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#its the thought that counts in here
tiredflowercrown · 9 months
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Thank you! I do adore cottagecore
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isjasz · 10 months
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[Day 68]
More of the guys + cool glasses poses >:D
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egophiliac · 9 months
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just thinking about hair and faces
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collophora · 28 days
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Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness
(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)
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ajwahoocrowley · 4 months
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intotheelliwoods · 5 months
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You guys wanted to see some Raph, heres some Raph!
Masterpost
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smalldumbpigeon · 8 months
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yknow i have so many thoughts about the Lvl 70 DRK quest and i guess this is one of them
(dialogue from the quest, Count Edmont)
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charlie-artlie · 1 year
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misfithive · 4 months
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OH MY GOD S1 S2 S3 - we finally have them all and it’s so perfect I could cry.
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kaninchen-reblogs · 1 year
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the quick brown fox jumps over the hazy dog
(the dog is a stoner)
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tenderpreyy · 10 months
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​I’m thinking again about Astarions sexuality and how I've seen some people (to be fair, just a few) talk about it. Mainly, people pointing out his flamboyant behavior, and that us as players are learning more about his past male lovers than female ones and basically all these things for some people pointing to him being gay or at least not interested in women in the same way he is in men. And him only being a romance option regardless of gender, because, well, all companions are and he is therefore just "playersexual", only showing interest in female player characters because he has to, because of the game mechanics.
I think what really rubs me the wrong way about this topic is that it echoes the kind of things bi/pan people (speaking as a bisexual woman myself) find themselves dealing with irl. Whether through some form of internalized biphobia or from the outside through other people's comments. Of course this is about a fictional character so it’s not like he has any feelings that could be hurt. But when i see people tallying up how often he mentions men vs. how often he mentions women it really reminds me of a way of thinking I sometimes fall into in regards to my own sexuality. This is definitely just an internalized response and not something I actually believe when I truly think about it for a second, but I know these patterns of thought very well. Of observing my own behavior. How often do I find which gender attractive? Am I attracted "enough" to women? Do I talk about men's attractiveness too often? Is it the other way around? Am I only saying this woman is attractive to prove something to myself? I literally have a girlfriend and my attitude towards mine or other's sexual orientation is generally a huge big "whatever, I don't care". And I still have a passing thought like that from time to time.
So seeing people talk about a fictional character in this way really sends home how many people (whether consciously or unconsciously) see attraction as some sort of equation, you can solve, where in the end you get a result of either gay or straight.
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starry-bi-sky · 3 months
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show me how to lay my sword down long enough to let you through - clone^2 ch2
[My parents don’t get up until seven, and they’re in the lab by eight. They typically don’t leave the lab until after I get home.] Danny says as he leads Damian into the kitchen, the automated voice of the translator AI cutting through the air easily. Damian stuck close to his side, eyes narrow and a snooty look of disdain stamped on his face like a printing press while his eyes flit around the room.
The kid had woken up immediately upon Danny shuffling out from beneath his desk, and he had to scurry back to avoid being skewered by Damian’s katana. He bumped into his desk in the process, and the muffled thud it made against the wall had Danny praying that his parents wouldn’t wake up from the noise.
(“I should’ve confiscated that.” He muttered, gripping the table with white knuckles and mouth pursed into a thin line. The business end of Damian’s katana staring him in the nose.)
(He should’ve expected the baby assassin to sleep lighter than a feather. His mistake, of course. Damian realized quickly after where he was, thankfully, so Danny didn’t have to fight him off in his room. The noise and mess that would make would have surely woken up his parents, and he still hasn’t come up with an excuse as to why Damian was even there.) 
So now with Damian awake, Danny decided to just go ahead and give him a quick tour of the house so that he knew where everything was. Fuuuck, it was only setting in now that he had to leave the kid home, alone, all day.
(Maybe things will be fine. Murphy screwed him over already with this, he has other people to torment, surely. Like the other heroes, for example.)
Wherever Damian’s ‘League of Assassins’ was situated, it was probably ten times nicer than Danny’s house. That is, if Danny’s assumption from the look on Damian’s face was correct. 
