#but those aren’t as funny within the confines of my joke

[rowlfthedog]

Just purchased The Book and I am, ironically, overjoyed about it

[rxqueenotd]

The Girl Next Door part V

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, age gap, affairs, unhealthy relationships, dubious morality, my improper use of commas, pure angst, mention of politics.

A/N: For the four people that read this, thank you so much. I almost scrapped this fic earlier this week (the full moon really had me in a full blown tizzy) but this chapter poured out of me at six AM this morning. (Y’all want me to make a tag list? Would that make life easier?)

WC: 1811

“You’re twenty-two?” He hung over my shoulder, watching with darting eyes as I filled out each line of the necessary paperwork for employment through the university.

“I feel like that should’ve been a prerequisite question, don’t you?” I looked back at him and shrugged with an alarmed look on my face.

“Is it my turn to ask if you’re legal?” I joked, watching as he crossed the kitchen and made his way over to the refrigerator.

“To be fair, I estimated you were around that age.” He grabbed the carton of orange juice and turned around towards the drying rack, plucking two wine glasses out, filling them with orange juice.

“Estimations aren’t exact.” I grabbed the glad he slid in my direction and lowered my eyes, “Not very careful of you.”

“They ID’d you at the restaurant, genius,” he shot back at me, “I’m observant.”

I slid the finished paper over to him. He picked it up, skimming the details as he sipped his orange juice.

“Luciano?” He glanced down at the paper and back at me, “That’s your last name?”

I shrugged, “What about it?”

“You’re one bad joke away from joining the mafia.”

“You’re one more insult away from waking up with a severed horse head in your bed.” I countered as I poured the remaining orange juice into the sink and rinsed out the glass.

He narrowed his eyes at me, following my eyeline as I idled about the kitchen, pretending I was focused on anything but him.

“Godfather one or two?” He asked.

“You hardly know me well enough to ask those types of questions.” It was easy to feign innocence when I wasn’t directly looking at him.

“HA!” He bellowed, “That’s rich considering the events of last night,” He laughed again, “You’re funny.”

“Now you’re turning pink.” He cocked his head to the side and lowered his eyes, “Don’t get all shy on me now, Livvy.”

“I’m not shy,” even with my proclamation, I still couldn’t look him in the eye, “I’m still processing it.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” he mocked with an eye roll,“Should we call a priest? Your therapist?”

“We could call your wife.”

That garnered the reaction I so desperately craved. A little hint of something boiling under the surface threatened to spill over and I waited with baited breath for him to tear into me. In a sick way, I anticipated it. Any crack in the surface to reveal his true nature, or anything of the sort. Something real, something I could latch onto. My own personal souvenir to remind myself that, like me, he was actually human. For a while, he had been a caricature to me. A walking trope actualized in the way he bantered with me, stared at me through his long eyelashes, existed within the confines of my home, my job, my dock. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a reckless driver, previously taught at a high school in Roslyn, liked two lemons in his ice water, and that he had an entire wife and a life so far removed from mine that he may as well have lived on Mars.

I itched for him to ask me my LSAT score, my favorite color, what fucked up series of events had led me to seek sexual gratification from my married neighbor with whom I shared a twenty year age difference.

It was at this very moment, I realized I was never built to be regarded as casual. In other words, being someone’s dirty secret only took care of the gap between my legs, my heart and ego bearing the brunt of his casual coolness.

I grabbed the form from his grip and held it closely to my chest.

“If there’s going to be an issue with us working so closely, I don’t want this job. I’m still technically employed at The Marina.”

He was quick to grab it back from me. A look of disapproval flashed across his face.

“We’re good, Olive.” He moved closer to me, patting me reassuringly on the shoulder.

I nodded, listening as his footfalls echoed from the entryway as he made his way to the front door.

I wish I had the restraint to walk away from him as easily as he walked away from me.

_________________________________________

A day later, we made the trip to the university together. A bad choice on my part, I know, but I genuinely enjoyed his company.

He didn’t seem to mind my company, nor did he seem to mind my stealing the occasional glance at him. A look of approval colored his features as he looked over at me while waiting at a stoplight.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m just looking at you, Olive.”

“Well, don’t.”

That earned me a chuckle as the light turned green.

Getting approval from the university was child’s play. My fingerprints were clean, my background untarnished, my last name garnering enough attention from the hiring office that the job was offered to me on the spot. Turns out I didn’t need his help after all. Though I’d never admit it aloud, I appreciated his offer, flattering myself despite the obvious manipulative undertones both of us were well aware of when the job was offered, considered, and taken.

“You could have told me your grandfather is the district attorney for Manhattan, for Christ’s sake.” He spoke lowly as we walked back to his car.

He opened the door for me and I slid into the passenger's seat, watching as he skulked to the driver’s side and climbed in.

“Is there anything else I should know?” He asked, eyebrows piqued.

“Part two,” I said, and he looked at me confusedly, “The Godfather.”

“Right.” he chuckled, “Are we friends now, Livvy?”

“No, actually,” I rolled the window down, tipping my hand in the wind.

“We’re colleagues.”

_________________________________________

The second mistake I made that day was going over to his house to discuss lesson plans as well as his teaching preferences.

“No fancy transitions, no bubbly text, no stupid pictures,” he told me as he clicked through an example of one of his PowerPoint presentations.

“These are college students, not kindergarteners.”

‘Poli Sci 408- The American Presidency,’ his syllabus read, with a brief introductory statement framing the coursework: This subject describes the types, functions and roles of the Chief Executive, personal administration, administrative corruption, financial administration and administrative improvement.

“No fun in Professor Mencken’s class,” I mockingly saluted him, “I got it.”

Only later would I realize how ironic it had been to stand in the future president’s kitchen discussing the details of his class, which included administrative corruption, given the nature of our relationship.

When he left me alone at his laptop to click through his lesson plans, I did anything but that. I glanced around the kitchen and adjoining living room, my curious feet carrying me to the entryway. No colors, no personal style, no signs of life in the living space. The style screamed avoidant. Like he could pick up his stuff in one go and run out the door at any given moment.

What caught my eye the most, though, was the photo on the fireplace’s mantle. A wedding photo of him and his wife framed in plated gold with the words ‘From This Moment On’ etched into the bottom of the frame in flowing cursive.

I picked it up, my fingertips gliding gently across the glass as I inspected the photo. The refined ball gown she wore with its basque bodice dripping onto the tulle skirt met with a shirred waistline, all made of matte satin throughout. The delicate V back coming to a halt with a simple bow, the chapel length train trailing behind her as they gazed adoringly at one another. He could have been standing there completely naked in the photo and I still would have only noticed how her delicate collarbones peaked through from under the high scoop neckline. Her face, her timeless American beauty. Brunette hair down to her chin, curled under at the ends, framed neatly with a headpiece at the crown of her head. Her veil flowing gently in, what I imagined to be, the summer breeze.

Suddenly I was a little girl again, gazing through the storefront window on Madison Avenue as an elated bride-to-be twirled around in front of the floor length mirror, surrounded by her friends.

Mrs. Mencken was now as real to me as that woman had been. My guilt now had a face.

I slid the frame back onto the mantle and turned around, smacking right into Jeryd’s chest.

“Do you still want to call her?”

I shook my head vehemently, swallowing audibly as I looked up at him.

His face remained calm as he blinked down at me expectantly, his eyebrow sloping at the arch.

He fucked me hard against the wall after that. My legs wrapped around his waist like a noose when he hoisted me up and took me right there in his living room. A reward, I guessed, for not spilling my guts on his carpet or to his wife. In all reality, I had wanted him to fuck me. To break the code of professionalism that we had agreed on previously. I had dressed for the occasion, silently pretending a skirt with no panties was an innocent choice when he pulled it up to rest on my hips. The entire time, my head rested in the crook of his neck, my eyes burning holes through the photo that rested innocently in its rightful place on their mantle. I held onto him for dear life as he fucked into me, slowly coming to a halt as he pulled back to look into my eyes.

“Don’t do that.” He said, lowly chastising my wandering mind. “Don’t make it personal.”

I wanted to ask him what the fuck life is if it’s not personal but I stayed silent.

He brought his left hand to rest on my cheek as he balanced our weight against the wall. The coldness of his wedding band felt like something akin to holy water on the flesh of the possessed.

“Take it off,” I pleaded with him. He was confused by my outburst, his eyes narrowing down at me.

When I slid his finger into my mouth, the cold metal gripped between my teeth, he got the message. It pooled under my tongue briefly before I spit it onto the floor. The ring landed with a soft thud right in front of the rug on the fireplace.

He didn’t look away from me when he resumed his pace. Each time I tried to avert my gaze, he quite literally jerked my chin back to look directly at him.

I wanted to ask him if that was his idea of not making it personal.

But I didn’t.

[livingthedragonlife]

i think we should start comparing Problematic Content in media and whether or not it’s Bad to enjoy with dead baby jokes. if you dont know what those are, here’s the first one i could think of off the top of my head: how many babies does it take to paint a room? depends how hard you throw them.

nobody who tells/laughs at that joke actually thinks it’s amusing to kill babies by throwing them at a wall. they’re laughing at 1) the inverse of expectations (like almost all jokes) and 2) the absurd gruesomeness of the premise. you don’t have to like it or think it’s funny, but it hasn’t convinced anyone to hurl babies at walls to paint a room. some people just really like telling dead baby jokes.

same thing with Problematic Content. people aren’t consuming or creating it because they think it’s just so damn objectively good and cool. it’s because they think the gruesomeness of the premise is interesting to explore or they enjoy grappling with horrific situations or think it’d be neat to safely explore something so fucked up within the confines of fiction.

some people like telling dead baby jokes. you don’t have to laugh.

[oilivia]

"worth the wait" - w/ Gojo

a/n: this ended up much longer than i intended to, but after watching the new JJK op Gojo was the only thing on my mind. no beta and smut after the cut. hope you’ll enjoy it and reblogs are appreciated!

pairing: Gojo x fem reader

tw: teasing, corruption themes, size difference, masturbation, nipple play, knee grinding, multiple orgasms, mindbreak, cum play  

word count: 1.9k

You hate that you can’t hate him. You wish you didn’t find his stupid jokes so funny, or the matter-of-factly way in which he says “I’m the best” so attractive. It would all be much easier for you if you could snicker and roll your eyes at his confidence when he’d say “I know you think about me at night.”

Instead, thinking about him at night is exactly what you do. Hand between your thighs, fingers buried in your hole as you get off to the thought of him on top of you, pumping in and out of your tight cunt. You wonder how he’d react if one day you’d reply to his comment with an ‘Yes’. Would he laugh? Would he tease you? Or maybe you’d finally get to taste his lips, to wrap your fingers around his cock.

“What are you thinking about?” you flinch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. “Is it me?” he whispers in a teasing tone, a shiver running down your spine when his hot breath hits your ear. How much of an asshole can he be sneaking up on you like this? Well, fuck it, you think. What’s the worst that could happen?

“And what if I was, Gojo?” There is a short pause and you internally facepalm, maybe confessing it wasn’t such a good idea. But then he laughs and your eyes dart to him.

“So you’re finally admitting it. Took you long enough.” You don’t even get to say a word before his mouth is on yours. With a hand on the back of your head and one on your waist, he’s pushing you until your back is pressed against the nearest wall. He pries your legs open with a knee, pressing it against your crotch and when you whine, he pulls his tongue from your eager mouth with a smirk. “I thought you’d fight back a bit more. But I guess you find me irresistible, huh?” 

You feel your skin burning at his words and the way he’s rubbing his knee on your pussy with only a couple of thin layers of clothing separating you isn’t helping. “You’re such a jerk,” you retort, but he just chuckles.

“And you’d like it if this jerk railed you right here?” He gathers both your hands and pins them above your head. Your heart is beating faster, the way he’s towering over you driving you crazy, his luscious lips within inches of yours. You want to give in so badly. 

It’s now or never. “Not here,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself as much as him. You’re right in the middle of a hallway at Jujutsu Tech, not the best place to fuck. Not if you don’t plan on finding another job at least. It’s getting harder to hold in your moans the more he’s teasing your covered clit and at this point the spot on his pants that’s pressed on you must be wet as well. 

“Hmm, I’ll indulge you since it’s our first time,” he chuckles and picks you up. A few moments later, he gently throws you on a bed “I brought you to my apartment if you’re so shy, though I’d rather have taken you right against that wall.” You know some things about Gojo’s cursed techniques, but still, it never fails to amaze you just how strong it is. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. That, and the few times you had those otherworldly eyes staring down at you.

You don’t have much time to analyze your motivations, not with the man himself climbing on top of you, jacket thrown next to the bed and shirt half unbuttoned. He is going to make you work for it if you want to see him naked. He enjoys seeing the battle within you between your desire for him and your desire to remain unbothered. It amuses him. It’s always fun, making the cool and collected ones lose themselves with lust. Have them crawl to him on their knees. And he knows just how to do it.

“You look so pretty splayed like that on my bed,” he mutters as he runs his hand up your naked leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps from your calf to your inner thigh. “I think we should take these off, they’re drenched,” he coos, tugging down your panties. You whimper when you feel the cold air hit your drooling slit. His lips are closing in to your ear again “And I’m keeping them - a memento of how much you want me.” He loves watching your expressions when he pushes your buttons. It’s easy with you, you respond so cutely to his teasing, so sensitive, so needy. He can’t wait to see how you’ll squirm when he’s fucking you, how your eyes will roll at the back of your head. 

“Pervert,” you hiss, but he only chuckles at that. Gojo licks the shell of your ear, hand kneading your breasts. A whine escapes you and you feel the corners of his mouth tug into a grin as he’s planting kisses on your jawline - he’s breaking your defenses, slowly but surely. Why would you be resisting him anyways? 

“So you’re into perverts, hmm?” He slips a finger between your wet folds slowly and you moan oh, so prettily for him. “Moaning like this from just a finger, such a cutie. What are you going to do when I put my cock inside you? Good thing the walls aren’t thin.” He pushes in and out of you while he’s lifting your top, planting kisses on your stomach and moving up to your breasts. He frees them from the confine of your bra and latches his mouth on one of your nipples, sucking as he adds a second finger in your cunt. You whine and he relishes the way your walls are sucking in his digits. You’re gonna feel so good wrapped around his cock.

Tingles run through your body. When you do it yourself it doesn't feel nearly as good. But you want more - need more. So when you see him release your nipple with a pop and pull his fingers from your sopping cunt only to stare at you with an impish smile, you can’t help but whine “Gojo, please!”

“Call me Satoru,” he grins “You’re always so formal, even naked on my bed. And please what?”

“Please stop being such a tease and just fuck me already!” Your cheeks are burning up, you can’t believe he’s making you act like such a needy slut. 

“All you had to do was ask,” he chuckles, untying his blindfold “I want you to look at me while I make you cream on my cock.”

Gojo’s eyes are just as mesmerizing as you remember and staring into them feels like taking a plunge off a cliff, just to fall into the sky. You bite your lip, you could be so cheesy sometimes. But you can’t stop looking, barely registering the way he takes your hands and places them on his shirt, unbuttoning it with your own fingers and then moving to undo the clasp of his belt. 

“Just like this,” he coos, pushing you on your back once he’s done making you undress him. Your eyes widen when you see his cock, fully hard and drops of precum leaking from the tip. “You like it?”

“I-I’m not sure it’s going to fit-” 

“We’ll make it fit,” Gojo coaxes, placing your legs on his shoulders and pressing the tip against your entrance. You whine, the way he’s spreading your muscle rim both painful and delicious. Inch by inch he’s stretching your tight walls, your back arching. He’s rubbing against each and every one of your sensitive spots and you’re so close to cumming just by having him enter you. “Oh, look at you, you’re so fucking wet and still so fucking tight.”

He grunts, sheeting himself inside you fully with one deep thrust. He gives you a moment to rest, enjoying the way your walls clench around his length. Gojo had his eyes on you for a while. He saw the way you always hesitated for a second every time he teased you, how you’d fight laughing at his jokes. And how you swayed your hips so alluringly each time you walked away as if spending one more second in his presence would make all your defenses crumble. But he knew it was just a matter of time before you’d fall right into his arms. You were just too cute, too innocent - he had to have you. 

“S-Satoru,” you moan his name when he starts moving again. Each thrust is hard and deep and each of them makes the coil in your abdomen tighten. His hands are on your ass, spreading your cheeks. You cry his name over and over. And he just pounds into you, slamming his hips into yours. He isn’t going to be gentle just because you never had a cock as big. He can’t, he’s not that merciful. You’re just too pretty, how you whine and squirm, how your much smaller body shakes when he touches you, when he fucks into you. Your eyes are glazed over, but you don’t close them, no, you’re looking straight at him. Drool is dripping from the corner of your mouth, and slick is running down your thighs. 

“You’re such a mess. Such a pretty fucking mess,” he smirks and thrusts harder. Your hands grip the sheets. So desperate, so needy. You need to hold onto something to keep you from bursting. But when he leans on you and his lips wrap around your nipples once more - you can’t hold it anymore. The coil snaps as your mind goes blank, your body frantically trying to pull him deeper inside you, squeezing, milking him.

He’s panting as he keeps fucking you through your high. He’s chasing his own release, trying to decide which part of your body he should mark with his cum. Your bouncy tits? Your pretty face? Or maybe he should just finish inside you and watch as it drips from your well-fucked hole. He’s close, so close. And you’re still cumming - is it the second or the third time? It doesn’t matter.

Pulling out of your velvety walls, he strokes his cock while rubbing your clit. He wants to see you squirming for a little while more. His body jerks and with a grunt he sprays his cum all over your stomach and breasts, a few drops landing on your face as you’re cumming again from the pressure on your clit. 

He’d ask you if you’d be able to fuck another man after this, but there was no point. You are so out of it, your walls clenching around nothing and body still shaking - you couldn’t answer him anyway. Gojo will just have to wait until you’re coherent again. He knows you won’t be able to stay away from him anymore, you’ll just be crawling on your hands and knees back to him, begging for his cock. And he’s going to give it to you, he’s going to fuck you in every corner of the school. It seems the wait was worth it.

© 2021 all content belongs to @cherrysdollhouse​, please do not modify or repost without permission

[impatient14]

Not to be “annoying on main” but like most things here in the year 2020, a lot of the nuance and reason surrounding the fandom’s fight over Dean’s queerness is lost to the wily temptress that is extremity, and I want to throw some stuff out there in case anyone is thinking the same things and just needs to hear that someone else is too.

