts]

Back in time - MIT done right

The avengers movie reenactment night is cancelled when Tony and Steve do a scene from The Last Unicorn (Bruce's idea and he plays the part of Schmendrick and Steve of course is the last unicorn and Tony is Molly Grue) When Tony says these lines: "And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?" Tony gets too into it, really into it he can't finish the rest because his life events hit him at full force. Everyone feels kind of awful, especially Steve. If Tony had gone further and read the full lines, Steve would have known that it's alright. But since he does not, it all goes downhill from there. Time passes but Steve can't let it go. He keeps wondering about the what ifs. What if he was there for Tony as a mentor, gave him the guidance he needed to steer clear of rash decisions and his blind trust in the wrong people. After all, even a genius can be wrong, a young one at that with too much leeway. For some reason or other one of the villains from Asgard comes and it's the old punch first as questions later, unfortunately this villain is of the Loki variety, likes to screw with their minds. While they put out the fire so to speak the villain mentions something about time traveling but for short period of time. Steve gets it in his head and asks Thor about it, Thor makes an offhand comment that it's common for it to happen but it's short lived for one day only and if Steve is interested.

Steve of course is interested, wants to travel back to his time, but Thor puts a stop there because going back in time relates to people that you know in the present time. Steve is kind of crushed, but he says ok, yeah, he now has an idea and decides to go back to have a once in  lifetime chat with a young Tony and give him the "do the right thing" speech and tell him to be cautious. Lo and behold things go semi-right, he goes back in time to the Tony MIT era and he does meet a young, trusting and impressionable Tony. Steve gives Tony a speech and thinks he can go back to the present, but not so, somehow, Steve is stuck. A week passes and it's a real dilemma. So, now he is a man out of time again, but this time he is from the future. How mind boggling is that? Very, so what does he do, he hopes to pass the time and wait until the Avengers or Tony figure out and get him back. He enrolls to MIT (he might finally get his art degree) art program and puts on the story that he is there for his second bachelor's He also befriends Tony as a friend and mentor. He's actually enjoying himself, learning about history but also engaging in conversation with Tony about future topics. They hit it off.

So well in fact that Steve is kind of enamored by the sweetness of this Tony. This brash kid, whose eyes sparkle when he talks, who is generous as the present Tony is, and who doesn’t put himself down so much. Steve is helping with that (it’s a work in progress). Time passes and somehow they gravitate towards each other. They are involved romantically and it’s great. It’s all Steve ever wanted, a happiness he thought he would never obtain. And then the dark thoughts happen after he’s been there for 10 yrs, he knows that certain events can be prevented. He knows that hey, they can’t find his body because that would cause an issue, so does he let his iced self-remain as is. Maybe, a definite yes. To actually cause your own demise for your present happiness and solve the time line issue.  Without a second thought he does this. Afghanistan does not happen, Tony does not suffer. Does Steve admit who he is to Tony, well yes after 15+ yrs of being together he does. Is it going to go well? No, but it’s not too bad. He and Tony devise a plan for the Avengers and Iron Man. It works out, there is no civil war.

[aion-rsa]

Screenwriter Ed Solomon on Soderbergh, Noir, and How Bill & Ted Saved His Career

https://ift.tt/2Vq97R3

Steven Soderbergh’s noir crime feature, No Sudden Move, is set in 1954 Detroit: back when automakers drove the city and mobsters rotated their tires. This isn’t just another heist movie from the director of Ocean’s 11, even though it centers on a big score and hosts an impressive cast. Don Cheadle and Benicio Del Toro play two small-time criminals hired to steal a document which is very valuable to some powerful people. It’s a big-ticket item which can revolutionize the auto industry, and the price keeps going up.

For the movie, Soderbergh colludes with the Big Four Automakers to cloud the atmosphere. The caper careens through a smoggy set of turns, picking up passengers like Ray Liotta, Jon Hamm, David Harbour, Brendan Fraser, and Bill Duke (in killer shades) for a wild ride downhill. It all stops with Mr. Big, played with beneficent malignancy by Matt Damon.