Breathing out through his nose, Danny leads Damian over to the fridge, his fingers digging into the phone screen again. [I don’t have an excuse ready for why you’re here, so please don’t get seen by them. They spend all day in the lab so you should be able to roam the house freely.]   
He feels like the butler from a period drama set telling the down-on-her-wealth noble lady the rules of the manor, while she was staying with a fabulously wealthy nobleman of higher standing. It felt ridiculous. But it was unfortunately necessary, he can’t imagine what kind of reaction his parents would have to Damian — and what kind of reaction Damian would have to his parents. 
Damian scowls at him and says something in Arabic, spitting it out like acid while his arms cross over his chest grumpily. Danny stops and turns to him fully, raising a deadpan eyebrow. Damian repeats what he said, looking at Danny like he wants him to spontaneously burst into flames. 
They stare at each other for thirty, uncomfortable seconds, with Danny keeping his deadpan steady, before finally he silently holds his phone out. Damian breaks their staring contest to look down, and his surly expression deepens. 
Grumbling under his breath, Damian snags it out of his hand. Danny counts his fingers as he pulls his hand away. 
(When he counts all five still there, he drops his arm back to his side.) 
[I will stay hidden, for now.] Damian spits out, looking supremely disgruntled. It’s kind of endearing, but endearing the same way a tiger cub was. Cute, but undoubtedly dangerous. Rather than handing back his phone, Damian speaks into it again. [But figure out what to tell them. I am above hiding.] 
“Planning on it.” Danny mutters, nodding sharply before taking back his phone and turning back to the fridge. Before he even takes the handle, Danny pushes his hair from his face and leans forward, pressing his ear to the door. The metal is cold on his cheek, but he barely pays it to mind. 
Ecto-contaminated food didn’t have nearly enough of a signature to fully trigger his ghost sense, but it did make a strange, buzz-humming sound that felt more internal than external. Like the sensation that Danny himself was humming instead.   
From his peripherals, Danny can see Damian staring at him with unconcealed bewilderment, his apparent surliness temporarily forgotten in favor of looking at Danny like he was an idiot. “Madha tafaeala?”
In lieu of answering, Danny just holds up a finger at Damian. Something the little dude really doesn’t appreciate, as he immediately scowls at Danny and makes that ‘myeh’-like expression that kids do when they’re trying to give someone they don’t like attitude without actually saying anything. The one that, as far as Danny is concerned, doesn’t have a real term for but everyone knows what it is anyway. 
Either way, Damian makes a face at him that does, briefly, succeed in irritating Danny. He says nothing and cranes his ears instead, trying to catch if there’s any internal buzzing coming from inside the fridge. His hand drifts instinctively to the counter, where he and Jazz had moved the knife block for this exact reason. 
…Will he have to hide this with Damian here? He hopes not, the last time the knife block got moved he forgot, and had to strangle a half-eaten chicken from the fridge after it came back with fowl vengeance. 
When he doesn’t hear or feel anything out of the ordinary, he leans back and swings the door open with ease. Rows upon rows of liquid-jellied-solidified-whatever-it-was-feeling-at-the-time ectoplasm sat in glass canisters, tupperware, and bottles on the shelves. Glowing green in between the stuff that was actually food, and washing a buzz over Danny like someone just draped him in a weighted blanket. 
(He should clarify. Ectoplasm does exhibit its own signature that’s too weak to signal his ghost sense, but that buzzing-humming feels more like the painless tingling of when part of his spine falls asleep. Except everywhere, and the feeling is heavier in his head. It’s oddly comforting. Nostalgic; like the smell after the snow’s freshly melted and the weather is warm. It is very much not like the ominous, buzzing-humming-intent of a partially reanimated chicken that’s regained some of its sentience and wanted revenge.)  
Behind him, Damian makes some kind of squeaking sound. Or maybe it’s more like a yelp. Either way, it’s alarmed and loud enough that Danny turns around with half a jumping heart and a ‘shush’ on the tip of his tongue. 
“​​Ladayk ma' lieazir!” Damian hisses, pointing behind Danny at the canisters behind him. Damian’s eyes narrow into slits, and he hunches up like a stray cat that’s been cornered. “Min 'ayn hasalt ealaa ma' lieazir?!”
Danny follows the point of his finger, and sees the ectoplasm canisters behind him. “The ectoplasm?” He asks aloud, looking back at Damian in bewilderment.