To my followers and anyone who dares look through my blog (honestly don’t recommend it), it’s obvious I’m someone who enjoys the Dean/Cas pairing. And when I say enjoy, I mean I absolutely get feral about a wide range of topics that involve their relationship, depiction, and reception. I’ve always kept my opinions within the confines of my blog, though, and I’ve never--not once in the decade of my life on Tumblr--gone into inboxes to send hate or even indirect someone with hate or drama on my blog. That shit just ain’t kosher.

That being said, some of the anti-destiel arguments out there have merit.

Like, for example, Destiel shippers not liking the show. Personally, I did like Supernatural originally, but I also recently recommended new watchers who came for Destiel to just watch certain episodes. I’ve stopped watching Supernatural several times throughout my Supernatural journey (which started in real time with season one), because the writing can be down right awful. There were lots of great examples of writing too, but it wasn’t consistent enough for me to keep watching in real time. So I'd watch a season behind on Netflix. At some point, things got bad enough (the bro-dependence, recycled or unimaginative plotlines, the terrible treatment and fridging of female characters) that I did keep coming back for Dean and Cas only (and honestly, it was sometimes only Castiel). 

Another worthy anti-destiel point for consideration is the fact that other than destiel shippers, a lot of people who watch Supernatural don’t care about Castiel. This seems to be correct. I’d wager to say that the vast majority of Supernatural watchers did not invest even a portion of time, energy, or emotions in Castiel that we did. That’s cool. I’ve been a casual viewer of a show and been blindsided by things that their fanon saw coming a mile away. Everyone has different perspectives, and the idea that Castiel isn’t integral to the plot when you remove the possibility of Destiel is absolutely correct.

However.

Why did they keep bringing him back? It’s true that he could easily be written out when his relationship with Dean is bro-ified, but his deaths never took until the end (and even then it didn’t). Sure, it could be “pandering,” but if only 1% of the Supernatural fandom ships destiel (as stated in one argument), it seems like a strange choice monetarily. Misha, as a series regular, wasn’t exactly giving out his services for free (eyyoo), so producers and the network wouldn’t give a second thought to the vitroil and threats creators and actors would get if Misha were written off. (Side note: I categorically *hate* the social media accessibility that lets people directly interact so negatively with creators to the point of dangerous conditions. It’s the most ugly and embarrassing side of fandom.)

It could be argued they kept bringing him back because they knew hellers and Cas lovers would continue to buy his Merch and what not, but I can’t imagine the small percentage of viewers who are invested enough in Castiel to buy his Merch would compensate for Misha’s annual salary. (But honestly, numbers aren’t my thing so *shrug*) But it could also be argued that the perceived destiel headache for creators, plus the retention of Misha’s salary, would be enough to get rid of him if not for a crucial role he plays in the show. Creators have repeatedly said that Cas’ whole character revolves around his relationship with Dean, so that means the writers felt that the Cas/Dean relationship was important to the fabric of the show--in whatever way you’d like to see it. Does that mean viewers have to see it that way? Definitely not. But that’s not the story the writers are telling you they’re writing--

Oh, that sounds familiar!

All the textual gay jokes, narrative devices, and creator interactions (not just Misha, but writers, producers, and other actors too) created the metaphorical pink elephant, not the shippers themselves. And to be told otherwise is some gaslighting bullshit. I agree some fans take it too far and freak out at the mere mention of a non-destiel reading, but the foundation for a destiel reading is based in text, not just in the shippers heads. The relationship between the Supernatural creators, actors, and fandom is undoubtedly toxic, which is why I think it makes it easier for them to deny various romantic interpretations of Dean and Castiel's relationship, but (and i hate to do it) in their defense, they definitely wrote enough into the text to justifiably claim Dean's a nohomodudebro. However, they've also written enough into the text to legitimately doubt (not definitively deny) his heterosexuality.

IMO (for the maybe two people wondering) Dean became bisexually coded in a very complicated conglomeration of a homophobic “its funny to be gay” kind of way, the chemistry between Jensen and Misha, countless production decisions, and Castiel’s growing and canonical love for Dean---which all makes the matter impossible to ignore. On more than one occasion the writers made choices that welcomed a destiel reading--not confirmed--but welcomed (which is, wait for it, queerbaiting!). I’d be shocked if no one read Dean as being queer coded and secretly in love with Castiel, who btw, is absolutely 100% romantically in love with Dean Winchester. The writers kept making decisions that fed hellers so well because Castiel is in love with Dean. It’s not just Misha who has confirmed it btw, but the writers themselves. You’re allowed to read it differently, just like destiel shippers read Dean differently than the writers have claimed, but you don’t get to tell other people they’re wrong--just like destiel shipping should never have gotten to the point were anyone who didn’t see destiel was reading the show wrong. However, the difference between saying Cas’ love is platonic and saying Dean’s love is queer is the difference between having zero textual evidence for a platonic reading of Cas’ love, and having lots of textual evidence for Dean’s heterosexuality. (Personally? My headcannon for Dean fluctuates between “so closeted he doesn’t even know he’s actually bisexual” and “very much aware he’s also into dudes but is pushing it down because : Winchester ™.” However, I’m more than happy to admit that my headcannon can’t be reasonably confirmed as fact. It can, however and like most headcannons within the destiel fandom, be comprehensively and intelligently argued to the point of exhaustion.)

The only reason to deny that 1.) it’s reasonable to read Dean as being queer-coded, not canonically bisexual, but queer-coded via textual and production decisions, and 2.) Castiel is romantically in love with Dean-- is if you’re someone who can’t give credit to the opposition just because they’re the opposition. Just because I hate Trump and think he’s the spawn of Putin’s asshole doesn’t mean I can’t admit he did *some* good work for criminal justice reform. The credibility of your argument goes to crap when you can’t admit when someone else has a good point- even if you don’t agree with their overarching theory or idea.

Obviously, the state of the Supernatural fandom is pretty much what it will be forever. Getting thousands of people to admit that its normal to find evidence to support an argument you don’t agree with (something philosophers do all the time because there is no such thing as truth and the world isn’t black and white and its shades of grey that make the rainbow bright and on and on and on), is definitely not in the cards for us. But, this is just me, throwing my altogether unnecessary opinion out there. 

(If you’re one of those people that like to troll people just for having an opinion and expressing it respectfully, please consider not doing that. I am but a baby in a trench coat.)

[ikathemadhatter]

For the meme, top 5 Death Note characters and why!

I’m sorry for the late reply, you know I had a hell of months but here ich back  💪 Characters aren’t really in order of preferences tho, but here we go:

1. L Lawliet

Rather predictable, he was my favorite character since I watched Death Note for the very first time.

What fascinated me back then (aka 2008) was the fact L character broke the canon detective type I’ve seen in movies and series for a long while. In a typical crime story, the detective is the good dude chasing after the evil criminal and bringing back order -swaying indeed the flag of justice. Following the reasoning of several characters, especially some in the Kira Task Force, L is Justice while Kira is the evil criminal. Apparently -but, in my brutal and honest opinion, I don’t believe L is the emblem of justice. He is represented as that but Death Note is also a story that talks about justice and shows how justice, a misleading concept created by imperfection itself (humanity), is a tool to justify your actions. Because let’s face it, L used his power and all his means to confine and torture two young people just to prove his suspects were true, he wouldn’t mind using people to achieve his goal aka catch Kira. He represents justice because he’s the three world's greatest detective because he solves the most difficult cases but haha this is his main hobby, his reason to live and he doesn’t exactly empathize with other characters. There are some panels where he shows feelings, I think he truly respects some agents of the Kira Task Force and didn’t want anyone to die, but at the same time the most of his actions weren’t righteous at all. At least this is my opinion but this is also why I love this character; last but not least, his quirkiness is unique and funny and another fact that tickled my interest is what is shown of his personality... I like to believe that his truer personality is what we see in the Yotsuba Arc, but I also think he is rather good at adjusting his personality to the task. I would see it coming from a person really able to lie and doing it with no regret.

2. Light Yagami

To be rather honest, I relate to this character for a variety of reasons and this is probably why it breaks my heart to see his decline in the second arc. I’ve read tons of mangas and watched tons of anime in my life, but he keeps being the best protagonist of a shonen manga in my opinion.

Might it be a controversial opinion or not, I don’t think Light is an evil character -especially he’s not a sociopath or a psychopath. Death Note’s plot marks perfectly how much the use of a simple tool like the notebook itself corrupts the soul no matter how good their intentions are; it’s a magic object, but most importantly it’s a tool that lets you kill someone by not effectively showing you’re committing murder. I think the human mind is affected in a different way if murder means washing your hands with blood, visually doing it, instead of simply writing down a name on a notebook and waiting for that person to die of a heart attack. This means I guess Light wouldn’t go that far if he has to actually kill people with his own hands; at the beginning of the manga he realizes what he did -killing people-, but he ‘recovered’ rather quickly from the shock because of two reasons:

- he didn’t physically kill them so his mind didn’t process the action of murder in that sense

- he found quickly a coping mechanism aka he rationalized the Death Note as a holy tool that would serve for a better purpose

Light is in fact a character with pure idealism. He killed most wanted criminals who actually deserved to die in order to make the world a better and safe place. Every one of us, at least once in our life, has thought a rather evil criminal should deserve to die -because we’re humans and our emotions may be harsh and strong even towards our similar. It’s within our nature. And so it was within Light’s nature, to naively believe that killing criminals the world would be better. He also did kill people coming in his way, yes, and he also knew that it was wrong to kill those innocent people meant to be a threat to him. Why did he do it anyway? Because at some point he knew he was a martyr, someone who had the responsibility to sacrifice for the sake of the whole world. He is more selfless than other characters I might say, rationally avoided any futile emotion that could hinder his actions and plans. I mean, try to think what it means to push back your emotions, to block out everything that makes you human in a sense. Someone else would have probably gone crazy... This is why I believe his last speech is much more a liberation like he’s spitting out everything he’s held back and carried alone on his shoulders for years. At some point you want people to understand your achievements, your ideals.

Light is indeed a controversial character, rather complex and there’s a lot you can tell about him. He did bad things, I  know but... I admire his will, to be honest.

3. Naomi Misora

MY QUEEN. I still think her death is the most brutal one... And even if I understand why her character needed to leave the main plot, it would have been rather interesting to see her interacting with L and the Kira Task Force. 

I thank the existence of Another Note, because we can form a better idea of her possible personality. She’s absolutely a strong woman, intuitive and her kind of reasoning follows L’s investigations somehow. It’s that kind of character who’s able to balance rationality and acumen, which makes her surely a good FBI agent; her only flaw, probably, but it’s also the reason I love her, it’s her empathy and ability to feel. It’s also true that in the Death Note she was veiled by the loss of her fiancee and she was too reckless at following Light, but it showed how fragile and human she could be.

Speaking of Another Note, I loved all those scenes where she follows B’s weird suggestions -like pretending to be a corpse or sitting in a crouch- because even she knows it might be stupid she’s also like ‘Okay let’s try’. Demonstration of a kind of open-mindedness.

4. Aizawa

I love the critical thinking process of this character. He never takes things for granted and let’s remember he even left the Kira Task Force because he didn’t agree with L’s me and methods. In the second arc, he suspects of Light, senses that something is off, and trusts his guts enough to make some researches on his own. He incarnated the typical detective character who really wants to bring back order and justice and probably his way to clash with L and Light’s way of thinking made me like this character. It wasn’t love at first sight, in fact, I appreciated him more reading the manga (which I read after watching the anime) but it’s a character you learn to respect.

5. Ryuk

Just look at him. At his design, at the weird way he twisted his body or when he goes crazy eating a delicious apple, at his stupid jokes and any silly moments... and you think he’s just a goofy character when bam! the least you expect he reminds you he’s a Shinigami, a very bored one, and as a Shinigami, his task is to write down some human being’s name. Light’s included -though in this case, he did say till the beginning he would be the one writing Light’s name when the moment would come.

What can I say? Look at him, he makes you laugh, he’s the Boogeyman, he’s goofy, he’s fucking scary.

In this list I should also add Beyond Birthday, but probably I like the idea I have of him. Anyway I love him we all know it bye haha-

[septic-skele]

UT - Care and Keeping

Summary: Five times Sans looked after Papyrus, and one time Papyrus looked after him.

I.

He was the smallest living thing Sans had ever seen, at least within the confines of his father’s workplace. On tiptoe outside the maturation chamber, palms pressed to the glass, Sans gazed in wonder at the form bobbing inside. He was barely the length of Sans’ ulna! Every so often he would shiver and squirm, as if restless to come out and play. Sans could hardly stand to wait for the day he did!

“I have errands to attend to elsewhere,” Gaster announced, casting his son a warning look. “Nothing will be disturbed while I’m away, correct?”

“Uh-huh, bye!” Sans called, barely listening as he watched bubbles float through delicate, developing ribs. “Hey, don’t be scared that Dad’s gone. I’m a big kid! I can take the bestest care of you.”

_______________________________________

II.

The baby was crying. Sans was too, tears evaporating into steam on his cheekbones, but that didn’t matter. The baby was on the hot, dry ground, tangled in a blanket, stubby arms and legs kicking at the air as he screamed.

It felt like a mile stretched between Sans and that bundle as he crawled, but beyond the terror and confusion the only shining thought in his mind was that it was his bundle. It had been shoved into his arms for some urgent reason. It was his, and his job was to save it from whatever awful, awful thing had happened.

“I’m here…Shhh, I’m here. I-I’ve got you!” he choked out as he eased weak arms underneath him. “I d-didn’t mean to…M’sorry you fell.”

Someone else had fallen too, hadn’t they? Somewhere.

_______________________________________

III.

Sleep didn’t come easily to Papyrus, even on a good night. On nights like these, starved and shivering, he was in absolute misery, which naturally meant he needed to make it known to the world so it could suffer with him. He had cried and carried on until he made himself sick—ugly, gasping sobs that left a mess of ectoplasmic bile on his chin and his threadbare shirt.

“You’re tired,” Sans pleaded, voice raspy from hours of speaking reassurances over him. Hazy with fatigue, he could barely keep ahold of his brother as he squirmed and struggled. “You’re tired, Papy, close your eyes.”

“I’m not! I’m not, I’m not!”

Scraping up vestiges of patience and strength he didn’t know he had, Sans wrapped an arm around the back of Papyrus’ skull and forced it down against his collarbone as he rocked him.

_______________________________________

IV.

“T-They didn’t mean anything by it, brother!” Papyrus piped up, cradling his skull where the stones had made contact. By some force of will he managed to keep his smile on, but Sans could see his eyelights watering. As the group of kids jeered and pointed, his shoulders shook too. “See? We’re all laughing! I-It was only a joke!”

A joke, huh? That was interesting. If Sans knew anything about his brother, it was that Papyrus didn’t find jokes all that appealing. Sans’ hands clenched in his pockets and their leader went stiff, hurtling wildly past the group and into the base of a tree with a startled yelp. The next rock intended for Papyrus bounced out of his hand.

“Heheheheh.” Sans tilted his head, shining eye panning over their gaping faces. “Wasn’t that funny? I got a few gags of my own to tell ya, if any of you think of stickin’ around. I'm here all night.”

_______________________________________

V.

“Sans, I…I tried very hard to reason with the human.” Papyrus’ voice was strained, quieter than he’d ever heard it. “They didn’t…even stay to listen. S-Shockingly poor manners…I had an inspiring speech prepared. I was sure they would…”

“I’m sorry,” Sans murmured hollowly, fingers gray with dust that sloughed off as he pet his brother’s skull to soothe him.

“That’s why you must deliver my message to them. Please, it’s…important. Tell them that they can do better, even if they don’t think so. Tell them that I believe in them…and…and…” His eye sockets—what was left of them—were glazing over.

“Don’t worry, Pap. I’m sure they already know.”

_______________________________________

+I.

“Sans? You’re breathing as if you’ve just been on a run, but I know that can’t possibly be the cause. Is there something that—? Oh, no!”

Something was definitely wrong but in this state Sans couldn't pinpoint what it was. The crushing pressure came down out of nowhere, the world swerving around him as his soul beat to the frantic tune of “Run, hide, get Papyrus out of here and run, not safe, never safe, can’t escape.”

“Sans? Sans. Never fear, brother, I’m right here,” Papyrus urged, grabbing Sans’ trembling shoulders with surprising gentleness to help him onto the floor. As he curled up, Sans croaked out something that was supposed to be intelligible. Papyrus was well-versed in translating. “Is your mind conjuring up those treacherous anti-safety thoughts again? You know it does that sometimes, which means you are prepared for it. You’ve beaten it before and you can do it again! I’ll help you! Nothing can withstand our combined attacks, not even something figuratively lurking within you!”

Despite himself Sans flinched at the volume of his voice and Papyrus’ face fell for just a moment. Then, tugging off one glove, he reached out, patiently enduring the solid minute that crawled by before Sans clutched his fingers.

“Those thoughts aren’t real, Sans. Look around us! It’s only you and I here, together, as it’s always been. There’s no danger dashing in to steal our happiness—and if one should suddenly choose to, I’ll protect you.”

With empty eye sockets Sans stared at his brother’s reassuring face, and his shaky handhold tightened. “…Yeah,” he managed, small and hoarse.

I’ll protect you.

[heyyyharry]

My Girl Series: Chapter 14 - Home Truth

…in which Y/N discovers a family secret, and Harry is in despair.

Series description: Y/N falls in love with the older boy next door who doesn’t feel the same, years later they meet again at a funeral.

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n; (4-year age gap)

Chapter 13: Ghosts - Y/N returns to Holmes Chapel, and Harry is a little too late.

A/N: The next chapter will be the last one of this book.

Warning: this is 8k word long, so it’s inevitable that I’ve made plenty of mistakes. If you spot some, just ignore them alright? 😂

OC version

.

"Y/N, can you take this to the attic?"

Y/N paused halfway down the stairs to lift an eyebrow at Marcy, who was holding a pile of old books and fashion magazines. The bride-to-be was probably influenced by their family tradition — in this house, they never threw away old things, instead, they either tried to fix them or hid them somewhere in case they might need them again. Most of those things ended up in the attic.

"Why don't you do it yourself? I'm busy," Y/N lied in order to get away with the little favor, only to realize how dumb she sounded. If she was in London, it would make total sense since the big city life was always in a rush. But now that she was in Holmes Chapel, how could she possibly be busy? All the people she wanted to be with were now far away. The only thing she could do was drive around town or bring a book to a coffee shop in her neighborhood to read the day away.

Marcy only gave Y/N a smile, ignoring the lame excuse as she insisted, "I would, but I'm allergic to dust. It'll only take a minute."

"Lucky you," Y/N muttered as she rolled her eyes and marched down the stairs to take the books and magazines from her future stepmother. 

