#but today i realised that majority of this fandom is not going to change

[hobismilitarywife]

.

[xiaosonlybeloved]

Too Late~ Dazai Osamu

featuring:- PM!Dazai Osamu, gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned), Chuuya (briefly) warnings:- angst, hurt/no comfort, being hostage, mentions of torture in captivity, graphic mentions of blood and violence, major character death, lmk if i missed anything a/n:- im already sighing on looking at the warnings... it IS bsd i suppose.. well here's what im best at again, in a new fandom, so have some angst that is VERY late set some time before Odasaku's death

wc:- 2.5k || masterlist

Not many people knew what it was like to have known Dazai before he joined the Port Mafia. To be one of the few people who had been trusted by him. Keyword being ‘had’- for some, some unfathomable reason, he’d drifted away, leaving you behind, alone. Making you wonder if for some reason he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

It hurt. It hurt that you could lose him so easily, despite having been with him throughout the years, making sure he knew that you would always be there for him, silently tending to him after yet another attempt. It hurt because you had no idea what you did wrong to push him away. It hurt because he didn’t care anymore, for you, for them, for your shared childhood. 

A fool could have probably known that you shouldn’t have gotten so close to the brunette, that he leaves nothing but a trail of suffering and sorrow in the wake of the people who dared to care for him. You, however, argued that he wasn’t like this before. At all. Again, a fool’s excuse.

Perhaps the Port Mafia had changed him, so much more than it changed you. Because now, he was completely unrecognisable, almost like he was a different person altogether. And you can’t help but dully wonder where the man you once knew almost inside out went, the man who once did his best to stay with you no matter what, when he abandoned you yet again during a joint mission ordered by Mori, citing some logical reasons of why it was better for you to not be with him during a mission. (Like always.) Not even bothering to get your opinion or response, something he never did before joining the Mafia.

You watch silently as the brunette slowly disappears into the horizon, leaving you behind. Again.

That night, as you return to your apartment alone once again, (Bittersweet memories surface in your mind- young Dazai cheerily walking you back home, laughing.), you get the distinct feeling that something is off. You are a mafioso after all, you need to have a keen sense for danger to be alive in this industry. You’re instantly on high alert, even though you look calm as always, with your hands in your coat pockets, ready to pull out your knives in a moment. But you still can’t sense anyone following you. Just to be sure, you take a detour home. 

You take a deep breath at the threshold of your door, relieved to be back here. That sense of danger wasn’t as prominent anymore, and you were dying to get some sleep in an attempt to get a certain brunette out of your mind. You’d deal with whatever the problem was tomorrow- you’d had enough today. You can’t help but smile forlornly as you walk into your dimly lit home-

-And then suddenly you’re falling, falling, into a void of darkness, surrounded by the people you care, by him, hurling words at you that stab you like a thousand knives in a nightmare, and dumbly you realise that you walked right into an ability user’s trap, before the unknown ability takes your consciousness, bringing a silent darkness and pain. 

*********

Mimic. A foreign organisation, a group of extremely skilled soldiers who sought the Port Mafia for unknown reasons. People who are willing to go to extreme lengths to get what they wanted- much like your own boss, really. And the ones who are your captors.

You can’t move, you’ve been chained. You assume that they want someone valuable to the Mafia as a hostage, and apparently you serve the purpose well. And dammit, you’ve been completely disarmed while unconscious, you can’t feel a single weapon on you. You’re alone, too, but there’s definite signs that someone’s been here, multiple times. There’s also an assortment of sharp weapons some distance away from you, and you think its cruel to leave them in your sight but out of reach. There’s no windows or openings either.

Footsteps echo outside the door of the room you’ve been kept in, breaking your survey of the room and your thoughts of escape routes. Two men walk in, dignified. It’s clear that they are war-trained soldiers. One of them stops talking with a grin, as he notices you awake.

**********

They want an individual from the Mafia on orders of their boss. They claim that Mori has been taking too long in making a decision, and they apparently hope their decision to take you captive will either force Mori to choose, or force you to give up the individual’s identity yourself in exchange for your freedom under pressure. But you can’t, won’t do the latter.

Because the individual they want is Oda Sakunosuke, Dazai’s new best friend, and you know damn well that he would utterly despise you if you gave up his identity, if you took away the one who gave him his reason to smile these days. Bitter thoughts cloud your mind, of how he abandoned you completely over some new friends, and you wonder if it would be better to just tell them. But then, your mafia sense kicks in, reasoning that if Mori doesn’t want his identity to be revealed yet, then you're probably as good as dead if you choose for him instead and return alive. (You would later realise that this thinking, too, was planned out by Mori, that bastard.) Your captors let hints slide that they’ll let your absence build up for a while, then let the Mafia know of your being their captive. Hopefully they do something. 

You’ll just have to do your best to get out of those damn bonds by then, or survive till then. This was a very convenient time to wish that Dazai had taught you his little trick on how to unlock handcuffs, you think wistfully.

*********

As it turns out, surviving is an extremely hard thing to do after a few days have passed since Mori was apparently informed about the news of your captivity. Mori still hadn’t responded with his decision. Proof being the various cuts and bruises littering your skin already, a few small bloodstains already on the wall and floor. Not too much. Yet. They were intent on forcing your answer out of you, and clearly wouldn’t mind going to extremes for it.

You did your utmost to not make a single reaction when the knife pierced through your skin again, despite the pain that shot through your body for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, you were well trained on how to not divulge information in captivity- after all, the Port Mafia really couldn’t risk their insider secrets getting out. 

You were still intent on escaping, on getting out. You still had a flicker of hope in you, that someone would come for you, that he might come for you, despite the past few days proving fruitless. You refused to give up yet. You still believed in him, in them, that you wouldn’t be abandoned so easily by your kin.

‘Such a naive belief’, you would dully think some days later.

********

Hope seemed like such a foolish thing now. You had lost track of time in the room without windows. No idea of how many days or weeks had passed. They weren’t coming for you. Of course they weren’t. You weren’t that important anyways, easily replaceable. Casualties happened often, what did it matter if someone died by being taken hostage? You truly attempted to free yourself, many times. You never succeeded, and each time you only received more wounds as punishment. Your captors were merciless, to say the least.

Wounds. That seemed like a small word to use at this point, with how battered and bruised you were. Your clothes were bloodsoaked, and you’d lost count of the number of scars and cuts you’d gained from your captors a long while ago. You could sense they were getting extremely frustrated by the lack of response. You didn’t mind, you didn’t care. You’d even stopped screaming when they cut you particularly deep- you just didn’t have any strength left in you at all. You passed out a few times from extreme blood loss. You could almost hear Mori in your mind, scolding you to get up already. 

Mori. Of course, everything was probably a part of his heartless plans, fully willing to use any number of pawns for their execution.

At this point, you just wanted to be put out of your misery.

Your wish was granted some time- days?- later.

*******

Dazai was initially relieved when you didn’t show up to your next joint mission. He wouldn’t have to ensure your safety and hide his feelings again. But he’d quickly figured out that something was wrong when you didn’t show up again, and again, and you were nowhere to be seen around the Port Mafia buildings either. He’d gathered up the courage to go to your apartment, but had immediately sensed the ability at the entrance and deactivated it. That was what confirmed it for him, and finally, he allowed himself to feel fear for his childhood best friend. For you.

He was well aware that he didn’t deserve to, after how terribly he treated you in an attempt to protect himself from his emotions. His only defence was that he was afraid of hurting you- he knew his reputation well. But that didn’t matter right now- he had to find you. Except not a single person had a clue of your whereabouts. The only person he hadn’t questioned yet was Mori. 

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the doors of Mori’s office. He was scared. Scared of what he’d find.

Again, that would prove to be one of his biggest mistakes, when Kouyou grimly approached him, having accidentally obtained information about you that she wasn’t even supposed to know in Mori’s office. Kouyou cared for you enough to let Dazai know of your situation.

Dazai felt sick to the core when he saw the single picture attached in the message Kouyou sent him, along with a decision to choose between you and the future-seeing ability user- Odasaku. His heart dropped into his stomach even more when he saw that the last message was a few days ago. What if-?

No. Dazai refused to think of that possibility. He’d track down the source of that picture, he’d hunt them down, make them regret their decision, and he’d get you back. He’d make sure of it. He had too many apologies he owed to you after all, even if they would never make up for all that he’d done. He would.

*******

You were surprised that their boss hadn’t shown up to interrogate you yet. You simply stared hollowly at the walls as the door slammed open and the highest-ranked individual in the facility walked in, knife in hand. 

Not a single piece of information slipped past your mouth, as he went through the routine torture process. 

Time passes, and you can see that he’s grown extremely frustrated with your lack of response. One of the others standing at the door, watching your misery, suggested that he simply kill you and get it over with. It was pointless to keep you around anymore.

‘Finally’ you think darkly. You didn’t think you could hold out for much longer. 

You close your eyes, not wanting to see your killer. Instead, you remember the people you care for, silently apologising to them for giving up. Somewhere, in the background, you hear the distant noises of shouting. Probably some of the other soldiers playing cards or something again.

Despite you willing yourself to not make a sound, a shattering scream tears itself out of your throat when you feel the knife harshly stabbed straight into your heart. Your killer twisted it roughly- another scream, your last- and then pulled the knife out. 

You feel yourself fall forward, double in on yourself, wrists held back to the wall. The agony is excruciating, but hopefully it won’t last long. To you, it feels as if your screams are echoing in the room, or maybe in your mind, and your vision has gone blurry in pain. But then, you realise through your numb haze that your screams do not sound like that- you’ve heard the sound enough.You realize that maybe someone has attacked your captors.

There’s a terrified shout mixed in all the clamor, and its a voice that you would recognise anywhere. ‘But there’s no way’, you think hollowly. No one cared enough to come for you.

Then you feel yourself falling forward suddenly, blood gushing out from your chest, into someone’s familiar arms as your eyes close. The handcuffs are gone. Faintly, you hear a voice- his voice- through the ringing in your ears, saying something unintelligible to you. You can’t understand what's being said, but you struggle to open your eyes one last time to see.

And somehow, Dazai is there, holding you tightly, eyes full of panic and terror, everyone else in the room crushed to the ground. He’s saying something worriedly to someone behind him- Chuuya. You briefly wonder if you’re hallucinating, but decide against it- this all feels too real. This must have been the shouts in the distance.

They came for you. In the end, they came, albeit a bit too late. You feel yourself being lifted, and then Dazai is running out, holding you carefully as if you could break any moment- you’re already broken though. You feel the cool night breeze for the first time in ages, see the beautiful moon again. A small smile rests on your lips as you feel yourself finally fall limp in his arms. ‘He still looks as pretty as before, and maybe, just maybe, he still cares for you’, is what you think.

You shut your eyes again, surrendering yourself to the darkness beyond the agony.

********

Horrified is much too mild a word to use, when he sees your condition. When he sees you being stabbed in front of his eyes, when you fall limp in his arms. The next moments are a panicked blur, Chuuya saying something to take you somewhere, that he’ll handle this place. He runs straight out, towards the Mafia building, towards the doctors, towards the hospital, anywhere, anywhere you can be saved. 

But its already too late, he knows it when you don’t move in his arms anymore, when your bleeding chest doesn’t rise and fall again, and he doesn’t know what else to do apart from screaming in sorrow and fear, because he’s just lost the one person who understood him like no one else, who cared for him like no one else, who he stupidly pushed away, and its all because of him. He falls to his knees, still clutching your lifeless, bleeding body. Your face had a hint of a smile in your last few moments, and that is what finally breaks him. All he can do is cry out apologies continuously, tears freely streaming down his face, for everything he’s done wrong, for how he’s treated you, for being too late to save you.

finallyyy, and as usual, votes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated also lmk if you guys want a happy ending :D

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged in this by the lovely and wonderful @themirokai. It's taken me a while to get to it, but here we are today.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

12

2. What's your total Ao3 word count?

293,965 - respectable, I think. An average of 24,497 words per work.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Sherlock, Good Omens, James Bond, La Casa de Papel/Money Heist. I'm by far the most prolific for Sherlock. Would like to do some more LCDP one day, maybe even in Spanish. And I feel some Bridgerton (specifically Kanthony) might be inevitable one day.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

When It Rains - aka my completed Mystrade epic, 98,000+ words.