Apprehension tightens slowly in his chest. Damian used that word again — and Danny only catches it because it was what Damian had been calling him last night, in the warehouse. He thought it meant ‘stranger’ or something — but, he glances back at the ectoplasm in the fridge.
Was Damian calling him ectoplasm? 
He knows what ectoplasm was? 
What had been a steady tightening in his chest suddenly fastens like a noose. Danny reaches for one of the canisters just to make sure, and Damian watches him tersely as he curls a hand around one of the canisters and pulls it forward. He doesn’t take it off the shelf, but he does gesture slightly with it. “This?” He asks, “The ectoplasm. Is this what you’re talking about?” He knows he has a translator on his phone, but he doesn’t think he’ll need it for this. 
He recalls the word Damian used, and frowns. “The- the lazeer? Laziere?” It’s an embarrassing attempt at trying to repeat it, but Damian understands what he’s saying anyways and nods sharply.  
“Niema, ma' lieazir. Kif lidayk.” 
Danny really doesn’t like that Damian knows what ectoplasm is, and he really doesn’t like the idea that his League of Assassins place knows about it too, and seemingly has access to the physical stuff. This feels too much like going swimming in the ocean and feeling something brush against his foot. 
Now he really needs to make sure that Damian never makes it back to the League. The idea of a bunch of assassins finding out that his parents can make ectoplasmic weapons terrifies him, just a smidge. (Just what has he gotten himself into?)
Putting the canister down and pushing it away from the ledge, Danny reaches for the milk instead, his heart beating uncomfortably in his ears. A discomfited “Hn.” comes out under his breath as he plucks the jug off the shelf and shuts the door, it closes a little more forcibly than normal. Danny reaches for his phone. 
The word ectoplasm doesn’t translate into Arabic, he checks before he says anything. Danny reaches over Damian to put the milk on the table as he types, still frowning uneasily. [It’s ghost stuff.] He says, and then says aloud: “Ectoplasm.” 
“Ec-to-plasm.” Damian repeats curtly, lip curling. Danny nods curtly.
Rather than repeating himself, Danny types into his phone again. [You’re not allowed in the lab without me. Don’t touch the ghost stuff in the fridge, it’s dangerous.] He says, [I was listening to the fridge because the food likes to come alive and attack, if you need food from the fridge, grab a knife.] He’ll try and show Damian how to listen for reanimated food later, it’s a little harder without a ghost sense but the food moves, so he’ll show him how to listen for that.  
Damian scoffs; “'Adhhab hayth 'urid 'ayuha almuhtal.” and reaches out to take the phone from his hand. 
Rather than letting him, Danny pirouettes away, holding his phone over his head, “Nah-ah-ah.” He says, watching Damian’s face twist indignantly into anger. [We’ll talk more later, I want breakfast and you’re probably hungry.] 
(Is he avoiding? Absolutely, he is. But it’s early, and Danny is much too tired to entertain the impending doom sinking into his chest like snow caving in a roof. He needs to do something about the information that a league of assassins has access to ectoplasm, but that something is… being put on the backburner for now.)
(Maybe he’s just catastrophizing — he’s gotten pretty good at that over the years. Maybe he’s putting too much weight on the idea; maybe he’s just sleep deprived. No, he’s definitely sleep deprived. Either way, he’s putting a pin in the murder group for now.)  
Danny turns for the pantry, and takes about one step before he remembers the phone in his hand. Twisting around, he plops it onto the table for Damian, and then marches over to the pantry for the cereal. 
The oven clock reads six-twenty-eight, and that doesn’t have Danny feeling all that great. He said earlier that his parents got up at seven, so they only have thirty-two minutes before then. Then another ten or so before his parents come down for breakfast. Mom takes the shower first, and dad comes downstairs to get started on breakfast. Sometimes it's cereal, but he likes making eggs if they haven’t been irradiated.
The pantry swings open and Danny pulls out a box of cereal, his brows furrowed in thought. Dad will want to talk to him if he sees him — so it’s for the best that Danny and Damian finish eating before dad makes it to the hallway. He turns and glances at the time again. Six-thirty. Thirty minutes. He puts the box onto the table and grabs their bowls and spoons. 