Marcy thanked her for it before rushing back to the kitchen, probably to check on those cookies in the oven for her own wedding tomorrow morning. It was only a small celebration so the family did everything by themselves without hiring any wedding planner. Now that the decoration was all finished, Y/N wasn't much useful around the house since she couldn't cook. Therefore she told herself it was only fair if she did the small favor for Marcy.

To be honest, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the attic. That place used to be her nightmare when she was a little girl. The thought of evil creatures lurking in the dark among dusty old furniture and shelves was the reason she'd slept with the light on for an entire month after climbing up there once out of curiosity. Now that she was an adult, it was barely more than a crawl space with low ceiling and mold. She had to hang her head to walk in, trying to locate obstacles in the dark for the only source of light was from the long narrow windows near the ceiling.

The unsoftened echo of her footsteps on the floor made of timber brought on a claustrophobic feeling, and so she put the books and magazines in the corner to hurry back to the ladder as fast as she could.

Right before she reached the entrance, Y/N tripped over a small table and almost lost her balance. But she didn't fall, instead, she knocked over a dusty carton box which fell onto the floor and created a loud thump that echoed within the confined space. Dust flying all over the place got the girl coughing uncontrollably, still, she decided to bend down and clean up the mess she'd made.

The first thing that got her attention was a portrait of her younger self, sketched by her mother. Everything in that box belonged to her mother. Most of them were drawings and souvenirs she'd bought on their family trips. Y/N had no idea how long they'd been in this attic, but judging from the yellow hue of the paper, she would guess that they had been there since her mother was still alive.

As a result, Y/N ended up staying in the attic for longer than she'd intended to. She sat on the floor, going through the rest of the stuff in the box, feeling whole inside for the fact that most of her mother's sketches were of her face, some others were corners of their house and random objects like a tea set, a bowl of fruits, a flower vase,...

There wasn't anything unusual, until...there was.

At the bottom of the box lied a little tin box. The girl almost didn't see it for it was hidden too well. For some reason, just looking at it gave her a feeling that there was something inside she had to see.

With her heart thumping like a drum, she brought it to her lap and carefully opened it. It would've been a huge disappointment if the box had been empty like she'd feared, but her instinct rarely made a mistake. The box contained many letters written to her mother from a man named Dave Hardfield, alongside which was a photo of them together. His lips were on Tam's cheek and Y/N had never seen her mother smile that bright before. At first, Y/N assumed the man used to be one of her mother's boyfriends before meeting her dad. However, when she looked at the date on each letter, she discovered the truth that'd been hidden for all those years. Those letters, love letters to be exact, had all been written and sent when her parents were married already.

Y/N found out, to her dismay, there were worse fears than invisible monsters in the attic, it was the ones living within every person including the ones you thought you knew all too well.

She picked up one of the letters to read through the first few lines just to make sure she didn't draw any conclusion way too soon. But what she learned wasn't what her heart wished it'd be. Her mother had been in love, madly in love, but with another man, not her father.

She felt a lump in her throat when she read the part about them planning on leaving this town once the divorce had been settled. That letter came just a week before the accident.

The grip of her hands tightened, nearly tearing the page in two. She was so in shock that her brain stuttered for a moment and breathing became difficult. It took her a while to come back to her sense and gather everything besides the letter to put it back in the tin box before leaving.

She didn't even think as she hurried down the ladder, marching straight to the front door while clutching the letter in her hand. This man, whoever he was, might have the answers to most of the questions she'd been asking herself since her mother's death, beginning with what had happened the night of the accident. Y/N walked fast, wasting no time, yet her father appeared without warning to stop her right before she could reach for the doorknob.

"Where are you going?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who was quick to hide the letter behind her back.

"To a coffee shop," she said, trying too hard not to let her anxiety show. And maybe she was putting on such a good act that her dad didn't seem to suspect a thing.

"I was hoping you would stay to help us out."

"I will when I get back. Promise."

"Not so fast, young lady." Bradford cleared his throat loudly as he clutched her by the arm when she barely managed to escape. "You're acting strange. Are you alright?"

"Of course I am."

That reply was followed by the fakest laugh she'd ever pulled. Even she knew that, how could her father not?

"Is it—" The man paused to decide if he should make a guess. It wasn't really a guess since he already knew the truth. It was because of Harry. She'd been crying for that boy and hurting for that boy, like she had most of her life. It was obvious. But then again, Bradford pretended like he had no clue. His daughter had never been a sentimental person, not openly at least. Maybe it was one thing they both had in common.

"Never mind..." He sighed, twitching his lips. "Be back soon, alright?"

Smiling in return, Y/N gave her father a firm nod. "Hey dad, can I borrow your car?"

"Sure. But don't crash it."

It was meant to be a harmless joke. But as both of them came to realization, they just quietly stared at each other for two seconds long. Bradford handed her his car key, stuttering as he wanted to say something to lighten up the mood. Unfortunately, Y/N didn't hesitate to walk out of the door.

The truth was, she had no plan at all. She just knew she was going to see the man named Dave Hardfield, whose address was on the letters sent to her mum. She didn't even have the script of the things she should say, or the list of questions about everything she was dying to know. She just wanted to go see the man to learn the truth, whatever it was, even when she wasn't ready to hear it from a complete stranger.

Funny how one surprise came right after another without a single break. The last person Y/N would expect to show up in Holmes Chapel right now, was waiting right outside her house by his car.

"Isaac?" She gasped, walking fast towards the man whose smile was as bright as the sun when he saw her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I was worried about you. Wanted to make sure you were alright."

"So you...drove all the way here from London...to see me?"

He took a deep breath, letting it all out. "You're gonna tell me I'm stupid for doing this, aren't you?"

To his surprise, she shook her head fast and pulled him into a hug so tight that it almost took his breath away, literally. Y/N didn't seem to care as she kept repeating the words "thank you" into his shoulder, leaving him no choice but to also wrap his arms around her.

It finally occurred to her how desperate she was for a hug. It didn't matter whose. She just needed to feel a little bit of comfort after the series of traumatic events that'd been after her lately. At least with Isaac, she knew there was only peace.

"I'm going to Heartward," she said, pulling away but her hands were still resting on his hips. "Wanna come with me?"

"Where is that?"

"It's a town nearby, only an hour drive from here."

"Sure. Let's go."

Shocked by the answer, she grabbed him by the wrist when he turned back to unlock his car doors.

"You're not gonna ask me why I'm going there?" She raised both eyebrows, mouth agape. He, on the other hand, looked as cool as ever.

"We've got an hour in the car, right?" Isaac said with a beam as he opened the door on the passenger side for Y/N.

Now she felt the need to hug him again for she didn't think she could ever repay his kindness. In order to save time, however, she'd probably save that later. If they didn't get going right away, they wouldn't be back soon enough for her dad to not suspect a thing.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed with a bright smile, watching Isaac shake his head as he laughed before getting into the vehicle as well.

.

.

.

For most of her life, Y/N had lived in Holmes Chapel and hadn't realized until now that she'd never gone any further than her neighborhood. This was her first journey to a different town in Cheshire. As turned out, it was a lot different from her own. The streets here were narrower and the houses were smaller. While Holmes Chapel had always been simple, Heartward was a maze with the labyrinth of roads, as complex as the human heart.

"Are you nervous?" Isaac's voice pulled Y/N's attention away from the window, back on him.

"Of course I am." She snorted, inhaling deeply to let the silence sink back in for a couple seconds before speaking up again. "What type of person do you think he is?"

"Probably kind. I mean, your mother was kind."

The answer made the girl chuckle as she lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't even know my mother."

"I know you," he said, his blue eyes sparkled with joy.

In that instant, Y/N felt warm within and she was glad he'd shown up at her door. She would still be freaking out right now if she'd gone alone. It was rather funny how she'd been his damsel in distress countless times ever since they first met. Sometimes she did think about it and wondered how he still felt about her after everything. Was he nice to the others too or her only? If the latter was the case, then there was another reason for her to believe she didn't deserve someone like him.

The smile grew on Y/N's face as she watched Isaac's face screw up while he was concentrating on the road ahead. That same smile, sadly, died out the second he brought up the name she'd tried to erase from memory.

"Have you talked to Harry?"

Y/N gave Isaac a shrug, turning back to the window on her side. "I will...at some point."

He didn't ask any further, thank god for that. The last thing she wanted was for him to figure out what had really happened between her and Harry. Though she no longer felt the pressure to reveal her sexual relationship with him to Isaac or anyone else for that matter, she was still afraid what Isaac might think of her if somehow he found out. Honestly, she felt cheap. Even though her feelings for Harry had always been true, to him she was just a replacement, nothing but a body to get him through the night while his heart stayed missing somebody else. But that was exactly what she'd signed up for, so she shouldn't be bitter now that it didn't end the way she wanted.

"Speaking of the devil," the girl muttered under her breath when a couple texts from H popped up on her screen.

"Read it," Isaac said, his eyebrows furrowed. "He must worry about you a lot."

Little did he knew, Y/N did want to. She really wanted to.

Harry had called her a hundred times since this morning and she'd fought herself from answering those calls. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if she only read his texts and not reply to them. Nodding in response to Isaac's words, she eventually opened those messages.

⌲ H: If you get this, please text me back.

⌲ H: Let me know you're safe.

⌲ H: Please call me back, text me, anything.

⌲ H: I need to talk to you please.

"So? How's he?"

Y/N turned off her phone and put it away as she also turned a deaf ear to Isaac's question.

"You haven't told him where I am, right?" She asked in concern, only to sigh in relief when he shook his head.

"If I had, he would be here instead of me." With a slight chuckle, he added, "you're really good at ghosting on people, Smiley."

"Only the ones who deserve it."

When Y/N received no reply, she turned to see the goofy grin on the man's face.

Pinching his lip slightly, Isaac kept his eyes on the road rather on her as he joked, "if I hadn't texted you when I was in Italy, we would never have spoken again, right?"

She knew he wasn't serious when he said that, but his expression alone could still pain her heart. A sense of guilt flooded into her hollow chest to replace the comfort she'd been feeling this entire time in the car with him. Isaac was too nice to admit that she had hurt him too for coldly turning him down once before. She'd been too busy paying attention to how she was feeling and forgotten about him. Why was he still here after everything? Why was he still treating her like the only person in the world who mattered? Why hadn't he asked for anything in return?

"Isaac—"

"Oh! We're here!" The man happily announced as he slowed down and pulled his car over on the side of the road. She wasn't sure if he cut her off on purpose or he genuinely didn't hear her. But maybe this wasn't the time to talk about them.

"Are you sure this is the place?" She asked in disbelief when they both got out of the car at the same time.

"It is. I've checked the address twice," he assured, yet looking just as appalled as she was.

The house they were looking for was square and grey, with narrow windows that looked far from picturesque. Y/N had to check the address for the third time to make sure it matched the one on the letter. This place looked like it'd been abandoned for years. Maybe the owner didn't really care to pay enough attention to making his front yard and porch look even the slightest presentable.

Exchanging worrying looks with Isaac, she finally found enough courage to press the doorbell. She wasn't sure if anybody was home because through the windows all that she saw was a part of the pitch dark living room as far as natural light could reach.

Fortunately, just when the two of them thought they might have to leave empty-handed, the door slowly creaked open.

Y/N had never met this man in her life, but his expression when he saw her made her think he had known her his entire life. His face was stern, yet peaceful. And even though his hair was turning grey and the wrinkles were slightly visible on his broad forehead, he still appeared quite handsome for a man his age.

"Excuse me, sir," Y/N spoke after two awkward seconds passing by unnoticed. "Are you...Dave Hardfield?"

"Yes, I am." The middle-aged man nodded, his eyes were still round as he stared at her in confusion. "You are..."

"I'm Y/N, Tam's daughter," she said, handing him the envelope she'd been holding the entire time. "I found your letter in my attic, and—"

That sentence was left unfinished when Dave opened his arms and dragged her into a hug without warning. Isaac flinched, nearly pulling Y/N back for he feared the man might do something to her, but the moment he spotted the hopeful look on Dave's face, he decided to stay back and remain silent.

"You look just like her."

Those words from the stranger made Y/N's eyes well up when he loosened his embrace to cup her face. He examined her features, eyes glistened with tears as a smile spread across his chapped lips.

"She has the same beautiful eyes."

"Wow...that's very...nice of you. Thank you..."

Isaac couldn't help but chuckle at Y/N's reply, receiving a playful glare when she turned back to him.

"Come in, you two! come in!" Dave said fast, giving Y/N and Isaac no time to hesitate before urging them into his living room. When the door was shut, and the lights were on, Y/N saw the living proof of the saying 'never judge a book by its cover'. The interior was the opposite of the mess she'd seen when she first arrived — tidy and very well-taken care of.

Dave's living room gave away more than it was supposed to. Every decoration was soft and homely, showing the fact that he probably lived alone. In order to fill the void, he had created a cozy place that made him feel safe and warm so he wouldn't have to come home to remember how lonely he was. Y/N would know that better than anyone.

Above the fireplace were pictures of him with his children, she assumed, for they were arranged from the left when his twins were babies to the latest one on the right being the three of them together at the girls' graduation. There was no photo of the wife.

Dave sat down on his chair and pointed to the sofa in front of him, telling his two guests to make themselves at home. There was already a tea set on the table, so he made two cups for Y/N and Isaac, saying that he'd already had his before they arrived.

"So Y/N, is this your boyfriend?"

"No." Y/N blushed hard when she caught Isaac's stare and turned away quickly.

"My name's Isaac, I'm her friend from London," said the young man as he reached out to shake Dave's hand, showing his signature Prince Charming smirk. How could anyone not go soft for that?

"Oh, how do you like Holmes Chapel so far, son?"

"To be honest, I've been in Heartward for longer than Holmes Chapel." He chuckled, glancing at Y/N who furrowed her eyebrows at him. "This one literally dragged me here when I first arrived at her house."

She pushed his shoulder playfully, laughing along. "In my defense, I did ask if he wanted to come."

"The things we do for these ladies, right?"

Dave's comment made Isaac chuckle, but Y/N had already turned away to hide the fact that she was all flustered.

As the young people enjoyed their tea, the older man took his own letter out of the envelope, smiling nonchalantly at the memories while rereading what he'd written two years ago.

Y/N gave him a moment to get lost in his happy thoughts before breaking the silence among the three of them. "So it's true...you and my mother..."

The man's beam slowly turned into a frown as he sighed heavily, putting the letter back into its envelope.

"Yes," he confessed, eyes locked with the girl who still seemed in denial even though she'd known the truth ever since she first read his letter. Her mother, a cheater? The woman she'd looked up to her entire life turned out to be that kind of person? It didn't make any sense.

"We were in love," Dave went on despite the look on her face. "It wasn't something I was proud of, to fall head over heels for a married woman. But...I guess we never get to choose whom we fall in love with."

Isaac's eyes were on Y/N, yet hers were fixed on the man who was speaking. She didn't know how to feel anymore. Should she hate this man for ruining her parents' marriage just like how she had hated Marcy for thinking it was her? The problem was, she couldn't grow to hate him, not even the tiniest bit.

"How old are you?" Dave asked, eyes squinting at Y/N.

"Twenty."

"Wow." He sucked in a breath and rubbed his palms together nervously. "You were fifteen when I met her. Can't believe it's been five years."

"Were you married at the time?"

"No. My ex-wife left me when my girls were only six. They barely remember her."

The look on his face was heartbreaking still.

"I'm sorry," said Y/N as she wetted her dry lips. "Uhm...where are your children now?"

"They're both living in California with their husbands. I'm very proud of them," he said with a huge grin. That was enough to tell how much his children meant to him. "They're just four years older than you."

"Oh, they're the same age as you!" Y/N told Isaac, who responded with a slight laugh for how excited she seemed to discover the coincidence.

"When the girls left home, I was devastated," Dave continued with a sad smile, looking at them both. "Tam was the best thing to happen to me at the time. I believe I was also hers. She was unhappy in her marriage, yet she couldn't leave because...she didn't want to force you to choose between her and your father."

Y/N stayed silent, nodding her head slowly.

"The day of the accident, he found out about us and they got into a fight." His voice grew smaller and weaker as he recalled the tragic event that took away the woman he loved. "When I received the news, my whole world fell apart. Even now...I still blame myself for what happened to her. If I'd just given up and let her go, maybe she would still be here."

So that was how it'd happened. Her mother's affair was the reason there'd been a fight. That was why she'd given her father back the ring and drove away from the damage she'd caused. That was the truth — a hard pill to swallow.

"But you made her happier than my father did..." She spoke after a moment sinking deep in her own thoughts.

"You...don't hate me?" Dave seemed surprised by her reaction. It was certainly not what he'd expected.

"No." The girl shook her head. "At least now I know she was truly loved. So...thank you."

Dave didn't say anything else. Y/N didn't ask either. They exchanged heartwarming smiles, and Isaac reached out to hold the hand on her lap, giving her a look that said he was there for her if she wanted emotional support. Maybe that was she needed to feel at peace again.

The drive home was strangely comforting for all the secrets had been revealed, and what was left was just bare relief. Staring out of the car window, Y/N recorded the last images of Heartward into her mind like a goodbye to the little town. Then she began to wonder how many times her mother had driven down that same road, or if she had remembered the map of Heartward like the back of her hand. Maybe Heartward was her mother's London, the place that wasn't really home, but there lived the man whom her heart would always belong to.

.

.

.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course I am." The girl chuckled slightly as she watched Isaac stand with his back against the car, one hand still holding hers. Now that she was home safe and he knew that she was safe. She wondered what would happen next. Would they say their goodbyes and he go back to London, maybe back to Italy even?

The problem was, now she didn't want him to go.

"You sure you're okay?" He raised both eyebrows, making her toss her head back and crack up.

"Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you that I am?"

"Alright, alright, just wanted to be sure," he said, grinning from ear to ear and checking his watch.

Y/N studied his expression closely, wishing she could ask him to stay, a part of her was still reluctant that she might've troubled him too much already. Nevertheless, it wasn't her to decide what happened next.

"Y/N!"

The loud voice caused both Isaac and Y/N to let go of each other's hands as they turned to her front door. Her father rushed towards them, followed by Marcy. Both seemed so distressed that Y/N thought it was quite hilarious.

"You're safe!"

"Dad, I've only been gone for a couple hours."

Isaac chuckled as he watched the girl trying to break away from her father's arms.

"The car was here and you were gone, so I thought—"

"That I got kidnapped by the ice-cream man?" She laughed, holding him by the arms. It was then that Marcy finally noticed the handsome young man standing right behind her future stepdaughter.

"Oh!" She squealed happily. "Who's your friend, Y/N?"

"Hi, I'm Isaac, Y/N's friend from London. You must be the bride."