Nothing is what it seems in No Sudden Move. It was written by Ed Solomon, a veteran best known for his work on Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Charlie’s Angels, Men in Black, and The Garry Shandling Show. And Solomon spoke with us about exploring dark themes, working with Soderbergh, and how he intends to continue changing how stories can be told.

Den of Geek: I really, really enjoyed No Sudden Move, and I agree, ulterior motives are sexy.

Ed Solomon: That’s very funny. I remember the moment I wrote that [line] and I was like, “Is this just me? And is this an indication of something maybe not so great about my personality?” I actually thought that, I literally thought that, and it’s funny. You’re the first person who’s ever said that. That’s really hilarious.

It made me ask the same questions about myself. Was that the creative key to the script? 

Yes. The drive that got me excited about every character at every moment was that they had a secret motive. Every character had a secret motive that they weren’t letting on, to the other characters. And that’s what gave it its energy for me as a writer. It gives a kind of excitement, because what happens then is the actors don’t get to just act with so much subtext. But as a writer, you get to, you know that you’re writing people that are saying one thing but thinking something else, and that’s where all the energy is for me as a writer.

When you were first brought together with Soderbergh, how much of a story was there, or was it just a concept?

We had a concept. We wanted to do just a spare, noir drama for Don [Cheadle], and maybe a couple of other people. The concept was some guys get called together to pull off a little heist that just goes drastically sideways. And are these people? And where is it set? We decided on Detroit. We were thinking about what era does it take place in? We were thinking maybe the ’50s. And that led to Detroit, because ’50s Detroit is just so American, and a lot of things were changing in Detroit at that time. There were fascinating things happening, and there was a lot of racial tension, and the city itself was remodeling itself in the way that America was remodeling itself. It was going from trolleys and cities to freeways and suburbs.

A lot of communities were getting displaced. And knowing we were writing, that Don was doing this, it was like, “What’s going to give Don’s character the courage of his convictions?” It just seemed like the right backdrop for it. So really we came in at a concept and then started throwing story ideas around together for a few days. Then I went off to do my outline. And then I gave him a beat sheet, which he gave me the thumbs up on, and then I had a few ideas for the end. Like the big seven-page aria that comes toward the end of the film. That was an add after Steven read the beat sheet. He’s like, “Let’s bring it to this kind of operatic conclusion, with these intersecting sectors of society.”

He gave me the not undaunting charge of, “Write a seven-page monologue.” I said, “Okay, I’ll do my best.” And then, he obviously read the draft and he had some notes. We did a revision, and the next rewrite we did was when we got the cast on. It was not one of those scripts that was constantly developed. That’s one of the great things about working with Steven. Also, I wrote it on spec, so I didn’t have to worry about studios giving notes or anything like that. Because again, I had Steven there, and Steven and I both knew how he was going to end up making the film. So we got to make it how we wanted to see it before giving it to the studio.

How do you personally get into the head space for a period piece?

Several ways. Yeah, I watched the movies, but really the bigger thing was going there. Going there and really being in the spaces that these people existed in at that time, those that are left in Detroit. Talking to people who were alive then. Spending time, there was an exhibit at the Detroit Public Library that a woman named Emily Kutil, had put together called “Black Bottom Street View.” They had taken all these photographs back in the ’50s of these neighborhoods that later got raised, and Emily recreated the experience of moving through, those neighborhoods, by using photographs in the library. She basically blew the photos up and you would walk down these aisles, which represented each.

I listened to music from the time I listened to people speaking from the time, I listened to recordings from the mid ’50s, in Detroit. I searched out as much as I could to get a tangible feel, a visceral feel. But at the end of the day, it’s about using all of these pieces to create an emotional space as a writer. I tend to write more from an emotional state than an intellectual state. So, once I could find myself in what felt like, the emotional frame of mind of each character, I found it easier to really be there in that time. And we had some very helpful consultants, as well. A man named Jamon Jordan is credited in the film, ironically and totally coincidentally, he’s an extra in the film. And his picture, he is in the frame that my screen credit is. My screen credit comes over his picture, which he and I [are] thrilled about.