A Christmas Thief - my LCDP Raquel/Sergio advent calendar, based on the Netflix A Christmas Prince film. It is SILLY (affectionate). (41,000+ words)

Major Revisions - an enemies-to-lovers, academia AU for my eternal faves (it's Mystrade). Lots of silly Christmassy tropes here too. (27,000+ words)

A Series of Unfortunate Interruptions - Good Omens this time, wherein our favourite angel/demon duo cannot find a single moment alone to do some confessing and/or kissing. (8000+ words)

Plan Normandy - my LCDP fix-it, where the gang escape the Bank of Spain together, and have to decide what it is they're going to do next. (19,000+ words)

Note: all these fics are complete!!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do! I don't always get to them immediately, particularly when real life is busy, but I will get back to everyone, at some point. And I always read them, and appreciate them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

By an absolute country mile, it's Ashes, from my old FF.net account. Because that site doesn't have AO3's comprehensive tagging, let me add the warnings here: major character death, graphic drug use.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think A Christmas Thief/Major Revisions/Plan Normandy are all pretty soppy by the end. But most of my recent fics have happy endings, even if I enjoy the anguish in the middle.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't. I got one kind of negative comment in a bookmark, but I understand that wasn't meant for me and, after I'd got over the initial upset, I realised they weren't actually wrong anyway.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally, as part of longer stories. It's usually not particularly graphic - the longest and most detailed is Chapter 5 of Fire Dancing with Snow, if you want to get an idea.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not yet! Maybe one day.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I haven't, I don't think.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Also no: I think I could, if we agreed the overall plot together and then wrote sections solo (and gave feedback). But I couldn't sit down with someone and discuss a fic line by line.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

It had to be Mystrade. I'm not always fixated on them, the fixation ebbs and flows, but they are the ship that has endured longest in my mind.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't think there's a fic I want to finish that I doubt I will. There's at least one I don't want to finish because I dislike it (In My Blood I Felt Bubbles Burst, sorry), but if I want to finish it, then I'll finish it (unless I change my mind). It might just take me a long time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like metaphors, and kind of poetic description (particularly of feelings). I do, of course, need to be careful not to overdo it, but I think I often do hit the right note, and am able to describe complex feelings in quite original ways.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Over-writing, I think. I'm very wordy, and I can get stuck in minutae that not a single person (including me) cares about. I'm getting better at recognising when it's happening, but it's still definitely a weakness. Plus, planning out a bit elaborate plot, but then leaving it too long between chapters so I have to re-read absolutely everything to avoid plot holes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I wouldn't write dialogue in another language in my English fics, unless I had help from a native speaker, as otherwise the level would be too far below my English level. But I've written a few bits and pieces in Spanish, and I'd like to continue improving my proficiency there.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who! Picture this: I am 13, and I am heartbroken after Doomsday. I decide I'm going to fix it.

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I'm going to go When It Rains, I think. This might be because it's got a lot of positive attention and that contributes to my warm feelings about it, but I do re-read parts of it sometimes, and it very definitely falls into the 'this is exactly what I want to read' camp, which I think is important in your own fics.

I hope you enjoyed this! And, either way, I am going to tag a few people, just in case you'd like to do this. No pressure of course, it is a little time-consuming: @the-toad-in-your-piano, @ewebie, @evendale, @brigwife, @feeisamarshmallow... and you, dear reader, if you so wish. Please tag me even if I've not tagged you, I'd love to read your answers!

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

I’ve appreciated your interest in and insight into whatever Taylor Swift and Matty Healy are doing, as well as your anon who made the connection to what The 1975 have been up to with videos. A majority of what I see online about them and about celebrity culture in general is so reactive and incurious that I really really value the rare exceptions who take the time to be thoughtful. Just, thanks. I probably would have left tumblr by now if it weren’t for you and a very few others. Happy to have broken my addiction to twitter and don’t miss it at all. Have a great week, Ralph.

Thanks anon - that's a really lovely thing to hear.

I do think the fact that it's so easy to reach an absurd number of people with our incurious reactions means that working to process as much we can before pushing our ideas out into the world is really advisable (particularly if we're operating in an environment where you're working together to make things normal).

But reacting is definitely part of being human. I have had a very strong 'THIS IS NOT POLITICS' response to the fandom discourse. And the question of meaningful political action - particularly the importance of building collective action solidarity rather than individualist responses - is incredibly important me. The idea that yelling at or about people on the internet helps build a better world infuriates me. But that wasn't that was all that was going on (I probably would always have felt it, but it might not always have been in caps).

I realised today, during a work conversation, what some of the personal stakes were for me and why this week of all weeks I have had little tolerance for the idea that this fan response was political. (The very short version is that last week, someone who I'd organised with 25 years ago had died under horrific circumstances that were directly connected to everything that we'd been trying to prevent. To know that someone you worked with to try and make things better, has died as a direct result of everything you were trying to fight - really underscores how little effect you've had compared to what needs to be done. And that means that I have felt the weight of what meaningful political action is and my capacity for generosity for things that are presented as political, but aren't actually about creating meaningful change is greatly depleted).

And I wouldn't have shared any of this without your anon - but I figure one thing I can do is walk through that process - and say it's not that we need to squelch our reactionary selves. It doesn't work and anyway our reactions often come from really important places. But that it's important not to centre our reactionary tendancies and treat our reactions as the truth.

**********

I am interested in what's going on, as well as the way people are talking about. What I'm thinking about most at the moment - is the relationship between what's happening right now and Midnights. When the break-up between her and Joe was announced - I did wonder if they'd been broken up for ages. Because Midnights did seem to describe their break up. But now it's also describing what's happening now - and that's far more interesting. To me it suggests she made art that pin pointed both how she felt about her life and the life that she wanted - in ways that she didn't fully understand.

It blows my mind how much the song Bejewelled seems to fit the night Taylor played at The 1975 Concert in January. If the song was first released in six months time I would totally believe that it was about that night. But of course it's not. Instead writing the song was part of Taylor processing her feelings and we've no idea if the enactment was conscious or unconscious, but it's fascinating either way.

As someone who is often frustrated at fandom discourse that is basically 'I can figure out what was going on in people's lives from their songs. I find the messiness of this (and what it suggests of the futility of certainty) fascinating.

[boba-beom]

thank you smiles❤️ i'm really trying my best i would say. but one another exam down, one more to go!! i can't wait to finish the other one as well, because i'm flying home the next day and i've been missing my family like crazy lately🥺

how are you doing though? any interesting books you've been reading?❤️

you can definitely tell that the staff of those shows enjoy their time with txt as well based on how much they laugh and cheer for our boys. ah, it just warms my heart.

i'm also very happy with how much the fandom has grown and how txt are beloved not only by international fans, but by korean fans as well. they've worked so hard to get where they are and they only keep working harder and surprising us with each comeback, yet they're also so humble about it all. i just love them so much🥺❤️

also adding beomgyu of the day here. this beomgyu lives rent free in my head.

also thought this might crack you up. i couldn't stop laughing for ten minutes at this pls💀

major i like u vibes

you're always welcome!! and trying your best is all that matters, I'm still proud of you for doing so! one more exam left omgg!! I hope when the time comes, you have a safe flight home ☺️ sometimes you just need to be surrounded by them, you know?

I'm doing okay, my body still aches from the yoga but then realised it's also because of my period pains :( I had uni today but went home after my last lecture and took a long nap. I ended up sleeping for 5 hours lmao and as for books!! I'm currently reading a book called This Could Change Everything by Jill Mansell. it's pretty interesting and I love books with multiple potential partners. are you reading any books recently?

you definitely can tell the staff enjoys editing their content too! especially the 2D1N series, you can tell they had fun editing those episodes hehe

txt are always so humble about their achievements and always so grateful, which is why I admire them so much 🥹 they treat winning a show trophy as if they've won a bonsang and I love that so much! you're right, they have dream week coming soon but I feel like I'll be here for some of their content 😭 I'm still excited for their 4th anniversary nonetheless though!

nskjfjks omg mirotic beomgyu was my obsession for the longest time when they performed that, again back with his facial expressions he is definitely a performer :') OH and his voice?!?! excuse me but he's just so fineeeeeee

PLS that clip is so funny. honestly, I love new jeans for dropping that song, hype boy was my favourite when it came out and it literally did us all a favour having all these bgs do their choreo, it's just so fun to do 😋 I wanna know if you have a favourite from new jeans??

AND THOSE PHOTOS omg definitely major I Like U vibes :(( but I find it so endearing how you still link things to that series! I'm always so grateful for your enthusiasm about that :') I'm sorry the series is running slow though!!

[people-wxtching]

let's settle this today.

"the book emphasized annabeth being blonde and white and blah blah blah"

the books were written like a decade ago with no specific race allotted to the main trio. annabeth's descriptions about being blonde, percy having black hair and sea green eyes etc. were merely to make the characters feel like characters rather than a black floating blob wrapped around a big question mark in the reader's imagination.

the official arts and fanarts are what led most of the fandom to envision the main trio as white.

however, annabeth not being blonde or percy not having black hair does not take away any of the main plot of the books. yes maybe those curly black hair is what made you fall in love with percy's character but you need to realise that it has absolutely nothing to do with the plot.

don't try to argue with the gods as a reason because gods clearly don't have DNA which means their children can look like whatever but uh rick himself seemed to have forgotten that many times in the books (but that's not relevant at the moment).

"nOt tO bE rAcIsT-"

stop. you know you're gonna spout some racist bs anyway.

"-but rick said he'd be sticking to the books! he's NOT sticking to the books :((("

sticking to the books generally consists of the adaption being faithful to the plot. the bonds between the characters, the grief, the trauma, the kids being at such a tender age having to go through such harrowing experiences are what the books were about. capturing these major themes as well as the snark, smarts, attitude and so on is what is the main thing one should be focusing on in the show. THAT is what makes a good and faithful adaptation that is true to the books. having a darker skin tone affects nothing.

"but the dumb blonde stereotype-"

i'm aware that a lot of you wanted to see annabeth blonde and prove that blondes can be smart too or whatever it is you guys wanted. however, having annabeth as black fleshes out her character even more, and there could be even deeper characterization than in the books.

plus, if you really wanna see them defeat a dumb blonde stereotype, walker is literally right there??? percy's character is literally about his struggles as a neurodivergent teenager and he's been called stupid and good for nothing his whole life. isn't that exactly what you guys wanted annabeth to do and your main reason to be racist?

to this some might argue that the dumb blonde stereotype is more prevalent in female characters. and EXACTLY. it is. you wanna know why? MISOGYNY. that is essentially where this stems from. and you know who else goes through the same thing every single day with an addition of racism? black women and girls. do you see how that same problem could be discussed in another way? when the root of the problem IS misogyny, is Annabeth being black really changing the actual frustration over the problem at all??? no! it's giving it an even deeper and more prevalent look. what do you not understand here.

if the book annabeth defeating the dumb blonde stereotype has helped you with what you went through, that's great but there are SO many other shows, and also the books themselves (the tv show does not change the books. rick is not jkr. he never said that this is what he meant in the books too. he said they can both coexist because it literally does not matter given how inconsistent he is about descriptions in his own material) that defeat this stereotype. however it is very hard to find media where black women (and also desi characters) are depicted in a positive light as a main character with their own personality and character arcs, without any stereotypes. modernization of series has been going on for ages, I dont know why you guys are crying over the dumb blonde stereotype and thinking it is much more prevalent and a major issue than women of color who have to go through misogyny AND racism at all times throughout their entire life.

it's okay if you always envisioned annabeth as white with blonde hair or percy with black hair and sea green eyes and still want to continue doing the same. no one's stopping you. however, it is important to differentiate between the book percy and annabeth and the show percy and annabeth. the original white cast from the books, the various headcanons about the trio's ethnicities as well as the casting for the show CAN and SHOULD co-exist. the fact that this little detail bothers you as a teen/adult and not my 10 year old brother and other kids I interacted with says a lot.

the pjo book series was mostly white with like two memorable canon characters of colour, both of whom died before the series could end. therefore this casting is very important for the black as well as desi community so kindly, shut your racist ass up and sit down.

and don't you dare hate on these kids.