"I am!" The woman shook his hand enthusiastically, giving him a massive smile. "Hey, why don't you stay for our wedding? A friend of Y/N's is a friend of ours!"

"Thank you, ma'am. But I'm only here for today. I'm leaving now actually."

"Would you like to stay though?"

All eyes were on Y/N when she asked that question. She couldn't really blame them for even she didn't believe in her own words. Her cheeks instantly turned red as she was sure Isaac noticed how shy she was. His smile grew a bit wider.

"Stay for the wedding?" He questioned, probably just wanting her to say it again.

"Yeah..." She nodded fast, eyes to the side instead of looking at him. "Uhm...I do need a wedding date."

"Wait, but I thought Har—"

"That's a great idea!" Bradford cut his bride off just in time as he stepped forward to pat the young man on the back. "It's not safe to drive back to London through the night. Come in, we'll have the guest room ready for you."

"But I'm not formally dressed for the wedding—"

"Don't worry about that. It's just gonna be a family party," Bradford said, rolling his eyes. "Besides, you cannot miss an opportunity to see Y/N in a pink dress for the first time since she decided that adolescent angst suited her personality better."

"Dad!" Y/N cried out, causing the other three to dissolve into laughter. Hiding her face with one hand, she sneaked a look at Isaac, who couldn't stop beaming at this point. There was something about the radiant joy on his face that made her feel calm. Holding back a laugh, she watched Marcy pull him into their house.

Marcy was still baking for the wedding tomorrow, and since she had to do it all on her own, she was thrilled to bits when Isaac offered his help.

"I used to help my mum in the kitchen all the time," said the young man. That was enough to convince her that he was qualified to be the Executive Sous Chef in her kitchen. Bradford intended to join them as well, but Y/N stopped him right before he could volunteer to lend a hand.

"Dad, can we talk in private?" She asked, holding onto his arm.

In this household, they rarely discussed their conflicts and problems, just like old furniture, they put those in a dark corner and pretended they didn't exist until someone suddenly remembered they were still there. But look at what all these secrets they'd kept from each other had turned them into? A broken family. They had never been truly happy under the same roof. From now on, something had to change.

Bradford followed his daughter upstairs to her room where their conversation couldn't be heard. When she asked him to sit down in her chair and shut the door, he knew it was something serious. So serious that someone who had avoided every single heart-to-heart talk in her life like Y/N must initiate this conversation.

Without further ado, she sat down on the edge of her bed and handed him the letter from Dave Hardfield. Judging by the look on his face, she knew he had never expected her to find out like this, if at all.

"I came to see him today," she spoke at last, tearing down the silence which was only tormenting them both. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I found out about this the day before your graduation, darling. And the accident came right after. This news would've broken you even more."

"What about after the funeral? What about when I moved to London? You'd had so many chances to tell me," she stated. The tears in her eyes were inevitable yet it still hurt him to see her cry. He didn't need to know she'd been holding them back since the moment she found those letters in the attic. He didn't need to know what the other man had said to her. All he knew was his little girl had been through so much only to find out the truth about her mother from a stranger.

"I didn't want you to hate her for this."

His answer left a lump in her throat as she swallowed her tears and narrowed her eyes at him.

"So you just let me hate you instead?"

When he nodded, her heart nearly cracked open.

"She was a better parent than I am," he said with his head hung low. "You used to tell her everything. I can't-I don't remember the last time we sat down and talked like this. Everything I know about you, your mother told me. The bond you two had was so strong, and you looked up to her so much, I couldn't take that idea of her away from you. I wanted you to always think about her as a role model so you would always have a reason to never give up."

Y/N was speechless. She pressed her lips tight and could only nod fast to replace the words she couldn't come up with right now. Bradford scooted his chair closer so he could take her hand and hold it tight, meanwhile wiping away the tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, what he should've done years ago.

"Did you...did you ever love her?" Her voice trembled as if it was going to break anytime soon.

"I did. I still do," he admitted, his eyes now glistened with tears. "My biggest regret was not appreciating her presence in my life. I didn't treat her right because I thought she would always be around, until she wasn't anymore."

"So...did you hate her?"

"No." The father shook his head. "And I hope you won't either."

She looked at him through the tears, subconsciously reaching up to touch the locket lying close to her heart which was now racing faster than ever. Letting out a shaky breath, she said, "what she did cannot change the fact that she loved me, and she was the nicest person I knew. How can I ever stop loving her?"

"Good."

That one-word reply was so simple yet just enough. It was heartbreaking and beautiful at the same time how they both cried and wiped away each other's tears only to smile again. This was the closest Y/N had ever been to feeling fulfilled.

When she was little, every time her parents fought, she used to wish for a better family with perfect parents who never argued. But maybe this was the best she could get. At least now she knew her imperfect family could finally be a happy one.

"Brad!" Marcy's voice from downstairs made Bradford and Y/N turn to the door. "Don't think you can get away with not helping me!"

"We'd better go." Y/N chuckled as she rose from the bed. But before she could reach the door, Bradford stopped her by the words he hadn't said in too long.

"I love you."

Y/N couldn't keep track of how many nights she'd lost sleep over those three words. She had faced the fear that she might not get to hear them back. She had faced the reality that she didn't get to hear them back. To hear them now from the man she thought she should hate most in her life had filled the empty space inside her chest, even if temporarily.

"I love you, too," she said almost as a whisper but loud enough for her father to hear. Without waiting for a reaction from him, she rushed into his arms, hugging him for the first time since she was just a little girl.

Now that she was older, she must accept the fact that her parents weren't heroes and she might not really know the people she'd always thought she knew. However, true love was constant. The love for her mother, for Harry, would always be there, no matter what kind of people they turned out to be or what secrets they'd kept from her. Just like herself, she knew they had their own pain so she couldn't blame them for their mistakes.

She might not replicate what she had lost. She wasn't sure anyone could ever fill the shoes of her mother or him. But some love could only be beautiful if kept in memory. Thus from now on, she was willing to let them both go.

.

.

.

"So, this photo was taken on her first day of kindergarten."

"Brad! Look at her cute pigtails! I can't believe you never showed me this before!"

Y/N sat on the armchair facing the other three on the sofa opposite from her. They had their noses stuck the family photo album. It was like a game to see who could spot the most embarrassing photo of her as a child. Apparently, her dad was winning.

"Are you guys all done?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest as her face contorted, but nobody flinched.

"Aww, the Donald Duck Halloween costume." Isaac chuckled. He tried to ignore her, yet couldn't help but glance up to catch a glimpse of the look on her face as she scoffed in response to his comment.

When Y/N picked out a daisy in front of her and tossed it at him, Marcy wasted no time to grab the vase, holding it firmly against her chest.

"The whatever you want, just don't hurt my flowers!" She said.

"Okay, the fun's over!" Y/N rose from her seat to grab the photo album and put it aside. With both hands on her hips, she lifted an eyebrow at the men. "Chop-chop. Get back to work."

"Yes, ma'am," Isaac and Bradford said at the same time as they hurried back to the tasks they'd been assigned before getting distracted by those photos.

Bradford stood up so Y/N could take his place next to Isaac and continue arranging those wedding flowers for Marcy. Meanwhile, the father kept on looking for that cookbook he hadn't seen in years, only because Marcy's parents expected him to cook for them tomorrow night. He was just about to head upstairs and search in his room, when his phone began to ring.

It was Harry.

The man had hesitated for a long moment before picking up that call. He didn't want to see Y/N's reaction if she caught him speaking to Harry. Even so, he still wanted to know what had happened between them, knowing she would refuse to confide in him, or anyone for that matter.

"Hello?" He finally answered, keeping his voice down so his family couldn't hear.

"Is Bambi, I mean, Y/N...Is Y/N there, sir? If she is, can you get her on the phone?"

Bradford had known Harry since he was little, and he knew Harry was a good person by nature. However, after seeing the pain his daughter had endured, he now must pick a side.

Sitting in his living room was the man who made his daughter laugh, on the phone was the one who made her cry. The choice should be fast and simple, yet there was utter guilt within his heart when he decided to keep Harry from the truth.

"She went out a while ago," he lied, his heart fell to silence as a long pause followed right after.

"She doesn't wanna talk to me, right?" The sadness was clear in Harry's voice when he finally spoke.

Even though Bradford had no idea Isaac was Harry's best friend, he was aware that Harry's heart would be crushed if he found out Y/N was laughing with another man on the sofa, and the same man would accompany her to the wedding tomorrow. The father had no other choice but to be frank, "I think you should wait until after the wedding, when she returns to London. You know, give her time."

Harry was quiet for a while, as if to ponder on his own.

"Sir...do you think she still hates me?"

For this question, the older man took a deep breath. "I don't know Y/N that well, but she can never hate you."

"I know I would if I were her."

"Y/N always says things she doesn't mean. I thought you would know that better than anyone else." Bradford chuckled slightly. "She said she hated you when you left the first time, yet she still sent you those letters."

"Letters?" Harry sounded like he almost choked on the word. "What letters?"

"You never received any? That's odd...She used to check our mailbox every day, and her mother once told me that she'd been writing to you."

Bradford waited, yet the reply what came after was nothing but silence.

"Harry?" He mumbled, assuming something was wrong with the phone and the young man couldn't hear him well, until Harry cleared his throat and said that he was still listening, he must hang up now regardless.

"Can you please ask her to call me back?"

Harry's plea for help sounded so desperate. Now Bradford could only feel sorry for the boy. He looked over his shoulder, into the living room. Y/N and Isaac had long forgotten that they were supposed to be arranging the wedding flowers. They were too busy fooling around by putting daisies in each other's hair while guffawing like children. Seeing the beam on his daughter's face, Bradford was able to empathize with Harry. It definitely wasn't easy to remember how much you loved someone only when came someone else who wiped away their tears and made them smile again.

"Take my advice," the father spoke with a soft reminiscent sigh, turning his back to Y/N and Isaac. "Some things are not meant to be said on the phone."

The two-second pause on Harry's part made Bradford believe his guess was right all along. What Harry wanted to say were the three words that had started this whole mess, and Y/N deserved to hear them in person.

"I know," the young man spoke at last. "Thank you so much." And just like that, he muttered his goodbye.

The call ended with a sense of sorrowful regret, leaving Bradford standing still with messy thoughts flowing through his mind. It was Y/N's voice that pulled him back to reality.

"Dad, who was it?"

Turning his head fast, the man locked eyes with his daughter's. For a second, it was Tam that he saw staring back at him, and in that instant, he realized how much Y/N resembled her late mother.

"Was it him?" Her eyebrows furrowed when he nodded his head as an answer. What was the use of lying when she already knew the truth?

"You should call him back," he suggested. "He wanted to talk to you."

"But I don't wanna talk to him." Y/N's answer turned the man speechless. He parted his lips, yet she was quick to cut him off before he even figured out what else to say. "If he calls again, tell him he doesn't have to feel sorry...It was also my fault for expecting too much."

"Darling, it's not your f—"

"Tell him I won't call him back." Y/N interrupted her father once again. "There's really no point in torturing each other anymore."

From the look in her expressive eyes, the man understood that his daughter was badly hurt by those words of her own, yet she must say them otherwise she could never truly move on.

In silence, he watched her go back to the living room where Marcy was now instructing Isaac how to arrange those daisies. Even though he respected Y/N's decision, Bradford knew, just like him, a small part of her still wished it was Harry instead.

.

.

.

It was quite a wrench to Harry when that call came to an end and he hadn't got to hear her voice. The director got really mad at him for being distracted during filming and checking his phone way too often. Harry made up an excuse that he was just tired, yet none of the people he worked with was convinced. It'd been the worst day in his life ever since she left.

On the drive home, he couldn't stop replaying the conversation with one of his co-stars, who said, "I feel like this isn't what you love anymore."

He'd thought about that sentence a lot before coming to the conclusion that the man who'd said it was completely wrong. This had nothing to do with him being lazy or losing motivation since acting was what he was born to do. He loved his job, and was indeed grateful for all that he had now. But there were also the other things that he loved, one of which was her.

Now she was 185 miles away from him. And he couldn't even get her on the phone just to explain why he'd hesitated to admit that he loved her, to apologize and beg for another chance. He knew he couldn't make it back to the wedding because he'd got a commercial to shoot tomorrow morning, and he couldn't wait until after because it'd be too long. But maybe her father was right, words would sound much more sincere if they were said in person.

There was, however, something else that was bothering him. Bradford had mentioned those letters she'd written to him when she was younger. At first, he'd assumed they all had got lost in the mail, yet it seemed too much of a coincidence to be true, unless the universe really didn't want him to read them.

What if she'd never sent those letters? If so, where were they now?

Harry was too lost in the questions for himself that he almost didn't recognize his assistant who was waiting for him outside his house. The girl had to call out his name to get his attention as he walked right past her.

"Jo? What are you doing here so late?"

"Jeff said you had a rough day on set so he asked me to buy you dinner," said the short brunette as she fixed her glasses and handed the food to her boss. "And Miss Ruby Ellis called me a couple times today asking to talk to you, but I told her you were busy. Do you want me to set up a date—"

"No. It's fine," he cut her off fast, pressing his lips into a small smile. "Next time just ignore her calls."

"Oh...Okay...One more thing!" The girl stopped her boss when he unlocked his door. "I brought your laundry into your room and accidentally knocked over the books on your nightstand. I already put them back."

"Jo, you don't have to report everything to me," Harry replied as he chuckled, assuming the girl was new to her job so she was just overly careful.

Jo shook her head quickly. "I was afraid that you would see the books in a different place and think I got intrusive and read your journal or something."

"My journal?"

"Yeah, the pink notebook with your name at the back."

Harry's eyes went wide as realization hit him like a fast-moving train. He thanked his assistant, saying a fast goodbye before rushing into his house. The first thing he did was run to his bedroom and get Y/N's notebook.

She'd had it since she was nine. He always knew she wrote a lot in there, including her random thoughts, her favorite quotes, her story ideas, almost everything she could come up with; some she'd read to him, some she'd kept to herself. But he never actually got to read for himself.

If she was writing letters that she never planned on sending, would there be a better place to keep them?

Harry felt awful as he brought the pink notebook to his lap and sat down on the bed, inhaling deeply. He wouldn't want anyone to read his deepest and most personal thoughts, surely she wouldn't be happy to find out that he wanted to read hers. He was going to anyway. Desperation had got the best of him.

With trembling hand, he flipped to the back of the notebook, and immediately spotted his name written in small capital letters at the bottom corner of the hardcover. Harry didn't know why he was smiling as he gently ran his thumb over the word. He missed her too much that such a small detail could make his heart flutter.

After contemplating it for a whole minute, he took another deep breath and opened it for the first time.

Here goes nothing, said his inner voice.

The first page, which he'd seen once before, was filled with silly doodles made by a nine-year-old, hence they weren't pretty. He still remembered the day she showed him these and got mad when he made fun of her for her awful drawing skill. The memory made Harry chuckle as he turned to the second page where lied the very first entry. The ink was slightly faded due to all the years it'd lived by. Her handwriting used to be so easy to read.

On the first line right below the date, she wrote:

My definition of true happiness is the boy next door. His name is Harry Styles.

[dedicatedfollower467]

i can’t believe homestuck 2 legitimately makes me want to re-read THE FUCKING EPILOGUES

why the fuck do i want to re-read the epilogues??????

the answer is because now i think i might actually understand the point that is being made about the relationship between authorship and authority, and now that i know that’s what they’re about and that they’re not like. supposed to be satisfying conclusion of character arcs, or even about the characters at all. i might actually enjoy them more?

(this got really long so i’m putting the rest under a cut because uh. turns out i have a lot to fucking say about the homestuck epilogues)

reading the homestuck epilogues the first time around was like reading fucking Waiting for Godot and expecting it to be a wacky feel-good buddy comedy, which is to say, sure, there’s some funny joke-y moments but like. you’re going to be severely disappointed my dude.

i was genuinely expecting the epilogues to be character-driven story arcs with a coherent, satisfying plotline that made me feel good about the end. like i thought we were going to see the conclusion of the beta kids’ arcs while they fought LE in a thematic way. i thought we were gonna get to see terezi find vriska. i thought we might even get to see karkat do the bloody thing. i thought they were going to be STORIES.

And that absolutely, positively, 100% was NOT what they were, and was not the fucking point of them? so i just completely misread them. like, legitimately the main reason i was so disappointed was because i went into them with a set of expectations that did not line up at ALL with what the epilogues actually were.

and it hurt and it sucked to see all these characters tortured and twisted into unrecognizable shapes. like watching jane turn into a fascist and rapist, and jade become a vapid, overbearing ass, and rose just fall apart, and john driven deeper and deeper into depression, and just nearly everyone becoming completely ooc, it all HURT. it hurt REALLY BAD.

i also project hard onto the strider boys, so watching dirk especially become a literal villain really really fucking hurt. like, i am not gonna lie here, dirk’s face-heel turn in meat and suicide in candy legitimately contributed to my depression for a little while there. i wrote a fucking comic about how bad it hurt.

and gamzee’s whole “redemption” bullshit in candy absolutely made it worse. it felt like hussie himself was deliberately spitting on me, erienne mccray, in particular, for liking a narrative where someone with bad tendencies becomes a good person, by making a choice every day to be better. it felt like a fucking assault.

but like. that wasn’t actually the point of the epilogues. practically none of the actual content of either epilogue is actually the point.

because the epilogues aren’t about story content, they’re about story format. they are explicitly trying to get the reader to think about the idea of narrative, as a concept, and authorship as the final arbiter of canon.

dirk’s not an inherently bad or villainous person, it’s just that hussie needed an antagonist author within the story to take control of the narrative, and dirk was easy to convert given exactly who his splinter selves are. dirk is a villain because in homestuck, the author is a villain, and dirk is the author because the premise idea required someone within the narrative taking control of it, because hussie and LE theoretically can’t reach beyond the boundaries of homestuck canon.