Jamon runs an organization called the Black Scroll Network and they do walking tours of the African-American history of Detroit. He and I went through the script together, and of course Don and I went through the script together. I mean, every actor, we all went through the script together. But at every turn, it’s about trying to keep making it more authentic and more real, and more inhabited and more alive.

So you played Joey Biltmore in a 10th grade production of Guys and Dolls.

Whoa.

Reading that tweet made me have to ask you, what was it like being a staff writer on Laverne and Shirley?

Of course, it would make you think that. Oh my God, that’s amazing. Well, this is Den of Geek, after all. I could expect nothing less, then that kind of deep dive. That’s amazing.

Actually, here’s what’s funny. I will happily tell you about Laverne and Shirley in one second, but that experience on Guys and Dolls had more of an influence on the language of Bill and Ted. Meaning Damon Runyon, and that strange cadence and odd use of sometimes, somewhat anachronistic language was an influence for me. Not for [Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure co-writer Chris Matheson]. I asked Chris about it. I was like, “Were you into Damon Runyon as well, or was that just me?” And he’s like, “That was just you.” And I was like, “Oh.” That had more of an influence on the creation of Bill & Ted, for me, than anything else. More than surfer dialogue or valley talk, or stoner talk. Any of that, it actually was Damon Runyon to me, funnily enough. And it was because I had been in Guys and Dolls that I got into Damon Runyon.

But Laverne and Shirley, it’s a really interesting thing. It changed my life in many ways, but probably not the ways I would have thought it was going to change my life. It made me a professional writer, but I wasn’t great at it. In other words, I was in over my head with a bunch of real professional ’80s comedy writers, and I was a senior in college. I wasn’t quite ready. I had gone from writing jokes for comedians and writing plays that were performed at UCLA to being in a room of pros, and it was stressful and difficult, and I was still a senior and I didn’t get hired back into another sitcom. And in a way, I am really grateful.

At the time, I thought I had failed, because it took me about two years. Where I was doing standup again and writing jokes, and selling jokes, and writing for a game show, and doing anything I could to stay afloat, and borrowing money from my parents to live. I almost gave up, almost thought, “I’m my own worst nightmare. I’m a flash in the pan,” but had that not happened, I wouldn’t have approached Chris Matheson and said, “Hey, would you like to write something together?” And he, and I would not have written the Bill & Ted script, which is the thing that actually turned my career around and got me back on the map. It got both of us on the map, and then it relaunched my career from a different angle.

I think had I actually succeeded on Laverne and Shirley, in a certain way, I probably would have fried [out], as one of those ’80s TV writers, as those ’80s TV writers often did. Not just from drugs. But the environment itself – I don’t think was a super healthy one for a writer at that time. For me, at least. It was just a lot of competition, not the way I would want to be as a writer.

Plus, I think there’s a certain state of mind you have to maintain that I was unable to maintain. So, in a way, I attribute my failing out of Laverne and Shirley to the relaunching of my career in a way that was probably more appropriate for where I wanted to go. It was hard. It was a very stressful experience, and I never felt like I fit in. And I never felt like I could contribute comedically at the level that those people were. It took me about four years or five years to be able to feel comfortable in a writer’s room with other comedy writers.

And in the Garry Shandling writer’s room I met some of the funniest people I’d ever met in my life, and I could never get to the comedic level they could, but I was comfortable enough to be able to add whatever my two cents would be to any situation. And that room was much more fun. I think I had just grown up a bit.

Why does Bill & Ted continue to strike a chord?

I have asked myself that question because when it first came out, it was eviscerated by critics. It was pummeled. Every serious critic, and in particular, the non-serious critics. Because for the most part, they didn’t even let serious critics review it; they’d give it to their third- or fourth-year critics, and they just trashed it. So I was like, “Well, why did it sustain? Why did it not just last, but weirdly grow, over a few decades?”

Look, it started as the characters. It was how Chris and I, who originally played these characters just screwing around, but what Chris and I were always really attracted to in Bill & Ted, was this ebullience, this sweetness, this lightness of spirit and this sort of ‘yes!’ quality to them. They feel things deeply, but they adjust quickly and come up with a plan and move forward with the best, best, best of intentions at all times. That’s a really lovely place to inhabit, as a writer.

