#because both of you are dropped into this world with exactly zero context and have to go and figure out just what the fuck happened here

[justagaycryptid]

Man I really love Hollow Knight

[maddiewritesstucky]

Can I sluttily inquire what Jockverse’s favorite sexual acts to perform on and receive from one another are? 😌✨💖

Hooo boy. Okay. I fucking love this ask, and you knew I would, just like I’m sure you knew exactly how carried away with it I’d get.

I give you...

Settle in, this is detailed.

BUCKY BARNES

21yrs | English major | Wide receiver

LIKES TO RECEIVE...

Bucky is a slut for Steve’s mouth. In literally any capacity he can get it

From the moment they first drunkenly made out at a frat party, Bucky was hooked

The lips are fat, okay? They’re big and juicy and soft and so goddamn red, and Bucky didn’t think anything could feel better than having them wrapped around his dick...until Steve put them on his asshole

Bucky. LIVES. for the Steve Rogers Rim Job

This is his absolute favorite thing in the entire world. He would choose this over any sexual act ever, any day of the week

Steve eats it like he means it, has zero reservations about getting his face in it deep and putting in work. It’s borderline savage.

He gets those big hands on Bucky’s cheeks, is hella gropey with it while he Dines Out, squeezing Bucky’s hips and thighs and waist 

He’s noisy with it too, and not because he’s trying to rile Bucky up - he’s just that into it 

It’s all wet sounds and soft groans and muffled cussing, and it’s all entirely sincere. Sometimes he gets so carried away Bucky thinks Steve might come just from having his tongue in Bucky’s ass 

Also...

F A  C E    S I T T I N G

Riding the Steve Rogers Jawline Express all the way to Jizzville, USA

In summary - Bucky likes getting his cake ate

LIKES TO GIVE...

H e a d

Straight up. Bucky loves to suck cock

Specifically, he loves to suck Steve’s cock

Steve Rogers has the single most flawless dick Bucky has ever seen. He wants to take a photo of it and save it as the background on his phone, but apparently ‘tHat’s tOo fAR bUcK’ 🙄😒

It  was the closest thing to a religious experience Bucky ever had, the first  time he dropped to his knees in front of Steve in the locker room showers, and Steve said ‘do it’

He loves every single thing about it. He loves the way his mouth literally hurts trying to stretch around Steve, loves flicking his tongue up under the head and over the slit. He loves the battle of stuffing Steve down the back of his throat and trying to swallow, feeling the spit drip down his chin and the occasional tear slipping down his cheek from how damn much it is

It’s something Bucky knows he’s good at, has always been pretty confident in his abilities, been told many times that his mouth is made for it. But Jesus, the way Steve responds?

Steve crumbles for it. He makes these desperate little noises, looks down  at Bucky like he can’t fucking believe it’s happening. He gets his hands all tangled up in Bucky’s hair and his thighs shake and he moans like a shameless little whore for it, every fucking time

He always warns Bucky when he’s close, but it’s not because he thinks Bucky doesn’t want it in his mouth…

He just happens to know that Bucky wants it even more in the face

...Okay 🥵 Let’s hydrate, and move onto Steve, shall we? 

STEVE ROGERS

20yrs | PoliSci major | Quarterback

LIKES TO RECEIVE...

Not to be crass, but like...Steve is an Entire Weak Bitch for getting Bucky’s dick in him

No one has ever fucked Steve the way Bucky does. And Steve has been around.

Bucky is so unfathomably confident in his own body. Steve could see it well before they ever fell into this Thing they’ve got going

He sees it out on the field, he sees it in the way Bucky carries himself around campus...fuck, he sees it in the way Bucky dances, when he’s had enough to drink?

Bucky has total control over his movements, has a grace about him that also reads as entirely sexual, and Steve’s pretty sure Bucky knows it, too

Steve’s not much for making assumptions on a person’s sexual prowess based on this kinda thing, but goddamn did he feel vindicated on this one when he finally got Bucky inside him

Bucky caught on pretty quick to exactly what does it for Steve, and he’s     merciless in using it. He’s not here to play games, he’s here to get them both off as spectacularly as possible, and it shows

The fact that their connection is predominantly physical only seems to add to it, because he’s not trying to prove an emotional point. He wants to be  the best Steve’s ever had because he’s a cocky sonofabitch, and that’s that

I’m not gonna harp on foreplay here because I’m trying to focus on the     question at hand, but Bucky plays Steve’s body like an instrument, both before and after he gets inside him. By the time his cock’s rubbing up against Steve’s insides, Steve is usually drooling for it (often literally)

And fuck, the way Bucky’s mean. Steve didn’t even know he was into it until Bucky started mocking the sounds he was making one day when Bucky was balls deep inside him, and he almost came on the spot. 

Bucky’s not afraid to throw his weight around either, even goes so far as to treat  Steve like he’s smaller than Bucky sometimes (which he is definitely not) and god but that does it for Steve

Bucky manhandles him into positions that put Steve at his mercy and fucks orgasms out of him like it’s his job, and Steve finds himself on multiple occasions laying awake at 2am, googling the symptoms of sex addiction because he literally cannot stop thinking about it

LIKES TO GIVE...

I feel like Steve is just genuinely obsessed with every single opportunity he gets to touch Bucky’s body

Steve is a naturally tactile person, so physical intimacy is very deeply     rewarding and satisfying to him, in any context. It’s why he loves sex so much, and it’s certainly a big part of why he likes sex with Bucky so much, because there’s this understanding between them that this is the exact reason they spend time together - to touch and be touched

There’s no pretense between them, they know it’s about exploring and meeting their sexual needs, and it makes it weirdly pure, in a way

There’s a freedom in it that Steve’s not sure he would feel if he were having to think of all the other things that factor into building a deeper relationship, of trying to fit his life together with someone else’s

He can just be his body, for a while, and it feels so damn good

Steve is also a naturally giving person, and he gets off on his partner’s pleasure, so literally anything that feels good for Bucky, is good for him too

He loves rimming Bucky, just as much as Bucky loves to be rimmed. He loves sucking his cock and mouthing at his balls, loves when Bucky wants to be fucked and he gets inside him 

But if I had to pick a specific weakness?Fingering Bucky

Now, I think it’s not so much the act itself here, as it is the context in which it can happen. Yes, it feels incredible burying his fingers in that vice-tight heat, and watching Bucky squirm for it, but the where and when  is what gives it an edge for Steve

Fingering Bucky in a bathroom stall after practice, while their teammates are getting changed mere feet away from them? ✔️

Crowding Bucky into a dark corner at a frat party, and slipping his hand down the back of Bucky’s jeans? ✔️

That night he drove Bucky home after a team meeting ran late, and they pulled over on a side road so he could fingerfuck Bucky in the backseat? ✔️

It’s the versatility of it, ya know? An act he can whip out anywhere, if they’re discrete enough

Also, he likes that he can be looking at Bucky’s face while he does it. Likes to make intense eye contact and talk at him and bite at Bucky’s trembling lips. Because as much as Bucky loves to be in control, those moments when Steve can physically see and feel him give it over? Unparalleled.

...This ask is a blessing to the JockVerse, K. You have done the Fantasy Fuckball League a great service today.

[real-fanta-sea]

Ok this is going to be wildly out of context of my blog but it's 5 fucking am and I have some unused energy to burn. *cracks knuckles*

I think we underestimate educational potential of stories/shows we let our children to watch. Why noone ever stops and thinks - what are they really going to learn from this? Children might not have the words to articulate it, but we adults should be able to analyse the potential of the content.

Disney? Literally no diversity, forces gender stereotypes on both women and men (girl, play victim because strong women grow up to be witches, boy, be rich, handsome or both, and if you're not, fake it till you make it - yes, I'm looking at you, Aladin and Frozen)

Pixar? It's all fun and games and then POOF! there comes a huge ass milf on a mission to save her friend and meets some goof who is supposed to help but usually means more trouble.

Anime? Work hard, travel the land, accept minor quests from every fucktard you meet along the way, eat noodles, whenever you are losing think of your emotional moments and it will miraculously resolve the issue. Oh, and whenever someone dies, just look for your balls.

But is this all enough to teach children how to survive in the world that takes more than just cooperation with idiots, traveling and getting married the day they turn 18? I say no.

We need children to learn how to lead a sustainable life, break free from the shackles of monogamy and self-importance in favour of community cooperation while respecting diversity, teach them to use local resources and protect environment. Most importantly, we need them to learn to stand up against those who would like to violate their rights and/or monetize (read: milk till the last drop) their natural heritage.

And this is exactly where Krtek comes to save the day! What this tiny mammal first portraited in Krtek a kalhotky (1957) has to teach us you ask? See for yourself:

Krtek and his friends stand up and protest against corporate workers actively destroying their habitat or contributing to species extinction, and explore guerilla gardening as a way of peaceful protest- we learn to value environment and actively protect it. We learn to re-think contemporary urbanism and to point out bad architectural decisions with appropriate actions.

Krtek and friends work together in a community garden. We learn to cooperate, accept diversity and the importance of local sourcing, most importantly basics of sustainable lifestyle. Gardening together also serves as a prevention of substance abuse, helps cope with depression, strengthens relationship between all interested parties, helps the community to stay zero-waste

Krtek shares food with friends. Again, we learn to share with community - we have grown food together thus everyone gets to eat for free, no one is left struggling. We also learn to share our abundance with needy - frogs and the hedgehog didn't contribute, but rather than throwing food out, we learn to give it to them because they need it.

Skill sharing - we learn to support natural ways of learning and skill sharing between members of the community. Elders are not pushed aside and locked up in nursing homes, but play a vital part in educating the youth. Education is taken out of traditional school, embraces children's need for exercise, teacher is a partner in learning rather than an undiscussable authority. Skills and know-how are shared rather than monetized so everyone within the community can benefit from them.

To conclude, Krtek is an icon to look up to - not only he lives up to latest ideals, but he successfully portraits the society after society to show us it is possible to attain those standards - all we have to do is make it happen.

[princesskokichi]

shuichi, keebo, fuyuhiko, kiyotaka, and izuru asking their crush to call them by their first name

ahh, i had so much fun writing this ! 

yes, i know keebo doesn’t have a last name.

don’t judge me

he babie - mod kokichi

[ S H U I C H I ]

- this !!! he was going to do this today !

- he talked to each one of his best friends individually to see what they would say

- and they all agreed with him that s / o was totally into him !!

- which is so good but,,

- how would he tell you ?

- would he write it out in a note and give it to you ? profess it loudly ? tell you in a quiet way ?

- he pondered this for the longest time

- in the end, he decided to do something subtle about the change in the relationship

- well, not really subtle, but it was the best choice that he could think of that almost couldn't end in failure.

- he got so excited that he could hardly wait !! so he decided that he was going to do his thing tomorrow !

- during the lunch break at school, you were sitting with him as usual

- kaede had been absent that day, and she usually helped you with your math homework

- maki and kaito decided they were going to pick up snacks from the vending machines, so it was just the two of you

- s / o : "saihara-kun, can you help me with my math homework today ? i don't exactly understand it,, "

- he fluctuated in his resolve for a moment, almost wanting to drop the subject all together and just help you with your math

- but he wouldn't allow himself to give up that easily, or else he had 03 friends who would personally seek the end of him

- shuichi : " hey, i can but, can you do me a favor ? "

- s / o : " i can do everything but help you with your math homework, saihara-kun. "

- shuichi : " can you, uh, can you,, canyoucallmebymyfirstname ? with, uhm,, without honorifics,"

- he spoke really fast, his words conjoined together and it went over your head for a moment

- s / o :  " h-huh ? why would i do that ? "

- shuichi : " well, we're close aren't we ? ah, nevermind, it's okay. forget i said anything. "

- you stayed silent for a little while, and shuichi was really starting to rethink his entire approach to this situation

- maki and kaito came back, munching on foods

- maki : " so ? how is everything. "

- s / o : " shuichi is going to teach me my math homework. "

- he visibly lost 05 years off his lifespan, but in a good way

- shuichi : " is it okay if i come visit you at your place today to tutor you, s / o ? "

[ K E E B O ]

( i changed it up a little for his, i hope that's okay ,, )

- he was always constantly learning about the world around him

- in school, he got really surprised to see the use of honorifics and last names

- in fact, he once called his teacher by their first name without honorifics and got detention for two days for that

- after that little mistake, he took it upon himself to learn what he didn't know about the japanese culture and their understanding of names

- while he believed the word of the internet and all of his sources, he felt like this kind of thing was better to consult a person who grew up in this society would be

- so he asked you, one of his best friends, about it

- you explained to him that first names were reserved for people you were close with

- and that honorifics showed respect for those of higher positions, age, or others

- he had asked a ton of questions that night, pretty amazed at how much knowledge you possessed on the subject and how well you presented it

- after that, he would come to you whenever he had a question about the japanese society that he didn't understand

- which was pretty often tbh he's an inquisitive boy

- after a few months of talking to you almost daily, he started to feel weird, like his circuits were heating up

- even though he knew it was irrational, he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you

- he wanted,, to be closer to you

- he consulted miu with this question, purely because she was the ult inventor after all

- she told him that he was catching feelings

-,,in miu's own way, but it was understandable

- he was a little surprised afterwords

- he was,, romantically attracted to you ? that's surprising

- he had to tell you, in a way he knew you would appreciate

- he texted you to meet him at the park immediately after his meeting with miu, and waited there for you to arrive

- when he saw you, he jumped out of the bench he was sitting at

- keebo : " s / o ! i have come to a startling conclusion, and i want you to listen to me for a moment. "

- you flushed up, telling yourself that he just forgot how last names work in japan.

- s / o : " ah, i'm listening senpai. "

- keebo : " i want to call you by your first name instead of l / n-san. if you,, if you want. "

- oh, he didn't just forget,,

- s / o : " that's pretty bold, senpai. and a little unexpected. "

- his gaze was unfaltering, watching you with expectation as he gathered his next sentence.

- keebo : " will you accept this change ? "

- s / o : " yeah. yeah, i do, keebo. "

[ F U Y U H I K O ]

- he really didn't give a shit about respect or anything like that

- of course, he never really used last names, either

- most of the times, he just called a person a curse word to refer to them

- well, that is most of the time

- and then you came by into his life, and he forgot all about that act of his

- he was never prim and proper, but he was respectful to you, which meant a lot coming from a guy who likes his persona of an asshole

- mainly, he followed your lead

- if you would call him a nickname, he had a nickname for you

- if you called him by his last name, he would call you by your last name

- but the thing is, you never went past the respectful way of referring to him

- so all of these nicknames and playful things he had prepared to call you were completely useless

- unless  you decided you wanted to be closer than just respectful friends

- if he did it, he felt like he was just going to sound like his usual asshole self and you wouldn't think much of it

- or worse

- you'd think less of him, and that's something he does not want

- so he waited

- and waited

- and waited

- until he literally could not wait anymore

- he paced back and forth in his bedroom, peko barely paying attention to him as she read her book

- fuyuhiko : " how do i show that bi-i, uh, l / n-san,, , that i want to be more than just typical friends with them ? "

- peko : " have you tried asking them ? "

- fuyuhiko : " asking them what ? "

- peko : " to call you by your first name and not your family name. have you tried that ? "

- fuyuhiko : " ,, peko, you are a genius ! "

- peko : " i know i am. "

- even though he was getting frustrated with the situation, it still took him nearly a week to get the courage to ask you

- and even then, it was only because it was the heat of the moment

- you'd been playing with him the entire day, poking his cheek or his shoulder and whispering " kuzuryu-kun, pay attention to meee "

- s / o, while poking his cheek : " kuzuryu-kun, kuzuryu-kun, kuzuryu-kun, kuzu- "

- fuyuhiko : " i'll pay attention to you if you call me by my name, geez ! it's annoying to hear you say " kuzuryu-kun " so often. "

- you stopped in your tracks for a moment, your face incredibly red and nervous.

- and then

- s / o : " fuyuhiko, fuyuhiko, fuyuhiko, fuyuhiko, fuyuhi- "

- ah, yes, true love

[ K I Y O T A K A ]

- he upheld standards really well

- okay, maybe not just " really well "

- he lives nearly every day of his life adhering to the rules, both of society and school

- so he took stuff like that very seriously

- in fact, you two knew each other for more than a year before he even started to get the idea of changing from just polite friends to closer than such

- the idea came to him while he was talking to you at the library

- taka : " ah, i think cereal is the most adequate food to eat for breakfast, what do you think s / - i mean ! l / n -san ! "

- you had flushed up red immediately, but not nearly as red as he was

- he could not believe that he almost screwed up like that, seriously

- both you and him pretended like that little slip up never happened for the entire time at the library

- and for the next week, it was back to normal

- well, as normal as it was going to get at hope's peak academy

- until one night, you finally texted him

- it was completely out of the blue at nearly nine pm, just barely an hour before he went to sleep

- s / o : " hey, remember that day at the library ? "

- he almost threw his phone, oh gosh darnit

- taka : " yeah, sure do. what's this about suddenly ? "

- s / o : " well, i just wanted to know,,, why did you almost call me by my given name ? "

- taka : " i was not thinking ! i apologize if i overstepped my boundaries, l / n-san ! "

- s / o : " no, just checking. well, its getting late, i should be going to sleep. goodnight kiyotaka. "

- after reading that text nearly a million times

- he finally came to the conclusion that yes, indeed, you did say that

-  and now he had to do something about it

- at school the next day, while walking to his locker, he saw you reading your textbook to get an early start for your language class

- taka : " hey, l / n-san !"

- s / o : " oh, ishimaru-kun ! hi ! "

- he sat down beside you on the bench, reading your book slightly

- taka : " i have a favor to ask of you ! please, refer to me as kiyotaka ! in the same context, i will refer to you as s / o ! ,,, if that is acceptable ? "

- s / o : " ah ! i can do that, kiyo ! "

- taka : " now, let's get to class, i don't want to be late. "

- s / o : " we have ten minutes before class starts. "

[ I Z U R U ]

- listen, i know the request said " shy boys " but izuru just got stuck in my head and wouldn't let me write this without writing him, so here he is

- first things first that he does not care about being proper

- literally, it mattered zero to him

- however, he still stuck to calling everyone [ last name ]-san, purely because he didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about him or any of his friends that he talked to on a daily basis

- one time that happened with chiaki where a rumor was being spread that he was in a romantic relationship with her and she almost killed him on the spot upon learning of it

- he doesn't fear death, but he fears chiaki

- just a little bit tho

- so while it didn't matter to him, he still got used to saying it

- however, when you joined the group, he wanted to call you by simpler terms for a different reason

- he spent a long time trying to figure out what was wrong with him when he talked to you

- he would feel his face heat up, and it was significantly harder to think of words to say when you were around, even if he wasn't directly talking to you

- and dear god don't get near him or he felt like he was going to combust

- what the fuck were these feelings ?