(and holy shit it just occurred to me that might be why andrew hussie isn’t actually writing this content by himself, hussie-the-character is confined to the canon, so hussie-the-author deliberately is de-centering himself from the extra-canonical parts of franchise here holy shit)

likewise, the twisting of other epilogue characters isn’t trying to say that those characters are inherently bad. like jane isn’t inherently a fascist or rapist. it’s just that in the political climate of the world today, talking about fascism and reproductive freedom and sexual assault is an important fucking conversation to have, and again, given jane’s canonical dialogue, it was easiest to twist her to make the story fit the themes the epilogues were exploring.

and ultimately, the basic premise of the epilogues - that they are extra-canonical texts which have no more or less validity than any other extra-canonical homestuck text - really drives home the fact that they’re not about the story. they’re about who gets to tell it, and why.

and i think that, armed with the knowledge that they’re a very deliberate meta-narrative exploration of the concept of authorial agenda (which is something homestuck, and frankly hussie himself, given literally all of his other creative work, has always been very interested in) and a deconstruction of the entire concept of “canon” and “word of god” confirmation... i think i could re-read the epilogues and actually genuinely enjoy them for what they are instead of being mad that they’re not what i thought they would be?

like, a second time around i would go in knowing that it’s gonna hurt, but the characters i love and their twisted suffering aren’t the point. the characters of the epilogues are only there to demonstrate proof positive of the meta-narrative concept of author-as-antagonist, and how a story works. because the epilogues were never actually about characters. they’re about how thinking a single author’s agenda in telling a story is fucking tyrannical

basically what i’m saying is the homestuck epilogues are about how the Author Is Not Dead And Cannot Die, because Every Author Has an Agenda, but it is imperative that we, as a group Kill the Author Stone Cold Dead, because The Author Is a Tyrant who Oppresses the Freedom of the Narrative

idk if i’ll actually re-read them or not but... i think now i’m more at peace with them than i thought i was. because i’m actually very interested in the concepts they’re exploring. i’m really interested in metanarrative and how stories work.

i’ve been thinking so much about this specifically because of homestuck 2 and some of the things dirk says in it and how he’s portrayed/portraying himself. and even though i haven’t played pesterquest yet, the existence of pesterquest and its basic premise have also got me thinking

i guess what i’m saying is, homestuck 2 legitimately made me excited about homestuck again, but this time i’m excited about it for the reasons i think hussie and the creative team behind the homestuck franchise actually want me to be.

[truerequitedlove]

Dan and Phil Versus The World

pff bingo: interactive introverts & glass closet

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, introspection, reality/non-au

Word Count: 3k

“I mean...we’re not in the closet. Not really,” Phil says.

“Phil, this is the closet.”

read on ao3

~•~•~ 

The idea had started simply enough. 

“We should go on another tour.”

That had been the start, one night, far too soon after their last tour’s end. It had come after a long night of drinking, and of talking, and of planning. 

The night had been filled with plans, but they weren’t the sort of plans that Dan and Phil would write down. These plans were softly spoken plans filled with taboo words whispered through a veil of liquid courage. Words like ‘branding’ and ‘coming out’ and ‘privacy’ and ‘us’ and ‘them.’

‘Them.’ 

This particular word had become taboo quite a long time ago. It always sounded just a bit wrong. Like talking about someone behind their back. Like generalizing a group of diverse individuals. A few years prior, they would have been fine with doing so, but it felt strange then. It was early-2017, and they were still riding the leftover waves of TATINOF’s massive success.

Dan and Phil were just finishing their first-ever world tour, and they’d seen these people. These millions of faces that supported them. They’d hugged hundreds of them. They’d heard their stories. Stories of finding happiness in silly gaming banter and finding courage in quotes from videos that Dan barely remembers scripting. They had read through letters. They’d watched smiles and tears spring to the faces of audience members. They’d moved closer, closer, and closer to them.

And “them” was just a less taboo replacement for an even worse word. “Fans.”

Neither Dan nor Phil quite liked the word “fan” in the context of their audience’s relationship to them. It felt weird, uncomfortable, inauthentic. It felt like Dan and Phil were sat on a pedestal, and the faces of their audience were far, far, away in the nosebleed seats. Their audience didn’t deserve to be there, be put down, and Dan and Phil didn’t deserve to be idolized past the point of their own humanity. 

Dan and Phil wanted to move closer to them. They wanted to find the right distance. They wanted to explore the idea of “them and us.” Of audience and entertainer. Of how close would become too close.

So, that thoughtful night in 2017, Dan said, “We should go on another world tour.”

And Phil--just the same amount buzzed and just the same amount lost in messy thoughts--agreed.

Then there was Interactive Introverts, and it was everything. It was ambitious and entirely different than their last stage show. It was authentic, real, laid on the solid foundations of a theme that Dan and Phil both cared so much about.

Before either of them could blink it was happening. 

~

Dan recounts the messiness of the months before the tour began where he sits in the back of the tour bus.

He blinks.

He must be giving off ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes today, because he has the entire back of the bus to himself. The rest of the crew seem to be either napping or chatting quietly in the front area of the bus as they pass by the endless American pastures outside.

The American leg of the tour has been odd. It’s not stressful flights and cramped cars and booking dozens of hotel rooms, but it is a lot of one environment and one crew for an extended period. Dan loves the crew. In fact, they’re honestly the closest friends he and Phil have right about now. Still, it’s difficult to be around people all day every day in such a confined space. Luckily, they’re all human, so when one of them is giving off fierce ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes the others understand. It’s just Dan’s turn today, he supposes.

Sometimes, most of the time even, Dan doesn’t mind the closet. The doors are glass, and he can pretend they aren’t there. Other times he slams face-first into the glass doors. Today’s one of those days.

It’s the weekend of gay pride back in London. He sees it all across Twitter and Instagram. It makes his chest ache in an odd way.

So, he sits and gazes out the window at the plain countryside. He thinks about the video he failed to finish and all of the mess that had taken up his time this year. He lets himself emit the ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes. He doesn’t really have to energy to speak when he’s using it all to mope instead.

Of course, there is one person who’s immune to Dan’s ‘don’t talk to me’ vibes.

This person collapses against the couch beside him, carrying his pillow as he always does. Dan teases him about security blankets, but he’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t precious. He props his pillow up against Dan’s shoulder before leaning against it and sighing.

Dan looks over at him. “Hello,” he says softly. Dan can speak to Phil. Phil doesn’t drain Dan’s energy the way that others do.

“Mm,” Phil hums in reply. He’s wearing his glasses. “You’re bein’ loud,” he grumbles.

Dan’s lips turn up despite his less than jovial mood. “Shut up,” he says, amused. He’s had that same complaint spoken into silence enough to understand what Phil means. It means something like ‘you’re being too quiet, you’re thinking too much, and it’s noticeable’ in sleepy Phil language. 

“It’s your fault,” Dan teases. “Shouldn’t be listening in on my private thoughts.”

“Oh,” Phil says. “I thought we shared a consciousness.”

“I fucking hope not,” Dan says, lighter. “I don’t know if I want to see the innermost workings of this mind, Phil Lester.” He taps Phil’s forehead to make his point.

“Please,” Phil says, obviously a bit too tired to properly give his all to the banter. “You’d be honored.”

“Mm,” Dan hums, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

“Mhm,” Phil replies, agreeing. “So, since I can’t read your mind, tragically,” he says. “What’re you thinking about?”

Dan shifts a bit on the couch, and Phil whines a bit, resituating himself against Dan.

“We have a hotel tonight, yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Phil answers, raising an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re thinking about, then?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Phil says, grinning.

“Well that is decidedly not what I was thinking about,” Dan says.

“That’s sad for you,” Phil says.

Dan properly giggles this time. “Shut up,” he says again, a bit loud. “I’m just thinking about...us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m just glad we get to be together tonight,” he says.

Phil could reply with a joking comment on their inability to be separated for even the length of a night’s sleep, but he doesn’t. He’s glad they get to be together, too. It’s been quite a few nights without Dan, and Phil knows what he means. It’s not just being together, it’s being alone together.

“Me too,” Phil agrees softly. He glances at the hallway and confirms that no one is within the range of seeing. So, Phil presses a kiss to Dan’s lips and grins a little.

Dan grins a bit as well.

~

Phil assumes too much. He expects nonverbal communication. He expects public secrets and common knowledge of things that haven’t been discussed. 

It’s only gotten worse since he’s been with Dan because Dan is good at unspoken truths. He’s good at communication that dances around a topic without looking it in the face. It’s gotten them in trouble before, certainly, and Dan has figured out when to drop the pretenses. He knows when to look an issue straight-on.

Phil still likes to dance around things. He likes to avoid conflict and confrontation, especially when he or someone else stands to get hurt. He justifies this to himself by assuming that everyone else understands whatever it is that he doesn’t want to explain. He expects mind-readers.

He recognizes these analytic thoughts, as he thinks them. It’s therapy talk, repeating itself. Phil’s fear of confrontation is something that’s often brought up with his therapist. As Phil sits, staring out the window of the tour bus and feeling mildly sick, he misses her. He won’t be able to see his therapist again until they return home, and he’s sure he’ll have endless things to bring up with her.

There’s a funny thing about a fear of confrontation, Phil finds. Recovery consists of confronting the fear of confrontation. While it’s oxymoronic, at least Phil’s done one of the steps.

Confrontation is an easy thing to fear, but Phil can’t help feeling like he has good reason to fear it. He grew up gay. He spent so long actively avoiding confrontation about his sexuality. It feels almost second nature now. He’s not sure he knows how to confront it. He doesn’t want it to be a big deal.

Phil never came out to his parents. He was never into the pretty girls at his school, he never talked about them, and he brought around male friends who would stay the night and leave the pull-out couch bed untouched. It was obvious that Phil was seeing men, and that he had no real intention to see women.

Or so he had thought.

The memory still brings about anxiety, even though his family couldn’t be more accepting these days. He remembers his mum confronting him after it became too obvious. He remembers thinking that it all had been silently acknowledged and that he would never have to talk about it. It was stupid, in hindsight. Obviously, his sexuality would be a big deal to his family, whether he wanted it to be or not.

Phil still falls back into those habits.

Sometimes he’s too careless with Dan. He thinks it’s obvious that they’re in love. He convinces himself that everyone knows, they just don’t talk about it. He wants to kiss Dan when people can see. He wants to book one hotel room with one king-sized bed for both of them and let it slip by without mention.

People like to mention things, though. They like to talk about things.

Phil thinks he and Dan are obvious, and maybe they are. Still, he knows that if he were to kiss Dan square on the mouth in front of their crew, questions would be unavoidable. 

Phil doesn’t really know how to be in the closet, but he knows that he wants to protect this beautiful, perfect, and private thing between him and Dan at all costs.

He stops himself there, turning away from the window. He doesn’t want to think any longer.

“How much further?” he asks, sounding just a bit impatient.

“Just over an hour,” someone replies.

~

Just over an hour later, Dan’s coming up with an excuse for him and Phil to go immediately to the hotel. It’s only one in the afternoon, and there are things to see in this city, but they need to be alone. Alone together. Dan says something about filming a video, and Phil holds back a sigh because they do have to film, and he’d forgotten.

They can film tomorrow. They enjoy filming, anyways. They get an excuse to hang out alone together. And the gaming channel is so easy compared to everything else they want to work on for youtube. The editing's a bitch, but it gives them something to do while traveling these long American roads.

The crew talks with each other about plans, and Dan and Phil slip into the hotel. They check in to separate rooms in the lobby, but they go to the same room with all of their things. Later, they’ll compare rooms and decide which is better to stay the night in. They’ll order room service and laugh and maybe film something. For now, they just need a moment. 

The hotel room’s door closes, they put their things down on the floor, and Dan sighs.

Phil’s not sure exactly what’s bothering Dan, but it makes perfect sense as soon as he says it.

“I want to come out, Phil,” he says, standing by the door of the hotel. He stares inward, blankly. He’s not looking at the room or anything at all. He’s thinking so much that it seems he can do little else.

Phil sighs, walking back to where Dan stands. It’s definitely not an unfamiliar conversation topic between them. It’s much the opposite. Dan had plans to officially come out this year. He has plans to come out, but things keep getting messy and scary and confusing. 

“I know,” Phil says softly. “You will. We will.”

“I know,” Dan says. He’s still not looking at anything, and his eyes are unfocused.

“I mean...we’re not in the closet. Not really,” Phil says, perhaps in an attempt to cheer Dan up. They’ve never been ‘in the closet,’ really. At least, not in a long while. They just keep certain things private. It’s been a long time since either of them have pretended to be someone they aren’t.

Dan sighs. “Phil, this is the closet.”

Phil frowns. “How do you mean?”

Dan shrugs, walking into the room. “Just, like, the whole Dan and Phil ‘brand’ or whatever.” He uses finger quotes around the term ‘brand.’ His voice is tinged with irritation. “Like, this tour, and the last tour, and our YouTube channels. We’ve, like, put ourselves in this, like, glass box. Like, yeah, people know, but they don’t know. And if--and when we come out, all of that...that glass is going to shatter.”

“Is that a good thing?” Phil asks. He gets what Dan means, but his brain is so slow today. He doesn’t want to talk about glass closets and sexuality and how the hell they’re going to navigate their relationship if they keep it in the spotlight. If they talk about that then questions will come up that Phil doesn’t have the ability to answer.

All he wants is to lie next to Dan and be unseen for a little while. There’s the possibility here for a fight, but Phil’s not sure that either of them has the energy.

“It’s just this tour, trying to be authentic, Dan and Phil…” Dan trials off and sniffles, and it catches Phil off guard. He goes to say more, but tears start slipping down his cheeks instead and he looks away from Phil.

“Dan, whoa whoa, hey,” Phil’s voice is suddenly much softer. “Why are you crying?”

Dan shrugs, sitting down on the bed. A dam seems to have broken, and he chokes a bit. “It’s a lot, Phil,” he cries.

“It is,” Phil answers. “But it’s good, isn’t it?”

Dan shrugs again. “I--I don’t know.”

“Oh,” Phil says softly. He stands and kicks off his shoes. He then strips off his jeans and t-shirt. He desperately needs a shower, but it can wait. He kneels down and unzips Dan’s shoes. Dan lets him pull them off and toss them messily aside. As he watches Phil, his tears pick up. Phil tugs his jeans off next, and by the time his t-shirt is gone Dan is properly bawling.

Phil sits beside Dan, both of them stripped of their dirty, uncomfortable, tour bus clothes. He lays back on the bed, and he holds his arms open. Dan reaches up to futilely wipe his eyes and lets go of one more sob before falling into Phil.

Phil wraps his arms around Dan, and they lay there. 

Phil strokes his hand up and down Dan’s shoulder, and Dan buries his face between the duvet and Phil’s shoulder. He cries for a while, saying nothing. Phil just holds him and hushes him softly. 

It is a lot. The tour, their careers, the closet. It’s all quite a lot, and Dan needs to cry about it. Phil’s sure that he will too, once he has the energy.

“Phil,” Dan says quietly. “Sometimes I wish we could just run away together.”

“Yeah?” Phil asks, smiling sadly.

Dan nods. “Mhm. Find a tiny little house somewhere to live in and, just, start over. Just like, buy a fuckin’ cafe in France and live out our lives as old gay baristas.”

Phil giggles softly. “Sounds nice,” he says.

“Doesn’t sound ungrateful?”

“Not to me, but I might be biased.”

Dan smiles a bit at this. They look at each other. Phil reaches to brush away some of the tears that continue to slip down Dan’s cheeks.

“Isn’t it...isn’t it weird that tomorrow night you and I are going to get up on stage and play out this, like, version of us and then we’re going to come back here and be...us?”

“I mean, isn’t that the entire point we’re making here?” Phil asked, smirking.

Dan smiled the slightest bit. “Shut up.”

“Plot twist.” Phil giggles. “Dan blows his own mind.”

Dan grins properly this time, pushing Phil away by the shoulder. “Phil?”

Phil grins, rolling back to his spot just against Dan. “Yeah?”

“Did we just make an entire stage show about the glass closet?”

Phil bites his lip, moving his eyes over Dan’s face. “No,” he says.

Dan grins. “Oh? Okay, good. Was worried there for a sec.”

Phil leans in and kisses Dan on the lips. “You think too much,” he says when he pulls back. “We’re us, you know? No matter how many people are watching. That’s what the show’s about.”

Dan’s eyes flick back up from Phil’s lips to his eyes. “I like us best when we’re alone.”

“I like us wherever we are.”

“Sap.”

“Maybe.”

They have the night to themselves and they make the most of it, even if it means missing the sight-seeing available outside. They end up staying in Dan’s room, ordering room service and getting a little more than tipsy. They mess around a bit, press kisses to hot flesh, and drag it out for as long as they can. The next hotel stay is a while away, and they have to make up for the lost time. When they’re done they fall asleep a bit too early.

Dan wakes up at the annoying hour of two am. Unable to fall back asleep, he grabs his laptop and turns on the lamp. Phil remains fast asleep beside him, and his soft snores are comforting. Dan pulls up a word document entitled: “Basically, I’m Gay.”

Soon, he hopes.

[dabistits]

ok there’s some discussion on that post about mitsuki so i thought i’d just expand on my general thoughts wrt her and all the other characters. because, like, i don’t actually think characters like twice, midnight, aizawa, all might, gran torino, best jeanist (god why are there so many) and SO ON really need to be “called out” or anything. i was more annoyed with the hypocrisy and comparative leniency that male characters like aizawa get when they do slapstick-y things, but if a woman makes a ~problematic~ joke that the author thinks is funny, they get blacklisted to hell and back. anyways

to be clear, i do think these actions like smacking katsuki or pulling on shinsou’s scarf fall within the realm of slapstick comedy. for all that hori can be criticized for, i think he makes it very clear when violence is supposed to matter and when it doesn’t. whether or not violence should be played for laughs, and whether slapstick humor should exist is another discussion, and i think it’s one best reserved for discussing at the real world level, rather than isolating specific characters and deciding whether punching someone for laughs makes them an acceptable character to stan or not.

at any rate, i think hori has made it clear that he doesn’t think aizawa or best jeanist are bullying the students. i think he’s also been fairly clear that he doesn’t intend for that scene in the bakugou household to be read as abuse. and i, personally, am completely fine with accepting this, because once you start going down the rabbit hole of ‘who has done something they need to be called out for?’ you end up with... jirou punching sero out. katsuki shocking kaminari into his whey~ state. all the boys and teachers letting mineta do whatever.

and to be very straight with it, i just... don’t care. i don’t care about scrutinizing every character when they do something for ~comedy.~ aside from mineta, whose entire actual character revolves around harassing the girls, it has no bearing on their normal portrayal. no one continues to express real worry that aizawa is going to hit them or even that midnight is going to be inappropriate. it’s neatly confined into one segment, and then the scene moves on. it’s not meant to seriously color our perception of those characters.

on the other hand, i think it’s the serious stuff which is meant to be taken at face-value that’s much more harmful. like the weird sexualization of the teenaged girls without any joking commentary, the possibly semi-autobiographical projection onto enjizz and the desperate attempts to make readers sympathize with him, the complete lack of acknowledgment towards female abuse victims, the way hori might be navigating marginalization and villainy as correlation. i would much rather talk about those things than how best jeanist was mean to katsuki.

it’s not that people aren’t allowed to be uncomfortable with these characters, to not want to see them or see support of them, etc. it’s not that these conversations aren’t important, because there is comedy that can be dangerous! transphobic and transmisogynistic gags are bad. sexual harassment gags are bad. but is all slapstick bad? or just certain kinds? i can definitely see how it can translate into irl harm, but i’m not inclined to say people have to agree with me or have to treat it as a major pressing issue.

especially since the way we deal with this convo in fandom is really unproductive. we’re picking out individual characters and individual actions to critique, when the problem with slapstick lies with the work as a whole. so why isolate each character from the context (the humor of the series overall) just to pick at specific incidents? why is listing the sins of individual fictional characters more important than just... letting the characters be and actually expanding your critique to the work as a whole?

and i accept that some people will take personal issue with things that those characters have done! esp characters like mitsuki who are particularly fraught! but at some point we’re just going to have to concede that one person’s interpretation and opinion of severity isn’t going to be everyone else’s, and we should probably try to be okay with that. in more ambiguous topics like these, there’s really not going to be an easy right or wrong answer, and the larger picture is lost when you’re trying to convince people that a specific character is Bad for doing something canon did not mean to make serious at all.