[missorgana]

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

*

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry,  was  an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t. 

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him. 

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they  do  watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

*

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you.  No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit. 

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry,  what? What the fuck? 

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s  worth saving . Fucking hell. 

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he-  fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him,  this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no.  Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I  need  to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing,  desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

*

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!” 

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening.  It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam  screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger.  Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is-  Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten.  My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body,  that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore  , he reminds himself.  They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head.  That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves-  loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Stabbed

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, Virgil, Gordon

Proofreading?  What’s proofreading?  This was a ventfic I started a while ago, and as my muse decided today - my one free day to properly write this week! - was the best day to go curl up in a corner and refuse to interact with me because some unwelcome stress appeared, I prodded a little more at this and maybe there’s enough to post.  Maybe.  It’s not a darkfic, but it is kinda whumpy so sorry, Scott.

I have nothing specifically planned for this, so chances are this is just going to remain like this forever more.  Sorry about that.

Scott gasped, staggering one step, two steps forward as something drove into his back.  Something solid, digging in painfully.

In front of him, crumbling away beneath the toes of his boots, was the crevasse he’d just climbed out of, the woman clinging to his back for dear life – uninjured, but shaken and unable to climb out herself.

Whatever it was was still lodged in his back, sending distress signals to his brain, but before Scott could unscramble it enough for a translation, there was a hand on his shoulder.  Steady but firm, heel of the palm dropped down over his shoulder blade.

“Sorry, hun,” the woman purred – was it the same women?  She’d been shaken but this woman wasn’t shaken at all – sounding entirely unapologetic.  “I appreciate the help, but I can’t have you blabbing.”

The pressure on – in – his back lessened abruptly, and the hand on his shoulder pushed.

Scott stumbled, earth gave way, and then he was falling, falling down into the darkness.  Instinct had him reaching for his grapple, but his back screamed at the movement and against his wishes his hands went numb, grazing the equipment but failing to grasp it.

Something went crunch inside his chest as his fall came to an abrupt end.  A rib or few, no doubt, but Scott had broken ribs before; a nuisance but as long as they didn’t poke holes anywhere they shouldn’t they’d be fine.  He was more concerned about his back, and the fact that he hadn’t landed at the bottom, but rather an outcropping of rock that wasn’t big enough for all of him. Already, he could feel blood rushing to his head as it dangled off the end, and the tingly feeling in his fingers that meant the blood flow to his extremities was compromised by the way they, too, were hanging.

Squinting, he could see his legs dangling as well, leaving his torso and abdomen the only thing actually caught by the outcrop.  If he shifted, his centre of balance would tip him off either forwards or backwards, and it was a long way down.

This was a problem. This was a big problem, and his screaming back just emphasised that.  His baldric was trapped between his chest and the outcrop, meaning that he couldn’t reach the comm in that, and his wrist comm…

He tried to twitch his tingling fingers without moving the rest of his arms.  It was not a successful move.  A second attempt was no better, and on his third he felt himself start to slip.

That was a major hint that he should stop moving.  Breathing didn’t help, either, his no doubt broken ribs sending stabs of pain through his chest to compliment the burning back.  He still didn’t know for certain what had happened, but he was starting to get a reluctant inkling.

There were only so many things that hurt specifically like this and Scott was unfortunately no stranger to things stabbing into him, as much as he tried hard not to think about it. He redirected his concern to the fact that whatever it was, it didn’t feel like it was there any more.

Suddenly the weird and uncomfortable position he was dangling in felt like a best case scenario, even if he could do without all the blood also rushing to his head.  But if it was pooling downwards, and the open wound was on the highest point of his body, maybe he wouldn’t bleed out quite so quickly.

He just had to hope one of his brothers realised something was wrong soon – but not so soon they also got attacked.

***

John telling him Scott had gone silent and wasn’t responding to hails had rushed Virgil into the fastest post-rescue clean up he’d ever done.  They weren’t far apart in distance – Scott had made the hop from this rescue to the trapped climber when the call had come in – but if John was worried, then Virgil was definitely worried.

Scott not picking up calls was unusual, especially multiple.  John had given them all enough earfuls about ignoring him that unless they had a really good reason, they always tried to respond immediately – the second eldest was not a brother to cross, and even Scott was wary enough of the consequences to at least agree to open comms.  Then again, open comms worked both ways and meant Scott could check up on them, too.

The added warning that it looked like his suit had taken some damage and he was partway down the crevasse and not moving was really just the icing on the cake.  Gordon had been slightly baleful at the snap to hurry up, until Virgil told him John thought Scott was in trouble, and then the aquanaut had jumped to work at a terrifyingly fast and efficient pace.

There was no room for slothfulness when a brother was in trouble.  Record time saw Thunderbird Two loaded and ready to go, and she roared into the sky at his touch, nose pointed in the direction her sister had headed earlier.

Thunderbird One had made the journey in five minutes.  Thunderbird Two made it in a shade under fifteen, going as fast as she could to minimise how long it took.  It was still twenty minutes since John had made the call, and Scott still wasn’t answering.  Scans and telemetry still put him down the crevasse, and Virgil didn’t bother to land.

Normally he’d keep control of Thunderbird Two and send Gordon down on the cable, but not this time. Not for Scott and the nagging sensation that he was needed.  Gordon didn’t argue when control was passed to him, and Virgil wasted no time in getting down to the module and rigging himself into a harness to be lowered.

It was a fair way down, not because Scott was far into the crevasse but because Thunderbird Two had to stay high so she didn’t dislodge anything with her VTOL.  They had no idea how secure or otherwise their brother’s position was, and if he fell from whatever was keeping him there, it was a very long way to the bottom.  A fatal fall.

Virgil couldn’t take any chances.

The familiar flash of blue uniform was the first thing he noticed.  The muddy crimson spreading across it was the second.

He accelerated his descent.

“Scott?”  His voice was drowned out by the VTOL of his ‘bird above. If Scott heard him, there was no reaction.  “Scott!”

Still nothing, and that red stain taunted him for the agonising seconds it took to draw level with the slumped form and properly get a look at his brother’s condition.

Bad was one way of putting it.  “John, find us a local hospital,” was another.

There was a ragged hole in the back of Scott’s uniform, the epicentre of the blood.  It barely missed the baldric, the margin looking painfully deliberate, but most concerning was the lack of an obvious case. Scott knew better than to take out foreign objects until it was time to be treated, and even if he’d mistakenly thought treatment was about to happen, there was no way he had reached whatever it was to extract it so cleanly.

Virgil felt cold at the implications.  “Gordon, anyone else nearby?”

He didn’t wait for the answer as he secured himself to the rock face with a grapple and yanked an emergency first aid kit out of his own baldric.  Scott hadn’t moved, hadn’t so much as twitched, at his arrival, and with the quantity of blood he’d lost, if he wasn’t unconscious he might as well be.

“Negative, Virgil,” Gordon said, voice steady and threaded with something that sounded like the military had come to the fore.  “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”  Virgil didn’t have the mental capacity to spare on anything more than basic answers.  “I’m secure; put her on autopilot and get a blood transfusion set up in the medbay.”

“F.A.B.”  The line connecting him to his ‘bird wavered slightly at the change in piloting, but the grapple held him in place.  Confident that Thunderbird Two would be ready for them, he wadded gauze and pressed it firmly to the hole in Scott’s back.  There was no response, no indication that Scott was even subconsciously aware of their surroundings, and he strapped it down with medical tape.

A deployed med scanner told him that there were two broken ribs.  Neither had snagged anything vital, but one was too close to Scott’s right lung for Virgil’s comfort.  There was very little he could do about that hanging inside a crevasse, and the priority was to get him to medical treatment as fast as possible.

It was awkward, but Virgil was creative, and securing a harness over his limp ragdoll of a big brother to tie him firmly to the cable suspended from Thunderbird Two was not an option but a necessity.  The gauze was already starting to discolour as the blood kept leaking out of the wound, and Virgil kept a careful eye on it as he triple-checked the line was secure and eased Scott off of the outcrop he was slung over.

The fact that his face was red wasn’t a reassurance; instead, it told him that Scott had been hanging down for long enough for the blood still in his body to pool in places it shouldn’t.  There wasn’t much he could do about it without risking further blood flow out of his body, but as the harness took Scott’s weight and left him suspended next to him, Virgil reached out a hand and carefully tilted his head so it wasn’t hanging down.

Blue eyes stayed lightly closed, no sign of conscious or subconscious recognition at the touch, and Virgil’s fingers trembled.  With his other hand he gripped the belt of Scott’s baldric, before sending up a call for them to be reeled in.  Whether it was John, Gordon or EOS that did so he didn’t know.  Didn’t care, either, because as the red drained from Scott’s face as blood retreated from pooling in his head it left too-white skin in its wake, which was almost worse.

Gordon’s language was colourful as he met them in the module, instantly fetching the hoverstretcher so that Scott could be gently lowered onto it as Virgil freed him from the harness and whisking him to the medbay as he extracted himself from his own straps.

It didn’t take long, but it was long enough for Gordon to have slipped Scott’s glove and bracer off of one arm and sliced the uniform open from wrist to shoulder, exposing the bare skin ready for the transfusion.  No words were exchanged as Virgil took over, Gordon instead relocating to cut away the baldric and the uniform around the hole in his back, exposing the site in its entirely.

Beneath his feet, Thunderbird Two thrummed as Thunderbird Five directed her into movement.  Virgil didn’t look away from his unconscious big brother for a single moment.

“This was a knife.” Gordon broke the silence, his voice icy. Virgil finished hooking Scott up to the blood bag and let it start flowing before looking over.

The aquanaut had removed the hastily plastered gauze, now saturated red, and was wiping away the worst of the blood from around the wound.  It wasn’t free-flowing, but that didn’t reassure Virgil.  After at least twenty minutes, Scott didn’t have much blood left he could afford to lose.  With most of it currently pooled where he was lying on his front, there wasn’t much to continue leaking from his back.

Virgil didn’t question his diagnosis.  When it came to things like that, Gordon knew more than he did.  Instead, he reached for a clotting agent, determined to do everything in his power to lessen the amount of blood still trickling out, while Gordon applied a fresh gauze.

“Mind his ribs,” he warned as his younger brother pressed down firmly.  “Two are broken.”

“Lungs?”

“Intact.”  For now.  Virgil hoped they could keep them that way.

There was little else he could do; a stab wound that deep needed surgery, and Thunderbird Two wasn’t an operating theatre.  Virgil wasn’t a surgeon, either.  “How far out are we, John?”

“Ten minutes,” his brother replied instantly.  “I’ve passed on the results of the scan and they’re ready to take him straight in.”

“F.A.B.”

He didn’t want to let his brother out of his sight – not ever, and certainly not if he’d been stabbed – but Scott needed more treatment than he could give him.  That didn’t make it easier to hand him over, blood bag still attached and a second prepped as the first ran low – and watch unfamiliar people whisk him away.

“Kayo’s on her way,” John told him.  “Thunderbird One is locked down and secure.  EOS is reviewing the security footage now to see what happened.”

“Some sonofagun stabbed him in the back’s what happened,” Gordon snapped.  His fingers were curling and uncurling, never quite making a fist. They were also covered in blood. So were Virgil’s.

“To see who did it,” John clarified, not reacting to Gordon’s waspishness.  “Until we know what we’re dealing with, stay together. And be careful.”