- even though he was a mess inside, he kept it calm and rational to everyone else

- and by that, i mean he looked like he always did, uncaring about everything in the universe

- since he always seemed like he didn't care, you were known for messing around with him, or more specifically - his hair

- brushing his hair and braiding it seemed to be your favorite pastime

- during lunch, you would sit on the table while he sat down on the bench, and would just brush away with your soft pastel purple brush

- whenever you would, it took everything out of him not to curse at you for,,,

- he didn't know really why he felt like cursing at you

- there were just a lot of feelings in one body, something he wasn't used to

- one day was going very well

- you were idly talking between chiaki and nagito while brushing izuru's hair

- hajime was somewhere, probably retaking a test because he failed his exam last time

- you were humming, trying to pull all of his hair into a ponytail so you could make a few braids in it

- s / o : " kamukura-kun, can you push your hair from your face, i can't reach it - "

- izuru : " must you always play with my hair, s / o ? "

- s / o : " huh ? oh, yeah. yeah, it's kind of mandatory, kamukura-kun. "

- izuru : " my name is izuru. "

- wait, what was he saying ?

- s / o : " k-kamukura-kun,, , "

- izuru : " izuru. "

- you two went back and forth until you finally gave up, giving into his requests

- s / o : " geez, you're so,, ugh ! why do you have to have such nice hair izuru ? "

[zigsexual]

various yule ball shenanigans (trr hogwarts au)

drabble about yule ball drama and dumb idiots who can’t communicate for the trr hogwarts au. in a perfect world, there would be some prior context for how this all came about, but an au drabble is an au drabble and i need to stop obsessing over making it into a full fledged fic lmao.... hope this tides u guys over until i finally post my mawell fic aslkdfj im a rat sorry lov u all!!

They’re sitting in the common room when it happens. It starts innocuously enough, Drake practicing his levitation spells for Charms (still failing) while Maxwell watches and provides exactly zero helpful input. Riley has only just entered, nose pink from the cold, unwinding a scarf from around her neck.

“Hey Riley,” Maxwell calls as she passes by the both of them, heading towards her room. “We’re meeting up tomorrow afternoon for extra bludger practice with the alternates. Just confirmed it with the Captain.”

“I can’t tomorrow,” she says, breezing past in an unusually casual way.

“Hold up.” Maxwell makes a face at her. “What do you mean, you can’t? You don’t have other plans. I would know.”

She pauses, turning around to look at him in annoyance. “You don’t know everything about me. And as a matter of fact, I do have plans. I’m going shopping with Hana for a Yule Ball dress.”

“You’re going to the Yule Ball?” Maxwell raises his eyebrows. “I thought you were protesting.”

“I was,” Riley seems to savor answering, looking him square in the face while she does. “But then Liam asked me.”

Drake drops his spell immediately, the tea falling along with it, but Riley merely raises a hand and deftly redirects the mug to a nearby side table. Maxwell, meanwhile, is outright staring. 

“Liam?” He says, flabbergasted. “Drake’s Liam?”

Riley bristles. “He’s not anybody’s Liam, he’s just himself. And he asked me, so I said yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because I wanted to.” She frowns, folding her arms across her chest. “I don’t see either of you asking me, anyway.”

“When did he ask you?” Drake says, too taken aback to even bother with Maxwell’s line of questioning. “Today?”

“It was a few days ago, actually.” Riley is clearly trying to act casual about the whole thing, fiddling absently with her wand, yet the furtive glances she keeps sneaking at the two of them are anything but. 

“A few days?” Maxwell repeats. “You never said anything!”

“I’m saying it now, aren’t I?”

“But... why did he ask you?”

Her eyes flash. “Is it so hard to believe I’m likable?”

“That’s not what I meant—“

“I’m going to bed,” Drake says, standing abruptly. He doesn’t meet Riley’s eyes, only sweeps up his things from the table and moves briskly towards the sleeping quarters. He can feel their eyes boring into him as he leaves, but it’s better than having to spend one more second in that room wondering how on earth he could’ve been such an idiot. 

Riley. Of course it would be Riley. Spunky, intelligent, athletic Riley, with her long dark hair and ever-present laughter. Why else would Liam spend so much time with them, go to their matches, stay for holiday? He’d probably asked Hana to introduce them in the first place. 

Drake tosses his bag on the ground next to his bed, sitting down on the mattress with a sigh. He stares across the way for a moment, eyes unfocused, before falling back onto the comforter. 

He can’t even be mad. She’s his best friend. 

Maxwell finds him like this not too soon after, barging into their room in that unceremonious way he always does, instantly taking up space. “Can you believe that?” He says, as though they’re merely continuing a conversation from seconds ago. “And she’s not even lying. I checked.”

“Why are you upset?” Drake rolls onto his side, watching as Maxwell splays on top of his own bed across the way. “It’s not like this affects you.”

“I’m not upset,” Maxwell counters, frowning up at the ceiling. “I’m... it’s on your behalf. I’m upset for you.”

“I don’t need your manifested pity, but thanks.”

“How do you have any friends, Drake? Seriously.”

Drake lifts his head up to frown in Maxwell’s direction. “Aren’t you supposed to be cheering me up or something?”

“No, I came in here because I’m upset.” Maxwell pauses, seemingly realizing what he’s said a moment too late. “Upset for you. You made me upset.”

“Sure.” Drake falls back down against his pillow, closing his eyes. 

“It’s just so weird that she didn’t tell us,” Maxwell continues, seemingly oblivious to Drake’s disinterest. “I mean, that’s big news, right? You’d expect her to tell us, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think she likes Liam?” Maxwell sits up at this realization, looking over at Drake with wide eyes. “What if she’s going with him in like, a romantic sense?”

“Christ, Maxwell, I don’t know.”

Maxwell bites his lip, looking out into the distance, suddenly pensive. “I just don’t get it. I don’t get why she wouldn’t tell me. We tell each other everything.”

He goes quiet, still staring at nothing in particular, brow furrowed. The silence stretches on long enough for Drake to actually hazard a glance over in his direction. As much as he loves moments of solitude, they’re few and far between where Maxwell is concerned. 

“You okay?”

Maxwell looks down at his hands, twisted together in his lap. “I don’t understand girls.”

---

At Quidditch practice the next morning, Riley sidles up to Drake before their huddle, resting a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice as gentle as a whisper, and equally as soft. “I don’t know why I didn’t say anything to you, I just…”

He focuses intently on his broom, not quite ready to meet her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But it feels like I did, you know?” She frowns, looking down at her hands. “I owe you more than to act like that.”

Drake shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything. You’re my friend.”

“I owe it to you because I’m your friend,” she insists, “It was shitty of me, okay? It was.”

He isn’t quite sure what to say, so he just nods.

She sighs, running her fingers through her hair, somehow leaving it even messier than before. “If it makes any difference, I don’t feel that way about him. I’m not that much of an asshole, I promise.”

“I know,” Drake says, “but... maybe he feels that way about you.”

“It would be stupid of him. He doesn’t even know me, not really.”

Drake shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He doesn’t know me either.”

Riley turns to look at him, jaw set in determination. “Well, he should. Because I know you, and I think he would be lucky to have that privilege.”

He shoots her a small smile. “Thanks, Brooks.”

“I’m serious. You and Max are some of the only people who’ve never judged me for where I come from, not for a second. Maybe you don’t think that’s a big deal, but when you’ve never had a family and then you get the chance to go to this incredible place filled with actual magic, only to be called ‘mudblood’ by half a dozen assholes before you’re even off the train…” She sighs. “It means a lot, okay? It means everything.”

“Riley—”

“Look, I’d never jeopardize our friendship for anything. I’ll tell Liam I can’t go.”

“No, don’t do that. It’s okay, really.” 

He can tell by the way she looks at him that she doesn’t believe him, which is fair, because he doesn’t believe himself either. “You’re sure?”

The Captain interrupts before he can answer, perhaps a saving grace in itself. “Brooks, Walker — if you’re quite finished?”

[babbushka]

Each Eye (7/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Reader

5.8k ; Warnings: Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Blood, Gore, Murder

                                                  ------------

The tea you had chosen was a five course, three hour affair. You had figured that would be plenty of time to charm and chat, to catch up and gossip like normal people do. It was what everyone around you was doing, at the very least.

The Turkish afternoon set was very charming, and reminded you of all the wonderful memories you had with Kylo, going abroad to the gorgeous vacation home in Turkey that he owned. He had properties all over the world, but that was definitely one of your favorites, and it made the afternoon much more enjoyable.

The tea itself was brought out in a golden camel teapot, which you thought was only a little tacky, in that way that overly luxurious places tended to be. In addition to the tea though, there was a rosewater lemonade that was brought out with the first course.

Since it was only the first, the portions were small, but you didn’t care too much. You knew you’d be full by the end of it. Dried fruits and nuts decorated a golden tray, and you were careful to clean your teeth of the dried apricots and figs when you asked,

“NYU or Columbia?”

Rey hadn’t been expecting that question, clearly, if the way she coughed around the sweet walnuts was anything to go by.

“I’m sorry?” She asked, soothing her throat with some of the tea, the Dunes de Sahara that she was currently on her second cup of.

“Tax law, isn’t it? Are you at NYU or Columbia?” You clarified, really wondering if there would ever be an instance that she would just use her own context clues so you wouldn’t have to go repeating yourself all the time.

“Oh, Columbia.” She replied, dabbing her mouth with the linen cloth and reaching for the dried dates.

“You have a full schedule, I’m assuming.” You nodded, and she sighed.

“Yes. It’s very, pardon my pun, taxing.” Rey chuckled slightly at her own joke. If you weren’t so suspicious of her, then you might’ve laughed too. “I’m enrolled in the maximum amount of classes, currently. Although the drop period hasn’t passed yet, so I might lighten the load a little, depending.”

There was no way you could envision her dropping a class normally – you knew how she had been in high school when you both attended together. You saw how she took on more classes than anyone else, more after-school extracurriculars, more clubs.

Her dropping a class was only more reason to believe that she was doing something, something that was going to cause another schism in the family, something that was going to start another war – and you had proof.

You only needed her to admit it.

“Well then I am extra glad that this worked out. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your studies for too long, but it’s been a while since we’ve spent time together.” You commented.

“I don’t think I’ve actually ever spent time with you like this.” Rey said quietly, “The two of us alone, I mean.”

You both knew why, you knew. It wasn’t hard to guess, what with the way she had gone after her brother, what with the way she was so hell bent on killing him, that night so many years ago.

You took a sip of your tea, and smiled falsely at the waiter when they removed the golden tray of the first course, and replaced it with the second.

On top of a crystal dish were filo puff pastries filled with lamb and feta cheese, pistachio finger-cakes, and crackers with dates.

“Kylo’s very protective, isn’t he. When I went to Columbia he enrolled in all the same classes just to put himself at ease.” You said, reaching for one of the pastries, placing it on your pretty plate and using the polished silverware to cut into it.

“You’re an alumnus?” Rey’s hand froze as she reached for her own pastry, and you smiled.

“Of course, didn’t you know?” You asked, paying her body language no visible mind, “Spent quite a lot of time in Arthur W. Diamond.”

“Me too, there and the library.” Rey said, and you did glance up at her then.

“That is the library.” You blinked, watching.

She knew, you could tell she knew, that she was fucked.

You only were trying to prove a point. She knew that too.

“Oh, yeah, right, that’s what I meant.” She said unconvincingly, busying herself with the pastry, cutting it into many pieces of exactly the same size and shape, a nervous habit.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go back and get a secondary degree, maybe another masters, I don’t know. Is Professor Carmichael still there? I loved taking classes that professor taught, we became good friends.” You asked, luring her into a trap.

“He is! I see him in the hallways sometimes.” Rey nodded enthusiastically, “I’ll ask and see if he remembers you.”

Professor Carmichael died two years ago, you and Kylo had gone to the funeral.

But she didn’t need to know that.

“That would be wonderful! You could ask after you visit the deli.” You said, pleased with yourself for this little segue.

 Rey’s hands went deathly still.  

 She was frozen for some time, you only watching her, only taking in her posture and the way her pulse jumped in her throat. You wondered what it must be like, to be prey.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Rey blinked, and oh how funny it was, to watch her immediately tense up.

To watch her lie.

“Don’t you frequent the Hamilton deli, on Amsterdam Avenue?” You asked, picking up your phone which had been resting on the table.

Her eyes zeroed in on the phone, and you could tell she was suspicious, could tell she was already thinking that you were using it to record her. She didn’t need to know that Kylo’s phone was safely tucked away in your purse, microphone facing her through the thin fabric.

“No, I’ve never been there before.” She lied.

You didn’t even need to use your years and years of observational skills to tell, didn’t even need to look at her to tell she was lying, because you were sifting through your screenshots in the cell phone gallery, looking for one piece of incriminating evidence.

“That’s funny because this is a reply text message from your cell phone number, to an unsaved number. It says, ’I'm busy that weekend. Let’s meet on Monday, our usual spot on Amsterdam.” You said, finally finding it, turning the phone screen to face her, “Or, am I mistaken?”

“How did you get that?” She asked, defensive. So defensive.

She knew she was fucked, why did she bother making this more difficult than it already needed to be?

“A little birdie sent it my way.” You replied.

It was easy to forget, you figured, that your family had connections with all the crooked cops in the city. It was easy to forget that there were people who sent in reports, people who made back alley deals, people who took bribes and offered them to the mob. Cops weren’t all squeaky clean and sunshine the way the mayor was painting them, the way some of these bootlickers were painting them.

No, they were just as slimy and grimy and corrupt as anyone else – maybe even more so.

 It was a cop who sent you that screenshot.

Which meant it was a cop that Rey had spoken to.  

 “So you do visit the deli.” You asked again, and this time, this time Rey had no choice but to play along, unless she was stupid.

She may have been a moron, but she wasn’t stupid.

“Yes.” Rey finally said, taking another big sip of her tea.

“Regularly.” You said, no longer a question.

“What’s this about?” Rey’s eyes narrowed, that squirrely fear of her giving way to the frustration of being caught.

You shrugged, putting the phone away, tucking it into your pocket. Rey followed the movement carefully, and part of you wondered if she thought you were going to pull out a gun and kill her right there. You could, of course, but you wouldn’t. For what she had done, what she was doing, she was in for something far more gruesome.

Today was only a warning.

You took a sip of the lemonade.

“I wonder who you meet there.” You said, nonchalant.

“Just some friends.” Rey replied.

The waiter decided that that was the best time to come in and clear away the plates, to exchange the pretty crystal dish for a three-tiered tray of stirling silver.

This was the course you were most looking forward to, if you were being honest. The top tier of the tray held a sunflower fennel Turkish bagel, the second tray had chicken pastilla, and a fun variety of dips, and the bottom tray had an assortment of things to go with the bagel. You immediately went straight for the apricot saffron jam, and watched as Rey tried her best to keep her hands from shaking as she served herself some baba ghanoush.  

“It must be very good food, or they must be very good friends, for you to regularly take time out of your very full schedule.” You said.

“It’s not so busy.” She replied, and you raised a brow.

“You just said you’re taking the maximum amount of classes.” You challenged, and she blinked rapidly, trying to backtrack.

“I meant it’s not so busy right now, at this point in the semester.” She lied, “We help each other study.”

“I didn’t think someone so bright would need help studying.” You mused, taking a crisp crunchy bite out of the pastilla.

Rey must have been at her tipping point, because her jaw was clenched and her fists were tight on the silverware she held. You had a fleeting thought that she would lunge at you from across the table, the knife in her hand particularly tense.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.” She hissed instead, and you raised an eyebrow.

“What am I implying?” You asked, which she didn’t seem to appreciate too much.

“That I’m cavorting with people.” She tried to keep her voice down as to not draw attention to herself, although her temper and that firey sprit that always reminded you so much of her late grandfather, wanted otherwise.

“Are you?” You asked evenly, hoping she’ll just get over with it and fess up.

“No.” She lied instead, and you cocked your head.

“Then why was that your first impulse I wonder?” You hummed, taking a sip of the tea.

“I’m used to people accusing me of things I didn’t do.” Rey said and you almost wanted to laugh out loud.

“Who’s throwing out accusations?” You said instead, your own attitude starting to become a little snippy, starting to become a little more sharp around the edges. “I just think it’s interesting that you make such an effort to meet your new friends. You don’t even take the time to properly control your slice of the city which you so desperately want to keep. I wonder if Gwen knows.”

“Why should she?” Rey scoffed, making you shrug.

“Keeping secrets isn’t the best way to maintain a healthy relationship.” You said.

“No one in this family would know a healthy relationship if it bit them in the ass.” She countered.

That caught you off guard a little, and you did have to admit it was funny. You chuckled a bit into the teacup, careful not to let the short burst of air blow too much of the steam away.

“Probably not.” You replied, before once again repeating yourself, “So which is it?”

“What?” Rey asked, and part of you wanted to strangle her right then and there.

“Is the food good, or are the “friends” good?” You asked.

“The food’s pretty fucking good.” Rey admitted.

“I’ve only been there one time, do you know what I ordered?” You asked, smiling as you wiped the corner of your mouth, as you finished your Turkish bagel and cracked the joints in your neck, your knuckles.

“Do tell.” Rey said, sarcastically and through gritted teeth.

“The N.Y.P.D.” You said easily, so easily, watching as the color drained from her face.

It was an expression you had only seen on her once before.

                                                   ------------

You’re seething, eyes red-rimmed, blood staining your chin, your cheeks. Fury raged through you as you blinked away the hot stinging tears in your eyes, exhausted and overwhelmed and far too keyed up all at the same time.

You were hunting, hunting him down. On your way to rip him apart limb from limb, on your way to gouge out his eyes and yank his heart straight out of his throat.

Snoke.

The man who had ordered your beloved to kill his father, which he had done! Which he had done so well, so deservingly – it hadn’t been enough. Not enough for Snoke, not enough for him who lured him into a trap for his sister to strike him down. The wretched old man, the monster who had taken your Kylo away from you, who had warped and twisted him into a puppet who had to obey.

Well, he didn’t have to obey any longer, not anymore.

Kylo was passed out, blacked out in your bed. You had found him had saved him, had sewn the chasm of his face back together with ugly fucked up stitches because you didn’t know how to do any better, you didn’t know. You had never done anything like this before, had never even seen it done. Nothing but sheer force and willpower had pushed your fingers forward, nothing but blind determination and fear had given you any sense of calm.

Were you calm?

You left him in your bed, stole his keys, and were now flying down the roads. Adrenaline is pounding through your veins, blood in your ears as it rushes behind your temple. You’re speeding, your foot slammed on the gas pedal as you rip through the streets of some small Jersey city. The address in Kylo’s GPS, in Kylo’s car, was leading you to him, to the biggest, meanest boss on the East coast.