[spoopyghostgirl]

Character Sheet for my Greedfall Original Character

Will be a

ConstantinXocXVinbarr

KurtXocXVasco

Character’s full name: Ellowine Marea Della Morte

Reason or meaning of name: Named after her grandfather, Alwyn

Title: Princess of Theleme. Legate of the Theleme.

Character’s nickname: Winne, Ella, Sunflower, Princess, Snake Charmer

Reason for nickname: Winnie + Ella are short for Ellowine. Sunflower for her smiley disposition, Princess because she's a princess. Snake Charmer because she's charming.

Birth date: October 13th

Physical Appearance

Age: 22 years old

How old does he/she appear: 17 years old

Weight: 125 lbs

Height: 5'7

Body build: Slim, muscular legs and arms

Eye color: Gold

Skin tone: Fair

Distinguishing marks: Marking on the left side of her face, like vines

Predominant features: Full lips, large eyes

Hair color: White/Pale Blonde

Type of hair: Long, wavy

Hairstyle: Normally wears it braided, sometimes straight down her back, other times it sits like a crown on top of her head

Voice: She has the kind of voice that can make anyone flush. Jokes about having a "sex worker" voice.

Overall attractiveness: 10/10

Physical disabilities: None

Usual fashion of dress: Wears lots of black, since Theleme seems fond of the color. Lots of frilly dresses in her youth that are slowly replaced by frilly jackets and form fitting pants, better for fighting.

Jewelry or accessories: Ears are double pierced with opals, a ruby pendent gold necklace, and two rings, one opal, one ruby.

Personality

Good personality traits:

-Friendly

-Considerate

-Funny

Bad personality traits:

-shameless flirt

-arrogant

- short tempered

Mood character is most often in: Content

Sense of humor: Dry but is quick to laugh and make jokes

Character’s greatest joy in life: Fighting or Magic

Character’s greatest fear: Losing her family/deep water

Why?

She is royalty, it's easy to see why she'd be worried about assassination attempts.

Almost drowned as a child, hasn't recovered for the experience.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?

- her older brothers death. If he died she would become heir to the throne and be expected to rule Theleme.

Character is most at ease when:

- she is dancing

- practicing magic

- reading

Most ill at ease when:

- dealing with her own family

Enraged when:

- people she likes are insulted

- people comment on her mark + compare it to the malichor

Depressed or sad when:

- her family fights

Priorities:

- learning and expanding her knowledge of magic

- expanding her familial agenda

- being happy

Life philosophy:

- Kind of a mash up of do what makes you happy and do whatever will expand your horizons

If granted one wish, it would be:

- to be free of Theleme and her familial obligations

Why?

- she's a magical prodigy and science lover. She feels held back because of how backwards her country is. Wishes her family would do more about it but her father is to her a figure head of arrogance and ignorance.

Character’s soft spot:

- Her brother

- Constantin d'Orsay

- Demetrius De Sardet

Is this soft spot obvious to others?

- She gives out nicknames to just about everyone and has a perfect political mask, so she likes to think not but... if you spend enough time with her, it becomes more and more obvious.

Greatest strength:

- Magic, short swords and daggers

Greatest vulnerability or weakness:

- Physical strength

Biggest regret:

- Finding out she was taken from her family.

Minor regret:

- Treating her mother and brother poorly after she found out she was kidnapped.

Biggest accomplishment:

- Being able to convince her father to allow her to stay in Congregation territory to learn magic from a member of the bridge alliance.

Minor accomplishment:

- Making those she cares for smile.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about:

- none that she can recall

Character’s darkest secret:

- Being adopted. Her father trying to force her to marry her older brother and then Constantin. Sleeping with Vasco and Kurt at the same time and neither of them knowing.

Does anyone else know?

- She confines in De Sardet and Constantin about being adopted and her fathers marriage plans.

- Siora knows shes sleeping with both Kurt and Vasco though Ellowine doesnt tell her.

Goals

Drives and motivations:

- Escaping her father's grasp and becoming her own person. Protecting those she loves

Immediate goals:

- Becoming a renowned mage

Long term goals:

- *possibly* becoming Cardinal on the island and guiding those on the island into a more progressive and better future

Past

Hometown:

Type of childhood: She is the "spare" child. She was raised to be the perfect diplomat and possible assassin and body guard.

Pets: A cat before they started killing cats thinking they spread the malichor.

First memory: Walking on a ship towards a man with gold eyes and a kind smile.

Most important childhood memory: Discovering her magical abilities

Why: It changed everything for her.

Childhood hero: Bartholomew Della Cruz, a man who broke from Theleme and became a successful Evoker and Alchemist in the Bridge Alliance.

Dream job: Unsure.

Religion: Technically, she was raised to believe in the enlightened one but she has always struggled with it, finding strength in magic, something the man seemed to be against.

Present (Game Start)

Current location: Teer Fradee, Saint Matheus

Currently living with: Within Castle with her aunt, the Cardinal. Has apartment separately that she part time lives in.

Pets: A raven she uses for sending messages

Religion: None

Occupation: Legate/Diplomat

Family

Mother: Lucille Marea Della Morte

Relationship with her: Good. Her mother is her dearest friend. Has given Ellowine the freedom to be the person she wants to be.

Father: Alexia Alwyn Della Morte

Relationship with him: Bad. Is not above using Ellowine for political gain. Had Ellowine trained as an assassin "just in case".

Brother: Nicolai Alexia Della Morte

Relationship with him: Good. They're best friends. After the reveal that they aren't actually siblings their relationship became... complicated. Ellowine quickly nipped this in the bud when it came to light that her "father" was willing to force them to wed.

Other important family members:

Grandfather: Alwyn Nicolai Della Morte

Relationship: They had a great relationship. Despite his conniving and... questionable methods, he loved Ellowine greatly and did what he could to make sure her childhood was at least enjoyable.

Favorites

Color: Red

Least favorite color: Brown

Food: Any sweet fruit, dried meats, soup

Literature: Softy for poetry and anything related to magic or history

Form of entertainment: A tie between fighting and dancing

Most prized possession: Opal ring that was her grandmothers. Her grandfather gave it to her for her 13th birthday.

Habits

Hobbies: Reading, painting, singing

Plays a musical instrument: Piano

How he/she would spend a rainy day: Reading in a library, practicing her magic, eating sweets and drinking hot drinks with her favorite people

Spending habits: Will treat herself and others because her family is very wealthy.

Smokes: Doesn't

Drinks: Likes spiced wine

What does he/she do too much of: Pick fights. Ellowine has a short temper.

What does he/she do too little of: Genuinely smile. Ellowine is a rather serious person. Her smiles are perfect, given her years of practice.

Extremely skilled at: Mage Craft, combat, dancing

Extremely unskilled at: Swimming, cooking

A picture that kind of looks like Ellowine(?)

[langxue]

Avengers Endgame Initial Thoughts

Okay. I have some Thoughts about Endgame, most of them fairly critical. Also highly subjective. So here goes. Spoilers abound, for Endgame and other MCU content.

1. OMFG they completely wasted Captain Marvel.* In her own movie, Carol is a fairly laid back, adaptable, competent, and Silly person. She has a wonderfully casual charm and sarcasm that’s really fun to watch. She’s also a powerhouse, and by the end she definitely knows it. (Like seriously, she destroyed multiple of Ronan’s ships in under a minute. In GotG, it took a whole fleet just to slow one of them down, plus a team on the inside to blow it up. And then Carol’s just like “nah, you’re done now.”) And then you hit Endgame. And we have a stoic, closed off Captain Marvel, who shows up, talks a lot about how awesome she is, and then spends fucking 80% of the movie on a shelf on the justification that she’s helping other worlds that are also in trouble. Which is a fine justification to keep her away for some of the setup. But the heroes’ main plan is time travel. Which means it’s not time sensitive, and they keep making a big deal about only having one shot. Why, in that case, wouldn’t you wait until you could get Carol on your team?? Thor is a psychological mess. Keep him on the bench and bring in Carol. OR have her on hand to use the gauntlet after all the stones are collected. But no, they just went with “eh, we’re not sure how to contact her, so we’ll just skip over that option entirely.” So they wasted her character as a character with minimal interactions with the others, and zero of those interactions actually being in character (except maaaybe with Peter at the end, but that very much felt like two actors trying very hard with very little to work with), and then also wasted her as far as plot impact, opting for a heroic re-entrance most of the way through the movie.

2. The time travel felt extremely poorly explained, which is really bad when your plot completely hinges on it, and is especially bad if you’re gonna rag on other movies with time travel. Back to the Future is paradoxical nonsense, but it’s self-consistent paradoxical nonsense. Endgame was some kind of multiverse with zero clear understanding of how different timelines/realities could and could not interact with each other. I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of the possibilities and whether there actually is an internal logic, but at the very least, while watching the movie, it entirely felt like they were doing whatever they wanted to suit the plot. Which is a bad sign when dealing with time travel. (My general approach to time travel is that you either have to completely handwave it or completely explain it. And that explanation doesn’t have to be an info dump! It can just be apparent in the story itself, such as with Time-Turners. Though I personally don’t mind time travel info dump tbh.)

3. Relatedly, the secret to time travel is to model an inverted Möbius strip and get the eigenvector of that one particle there. I don’t think I’ve been that annoyed but technobabble in a long time. That’s math word salad, as far as I can tell (though I’m admittedly not a mathematician. If any mathematicians can clarify how this makes any sense, I’d appreciate it, but in the mean time, I’m going to assume it’s garbled nonsense.)

4. Still on time travel but I’m having one hell of a time figuring out Steve’s ending. Like, how can he do that within the confines of the time travel mechanics? Why wouldn’t he come back and spend that time with Bucky?? Since, you know, they’ve like barely spoken being reunited?? For Pete’s sake, don’t set up their bond like that, spend two full movies on the turmoil cause by Bucky’s return, and then just fucking drop the plot line on the floor because you wanted to stick Steve back with Peggy. What in the fuck.

5. IM. SO. MAD. ABOUT. GAMORA. (And also Natasha, though that’s a slightly different anger.) GAMORA’S DEATH WAS THE MOST BS THING IN INFINITY WAR AND WAS ALSO THE DEATH I WAS MOST CONCERNED THEY WOULDN’T CORRECT. AND GUESS WHAT. THEY DIDN’T. SHE’S STILL DEAD.** The soulstone mechanic can get Fucked, because Thanos should never have been able to get it like that (and relatedly, should Hawkeye have gotten it, since Natasha threw herself, rather than being sacrificed? I’m undecided, but mad either way).

6. Is Loki still dead? Was he ever dead? We just don’t know. If he is dead, that was an amazingly dumb end and I object. If he’s not dead, that is a dumb cliffhanger and I object.

7. I don’t love Thor + Guardians’ dynamic? It feels very off, and I can’t tell if that’s just because it’s Avengers and therefore all the characters have gotten slightly flattened or if it’s just an unappealing dynamic to me. But we already had Quill vs Rocket leadership tension. I don’t was more of that but with Thor. That’s dumb. I’m hoping that it gets more nuance/resolution going forward, but I’m not holding my breath.

8. Relatedly, why would you put Valkyrie in charge of Anything but a battle plan? Nothing I’ve seen of her makes me think she’s well suited to general leadership, and I think she’d chafe under it just as much as Thor does. She’s not the Responsible One to take things over so Thor can go have another finding himself adventure. Ffs.

9. Probably no one’s fault because actor contracts are complicated, but I’m still salty about Lady Sif being 100% absent and unacknowledged for this whole thing. Largely because I haven’t gotten to see her interact with Valkyrie OR Carol and I feel cheated.

10. Some quick minor things before I go on a big rant. It bothered me that Thor’s depression and poor coping was just a joke, basically just “Oh look he’s fat and scared now, isn’t that funny?” I’m so tired of Tony vs. Steve, and I hate that they waited until the last fucking movie to sort of kind of resolve it. You don’t get to pull on found family heartstrings and tropes when you’ve done such a bullshit job of actually showing us a family. You’ve had 20-odd movies to do so. Do better.

11. Okay. I like battle scenes. They’re fun! They’re dramatic! If done correctly, they can give a very tangible sense of odds and stakes. But. Not every movie with high stakes needs a big final battle.

Okay, to clarify a bit, I’m specifically referring to army vs. army battle scenes here. Big punch outs between titans, or scrambling to minimize damage from a disaster are different, and have their own applications and pitfalls. All clear? Great.

Battles, with two armies facing off against each other in fronts, look cool, but fundamentally make no sense in the context of Endgame. Battle lines exist so that you have not very many people actively fighting at once, and so that you can protect the people next to them. When the frontline gets tired, they rotate back and others take over. Battles are not the same thing as skirmishes and they are not mass melees. If a battle turns into a mass melee, something has gone very wrong and you should in all likelihood pull back immediately to regroup.

All of this breaks down when you have an opponent who can break up or ignore your battle lines. Historically, this was artillery and guns—things that forced battles into a cover-based issue. In superhero movies, it’s... pretty much every character of note.

Thor’s lightning —> broken battle line

Black Panther’s suit discharge —> broken battle line

Falcon attacking from above —> pointless battle line

Wanda or Carol doing... anything —> pointless battle line

All of Thanos’ many flying troops —> pointless battle line

Thanos’ warship overhead —> what are you doing pls stop this

All of which is to say that traditional battle tactics don’t apply to this conflict. But the battle we’re shown doesn’t reflect that, and it feels very... weird as a result. Where who’s winning is entirely arbitrary, rather than any kind of steady build.

This tends to lead to a very episodic battle, where you show off individual characters or small groups of characters fighting. Which is fine, though contributes to battle progress being unclear. But there’s a temptation then to give everyone equal levels of badassery in their vignettes, and I think that’s a mistake. The avengers et all are a complementary group. They have members suited to a battle field and members that aren’t. That isn’t to say that Hawkeye and Black Widow can’t hold their own, but their skill sets aren’t specialized for something like this, and so any attempt to make them seem equal in this way is going to either fall flat or cheapen the battle suited heroes’ specialty.

And this tendency to level the field of badassery can also lead to situations where Okoye is backing up Carol for a charge, and I just.... gah. I love Okoye. So much. Carol does not need her help to rush a group of enemies. Carol doesn’t need help from any of the women who showed up behind her except for maybe Scarlet Witch. I get what they were going for. I get that it was supposed to be a Girl PowerTM moment. It wasn’t. It was dumb. It was so very much the wrong time for that moment, because this was not a context where Carol needed help. She just flew through a spaceship. She can fly through some enemies no problem. And it’s probably easier if she’s not worried about her allies getting caught in the blast. And then they had to make the backup team useful, so they made Carol struggle in a moment where she just shouldn’t have. You don’t get points for Girl PowerTM if you have to de-power one of your women just to make it make sense. Give me more scenes with Gamora and Nebula helping each other through Thanos’ abuse. Give me scenes with Carol and Okoye bonding over putting up with impractical people. Don’t give me this battle scene bullshit, I don’t want it.

11. I remain pissed off that there are no actually articulated arguments against Thanos’ fucking stupid plan. What the actual fuck, this is not that hard. 

Okay. Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, some things I actually really liked.

1. Steve wielding Mjolnir was fucking amazing and I’m so pleased.

2. Any time Scott was on screen.

3. Peter Parker is a precious child and he needs to be protected.

4. I actually really like the set up for the time travel nonsense, and I liked that they seemed to be doing something other than a mass melee battle. That the group was divided into manageable teams, and sent on different kinds of missions that required them to be clever and play to their different strengths and help each other through. And then they shoved in a giant battle anyway, because fuck you that’s why.

5. I can appreciate what they were trying to do in giving all of the non-returning Avengers decent send-offs, even if I didn’t like some of those conclusions.

6. There were some genuinely funny moments, but I’m struggling to recall them right now.

7. Oh wait! “It’s an earthquake in the middle of the ocean. We handle it by not handling it.” That one was great.

Okay, that’s all for now. I might have more later, once I’ve picked apart the time travel a bit more and dined some processing.

I think it’s also worth noting that like... ensemble movies with a cast this big are *hard.* character are going to end up feeling confined, and there’s less time to grow because there’s just less time per character. But I think we could’ve had better, and I think if they focused more on group growth in the group movies instead of just drama, then they would’ve been in a better place and had a better story.

It’s probably also worth noting that I really liked Thor: Ragnarok, really like Captain Marvel and really didn’t like Infinity War. So I sort of went into Endgame feeling like it had to make up for Infinity War and live up to the higher at from the recent solo movies. And I really wanted to like it. I really wanted them to pull it off. But those are high and fairly specific standards, and so they fell quite short.

*This should be taken with a grain of salt, because I’d been dreading Endgame as an obligation to watch, and the Captain Marvel movie was the only thing that sparked my interest again. And then Endgame massively dropped the ball as far as I’m concerned.

** there was some stuff at the very end that makes me wonder if there’re plans to still bring her back in a later movie. But it doesn’t change me call bullshit on everything that Infinity War/Endgame has done to her.

[thatonekawaiigirl13]

Who Said Death Was Easy? [Death Note] Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty: Ally

Keiko’s POV:

H-huh? What’s this? Another businessman is dead? Keiko let out a small gasp as she looked at the profiles of Kira’s latest victims, it could just be a coincidence, seeing as they aren’t of heart attacks...but at this point, is it really? In addition to the usual criminals, a lot of prominent businessmen have been dropping dead recently.

“Light-kun,” the girl called out, “you should come take a look at this.”

I might still be mad at you, but I’m less upset with you than a certain detective...

“Only calling me over, huh? Are you still upset with Ryuzaki-san because of what happened?” Light questioned as he padded over, a certain raven haired detective trailing along slowly behind him.