Virgil nodded, his voice somewhere stuck inside his throat, or maybe taken with Scott into the operating theatre.  He should be trying to reassure Gordon, but Gordon had slipped into something less familiar, more sharp edges and dangerous, and Virgil trusted him to handle whatever was going on around them while he ran through everything in his head, double-checking that he’d done everything right, that he hadn’t missed anything in his initial treatment, that there was no mistake he'd made that might cost Scott’s life.

There was a hand on his arm. Amber eyes looked up at him, firm and steely.  “Let’s get washed up,” Gordon said, although it wasn’t a suggestion.  Dimly, Virgil knew it should be the other way around – he should be the one making the decisions – but Gordon oozed confidence and a knowledge that he’d be obeyed, and it felt safer just to follow.  “Then we’ll go inside and wait for news.”

Wait to know if Scott would live.  The words weren’t said, but Virgil heard them all the same.

He nodded numbly and let his younger brother guide him back inside his ‘bird.

[dearingbooks]

The Difference one Woman can make.

Late Friday night in June, we had stopped for a burger on the way to the cinema, we used to do family movie nights at the cinema when a new film came out that the majority of us wanted to watch, this time I was the one who was reluctant to go, sadly we do this significantly less now.  So, stubborn 2015 me, rolling her eyes and dragging her feet up the cinema steps to find our seats to watch the new Jurassic World movie. Pathetic! I thought, why pay money to watch a movie about a dinosaur theme park! My parents had completely lost it! Huffing and puffing I took my seat on the aisle and sipped my blue raspberry slushie and looked up at the big screen. Ugh! I wanted it to be over, quickly. I sat down and shut my mouth, despite not wanting to watch it, I wasn’t going to spoil it for the others; but I didn’t get why they would want to watch it, I watched the trailer before going, was not impressed, it looked dumb!

However, as much as my pre-Jurassic self would not like, I found who I was during that movie, I discovered a whole new admiration for actors and movies. I found that I related to the main female protagonist, Claire Dearing. She did not need a man, or children, she was so focused on her career and let no one boss her around. She was top dog, and I completely fell for this fictional character. I evolved through that movie with her character, I felt content with being a strong female who put career over family. I wanted to embody this fictional woman; I wanted to be her.

On the journey home I typed ‘Claire Dearing actress’ into google and saw this stunning redhead- Bryce Dallas Howard. I immediately recognised her from movies I had watched prior, and I was completely astounded at her range of characters she can portray and portray them well. After scrolling through her Wiki page and reading news articles about her, I learned that she is the daughter of Ron Howard, one of my parents’ favourite people in film.

“Dad, that woman in the movie is Ron Howard's daughter”, I needed to inform my family that my now favourite woman in film is the daughter of my parents’ favourite people in film. My parents were shocked that I enjoyed the movie despite my loud vocalisation of not wanting to watch it.

Googling ‘Bryce Dallas Howard’ became my new after school routine, learning that she applied to acting school as Bryce Dallas to avoid people knowing she is the daughter of an already famous actor and director, and she had met her true love at nineteen and is still happily married to him. Yet what most stuck out to the self-conscious, body hating 2015 me, was that Bryce wasn’t a skinny twig of a woman that you see in most movies, she had classy curves and promoted body positivity despite some backlash the media gave her. I made a connection with this woman I had never met because I too received negative comments about my figure, yet Bryce took that on the shoulder and learned to love herself. I wanted to feel that self-love about myself that she acquired.

After watching Jurassic World, I explored many more fandoms, and from there I became obsessed with movie franchises and TV shows, actors and directors. I could not give you a full list of all of the fandoms I am in, there are too many to count, and they have all played a role in helping me evolve to who I am today. All because I latched onto one character from one movie I did not even want to watch, one film got me hooked on this life: it’s like a drug. I cannot stop. I also went back and forth with my hairstyle due to this woman; in the movie Bryce has a stunning ginger graduated bob with a fringe, however I never had the guts to go ginger until now; shame the hairdressers are all shut.

Now, almost six years later Bryce Dallas Howard has had great success in directing two episodes of The Mandalorian. Over the Christmas break I watched the show with my dad, sat on the sofa, fire lit, the chocolate Labrador curled up between us, peach vodka and diet lemonade in my hand, hot cup of tea in my dad’s. We binge watched both seasons in a week (it’s amazing) and he was shocked to see ‘Directed by Bryce Dallas Howard’ at the end of one, let alone two episodes. “Shit, she’s come far in the past few years” he said putting another episode on.

Bryce allowed me to find my best friend, Iz, through Instagram; Bryce has brought so many people together it is so surreal. And when I found out that Iz was going to Southampton University in 2019, a 20-minute drive from my house, I was finally able to meet her, because of one woman we both adore. I was friends with Iz for three years before I was able to meet her, I asked my school friend to come along with me so she could film the moment Iz, and I met! We got pancakes and watched the second Maleficent movie at the cinema, it was one of the best days of my life. I was so thankful that I met a truly hilarious and loving girl through this one actress! Because of Bryce Dallas Howard, I have made so many other friends from all over the globe as they too idolise Bryce and together we have created the ‘BDH online family’. A small group of us do regular zoom calls to catch up and chat about the recent photos and updates that Bryce has posted on Instagram, talk about Covid-19 and the types of restrictions and lockdown rules each of our countries has. During one of our calls, we had the craziest idea- Invite Bryce to one of our zoom calls. Bryce said yes! And after a few months of organisation, we had the date. The date was-

My.

Birthday.

The day came around and I was so nervous, it was 11pm exactly. The Wi-Fi had cut out fifteen minutes before the call. I was in tears. Mascara down my face, puffy eyes, I joined the call with a few minutes to spare before Bryce joined it. My mum hung around off camera for the first 5 minutes to double check the Wi-Fi was stable, luckily it stabilised. The other girls had never been so glad to see me, everyone was panicked for me; I could not miss it for the world (despite telling my parents, in floods of tears, that I cannot join and that it’s the end of that).

“Kat! You’re here!” “Happy birthday!” “Are you okay? The Wi-Fi sorted?”

They all chimed, happy to see my little face in the bottom right corner of their computer screens. Luckily Iz was there, otherwise it would have been extremely awkward with only one of us since we are known as a duo in the online family, we have to do everything together, we come in a pair and there can’t just be one of us.

“Shit girls, that was stressful”

I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until I exhaled the large breath when my    Wi-Fi settled, and I was on the call, I fixed my makeup and was ready to meet Bryce.

The few minutes we had before Bryce joined were intense, two of the girls left to get a drink and we weren’t sure if they would be back in time, luckily they did return.

“No way!” One of them, Anna who was hosting the call, gasped “Bryce is in the waiting room!”

We all freak for no more than 10 seconds, we compose ourselves then our faces are reshuffled, and we see this stunning glowing face that we all admire smiling at us. Omg, it's her.

“Hi girls!”

I have never smiled for so long in my entire life, my cheeks hurt afterwards. Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining at all, it just hurt as I thought I would only be smiling for half an hour, since that is how long we were told Bryce had. However, we were speaking to Bryce for nearly an hour and a half, she just kept talking and asked us questions! She was so lovely to talk to, so relaxed; it was if I was talking to a friend that I had known for years!

“Before we go I want to all sing Kat a happy birthday!”

My idol wanted to sing me a happy birthday! The other girls were really ecstatic for me, I still can’t believe to this day that The Bryce Dallas Howard wanted to sing to me!

It was both the best and the worst happy birthday song that has be sung to me. It was the best because, well my idol was singing to me! And proposed the singing! It was the worst in terms of the actual song as they were all out of sync and lagging, it was bloody hilarious!

At 10:27pm the next evening, watching a rerun of Game of Thrones on Sky, I got a notification ‘Brycedhoward just posted’, I clicked the notification then see our smiling faces on her page, she posted a screenshot of our call on her social media! The call was supposed to be a secret so other fans weren’t upset. There’s a few snotty comments on the post, but they’re just jealous and to be frank, I don’t care! My smiley face is on her page forever! All ten of us have printed the screenshot of Bryce’s post off and put it in a frame, one day all ten of us hope to congregate somewhere, most likely in America, and sign the backs of all of our photos. I’m still in utter awe and shock-  How many celebrities have you seen that would do a free zoom call with some fans? Not a lot, and that amount is even slimmer when they talk for an extra hour than scheduled. Bryce truly is one of a kind and the best idol anyone could ever hope to have.

Compared to a zoom call with Bryce herself, the few times she has liked my comments on her posts feel like nothing in comparison! I remember being so excited, running downstairs to my parents.

“Mum! Dad! Bryce liked my comment! She knows I exist!”

“Was it actually her? Remember when you got a Facebook request from Robert Downey Jr and it turned out it was a fake account?”

I rolled my eyes at her, it was Bryce, it was her verified account. The comment was a book recommendation I had for her, she posted on her hashtag BDHbookshelf and I thought I’d take a chance and comment a book recommendation I had for her, and the chance paid off.

I cannot wait to see what the future holds with Bryce, she has been such an inspiration to me for the past few years, and she promotes such wonderful causes and body positivity! I hope to one day meet her and thank her in person for changing my life for the better, and I think I’ve come up with the perfect opportunity to meet her- Iz and I have decided to travel up to London for the Jurassic World Dominion premiere in 2022 (if Covid lets us!), we’d get a hotel and actually meet Bryce in person, as well as meeting other members of the online family!

Words cannot fully contain the admiration that I possess for Bryce, her soul is utterly and truly exquisite, she has been such a visionary while I’ve been transitioning from a girl who had no idea who she was with no dreams or aspirations, to a woman who has now found so many new friends and now knows who she wants to be.  

[loverofdemoncorns]

How you feeling today after the Misha Megstiel video? I’m personally really glad he made one

Honestly, kinda shocked at the fallout and massive fandom upheaval it’s caused. The video was from my wonderful fellow shipper @xtexboyx to the equally lovely @inkbleeder with a little in-joke about owls. It was short, sweet and he looked so good and animated doing it and I really enjoyed it too.  Anyway, TW for abuse/suicide/bullying However, that said it has also revealed a lot of hypocrisy within the fandom and a lot of people saw it as an attack when it was literally a gift between friends that they wanted to share with other Megstiel shippers until h*llers got a hold of it and it blew up over socials. Hold on cos this is gonna be long and get kinda wild. It also worries me that a lot of younger fans are seemingly threatened by a difference of opinion over fictional characters and ships. It also again uncovered deeply held misogyny within the fandom where Meg cannot be forgiven despite her redemption arc, where as MoC Dean is forgiven and thought of as ‘hot’ for doing similar things.  I made a plea on twitter that I’m going to repeat here as someone studying psychology, it’s something that has disturbed me - and in all honesty when I was their age in a different fandom had been there myself and thankfully due to lack of socials realised how dangerous/toxic obsessions can be.  So my plea: The fans pressed over Misha's cameo to the Megstiel shippers & my friends: please seek help. Please don't let fiction get to you this much if it's affecting your mental health please speak to someone. I mean this sincerely. I've been there & It's not healthy & will only get worse.  It's nothing to be ashamed about - it's a form of hyperfixation and will end up making you really ill, depressed and removed from friends and family - which makes you easy to take advantage of. I am being honest - like seriously... it's hurting you without you realising. You need to learn to differentiate between fact and fiction - you need to learn that people in the world are going to have a difference of opinion - which in the long run if it’s fictional is harmless despite how it feels to you. These are actors playing a part, speaking the lines of other writers - there is no hidden subtext, the characters exist in a space that is there to be interpreted by the fans of the show - it’s not a major life changing discourse. You see yourself in a character? That’s great. But to deny others their right to relate to a character just makes you a gatekeeper and that’s not cool. That is how misogyny starts, how segregation starts and in the wider scheme of things, in the real world is how you become manipulated and conned by political and religious leaders and how ‘othering’ starts to happen.   When you start letting reality and fiction blend and get so hurt that there are threats to doxx, suicide bating, bullying, stalking and threats to kill, it’s then you have to take a step back and realise that this is consuming your life - that perhaps you need to maybe seek professional help. I mean I get it - when you’re young you think you know everything and you’ll fight to hold on and ‘prove’ others wrong... and yeah I know people are gonna think “Ugh, an adult has no right to tell me what to do” but this adult is only 34 - and has BEEN through an obsession with a ship (Farscape - John/Aeryn which was canon but still). Throw in the wonderful world of social media and you get adults preying on these vulnerable youngsters - siding with them, befriending them and gaining their trust which is where the issue lies and they could quite well end up being the victim.  There is also another element of the threats I’ve seen (again going back to the doxxing and suicide bating). They may think it’s a ‘joke’ and nobody will see it, but these are actually criminal acts in some countries - police could literally rock up at their door, give them a talking to, fine them or worse. It’s never a joke to doxx/suicide bate/harass etc.  I think the root of the issue is the attachment to characters and self-insertion and the false accusation that they’re doing it for ‘representation’ when there are other shows and other characters that will give you true LGBTQ+ rep rather than projecting onto two good-looking cis-het white males. By believing wholeheartedly that lighting/clothing/food and eye contact is ‘proof’ or rep of a ship is completely damaging and also stereotyping - it pushes the narrative that guys cannot have a platonic emotional bond with another guy because it’s “gay” which also perpetuates toxic masculinity and misogyny.  But this quote on my twitter feed caught my eye, and I’m starting to agree “I used to be concerned too, till I realised its already too late. They always have the option to come back to reality but always choose delusion instead. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. They're beyond help, and its a choice. I can't feel bad about it anymore”   Anyway, sorry for the long tangent - I loved the video, I loved that Megstiel got some love but I am sad for my friends that ordered/received this gift that parts of fandom have blown it way out of proportion. I’m happy it’s given others some happiness. 