You didn’t have anything, nothing to fight him with, nothing to kill him with. But you’re too angry, too furious, too filled with rage to stop yourself from going after him.

You don’t even know how you get there, when the GPS concludes, when you’re slamming the brakes and parking the car, turning it off. You don’t know how long it took, don’t know where you are. All you know is that somewhere inside a shitty warehouse, dilapidated and crumbling, is the man who sent your Kylo to die.

On the wall of the warehouse, in the very first room you creep into, there’s an axe in a glass case. Without thinking, you punch through the glass, send it shattering, send the alarm ringing blaring screaming. The lights flash, and the siren is so loud, and you yank the axe out from the small case, hold it in your hands.

You’re deranged. You don’t know how many men you cut down, on your way to Snoke.

There were rumors about it, rumors of the massacre, the way you had taken on a team of people. All his guards came pouring in, swarming from the depths of the warehouse with their big guns and their poor aim. Maybe if Snoke hadn’t sent Kylo away, hadn’t betrayed him, then he’d still have his attack dogs.

Now he didn’t have anything at all.

It was that night, that you knew how Kylo felt. How he got so out of it, in a trance, when he killed. You had never felt like that before, had never heard the sick crunch of bone as the heavy blade of the axe swung through it, had never heard the screams of someone as their light faded from their eyes.

The screams were muffled by the alarms, the slip and slide of their blood illuminated by the flashing lights, but you didn’t care, you could hear see feel smell it anyway. You were in a frenzy, like a shark hunting for blood.

You were hungry for it, hungry for the death you inflicted.

They had hurt him, had lured him into a trap where his own death was the only outcome, where the dominos would tip and he would fall. They didn’t know he was alive, they didn’t know he was fighting the reaper tooth and nail underneath your expensive satin sheets in your childhood bedroom, they didn’t know he was going to make it.

They wouldn’t make it.

Your muscles are burning by the time you’ve cut them all down, chops of your axe to their limbs, their necks. You’ve been shot, you had to have been, there’s no way you haven’t been, with how many they were. But you can’t feel it, can’t feel if there’s a bullet lodged in you somewhere.

You can’t die yet, you reason. If you die, you’re taking Snoke with you.

You can’t die until you get to Snoke.

The warehouse is like a maze, one large and winding thing, metal walls and grey floors, lights that bounce around off the rusting shelves and grates. You open unlocked doors, kick down locked ones, try your best not to scream as you cry, as you sob. You can’t stop crying, fear gripping your chest, squeezing at your heart as you try try try every door you come across, axe bloody and dripping on the cement in your wake.

You think of him, of Kylo. Of the man you love so desperately. You had never told him, hadn’t told him before that night, before only an hour ago. You never were given the chance, this withered monster having stolen that from you.

You wonder how much else he stole, what else you could have had.

Because you have him now, Kylo. You have him. He cried in your arms when you picked him up off the street, out of the alley. He sobbed into your hair, not coherent or even really that conscious, dead weight in your grip as you dragged him through the streets, dragged him to your house.

It was just your name, on his lips, when you sewed him shut. Just your name, over and over again, pleading, hoping it was you who had rescued him. And it was, you told him again and again, it was you, you were there, there with him.

He kissed you, when you had healed him, when his face was bandaged up to the best of your ability, he kissed you.

That was your first kiss, and you can’t help but wonder, if Snoke hadn’t been around what your first kiss might have been. You’re praying it’s not your first kiss goodbye, praying that by the time you get back to him, he’ll be there to hold you the way he clung to you.

 You’re surprised to see her, when you make it to the right room, the red lights blaring, washing the whole warehouse in an altogether evil atmosphere of violence and rage. You don’t expect her, and you lunge, tackle her to the ground, pressing the bar of your axe up against her throat, choking her as blood and spit spatters onto her face from the force of your anger.

“I’ll kill you!” You scream at her, “I’ll fucking kill you for what you’ve done!”

Because it’s Rey, Rey who split your Kylo’s face in two, Rey who stabbed him in the shoulder, Rey who shot him in the stomach. She’s there, choking under the weight of your axe, body convulsing and eyes bloodshot and angry. You don’t know why, but she’s there.

Rey, his sister, his younger sister, your friend, your classmate, power hungry in her own right.

“(Y/N)!” Rey struggles, chokes, red in the face, blood on her face – or is it just the lights? You don’t know, you don’t care.

You’re too angry.

“Ah,” A voice cuts through the darkness, something chilling that dumps down your spine. “So this is the (Y/N) that I’ve heard so much about.”

You snap your head up, searching in the blinding pulsing light for where the fuck he is, where the monster is hiding. Suddenly it’s like you’ve been electrified, and you’re frantically abandoning Rey’s body from where he’s gasping out on the floor, stalking the room, trying to squint through the lights at him.

“Kylo’s told me so much about you.” The voice, deep and dark and vile, bounces around the walls.

“Show yourself!” You shout, your whole body trembling, shaking with rage.

“Why? So you can cut me to pieces like you did my guards? No, I don’t think so.” The voice laughs, laughs and laughs, coming from all around the room, all angles, all sides.

You spin in a slow circle, as you try to catch shadows on the walls.

“You sick son of a bitch I said show yourself!” You’re practically foaming at the mouth, panting, breath ragged as you gulp down air. You have a splitting headache, you’re still crying, bleeding from a wound in your leg, hands numb from the grip you keep on your weapon.

“Put down the axe, and I will.” Snoke says. You drop it without question – you don’t need the axe to kill him, you’ll find another way. You just need him to show himself.

He steps out of the shadows then, a crippled old thing. He’s so much older than you had thought, than you had ever anticipated. He must be nearing ninety, from the age in his skin, his sunken face, hollow eyes. He’s bald, hunched over and spindly.

You hate him.

“Good, good girl. At least one of you can follow orders.” He chuckles, and you want to be sick, want to kill him. You’re going to kill him.

“Is that why you tricked him? Because he wouldn’t blindly obey you anymore?” You sobbed, unable to even look at him, you’re so repulsed.

“My plans for Kylo were set in motion the first day I met him, he was always destined for this.” Snoke shook his head.

He rushes towards you and grabs you, a grip far too strong for the man’s age, as he pulls out a gun and presses it to your cheek. You can feel the cold bite of the metal digging into your skin, even through the warm crust of blood that’s dried on your face.

“He was a young frightened child and you killed him.” Despite this, you shake, so angry, so livid. You need to think, you need to figure out a way to get out of this hold he has you in.

“He’s dead?” Rey asks from her spot on the floor, not having moved one fucking inch from where you left her.

“No thanks to you.” You lie, you lie and you pray it is a lie, you plead that it’s a lie.

“Shut up!” Snoke says, the arm that was tight around your middle now grabbing your jaw, crushing your chin in his hand as he spits on the floor and grumbles, “You know, I really wish Kylo had never met you.”

“I could say the same.” You say, before taking your opportunity.

You bite down on his hand, hard. So hard that he shouts out in pain and releases you just enough that you can twist yourself out of his hold. You shove Snoke to the floor as you kick the gun out of his hand, the thing spiraling across the cement floor as his head cracks against it. He’s old, he’s fragile, and he doesn’t get up quickly, you’re glad to find as you scramble to find your axe.

Rey screams as you swing the blade down across his ankle, as you cleave through the bone there, chopping his feet off. Snoke screams in pain, a horrible, mangled sound, like he’s never been hurt before, like no one has ever dared to hurt him. He hunches over on the floor, his hands grasping for the stubborn end of his leg.

You swing the axe down again with a yell, a rage filled hysterical shout, hacking through his arms.

There is so much blood, so much that Rey is running away from it, climbing up onto a stack of metal grates to avoid it touching her, to avoid getting it all over her. You lose your footing in it, hands scrabbling against the cement, his blood hot and thick as it pours from his limbs.

You don’t stop until he’s nearly unrecognizable, until he’s completely mangled, chopped into little pieces. You had known, of course you had known that he was human underneath the evil veneer of sickly grey skin, but to see it all laid bare was something you hadn’t been expecting, for whatever reason.

He was nothing more than a pile of bones and organs, skin flayed out and drenched in blood.

You were covered in it, sprayed and drenched from head to toe in it, and only once you had severed the head from his neck, did you drop the axe, did you stumble over onto the ground, did you lay yourself down on the cement and stare up at the flashing lights.

“Is he really dead?” Rey asks, voice small, scared.

She’s watching you from the metal grates, and you sigh.

You’re both too young for this kind of shit, nineteen year old killers. Well, technically, Rey hasn’t killed anyone yet. But the effort counted enough, you think.

“No.” You croak out, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the shouting.

You’ve got your eyes closed, arms and legs spread out like you’re making snow angels, starfished right there on the concrete. You hear Rey get down from the metal grate, your heavy breathing not doing anything to drown out the noise of her standing at your feet.

When you crack an eye open, it’s to her offering you a hand.

“He killed my father.” Rey says, and you sigh as you take it.

“I know.” You reply, pulling her into a hug. “Han was his father too.”

“We need to get you out of here, before the cops come.” She says after she lets herself sigh into the hug, after she lets herself cry a little into your shoulder. When she pulls away, she’s got Snoke’s blood on your cheek. “I don’t know how to shut off the alarm.”

You nod, making sure to take the axe with you. You can’t leave it behind, can’t abandon the murder weapon, not here. You’ll dump it over the side of a bridge or something, but you can’t leave it here.

“What are you even doing here?” You ask as Rey pulls your arm across her shoulder, giving you support.

You’re definitely shot, you can feel it in your leg, now that the adrenaline high is winding down, you wince and grit your teeth through the pain. Your family is going to freak the fuck out when they find out you’re going to the hospital, but they’ll understand, you’ll make them understand.

“I was going to kill Snoke too.” Rey says, glancing back at the mess of gore behind the both of you, before asking, “Are you going to kill me?”

“If he dies from what you did to him, yes.” You reply honestly.

“Why do you care so much about him?” She wonders aloud, a blood-spattered frown knitting her brows.

“I’m in love with him.” You reply easily, like it’s the easiest thing you’ve ever said, like killing an entire warehouse of people was no challenge for you.

Because it wasn’t, not if it was for your man, your Kylo.

Rey is silent as she helps you limp across the warehouse, as she corrals you into the back of Kylo’s car, as she drives you to the hospital and calls your family, who calls just about everyone else.

And when the whole fucking crime world shows up to check on you, to make sure you’re okay after the surgery to get that bullet out of your leg, when the paths clear and you see the familiar mop of black hair and the bandaged face of your best friend cutting through the crowd, you smile.

                                                   ------------

In the present, Rey put down her teacup. She had the decency to at least look offended, which you appreciated, even if you knew it was all bullshit.

“Excuse me?” She asked, whispered, unable to speak any louder otherwise she’d be screaming, she’d be shouting, like she was so wont do to.

“Roast beef, onions, hot peppers, bacon, American cheese, lettuce, tomato and BBQ Sauce.” You replied quickly and with a bit of a smirk, “It’s delicious.”

“You don’t touch pork.” Rey said.

“That makes one of us.” You shot back.

She closed her eyes then, rubbed them with the pads of her fingers, slumped back into the chair. You wondered how it felt to be such a traitor, to be such a liar. You couldn’t ever imagine.

“You know, (Y/N), I have to say.” Rey shook her head, licked across her teeth and regarded you with steely eyes, “Sometimes I wish Kylo had never met you.”

Of all the things you thought she would say, that really wasn’t one of them. You couldn’t say you were surprised, because you weren’t, not really, not given the situation. If you hadn’t met Kylo, who knows where she might be, how successful, how rich, how powerful.

If you hadn’t met Kylo, you wouldn’t have been there to save him that night, wouldn’t have been there to stop the war that was brewing, that had already begun. Maybe she would have won, if you hadn’t been there.

But you were there.

You can’t help but laugh, a little something just at her expense.

“What’s so fucking funny?” She demanded to know, and you really did think she was going to stab you then, with the way she was fuming.

“Nothing,” You made a show of wiping away a tear from your eye, made a show of getting your chuckles under control as you said, “You’re just not the first person to say that to me.”

“Oh?” Rey rolled her eyes, “And here I thought I was original.”

“So did Snoke.” Your smile dropped, and it felt like the whole world went quiet.

Rey’s eyes widened, and she snapped her jaw shut, staring out the window where the vision was still a marbled blurry mess.

“Do you remember? Remember what I did to him?” You asked softly, removing the napkin from your lap, folding it and placing it on the table. You knew there was one last course coming, some sort of ice cream, but you didn’t care.

You wanted to go home, you needed to plan.

“Yes.” Rey said, voice barely above a whisper, because she did – she was there.

“Remember how I spared you?” You asked, snapping your finger and drawing her attention so that she could look at you, so that you could look at her, really look at her.

“Yes.” Rey answered, terrified.

You were no longer all smiles, all warmth. You were no longer sunshine and charm as you had been, as you tried to always be. No, no now you were angry, now you were impatient, now you were offended. Your eyes were cold and hard when you regarded her, when you bore your gaze into hers as you leaned in ever so slightly, leaned in just enough to make her lean in too.

“I’m starting to regret that.” You whispered, before pulling away.

The waiter arrived then with the ice creams, and you returned to your normally cheerful disposition, checking your phone and collecting your belongings.

“Shit, would you look at the time!” You laughed breezily, apologetically to the waiter. “I need to get going, Kylo will be expecting me back home soon. You know how he gets if he’s away from me for too long.” You said to Rey, who was stunned.

“Of course.” She said, mind racing, pulse jumping.

The waiter nodded, handed the ice creams off to someone else passing by so they wouldn’t melt, no use in wasting them on people who wouldn’t eat it.

You eyed the little piece of newspaper that was still on the table, and picked it up.

“Oh, would you mind holding onto this for me? He doesn’t like it when I fill in the puzzle without him, gets all sour.” You winked, folding it up and handing it to Rey.

“Did you finish it?” Her voice shook as she accepted the paper.

“No, there’s one left, I was hoping you could solve it.” You smiled warmly, standing up and putting on your coat, “It’s got me stumped I’m afraid. Forty-two across.”

“Sure I can take a look.” Rey looked like she was in a daze, emotional whiplash making her dizzy.

“Thanks Rey.” You said, excusing yourself to the waiter. “I’ll see you soon.”

You left a few hundred dollars on the table, and made your way out of the tea room.

 You barely made it to the door when you heard a loud FUCK! and the shatter of crystal hitting the polished marble floor, sound of footsteps running, the murmur of nosy socialites wondering what the commotion was all about.

Without even so much as turning around, you smiled to yourself, as the doorman opened the glass doors and you stepped outside.

Your heels clicked on the pavement as you stepped up to the vehicle where Dopheld was holding open the door, a curious look on his face.

“Did you have a nice lunch, Mrs. Ren?” He asked, ever so cheerful and polite, friendly.

“Yes Dopheld, thank you.” You said, sitting in the back of the car and clicking your seatbelt into place. “It was very insightful.”

You reached into your purse and pulled out Kylo’s phone, paused and saved the recording so Kylo could listen in on it as soon as you got back home.

“I’ll bring you back then?” Dopheld asked, smiling at you through the rearview mirror.  

“Yes please, Kylo is going to follow us.” You pulled out a compact mirror and your lipstick from your purse, reapplied your favorite color since the brunch had rubbed some of it away.

“Yes ma’am.” Dopheld pulled onto the street and into the light traffic of the mid-afternoon.

You looked behind you and gave a little wave to your husband, who was in the car behind you. He lifted a palm for a moment before returning it to the wheel, a small wave of his own kind. Smiling, you turned back to face the front properly, and hummed to yourself.

“Oh, Dopheld?” You asked, “I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

“Anything, Mrs. Ren.” Your driver was always eager, jumping at the bit to help.

“Do you happen to know a three letter word for, ‘traitor?’” You asked, a coy smile spreading across your face, as his eyes widened in the rear-view mirror.

                                                 ------------

Taggin some palz! <3  @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @heldcaptivebychaos  @solotriplets @formerly-anonhamster @lookinsidemyhead @candycanes19 @adamsnacc-kler @taylovren-types @whiskey-bumblebee @riseofkylo @magikevalynn @tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov @romancedeldiablo @helloimindelaware @elfieboxcat @laurenshit @autumnlovesadam @peterisparker @mp938368 @hidingp @goodboybensolo @intrestellarsarah @the-marvelatic @miasera @emily-strange @proxyfoxy @insanita @disaster-rose @hazydespair​ @yosoymuyloca​

[a-singleboat]

Breakfast for Four

Word Count: 2.7k

WARNING(S): Swearing

Part two of three

prev. One Drink

When you woke up the next morning, Spencer was already gone. You didn’t blame him. You didn’t want to have to deal with your hungover self either.

And so, the rest of your morning was abysmal at best. You got yourself out of bed and made yourself a breakfast that consisted of half of a banana and some toast, and then after a moment’s deliberation, added a full bowl of the sugary cereal that you only kept around for your nephews to your breakfast.

After you finished eating, you dumped the dishes into the sink and made your way back into your bedroom. The dishes would be a later problem, the throbbing behind your eyes ruining any plans you had for the rest of the day. Not too long after, you found yourself dozing back into the land of sleep--only for your phone to go off, ruining any tranquility and peace you had managed to find.

“Hello?” you said, wincing as your own voice caused your headache to spike. You would have taken another ibuprofen but you didn’t want to add an overdose to your to-do list.

“Hey, hot stuff!” came the cheery voice of Penelope Garcia over the phone. You didn’t understand how the woman was so energetic that morning, she had just as much to drink as you did… though she had been drinking water in between her shots. “How was your night with Dr. Spencer Reid? Did you get to see him with his shirt off?”

You could almost see her eyebrows wiggling up and down as she tried to pry any juicy details from your night spent with Spencer.

“Nothing happened,” you told her honestly, dropping your head into your pillows. You put the phone on speaker so you didn’t have to hold it to your ear. “At least I don’t think anything happened. I didn’t take him as the type to hump and dump.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Penelope sounded more disappointed than sorry. “Are you still coming for lunch with Derek and I?”

You grimaced. You had forgotten your promise to go for lunch with the duo, having been too caught up in your own self-pity to remember the plans you had made nearly a week ago. Attending the bar last night had been a last-minute plan on your part.

“Of course,” you said, looking over to the bottle of ibuprofen on your nightstand. Maybe taking another wouldn’t be too bad. “What time again?”

“It’s a late lunch, so around three,” Penelope mused. You could faintly hear her kettle in the background. “I’ll text you the address in a bit.”

“Thanks, Penny,” you said, finger already hovering over the end-call button. If you were having lunch at three, you could get in a two-hour nap before then. “I’ll see you later.”