That’s really none of your business, Light, but yes. I suppose I am still upset. At first, I was okay with my crush on L being unrequited, but after what happened that night…when he kissed me back…he truly made me think, even if for a moment, that he cared about me. He knows it, too, otherwise why would he have done that to me during the double date? He was milking how I felt about him for his own personal enjoyment. At this point, it’s clear he knows all too well that I like him.

Keiko knew that she was being difficult, but she just couldn’t bring herself to talk to the detective, not since the whole double date fiasco. It would be way too embarrassing. In fact, Keiko hadn’t directly spoken to L since she had said those three little words, ‘I hate you’. However, Keiko knew she didn’t actually hate him, not a single bit. She was painfully aware that L probably knew that fact just as well as she did.

L might have complimented my investigative skills and agreed to do that double date, but it’s clear that he doesn’t return my feelings. I knew his personality from the beginning, I knew he’s not the type to care for others… but now, for some reason, Keiko swallowed hard, attempting to mask her emotions, that fact really hurts me. I know it’s impossible, but I want him to like me. Does this mean I’ve moved on from Light?

“I’m sorry to say this, but considering the fact that we’re chained together, Ryuzaki-san and I are quite literally a package deal,” Light joked, breaking Keiko away from her thoughts. She supposed that he was trying to make her crack a smile, but at the moment, smiling was the last thing she felt like doing.

Sorry, Light, but anyway...speaking of L…,Keiko could sense his gaze on her back, but she didn’t dare look behind her to meet his eyes. She made sure she focused only on her laptop’s screen as Light and L sat down next to her.

“Look at these victims,” she pointed at the screen, not even bothering to respond to Light’s comment. “It can’t just be a coincidence, can it?”

Upon seeing that Keiko wasn’t going to answer him, Light let out a sigh. “Alright, fine. Let me take a look.”

Light scooted closer to Keiko, peering over at her computer screen. He scrolled down the page, carefully looking everything over.

We haven’t been this close together since...since his confession the day he got out of confinement…if he feels awkward around me, he isn’t showing it. It’s funny…he finally told me that he loved me, and yet, now the only person I can think about it L…who doesn’t feel anything for me.

“You know,” Light started, “I was just looking at the same thing. In my opinion, it’s definitely not a coincidence. All of them were CEOs whose companies were leaders in their respective industries. In just over a month, they’ve all died. I was also looking at the stock market, and as expected, there’s been a general downturn for those companies...with the exception of Yotsuba. In other words, their deaths are beneficial for the Yotsuba group. Looking back, there have been a few other similar incidents recently.”

“If that’s the case…” Keiko started, “then right now, Kira’s supporting the Yotsuba group.”

“Exactly,” Light nodded, turning towards the detective. “What are your thoughts on this, Ryuzaki-san?”

“Hmm, that could be the case.” Keiko heard L say. “However, if what you’re saying is true, then we can only assume that punishing criminals is not this Kira’s real intention. Punishing criminals is merely a diversion for this Kira. It obscures the fact that he’s killing people for the benefit of the company.”

Wait a moment… ‘this Kira’?

“You mean to say that you think this is a different Kira from the previous two?” Keiko blurted out before she could stop herself. She covered her mouth, feeling the detective’s gaze on her once again.

Whoops...I guess I finally broke my silent treatment. Though, I suppose the case is far more important than my own personal dignity…but still, he knows how I feel about him, and he took advantage of that...and I yelled at him...it’s embarrassing. He knows just how much he affects me. He knows just how hopeless I am. There goes my pride.

“Yes,” L said after a moment. If he was taken aback by Keiko finally talking to him again, he didn’t show it.

Was he just waiting for me to talk to him again? He better not think he’s getting off easy. If I ever get the chance to talk to him alone again, he’d better be prepared.

“All of this time, I suspected that Light Yagami was Kira and Misa Amane the Second Kira, the entire investigation hinged on those two facts. Up until Light’s confinement, all of the evidence pointed to them. Even though criminals began dying soon after Light was confined, I don’t think it was a coincidence that, at least for a little while, the murders stopped. This suggests that, at that time, my theory about Light Yagami was correct. Even though he’s technically in the gray right now, I’m still suspicious, hence the handcuffs. However, like you noted, there’s been a recent shift of Kira’s killing patterns, which pokes another hole into my theory that Light is Kira. But, I do not think that my deductions that Light and Misa were both Kira before are entirely wrong. I believe that it’s possible they were Kira, but somehow they’ve lost their powers, and their memories, and that Kira’s powers have been transferred to someone else within the Yotsuba Group. That, to me, makes the most sense. We also know that Kira can control people. If that’s the case, then he’s stopped controlling Light and Misa, and is controlling someone involved with the Yotsuba Group.”

Keiko glanced over at the detective, her face turning a little pink at their sudden eye contact, he still stands by the fact that Light Yagami and Misa Amane were Kira and the Second Kira...even I have to admit, that makes sense.

“So essentially,” Keiko started, attempting to ignore the blush on her face and the way L was looking at her, “you’re saying you think it’s possible that Kira’s power can pass between people?”

L nodded, the corners of his lips curving slightly upwards. “Yes, I believe so. Therefore, if evidence is pointing to someone in the Yotsuba Group, we should find them and bring them into custody as soon as possible before they lose their memories and have their power transferred to someone else. Then we can find out once and for all how Kira kills once and for all. And, during the process, maybe we can see whether or not Light or Misa regain memories of being Kira. ”  

“It sounds like, in the end, you won’t be satisfied unless I am or was Kira at some point,” Light grumbled.

“When you put it that way, I suppose you’re right, in a way,” L responded. “After all, all the evidence was against you...up until now. I admit it, I wanted you to be Kira.”

Light’s face twisted in annoyance, but before he could respond, the intercom buzzed. The rest of the task force had finally arrived.

Saved by the bell, Keiko thought.

“Did we miss anything?” Matsuda loudly questioned as soon as he entered the room. The others, Aizawa, Mogi, and Chief Yagami, followed behind him. Keiko noted that the chief looked especially worn out.

“As a matter of fact, you did,” L responded, “it looks like we might have something here. A new direction for the investigation…”

“Oh geez,” Aizawa commented once L was done with his explanation concerning the Yotsuba Group. “So you suspect that Kira is someone connected with Yotsuba?”

“Yes,” L said simply. “That’s what makes the most sense. If we investigate Yotsuba Group, we should be able to find Kira.”

Oh hey!” Matsuda grinned from ear to ear, “that means we have a lead again! That’s wonderful. Well done, you three.”

“I’m afraid I have some not-so-wonderful news,” the chief announced, a grim expression on his face.

“What’s going on?” Light shot his father a concerned glance.

“This won’t be easy to say,” the chief replied. He loosened his tie, taking a seat on one of the couches in the room. “Well…before we came here, Mogi and I spoke with the deputy director. It seems like this Kira’s offered bribes to a number of politicians. Kira said as long as the police don’t chase him, he won’t lay a hand on any politician in power. After hearing this, the police caved in to Kira.”

W-what?! Caved in to Kira?! Keiko’s eyes widened at the Chief’s statement. She heard both Light and Matsuda let out gasps beside her. The only one in the room who did not appear to be surprised, however, was L.

The chief continued on, “Mogi and I have already made up our minds...but Aizawa, Matsuda, if you two wish to continue working this case, you’ll have to hand in your letters of resignation to the NPA. Mogi and I have already done this. Therefore, like it or not, we cannot pursue Kira as members of the police force anymore. They made that quite clear. If you continue to work with L, you will be fired.”

“What?!” Aizawa had a pained expression on his face, “chief-”

Light’s father cut him off, “in a few more hours, I will no longer be your chief. However, I know that everyone has different circumstances, so please, think it over carefully.”

“That’s true,” Matsuda commented, “especially if you have a family to support.”

Keiko peered over at Aizawa, thinking about his young daughter he’d mentioned before. It looked like he was thinking about her, too. His eyes were full of both sadness and distress, his mouth a thin line.

“If you want my opinion,” L’s voice broke through the sudden silence, “you’d be better off as police officers. I was alone when I started this case, and although I’m grateful to each and every one of you for sticking with me this far, I know I can do this by myself.”

At this, Keiko’s eyebrows furrowed. By himself?! What is this attitude all of the sudden? Where is this coming from? Surely he can’t be serious...if that’s true, then does he see the rest of us as worthless? Does that mean he wasn’t serious when he complimented my investigative skills? No, that can’t be it...it has to be a bluff of some sort, right?

“Ryuzaki-san,” Light rattled the chains connecting him to the detective, “did you forget about our current situation? Anyway, as long as I’m alive, you won’t be working alone. You have my word on that. I’m sure Keiko-chan feels the same way. Right?”

Keiko nodded, meeting L’s eyes with a determined look on her face, “I won’t stop until we catch Kira.”

Even though you confuse and  frustrate me to no end, I’m determined to work alongside you and see this case out until the end. I have to prove my worth as a detective!

“Hmm,” L said after a moment. “I suppose that’s right. I guess I’ll have the two of them working alongside me until I catch Kira. So I won’t be alone after all. However, like I said, I think the rest of you should remain as police officers.”

“But when you first contacted us, you said you needed the help of the police!” The chief blurted out.

“That’s because the police as an organization didn’t bow down to Kira. Besides, with all due respect, I don’t think the help of two or three civilians can be compared to the police as an organization. Anway, the police have made their position clear; they no longer want to catch Kira. So let’s leave it at that.”

“I suppose what you’re saying makes sense. If we are no longer police officers, we won’t be of as much use to you. However,” Soichiro’s voice raised slightly, “we are all personally involved in this. All of us have risked our lives to catch Kira. Therefore, we should have the right to decide whether to stay here or remain as police officers!”

“You have a point. Then by all means, decide what you want to do.”

“But chief,” Aizawa interjected, “if you quit the police force, you’ll be unemployed! Even if we catch Kira, what are you going to do afterwards?”

“Afterwards, huh?” The chief crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face, “I haven’t quite thought about that...but after we catch Kira, I guess it’ll be time to dust off my resume.”

“Count me in!” Matsuda pumped a fist in the air. “I’m also going to quit the police and chase after Kira! Besides, I still have to do my job as Misa-Misa’s manager! If I remained as a police officer, I’d feel like a loser!”

“You should think before you open your mouth, Matsuda-san,” the chief commented.

Keiko watched as an embarrassed Matsuda turned towards Aizawa and stuttered out an apology.

“Is there any way I could keep my job and help you in my spare time?” Aizawa questioned, pointedly ignoring Matsuda’s apology. Everyone in the roomed looked at L, awaiting his response.

“There isn’t…if you remain as a police officer, then please don’t come back here.”

Aizawa was livid. “But you know I won’t leak any information!”

“That may be true...but I won’t be sharing any information,” L coolly replied, causing Aizawa to gasp. “You are free to pursue Kira on your own, or quit your job and continue to search for Kira with us...but I don’t think it’s fair to your family to burden them by giving up your livelihood just to continue with this case. I can’t see how that’s a good idea.”

“It’s as Ryuzaki-san says,” Soichiro commented, “anyway, no one will blame you if you quit now.”

“But chief,” Aizawa swallowed hard. “You have a family, too.”

“That’s true, but our situations are quite different, Aizawa-san.”

“Dammit!” Aizawa cried out in despair. “That’s not fair! I want to stay here! I was prepared to die at any time! Anyway, if I quit now, what kind of friend would I be to Ukita?! I became a detective so I could catch the bad guys, not run away!”

“Ryuzaki-san,” a new voice filled the room. Keiko glanced at the computer monitors, displaying the gothic ‘W’ on the screen.

It’s Watari...he rarely ever gets directly involved with what’s going on...

“Early on in the investigation, you specifically told me that if a Task Force member were to lose their job, I should make preparations to ensure that their family’s financial future was secure. If you recall, a trust fund was set aside for that purpose...I’m a little curious as to why you’re withholding this information.”

What?! He was already prepared for this?! What in the world is going on? Perhaps...was L just testing him? Was this all just a test to see how loyal he’d be to the Task Force? If so, that’s just cruel…but it makes the most sense. Keiko bit her lip, besides, being cruel isn’t new to him...just look at how he teased me during the double date.

“This is not the time or the place to disclose this information,” L commented, earning him an apology from Watari.

“Wait a second, so all this time we had nothing to worry about?” Matsuda gasped. He turned towards Aizawa, “isn’t that great news?!”

Aizawa balled his fists at this new information. If he had been upset before, he was full on angry now, “Ryuzaki-san, I assume this means you wanted to see how committed I was to the Task Force?”

“I’m sure it’s not like that, Aizawa-san,” the chief replied. “Ryuzaki-san just isn’t the type to say things directly. You should know that by now.”

“No, he’s right,” L’s voice cut through the room. “I was testing him. You see, Aizawa-san, I wanted to see which one you would choose.”

No way! That means...he really was just testing him!

“Ryuzaki-san,” the chief’s voice was soft.

“Fine then!” Aizawa bellowed out. “If I wasn’t sure before, I am now!”

Despite protests from the chief and Matsuda, Aizawa continued on, “let’s face it, I wasn’t able to decide right away like you guys. In fact, I was leaning towards going back to the police.”

“Aizawa,” Matsuda looked hurt, “please don’t be so stubborn.”

“No! I quit!” Aizawa’s voice was hard. “It’s become clear to me. I hate Ryuzaki-san!”

Well, Keiko thought to herself, that’s certainly not the first time he’s heard that statement directed towards him recently…I can’t say I blame Aizawa for leaving. He will be missed around here, though.

“I hate Ryuzaki-san!” Aizawa repeated, stomping towards the exit. “I hate him and I hate his way of doing things! That’s it! I’m outta here!”

“That’s too bad,” L said quietly, “because I enjoyed working with you, Aizawa-san. Thank you very much for all of your hard work.”

Just like that, the number of people in the Task Force shrank.

/timeskip/

“I just found another!” Light called out, “a general manager of a bank that happens to be one of Yostuba’s biggest competitors. On September 7th he slipped on the steps of his home and died.”

“September 7th…” the chief mused, shuffling some of his papers around. “That was a Friday, wasn’t it? After going over this again, I noticed that all the deaths that are beneficial to Yotsuba appear to be concentrated around the weekend...with the first few victims, the time of death appears to be random, but more recently, they all seem to take place between Friday night and Saturday afternoon.”

“That’s some amazing work, chief!” Matsuda cheered, offering Light’s father a thumbs up.

“I told you, Matsuda-san, I’m no longer the chief.”

“No, you’ll always be the chief to me,” the young policeman replied.

So, all of the dirty work is done on the weekend, eh? How interesting…

“That’s a really important clue...nice work, Yagami-san,” Keiko commented.

“Thank you,” the chief replied. He let out a small chuckle, “I can’t let myself fall behind. After all, I don’t want to be dead weight.”

“Huh, dead weight…?” Matsuda questioned. He turned towards Soichiro, “you’re not dead weight.”

“Is Kira truly someone from the Yotsuba Group?” L mused, breaking up the conversation, “or is Kira simply using Yotsuba? I haven’t figured that out yet, but let’s investigate this with the assumption that this is Kira’s doing. As I said before, we should definitely focus on the Yotsuba Group.”

“I guess I’m just in time, then,” Mogi announced, stepping into the room. A big stack of papers was in his hands that he set down in front of the raven haired detective. “I’ve compiled a list of all the domestic employees in the Yotsuba Group.”

“Thank you very much. This will be extremely useful.” L flipped through the first couple pages in the stack.

Light turned towards Mogi, “I’m surprised you compiled the list so quickly.”

“Mogi’s been a hard worker from the beginning,” L commented.

“Ryuzaki-san!” Matsuda jumped up from his seat. “Is there anything I can do besides being a manager?”

“You want to be useful?” the detective questioned, glancing up from his papers at the young policeman.

“Yes!”

Keiko had a feeling that, whatever L’s next words were, they wouldn’t be good.

This can’t end well...

“Then,” L started, looking back down at the stack of papers in front of him, “could you please get me another cup of coffee?”

“W-what?” Matsuda stuttered out.

I totally called it. Keiko let out a sigh, earning her a glance from the detective, who offered her a mischievous smirk, what the…? What now?

“And could you get some coffee for our guests over there, too, please?” L gestured towards the couches where two unfamiliar people were sitting. There was a man and a woman, both with blonde hair.

Matsuda let out a gasp,“what? Who are they? When did they get in?”

“Those are the newest members of the Task Force,” L said simply.

“I’m Aiber,” the man said, waving his hand up in the air. “I’m a conman. How’s it goin’?”

“I’m Wedy,” the second one, the woman, announced, lighting a cigarette. “I’m a thief by trade.”

“A con man and a thief?!” the chief demanded, looking appalled.

“Yes. Aiber is a lifelong con man. He has unparalleled social skills that allow him to befriend and gain the trust of any target. We’ll use him for infiltrative investigations. Wedy is a thief who can crack any lock, safe, or security system. As proof, she entered without any of us noticing or setting off any alarm.”

“You expect us to work with criminals?” the chief was aghast.

“Yes, that is correct. However, these two have never been caught. So it’s unlikely that they will be killed off by Kira. Think of them as pros of the underworld.”

Pros of the underworld, eh? I never imagined we’d be working with criminals, but I suppose, given this case, it’s something that has to be done.

“I understand, Ryuzaki-san,” Light commented, “to investigate Yotsuba, we need people like them. Let’s all work together to solve this case as soon as possible!”

Sounds much easier said than done…

[douxreviews]

The LEGO Movie (2014) Review

Batman: "Relax, everybody. I'm here."

Whether you're a fan of animation, LEGOS, or movies in general, I strongly recommend this one. It's pretty special. (This review will be spoiler free)

Lets start with the basics. The animation is very impressive. It feels like how I always imagined LEGOS moving and interacting. Much like the wonderful (mostly) video games based on Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Batman, the smooth and seamless way the little plastic blocks come to life is rather remarkable. Add to that the level of loving detail, where small smudges and chips in the plastic can be seen, along with how everything is in LEGO, from the food to the explosions. It's so layered, and practically every scene has at least one little cookie for the audience to find.

As for the plot, it was a fairly basic guy on a quest framework, but it ended up being so much more than that. What really impressed me was how much time was spent building up characters. Funny that a glorified toy commercial had emotional range and character depth. I mean I actually cared about each character, even the ridiculous ones. Then there's Batman, yes Batman. He's a supporting character, but he almost steals the show. He's funny, and awesome, and just about perfect. He even sings. He wasn't the only good character, far from it. He's just the one that's easy to talk about without spoilers.