There’s a look of apprehension on Damian’s face as he puts everything down, his fingers curled around Danny’s phone. His eyes flick up to Danny, and then he holds up his phone. [Is this what you eat?] He asks, before eyeing the table again. 
Danny can’t stop the quiet snort that escapes him, his thoughts quieting for a moment as he slides into his chair, before reaching over and plucking the phone out of Damian’s hand. [Sorry bud, it’s all we’ve got time for before my parents get up.] 
Damian makes a disgruntled face, and sits down. 
(He idly makes a mental note to wrangle out of Damian later what kind of foods he likes. He’s not too bad at cooking. He’s better than Jazz, at least.)
—-----
They make it back up to Danny’s room by six-fifty-two, just as Danny hears his parents shuffling around in their room. They’re up a little earlier than normal. His mom’s limb, quieter footsteps already padding for the master bathroom. Danny is closing the door when he hears a familiar thud, and the low, sleepy groan of his dad sitting up and putting his feet on the ground. 
Damian bounds away and is already situated on Danny’s bed when he turns around, fingers snatching his katana from beneath the pillows before he turns and sits stiffly with it in his lap.    
It was a bit of a ridiculous sight: despite being awake for nearly an hour, Damian’s bed-head hadn’t changed a bit, with a tangled bunch of curls jutting out from one side of his head. Pair that with him still wearing Danny’s NASA tee (and being swamped in it), and the katana, and Danny was half tempted to snap a picture. Again, he was finding himself endeared.
He does end up sneaking that picture as he strides over to his closet to rummage for clothes. 
[I’ll try and think of a way to get you home.] He lies as he shifts through the shirts on the hangers, typing with his thumb, and tilted halfway with his phone jutting out for Damian to hear. [But that’s gonna take a while, so we should get you some different clothes soon.] There was no way he was letting this kid wear the same thing every day, this might take weeks. 
He yanks a yellow turtleneck that Tucker got him off the hanger and tosses it out onto the bed. It lands next to Damian with a quiet thump, and the kid shuffles away from it with a glare as if it's personally offended him. Danny stifles a smile and walks out, grabbing his hoodie-jacket from its spot on the door and tossing it onto the bed as well. 
Damian grumbles something, then holds out his hand for the phone. Danny hands it to him as he passes by, going over to his desk to pick up his gloves and grappling hook, before turning to his bag. 
[I am not worried about the time, Mother will come looking for me.] Damian tells him, sticking his nose up into the air and missing the cold seize of Danny’s heart and the tensing up of his shoulders. His mother. Who was probably also an assassin from the assassin club Damian was made from. 
(A blood rush sends stars spinning around in the corners of Danny’s vision, and he pauses in order to stare blankly at the top of his half-opened backpack. He quickly blinks it away, and unzips his bag fully to shove his gear into one of the larger pockets.)
He hums low, turning to look at Damian with a fake smile plastered on his face. “That’s great, bud.” 
(It should be a good thing, but he can’t quite shake the whole ‘assassins’ thing. Specifically… well, all of it. It’s all giving him a headache to sort through.) 
Damian scoffs at him, [I cannot understand you.] 
Danny snorts unwittingly, turning and shoving his gloves into an inside side pocket just as Damian throws his phone at him. He catches it before it can slam into the wall — or Danny’s head, and puts his grappling hook into his bag before typing into the translator. [I said that it’s good. I’m glad your mom is looking for you.]
That was another lie, and he felt bad that it had to be. Damian rolls his eyes at him, and Danny stuffs his phone into his back pocket and grabs his hook. 
When his bag is accounted for, Danny finally focuses on getting dressed. He moves out to the bathroom to change, admittedly hot-footing it a bit so that Damian is alone for the least amount of time possible. He passes a sleep-mussed Jazz heading for the stairs, and she pauses to mess with his hair.
“Did you stay up all night again?” She mumbles, her fingers catch on a few tangles, but slide out at the end easily. “You don’t have bedhead.”  
Danny pauses, half-distracted by the feeling of her hands in his hair and the urge to hurry through getting dressed. “Only a little.” He says, scurrying away and opening the door to the bathroom. “Was workin’ on a case.” 