Penelope hummed. “See you later, sweet pea!”

You didn’t wait another moment before hitting the end-call button, creating an alarm for two o’clock and then discarding your phone to the other side of the bed.

You woke up two hours later, your headache mostly gone and your phone violently vibrating on the floor of your apartment. You were sure your downstairs neighbor hated you more than they already did.

After checking the time, you reasoned that you had enough time for a quick shower before you really had to leave. So after the quickest shower in the history of mankind, you managed to make it out of your apartment in less than thirty minutes.

Penelope was definitely going to have your head if you were late, which you were about to be. Maybe you should have set your alarm for earlier, then you wouldn’t have been in this predicament.

Sliding your sunglasses off your face, you entered the diner and made your way over to where Penelope was flagging you down. You took the seat on the bench opposite of the blonde, grinning as she started to scold you for being late.

“I called you and told you what time to be here!” she scowled, picking up the menu and propping it up in front of her to act as a barrier between the two of you. “You’re lucky you weren’t the last one to arrive.”

You picked up a menu as well, reading through the options and freezing mid-sentence when the words she said registered in your mind. “Wait--Penelope, what do you mean I’m not the last one to arrive?”

It seemed that the world was working against you that day because as soon as those words slipped out of your mouth, one Dr. Spencer Reid slipped into the booth right next to you. You tried to hide behind the menu much like Penelope had two seconds ago but found that your attempts to disappear were in vain.

You sent a glare at the blonde that sat across the table from her, going as far as to kick her shin under the table. You smirked in satisfaction as she jumped, hitting her knee on the underside of the table as well.

Your satisfaction didn’t last long. It was cut short when Derek sent a stern look at the both of you as Spencer settled into his seat and read through his own menu. “Play nice,” he warned, causing you to bring your menu up further in front of your face.

It was one thing acting like a kid while you were drunk and it was a wholly different thing when you were sober. Still, you couldn’t resist the urge to lift your menu over your head and stick your tongue out at Penelope, who returned the gesture a second later.

“So,” Penelope started, laying her menu down in front of her. You brought the glass of water in front of you to your lips. “How was everyone’s night?”

Now, you didn’t normally embarrass yourself more than once in a day so it really came as a shock to you when you started choking on your water. You couldn’t tell if it was in reaction to Penelope’s intrusive question or the fact that you breathed in at the same time as taking a sip, but it caused you to go into a coughing fit nonetheless.

Penelope looked shocked, eyes wide as she watched you bring a napkin up to your lips as you fought to breathe normally. Spencer’s hand was on your back, rubbing soothing circles into the space between your shoulder blades as you stopped coughing. All the while, Derek had the audacity to look amused at the exchange.

“I’m okay,” you reassured Penelope, sending a grateful look in Spencer’s direction. “Just went down the wrong tube.”

“I’m sure that’s what that was, baby cheeks,” Derek teased, putting down his own menu. “But you’ve got me curious. How was your night?”

You took a sip of water, successfully this time, and shrugged. “It was a night,” you said, careful not to look in Spencer’s direction. While you were hurt that he hadn’t stuck around that morning, you couldn’t exactly fault him for leaving. You’d met the guy maybe once or twice before, mainly in passing. Whatever schoolgirl crush you were harboring on him was bound to pass sooner than later.

“‘It was a night?’” Derek asked. “So you didn’t get to see the boy genius without a shirt after all?”

“No, I didn’t,” you responded cooly, trying to fight the heat rising in your cheeks. You shot Spencer a wink despite yourself. “Though I wouldn’t have complained if I did.”

Spencer flushed red at your words, stammering out your name.

“I’m just teasing,” you nudged him with your shoulder. The tension between the two of you grew at your words, awkwardness settling over your shoulders like a well-worn coat. Thankfully, the waitress came around just in time to take down everyone’s orders.

After that, it didn’t take long for the food to come out, seeing as you were one of three patrons in the diner that evening. You kept up conversation with Penelope, listening intently as she told you about the new boutique that opened up near her place.

“I’ll have to check it out,” you said. You took a bite out of your sandwich and swallowed. “Maybe I can set up my cards there.”

“Y/n is a personal tailor,” Penelope provided the side note about your profession to the two men that were struggling to keep up with the conversation the two of you were having. It was worthy to admit that both you and Penelope talked at the speed of light when you were together. Words often slurred together until you were speaking an entirely different language altogether.

“She’s also the woman I consulted on that case three weeks ago,” she continued to provide context.

“The case in Oregon?” Derek asked through a mouthful of fries. “Heathridge Manor?”

“That’s the one!” Penelope replied cheerfully, stealing a fry off of Derek’s plate. She dipped it into his pile of ketchup before dropping the cooked potato into her mouth. “Honestly, Y/n’s like the Spencer of the fashion world. She knows practically everything about clothing, it’s insane!”

You flushed. “I wouldn’t say that I know everything.”

“Tell us about Spencer’s blue sweater,” Penelope ordered.

You glanced at Spencer’s outfit, zeroing in on the blue--no--cerulean V-neck sweater he had on layered over a button-up and a tie.

“It’s not blue,” you gave in, choosing to entertain her, “it’s not turquoise or it’s lapis either. It’s actually cerulean. In 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then Yves Saint Laurent showed cerulean military jackets. After that, cerulean showed up in the collections of eight different designers, all of varying designs. The word cerulean as a color actually goes back to 1590, though. It’s derived from the Latin word caeruleus, which means dark blue, blue, or blue-green.”

“Which, in turn, probably derives from the word caerulum,” Spencer finished for you. “Diminutive of caelum, meaning heaven or sky.”

You nodded, taking a sip out of your vanilla milkshake. “Exactly. It’s also why cerulean is most often used in pieces and collections revolving around the sky and the divine. And sometimes the ocean, but that’s just color association.”

“Oh, God,” Derek blanched, “there’s two of ‘em.”

“You’ve had Spencer for ten years?” Penelope said, swirling her straw around in her cup, causing the ice to clink together. “I’ve had Y/n for nearly thirty. And trust me, it was worse in high school.” 

“Expose me, much?” you rolled your eyes playfully, taking a sip of your milkshake. Over the meal, you’d gotten much more comfortable around Spencer. “I could always just tell them about--”

“No, thank you!” Penelope interrupted you, pulling out her wallet and handing you the amount for both her and Derek’s meals. “But I totally forgot that Derek and I had something very important to do and it’s happening in ten minutes so I’ll see you later, baby cheeks. Kisses!”

The blonde ushered Derek out of his seat, tugging at his arm as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She sent you a bright smile, waving Spencer a goodbye before making a beeline for the front door. The bell jangled as it opened and closed, leaving you and Spencer at the table together.

You chuckled, folding up the money she had given you and replacing it with your card. “At least she didn’t leave us to pay for the whole thing.”

Spencer pulled his wallet out as well, handing you the money for his meal as well. “Here, this is for my food--”

You pushed his money away. “No, Spencer. Think of this as my treat for, uh, getting me home safe last night. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh,” Spencer bit his lower lip as you waved the waitress over to your table. You handed her your card, thanking her for her hospitality.

“If it’s bothering you that much, you can take the tip,” you offered, taking his silence for offence. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything by paying for the bill.”

Spencer shook his head, his brown-colored curls bouncing with his movements. “No, it’s not that. I mean, yeah, I’ll take the tip. It’s only fair. I just--I’m sorry for leaving you this morning.”

You waved him off. “I didn’t expect you to stay the night. I’m a grown woman, I should be able to take care of myself.”

Once again, the blanket of awkwardness settled over the two of you. Spencer fiddled with the sleeve of his cerulean sweater as you messed with the plastic cap of your milkshake. The waitress came back around to give you back your card and you thanked her yet again, taking your time to put your card away.

“Penelope didn’t really have anywhere to be, did she?” Spencer asked, breaking the awkward silence between the two of you as he pulled his messenger bag over his head.

You laughed, shoving your wallet back into your bag. “Yeah, no. She used to do this all the time in high school. She’d invite me out for lunch along with whoever I was crushing on at the time and then ditch when it got close to getting the cheque.”

Spencer raised an eyebrow, a smirk settled onto his lips. Gone was the awkwardness between you two and back was the confident Spencer Reid from the night before. “And that worked?”

You found yourself flushing yet again as you realized that you’d just inadvertently admitted to your crush on him. “I--Well--” you tried to come up with a viable explanation.

Upon realizing that there wasn’t one, you gave in, bashfully admitting that yes, it worked. You looked up at him, lips pressed into a line as you tried to sink back into whatever hole you originally crawled out of.

“I think it’s cute that you have a crush on me,” Spencer finally said, looking down at you. He had stopped next to your car, which he must have recognized from the time you drove Penelope home--one of the times you’d met in passing.

“I do not--” you struggled with the words, eyes darting away from his own as you shoved your hands in your pockets in search of your keys. “I mean, I do, but it’s not--Spencer,” you said exasperatedly.

“So you do have a crush on me,” he bent down a bit, moving so that he was in your direct line of sight.

“Well, when you say it like that,” you grumbled, freeing your keys from your pockets. “It makes me feel like I’m in high school all over again.”

“I never had the high school date opportunity,” Spencer confessed.

“Never?” you inquired. Spencer shook his head.

“Never.”

“That’s a shame…” you unlocked your car, opening the door and throwing your bag into the backseat. “You don’t suppose you’d want to try it then? The whole high school date opportunity? A shitty movie theatre date with shitty movie theatre popcorn, and maybe, if you’re lucky, a shitty makeout session in the back row.”

“Are you offering?” he asked. You looked up at him, running a hand through your hair as you squinted through the sun that was positioned right behind his head. He moved slightly to his left, blocking the sun’s rays from your eyes.

“If you want,” you shrugged. “I think everyone deserves to experience at least one crappy high school date. Plus, I don’t think it’d be terrible to make-out with you.”

“I--I’d like that,” Spencer stammered out, any confidence he had leaving his body. You thought it was cute how the second the tables turned, he was back to being the shy doctor that you had met the night prior. “Not the making-out part, though I wouldn’t be opposed. I mean, I’d like the high school date experience.” “Great,” you beamed. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“If we’re not called away on a case,” he confirmed, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind his ear. “Otherwise, I have no prior commitments.”

“Then it’s a date!” You slid into the driver’s seat of your car, rolling down the windows so you could finish making plans. You leaned over so that your head was stuck out of your car, tilting your gaze upwards so that you wouldn’t finish the conversation talking to his dick. “I’ll pick you up at five, okay?”

It didn’t take much for Spencer to agree, a grin overtaking his features as he gave his response. After all, there were worse ways for him to spend his Sunday night.

“I’ll see you at five.”

next. coming soon.

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[i-mushi]

I finished FFVII Remake!

And I kinda want to pretend all the scenes from entering Hojo’s lab onward happened exactly like in the original.

Spoilers below the cut if you haven’t finished

Wh-what was the Kingdom Hearts final battle stuff doing in FFVII? The internet is blowing up with time travel theories of Sephiroth shooting his mind back in time and trying to change fate or somehow learning of his death because it’s sitting in the North Crater feeding off the Planet. But then why did the crew destroy fate if that’s the fate where they defeat Sephiroth? The only person gaining from the destruction of fate was Seph, not AVALANCHE. Was this just a transparent attempt to explain why the plot ahead will be different than original?

I’m not happy about any of that :(

Also, the mood was totally killed as Hojo’s lab dragged on and the trail of purple goo did not lead to the president stabbed in the back. That moment is seared into my memory from my first playthrough: the horror and shock thinking “wait, is there someone else worse than Shinra here?” and “I thought all this security was for me?” as I followed that grisly trail of blood. I get why they had to make that purple goo, it would have probably made it an M rating otherwise. (Also, how could we be denied Barret shouting “Where’s its fucking head?”????) But then there’s zero explanation for how President Shinra is stuck hanging off the balcony (the whispers? Sephiroth? WHY WAS NEITHER MENTIONED THEN) and that whole scene where the president basically proves he’s a sociopathic capitalist to Barret happens, which was unnecessary, we already knew that and that Barret is super upset about being blamed for the plate and hating Shinra (and we were robbed of the opera music while the plate fell too!! salt on the wound!). That tension of never getting the confrontation with the person we THOUGHT was the bad guy, only to realize it’s so much more than that vanished, and instead there’s Barret dying but not (I hate that, I hate every scene where they almost die but the whispers save them, it’s the most deux ex machina thing I’ve ever seen and I write fanfiction), then that super annoying fight with Rufus, and then ten more super annoying fights (MOTORBALL), and then a massive heartless of fate showed up. Oh, and Sephiroth, because apparently we can’t not fight him even though his set up as the arch-villian required an info dump from Aerith ten minutes before. New players lack ANY of the context of Cloud’s backstory with Sephiroth and without the full game get none of the amazing lead up to it, but then there’s also no explanation for why this is intensely personal, which must be kinda weird since no one is also exclaiming “Sephiroth? The guy who’s been dead for 5 years? WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?” 

Lastly, the Midgar Zolom shot where it’s been impaled on a tree is going to lose a lot of it’s oomph now. Chasing after the mysterious man in black was awesome, especially when you get there and realize holy shit this guy is insanely powerful how the hell am i gonna defeat him. Now it’s like, welp, already did that once, so I guess I could impale a dragon/snake on a stick if I wanted.

THERE ARE SOME GOOD THINGS THOUGH

I love the world-building, the depth of Midgar, the way Biggs, Wedge, and Jesse were fleshed out (I wanted to cry when they died damnit, not see Biggs wake the fuck up), the Japanese voices were fantastic (I might play hard mode with the English for flavor), and the MAYOR OF MIDGAR EXPLANATION helped bolster the story enormously except for the Wedge part. I don’t feel like they needed a reason to go to the roof because they learned about the AVALANCHE helicopter ten seconds before finding the trail of not-blood, and Barret could have argued the president should pay for dropping the plate on thousands of innocent lives. Anyway, all the fighting systems were great, the music was insanely awesome, they did a great job hitting the nostalgia points, even the SAVE ICON WAS THE SAME. I was so hyped, I even liked Aerith’s painting on her wall even though I was like, wait a minute, this was way creepier when the doors just randomly became unlocked like a horror game. 

I guess this is both good and bad though. Bad because I didn’t love the ending and I’m worried about the next game, but good because nothing makes me write fanfiction more than fixing the fuck ups canon makes. So yeah, my summer is gonna be spent working on the rewrite. I’ve also been rereading a bunch of it and I think I’m only going to be rewriting the early chapters, probably through the SOLDIER Exam. Past that point my writing got cleaner and more concise, and there were less and less things I was making a note of editing. But the early chapters were written ten years ago and it shows.

BUT DON’T WORRY I’m not going to do what Nomura and Square did to FFVII. This rewrite will be 100% faithful to the original Green Dreams, nothing will change except things will be written more precisely. Honestly, it’s more a massive editing for flow than anything else.

[seyaryminamoto]

"and now, more than ever, I regret… a lot of things that happened while I was there" What exactly is he regretting From my understanding he didn't have a chance to chose anything in Hui Yi? And another question: "Had he been supposed to share all about his intimate encounters with her before they became intimate too? .. and she would have never given him a chance to be with her?" WTF?! Did he not tell her because of that? This was a big shock because I never saw Sokka thinking this way0_0

Do excuse my lack of patience but... are you serious, Anon?

Alright, let’s try and get creative to answer that first question: imagine someone is forcing you to shoot a terminally ill person. The terminally ill person isn’t the one asking you to do it, but they say “it’s fine, I’m gonna die anyways”. This evil, diabolical villain is cackling behind you while clasping your hand in theirs, using your finger to pull the trigger and shoot this terminally ill person!

... Are you going to shrug this situation off in the future, once the terminally ill person is dead, and say “Meh, I have no regrets because I didn’t WANT to pull the trigger so it’s not my fault they died since they were gonna die in the future anyhow”? Can you seriously be stuck in a situation like this one, where you, indeed, have NO CHOICE, and feel zero regrets over the fact that you couldn’t find any solutions, any way to fight back, not even the courage to rebel even if it meant you’d pay for it with your life? :’D

... If you seriously wouldn’t have any regrets in a situation where you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, just for some sicko’s entertainment, and no matter what you choose to do, you’ll feel like shit afterwards, I... I don’t know what to tell you, Anon. I literally wrote Hui Yi as the ugliest, darkest face of the Fire Nation: their entire source of entertainment is to be found in breaking slaves. And, up to the point where Sokka says he regrets what happened while he was there, he hasn’t been able to do ANYTHING to put a stop to the horrors in Hui Yi. So... why shouldn’t he regret that he was forced to do awful things? Why wouldn’t he? Seriously... I don’t know what you want from me. Or from Sokka. I really don’t see how it would be any better if he didn’t regret it, if that’s what you think? Do you really expect it would be easy to rationalize this as “I didn’t do it because I wanted to, someone else made me”, and forget about it forever? Trauma, I’m afraid, doesn’t work that way. You can’t rationalize it away. And yes, I would say, bluntly, that what Sokka experienced in Hui Yi qualifies 100% as trauma. Blunt, simple logic doesn’t apply to the emotions he feels about it.

So, if you really don’t understand what he regrets? It’s ALL of it. Every single time he couldn’t make his own choices, every moment spent doing someone’s bidding, every time his soul broke while waiting to die because that was the only possible chance at freedom he would ever be given. He regrets not being strong enough to fight back, to escape that fate, to turn things around and fix things for everyone else in situations similar to his own. And I’d think that’s perfectly understandable, isn’t it?

As for the second thing... well. I must say it’s just BEAUTIFUL for quotes to be taken out of context, as well as literally removing words of those quotes for the sake of painting Sokka in a worse light than necessary. Let’s see what Sokka ACTUALLY thinks in that scene:

Had he been supposed to share all about his intimate encounters with her before they became intimate too? Probably. But if he had she probably would have been just as indignant as she was now, if not more so, and she would have never given him a chance to be with her at all.

It’s honestly kinda funny: you removed the “Probably” from the ask... when that’s his answer to his own question. He’s acknowledging, despite he’s not thinking too clearly at the moment because he’s angry about their miscomunication problems, that he shouldn’t have gone forward with her until she truly understood what he’d been through and everything he’d done in his past. You could have removed plenty of other words in your ask, if the reason you cut off half the quote was because you were running out of characters, but you deliberately chose to remove Sokka’s acknowledgement of his mistake? That’s some nice cherrypicking on your part, Anon, really nice.

And of course, further proving the fact that this is, without a doubt, cherrypicking: you’re horrified because how could Sokka think something like this?! Yet... he realizes his mistake, right after that line you quoted. I honestly went back to the chapter and checked, because I was sure it couldn’t have been as bad as you were framing it... and it really isn’t :’) what a surprise. LITERALLY the paragraph after what you quoted:

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he should have spoken earlier indeed.