[bigsteeb]

this is gonna be a long post so bear with me, growing pains got a b i g emotional reaction out of me & I need to share my thoughts & feelings about it because jesus fucking christ.

ok first things first, someone hug this boy immediately. he’s sat in his room, still in his pajamas, in day time watching dog copter. this whole scene is just steven going “lol I’m sad, I’m gonna comfort eat & stay in my pajamas & watch a kids show I watched when I wasn’t as sad haha” & it’s not only upsetting, but relatable too fuck. his room is a mess along with him eating ice cream at what I assume is morning… making it his breakfast? geez steven. also idk if it’s just me here but in this shot he looks… bigger? like ignoring his body size shifting later on in the episode he looks a lot wider than he usually does when paul & drew board episodes to me, he’s rivalling etienne & maya’s steven’s wideness. did he… get chubbier from comfort eating? how much time has passed since together forever for him to put on weight if he has? this could literally just be steven slouching or his pajamas making him look bigger but as someone who is an advocate for the body positivity shown in su & suf it has me curious. I want to hug this soft, sad boy. It could also be due to how steven’s design fluctuates through the animation process, it’s never really on model all the time. 

the grunting noise he makes in this scene is very distressing, as are other moments from the episode too. a glimpse at the glow-bracelet he proposed to connie with is enough to physically pain him? fuck me man. is he leaving his room where there’s already ice cream… to get more ice cream? sobs. also the puns in this shot. I cant? slow burn?! you’re evil crewniverse. not to mention his body size changing throughout this scene, god this poor lad.

screams, this was when I started worrying. the boy is now in an environment he has never been in before & is feeling extremely uncomfortable & vulnerable. look at the lines under his eyes, his sad eyebrows & pout I hate it. also don’t even get me started on this part. the slight raise of a voice being enough to send him into panic?! fuck I hate how much I relate to that. 

here’s where I immediately broke, no god damn pun intended. seeing steven’s skeleton, steven’s fucking skull, like this pained me. that crack on his skull is from fucking jasper in jail break. I can’t express all of the visceral emotions that were going through my body at this. there was intense sadness for steven, extreme anger at jasper & the gems for allowing shit like this to happen to him. turns out he’s not as resilient as we thought he was. each hit he takes physically breaks him & then his gem instantly heals his wounds, my heart fucking broke at this. think back to everything that happened to him, everything that physically hurt him. it broke him I can’t deal with it! then there’s what priyanka says to steven next;

“you seem to of made a series of miraculous recoveries, but that doesn't change the fact that you experienced trauma. you’ve recovered physically but, have you recovered mentally?”

this part here along with her reassuring him that there’s nothing wrong with his brain, how childhood trauma can have an impact on how your body responds to stress & how you act in your social life, the usage of the word “cortisol” too. this stuff being in a children's tv show is incredible. the writing for priyanka describes trauma simply enough for kids to understand, but for adults to fully realise too. folks, steven has ptsd. there wasn't one bit of sugarcoating about it or nothing, this is canon fact & it hurts me. for so long have I wanted steven’s emotional issues to be alked about, to not only be brought to steven’s attention but to the audience’s too.

everything that has happened to him has built up to this moment. this moment where his behaviour & coping methods are finally making sense to a large majority of the fandom, & to steven himself. he’s hurting; physically, mentally & emotionally, & he isn’t coping well what so ever about it. his emotional support system is complete garbage, no one regularly checks in on him & folks just take steven at face value like “oh yea glowing pink? he’s fine it’s just steven” but he’s the bad person?! I hope a lot of you out there who genuinely believe steven is a bad person re-think yourselves after this. dealing with trauma is tough as shit. some days you even wonder if that one thing that fucked you up is really worth being labelled as trauma. I still can’t believe this is the route they’re taking, if he doesn’t get some form of therapy by the end of future I’ll be furious.

then things begin to spiral as he remembers what happened with connie. he clutches his chest in pain & begins changing size over intense amounts of stress & it was extremely distressing to watch. steven immediately reassures connie that this isn’t because of her, but because of everything else that happened to him. however. I believe that that’s a slight lie, he wouldn’t of spiralled if he hadn’t of remembered the proposal, steven you fucking himbo. he continues to reassure them both that he’s fine, just that he needs them to leave so he can calm himself enough to control himself.

then this happens.

“I. CAN’T. BE AROUND YOU RIGHT NOW!”

this was fucking intense. he means this literally in 2 ways btw. his body size shifting over the stress he’s feeling is a danger to both connie & priyanka in this moment, but it’s also because of how it started. being around connie hurts him. he’s not mad at her though let me make that very clear, just that thinking about what happened when he tired to propose to her is sending his head in a fritz. he did what he did full of confidence in together forever, for connie to then make him realise how silly he was being. these two are destined for each other, but that advice from ruby & sapphire has really fucked with him. he looks up to those 2, looks up to garnet, their relationship is so strong & stable. for them to give him that advice & to then scream “DO IT!” in his face is incredibly tasteless imo.

then greg gets here. I knew connie was calling for either greg or the gems when she was on her phone as she left the room, fuck yea connie I love you. the breathless, strained “thank you” from steven towards connie for calling his dad? g o d. connie telling him she’ll be there for him when he’s ready?! g o d. these next boards were done by rebecca, I knew immediately when I saw steven’s face. it makes sense that rebecca boarded these, because fuck. 

how do I move on from all of the stuff I’ve been through? how do I live life if it always feels like I’m about to die!?

I’m tearing up as I type this. when I first heard the leak of this audio I so badly wanted to believe it, but to also believe it was fake too. I was an emotional mess off & on for about 3 days over it because I couldn't stop thinking about how fucking distressing it was. like… shit steven. he seriously feels this. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain he felt just saying this in front of his fucking dad. he is hurting badly. this boy, this sweet sweet boy we’ve watched grow & develop into the person he is today is distraught about his future & life. it is… soul crushing to watch this. a group of friends of mine have found joking about the episode as a form of coping with the intensity of it & as much as that’s valid as fuck, any joke coming from this episode feels morally wrong to me. I can’t bring myself to join in it feels terrible even thinking about laughing at it to cope. I love them all, but I can’t bare myself to join them. this moment ending with greg comforting steven, telling him he’s here for him & all of his struggles, got me weeping. greg is possible the best father figure I’ve seen on tv, let alone a kids tv show. he’s amazing.

the final scene right here is lovely. greg making steven a hot chocolate & listening to him vent, reassuring him over his worry for his future. this right here is exactly what steven needs. someone to talk to, someone he could trust to talk about his feelings to. this the start of his support system, tag on peri from in dreams, bis in bismuth casual as well as connie from the past few episodes & it’s already looking great! even when greg eased him about being there for him steven still feels guilty about him leaving his tour, leaving his tour because he got a phone call from connie about his son being in need & steven feels guilty about it. fucking hell man. I did enjoy how the episode ended though, with that little moment between the both of them;

“just get some rest kiddo. you don’t have to solve all of your problems in one night.”

“yea. thanks dad.”

it’s a great message too, all of your struggles can’t be dealt with all at once. I’ve used a similar analogy before but it’s like removing a dead tree. you have to deal with all of the little things surround this issue first before you get to the deep, harder stuff. along side the message about trauma they’re both very important messages, I’m glad they exist in the show.

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

one more thing before I end my thoughts & feelings over growing pains.

this ending shot;

as soon as I saw the frog mug my mind raced back to the promo for this scene, & this whole moment to come entirely. if you remember this moment has the first set of leaked audio within it, the audio of the gems basically cornering steven about him not opening up to them. christ pearl even gets mad at him for his gem building a wall behind him, protecting him from them. it’s common knowledge, I hope, that steven’s gem reacts to his emotional state. pearl herself has said this;

“I think your gem is reacting to your state of mind.”

his gem building this wall? it felt like steven was being threatened by them. this scene now has awful connotations with it. because since we now know what the pink mode is doing to steven, how actually painful it is, think back to these;

yea. fuck the gems. I’ll let it slide if steven, greg or priyanka haven’t told them about what happened at the hospital. but if they do know, if they know how much it hurts steven being in his pink mode & still press into him about it I’ll see red. with steven’s trauma & now ptsd being cemented into the show I fucking hope garnet, amethyst & pearl get held accountable for what they put on him as a kid. that shit will not slide with me if they don’t. do not condone what the gems put him through. do not condone the gems for making steven feel like he had to be his mum for them. just… don’t. please.

[amorgansgal]

The Only Compass I Need

Well as you've all been good VDL-gang hoes and as it's my birthday today as promised here's my longer fic for Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character. It's been edited and checked by my lovely partner, but I will always appreciate any comments or feedback. Hope you all have a wonderful day and thank you for making this fandom always such a delight to be in!

Summary: Ruth Shelton has been running with the Anderson Boys for many years, but when she and her daughter, Daisy, are abandoned in a snowy cabin in the West Grizzlies, she must come to terms with being left behind by people she thought she could trust and rely on. Determined to keep herself and her daughter alive, she will do anything it takes to ensure a better future for Daisy, but runs into trouble and has to rely on another gang to keep them safe.

Rating: Explicit

You can read it on AO3 too!

‘Ma?’ Daisy looked up from the newspaper she was busy colouring in, and Ruth tried not to close her eyes in frustration. Daisy had asked her the same question almost every night, just before dinner, ‘When’s Pa coming back?’

Ruth poked the remnants of the fire in the grate, willing the small, crackling flame to finish cooking the rabbit she had trapped. She didn’t risk gathering more wood with the evening rapidly growing dark. In the small, run down cabin the frigid wind of the West Grizzlies whistled through the gaps in the walls. Outside the first few flakes of a spring snow storm drifted lazily through the navy-blue sky.

She pulled the moth-eaten blanket they had found abandoned in one of the bedrooms around her and her daughter’s shoulders. She tried to ignore the twisting, painful feeling in her gut and the hot burn of tears that found their way to her eyes. How dare he, how dare he leave his daughter.