All that characterization was backed up by some pretty snappy and witty dialogue, which was performed by some really great voice talent (Will Arnett, Elizabeth Banks, Alison Brie, Will Ferrell, Liam Neeson, Chris Pratt, and of course Morgan Freeman, as well as a bunch of small parts and cameos). Sure some of the jokes fell a bit flat for me, but I heard some of the kids in the audience laughing, so maybe those jokes weren't aimed at me.

Only, those aren't the only reasons why this movie is so good. I think quite simply the people behind the scenes got it. They got what it's like for a kid to play with LEGOS, from the carefully designed sets to the wild flights of imagination where a hybrid shark spaceship becomes a reality. Yet I never found it to be pandering to the audience, either. It was accessible to all ages, and is one of those kid movies where the adults will get something out of it, too.

I had absolutely no expectations going into this, and I loved it. Perhaps it's because I played with LEGOS as a kid (and a bit still as an adult). And I fully admit that my first impulse after watching this was to dig out my box of dusty plastic bricks and build something. The thing that really strikes me, though, as I think about The LEGO Movie, is how subversive it is. It throws out some pretty heavy themes, and doesn't shy away from poking fun at itself.

The beauty in a movie like this is that it is only limited by the imagination of its creators. Thankfully, the writers and directors of this movie had that in spades. They very clearly thought about a story that functioned within the confines of this particular product and made it work. It didn't even occur to me until halfway through that it was basically one long advertisement for LEGOS. Except at the same time it was also about joy and the innocence of childhood and the search for what makes us special. I can't say that about a lot of films. Oh, and Batman was awesome... did I say that already?

Quotes:

Emmet: "Could you make one of these in orange?" Batman: "I only work in black. And sometimes, very, very dark gray."

Green Lantern: "Don't worry, Superman. I'll get you out of there." Superman: "No, don't..." Green Lantern: "Oh my gosh, my hands are stuck. My legs are stuck as well." Superman: "I super hate you."

I guess it almost goes without saying, but this is officially the first high point of the year for me (movie wise). I hope the rest of the year follows this example.

4 out of 4 LEGO Bricks

J.D. Balthazar is a confirmed nerd who loves most things sci-fi or fantasy-related.

[homestuckexamination]

Homestuck: Execution of a Masterpiece - Part 1 - What’s in a Game?

Whenever people ask a Homestuck fan what Homestuck is all about, or why they should read it, the vast majority of people expects a roundabout response. It’s weird and complicated, some say. You have to read it to understand it. There’s this notion that Homestuck is an inscrutable work that requires hours upon hours to get any enjoyment out of it, and this school of thought is only reinforced by Homestuck’s slow beginning. People love Homestuck, but while the first Acts serve as a great introduction to the Setting, people tend to remember and get excited by things happening later on. Where are the Trolls? Some say, already knowing the existence of these characters. Is this the right Webcomic? Was another typical question tossed around before the Viz Media redesign removed any shred of doubt regarding the comic. A lot of people outside of the Fandom hesitate to get into it, whether it be the Length, stories they may have heard about the Fans, or thinking it’s all Nonsense.

And yet, whatever it is you personally believe about Homestuck, its notoriety on the Internet speaks of there being... Something more to it. Something interesting enough to keep over a Million users checking the website daily at its height. Something interesting enough to Crash Newgrounds and partially Megaupload, Youtube, and other services with a single major update. You may not know what that is, specially with the paradoxically self-deprecating attitude a lot of the people in the Fandom have taken. With the Hiatuses and the Ending, a lot of people have left Homestuck behind, and yet you may still see people occasionally mentioning missing it, following certain Livebloggers of the comic, or creating/reblogging Fanart. Even those who didn’t enjoy the ending, as things have settled down, still remember the story fondly, and while going through a bit of a hiccup currently, Hiveswap has sparked interest in the story anew.

So the question is, of course. What makes Homestuck good? Why did it captivate so many people if it really is cryptic and confusing? Or was it just a passing fad? Is there any actual veracity to these claims? Today, I am going to explain what’s captivating about this Webcomic, and then go through the entirety of the story showcasing turning points for the narrative and how they are executed in this Modern Shakespearean Odyssey. Be warned, there will be Spoilers, but I will try to confine them to the second half of this post.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

So let’s preface this addressing the big elephant in the room. 

What IS Homestuck?

Even fans of the Webcomic may not be able to tell you specially well what it actually IS. It’s a Webcomic... But it’s not in a Comic Format, it’s more like a Choose your Own Adventure Game... But you don’t actually Choose anything... It’s been likened to Ulysses, as well as a Shakespearean Play. It’s been talked about as a Creation Myth by the author, as well as just ‘A Webcomic about Friends who Play a Game’, and a Webcomic about a Game in general.

Add to this the length and narrative shifts that occur through the story, and the ever-growing complexity of the narrative spanning through the entirety of the comic, and you have a metatextual behemoth the likes the Internet had never seen before. Perhaps bits and pieces of it, but not all together, and definitely not to such an extensive degree. But it really is not as difficult to understand as it may seem. All you need to do, is assess the Author’s prior works, and his intent with with his work, as well as Homestuck.

Before Homestuck.com was a thing, the website hosting Homestuck was Mspaintadventures. You can still read his old adventures, obviously, but back in the day Homestuck wasn’t specifically the focus- Rather, it was just the latest in a series of experimental stories Hussie had been working on. Going even further back in time, before MSPA was a thing, Hussie also worked on other things. ‘And It Don’t Stop’, and ‘Whistles the Midnight Calliope’ are stories Hussie created and illustrated, ‘Complacency of the Learned’ was a dropped project of his, and even further back he was part of a comic series at Team Special Olympics... Which. Was as awful as it sounds. And yet it’s thanks to these rather awful beginnings that we can begin assessing Homestuck in a clearer light.

The biggest key to being funny is to not be a dumbass. Really stupid people have a hard time being funny (intentionally). The smarter you are, the better the odds you have of being funny. Note that sometimes you run into really smart people who aren't funny, or lack a sense of humor. But note, this is VERY STRONG evidence that they are not nearly as smart as they appear to be! In my view at least.

When I equate humor as a product of intelligence, I mean it is primarily a product of awareness. The more you are aware of, and the more insight you have into a myriad of things, the more you will be able to successfully illuminate absurdity, and the more clever ways to accomplish this you will be able to conceive of. Awareness lends itself to an agile imagination. This is why stupidity is such comedic poison. Awareness of the world and that from which you draw your satirical muse is deadened by the mind-blunting forces that are associated with stupidity. These forces primarily are a lack of concentration and dedication, and inalertness to all that surrounds you and all content you are exposed to. As well as being quick to judge and label whatever does manage to get through the pinhole. Those are brain killers and comedy killers. They lead to hackneyed work at best, and incredibly awful, prejudicial, bigoted stuff at worst.

Now I don't mean to say I'm a real smart guy and that's why I'm funny, or EVEN VICE VERSA. I'm just pointing out that, in thinking back, becoming less obtuse and deepening my understanding of as much as possible was a turning point in beginning to understand what is and isn't funny. 

I just try to make sure every page has some purpose, whether it's just funny or amusing, or advances the story in some way. The most important page is always the one I'm working on. I never put out pages just to take up space or kill time.

I think if a story manages to be a succession of meaningful, entertaining events, then that fluidity happens automatically.

I am making the kind of thing I would want to read. I am making the kind of thing I wish existed, but doesn't. Yet.

I write it because I enjoy it and assume everyone else will take pity on those who don't.

Back when MSPA first launched, the featured story was Jailbreak. A simplistic CYOA story about a dude trying to escape a prison, that allowed readers to submit commands. Once Jailbreak was finished, Hussie began Bard Quest, which followed up on Jailbreak’s spirit, but with multiple branching options. This proved to be too much for Hussie to keep track of, sadly, and ended up dropping the story. Then we move on to Problem Sleuth, a story that spanned the entirety of a Year, about Hard Boiled Detectives. In a similar way to Jailbreak, Hussie allowed people to submit commands and started to showcase more of his style and special brand of humor. Towards the end of Problem Sleuth however, Hussie knew how he wanted to end the story, and began to cherry pick the commands and even make them up entirely so that he could give the story the ending he wanted.

And this brings us to Homestuck, after Problem Sleuth was finished. Homestuck’s development is, in a way, an antithesis of Problem Sleuth. With Problem Sleuth, Hussie learned about the shortcomings of CYOA Webcomics, and got some more insight on the genre. So when Homestuck began, he already had a story in mind, but allowed people to submit commands, to explore the world he’d already crafted. As such, things that would be out of character or disrupt the story in a way he didn’t agree with were humored as intrusive thoughts. The first few Acts are a tug of war, between the Author wanting to push the story in the direction he envisioned, and the Audience having a degree of control over the characters in ways that bring new interesting ideas and possibilities. This is what makes the first Act feel like a drag for some people. They have been told about the story when it’s already going in the direction the author wants, but the beginning is a playful back and forth of narrative forces. It starts silly. It starts comedic. And it retains the comedy through all of it. But at the start, the lack of any concrete setting or storyline make everything feel like absurdist tomfoolery. 

It’s those who enjoy this style or bear through it and get hooked on by the many plot hooks afterwards that learn there’s something more to the story, and this is what creates the divide between people within the Fandom and people Outside of it.

But this didn’t exactly answer the question did it? WHAT is Homestuck really? 

Homestuck is a cultural amalgamation, and a way for Hussie to expose his inner world while improving as a person. Many people have attacked Hussie and Homestuck because of his work at Team Special Olympic, and the use of a few slurs- Namely the R word, through the first Acts of Homestuck, and while it’s commonly used up to Act 5, it falls in desuse afterwards. People outside of the circle see this and would argue that most of the comic uses slurs- However, the first Acts were made in a very small span of time, compared to how long Act 6 took to make. It was also an issue people had less awareness of back then. The further you get into the story, the more it touches upon very real themes, psychological issues, identity, orientation.

From the point of the Story itself, Homestuck is an intense Cultural Remix of old and new, mixture of Classical Themes with Pop Culture, touching everything from the Philosophy of Existentialism and Gnosticism to joking about the Obama Presidency. It’s Hussie, as a complex author, creating an intricate Multiverse with intriguing mechanics that draws inspiration from everything from Religious currents to Dragon Ball Z and Earthbound. But from the point of the Author, Homestuck is the exposition of themes Hussie feels are interesting to share with an audience, as he grows to understand more about the world around him, learns from his mistakes, and creates a work he would want everyone to enjoy.

And since it spanned a period of Seven Years, the themes it touches, the culture it reaches to, and the way Hussie himself behaves, slowly shift through the entirety of the narrative. You can see the growth, of both Homestuck and the Author, both in the art style and in the narrative, as time goes on. This is why Homestuck is so hard to pin-point and explain, because it could very well seem two entirely different stories at two different randomly picked spots. And yet, at the same time, it’s the way Homestuck evolves and grows that captivates many people, the way a simple story becomes something much more grand and intense.

And while this showcases what Homestuck IS, it definitely leaves a much more important question in the air...

What is Homestuck ABOUT?

Because of the same reasons discussed above, the very story of Homestuck seems ever-shifting depending on how deep in you are. Some people simply mention Act 1, trying to avoid Spoilers- The story about the protagonist, John Egbert, and his group of Online Friends, who play a Game together, which leads to unforseen consequences. Others will try to dig deeper into the story, but without giving specific details, perhaps teasing about some events later on in the story, or commenting about Time Travelling, but leaving it ambiguous and difficult to understand. Others may straight up decide to spoil a Plot Point in hopes of hooking their friends into the story, and yet, without the context of the rest of the comic behind it, the Plot Hook simply doesn’t stick as well as it should, and at worst, even makes others believe the story to be Ridiculous or Nonsensical.

Hussie himself has described the comic in various different ways through the years, with the most prominent two explanations being A Comic about Online Friends who Play a Game, and A Comic about Games. And you can see both of these being true through the entirety of Homestuck, the narrative does indeed begin with Kids playing a Game, and said Game is the very core of the Setting, around which the conflict revolves. At the same time, the Comic takes upon game-like characteristics, having an in-Universe inventory system the Kids mess around with, and draws themes from many other games- Building like in the Sims, a RPG-like levelling up system, and even going as far as to include Easter Eggs, Cheat Codes, Glitches and Corruptions occasionally. Homestuck makes fun of Video Game Tropes, while at the same time embracing them for its own purposes, whether it be to create a plot point or to add some comedic messing around with inventory management.

Because of this Videogame Style, too, and the Game the protagonists play, the author manages to combine a Modern Setting with Sci-Fi elements, and further digs into it with Fantasy themes. Magic and Science mix confusingly, Game Mechanics raise questions about Reality itself and Free Will, and yet in turn also allow for an incredible degree of Customization and Self-Insertion.

Through its parody of Videogames and its draw from multiple cultures, Homestuck builds one of its biggest strengths in its Versatility. It presents core ideas that become rational parts of the narrative, and allow the story to take any twist and turn imaginable without being far-fetched. People loved making theories about the direction of the story, people still make stories about the story, people love to make their own characters and include them in the setting, insert themselves. And it works! Because the Setting is Hyper-Flexible and allows for people to work with a solid foundation that spans so many fun things!

In turn, however, this also becomes one of the story’s biggest flaw when it comes to drawing in new people- The density of the story is such that most people will find something intriguing and interesting, and yet, people will find different things interesting and intriguing. So someone may read the first few Acts, and not get hooked, even though if they kept reading they would enjoy it! Conversely, others enjoyed the first few Acts, but perhaps missed some plot point along the way, or took a break and forgot something, causing confusion about later events and not letting them enjoy the setting as much as they should be. Homestuck is not a story for everyone. It has something for everyone, and it has an incredible amount of appeal to a number of different demographics, but because of this, there’s a divide among ‘when the good stuff begins’. This creates expectations- They will say the first Acts are bad, and then someone will read them and find them Hilarious and Charming. They will claim certain characters are the best and they can’t wait for their friend to get to them- But their friend fell in love with another set of characters, and now they want to skim over the thing the other was so in love with to get back to the action. Ultimately, this shouldn’t matter- If you think you’d enjoy Homestuck for what it is, it’s a great story with amazing characters. But within the Fandom, this creates a disparity on what parts of the story are good/bad/better/worse, and as such, may put off people who would otherwise love certain aspects of it.

Regardless of whether they enjoy it now or later, whether they enjoy it overall or don’t find enjoyment, Homestuck is what it is. An Hyperflexible Narrative about a Group of Friends playing a Game, parodying popular Game Tropes and getting more Intricate as time goes on, always dangling a new plot thread in front of the audience without providing all the answers, giving enough to keep their attention, but not enough to spoil them. Foreshadowing future events that, when happen, click in your head and make you realize how far back everything goes, and how everything is intertwined. It’s a crazy, often silly comedy. And in my opinion? It’s something people should give a try if they have the slightest bit of interest in.

There’s no shame in dropping the story at any point if you’re not enjoying it after all. Homestuck is long, and if you’re not liking it it’s okay to let it be and just think it’s not for you. But if it grabs you? It grabs you hard, and it makes you want more. 

And while the story and the mechanics and the narrative it presents are incredibly intriguing and rather deep, there’s also something everyone who likes Homestuck enjoys.

The Characters

One of the biggest draws in Homestuck, people will often mention, are the Characters. The group of main friends, along with everyone presented afterwards, some are more relatable than others, but ultimately they’re all enjoyable in some way. Hussie himself once said that he disliked writing characters he didn’t personally enjoy on some level. And you can see this even with the simplest of one-shot characters. They’re complex and flawed, and often come to either realize their own mistakes, or have someone else showcase their rights and wrongs. Their interests, their interactions with others, it creates for multi-dimensional characters that often feel like real people, which stick to a set of values and a type of personality.

This is magnified by the concept of the Hero Titles, what would be Homestuck’s equivalent to someone choosing a ‘Rogue’ or a ‘Paladin’ in a game. They don’t show up until later on, but even in the earlier acts these Titles give more context to the Characters’ personalities and what they did and what they will do next. And they can be applied to pretty much everything, even characters outside of Homestuck and even to yourself! Yet another layer of customization that keeps people interested in the setting, specifically because many Titles are left rather ambiguous. Flexibility is, once again, the name of the game.

And speaking of Flexibility? The characters in Homestuck are designed with Headcanon Flexibility in mind. The art style is often symbolic and rather undefined. Characters are represented by loose shapes, by their Symbols and their Colors, rather than a specific look, which has led to artists drawing them in all sorts of ways! All characters are, canonically, Aracial, a blank slate to project upon, and even the hair color is more often seen as ‘dark’ or ‘light’ rather than necessarily Black or White. Sure, Hussie slips some times because he has his own headcanons, calling babies ‘pink’ at times or mentioning about someone being ‘white’, but ultimately? Race, Height, Body Type, is often left ambiguous and shifts heavily, specially when Guest Artists begin to show up. And yet, whenever you see a specific character being interpreted in one way? It doesn’t matter what the artist’s specific Headcanons are, you can still tell they’re them. People will joke about certain characters being similar to each other with this symbolic style, but the fact you can always recognize them in fanart is a testament to their Design.

Ultimately

Homestuck is a weird and unique story, which is why it’s drawn so many people to it. Everything about it is a progression, an evolution. The Art Style improves as it goes on. The narrative gets more complex and gains more depth, building up from the very same base it started with. The characters grow and change through the story, facing relatable issues and inter-personal problems. The author gains more awareness, betters himself, grows as a person, and it reflects on the story and the themes it touches. A silly story about a group of Online Friends. A tale of self-improvement. A Creation Myth about what the author thinks is Right and Wrong. A collage of Classic and Popular Media combined in a new-age medium. A LGBT-positive tale with quite strong representation specially late-game representation. A versatile tale to entice people to get involved in the Fandom in one way or another.

It is not perfect. But it doesn’t need to be. It’s constantly pushing the boundaries that define it and experimenting, shifting in its angle and becoming more in tune with the issues in the world. A story about Hope and Change, a series of enigmas presented with just enough puzzle pieces missing to make you wonder and theorize, but not enough that things become frustratingly obtuse.

That is why Homestuck is so hard to define. That is why so many people enjoy Homestuck and have stuck with it for so long. And that is, if you think you would enjoy this silly narrative, why, you too should read Homestuck! Maybe it doesn’t stick! Maybe you simply don’t enjoy the style, and that’s fair.

But if you do enjoy it and follow through? It can and will shift your perspective on so many things.

Also, if you’re worried about not getting some of the Pop Culture references, like movies and such, don’t worry- I didn’t get half of them back in the day, and what they did was actually make me interested in movies I would’ve had no interest in whatsoever otherwise.

I’m specially looking at you, Con Air.