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persephone-plasmids · 3 years

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Nuka-World

A Deacon X Sole Fanfic

[AO3]

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Nuka-World

“I guess I’m just confused about why they dedicated an entire section of the park to their space theme. Why not just a ride?” MacCready asked, eyeing the Star Port tower in the Galactic Zone at Nuka-World.

“To get the youth excited about space exploration,” Danse answered in his usual serious tone. “They wanted to recruit potential cadets young.”

MacCready pulled a face at this explanation. “Do kids really like space, though?”

“Seriously, MacCready?” Sole asked. “You have a kid. You should know this.”

Deacon listened to the group theorizing over the chosen aesthetic of Nuka-World while he slid a Cappy shirt over his head with a grin.

“I know Dez sent us here to recover the kidnapped synth, but all this free merch is going to be incredibly distracting,” Deacon said.

At his words, Sole’s eyes grew large. “Where did you get that? I want one!”

Deacon nodded to the merchandise rack behind him and smiled as Sole scampered over with pure joy in her eyes. Danse watched with slight disapproval while MacCready continued examining the Star Port in confusion.

Bringing the tin can and the grumpy sniper along hadn’t been Deacon’s idea. Dez had said they’d need more than just Deacon and Sole on this mission since they had so much ground to cover. When Deacon had suggested Tinker Tom, Dez had just laughed and told Sole to ask some of “her people”. Whatever that meant.

Apparently, Sole’s “people” were a self-hating synth boy scout and MacCready, whose skill Deacon respected, but he still didn’t like the idea of someone honing in on his mission.

“This entire park seems wildly unsafe for children,” Danse said, his thick brows knitted together in a line.

“Nuka Cola has always been a bit shady,” MacCready agreed. “Makes sense that their park wouldn’t be quite as kid-friendly as it should be.”

“All right, I’m ready to get this show on the road,” Sole said, walking out from the back room of the merchandise area with a Cappy shirt and cowboy hat.

“No fair! I didn’t see the hat!” Deacon whined. “I would have taken it for myself.”

“We can share custody,” Sole promised with a grin in Deacon’s direction.

Deacon screwed up his face as he thought this over. “Fine, but I get weekends and holidays.”

“Deal.” Sole gave him one of her smiles that reminded him why he needed to keep his distance from her emotionally. One of the smiles that made him want all the things he couldn’t have.

He ignored it.

“You’re both wrong,” MacCready said, snatching the hat quickly from Sole’s head and placing it on his own. “This baby’s coming with me.”

Sole laughed at this, making Deacon feel that familiar pang of jealousy again. He prided himself on making Sole laugh. He didn’t love that someone else was currently taking over his favorite job.

“You two are going to Dry Rock Gulch, I guess it’s only fair that you get the cowboy hat, RJ,” Sole said, straightening the hat on MacCready’s head with a familiarity that made Deacon feel much less in control of himself than he normally was.

“We should get going before it gets too dark,” Deacon said with a forced smile. “We don’t want Danse rusting from the evening dew.”

“Negative, soldier, “ Danse said. “My power armour doesn’t rust.”

“At ease,” Deacon responded with a little salute at the former Brotherhood of Steel Paladin. “Try to enjoy yourself a little Danse. Despite what they told you in the Brotherhood, it won’t actually kill you.”

Danse gave him a look like he wasn’t amused by his joke before turning away and heading towards Dry Rock Gulch with MacCready.

“Geez,” Deacon said. “Never send that guy on a stealth mission. I swear we’ll be able to hear his power armor clomping around through the whole park.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing we already cleared out those raiders, huh?”

“No thanks to the tin can and grumpy pants over there,” Deacon said, now smiling at Sole.

“That one was a Deacon and Sole special,” Sole answered. “We didn’t need any outside assistance.”

Deacon nodded at this, watching Sole for a moment too long before realizing he was being weird. He realized that a lot around Sole. He had to constantly remind himself how he acted around people who didn’t make him feel the way Sole did. It was exhausting.

“I say we head over to that old junkyard. If I was a Synth in hiding, that’s where I’d go,” Sole said.

“You got it, boss,” Deacon answered, following her as she began walking.

The two walked in silence for a long time. Deacon guessed that Sole was thinking about the mission. Deacon, of course, was having another mini existential crisis regarding Sole. But he was also attempting to lie to himself about his feelings, which turned it into a whole thing. He could be a very convincing liar.

When the two rounded an old abandoned building, Deacon was shocked to see a crowd right in front of them.

“Whoa, hold up,” Deacon said, placing his arm straight out to stop Sole from walking.