And then when the baton was passed to Alex [Winter] and Keanu [Reeves], they took it over so beautifully. And I think there is a beneficence of spirit, of kindness to the characters, a sweetness, that I think floated to the surface and kept Bill & Ted alive over the decades. And it did fine, it did well enough as the first film to warrant a second film, barely. It’s not like it did that well, but over time, people discovered it. And it’s what made it difficult to make a third movie, because there were no “numbers” to support it. “Why should we make a third movie? The first two didn’t do all that well.” It was more anecdotal. “But everywhere we go, people seem to know it, and people seem to want a sequel. And couldn’t we do it for them?”

It took John Wick getting where it was, but it also took the rise of social media to let audiences have a voice. So that when someone would say, “Is there going to be another Bill & Ted movie?” Then the studio finally started to see, or I should say the powers that be finally started to see, “Holy moly, there’s a lot of people out there that seem interested in this.” It took that, to get the movie made.

Going back to the tweet, when I read your responses, I thought you had a bit part on Kolchak. And then I found out that you were a real suspect on the Night Stalker case. Was that the worst review you ever got?

Well, that’s hilarious. Let me just put it this way. Being a suspect, which lasted only about 15 minutes and it was a misunderstanding. It was basically, my roommate’s car, which I had cosigned for, was stolen years later and taken to the scene. It was stolen by Richard Ramirez, it was still registered to my address and to me, I guess. So for 15 minutes, people were like, “Wait, is it you? You’re the prime suspect.” And then it was like, “Oh, wait, no, it’s not you. It’s not you, you’re asleep in your room, in Westwood and this murder took place 90 miles away.” But for a few minutes there, it was kind of weird and surreal.

But that was not even as bad as those initial reviews of Bill & Ted. I remember a review of Bill & Ted where the reviewer was reviewing a movie the following week, Friday the 13th, it was Jason Takes Manhattan. And the guy was like, “Here’s an idea. How about Jason Takes Bill and Ted?” I go, “Come on, dude. You don’t have to kill us again. You killed us last week, geez.”

It’s pretty funny because here in my office, somebody printed out one of the headlines. After I tweeted that, of course, I should have known that this thing was going to follow me in a way that I didn’t expect. Meaning when I tweeted it, I thought it was just kind of a funny anecdote. I didn’t expect the barrage of clickbait headlines saying things like “Bill and Ted writer was once suspected of being the Night Stalker killer.” Plus, for about two weeks, if you Googled Richard Ramirez and went to his Wikipedia page, my picture came up with it. It was funky. And then the headlines that they were doing were crazy. So people at my parents’ retirement community, friends of my parents, would be like, “What is this?” Because for people who aren’t actually reading beyond the clickbait, they’re looking at a picture of Richard Ramirez and a picture of me, saying I was a suspect along with him.

It was hilarious, and it was a little freaky. But of course after a week or two, the news cycle shifted, and you no longer found it. But for about a week, if you Googled me all you got was that I was a suspect in the Night Stalker [case]. It was not good. And I was just recently single, too. My girlfriend and I had broken up a month and a half earlier, and that meant if I was going to date someone and their friend was going, “Let me Google your date to see if I can find out anything about him,” it would not have boded well. It did not bode well, but it was pretty funny.

When you worked with Soderbergh for Mosaic, you were changing the way stories are delivered, and I want to know if you have any other plans to bend visual arts?

Yeah, I do. And we do. And we’re working on a new thing that I’m not allowed to get into any detail on, I’ve actually been asked not to. But it’s another thing that we’ve designed to be able to be told in various different styles. And what was the ultimate challenge of Mosaic was also the greatest gift of Mosaic. There was a moment when Steven and I looked at each other and went, “How often, especially when you’ve been doing this as long as we have, do you get to do something that is so challenging, that flexes so many muscles that you’ve never used before? That you can’t help but come out the other end of it, a better writer.” And that, to me, was one of the many great gifts of Mosaic.