Then, the next one:

The more he thought of this, the more selfish he felt, and the more disgusted he grew with himself. He had never been meant to reach her and he'd always known it. He shouldn't have defied destiny as he had, let alone should he have convinced her that it was a good idea to do so. For, with every new discovery she made about him, the more she realized how broken and messed-up he really was. How was he worthy of her? In what world was he fit for the Princess?

And to finish off the quotes from this chapter, because man, I don’t even know how an entire chapter/arc’s purpose can be misunderstood to such extent, Anon...

he knew well enough that he owed her the full truth. If this was going to end their wonderful run as lovers, she might as well understand the circumstances under which he'd endured what he had. His first two years in the Fire Nation had been a living hell, and he had the feeling she didn't understand just how bad they really had been… 

Sokka realizes this could be the end of their relationship, and he knows that telling Azula the full truth might just accelerate that outcome anyhow. He doesn’t even expect her to take him back anymore. But while thinking this, Sokka decides he has to tell Azula what really happened in Hui Yi. And in the next chapter, he outright tells Azula he understands if his withholding of the truth + his late confession about it all will put an end to their relationship:

"I get it if you decide that I'm just not worth the risk after this," he said, gritting his teeth as he felt his heart churn upon the mere thought of their relationship ending. "It's… it's fine if you do. You have every right to. There's always been too much at stake, and I wasn't completely honest about many things I should have told you about ages ago. So, I won't hold it against you." 

Therefore, dear Anon... please, read the story. The FULL story. Don’t skim it. Don’t skip things. As far as I can tell, Gladiator itself answers your concerns without needing my input to further explain what’s going on. You don’t need to tell me you freaked out about Sokka having foolish thoughts like “If I’d told her she wouldn’t have been with me!” when the very story, about two seconds later, features Sokka realizing that’s no reason to shut up about his past. He feels like crap for not telling her the truth when he should have, he feels like crap for what he was forced to do in Hui Yi too... and yet, correct me if I’m mistaken about your intentions, but it feels like you’re dropping by in my askbox, pointing at these lines as though asking for further punishment for him, maybe? I honestly don’t get it, Anon.

Please... try to have a minimal amount of empathy for him? If just a smidge? Understand where he’s standing, that he’s not a perfect, flawless man who can do no wrong? He’s had to grow a LOT throughout this story, in many ways... and the best way for someone to grow is to learn from their own mistakes. Which he has. Every. Single. Time. Badgering me whenever he does something wrong, only for Sokka himself to acknowledge it’s wrong ten seconds later, and to do his best to fix those mistakes right away, no matter the cost, is honestly a waste of both your time and mine.

So... everything clear yet? Boy, I really hope so.

[alwaysspeakshermind]

Top 5  Anti-Varchie Arguments & Why They Make No Sense

#4: “Varchie’s boring/predictable, love at first sight is so cliché(d).”

Love at first sight is so clichéd? Okay, sure, I’ll allow that.

I’ll even agree.

But think contextually for a sec: love-at-first-sight is so clichéd as opposed to what? The utterly original, never-been-done-before uniqueness of best-friends-to-lovers that Barchie and also Bughead, why do people who say they want to see a friends-to-lovers relationship keep forgetting Bughead’s in that category? represents? The novel concept of enemies-to-lovers that is Cheryl/Toni (and Veggie if you squint)? The dated-in-the-past-but-sparks-still-fly (Falice, Tom Keller/Sierra McCoy, Fred/Hermione) or misunderstood-outsider-falls-in-love-with-“perfect”-America’s Sweetheart (Bughead, and also Kevin/Joaquin, Kevin/Fangs)? 

Come on.

Whether it’s your cup of tea or not, a trope is a trope is a trope. There are only so many combinations possible when it comes to romantic dynamics, and since fiction and reality have both existed for a really long time, there’s no one trope that hasn’t already been done a million times over. So…what’s the point of harping on this particular one? Or any other trope just because it’s not your personal favorite?

Yes, Love At First Sight is the bread-and-butter of many fairytales and/or Disney movies. But it’s by no means alone in that regard. 

Best friends/childhood friends-to-lovers has been a longtime staple of books, TV shows, rom-coms, and musicals (Harry Potter, Kim Possible, 13 Going On 30, Phantom of the Opera, and Lion King all say hello), and so has enemies-to-lovers (27 Dresses, The Proposal, You’ve Got Mail, Tangled, etc.). I’m not even going to bother touching on the sparks-still-fly/loner-loves-”good” kid thing, because the first is the golden goose for Hallmark, Lifetime, an a billion-and-one romance novels, while the second is YA fiction in a nutshell. And if you’re one of those “I can’t help it, friends-to-lovers is my crack” kind of people, it might be worth noting that “Love At First Sight” is plenty of other people’s crack. Also, if your complaint against a trope you find overused is a valid argument, so is someone else’s. Childhood-best-friends-to-lovers may feel newer and unique to you, but it doesn’t to everyone. Some people are as tired of it as you are of Love At First Sight. 

And even if your claim is that “love at first sight’s not realistic/there’s like zero basis for it in the real world/it’s the exception not the rule,” that claim also extends to Childhood Best-Friends-To-Lovers and Enemies-To-Lovers. 

In the real world, the Best-Friends-To-Lovers thing is about as common as Love At First Sight, with the latter maybe being a bit more common, since the overwhelming majority of people tend to notice attraction within the first fifteen minutes of meeting someone and the overwhelming majority of childhood best friends grow up thinking of each other as a sibling. (Important distinction: when childhood best friends do grow up, fall in love and get married, they don’t tend to take until high school/college to figure out how they feel. They’re typically aware of it from puberty/slightly before puberty onward, and it doesn’t change because they already know everything there is to know about that person...they know if they’re attracted to them; they know if they’re not.) And both those tropes are more common in everyday life than enemies-to-lovers since, in truth, most people don’t want to have anything to do with the antagonistic person who made their life miserable.

So realism/unrealism? Kind of a shifting-sands argument. Especially within the context of a show that puts an ex-“gang” member in as sheriff and deputizes other “gang” members, one of whom is named Sweet Pea, of all things. I mean, if you truly feel morally obligated to reality-police Riverdale, there are far more pressing issues than the likelihood of two teens meeting each other one time and deciding within five minutes that “This is The One” (which is not even how it happens except for Archie, but still).

What it really comes down to is not the trope itself, but how well the trope is executed. 

In other words, it’s not what you’re given...it’s what you do with what you’re given. Every trope has been done many times before. Like it or not, that is an undeniable fact. Arguing that something has little-to-no value purely on the basis of its commonality is in essence weighting originality (theory) over style (practical application). To illustrate why this kind of thinking is a critical mistake, let’s put it this way: weighting originality over style is like saying Riverdale Season 3 is better than Riverdale Season 1. 

...Which, as even the most casual of Riverdale viewers knows, is not the case.

Is S3 more ambitious than S1? Yes. Does S3 contain more jaw-dropping plot twists than S1? Absolutely. Are there some damn fun episodes in S3? For sure. But guess what? S3 also contains far more plot holes, inane plot “twists” and contradictory developments/sheer why-are-you-trying-to-make-fetch-happen-with-this-storyline moments because S3 goes so hard for shock value/the unexpected, that it effectively lapses on execution and winds up with a more creative, but ultimately less-compelling finished product than S1. Moral to the story? Creativity is good, but devotion to creativity at the exclusion of all else is not. If a few predictable elements aren’t mixed into an unpredictable world (or vice versa), everything ceases to shock. On Riverdale, because things are always so wild, the biggest surprises are usually when things unfold normally/don’t go haywire.

Now.

Me personally, I’ve shipped every trope at least once. I’m in the habit of making myself set aside all preconceived notions when beginning a new show/book/movie, because I never know what, if any, ship I’ll go for. Historically, I’m about 50-50 on Childhood-best-friends-to-lovers—sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. Enemies-to-lovers—usually, I dig it, sometimes it’s a big, fat no from me, dawg. Love At First Sight however, I am overwhelmingly prejudiced against. And when I say overwhelmingly prejudiced, I mean that as a rule, I flat-out hate it. I find it stupid. It annoys me. I roll my eyes and make jokes.

But, here I am. Writing a bunch of long-ass Tumblr posts in defense of a fictional relationship that makes a direct play on the Love At First Sight trope.

So why are Archie and Veronica my huge exception? 

Well, for one thing, their relationship kicks off in a manner that is highly evocative of the comics. The instant Archie sees Veronica, all of time (for him) stands still. The one solitary thing he’s aware of from the moment she steps into Pop’s and he looks up is her. No matter what he’s doing, he ends up looking at her, and after a very short amount of time, the same goes for Veronica (though of course, she tries to play it cool). Regardless of how I feel about the cheesiness of the trope, the execution of the scene is fricking cute.

For another: it actually is an unusual trope, and I was surprised to see it used. 

Don’t get me wrong, the whole see-a-person-across-a-crowded-room deal is a cliché and it’s a million percent been done to death. But the funny thing is, Love At First Sight is such a clichéd cliché that it’s hardly ever used nowadays. By virtue of its extreme clichédness in fact, it has accidentally and ironically become fresh again because the second someone suggests it, someone else inevitably goes, “Nah, that’s too clichéd, we can’t do that.” In all honesty, I can’t remember one TV show or non-90s-Disney movie I watched in the last ten years where that trope was used over any/all of the other tropes available. I actually intended to make a list of the books/movies/shows I know of that have used the friends/enemies to lovers trope for comparison purposes, but it was getting so long with just the books section I ended up going, “Haha, no,” and scrapped that plan. (But for the record, almost every single Jane Austen novel is on that list.)

So, in summary: Love At First Sight clichéd? Yep. For sure.

Too clichéd?

Nope.

Certainly no more, and arguably less, than the other tropes Riverdale’s many ships adhere to. So if you’re not nonstop complaining about those other ships on the basis of the overdone/predictability factor, it shouldn’t be an issue that Varchie’s relationship is built around a recognizable trope that has been out-of-use by most everyone except Disney for a good while now. (Besides, some tropes are considered timeless for a reason.) 

And seriously, if we’re going to go down the Disney path, let’s stop a second and recall how many Disney Channel shows/movies in the last decade utilized Best-Friends-To-Lovers and Enemies-To-Lovers. Or hey, what about Nickelodeon shows? Or  maybe cop/CSI/civil service-type shows where best friend partners/partners who hate each other eventually fall in love?

Again, a relationship is not automatically made “boring” because it falls within the parameters of a well-known trope, and “predictable” does not automatically mean “bad.” If that were truly the case, no fictional relationship from probably the 18th century onward would have any popularity and/or critical acclaim. And if you try to argue that that’s just how it is for you personally: predictable/clichéd = boring, you should probably keep in mind that when measured by those standards, every single other ship on Riverdale is, by definition, boring. 

Every.

Single.

One.

Not just Varchie. 

So if you really are passionate about Riverdale not focusing on a “boring, predictable, clichéd ship instead of an interesting one,” you might want to take a break from griping about Archie and Veronica and start examining exactly how original those "interesting” ships you’re touting actually are. And if that’s not really what you mean, if you don’t really buy into the line you’re selling (i.e., you’re just using “they’re so boring” as an excuse to disguise the fact that you don’t like Varchie because they prevent your preferred ship from happening), you might also want to consider just being honest about that. 

Because when you build your argument around a point that encompasses more relationships than just the one you’re criticizing, it makes you look like you’re either extremely clueless in not realizing that your complaint also applies to your ship/other ships, or else a giant hypocrite.

[whitehotharlots]

Handicapping the 2020 Dem primary

Tier Four

The Tom Vilsack Memorial “No Chance in Hell” Tier

These are the candidates whose family members won’t even vote for them. They will drop out either before or immediately after Iowa. Some of them will be working specifically to plant the seeds of a 2024 run, while others are auditioning for an MSNBC gig.

Joe Kennedy

Any person who is simultaneously old enough and illiterate enough to have any fondness for the Kennedys is 100% in the Trump camp. Joe has zero appeal outside of this voting bloc, which literally does not exist. He won’t even win Massachusetts--won’t even be in the top five in Massachusetts.

Michael Avenatti

My man ain’t even announced his run and he’s already facing domestic assault charges. A potential Avenatti run had a mystical WWF vibe to it. I will admit, I was excited, the same as I’d be excited to finally pull alongside the accident that caused the pile up. No one has any idea what his policies are, because neither does he. He might honestly beat Trump in the general, as he is far and away the most likely candidate to physically assault Trump if the two ever share a stage (any Dem who punches Trump will be automatically 100% guaranteed to win the election). But he probably won’t even run.

Mitch Landrieu

Mitch will appeal to that small demographic of erstwhile independent voters who were drawn to Trump solely because he is an openly corrupt grifter. By May he will be a panel participant on a new MSNBC show that’s like Shark Tank but but all the contestants are trying to get the panel to fund their medical gofundme’s.

Eric Holder

Like every other member of the Obama administration, his faults are glaring and the relatively good stuff he did takes way too much context for most voters to understand. Under his leadership, the DoJ began began to litigate hate crimes, which had been almost completely neglected under Bush. That’s good. Also, under his leadership, the DoJ stalwartly refused to prosecute the war criminals who lied us into Iraq or the bankers who tanked the world economy. That’s bad. Politically, he has the platform of a Republican circa 1992. Personally, he has the charisma of a very dry snail.

Steve Bullock

He looks and sounds like the dumb guy sidekick of an old cartoon villain. He is therefore the Bebop/Rocksteady of the field. His policies are indistinguishable from any other civil moderate/fiscal conservative candidate, and his moistness will drive away both donors and media . (NOTE: With Bullock, the Avenatti Rule applies: if he threatens to physically assault Trump or any member of Trump’s family--especially including Baron--he will rocket to the top of the pack. If he actually assaults them, he will win the general election and usher in a glorious Centrist Utopia)

Kristen Gillibrand

She was once considered a front-runner for the same reason Corey Booker kinda sorta still is a frontrunner--because she looks similar to a previous Dem nominee, and many liberal strategists and commentators cannot conceive of a politics beyond identity markers. Trouble is, unlike Booker, Gillibrand pissed off her donor base by leading the the charge against Al Franken. I don’t for a second think that Gillibrand’s efforts had anything to do with principles. She just leaned into the wrong direction of the skid of cynicism: if there’s one thing Democrat donors hate, it’s a candidate who appears to adhere to any kind of moral framework. And Gillibrand is not the sort of candidate who stands a chance without full institutional support.

Tier Three

The “Gormless Dweebs” Tier

These people might stick around until late in the game for the same reason they’d stay at a house party until well after they were no longer welcome. Each also possesses a very particular strain of weirdness that might resonate with voters in New Hampshire enough that they’d finish in the top 3, but none has a realistic chance to live past Super Tuesday.

Martin O’Malley

O’Malley is the Democrat John Kasich. He’s mostly running because he wants to have people to talk to. Several New Hampshire people will nod at him and that will be it. 

Terry McAuliffe

Imagine if Joe Lieberman were a governor and slightly less physically repulsive. He is still a very moist man, and his only moments of attention will come when he criticizes one of the more left-leaning candidates after they point out that the Iraq war didn’t go so good. (Let me ask Senator Sanders a question. We he says that global warming is the biggest threat we face... has he ever heard of ISLAM?” *Tufts University crowd goes wild*)  Terry might come in top 3 in Virginia, and he also might stick around if a frontrunner is facing some kind of big scandal. But his main effect on this debate will be that of a zebra mussel on the side of a leaky rowboat, hoping it fills with just enough water that he’ll be able to slither aboard for the last few minutes before it sinks.

Elizabeth Warren

Warren is one of small handful of Dem candidates whose economic politics fall to the left of Margaret Thatcher. That doesn’t really work for her, though, because it’s hard for a quiet dweeb to project any sense of populism. She’d be a significantly less horrible president than most on this list, probably. But there’s no way she would beat Trump head to head. He can bait her with literally any claim and her response will always be “golly gee I will refute this man with logic and evidence and then those who repeated his taunts will surely see the error of their ways.” By August, it would get to the point where she’d be sending out topless pics to prove she really doesn’t have several teats and therefore is not a pregnant dog, as Trump suggested. But thankfully she will have flamed out long before that.

Tier 2

The “Viable Candidates Who Are Gonna Get Rat Fucked Really Hard” Tier

Sherrod Brown

Same general platform as Bernie, only without the voting record, name recognition, or widespread appeal. We are also living in an age where crudity is now taken for a sign of sincerity, and while he does kinda give off a “disheveled history teacher” vibe, that’s not enough to really combat Trump. Trump can only really be beaten by a platform, not a personality, so Brown might have a chance. But he’ll also almost certainly bow out before Super Tuesday. My guess he won’t be able to take the heat nearly as well as Bernie and he’s gone before Iowa.

Bernie

Bernie will win New Hampshire. He will win for the same reason he won it in 2016: he’s well-known there, he will be the only believable candidate running on a civil libertarian platform. He will win it by a bigger margin, because the Establishment field will be more split. He will win Iowa for the same reasons: much more name recognition now. Pledged delegates-wise, he will be far and away the frontrunner after the first two contests, although on-screen graphics will continue to present him as a longshot, due to superdelegates. He will then square off in a contest between 1-2 of the following candidates, whom the establishment will rally behind. He could win the nomination, but you and I literally cannot imagine the absurdity of the smears he will face. If he wins the nomination he wins the general Reagan vs. Mondale-style, and we might narrowly avoid civilization collapse. There’s only about a 25% of that happening, though.

Tier 1

The “If the Establishment Unites Behind Any One of These People They Will Beat Bernie for the Nom Then Get Stomped by Trump” Tier

None of these candidates would have a realistic chance against Trump, but each of them is well positioned to take advantage of the unique corruption of the Democratic Party. Our only real hope--as a society and a species--is that they manage to split the vote between themselves.

Kamela Harris

Did you watch HBO’s The Jinx? It’s about a weird, repulsive millionaire serial killer who keeps evading justice. She was the prosecutor who tried to convict him. To stress: she could not convict Robert Derst. She’s running in the right direction, though, (disingenuously) espousing some populist positions while hoovering up donor cash. She could very well wait this thing out and then see the donors line up behind her enough so that he "victory” is called by the AP right before the California primary.

Beto

Centrism couldn’t win in Texas, even with a candidate who was immensely more appealing than his opponent. That’s exactly what Centrism is designed to do, and it didn’t do it. It failed. It will always fail. Still, Beto is very handsome and very shameless and not Republican-level evil, which means he will make some money and also sway some idiots. But he’s not nearly connected enough, yet, to win the nom. He will come close however, and bow out at the right time so as to not burn any bridges. Beto will be the nominee in 2024, when he will narrowly win the popular vote but lose the electoral college to Immortum Joe.