It was too little too late though. The group of people in space suits standing had clearly seen them. How had Deacon missed them? They were literally a handful of weirdos in space suits.

Sole had distracted him with her very existence again. This was why he had to stop letting himself explore any potential feelings for her. They just got in the way of their missions. They made him sloppy. And sloppy could very well mean “dead” in this situation.

“Greetings,” one of the space-suit-clad people said, taking a step forward.

Deacon placed one hand behind his back where he kept a gun tucked in the waistband of his jeans. The other hand was wrapped tightly around Sole’s arm, keeping her in a safe position slightly behind him.

“Listen, we’re looking for information on--” Sole began, but the woman who appeared to be the leader of the odd group before them interrupted her.

“Are you here to help us get the spaceship up and running?” the woman asked. Her slightly crazed eyes were wide and bloodshot.

Sole furrowed her brow and looked at Deacon who was still trying to understand what he’d just heard.

“The great power above told us they would send someone soon. You, my weary traveler, must be the one to help us rebuild our spacecraft.”

“No,” Sole said slowly. “We’re just here too--” but again she was interrupted, this time by Deacon’s hand placed clumsily over her lips.

“Wait just… shush for a second,” he whispered with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “This is amazing.” He looked like a kid on Christmas. “Yes, my fair… uh… lady. We were sent from the head honcho in the stars to come offer our support for your interstellar travels.”

Deacon’s voice had adopted a grand tone and he released his concealed gun to instead gesture widely at the group in front of him.

“Excellent news, kind sir,” the woman said. “I am Dara. Come. We don’t have much time. Follow us.”

“Lead the way my most excellent and esteemed priestess,” Deacon said.

Sole looked over at the spy incredulously, mouthing a quick, “What are you doing?” to him.

She wasn’t sure if Deacon hadn’t understood her question or if he was just willfully ignoring her, because he simply clapped his hands together and mouthed back, “I know, right?”

The space-suit-clad group led them through the old junkyard to a red metal object that looked an awful lot like an old carnival ride. It was supposed to look like a UFO, but anyone could see it wasn’t any kind of actual aircraft.

“Ah yes, a fine specimen indeed,” Deacon said when they approached the ride. His voice was still serious as he spoke, though Sole knew him well enough to hear the pure glee behind it. “And what, pray tell, can we do to get this up and running for you again?”

“We have the fusion cells we need right here,” Dara said. “But we don’t know how to install them. If you can get our craft up and running, I know we’ll be on our way to our higher forms soon enough.”

“You’ll be on your way somewhere,” Sole scoffed under her breath, obviously not enjoying this nearly as much as Deacon.

“Well then step inside and get comfortable,” Deacon said with a grin. “I’ll get these fusion cores installed… uh… posthaste.”

Sole snorted at this, to which Deacon elbowed her. He didn’t want her giving him away just because she found him amusing.

Dara led the group of space cadets into the UFO ride and shut the door behind her, leaving Sole and Deacon alone.

“Okay, what in the actual world is going on?” Sole asked incredulously.

“I know! This is seriously amazing,” Deacon said, barely able to contain his joy. “These people actually think this is a spaceship!”

“I’m pretty sure this is a Gravitron,” Sole said. “They had them at the local carnival every year before the war. I used to love this ride.”

Sole’s eyes adopted that distant look they got whenever she talked about her time before the Vault-Tec incident. It made him feel sad for her, before he selfishly realized that if Vault-Tec hadn’t frozen her, he never would have met her.

“Will it be safe for me to fix it for them?” Deacon asked, Sole. He wanted to mess with the space cult, not kill them.

“They might get a bit motion sick,” Sole began. “But they should be fine.”

At her words, Deacon’s face adopted a mischievous grin that made Sole’s cheeks flush. “Excellent.”

Deacon installed the fusion cores Dara had given him without much effort before holding his hand out to Sole.

“Shall we?”

Sole let a grin spread across her full lips, taking Deacon’s hand in her own. “I can handle this ride, but I’m not sure you really understand what you’re in for.”

“You don’t think I could handle your ride?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively at her.

Sole took a step closer to Deacon, leaning close to him so that her lips were against his ear. “I know you couldn’t handle my ride, stealth boy.”

Deacon shivered involuntarily at her words and the feeling of her breath against his ear, but as quickly as the moment had happened, it passed. Sole pulled Deacon into the UFO ride with her, leaving him with a lingering mental image that he’d have to examine more thoroughly when he was alone later.

“This impeccably dressed harbinger of your more superior forms has successfully repaired your vessel,” Sole announced loudly, holding up Deacon’s hand. She looked over at him with a grin that set his heart on overdrive. “Not only was he able to repair your vessel, but he’s also promised to personally make sure his work is beyond reproach by coming along with you.”