One was working with Steven, which was an absolute high point, developing a relationship with him. Which led to No Sudden Move, which led to this new thing, which led to me bringing him on to help us get Bill and Ted Face the Music off the ground. He was an exec producer on that. So that was of course, one great thing, but just on a creative level. Having to design a story, where each character in the story has to be worthy of their own movie, because you’re also going to tell the story from their point of view, just like you can tell it from someone else’s point of view.

The notion that every villain is the hero of their own story, or every human is the central character of their own movie. That was really at work in Mosaic. It forced me to really upgrade how I thought about what I wrote. And it also was so difficult an endeavor, it took so long and it was so difficult and so invigorating that it made other writing seem easier. Because every decade or so, I really think a creative person has to really look at the work they’re doing and make sure that they’re not falling back on old habits or old tricks. Or, for sure as a writer, not getting into a mindset of, “Oh, I know how to do this.” I think that’s death for a writer.

I think, for me, the healthiest balance is that combination of confidence and insecurity. Not even confidence. Faith, I think is probably a better word. Like, “I don’t know if I can do this, but I think if I stay with it long enough, I’ll figure it out.” To me, that’s the sweet spot. No Sudden Move was a genre I’ve not written in and a tone I hadn’t written in. That alone was reason to do it, with a director I trusted and I really admire, and with whom I love working. For an actor, I’ve always wanted to work with? Don. That was like, “I’m going to do this and I’m going to work my ass off to get it right.” That’s that was my attitude on it. “And when I get out the other side of it, I want to be a better writer.”

And that’s my goal with everything, now. “When I get out the other side of this, I want to be a better writer than I was when I started it.”

No Sudden Move is a twist on noir, gangster, and industrial crime films. How did you come to the catalytic converter, and what research were you doing on the actual crime of it?

There’s always a relationship between research and writing. How to do the right amount of research without getting bogged down, and how to learn from the research and how to use the research to help you with where you want to go with it. I knew that the characters were going to be trying to steal something and we also said, “It might be cool if it’s initiated by one of the smaller auto companies, against one of the bigger ones.” I was looking for interesting innovations that happened in ’54 or ’55 that might have happened with GM or with Ford, or with Chrysler, that maybe Studebaker would have been wanting, or Nash, or something.

And then I thought, “Wait a minute, it’s going to be much more interesting if it’s an innovation that they tried to bury, as opposed to that they tried to actually bring out into the world?” And I was like, “What kind of stuff? What were they doing wrong back then? What have they uncovered that they forgot?” That led me to discovering this notion of the pollution control technologies that the automobile industry was forced to collude [on]. And so, for the first time, there was a lawsuit, the City of Los Angeles sued the Big Four, the Big Four lost, and the Justice Department ruled that the Big Four had to collude. For the first time, they had to collaborate, share technology, to come up with ways to reduce emissions in the automobile.

So for the first time in history, the auto industry, the Big Four, collaborated on something. And what they ended up collaborating on was not coming up with an answer, but finding an answer and then burying it. And I thought, “Okay, that’s more interesting.” In my research on Detroit in the ’50s, I discovered the deep potency of this idea of the cities re-landscaping themselves. And then those same companies were pulling up the trolley tracks, red-lining districts, making it so certain people couldn’t live in other communities. They destroyed Black Bottom, Paradise Valley, which were these thriving, African American residential and business communities. And I thought, “Well, that’s an interesting backdrop. And so, what if we set it against this changing landscape of Detroit?”

I knew we had Don, and so it also made sense that the person that he would be with would represent the other side of the spectrum, someone who is racist, and these two guys have to work together. [And the other guy] is not only racist, but he’s dealing with someone who’s smarter than him, and ahead of the game more than he is. So he’s got to deal with a kind of appreciation for this guy, that he’s kind of grown up distrusting, without knowing him. It seemed to give a deeper fuel to the back and forth between these two guys, as they’re trying to fuck each other over, over the course of the movie.