Two weeks. For two weeks they had sat in this cramped, dirty, broken little hut and waited. She had wondered after the first week whether he was dead or injured. She still liked to think the best of Frans, even though the man was unkind and impatient with her, and had cared so little for his daughter that on good days he would ignore her and on worse days shove her away. But by the time they reached the second week, with no one from the gang even attempting to find her, she realised that they’d been abandoned. Perhaps Frans hoped that the cold weather or starvation would get rid of a problem he could no longer stomach.

‘I don’t think he’s coming back,’ Ruth replied, her voice flat and distant. She coughed a little, clearing her throat, Daisy didn’t need to see or hear her mother’s resentment or pain.

‘Oh,’ came Daisy’s response. She resumed colouring in a picture of a man wearing a top hat, choosing a vibrant green for him.

Ruth poked the rabbit on the small grill, and sighed. Perhaps she was still clinging onto the vague hope that Frans might change his mind. Daisy seemed to idolise the man, no matter how poorly he treated her, and Ruth wanted her daughter to be right about him.

‘Tonight, we’re going to pack up what we can,’ Ruth said. ‘Then tomorrow we’ll ride Freyja somewhere warmer. If your father wants to find us, he will do.’

‘But Pa said to stay here.’

‘Well, he can’t expect us to stay with the cold weather coming in, and there’s very little food here. He’ll understand.’

‘How will he know where we’ve gone? We can’t leave him a note.’

‘We can leave him a message. He’ll just have to find someone else who can read it for him. Hopefully, when he turns up Edgar or Josef will be with him.’

‘Why hasn’t Edgar come?’ Daisy asked, scratching her nails against the waxy, green crayon. Ruth pulled it from her hands.

‘Don’t do that, they were expensive. I don’t know.’

Daisy began to draw wiggly lines under the words in the paper, the yellowing pages now being covered with purple, red and blue. She looked back up, ‘Ok.’

‘I’ve always promised to tell you the truth, haven’t I?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, I would tell you, if I knew where your father was, if I knew where Edgar was or if I knew where anyone was.’

Daisy carefully put her red crayon down on the page, then began to put the crayons back in the little tin she kept all her priceless possessions in. A dried daisy flower from Edgar, a blue-green marble she had found in Blackwater and a yellow, silk ribbon dotted with daisies that Ruth had brought her for her birthday last year.

Not for the first time, Ruth felt the twinge of guilt that always followed when seeing the few treasured items in Daisy’s tin. She wanted to give Daisy a home, a proper home with her own bedroom and toys, clothes that fit her properly, a warm fireplace and a door that could be locked and bolted shut.

‘Dinner will take a while, Sweetpea, you don’t have to put away your things just yet.’

‘Oh,’ Daisy said once more. ‘Well, can I help?’

‘There ain’t much to do, rabbit will be done in a bit.’

Daisy pulled up the newspaper and sat down in front of Ruth. The girl squinted at it with her light blue eyes in the low light, and began to read aloud the main story, sounding out the words she was unfamiliar with. ‘Bank boat… he… he--is--t? Ma, what’s a he--is--t?’

‘A he--is--t?’ Ruth glanced down at the newspaper, trying to figure out what her daughter was looking at. ‘Oh, a heist. It means a robbery.’

‘Like what Pa does?’

‘Yes,’ she looked back down to the story, to see if it was the Anderson Boys who were involved, but as she read, it became clear it was about the Van Der Linde Gang rather than her own. She frowned at the idea of still claiming the gang as her own. Evidently Anderson was not too heart-broken about her disappearance, despite how long she had been running with them. But then Anderson often called her a damned fool for getting in the family way and hadn’t exactly tried to keep her around. Perhaps it was better this way, to be abandoned and left to her own devices rather than trailing behind, trying to pretend that the group she had once called her family still cared for her.

The rabbit was done… charred on the outside, bloody in the middle. But when had that ever bothered her? Certainly, Daisy had learnt long ago that an empty belly was a far worse fate than a dissatisfied one. She tried to get Daisy to part with a bit of the newspaper, so she could lay the best bits on it for her and cause less of a mess when using her fingers to tear at the meat.

While Ruth gnawed at what remained on the bones, she checked their supplies. Two cans of beans, one can of peaches and a tin of crackers. They would share one tin of beans for their breakfast tomorrow, then they would have to hope she could catch or kill something for their midday meal, and assuming she could find the way, arrive in Valentine by four or five. She was banking on the weather being good, and the roads clear, otherwise it could take them longer and she had no desire to spend a cold night in unfamiliar woods.

She packed away the supplies, then made sure the repeater and pistols she carried were cleaned and loaded correctly. Ruth frowned on seeing how few bullets she had left in the box of ammo. This was going to be a rough few days. Every shot she could make would have to be perfect, no matter whether it was man or beast at the end of the sights.

She also double-checked how much money they had left, perhaps hoping the amount would increase on the next count. It would be better if she could get her daughter a warm bath and a hot meal when they arrived, even if she couldn’t afford a bed for the night. Ruth tried to not let the hiss of irritation pass between her lips. Anderson had always been insistent that any money made was money for the group, and while that had meant she could dip in and out of the funds box with relative ease, it had come back to bite her.

Her last job had pulled $150, but the vast majority of that had ended up in the box. Now she was looking at the grand total of ten years of loyalty and very few complaints from her, no matter how poorly her daughter was treated. She had $8.05.

‘We might have to do a coach job when we get to Valentine,’ she said.

Daisy pulled a face, a deep frown appearing on her forehead. ‘Do we have to?’

‘Do you want to eat?’

‘Can’t we just eat deer?’

‘No, it’s not good to eat nothing but meat.’

‘But I’m getting bigger now. I don’t want to pretend to be a little kid who cries.’

‘You just have to put your hands over your eyes and pretend. You’re so good at it! And it means Mama doesn’t have to shoot anyone.’

Ruth finished the last bits of rabbit on her side of the newspaper and looked at the peaches, tempted to break into them and at least give her daughter something sweet to eat. But there was no guarantee they would even reach Valentine tomorrow, especially with how strong the wind was howling and how quickly the temperature was dropping.

Daisy nestled closer under the blanket and picked up some more of the rabbit. ‘Who have you shot, Mama?’

‘Lots of people, who wanted to hurt me or you, Edgar or Josef or Anders.’

‘And Pa?’

Ruth wiped her dirty hands on her handkerchief, leaving streaks of grease on the discoloured material. She avoided her daughter’s eye as she replied, ‘Sure, your Pa too.’ In her head she found herself thinking, ‘wish I hadn’t bothered, bastard didn’t deserve my protection.’

She used a corner of the newspaper to clean the grease away from Daisy’s mouth, then grabbed a comb from her bag. She sat Daisy on her lap and began to gently untangle the knots at the end of her hair, before working upwards to the crown of her head and brushing through Daisy’s beautiful, golden brown hair.

At first, admittedly, it had hurt to see how much Daisy took after her father in looks, but they couldn’t be more different. Whilst her father was dismissive, callous and cowardly, Daisy was sweet, kind and brave. Braver than most kids her age, though Ruth wished she didn’t have to be.

She carefully plaited Daisy’s long hair, admiring the soft strands between her fingers, and finished off their little ritual by giving her a kiss on her cheek and then tickling her ribs. Daisy squealed and giggled, trying to bat away Ruth’s hands and yet still cuddling close once she was done.

‘Still little enough for that then?’ Ruth asked.

‘Hmph,’ came her daughter’s response and Ruth hid her smile. She felt torn, part of her was excited to see how much her daughter would change and grow over the years. But another part longed to go back to when she had been a baby, when her cheeks had been round and soft, and Ruth had easily spent the best part of her days pressing kisses to them. What did it matter that Frans was fucking whores and spending his money on drink and cards, when she had a baby in her arms, whose steady, sweet eyes gazed up at her with all the adoration and love she needed?

Another part, a part she tried not to think about, was terrified. What kind of a life was this for a child? Running from the law, hiding in abandoned houses and cabins, stealing and cheating to keep them both fed? This life was dangerous for anyone at the best of times, but for a child even more so. Daisy’s young age would not stop the law from punishing her, no matter how little choice she had in growing up in a gang and running schemes with her mother. But it was either involve Daisy, or leave her in a cave or up a tree, and that didn’t necessarily mean she was any safer, especially if someone were to find her.

She pushed away those thoughts; it wasn’t helpful to dwell on their situation. She hoped to be a good moral guide later in life for her daughter, but right now she would have to continue to be a hypocrite.

‘Bed time, Daisy,’ she said.

Daisy didn’t make a word of protest, as she was occasionally keen on doing, and took off her boots, before climbing into Ruth’s bedroll. Ruth joined her; it was too cold for their separate beds. While Daisy snuggled up against her, pulling the cover over head, Ruth threw their last remaining wood on the fire.

She grabbed her pistol and repeater, leaving the repeater next to the bedroll, but holding the pistol tightly. She kept her eyes on the front door, which they blocked with the dining table during the evenings. She had moved the wardrobe from the main bedroom to block the back door, and so felt comfortable enough to sleep with their backs to it.

She did her best to keep her eyes open, resisting sleep for as long as possible, until she drifted off and then woke with a sudden jolt to find the piercing, white light of a new day filtering between the bits of rotten wood and around the edge of the door.

[tsc-living]

So up until a few days ago, the number of blogs I followed was 176. This figure hadn’t changed for some time, and I always kept tabs on this - for no particular reason - I just liked to be organised with the running of my blog. Now the day came when I noticed the number being reduced to 175, which is strange because I hadn’t unfollowed anyone recently. I didn’t think too much on it, assuming the person (whoever it was), deactivated.

But just today, I was searching for CC’s blog, to access an ask she had regarding the Jordelia whispering room scene. There was this one particular ask where she revealed she might write it from James’s perspective. And I wanted to go through the reblogs to understanding who was for/against it, to determine where majority of the tumblr fandom stood on the subject - given a few of my mutuals/ people I follow, already expressed their displeasure after it was released last Thursday. But I suddenly realised that she blocked me.

It was then I put the pieces together. Yes, I enjoyed some books from TSC in the past. But I’d been critical about TLH (in terms of poc rep), within the past few months - even being vocal about my inability to finish CHOI because the storyline might’ve been interesting - but I hadn’t been able to connect with TLH gang (in terms of their characterisation and arcs - this is mostly in relation to Alastair, Anna and Kamala btw).

Bare in mind that in all my criticisms, I’ve been careful not to tag her, her book titles or her characters. Most of the time, I hadn’t tagged anything at all. The only people who would’ve accessed my commentary were my mutuals and followers. And I made it pretty clear from the get-go last year, that my opinions on CC and her books were nuanced. So unless you followed me, or followed someone who reblogged my posts, you’d have to actively seek out my blog to see these critiques. I didn’t think a lot of people had time to pay attention to mine, that is. But I guess that’s how CC’s rolling these days.

Not once had I said anything derogatory about her - just that her rep (or the lack of accuracy in it), was poor. Believe me, the last thing I EVER want to do is vilianise one of the few Jewish writers in YA lit. But those who hold a large audience and platform, hold huge responsibilities as well. I wasn’t shouting into the void or anything, because a lot of my fellow poc, agreed with me. Nor was I making open-ended statements because, not only did I say that her rep was bad, I suggested ways it could’ve improved. But if blocking is CC’s only strategy to avoid critiques (a VERY clear distinction from ‘hate’), it seems like a cowardice move on her part.

Okay so Cassandra out here blocking people who disagree with her now lmfao. Is she like,,, looking for blogs to block? Wild. Anyway, sorry she did that but you're better off my dude 💕

Update: I haven't been blocked by CC so there's that.

[rainingpouringetc]

So up until a few days ago, the number of blogs I followed was 176. This figure hadn’t changed for some time, and I always kept tabs on this - for no particular reason - I just liked to be organised with the running of my blog. Now the day came when I noticed the number being reduced to 175, which is strange because I hadn’t unfollowed anyone recently. I didn’t think too much on it, assuming the person (whoever it was), deactivated.