Corey Booker

Laugh if you must, but Booker appeals strongly to the exact strain of idiocy that controls the strategy within the Democratic Party: He is a black male...  like Obama! That means he will win, since Obama did. Yes, anyone who spends a few minutes studying Booker will realize he lacks Obama’s intelligence, wit, and oratorical ability. But that’s not how the Democratic establishment understands politics: they believe, genuinely, that the way to win is to raise the most money while being in possession of the correct identity markers. Should a candidate do this and lose, as Hillary did, it was the inevitable result of machinations outside of their control. Ergo, we must appoint the anointed one and see if he pleases the gods. Plus, if you mute the TV and squint, Booker totally looks like Obama!

Hillary

The main benefits of wokeness--why it has so many adherents, so far as I can tell--is that it allows certain people to skirt all responsibility for everything they say and do, even as it forces others to attempt to adhere to literally impossible programmatics of speech and comportment. And so Hillary’s recent nativist turn will be forgiven (it will most likely go unmentioned), while Bernie’s wardrobe and posture will be used as evidence of his sexism. She can continue making jokes about Colored People Time, while any of her competitors will be crucified for not using the exact right terms in describing whatever happen to be the Woke Cause of the Day. This insulation from criticism is Hillary’s biggest strength with the Democrat electorate, while her fiscal conservatism will continue to help her with donors. She will get beaten horribly in the general, but still stands a strong chance in the primary.

Joe Biden

I have no idea how this man is leading in some polls other than name recognition. Which--don’t get me wrong, name recognition is huge, especially in early goings within a crowded primary field. But what does Biden bring to the table, policy-wise or personality-wise? I realize the people who bleat about how they don’t want any more OLD. WHITE. MALES. running for president are just trying to make their cruel centrist politics appear radical--but could they be shameless enough to actually throw their support to Biden? Biden, the dude who most certainly would have been MeToo’d were he still in a position of power? Biden, the pro-war economic conservative who repeatedly says that young people just need to stop whining? That’s the guy you’re gonna run against Trump? Probably. I would take a 50/50 bet on him winning the nomination.

Final odds:

Biden: 1:1

Hillary 1.5:1

Bernie 4:1

Booker 8:1

Beto 10:1

Harris 12:1

Field (including only aforementioned candidates): 30:1

[aplaceforthesoul]

Anonymous submitted:

Advice

Hi. I really need some advice. I’m in my first year of uni and obviously it’s all online now. Each week in our zoom classes we get put into random ‘breakout rooms’ and meet a bunch of people. Obviously there isn’t much time to socially interact because we have assigned work to do. However, there have been a number of instances where I’ve met people who seem somewhat nice and people I’d potentially want to be friends with. Despite that, I don’t really know how to really initiate a friendship with them in a non weird, non awkward way. The first point of contact would be email but I have no clue what to say (well I did draft something out but I’m afraid they’ll be so weirded out thinking like we only talked for a few minutes and now she’s emailing me wanting to talk more and be friends, what a complete weirdo, how desperate can someone be etc). Also once we email and then text or whatever, it’s really hard to develop let alone maintain a friendship that is solely online. What would we talk about? How often is considered normal to text?

To give you some context (since it may come across like I am a socially inept idiot), I have never actually had true friends in my life. I’ve gone above and beyond for people and tried so hard to be the best friend anyone could want and never got anything in return, putting in all the effort and being there and no one giving a fuck about me in the end. Everyone takes friendships for granted and I would kill to experience one true friendship. Also in this quarantine where people are constantly moaning about how it’s so awful to be away from their friends does my head in, I would give anything to have people like that in my life. Anyway I try to distract myself but sometimes when I sit idly or just lie awake with my thoughts at night, I realise how truly alone I am and feel so fucking empty inside. It’s just me and my parents. I don’t have any siblings and the family I actually care about are all across the world. So I suppose this is question is in parts.

I do want to know how exactly to start a friendship with people I’ve met through random allocation into groups online in a completely natural, confident manner, like a step by step manual because sometimes I’m not even sure I remember how to make friends anymore because it’s been so long. Like what exactly to write in an email and how to keep communication going via text, how to actually start a friendship that is strictly online and how to then suggest to meet up once this is over all like a normal person. I have a tendency to be clingy at the start which people never understand is because I’ve never had a friend so at the start it’s something so exciting and dear to me and I feel so out of the loop, I don’t know how often to text someone to have a healthy friendship but that doesn’t appear needy and annoying.

Also, there is one more thing. I’ve gone to all girls schools my whole life and as a result have been completely isolated from guys. In all honesty, even if I have had like zero contact with a person in the male species, I can already tell as time goes on and I finally make friends, I will end up with more guy friends. But the thing is, I have absolutely no clue how to talk to guys (in a completely platonic way mind you), and as I’ve said, I am not particularly well versed in the social nuances being void of friendships so I don’t know whether emailing a guy a similar message about wanting to talk more and then meet up once this whole pandemic is over would suggest things I obviously don’t mean. Like I don’t want any guy to get the wrong impression that me contacting them is anything other than a friendship. I feel like nowadays the slightest thing can be misconstrued and I don’t want any guy to get weirded out because they misinterpret me wanting to be friends as something it’s not. But I also just generally feel so alone and I don’t deserve to. I always tried so hard to be a good friend to others and I got nothing in return from toxic people who never actually cared about me. Apologies for the rambling. Thank you if you made it to the end lol.

hi there :) about your online classes, zoom and wanting to become friends with some of the people in the classes? social media is where it’s at 😌

I find emails quite a formal way of introducing yourself to someone? 0: and unless it’s work / school related, not many people I know of use email much anyway! social media is a lot more relaxed and informal, it’s what everyone uses in some form or another so it makes it much easier to get replies from people and to start building a friendship. if you don’t have social media, would you consider making an account? instagram and facebook are two of the big ones when it comes to both public posts and private conversations, it’s easier to create new friendships if you’re both using the same platform. 

I agree that it’s hard to maintain friendships that are solely online, but it doesn’t have to be that way. even if all of your university classes are now online due to coronavirus, that doesn’t mean that everything has to be there. when lockdown measures start to lift, you could maybe suggest to meet up and grab a coffee? or create a study group? there’s lots of ways of to keep friendships going in real life without always needing online support. you could talk about anything haha, the weather, what they got up to on the weekend?! ask lots of questions and get to know them better, don’t be afraid to share parts of your personal life too :) talking a few times a week would be best when starting off a new friendship -- too much contact and they might feel a little overwhelmed, not enough and suddenly there’s a bit too much distance and things feel weird. 

it’s a bit hard for me to give a step-by-step manual, because most friendships occur organically and naturally? also, everyone’s different! there’s no one set rule or manual that you can follow and things will work every time, sometimes it’s a trial and error process. what I do know however, is that the more you practice something then the better you are at it and the more natural it feels. a few general tips: smile if you’re chatting to them on zoom / skype / video call, use emojis if appropriate, maybe throw in a nice compliment about something they’re wearing or how they’ve styled their hair? being nice to someone and making them feel good and confident about something never hurts :* this post here could be helpful to check out as well, give it a read and see what you think.

if you don’t want future guy friends to get the wrong impression about meeting up? just be honest and clear about what you want :) communicate the fact that you wanna be a friend, maybe drop hints of a “partner” to make it clear that you’re not interested in anything sexual etc. communication is key!! in any relationship, be it romantic or platonic or otherwise. treat guys as you would anyone else haha, they’re human just like you and me. say hi, smile and have open body language, ask questions, get to know them on a more personal level, share aspects of your life too, take it one day at a time. I hope this helps you lovely, all the best <3

- tash

[isuzukuretsuki]

Ikemen Revolution - Edgar’s Route

Sirius | Lancelot | Fenrir

aka the sexiest man in the entire red army the entire cast. the hottest stud in the military. the most gorgeous boy in Alice’s harem. the man who will satisfy your wishes and desires, the man who will make your hopes and dreams come true.

THE SMOOTHEST TALKER EVER

it’s been over a month since I finished Edgar’s route but here is his long awaited and very delayed scream fest. I wrote this up bit by bit over the course of two months but I never had the time to sit down and proof read it until now because of school and I didn’t want to post something half assed because it’s Edgar! Also this is uhh... really freaking long LOOL. As usual, if you you want my actual serious final thoughts on the route, just skip to the final blurb. 

Now with literally every red army route so far (except Jonah), OF COURSE the Black Army mofos send Alice off with more NAMELESS, FACELESS soldiers who can’t do shit in the face of kidnappers, and end up getting their ass kicked, leaving poor Alice completely defenseless. This time around, the kidnappers make off with Alice’s belongings into the sunset so Alice can’t return home.

That is until our dashing gentleman aka Edgar comes in going like hey baby I’ll help you find your stuff so won’t you please come home to bed with me and of course Alice accepts because he’s a damn hot stud.

Aw Kyle don’t say that ;;;;;.

SO PRECIOUS.............

I’m going to say it right now but Edgar is ADORABLE. Literally the first half of his route is just him and Alice bonding over their love of candy and playing with animals. Edgar even takes Alice out to see a family of ducks he takes care of and he refers to them as his own family and fucking named them “The Creeks” JUST HOW PRECIOUS CAN HE GET???? Considering how Edgar is portrayed as that “evil scheming asshole here to ruin everyone’s day” in everyone else’s route, I didn’t expect him to be so sweet BUT HE IS SUCH A GOD DAMN SWEETIE as you can see I’m infinitely biased towards LIs who like animals.

What... a .... fucking... dork

lmao @ Lancelot trying to act like a do-s when he’s the complete opposite of that. This man doesn’t have a single sadistic bone in his body... he’s just a big mushy teddy bear.

WHAT A FUCKING BIG MUSHY TEDDY BEAR, BOTH OF YOU.

The red army boys are a bunch nerds you just can’t help but fall in love with after going through their routes... especially Edgar’s! I love them all so much.

OH NO MY BABY DON’T SAY THAT PLEASE.

lmao I love the blatant acknowledgement. But also mood.

Anyway after Zero zeros in on Edgar being a sketchy prick, Edgar mopes around some more because “shit Zero is exactly right” and he has a realization that he has Feelings In His Chest. Of course Alice catches on so she bakes him some super unhealthy cookies to make him feel better (ღ˘⌣˘ღ).

I MEAN... I DON’T BLAME HIM, BECAUSE SAME.

Edgar starts disappearing into the night to do “”family business”” for his totally-not-evil-uncle and I SWEAR to god at the time I was like “this mofo’s deadass going around murdering people” and now I’m just like .... ha ha.

One day Alice stumbles across Edgar coming home from “”family business”” and rushes out to greet him, only for him to freak the fuck out and hide his hands behind his back. SERIOUSLY I THOUGHT HIS HANDS WERE BLOOD SOAKED. Alice’s like wtf you doing and yanks his hands out only to find them freezing cold BECAUSE HE WAS BUSY WASHING THE BLOOD OFF OF THEM.

This is one of my favourite scenes JUST.... WARMTH... THE TENDERNESS.... THE FONDNESS.... THE SHEER AFFECTION SHE HAS FOR HIM IS SO MAGNETIZING. The god damn romantic connotations is overflowing it’s practically on the same level as a damn love confession without the actual confession of love.

I love that sort of duality between their relationship being built on fake premises, but is actually very genuine at its core. Edgar may have saved Alice with ulterior motives, but his kindness towards her both when they first met and their interactions after that was very real. It’s through little things in the writing like Alice commenting on how Edgar’ hands were warm that makes it all the more endearing and heart wrenching.

AGAIN--OH NO MY BABY DON’T SAY THAT PLEASE.

lmao never change, Jonah. Never change.

narrator: she was not fine.

look everything in this game may be a rip off but those LI-perspective side stories are just..............IT’S OKAY MY HEART IS ALREADY MADE OF DIAMOND.

Anyhoo the war between the two armies are starting to get Heated Up™ and Edgar requests Lancelot to go scouting in enemy territory alone, but Lancelot refuses bc it’s dangerous. Honestly idk what’s so dangerous about it considering how Sirius’s route was pretty much Edgar vs Black Army and the Black Army still had trouble but ANYWAY. Alice finds out and gets pissed and they end up arguing, to which everyone starts celebrating and clinking wine glasses in toasts because “holy shit Edgar actually has emotions?!” 😂😂

MY GUY LOL WHAT IS THIS.

In Edgar’s route, you don’t say “I love you”, you say THIS. SERIOUSLY MY HEART HURTS SO BAD ESPECIALLY WITH THE CONTEXT OF EDGAR’S CHARACTER AND THE STORY OF THIS ROUTE.

After Edgar’s leaves on his scouting trip Claudius decides it’s a good time to come out into the limelight and ruin some people’s lives for fun so he sends Alice a letter going like “yo here’s a plot convenient key to Edgar’s safe where he keeps his weed stash so you can see the truth that your boyfriend is a PIECE OF SHIT”. And Alice is all like “ay Edgar isn’t a piece of shit, I’m sure this is just a prank!”

too bad it isn’t.

Zero takes Alice to Edgar’s safe and seriously I was on the edge of my seat wondering wtf was in his safe. I suspected it was gonna be her belongings but with the suspense they kept building in this part I wouldn’t have been surprised if there were fucking dead bodies in that locker.

So on the bright side, there were no dead bodies in the safe. On the not so bright side, Alice finds all the letters she wrote to the Black Army, as well as warning letters from them she never received so it turned out Edgar was fabricating the letters she was exchanging with the Black Army all this time. OH GOODIE.

GAHHHH NO EDGAR. 

SERIOUSLY can we talk about how good the writing in this route is?!?  All the dialogue and monologues are just structured in a way that gets to my emotions. I fucking cried during this scene because Alice’s emotions and despair was so raw and powerful and the way Edgar just silently took all her verbal abuse because he couldn’t defend himself but he was breaking with every word she said ...... ABLHEAJTARTHEATHJAEKHT.

Anyway Alice miraculously somehow escapes the Red Army Headquarters and races back to the Black Army in one piece seriously girl did you run an entire evening without stopping to black territory??? Adrenaline mixed with terror is something only for the surprise plot convenience robbers to make a reappearance. Fortunately, our MVP Luka dashingly swoops in and saves her. He brings her back to Black Territory and cooks her dinner and is there to comfort her MPH...BABY BOY IS SO SOFT AND SWEET...................

Alice completely breaks down and ME FUCKING TOO. She can’t really say much other than a strangled sob of “You know Luka, I had a lot of fun at the Red Army. Edgar treated me really, really well” or something like that and honestly that’s also she really needed to say to convey her heartbreak and betrayal. 

lol I can imagine Edgar doing that.

THANKS I’M FUCKING DEPRESSED NOW.

Luka reveals that he and Edgar were long time friends and muses to Alice on what he’s known about Edgar throughout the years. He drops this information on Alice not to necessarily tell her how to feel, but just as food for thought for Alice as she sorts out her feelings.

THANKS I’M EVEN MORE FUCKING DEPRESSED NOW. Also this is hands down the most powerful admittance of love this game has given me.

lmao never change Seth, never change.

Anyhoo Claudius McDoucheMuffin gets into contact with Alice and is all like “hey girl I got your purse.” And for some reason, Alice thinks he’s perfectly trustworthy ¯\_(ツ)_/¯¯.

ALICE....ABOUT THAT....

OH NO.

Well yeah what do you know ha ha, Claudius kidnaps Alice because THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS EVERY FUCKING TIME THE BLACK ARMY SENDS A NAMELESS BODYGUARD OUT TO PROTECT HER.

Claudius takes Alice to outside Amon’s sex dungeon where Edgar is there lovingly waiting for her. Edgar is slightly surprised to see Alice and is rurl pissed over his daddy uncle manhandling her so he makes Claudius give them some alone time in the carriage while he removes Alice’s ropes and dresses her wounds. Alice isn’t keen on it but she realizes that “holy shit Claudius may be a bigger piece of shit than Edgar” so she lets him spill his token tragic backstory to her.

This is so god damned painful.......

jesus christ this puts the whole “In the Bright family, loving people is practically forbidden” into context. 

This makes me wonder what would become of Edgar in the other routes where his pact isn’t abolished-- would he really marry if this was the fate he knew his wife and children would go through, or would he just stay single and let his lineage die with him?

Unfortunately, their touching reunion doesn’t last long because Claudius is pretty much banging on their carriage door going like 

“time’s up bitches we got work to do” and pretty much barges in and yanks Alice away from Edgar.

Bring it, asshat.

Claudius unceremoniously marches Alice straight into the thick of Amon’s sex dungeon while Edgar reluctantly dallys along with the Concerned Kermit Face the entire time. Amon pretty much ditches Lance for his new buddy Claudius so they can TAKE OVER THE WORLD HUR DUR. Him and Claudius cackle about their evil plans and Alice realizes that Edgar was more or less being manipulated by them and he’s not the Actual Worst. Amon then orders Alice to be thrown into his Personal Chambers™.

Jesus christ, YOU ARE SUCH AN ASS, CLAUDIUS.

DON’T MIND ME I’M JUST BEING EMO.

We cut back to Amon and Alice and Amon does his typical evil villain monologue, takes off his hood and....

(屮゜Д゜)屮(屮゜Д゜)屮(屮゜Д゜)屮 HE HAS A CHARACTER DESIGN?!?!?!?!

I KID YOU NOT THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME I SAW AMON WITHOUT HIS HOOD AND I WAS SHOOKED TO MY FUCKING BONES. I DIDN’T THINK HE’D ACTUALLY HAVE A PROPER CHARACTER DESIGN. It was three in the morning when I played this and I literally just put my phone down and laid in my bed staring at the ceiling as I contemplated my life choices after that.

After that shocking revelation, Amon throws Alice into the dungeons for Edgar to dashingly swoop in and save. It’s the full moon so he takes her to the gates of hell Hole That No Player Ever Wants To See. Now if this was a black army route, the suitor would have thrown Alice’s sad ass straight down that hole but this isn’t a black army route so we’re spared from that. Instead we have Alice CHUCKING ALL OF HER POSSESSIONS INTO THE HOLE ((((；゜Д゜))), effectively sealing her fate of ever going back. I get it’s supposed to be a power move but my only thoughts were “WHAT IF EDGAR DIDN’T ACTUALLY RETURN YOUR FEELINGS LMAO?!” I mean it’s an otome game so of course Edgar loves her back but can you imagine how awkward it’d be if Alice was like “I’m not going back because I love you!” and Edgar’s just like “...but I don't  feel the same”. YEESH.

On a less superficial level, I was still really sad because didn’t they make a promise to go to London together one day? ໒( •́ ∧ •̀ )७ I know it wasn’t really a promise but still! Chances are all gone now.