Jazz frowns at him, and he closes the door before she can say anything. 
(He’s in the middle of brushing his teeth when he remembers that Damian will need other essentials than just clothes, and immediately starts compiling a mental list.) 
He’s got half an arm through his jacket when he leaves the bathroom, his attention split between getting it on and typing into his phone. When he opens the door, there’s quiet, rapid footsteps shuffling before he sees Damian hopping back onto the bed, staring at him stonily and like a kid who was acting like he hadn’t been doing anything. 
A smile tugs at the corner of Danny’s mouth, and he types into his phone to add something before hitting play on the translator. [I have to head out now, you can look around my room if you’d like. Don’t touch the brown files on my desk, I’ll be back after school ends. I should have a game plan by then. Don’t be seen by my parents.] 
As it speaks, Danny strides over and grabs his backpack. Damian’s eyes follow him the whole time, and Danny slings his bag over his shoulders and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. 
Damian nods curtly at him, and before Danny leaves he reaches over and plucks a hairband off his dresser, pinching it between his teeth. 
“Okay, I’m off.” He repeats, voice slightly muffled by the hairband as he starts pulling his hair up. There’s a huff from Damian and a knowingly annoyed look, and Danny’s smile grows a little out of amusement. He tugs the tie out from his mouth and twists it around his hair. “Be good, Damian.”
Green eyes narrow at him, and Danny hurries out of the room, closing the door behind him. 
(He was a little — no, scratch that, a lot apprehensive about leaving Damian here alone for most of the day. He was worried about his parents, perhaps a little too much, and he was worried about Damian recognizing the ectoplasm in the fridge. He’s worried about the whole thing with these ‘League of Assassins’ people, and he’s worried about how he’s going to explain Damian’s presence to his parents. And he’s most especially worried about how on earth he was going to convince Damian to not return home.) 
Instead of going for the stairs, Danny turns and hurries over to the end of the hallway where the ladder to the rooftop is. There’s a lot he needs to think about, too much for him to want to walk with Sam and Tucker.
The nice thing about people is that they don’t really ever look up.
—----------
Danny: hey i’ll meet you guys at school
Tucker: did something happen during patrol?
Danny: something like that
Danny: i’ll tell you in class
Sam: alright. Hop safe
[Danny liked Sam's message]
—-------------
(if continued)
“Dude.”
“I know.”
“Dude.”
“I know.”
“Dude!”
“I know!” 
Danny drops his head onto his desk with an unceremonious thump, groaning low with his nose smushed into the wood. Sam’s hands, buried in his hair and in the midst of messing with it, stills to let him. Some of the strands slip out of her fingers and pool around Danny’s face, causing a curtain. It tickles a little. 
Maybe he should have just walked to school with them, telling them about Damian probably would’ve garnered less attention that way. He can feel the gazes of their classmates — or at least, the ones not slowly filtering into the room — turning onto them, and burning into his head. 
But running over the rooftops, albeit only until the residential area ended, was sorely needed. It didn’t help clear all of his thoughts, or really much of any of them, but it’d chased away the worst of his anxieties about it. Like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy room. 
(This has been, officially, the longest… five hours of his life. And he’s had many, many long five hours in the last two years.)
(Pariah Dark and his evil future self are tied for the record of being the longest twenty-four hours of his life. Finding out he was a clone doesn’t count — it was still ongoing, and distressingly permanent.) 
Tucker makes a noise, and Danny turns his head just in time to see him drop into his desk beside him, lifting his hat to run his hand over his curls with a look of disbelief. He’s staring unseeingly over Danny’s head for a whole of two seconds before looking back down. 
“So he just — what, popped out of the ground? Like a daisy?”  
Sam continues with her ministrations, and her fingers brush against his neck as she straightens his hair down his back. It’s soothing, enough so that the sleep-soreness of his eyelids becomes a lot more evident to him. 
“Hn. Something like that. If the ground was a once-in-a-lifetime portal and the daisy was a murderous six year old.” He mutters, blinking slowly to try and keep himself awake. Sam’s nails scratch behind his ears, gathering up his hair again to finger-comb out the tangles, and he sighs quietly in content. 
He sees Tucker suppress a smile, and he can practically sense Sam doing the same thing. Danny stares, did his ears do the thing again—? 