But just today, I was searching for CC’s blog, to access an ask she had regarding the Jordelia whispering room scene. There was this one particular ask where she revealed she might write it from James’s perspective. And I wanted to go through the reblogs to understanding nd who was for/against it, to determine where majority of the tumblr fandom stood on the subject - given a few of my mutuals/ people I follow, already expressed their displeasure after it was released last Thursday. But I suddenly realised that she blocked me.

It was then I put the pieces together. Yes, I enjoyed some books from TSC in the past. But I’d been critical about TLH (in terms of poc rep), within the past few months - even being vocal about my inability to finish CHOI because the storyline might’ve been interesting - but I hadn’t been able to connect with TLH gang (in terms of their characterisation and arcs - this is mostly in relation to Alastair, Anna and Kamala btw).

Bare in mind that in all my criticisms, I’ve been careful not to tag her, her book titles or her characters. Most of the time, I hadn’t tagged anything at all. The only people who would’ve accessed my commentary were my mutuals and followers. And I made it pretty clear from the get-go last year, that my opinions on CC and her books were nuanced. So unless you followed me, or followed someone who reblogged my posts, you’d have to actively seek out my blog to see these critiques. I didn’t think a lot of people had time to pay attention to mine, that is. But I guess that’s how CC’s rolling these days.

Not once had I said anything derogatory about her - just that her rep (or the lack of accuracy in it), was poor. Believe me, the last thing I EVER want to do is vilianise one of the few Jewish writers in YA lit. But those who hold a large audience and platform, hold huge responsibilities as well. I wasn’t shouting into the void or anything, because a lot of my fellow poc, agreed with me. Nor was I making open-ended statements because, not only did I say that her rep was bad, I suggested ways it could’ve improved. But if blocking is CC’s only strategy to avoid critiques (a VERY clear distinction from ‘hate’), it seems like a cowardice move on her part.

wowowow

that is a LOT to unpack wow ok

that’s... very messed up. i keep coming back to all the times cc has claimed to try to represent people w her books that don’t normally get representation. but it seems like every time we try to tell her ‘hey here’s a better way u could represent us’ or ‘actually this representation isn’t actually good for us like u think’ she turns around and tells us that it’s HER books and she can decide what she writes

it just seems very hypocritical of her

and don’t get me wrong, i fully believe that for most people blocking ppl you don’t want to interact with or see on your dash is healthy and creates the best possible tumblr experience, but i also think it’s different when you’re a fandom blog spending lots and lots of time on tumblr every day and creating friendships and making content etc vs if you’re an author just using the site to promote your books. there’s a different level of responsibility that you’re held to, whether it’s fair or not to her.

there’s a quote that comes to mind: “you can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time”. there are ALWAYS going to be ppl who don’t agree with the books or downright dislike them. blocking ppl who disagree w those books tho is definitely from my view just what you said above: a cowardice move. and yeah. that sounds kinda harsh. but how long have we been screaming about our representation? how long will we have to continue screaming about it? it’s getting really old, trying to hold authors accountable for their works. it’d be nice if just one of them would listen.

ty for bringing this to my attention babe

[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 4: We’ve got heads on sticks

Your name is Thom Yorke. You’ve just released what is considered one of the best albums of the 90s, if not of all time, and you’ve achieved a level of fame that at least one band member considers akin to the Beatles. Through the release of OK Computer, you’ve proven that even if people are pretty much over Oasis at this point, British rock bands still rule the airwaves. You’re also stressed the fuck out over just about all of this, and having a very hard time accustoming to the life of a celebrity- let alone the usual mental health issues.

What will you do?

Apparently, the answer was to write the fourth album to be as far away from the previous few as possible, seeking influence from IDM groups like Aphex Twin, jazz stuff, and just some bizarro instruments and experimentation and leaving a lot of the “rock” stuff behind. The primary genre listed for Kid A is usually Electronica or Ambient, with various off-kilter rock subgenres lagging behind, crying “you’re still gonna do guitars and stuff, right?”

Well…not as much anymore. But this era of Radiohead, this career-suicidal swerve, still proved monumentally successful, and showed that the band still had it, and that sometimes artistic risks do pay dividends.

A side note: I usually link music videos for the tracks I discuss as part of each post, as you’ll have seen in previous parts of this series. Kid A, however, doesn’t have any singles, and it sure doesn’t have any music videos. So…maybe just listen yourself. I’m probably in over my head here anyway.

I think the first 5 notes of Everything In Its Right Place are some of the most iconic in all of music.

Some personal background- Kid A was the first Radiohead I ever listened to. A particular cool and good mate of mine was a fan in high school, but I’d never listened to them at all, and I trusted his opinion musically, so I went to buy one of their CDs the next time I was at the shop. And for whatever reason, the cheapest one was Kid A at 10 bucks, and I didn’t want to gamble more than that, so that’s the one I got.

So the opening notes of Everything In Its Right Place were the first Radiohead I ever heard. And considering how much I obsessed over this band, in high school and beyond, it’s no surprise that this song is one of my favourites.

Not only did this song introduce me to Radiohead, it was effectively a gateway track for electronic music in general. This was the early 10s, and the majority of what I knew as electronic stuff was the EDM that was drowning the airwaves at the time. I hated that stuff out of principle, because being a hipster like that was definitely a personality. I don’t think I would ever have gotten into Vaporwave, into IDM, or into any electronic music the way I eventually would were it not for Everything In Its Right Place.

Now that I’ve spent 250 words talking about myself and not the actual song, we should probably stop that. Everything In Its Right Place is defined by this steady build of layering vocals and effects onto the relatively calm synth line, distorted vocals and word salad lyrics and manipulated noises growing and getting more chaotic before it just stops- the vocals fade out, the effects drop, and you’re left with the synth line- except it’s been slowly changing itself the whole time, and you don’t realise because you’ve been distracted by everything else at the same time.

It’s worth noting (and I don’t know if this was the case with OK Computer, because I don’t have an original copy of that one) that this was an album without liner notes, without the lyrics in the cover booklet. But at least in this case, the lyrics don’t matter as much as the v i b e. At least, that’s what I think.

On the topic of unintelligible lyrics, Kid A has a title track! I believe literally two Radiohead albums do this, the other being The Bends (though Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows do appear as lyrics). The song itself is an ambient, quiet piece that feels something like a twisted nursery tune- incredibly affected vocals, a syncopated (?) percussion, and a synth (I think???) that…I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels nursery-rhyme-y. If you’ve heard this song a few times, or you know what to listen for, you can piece together the lyrics somewhat- and they are, frankly, kind of unsettling. What is standing in the shadows at the end of your bed, can it please leave? And imagery of the Pied Piper is always either extremely silly or extremely unnerving, with this clearly leaning towards the latter. There’s a lot going on here- especially for a track most probably wouldn’t listen to outside the context of the full album. I know I generally don’t- not the kind of thing I generally am in the mood for.

 We’re at 850+ words, and we’re only up to The National Anthem? Fuuuuck. Well, anyone who wasn’t on board the IDM train can at least appreciate this one more, it’s got an actual bassline. A killer one, at that, that drives the whole track. Well, you know, that and the B R A S S. Seriously, it sounds like they invited a marching band to this bad boy. The combination ends up sounding mostly like controlled chaos, a jazz band traffic jam wound together by that B A S S. But the bass can’t hold it forever, and eventually that shit breaks free and just, it just honks all over the place.

I’m frustratingly running out of things to say about this song I really like, as opposed to the other songs I really liked. Unfortunately, ya boi forgot to take his neurotypicalification pills today, and so I’m getting very distracted. Hopefully, that slightly unhinged nature suits the album somewhat.

The next song, How To Disappear Completely, is a Big Mood with a fun story attached. The main lyrics- I’m not here, this isn’t happening- were allegedly something none other than Michael Stipe from R.E.M. told Thom to help him deal with that massive stage fright that came with Getting Big. Fun trivia aside, this song is gorgeous, luscious with massive strings, an acoustic bend, aethereal vocals, and a background drone running through the thing that makes sure your hair is always a little on end through the thing. It’s a song whose lyrics are an attempt to escape anxiety, whose instrumentation serves more to reinforce it- a calm, melodic piece that builds into nervous swells and threatening strings. A song about fighting your fear, and losing.

Fuck me it’s a bit depressing isn’t it. It’s potentially the most emotionally revealing song the album has- a lot of the lyricism on other tracks is more metaphorical, or subtle, but the meaning in How To Disappear Completely is evident even just from the title. You get lost in the strings and they go from calming, to imposing, to downright menacing (and then back again) in the song’s final minute.

Treefingers, on the other hand, has a lot less to say, and by that I mean it’s an instrumental. A very atmospheric, ambient one, and thereby one I don’t have a lot to say about. I’m not sure I’m particularly good at commenting on regular music, but this kinda thing is a whole different animal. I have no idea how to interact with discussing this. I like it? I will say, that one note right at the end, that echoes for a bit, the one piece of clarity in this muddled, reverbed sphere, feels especially poignant, for reasons I cannot describe.

We go from ambient instrumental to arguable the most rock-song-like track on this album, Optimistic, certified banger that it is. Some might argue that it doesn’t fit here, but like, did they even hear the lyrics? The bridge? It more that deserves its place on one of the best albums around. The little way the guitar scales up during the chorus is excellent, the proggy drums and riffs are glorious, it’s just a very good rock song.

Also this is the first song with the lyric “dinosaurs roaming the earth”, which, aside from being a bit of a non-sequitur, would return two albums later. And I’m really looking forward to that one.

In Limbo is a song I kind of always forget exists until I hear it again. It’s antimemetic, the way the song goes slipping from my mind until I hear those opening notes again. I’m going to be honest, it’s probably because it’s also the most mid song on the album. Far from bad, but it isn’t doing anything that How to Disappear Completely or Optimistic aren’t doing better. If I had to remove any track from this album, it might be this one?

Watch me get fucking lynched from the fandom for that one, if I ever post this to r/Radiohead or whatever. Which I might, though as much as I’d like more people to read my things I’m also extremely anxious about the potential response. Like the album I’m discussing today, I’m terrified of fame.

Incidentally, In Limbo is also the shortest track on the album (Treefingers beats it by 11 seconds), though this isn’t initially obvious online at least, because people keep messing with Motion Picture Soundtrack. But we’re not there yet, hang on.

We go from the forgettable (to me) In Limbo to the utterly mesmerizing Idioteque. Anxious but danceable, confusing but emotive, messy but tightly controlled. I love this fucking song to death. The reason I got the particular Radiohead poster that I did was because it has lyrics from this on it.

I’ve heard that lyrics for this album were largely pulled from a hat, and nowhere is that more clear than here (or maybe Everything In Its Right Place). Despite this, there’s a pretty clear theme in them, a continuation of some of the themes of this and the last albums. A condemnation of wealth and cowardice in the face of ecological disaster. In the form of an apocalypse disco.

What a lot of people don’t know about this track is that it actually samples an extremely old electronic music piece- one written in 1973, on a particularly old computer. The track, mild und leise, is a very interesting track considering its age- I’m reminded of Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin- not so much musically, but about how that reason was as influential as it was because it was the first time songs had sounded like that, because it was the first time songs could sound like that- I suppose it’s somewhat similar in that way, if older. These pieces and their composers inexorably linked by the allure of technology, and how that could be used to define new eras in music history- in Radiohead’s case, it certainly defined the next few albums in their lifespan.

Jesus mild und leise is long, it’s still going as I write this. I need to get back to Kid A, man!

Idioteque leads directly into Morning Bell, admittedly another less memorable song. Largely percussion lead, plenty of falsetto, and with a very unsubtle theme if you listen to the lyrics. I recall seeing someone saying that “cut the kids in half” was a really surprising and spooky line, and, yeah, sure, it sort of is, but it’s only particularly bad if you don’t pay attention for the rest of it. It’s about divorce, dude, it’s not subtle.