Edgar: Alice, I’m an actual murderer. Alice: NAH, YOU’RE JUST A WEIRDO, EDGAR! (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`) ♡

I AM SO FUCKING EMO.

Also!!! HE’S THE ONLY BOY SO FAR WHO HAS A KISS CG IN HIS ROUTE. (haven’t played Ray’s route yet so idk about him). You have all these Spicy CGs of the boys and Alice in sexually compromising positions and you have Actual Sex Scenes and yet this game barely has any kiss cgs LOL?! What gives?! 

He’s so romantic (ఠ్ఠ ˓̭ ఠ్ఠ).

Since Edgar’s officially betrayed Claudius, he pretty much duels him and kicks his ass and arrests him. Unfortunately, arresting Claudius doesn’t absolve Edgar of his crimes and he’s still put on trial with Lancelot and Ray as the judges. This scene kind of weirded me out because Edgar says some mumbo jumbo about how he’s going on trial so he can “become a man worthy of Alice’s love” like uHHH boy you being worthy of her love ain’t gonna mean jack shit if you’re in jail. Unless you want a nice steamy serving of this ending.

Okay I’m not trying to sound like I’m justifying murder but akjheakthake just FLEETING THOUGHTS YA KNOW. This scene was hella predictable and played out exactly like we’d all know (Edgar doesn’t go to jail hurray!) but even still the trial made me SO EMOTIONAL I STARTED CRYING LMAOO.

Oh Jonah, I know a game you’d love.

Romantic Ending:

Now that things finally calmed down, Alice and Edgar go on a date with Luka tagging along and  Jonah acting as the fourth wheel, much to Luka’s chagrin. (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) ♫･*:.｡. .｡.:*･

NEVER CHANGE JONAH, NEVER CHANGE.

Out of all the pet names my fictional boyfriend could give me, being called an angel is my number one favourite IT’S JUST SO SOFT AND MAKES MY HEART GO DOKI FUCKING DOKI YA FEEL.

is it a sin that I imagined Edgar going full blown chokemedaddy yandere jealous.... not exactly a romantic thought in the romantic ending, bUT FLEETING THOUGHTS, FLEETING THOUGHTS.

LUKA IS SO GOD DAMN PRECIOUS KILL ME NOW.

AHHH WHY ARE YOU SO CUTE.....

-------

Honestly I’m not even gonna mince words-- I loved this route and everything that came with it.

Before I go on my rampage, shout out to Luka for being the MVP supporting character in Edgar’s route. It’s hard to imagine them being friends considering how clashing their personalities are but their friendship was surprisingly heartwarming and endearing. 

I don’t even know how to articulate my thoughts on what made this route so perfect. For starters, Edgar and Alice have amazing chemistry and their personalities compliment each other well. Their bonding and budding friendship was really endearing and felt very believable. From little superficial antics like sharing candy and taking care of animals and going on silly dates, to more blatant portrayals of the depth of their love like Alice cupping Edgar’s hand to her cheek when he was vulnerable, or Edgar straight up betraying his only family to save her. 

Alice’s circumstances of being someone from another world really complimented Edgar’s character. Edgar is a character who lived in a gilded cage his entire life--trapped by his occupation and bound by dirty blood. He’s never once known freedom or has ever had any agency over his life, but Alice shatters that equation. Alice is completely unrelated to the Red Army, or Cradle entirely. She knows nothing about his occupation or his history, and so Edgar is drawn to her because there are no division of titles between them. To her, him being the Jack of Hearts is irrelevant.

He says that without her, he gets “bored”. In the game, he complains that he’s “always bored”. Using “bored” to describe a character usually makes that character seem fickle and that they can’t be serious about anything because everything is just a means to kill time. But in the context of Edgar’s character, “bored” really means “dull”, “lifeless”, or “forced to find happiness through short lived and temporary means”. He copes with his oppression and lack of freedom by chalking up all of his feelings as just boredom. And he’s not wrong-- a life where you can’t make any of your own choices or choose your own path is indeed, very boring.

He constantly calls Alice his “special guest” which on top of being an adorable nickname, carries really heavy connotations. She’s an ethereal guest from another world, from outside of Edgar’s tiny world which he always wanted to expand. I LOVED the scene where Alice says she would like to take Edgar to London with her one day, because it’s the first time you see Edgar start to doubt his world. He’s accepted that his world is small and oppressive, but the first time, it’s almost like Edgar entertains the idea of breaking free from his bird cage.

I want to compliment the relationship development between the two, which was WONDERFULLY paced, something that pitifully cannot necessarily be said about in some of the other routes. Them falling in love felt very natural and the writers did not have to rely on shallow monologues like “he breathed in my direction, what is this feeling in my chest?!” to convince me that they were in love with each other. And when the admittance of love finally happens, it happens at very pivotal moments in the story that just makes the scene so much more emotional. 

Freaking 3k+ words and I still don’t think I did Edgar’s route justice. His route was amazingly written, and Edgar is an amazingly multifaceted and endearing character. Best boy truly got best route.

Anyway I’m almost done Loki’s route; Ray is next. After that, the routes I’m REALLY looking forward to and hope do not disappoint are: Harr, Seth, Kyle, and Luka.

[keyofjetwolf]

Elisabeth: Hate

Poking around at this one is a bit off-script, and I hope @iatheia won’t mind too terribly much that I’m being self-indulgent by going here. I think the sequence for “Hate” though is intensely well done, historically honest, and tonally vital to Rudolf’s character as we enter what is, essentially, his arc in the musical. It’s entirely missing from the Takarazuka version, and I think there’s a conversation to be had in its exclusion, and what responsibilities lie in an adaptation grounded in history. But that’s a conversation not for this post, so for now I’ll simply say that while I understand the Takarazuka version shying away from going here, I think it’s the strongest single example of hollowing itself out. When I was liveblogging it, and so lacking any other version knowledge to compare it to, I found Rudolf a paper thin character whose motivations I could never really wrap myself around. Now, having added the Essen version to my experience, OF COURSE I didn’t get him, I was never given the chance.

Which isn’t to say, of course, that the Takarazuka brought us nothing.

BECAUSE OH DID IT FRIENDS

For Essen Rudolf, however, we’re shown what he sees coming, we know what he knows will happen if he does nothing, and we do it all with the perspective of knowing he was absolutely correct. His struggle and eventual suicide becomes so much more sympathetic AND infuriating, complicating our feelings toward him and making him so more complicated in the process.

So yeah, let’s take a second for a little hate, shall we?

I really love how this is staged, I have to say first up. The chorus emerges from the mist on Rudolf’s repeating echo of “HATE!” They quickly consume the stage, and yet Franz Joseph doesn’t notice them, doesn’t hear, never sees. And that’s incredibly intentional. He doesn’t hurry off stage as this portion begins, he lingers, thoughtful on Rudolf’s words, then walks away, taking the full length of the stage, walking with purpose but very calmly. This serves to contrast in a really fantastic way with Rudolf at the end of the song, so keep this in mind as I’ll touch back on it in a bit.

There is, I have no doubt, a metric fuckton of historical significance and nuance here that I’m not getting. WIKIPEDIA CAN ONLY FILL IN SO MANY GAPS. World War I is a spotty and sketchy thing for most Americans. It’s a complicated clusterfuck that’s not so easily put into “good guys” versus “bad guys”. IT’S A LOT EASIER TO KNOW YOU’RE THE GOOD GUYS WHEN YOU’RE SHOOTING NAZIS. (Though let’s stand in awe of how that’s becoming a more controversial statement every day.) (WOW I’M DEPRESSING MYSELF OKAY BACK TO THE MUSICAL)

My mother and her side are all English, so I’d heard stories about WWI in ways that it impacted my family. I did a bit of reading, because sometimes I like to know things. And I’ve tried to refresh myself and build more knowledge after having watched the Takarazuka, so I’d have more context. But still, I feel I know basically fuck all, so I’m pretty sure lots of details will fly over me. There’s a lot to get here though, even in the broad strokes.

The space left by Franz Joseph as he exits the stage is quickly filled with demonstrators calling for a stronger leader. I SEE YOU MUSICAL. It quickly gets worse.

Hate and violence to those who aren’t with us and those who spread here we will chase off!

NATIONALISM IS A HELL OF A DRUG KIDS. If you aren’t INSERT COUNTRY HERE, GTFO, and  then it gets better!

With socialists and pacifists we won’t waste time anymore!

The Jewish writers and the Jewish women will be our ruin!

If you aren’t the right KIND of countryman, a “real” citizen with the “correct” thoughts and values, we’re coming for you, too. And what’s that? Ahh, the delicate fragrance of rampant antisemitism wafting on the breeze! I’M SURE THAT WON’T HAVE ANY PLAY IN FUTURE EUROPE.

I do think it’s interesting though, in like a desperately efficient and terrifying way, how they very specifically drill down that antisemitism to Jewish writers (the spread of ideas) and Jewish women (the spread of people). It encapsulates the utter blinding hatred of Jews so well that I both admire the writing skill and feel sick at the same time. Kudos? I guess??

The demonstration continues. The hate builds. More and more people join on-stage. The lighting gradually increases, the chanting grows louder. No longer whispers in the shadow, but heart-felt declarations made public.

It’s legitimizing. It’s spreading.

Now not just “demonstrators”, but government leaders, reporters informing the public, educators teaching the next generation. So that’s awesome!

Someone wanders through all this and wonders what’s going on. Lucheni joins him and answers, and I’ve spent a bit of time on why Lucheni, and why now. To this point, he’s been lingering on the fringes. As our guide and narrator, he’s outside of time, with the unique perspective of how all the pieces fit together. I think he’s coming in now as a critic, with his usual mix of irreverent anger, to very directly condemn what we see building. Which may seem like a no-brainer, but I’ll point out again how fucking relevant every second of this is to the world right now on this beautiful day in May 2019.

ANYWHO, the passerby wonders what’s going on. “A demonstration, signore,” Lucheni explains. “Nationalists, antisemites, supporters of Schönerer.”

(“Who’s Schönerer?” I innocently asked Wikipedia. “HITLER’S INSPIRATION.” Wikipedia replies.  “oh.”)

“Outrageous!” the passerby says, visibly startled by this news.

“The 20th century. It’s approaching!” And with this, Lucheni walks off-stage, paying no mind as the passerby is viciously beaten with his own cane by the demonstrators.

Those demonstrators once again swarm the stage, spitting at the beaten passerby and reiterating their core mantra: “Hate and violence to those who aren’t like us! And those that spread here, we will chase off!” Question them? Express the slightest hint of disagreement? Hate and violence!

More chilling, the demonstrators are no longer just a gathering of individuals. They’re beginning to march in formation, literally falling in step together.

They’re organizing.

Lucheni takes center stage again, but this time it’s just him. The demonstrators are still present, their voices responding to him from the darkness, but otherwise, he stands alone.

AND BRINGS ELISABETH BACK INTO IT

Again, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about why the show uses Lucheni here and now. Setting aside my massive ignorance YET AGAIN, I’m not finding anything that indicates Lucheni was particularly antisemitic (the “problem” with Heinrich Heine? I’LL GIVE YOU ONE GUESS.). Lucheni may well have been, but, you know, in a low-key chill sort of way. By which I mean, his deal seems to have been first and foremost about anarchy, not antisemitism or racism. So why have Lucheni be this voice? Why this protest?

And my thought is that we’re dipping for the moment into the “real” Lucheni, rather than the version who’s been taking us on this journey. Or, perhaps another way to look at it is that he represents the growing anti-imperial anarchist movement of the time. He/They may not have specifically been antisemitic, but they were more than happy to wield antisemitism as a tool for their own ends. Fan those flames, and give zero shits about who gets burned.

I think this may be the strongest indictment of Lucheni/anarchists in the musical. Throughout, I feel it mostly comes down on the side of ... if not sympathy, exactly, then of understanding. Elisabeth is complicated, and so, too, would be the feelings about her, particularly for the common people who, as a group, both adore her and suffer at her whims. But Lucheni taking voice here, whatever his motivation, is siding with and inciting those who embody hate and violence, who we know will perpetrate unthinkable atrocities in that name of that hate. The musical doesn’t turn away from the culpability that Lucheni, and those like him, have in not just allowing this but enabling it, ENCOURAGING it.

His piece said, Lucheni runs off-stage, back into the shadows as the demonstration reaches fever pitch.

They march toward the front of the stage, furious but orderly, chaos but contained. The chanting continues, but the marching changes. It becomes a goose-step. There are elaborate hand gestures, and still they all move as one. Finally, it concludes as it must.

The lights slam up, then drop, leaving only one figure on stage.

Rudolf, alone. Not walking past all this like his father, but staring at it directly, unable to look away.

This is what Rudolf sees in their future. Not just the fall of the Hapsburgs, but house after house throughout Europe, the suffering of people in the wake of those conflicts and power vacuums, setting the world stage for even more horrors to come. He KNOWS it’s coming, he can hear it, and the burden of what to do about it falls squarely on his shoulders.

“Hate” is so crucial, I feel, to understanding Rudolf’s thoughts and actions to come in the musical. Without knowing what he sees (things which we know to be true), his motivations against his father make no sense, his longing for some kind of understanding and comfort from his mother make him seem emotionally undeveloped, his desperation lacks weight, and his suicide is reduced to a plot point for Elisabeth rather than the final surrender of hope that we could avoid the inevitable.

And it’s so well done! Really, the way the whole sequence just builds and builds, before abruptly cutting off at this evocative moment, leaving Rudolf its only witness. Just fantastic, I loved it.

IT TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH TO GET MY THOUGHTS TOGETHER TO WRITE THIS POST. One that wasn’t even requested, but again, I hope no one minds too terribly much that I took us down this detour. For as much as I carried on about it, it’s just under two minutes, and if you have those two minutes to spare, I would encourage you to put them here.

[tb5-hellbound]

talented amateurs - deleted scene (Scott and Jane)

the interlude to close out all that emotionally charged and highly dramatic Island Nonsense was originally going to be a monster of a chapter, a six way rotation through the POVs all of the significant other characters (plus a couple new voices) who we haven’t heard much from. this proved to be FAR too monumental a task and while I’m happier with the simplicity chapter I wound up with, there are still a few thousand words worth of written but unpublished extra content that add context and depth (as well as a bunch of important points I didn’t get to address on account of opting out of The Monster Chapter, fml), so here’s one of them.

There's a certain kind of long distance intimacy to the fact that they always know where to find one another. It's the first thing she does when she lands anywhere new---tells him where she is and how long she'll be there, just on the off chance that it's somewhere he's got the time to be. He responds in kind, and especially makes a point to let her know when he'll be free for more than one or two days at a stretch, and when possible, they'll both make a point to get together.

Jane's job takes her to almost as many corners of the world as his does, and currently she finds herself in a hotel room near the airport in Singapore, getting the requisite amount of sleep before her next cargo flight, a contracted sequence that takes her all over the South Pacific.

But she isn't sleeping. She'd already called Scott earlier in the evening to let him know she was going to be in the neighbourhood, relatively speaking, and he'd promised to get back to her as soon as possible. Now she's in her pajamas, curled up beneath the blankets in her hotel room bed. Instead of sleeping, she lies awake beneath beneath the bedsheets, frowning at the messages that glow from the screen of her comm.

S: I need to see you.

J: ooh I kinda hoped you might <3

J: Room 301 @ Aerotel Singapore ;)

J: bring me a bottle of whiskey or I'm not letting you in

S: Not like that.

J: oh.

J: Is everything okay?

S: Can't talk about it. Unsecured comm. I'll be there in an hour. Talk then.

And then nothing else. There's not much to go on, and she knows better by now than to try and press Scott for information when there's something bothering him, and she knows something's bothering him by the way he's terse and sharp and short. Whatever it is, it must be serious enough to warrant such strict privacy.

An hour is a long time to lie alone in the dark wondering what exactly her boyfriend's problem is. Initially she scours the news for any mention of any sort of disaster requiring the involvement of International Rescue and Thunderbird 1 by extension---but there's nothing. Nothing that's been publicly reported, at least. It's not in Jane's nature to worry about things she can't change, and so she puts it resolutely out of her mind. She passes the time reading recipes that she never intends to make, and browsing idly through the latest offerings from the tabloid press, though the "news" is all fairly stale and none of it sparks her interest.

She's dozing a little bit by the time there's a knock on her door, hard and loud enough that she starts awake, briefly bewildered before she remembers she's expecting company. There's an insistence to the second knock on the door that makes it more of a pounding, and she mutters uncharitably under her breath as she climbs out of bed.

The hotel room is cool, and it's late enough that it's starting to be early. Outside, the first suggestion of dawn creeps into the sky, a reminder that she really does need to be fresh and well-rested for her next flight, and whatever's brought Scott to her doorway right now had better be urgent.

Even though she's expecting him, natural caution has her stop and tap a fingertip against a touchscreen embedded at eye-level in the door. Just to be safe. This activates a camera to reveal a view of the hallway, and grants her a glimpse of Scott in an unguarded moment. The weariness and the worry in his bearing stifle any inclination she might have to tell him off for pounding on her door. He's rested one of his forearms against the doorjamb, and leans against it, looking worn out in a way he usually doesn't. He's also in full uniform, which isn't exactly uncommon, considering the usual manner of their meetings. Every now and again their schedules will overlap in such a way that she can join him somewhere where they can both be in their civvies---but tonight her uniform hangs pressed and ready in the closet by the door, and he's still in brilliant IR blue when Jane opens the door.

She only just catches him straightening up and pushing a hand through his hair, and if he doesn't quite smile when he sees her, some of the tension around his eyes seems to soften slightly.

"Hey," she says, and offers a smile that's gentle where it might otherwise be wicked, if this were their usual flavour of rendezvous. "C'mon in."

"Hi," he answers, but something about the way he says it seems almost absent, perfunctory. He's visibly distracted as he steps into her hotel room, moves swiftly past her as she closes the door behind him, and when she turns, he's made a beeline straight for the minibar in the corner of the room. A glass hits the countertop, and there's a melodic chime as the mini fridge swings open, and then three tiny bottles of liquor cluster around his chosen glass.

"I was kidding about the bottle of whiskey," Jane volunteers, watching as Scott deftly twists a tiny lid off a tiny bottle, and pours himself a shot of straight tequila. For Jane's part, her current employer maintains a strict zero-tolerance policy for drugs and alcohol, and there's a twelve hour delay required betwixt bottle and throttle. "I'm due back in the air in nine hours, I won't be joining you."