“You don’t think a ghost had something to do with it?” Sam asks him, her voice staying low as she tugged out the knots in his hair. “It’s really strange that…” She pauses. Danny can feel her lean against his chair, and he lifts his head slightly as Tucker leans in too. “..that Damian just appeared in front of you right after you got done with fighting a ghost.” 
Hrm. She was right. It was weird. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He says quietly, “I was too busy trying to get him to stop attacking me.” And after that he was busy trying to get them both home in one piece, and then after that was the whole identity crisis—
And he’s gonna stop there before his tired mind latches onto that spiral again. 
Sam and Tucker’s mouths press together worriedly, and Danny finds himself frowning too. “Maybe I can sneak into the Zone sometime this week and ask one of the Ancients.” Frostbite knew a lot about the Infinite Realms in general, but Pandora might know more about strange magic. 
He could try Clockwork, but finding the clocktower always feels like a scavenger hunt, and getting straight answers out of the ghost is like trying to catch the wind in a bag. Danny normally wouldn’t mind, he kinda likes the challenge, but now is not a good time for that. 
Either way, it was just another thing on his long list of things to do this week, on top of everything else he had to do since acquiring Damian. He could feel a stress headache coming in, and it was only — he takes a quick glance at the clock — eight-fourteen. Yeah, longest five hours of his life. And counting.
Hrrm. “I just can’t believe my luck.” He complains, of all people to clone, of all kids to end up being cloned. It had to be the one kid who, by technicality, was his biological son. That thought alone felt like a tsunami about to swallow him whole. It was confusing, and complicated.  
It shouldn’t have to be.
The thing is, Danny doesn’t view Damian Wayne as his son. Not by a long shot. Damian Wayne was Bruce Wayne’s son. But just like how Ellie isn’t Danny, and Danny isn’t Bruce; Damian is not Damian Wayne. And Danny still doesn’t view him as a son, and obviously Damian doesn’t view him as a father. But it all feels like a strange gray area, like a merry-go-round that’s not turning off, and it wouldn’t have to be if his parents hadn’t been fucking careless with their DNA samples— 
It’s been four months why does he still feel so raw— 
Tucker snorts roughly, bringing Danny out from his head. 
He breathes in deep, blinking quickly, as Tucker leans back into his chair. Sam starts sectioning off Danny’s hair. “Yeah, fair enough,” he says, “bad luck is my schtick though, Danny, so don’t go start encroaching on my brand.” 
“Your brand?” Sam repeats, voice lilting upward. Danny can imagine she’s raising an eyebrow at him, and he snickers both at the thought and at Tucker. 
Tucker’s eyes light up at the sound, and he grins like he’s won a prize. “Yeah, my brand! You know, Bad Luck Tuck?” 
Danny snickers louder, adjusting to sit more comfortably. “I thought your brand was Too Fine Foley.”
“I can have more than one brand.” 
Sam snickers this time, in the midst of braiding Danny’s hair. It feels fantastic, Danny hums lowly, sinking like putty into his desk. “I’m pretty sure that’s called a monopoly, Tuck.” 
Danny laughs quietly, blinking lizard-like. “Tuck Driver.”  
Sam barks out a harsh laugh, and it trails off into stifled chuckles as Tucker’s jaw drops. The wide grin on his face betrays any potential upset he might have though. “That’s the mania setting in.” He says, voice thick with laughter, “That’s the fucking sleep mania talking right now. Take a nap, dude, we’ll wake you up when class ends.” 
Sleep sounds great actually, and he’s gonna do it soon anyways with Sam still doing his hair. But— “I’m not done talking about Damian.” He protests, but his eyes are closing on their own, as if all they needed to hear was him agreeing to sleep to do it. 
Tucker waves his hand, “It’s not like we can’t talk about him later; nap first. Your eyebags can’t get any darker.” He assures, “Don’t worry, we’ll take notes for you.”
“Hnn… fine.” Danny says, and lets his eyes close. He’s out like a light in minutes.  