Or apparently not, according to one interview, but Thom said the interpretation isn’t invalid, so haha still winning baybeeeee.

I think the only part of this I really can’t do without is the outro, because the last minute and a half of this song is really cool. The mumbled lyrics go really well with the rising percussion and eerie effects that end the track.

Our final song is Motion Picture Soundtrack, or, Exit Music (for Walt Disney’s Depression Nap). This and Street Spirit I think are what really cement Radiohead’s reputation for brutal closers, both of them being tragic but hauntingly beautiful in different ways. In this case, it’s the instrumentation- glittering harps attempting the echo 50s Disney. There’s actually a version of this song from the OK Computer era with extremely different instrumentation, piano rather than organ, and no harps (and a third verse that is utterly brutal). Regardless, this is the song they chose to close the apocalypse that Kid A is on- the final lyric being “I will see you in the next life”, as the glittering echoes into the night. Poignant and tragic, but a little hopeful- the next life hopefully won’t have the struggles and pain of this one.

And then, of course, there’s the hidden track. Nicknamed Genchildren by some (that’s just the username of the dude who uploaded it to Napster back in the day), officially known as Untitled, and the true closer to the album. With Spotify slapping it right at the end of Motion Picture Soundtrack, it’s not clear the true nature of this song- it’s actually hidden on the original album, after several minutes of silence, just long enough that you’ve forgotten you left the player running (or you’re still crying from Motion Picture Soundtrack). I don’t think there’s a real word for what this sounds like other than heavenly, and incredibly brief piece I’ve heard compared to the pearly gates. After all, if we end on “I will see you in the next life”, then what can this be but that?

 Thus closes Kid A, a gorgeous and powerful album, yet an insane swerve for any rock band to pull, not just Radiohead. A bold strategy, and yet it paid off for them- Kid A would not only be massively influential, it was also massively successful both critically and commercially- but not to the standard of OK Computer before it. But they obviously weren’t trying to do OK Computer part 2, just as that album was deliberately not The Bends part 2.

Kid A would pretty much get a Part 2, though, less than a year later. And it’s that album we’ll be discussing next week, obviously. Until then.

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

hehe glad i could make you laugh, oooh that sounds awesome! yeah id love to be tagged it sounds great :)

YES the differences are so fucking weird. like, they do know they're the same age right? i feel like its just an exagguration of how much the persons role in the group matters, like we see chan being held up as such a mature, old leader while jungkook who is literally the same age, is still babied etc. like enha hyung line is basically the same age (if a bit younger) as chenle and jisung but somehow the rules are different?? as you point out, still legal but still bizarre. hehe yeah, i mean where else are we going to rant? quora lol. mmm, hopefully more people can just write less smut abt people who are barely adults

ah, no prob it didnt take long. yeah i think thats right (i keep forgetting you know my url lol) mmhmm :( i think if that happened irl there would be some major trauma going on. knock wood it never happens to you or me lol (/hj)

hehe same! oooh glad Redemption For Cheese was realised! yess we cant rllycomplain that theyve written/produced too much good music lol. yeah, ive dragged him into being a stay so *dusts hands off* mission accomplished. mmm yeah, they tend to have a certain vibe but tbh it couldve worked if they were any other group but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ahh ur one step ahead of me on the stages of listening to ssick i think, still not convinced but thats okay! hehe, it had to be said. yesss the itch in the back of my brain is very satisfied by sorry i love you, felixs vocals deserve to be appreciated! (side note i feel like hes trying to sing more like his speaking voice, sorta husky, but tbh i wouldnt be mad if he sang like in glow, his sweet honey vocals made my life lol. but i think ive heard him say he doesnt like singing like that cos it makes his normal voice less husky, so what can you do)

> YES SOMEONE SAID IT. seungmin rap KING, he sped thru that rap like it was nothing, he deserves more rap lines. i do like how they gave minho some melodic rap lines this comeback, my guy deserved to show off those skills that made him not be eliminated (flashbacks to stay collectively wanting to murder jyp) and we already know changbin can sing, my man murdered masked singer. hyunjin can obviously sing as can jisung and felix, and i want to hear chan rap more! i feel like he started as part of 3racha (as a rap unit not producing) and then just became a vocalist (which im fine with, but it could be nice to hear him flex his rapping skills) and was partially replaced by hyunjin. anywayyy

back to album talk. lmaooo sad music to twerk to PERFECTLY describes silent cry. yes secret secret is and will always be, a masterpiece. hehe glad i could make you laugh :) i just felt like they have similar vibes. putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised. oh my beloved track, red lights. ahh thats okay, we can have different opinions, but by god the lyrics are *chefs kiss*. *banging on table* TWISTED AU TWISTED AU TWISTED AU. yess id love to see ur take on it! sdfghjkl it would have been glorious

no no! not stupid, just able to predict my brainwaves. ooooh thats so cool! makes me want to go there (wherever there is lol) yeah the waves are pretty good here, but none of my familys a surfer, so we dont rlly enjoy the full potential lol. YES moving on to gone away, it is indeed a heartwrenching track, but the vocals and the bloody key change? makes me want to brave being sad just to listen to it. mmm yeah, good point :( i feel like ive just gotten used to overthinking so much so that it doesnt matter what mood im in, ill do it anyway, so might as well just do what i feel like doing anyway.

yeah i think ur right! it is quite comforting knowing that all the tracks will get the love they deserve. i feel like also people assume kpop is just one genre which is utter bs. there are so many different vibes and feels and songs, i couldnt get into kpop (of which i thought only the bright cheerful present day bts stuff existed smh) until i heard gods menu so... idk where i was going with this but yeah. :)

YES FUCK YG, theyre literally on the brink of being kicked out of the big three and they are holding their salvation hostage without letting them do ANYTHING. idek what thought process goes thru their minds but arghhh its so infuriating. yess lisa's cb will be awesome but ot4 is the gold standard here.

hehe, glad u could get to this point. no no! u dont sound like a cult member at all lol yeah, i loooove some of their songs but the whole 23 members thing is getting to me. thats prob a common problem with nctzens but what can i say? im a simple girl with a limit to how many korean boys i can give my money to. atm im just trying to get into ateez and finish memorising enhypen's faces. also kard is kinda sucking me into their fandom atm, as well as eric name lol. ah what can you do? ooh thats good!

hehe i love it too! its exactly like online penpals, that was rlly well put. aww ty! hmm im okay, recovering from a bad case of rsv so thats fun. im doing okay mentally, starting therapy soon (after having to convince my mother that its not just smth i can brush off). physically i wont go into, basically i should be doing stretches to help but they dont completely fix it so my lazy ass doesnt do them, plus i got told recently im going to be stuck with this condition for the rest of my life so thats fun! ah, before you type smth dw abt me ill be fine. the weather atm is cloudy but warm, its been raining on and off today which is good for the garden. uhh i just finished reading sunburnt veils and im in the middle of prom theory which is rlly good. ummm ive got a concert tonight? that i may or may not be able to sing in (bc of the whole rsv thingo) and uhhhh idk. my dog is cute? im drinking tea rn? ive got a school dance coming up?

wbu? hows ur day going, how are you? whats the weather like on ur end? done anything interesting lately? found smth that makes you rlly happy? just any random thing youve been dying to tell someone?

no no! dont apologise, i love these exchanges. i think im happy to continue them for a long time :) on the other hand, if you get tired of them, feel free to just not answer at any time. goodness gracious this was a long ask haha hope it isnt too annoying

<3 w.a. 🐺

sorry it took me a bit to reply, i was fixing my theme ;n;

yeah, i figured it was because of the roles too. my friends and i still get taken aback when 3rd gen idols are the same age as 4th gen ones. in my head it doesn't add up sometimes. PLS THE RANT AT QUORA SKJDK tbh tho it's just going to be normalized as the years pass? esp that the boys are growing older and the amount of explicit fics will just increase. i might have to start blocking tags.

i had to look up the previous ask to remember what we were talking about xd i hope the events in champagne problems never happens to anyone. realistically, it probably happens a lot. damn i really won't wish that pain on anyone. dragging your brother into being a stay i whEEZED JFKSA additional noeasy music enthusiast o.o and ALL I CAN SAY WITH YOU GUSHING ABT FELIX IS AHA WHIPPEEEED OML can't blame you tho, i also want to hear felix sing more in other shades (if that makes sense HAHA) i really hope they'll do the role exchange in the next comeback :( or like in the near future bc i know they can do it :( the day i hear seungmin rapping it i will respectfully pass away. minho was given more lines this comeback thank fUCK i could rmb my irl being vocal abt her frustration. i don't get why minho barely has center time/lines in title tracks??? like the line distribution in the past eras just made me ???? if seventeen can balance lines with 13 members why cant a group of 8 do the same? moving on. i haven't watched the stray kids show simply bc i don't want to cry HAJS but i've seen clips. imagine if skz debuted without minho and felix?!?!? i rmb another irl catching bias feels towards changbin bc of the masked singer only to find out that the man's a rapper. i love how skz's vocals were highlighted this comeback :c there were a lot of mellow tracks! i find it cute when chan sings/raps bc it gets kinda obvious that he's a foreigner? the accent (im not even sure if it's the accent) it just shows. "putting off skz stuff bc of not having time to cry IS the kpop stan life summarised." CORRECT.

abt the twisted au o.O i'll inquire my irl if she wants to write it or not. if she doesn't want to, i'll do it. i miss writing twisted aus <3___<3 and i also miss going to the beach with my friends :' ) but it's starting to get cold here and i don't think i'll be able to enjoy the beach as much as i would if i went beaching in the summer. so maybe next summer? gone away really has an sm-ballad vibe. the thing about skz being a self-producing group, their songs don't sound like typical jype songs? and i just appreciate that bc in all honesty im not a fan of jyp groups at all. PLS the overthinking. i wish i could mute overthinking.

anyone who assumes kpop is just one genre obv hasn't listened to a single track. if kpop was just one genre why do i like some tracks more than the others??? oh you've only recently become a kpop stan? tbh im not a fan of the bright songs of bts either. i liked their older ones *chefs kiss* really matched high school vibes. yg has good artists and they're just wasting the talent ~.~ that strategy they have will get tiring eventually. people will stop waiting on blackpink and move on to newer more active groups ://

HAHAHAH yeah the 23 members is pretty overwhelming! it was the reason i didn't bother stanning before quarantine started. i don't regret stanning tho, met my ult bias in that group <3___<3 i don't really purchase albums unless i like the tracks xd ohhh getting into ateez just in time for the comeback! let me know what you think about them! i was fond of them at some point but grew out of it. good luck with memorizing enhypen! it took me a while to distinguish to people there XD i haven't checked out kard yet but chan plays their songs during lives and they're sexc hype music me likey *u*

i had to look up rsv im sorry. i'm glad you're recovering! please rest more and don't stress yourself out. bro i wish i could go to therapy too bc i have weird issues i can't justify and i need a professional to tell me what's the reason behind it. stuck with what condition btw? what happened? i'm sorry in case i just forgot. yesterday was a bit rainy for me too :(( it's not the type of rainy that makes me anxious so B) oh concert! good luck and i hope you'll be able to sing but i also don't think it's best for you rn :c what's your dog's breed? and yes i just finished drinking tea too. AAAAA i miss school dances :(( the last one i was supposed to have was cancelled bc of covid.

i was less productive today and i'm teetering between being mentally stable and becoming a hermit again. i'm anxious with a lot of things atm so like : D not the best state. today it was a bit sunny but not hot hot which was nice. i changed my theme today bc i couldn't wait for sept. 1st. and no i haven't found anything that makes me happy HAHAHA shit like that's hard to identify. don't have anything to say too, i'm just thinking about why i'm procrastinating too much atm T_T and i'm listening to this rap song atm and one of the rappers sounded like han.

it isn't annoying! i enjoy the long exchanges but i do admit it takes me awhile to type down a reply. so if i get more busy, it'll prolly take a bit longer for me to reply.