"Wasn't planning to share." Shots of rum and vodka join the tequila, tinting the concoction into a light amber colour. Scott reopens the mini fridge, frowns into it briefly, before closing it again. Before Jane can comment any further, he's picked up his drink and thrown it back, in the manner of somebody who'd better not intend to fly anywhere in the next twelve hours. This accomplished, he abandons his empty glass on the countertop, and turns away from the bar to drop bodily onto the waiting couch at the far end of her suite, tipping his head back and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh.

Jane, having watched this dramatic little one-man tableau from the doorway, takes her cue to pad across the room in her bare feet, and seats herself gingerly on the sleek coffee table in front of him. She doesn't say anything, quietly expectant, and waits patiently for Scott to set the tone with whatever he decides to say first.

To his credit, he doesn't make her wait long. "...Sorry." He lifts a still gloved (gauntleted, really) hand to rub his fingertips against closed eyes, and then drags his palm down his face.

"Hit the bottle kinda hard there, champ," Jane observes, keeping her tone carefully light and non-judgmental, at least until she has a better explanation of what's going on. "You're lucky the room gets charged to my company card."

Scott chuckles but doesn't look at her, darkly sardonic in a way that he just isn't, usually. "Just following orders."

That's uncharacteristically cryptic, and something about the way he's said it makes her skin crawl slightly, hinting at something she's starting to suspect, but doesn't want to believe. Three little bottles still sit empty atop the minibar, winking in the low lights of the hotel room and persistent at the edge of her awareness. She'd been joking about the bottle of whiskey, but it's true that some of the best times they've had together have been over beers at a ballgame, or sipping Scotch at some nameless hotel bar. But this is clearly different. And not just because he's on his way to getting very drunk, while she remains resolutely sober. Something's wrong; this isn't like him. Something brought this about.

Jane reaches out to put a hand on Scott's knee, and her voice is gentle and sincere as she asks, "Are you okay? What happened?"

Scott takes a deep breath, and his gaze falls to her hand upon his knee, as though he can't bring himself to look at her when he answers, "...I fucked up." His fingers close over hers with a kind of desperate urgency, like her touch is a lifeline he can't lose hold of. "I mean I really fucked up, Jane, and I came here because I need to talk to somebody, but I don't know if I can even tell you. It's some shit about me and some shit about my family, and it's big and ugly and complicated and none of it's good and I just---I don't know what you'll think."

He falls silent, and Jane isn't sure what to say. Even after two years, vulnerability is rare in the man who saved her life, and truth be told, Jane likes it that way. Not that she'd fault him for it, just that she wouldn't entirely know how to respond. She knows, though they never really talk about it, that Scott's seen some shit. Jane doesn't know how to talk about that kind of thing, because that kind of thing is the kind of thing she renders in terms like "seen some shit". Sensitivity isn't her strong suit. Softer emotions don't come naturally to her.

But then, Scott knows that. They have it in common.

It's some instinct, then, that has her take his hand in both of hers. Idly, absently, she starts to undo the assorted straps and buckles that fasten his gloves. It's easier to talk if she pretends that this task is meticulous and demands more attention than it really does. All she really wants is to get down to bare skin, the intimacy of real contact, and hope it'll help make her point clear.

"I remember when I told you about my dad," she says, not looking up and unbuckling a clasp and loosening a strap, and starting to work the fingers of the gloves loose. This gets a little tricky as Scott's fingers twitch, reflexively trying to clench into a fist at the mere mention of her father. She squeezes his wrist gently and his hand relaxes, so she goes on, "Speaking of 'big' and 'ugly' and 'complicated'. I didn't know what you were going to think, either."

She tugs the glove free, tosses it onto the couch beside him, as he protests, "This is different."

Now her hand clasps his for a moment, before she gets up from the coffee table, and sits right back down, beside him this time. Insistent, she curls herself up on the couch, leans against his chest, tilts her head against his shoulder. "Maybe. But you let me tell you, and you listened, and it helped to get it out, and now you know something about me that almost no one else does. If it would help to get it out, Scott, just talk. Or do you need me to get you another drink?"

"I need you to stay just exactly where you are." His right hand is bare now, and much more deftly than she had, he pulls his other glove off. Reflexively, maybe, his arm wraps around her shoulder, and though she'd nestled close, he pulls her closer still. The bare skin of his palm is warm against her arm, and she can smell the alcohol on his breath when he rests his cheek against the crown of her head and sighs.

Jane tilts her face up and kisses his cheek. For being as brave and intrepid and daring as he is, it can sometimes be hard to get the ball rolling with Scott. More often than not, Jane finds herself initiating things between them. She gives him another little nudge, literally and metaphorically. "Look---I recognize the irony of telling you this while we're in another damn hotel room, but babe, when we decided that this whole thing was going to be more than just hook-ups in hotel rooms, part of that was an agreement to talk to each other about our lives, once in a while."

He shifts beside her, but she refuses to do anything but cuddle stubbornly closer, even if she can hear the discomfort in his tone when he protests, "It's my brothers, though."

She can't help a snort of laughter at this. "You tell me everything about your brothers. The number of times you've come bitching to me at the end of a long day about Alan's whining or John's micromanaging---some days I think I know your brothers better than you do."

The statement is carefully crafted, deliberately phrased so as to needle at Scott's not-so-subtle competitive edge, his perpetual need to prove himself. Still, even thus prompted, it takes him a few long moments to volley back, and there's genuine anguish in his voice when he asks---

"Do you know what to do when one of them gets his girlfriend pregnant?"

[circuitlover]

Neon Genesis Evangelion: The End of Analysis

Is this a ridiculously naval-gazing post about Evangelion? Yes. Is it an accurate assessment of the franchise as a whole? I have no idea. I tackled this as an unknown initially, starting the series with zero contexts beyond the usual recommendation of “you should watch this.” Which is part of the reason why I’ve been a little hesitant about even broaching this subject to begin with. I’m so removed from the zeitgeist, both in terms of not being a regular anime viewer, as well as it being long past Evangelion’s relevance as a franchise, that it seems everybody already has their opinion on Evangelion all figured out. So at least indulge me, as I scramble around for something.

‘The End of Evangelion’ is a certainly a gratifying conclusion, as we finally get to see much of what was being concealed behind the veil (well, as much as one could reasonably hope for). It also reminds us of some long-standing questions. Why do the Evangelion possess such a bizarre tendency to be ill suited for battle? How do NERV’s continue to run unabated from governing bodies? What exactly is the mystery surrounding the origin of the ‘Geofront’? These were all broad strokes of why I felt unsatisfied by the original conclusion (the hastily arranged make good of the final few episodes of the series), and though I don’t expect every minor detail to be answered about such a multi-faceted world, I still feel these were questions pertinent enough to have been resolved in some fashion. Now I’m a little more aware of the troubled events leading up to that ending and it’s quite admirable that they managed to deliver something, despite the haphazard nature of those final two episodes.

 It’s clear that End of Evangelion intends to underline the original series from the start, dropping us back at the critical juncture where episode 24 had left us. Even if one could feasibly state that we reach the same point after the events of EOE, I’d argue that we inhabit a vastly different headspace by the time we reach it here. It’s not difficult to surmise what happens between the gaps left between the final two episodes, though everything is lent much more credence here, now that we are left to witness the macabre reality of what the entire series has been building towards. NERV headquarters is finally attacked by SEELE, and with this, we finally see the bloody climax. Now free to depict the attack in full detail, the opening half is certainly full of action and excess, though far from mindless, with only the most unflinching of viewers (or those divorced from its context) likely to derive any sort of baseless enjoyment from these scenes. The various lingering shots of deaths sit uncomfortably here, but nonetheless punctuate the finality of it all. If anyone could have accused the series of taking a wholly unexpected (and saccharine) turn towards it’s finale, then EOE is it’s biting rebuttal.  As cold as the NERV headquarters is, with almost everything bad that has occurred almost exclusively originating from within it’s walls, it’s still disconcerting to see such a familiar setting being callously destroyed in a matter of minutes, along with it’s inhabitants. The conflict has essentially existed as a faceless one; both the audience and Evangelion’s protagonists seldom knew what they’re truly been up against. It’s a war being played out by the pawns, and here we see the severity first-hand.

 As their headquarters are crumbling, so are the pilots. Shinji is in no fit state, evidenced by his own bemusement over his actions towards a comatose Asuka. It may be shocking, and his actions are far from admirable, but given the context, it’s hardly surprising. After all, his confidence had been built up; only to be meticulously broken the instant Kaworu reared his head. This compounded with his earlier apprehensions after Toji’s departure, his various disingenuous, failed, and otherwise doomed relationships leaves his mental state in tatters. I personally don’t like Shinji, but then again, it’s quite clear to see that you’re not really supposed to. Even without Hideki Anno’s spiteful intent of wanting to deconstruct the typical shonen hero propelling Shinji’s arc, it’s quite safe to assume that anyone who had any lingering empathy for Shinji will almost certainly have abandoned such notions at this point. The Shinji we were first introduced to, awkward, unlikeable, with an overriding sense of hate and self-loathing, has now given way to complete apathy. “I’m so fucked up” seems to ring more an acknowledgement, than it does a realization.

 Like Shinji, Asuka too has succumbed to her trauma, but on a much more literal scale, being broken in both mind and body. They are two characters that are seemingly analogous to one another. But again, first appearances can be deceiving, as by the point of Asuka’s introduction, we are already keenly aware of Shinji’s nature. He openly laments his position; Meanwhile, Asuka is brash and outspoken, embracing her identity as a designated hero, rather than cowering behind it. How they choose to define themselves is different, but the underlying reasons are gradually revealed to quite similar. Both driven by an inherent self-loathing, we witness the pair at varying levels of despondency, though rarely at the same time. In fact, for as consistent as emotional turmoil is through NGE, it is rarely overt, leaving most characters to wallow in their own abject misery. Almost everything operates on a certain level on duplicity, some of which, admittedly, isn’t apparent upon first viewing.

 Rei is ostensibly disconnected from the very beginning, though that makes the act of attempting to interpret the character, quite difficult. Very little is revealed about her, and most of the development is concerned with what she is, rather than what she does. Her role is pivotal to the overall narrative, and the themes being explored, as she is, by design, a doll that emotes. Which I guess is where her appeal lies. The mystery intrinsic to the character is never completely done away with, even at the very end. And the case could be made if the third incarnation of ‘Rei’ is even the same character that we’d become accustomed to, as her eventual rejection of instrumentality is a stark contrast to the cold pragmatist that bookended the TV series.

 The (quite literal) congratulatory nature of the series conclusion was always conspicuous in its inclusion. Evangelion had never been a work that had an interest in servicing its audience, at least in terms of a ‘happy’ ending. Which isn’t to say that wasn’t a possibility, but the tonal dissonance in which it was delivered never quite rang true. As an audience, we were conditioned to cautiously enjoy any brief respites afforded to our characters, as more often than not, it was simply a prelude to the turmoil that was soon to be heaped upon them. All of which (keeping with tradition), means the course correcting of EOE ups the stakes by an order of magnitude. The imminent attack is at the worst possible time, with each pilot being indisposed. The first big sequence, the assault on NERV, is a veritable massacre. Everyone’s fates are conclusively played out, whilst the Evangelion units become the focal point. 01 is promptly captured, whilst 02 (along with Asuka) is sunk to the bottom of the lake. This leaves Misato to attempt to galvanize an unstable Shinji. It’s kind of galling to see Shinji act so despondently in the face of her imminent death, though his selfishness probably obscures that fact until it’s too late. For me, Katsuragi is probably the most well meaning of the entire cast, but tragically, is someone woefully inept of providing the emotional support that others around her need. Her own weaknesses are clear to see, and although many of her problems are often emphasized for comic affect, she is still one of the few who straddles the line between her duties and profession life, perhaps the most convincingly. Like most other characters, she serves as juxtaposition to Shinji’s own conflict, and highlights how everyone is dealing with their own issues, just with varying levels of inadequacy. Her final actions echo her previous (failed) attempt at comforting Shinji, with her own loneliness giving way to fleeting intimacy.

Everything hits a crescendo once the Evangelion finally make their appearance, quite literally. Asuka awakens, and with it, her centrepiece battle takes place. I’m sure that it isn’t really something that I need to go into exacting detail about, because the following scene is enduring all by itself. Though it is notable as a culmination of the various elements all coming together; music, animation, along with the story. This is where EOE leverage’s its theatrical status for all its worth, eschewing the patchwork TV production in favour of something grander.  The actions scenes are often impressive and horrifying in equal measure, and there is probably no greater proof than here. Asuka’s death is certainly disturbing, and much of that is down to how they chose to portray that violence. For me, it recalled earlier moments, where the eldritch abomination like nature of the Evangelion had been evoked. These moments give the audience a brief pause for thought, where much is suggested of how horrifying their (The Evangelion) unshackled nature truly is. The unease, which these moments produce, suggests that something is terribly untoward. Most of which is conveyed in how we (the audience) see others react, gleaning what we can from cutaway shots of onlookers recoiling in horror. If recollections of Unit O1’s previous ‘feast’ already served to perturb, then this surely toys with our imagination yet further. We only see Unit 02 itself being devoured, and now knowing what we do about the distinctly human aspect of the Evangelion, the horror of Asuka’s fate here, trapped inside, now inhabits an altogether more unsettling space. The series ending, try as I might to appreciate it, was never going to suffice. It was nice to see Shinji’s own paradigm being settled, but I felt like it would have been more effective with a little more of that ambiguity stripped away. For as much as Neon Genesis Evangelion likes to steep itself in duplicity, this is where it’s felt like it was something of a compromise. The inner turmoil was my key takeaway from the work as a whole; it forms the crux of every relationship, and dictates the course of every action. It’s a lonely show, something that if not apparent from the get-go, slowly permeates throughout the narrative. Shinji is an initially an awkward character to relate to, bumbling his way through his scenes, though much of this weak nature is revealed to be a product of his environment. The world in which this all takes place is irreparably damaged, and even if the true extent of the second impact isn’t made expressly clear, it becomes quite apparent that humanity lives on in its own self-inflicted dystopia. It is this inherent contradiction that defines nearly every relationship, as each is unwilling (or unable) to acknowledge their true feelings. It is ultimately a self-destructive existence for the likes of Shinji, who permeates multiple meanings to his interactions with people, the paradoxical nature of which is explored in the conflict that defines the multiple endings and interpretations. Shinji is our proxy, but even so, it can be difficult to empathize with him. A hero he may be, but it’s more by designation than by design. It’s a role, which he consistently questions, as he exhibits almost none of the values we typically associate with someone tasked with such a mammoth task. He ostensibly comes of age throughout the series, gradually gaining some semblance of self-worth, though it a precarious act as he constantly seeks assurance from his father, and later anyone (which becomes something that Asuka resents him for). No character is treated like a proverbial puppet more than Shinji. In fact, it is SEELE themselves, who objective turns out to ultimately “break” Shinji, rendering his ego to naught. For all intents and purposes, it could be argued that the whole world is literally against him, at least by his own perceptions. His relationship is Asuka is extremely strained, initially showing hints of affection, with their hilariously depressing kiss encapsulates this dichotomy; Neither the circumstances (nor the characters) allowing for anything to take place. Even the slight reprieve offered in the finale (Asuka’s acknowledgement amidst the fallout) is obfuscated by the context in which it’s delivered.

Shinji’s journey dictates the ending, first, in the original series, where his perspective colours the ambiguity from which we see the fallout. Thematically this works (and I can see why some may prefer the agency it gives the audience), though I feel that the abstract nature of this ending, robs it of some emotional resonance. This conclusion is also hampered (at least for me) in how abrupt it is, with certain story threads left dangling. In my opinion, ‘End of Evangelion’ lives up to it’s billing as it gives a much more balanced and subjective conclusion, where we see first-hand “The Human Instrumentality Project” in effect. I was suitably invested to the point where I wished to see how the end was reached, and of course, see something that wasn’t cobbled together with recycled animation or slight of hand. I can certainly appreciate the original ending as a companion piece, which serves as a more personal and intimate resolution. But the fact remains, a lot of the fascination surely lays with how incomplete this all feels, with each finale, seemingly answering as many questions as they create. That said, I find that both endings offer up a surprisingly optimistic message. The original may be more overtly upbeat, but I think that EOE’s is lent more credence by virtue of the horror that precedes it. The life affirming message is delivered in the most tragic of circumstances, and I perhaps find that most heartening of all. By no means does ‘End of Evangelion’ end on a positive note, but I think it’s enough that it carries the promise of one. The somber sentiment may be more prevalent for some, though my rebuttal would point to the fact that, for as depraved and unethical the means may be, everyone ultimately wants to be happy. There is something to be said about the apparent theology that makes up a large part of Evangelion, and even if it has no real implication beyond the aesthetic (those initial warnings from long-time fans that, yes, a lot of the pseudo Christian imagery is window dressing at best. ), I still feel that its prominence casts a large shadow over proceedings. If nothing else, it certainly lends a morbid atmosphere to the show. When one starts to take this aspect into closer consideration, it’s easy to see why theory regarding Evangelion has become so prevalent. One of the constants throughout is the titular Evangelion. Though they remain a focal part, their function, both narratively and thematically, are constantly shifting. Initially agents of change, they are presented as a mysterious, if helpful force. Gradually this is peeled back, as various allusions are made to what they actually are. Throughout, we see how their pilots are affected by their experiences in their cockpits. Shinji is continually drawn and repulsed by the idea of piloting his Evangelion, seeing it as a means to forge something meaningful, whilst at the time, also aware of how dependant he becomes of his new role. Rei is driven by a sense of twisted duty, one that routinely sees her sacrificing herself (needlessly) for the cause. And Asuka perceives her role as raison d'être to obfuscate her own past, this being both a strength and a weakness. For better or worse, the Evangelion define them, and as the story progresses, we see that this takes on altogether more sinister connotations.  When viewed as an allegory, I think Evangelion holds multiple meanings, depending on what part is being referred to, or indeed who is viewing it. My initial impressions were pretty much taking it at face value, though I think the misdirection of the opening is a deliberate ploy for the most part. I’ve read that some take it as a deconstruction of the very genre it inhabits, though not having much experience with that myself, I choose to focus solely on the emotional aspects. Indeed, the psychological (and philosophical) strands become much more prominent as the series progresses, as it steadily veers into becoming a wholly oblique affair. Humanity may live on, but in spite of itself; something which is made abundantly clear, throughout.

Though its message initially seems quite muddled, I still feel it one that still manages to remain pertinent. I certainly can’t fault it for ambition. And there is something to be said about a piece of work that I simultaneously feel, is one of the most bleak and uplifting things I have witnessed, flawed or otherwise. I appreciate the themes that it chooses to explore. I like the characters, even in spite of everyone being contemptible in some glaring way. And in that respect, this series is nothing, if not a parade of characters struggling to deal with their emotions. But maybe that’s why I like it amidst all the abstract craziness; it retains a very human message.