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daily-hanamura · 8 months
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#p4#p4g#persona 4#persona 4 golden#hanamura yosuke#yosuke hanamura#im so so so so weak for this scene because it's really... yosuke stepping up to fill in for yu in yu's absence#teddie's the one that jumpstarts it when he says he wants to visit nanako but yosuke makes the connection immediately#and doesn't let it become a missed opportunity and his actions became so crucial in this scene#he understood the gravity of the situation and starts reaching out to everyone else#also when yu is down for the count kanji is yosuke's first point of contact#listen LISTEN the yosuke kanji friendship is so dear to my heart#yosuke called kanji first and then naoto second even though naoto is supposed to be the “sensible” one#but its also about the way he delegates - he trusts kanji to storm the police station with him while getting naoto to check on nanako#and having naoto disseminate information to the rest of the team#and it's actually so clever because naoto may be known by the police#kanji is more intimidating and yosuke understood that speed and force was more crucial here#but naoto's level headedness made him a better candidate for checking in on nanako#because if nanako had disappeared then naoto as a detectice would be the first on scene as well as being the best in assessing the situation#intuitively i would have thought to being naoto to the station#but this was actually way better#chewing glass like yosuke being yu's second in command really isnt just some kind of throwaway line like he really gets it#he knows how to strategise and he knows the strengths of his friends the way yu does and how to best get them going#and also how yosuke's directions go more or less unquestioned? especially in this time of crisis? when yu isn't around?#the team doesn't splinter off and quabble amongst themselves they paid attention to yosuke and listened to him!!!#because they trust him like how they trust yu!!!!#AAAAAAAAAAAH#yosuke oh yosuke yosuke truly my beloved#he's good with his queue
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vivitalks · 1 month
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Last night I saw the Great Gatsby musical. Before I went, I reread the Great Gatsby book (for the first time since 11th grade!) to get a refresher on the source material and the original story. Having the book so fresh in my mind made seeing the musical really interesting, and now I am going to do something I never thought I'd do, which is post some lengthy meta about The Great Gatsby. If you haven't seen the musical, this post may still be interesting to read, but it does contain some mild spoilers, so I leave that up to you. If you also haven't read the book, godspeed lol.
There's a lot I could talk about here when it comes to the way the book was adapted for the stage. But there's one particular thing I want to zero in on in this post, and that's the "unreliable narrator" of it all.
In the book, Nick Carraway is our narrator. He's an unreliable narrator practically by default - the idea is that he's retelling events that occurred two years prior, from memory. But even knowing that Nick is probably not reporting all events and characters with complete accuracy, it's hard to know which parts exactly are wrong, or what might have happened in reality, because even though he's an unreliable narrator, he's still the only narrator and this is the only version of events we know. We're forced to take Nick as our surrogate and take him at his word. Until the musical.
(I wondered how the show was going to deal with the fact that the story of Great Gatsby is not only told by an unreliable narrator but also by an outside perspective - generally speaking the events of the Great Gatsby aren't happening to Nick, they're just kind of happening around him. Yet he's the voice of the story, so in that way he's central to it, and I was curious how they were going to balance that fact with the fact that Gatsby is functionally the main character.
I think they struck a really good balance in the end. Nick's beginning and ending lines, lifted verbatim from his book narration, frame him clearly as the anchor of the story - I think that's the best word for it; the audience jumps from scene to scene, many but not all of which contain Nick, but we know that Nick is always going to be where the action is, or that he will at least know about it. He may not be the main character, but he's an essential character. But I digress a little bit.)
The difference between the way the story is imparted to the audience in the book versus in the musical boils down to this: in the book, Nick "plays" every character, so all their dialogue and actions, their mannerisms and the way they're described and reported, it's all informed by the beliefs Nick holds about them. Whether he means to or not, his biases paint certain characters in certain lights, and because he is our eyes and ears to the story, we have no choice but to absorb those biases.
But in the musical, every character is literally played by a different actor. Nick can only speak for himself. Nick can only tell his own parts as they happened. He may be "telling" the story, but we're watching the story. We have the benefit of an unblemished perspective on things - we can watch the events the way they actually unfold, regardless of how Nick believes or remembers they went down.
This difference - between Nick as the narrator and Nick as merely his own voice - is crucial in how the musical develops each character, some of them fairly different from how Nick described them in the book. And there's one book-to-stage change - a fairly small one, all things considered - that, to me, illustrated this difference perfectly.