We were not trying to do a “socially conscious film.” We were really trying to just make a fun yarn. And to me, it just added to the fun, because it added to the potency of the characters. Like it gave Don’s character more muscle and more of a sense of righteous indignation. And it gave Benicio’s character more of a deeper character place to come from when dealing with Don’s character. It was not designed so that it would be “about something bigger.” It was actually designed to just give a bit more weight, so that the characters were more fun. It’s funny, because I’ve heard it referred to as a gangster movie, and it literally never crossed my mind, that this would be a gangster movie. Never. Until today.

Read more

Movies

No Sudden Move Review: Slow Speed Heists Get Away With Bigger Hauls

By Tony Sokol

Movies

Examining Bill & Ted’s Excellent Pop Culture Adventures

By Chris Cummins

I’m the gangster geek at Den of Geek, so I have to look at it that way. And I got to say, Matt Damon’s character is scarier than Luca Brasi.

You know what? I appreciate your saying that. And that’s why I’m like, “Yeah.” And that guy, he’s not in any kind of organized crime, but he’s legit scarier. And yet, he’s probably the most civilized of everybody. I appreciate what you’re saying, actually. Very much appreciate that. Luca Brasi, that’s so funny. I was thinking about Luca Brasi, just recently.

I think about him all the time. Almost everything you’ve worked on has pushed barriers. The Garry Shandling Show changed television, you changed entertainment.

I’ve always wanted to try to push boundaries, wherever I could, partially for purely selfish reasons of not getting stale. And not falling back, as we were saying before, and not falling back on so-called old tricks or old habits, because I’ve always wanted to have longevity. I’ve always wanted to constantly improve as a writer, and be vital. I don’t want people throwing a bone at me, just so I can work. I want to be able to have something to say that’s meaningful. It’s been both good and bad for me. It’s been good for me in that, it has kept me growing, but it’s been bad in that I’ve fallen on my face a lot.

I’ve really taken some swan dives and landed on cement. And that’s hurt. However, I think truthfully, taking chances and failing has probably led to more success and longevity than the successes I’ve had. Weirdly. It’s great to have success, because it makes you be perceived as viable by the people who make movies and who hire writers. But honestly, as a writer, it’s better to have failures as long as you have the emotional resolve to be able to get up and keep walking, and look honestly at where those failures are your fault.

I don’t think it’s possible to have all success anyway, but if I guess if you have all success, nothing’s a problem for you. But I think most of my friends who have a lot of success and don’t have a lot of failure, who are writers, don’t usually have a lot of longevity, which is interesting. And I don’t exactly know why except I think you stop challenging yourself, and your work stops becoming relevant. I think. I’ll know more in a decade or two, and we’ll get back on it. And we’ll see if my strategy worked or didn’t.

The new movie finds relevance today by going back to the past, and by going back to the filmmaking styles of the past.

I’m so grateful to hear you say that. Steven used these Kowa, I think that’s those anamorphic lenses that he had fixed on top of the RED monster camera, the digital camera. So that’s why it has the look it has, and I really appreciate the way everyone really went for authenticity. I think sometimes you can speak better about the present when you’re speaking, and you set it, in the past. Because sometimes you need that distance to be able to actually see yourself. And then when you’re just looking at a current, cutting edge, modern story, it somehow doesn’t resonate as much. It doesn’t have as much poetry.

No Sudden Move is available to stream on HBO Max.

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The post Screenwriter Ed Solomon on Soderbergh, Noir, and How Bill & Ted Saved His Career appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[basement-office-log]

Some Thoughts about BTS...

So... this is basically, the story of how I got in and out of the BTS fandom. (Okay not exactly out because I’m still casually following them nowadays)

How I discovered them is ironically, like many of you, through youtube. It was just before the Run era I guess??? (around the end of 2015). Like somewhen between the Dope and Run era that I got in the fandom.

I guess I can consider myself as one of those depressed fans (lol), I actually remembered there was a option in the BTS fan survey around their BS&T era(???) that said “are you the kind of person that is easily depressed” and I ticked yes.

Almost instantaneously, I fell for the song “Butterfly” it was just the prologue that released back then. The MV was beautifully made, with a sad happy yet depressed undertone, perfectly described how I’m feeling back then.

I first noticed I’m depressed back then in 2015 (let’s be honest, college makes everyone depressed), more like “ahh so this is what being depressed is”. 

And what now... I’m writing this after a tiring long day at work so things may jump back and forth... 

Both their HYYH albums, I had gone through countless late nights listening the tracks on repeat, those are still my favourite albums up till today. Beapsae, instead of partying, that was the song that kept me awake till 5 a.m. ahh those memories... Same with Dope, I did not read the english lyrics until the hundredth repeat lmao. I was actually expecting the song to be about how cool I am, come to oppa and I’ll make you the princess kind of lyrics but ehh boi you surprised me with those raps hmmm....... 

And... Jungkook, I did not like him when I first got into the fandom, to be honest. Because he’s younger than me and also he’s the center, main vocal of the group, despite the youngest. I remembered I was like, wow cocky brat isn’t it. Hehhhhhh but I grew to like him over time anyway, he’s cute, talented, good looking and all but still, it would be hella a headache if I were to have a younger brother like him.

It took me a year to like Jungkook because... The more I look at stuff, he’s just a regular boy, growing up, working hard, trying not to disappoint his parents and people around him. In a sense, aren’t we all just like that? There really is no reason to hate. 

Another member is Jimin. He’s another member that I don’t quite like when I just got in the fandom. We all know that he acted a bit flirtatious during his debut days, up to the Danger era, honestly, his eye make-up makes me feeling uncomfortable to look at him. That’s the first thing. The appearance and the way he acts, in no way I’m trying to say he’s ugly, because if I were to compare myself to him, umm I probably looked like a bum lol.

It took me a lot longer to like Jimin, it’s until the Spring Day era that I thought, alright Jimin is charismatic and cute, admit it. Hah yea... Now, this is when the second stage of not liking Jimin comes. I started to fear him. It’s weird I know, why would I scared of “the mochi of BTS” Let me tell you why.

It’s scary to see how hard a person can work, that his goal is probably more important than his life. It makes me think that I am not and will not be a person like this, living is more important than what I am achieving. I wouldn’t want to risk my life doing things, however important that thing might be. Well people said, you will never achieve your goal like this if you don’t put your life on it. But I don’t care about that, but at the same time I’m feeling guilty about that. 

It might be a Korean thing, we all know Koreans worked insanely hard because of society standards. Or it also could be a Jimin thing, Nevertheless, this man have my respect. The respect that I keeps me away from accepting him.

I’m kind of in the neutral range with Suga, J-hope and Jin like they are cool, fantastic, great people. 

-----

This is almost 24 hours later, since the last paragraph. Again, a long and tiring day, after work, prolly a few minutes away from losing consciousness (a.k.a. falling asleep lol)

This shit is going to be very VERY long, nah it doesn’t matter because no one is going to read this anyway, even if I tagged BTS below, I’m writing this for myself.

I’ll just briefly talk about RM and V before going into my main topic today, (all because I cut myself off yesterday to hit the hay ekkk).

Rapmon bro, the reason why I decided to look into this group is because of his mixtape. I have 2 of his tracks in my old phone back then, everything was gone when my phone literally died a few months back. (The whole album is available for free download anyway so its all good) I have no interest in hip hop or whatsoever back then, but I became interested in hip-hop just a little after listening to his mixtape album. He is really someone I look up to, honestly, it’s no easy job to be a leader, not just in idol groups but just in every field in general. I tried becoming one because my mother always expect me to be one, after a few attempts (it was back in high school by the way) I thought it’s just not my thing, I’m more of a following instruction kind of person, I do my part and make sure everyone is okay. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want to become a leader like person. In the future, maybe... But my depression went really downhill these days, so I’m not sure if that day will come. But I do aspire to become someone like him.

V or I prefer calling him Tae. He is my first bias. His existence just screams “RELATABLE” to me, (minus his looks) He seemed to be struggling with words whenever he tries to say something. That also is something I had to deal with on a daily basis. It’s like when you have good looks, everything you did is cute, but for me, it’s more like an annoyance. So I tried to keep quiet as much as possible. Nevertheless, I just hope that I will meet someone that will understand the way I talk like the other BTS members did with Tae, have a best friend like Jimin and... yea.