There's a line towards the end of the Gatsby book. Something Nick says in narration, after his final conversation with Tom Buchanan, talking about how Tom gave away Gatsby's name and location to George Wilson (which ultimately led to Gatsby's death). Nick writes:
"I couldn’t forgive him or like him, but I saw that what he had done was, to him, entirely justified. It was all very careless and confused. They were careless people, Tom and Daisy — they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made…"
When I read this line in the book, I couldn't help vehemently agreeing. Screw those rich assholes! Money does corrupt! Tom and Daisy ARE careless wealthy people! It was easy to side with Nick, not only because he was the only perspective on the situation that I had, but also because he said this in internal response to a conversation with Tom, who, I think we can all agree, is a major jackass and a deeply unsympathetic character.
But in the musical, this line is spoken aloud by Nick. And he says it to Daisy, in her house, as she's packing up to skip town after Gatsby's death. In fact, he doesn't just say it; he shouts it, visibly and audibly outraged at her audacity to lead Gatsby on, ghost him, skip his funeral, and then move away to avoid the fallout. Nick is angry and highly critical of Daisy. But because we're no longer confined to his shoes, we also get to see Daisy's reaction - not as Nick remembers it, but as Daisy actually reacts. And because of that, we're able to really see, and confirm, that "Daisy is rich and careless" is not the full story.
I have to credit Eva Noblezada for a phenomenal performance (duh). Daisy in this scene is emotional, grieving, and it's clear she has been trying to contain these feelings for the sake of her husband and her own sanity. She's remorseful, not that Gatsby is gone necessarily, but that she allowed herself to entertain the fantasy of running away with him, only for it to be torn from her. She is trying to make the best of her unavoidable reality. And then Nick tears her a new one, calling her careless, accusing her of destroying things and being too rich to care.
And as I watched that scene, I was no longer wholly on Nick's side. I understood that this situation was so much more complex than Nick's chastisement acknowledged. Sure, Daisy wasn't innocent, but she also wasn't the callous rich girl Nick made her out to be. She did love Gatsby. And she also had a whole life with Tom. She had a daughter. She was a woman in the 1920s! That's a kind of life sentence even wealth can't erase.
The way Daisy responded may not quite have landed with Nick (if we consider the kind of fun possibility that the musical is the events as they happened and the book is Nick retelling those events as he remembers them two years later, then clearly Nick's disdain for Daisy's actions overtook whatever sympathy he felt for her), but the musical gave Daisy the opportunity to appeal to us. The audience. Having this omniscient perspective of things allowed us to draw our own conclusions, and I found myself a lot more sympathetic towards Daisy when I could both see and hear how she responded to Nick's verbal castigation.
In the book, Nick is the narrator. In the musical, Nick is a narrator. But he's no longer the sole arbiter of the story. The audience got to make our own judgements on the events as we witnessed them. Every one of us was a Nick - beholden to our own biases, maybe, but at least not beholden to his.
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christakisbang · 1 year
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210202 seungmin bubble, hehe lee know hyung was watching from the side it gave me strength hoho should i say it feels like whatever i do, he believes in me and supports me on the inside? i realized such feelings don’t have to be visible to be felt
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seawing-vibes · 9 months
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Hiii welcome to The Thing I’ve Been Working On For Far Too Long !!!! This is an edited map of my WoF Headworld!! This map fallows my personal lore / story for what happens post-books! There are far more ideas I have regarding new structures, how the land changes, etc. , but this was just generally for labeling major locations within each territory! My hope was to wrap this up before the Felid Guide drops so I can compare my map to the canon reveal of locations but I didn’t quite get there and there are still a lot of loose ends. Unfortunately I don’t have much time to work on this anymore and will probably chip away at it privately in pieces , but for now I wanted to share this bit publicly!
The info for the labels on the map are all written out below, but I have primarily complied information in a Google Doc for easier viewing and navigation!
Link to the Google Doc !
Under construction !! Im so sorry I’m stuck on mobile and Tumblrs post editor on mobile is actual shit. the formatting is terrible I’m going bonkers in here. Also it’s stuck sideways for some reason like girl pleaseee turn the other way!!! I will rb this again once I’m able to format it properly.
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