BTS hmm the annual sit and talk for part of their BTS Festa thingy, it’s called the Dinner Party this year hmm cool. I stopped watching after the first 30 minutes, for the exact reason why I also did not watch more than 5 minutes of last year’s sit and talk.

We all know that, they had achieved tremendous success for the past few years. A lot of their songs often circle around their hardships and what fuck the haters?? If that make sense. Whenever they have talks like this, I always bail myself out there, and yea I never install Vlive back after I got this new phone because there really is no reason to catch every live and Run BTS episodes now.

This was not long before the DNA era, I always found myself having thoughts like:

“So you have started to avoid BTS hmm?” Yea right, took me a while to admit. I used to not miss a single notification. There is no more random videos on the BangtanTV channel as they get more and more popular, there is just backstages and really just back stages and behind the scenes of their daily schedules and tours. It shows that they are working hard, really hard. Which leads me to the next question.

“It feels uncomfortable isn’t it, comparing yourself to a worldwide famous group of artist?” Hmph. I worked hard, really hard. I even live by the motto, do or die. But that doesn’t seemed to be enough. People around me, always told me that I should push myself more. I DID, I REALLY DID, BUT WHY CAN’T YOU SEE IT.

“But BTS can, why can’t you?” I’m just going to work harder, I tell myself. I don’t have to face the same pressure as BTS did, I’m having it way more easier. But at the same time, there is seven of them in BTS, but there is only one me.

The voice at the back of my head, you are not helping.

I swiped away all notifications from BangtanTV ever since. 

Because seeing them having each other around reminds me how am I not going to have friends like this, how I’m never going to achieve this much. But mostly it reminds me how lonely I am.

By the time the Mic Drop remix released, I started having what I called the depressive episodes. I think I’m going to describe them as a waking nightmare, all the thoughts in my head are killing each other, fighting for the limited space in my head. Which ever thought that dominate my mind is the winner. I stared into blankness, tears and snots all over my face, hyperventilating while finding excuses to tell people what happened to me if anyone ever sees me. 

Honestly I don’t think people is going to read this... but the tag is down there just for the slightest hope that people that come across this will know that, ahh there are people like this out there too... Some of you might think, this is pathetic, attention seeking but at the end of the day, I just want some closure for myself. I need to admit that, no matter how much interviews I watch, how much memes I’ve seen everyday, they are not going to be my friends. They will forever be the people in screens, and I belong to the 97% of the population that will lead a normal life.

Here I am, the Fake Love era that comes to a close. I can’t even bring myself to listen to the whole album, because chances are, some of the lyrics are going to trigger the shit out of me. Same goes with Suga’s mixtape, J-hope’s mixtape.

I really miss the days where they made simple love songs like the ones in the Dark and Wild album. Blanket Kick is my personal favourite. 

I’m sure there are still a lot more that I had in mind but I just forget what is it about to include in this. I’ll get a part 2 done when there is time. 

BTS now just feels like the popular kids I went to school with, now graduated from a school named ARMY, they are like the ex-classmates I bump into once in a while. Thank you, for the best 3 years in my life. I had lots of laughter, times that I forgot about my sadness and your warm words that took me through difficult times. You are the reason that I survived until today and also the trigger of some of my episodes. 

SInce it’s already past midnight, I wanted to say Happy 5th debut anniversary, stay healthy (to both BTS and ARMY out there) be happy and may you all be reaching higher and higher till you celebrate your 10th anniversary. (or maybe longer)

*Just a sidenote, as a Malaysian fan, I’m just going to keep calling Rapmon, Rapmon because RM is our effin currency, I don’t want to be reminded of money issues whenever I thought of you. As far as I know, you do have a beautiful name as your mother definitely did not named you Rap Monster. It’s just that stage name exist for a reason. And I think I know at least 5 Jins in real life, so the wide shoulder hyung is just going to be Kim Seok Jin in my head haha yea.