“The star angel speaks the truth,” Deacon said, making Sole snort laugh again, though she was a bit better about covering this one up. “Sole, if you’ll do the honors.”

“Everybody up against the wall,” Sole said, watching as the space cult obeyed. “Deacon? Up against the wall?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to say that to me,” He said with a grin.

Sole just rolled her eyes and pointed at the wall, waiting for him to oblige. When everyone was in position, she took her place in the middle of the metal room and flipped the switch.

In an instant, the ride began to hum as the floor started to vibrate. At first, nothing moved and Deacon worried he hadn’t actually managed to fix the ride. But as the humming grew louder, the room began to spin.

Sole stayed in place in the center of the room and Deacon tried to keep his eyes on her, but as the rotations became quicker and quicker, he had to close his eyes. The force of the rotating ride crushed him against the padded wall of the room and he had to press his lips together to keep from getting sick. Just when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the ride began to slow down until it eventually stopped.

When Deacon opened his eyes, the world was still spinning. Sole was watching him as if waiting for him to speak to the cult, but he couldn’t form a single thought.

“The mission has been a success,” Sole finally said, seeing that Deacon was completely useless at the moment. “Your craft has been repaired and will be ready for your final voyage once your preparations are complete.”

“Bless you,” Dara said, looking at Sole. “Bless both of you.”

Without another word, Dara and the other cultists left the UFO, leaving Deacon clutching the wall and breathing heavily. In an instant, Sole was beside him. She supported him as Deacon tilted his head down.

“Told you you couldn’t handle this ride,” Sole said, her voice lined with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said. “I feel fantastic. Think I might go run a marathon with Hancock later.”

Sole placed her hand on Deacon’s cheek gently, lifting his eyes to hers. He still felt sick, but the more she touched him, the less he seemed to notice the motion sickness.

“Hey lightweight, what do you think Danse and MacCready will say when they find out an old carnival ride floored you?”

“That question is irrelevant because if you tell them I’ll just deny everything,” he responded. “And of the two of us, who’s the better liar?”

Deacon was grinning at Sole again, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she was watching him curiously, her eyes roaming his face. He was confused by her expression before he realized just how clear she looked to him. Clearer than normal.

Panicked, Deacon brought his hand up to his face to find his sunglasses missing. He’d always been good at putting up walls between himself and everyone else, but he had a hard time doing that with Sole. The sunglasses were the only way he could keep some semblance of distance from her. Without them, he worried she’d see right through him. See who he really was. See how he really felt about her.

Deacon looked around himself for the sunglasses before Sole held them up wordlessly.

“You win, Charmer,” Deacon said with a nervous laugh. “Time to give them back now.”

Deacon reached out for the glasses but Sole held them behind her back with a wicked grin.

“I don’t know that I want you to put them back on. I’m enjoying finally seeing you,” she said, her eyes seeming to bore into his soul.

“No one wants to see this hot mess, trust me,” Deacon said, reaching for the sunglasses but failing to get them. All he managed to do was somehow get even closer to Sole.

“How did I not realize your eyes are blue?” Sole asked, her voice soft. “They’re… stunning.” She instantly blushed at her own words but didn’t back down. And she still didn’t give Deacon his sunglasses back. “They’re not just blue… they’re like… ice blue.”

“Must be all the surgery,” Deacon joked, even though his voice sounded flat.

The truth was, Deacon changed his appearance all the time. But his eyes? His eyes were his own. Always had been. They were the one thing he didn’t change about himself. So to have Sole admiring them in such a personal way felt… amazing.

And dangerous.

Sole bit her lip as she watched him and Deacon swallowed hard. “Why don’t you want anyone to see you?” she asked.

He wanted to tell her that he was scared they wouldn't like what was left after all the lies were stripped away. But he didn’t say that. Instead he said, “Because I don’t want them to fall in love with my beautiful face. It just wouldn’t be fair to destroy some unsuspecting wastelander like that.”

At his words, Sole laughed softly, just like he hoped she would. If she was laughing then she wasn’t asking him questions that hit too close to home for him.

“I mean, now that you’ve seen the full effect of my icy blue gaze, you surely must understand that I wield an ungodly amount of power.”

“I really don’t know how you manage to fit yourself and your ego into your tiny sleeping quarters in the Railroad,” Sole said with a roll of her eyes.

“There’s enough room,” Deacon said, his voice now teasing. “More than enough room if you ever want to join the two of us.”

And that was it. The truth of the matter. Deacon could flirt with Sole all day long if it was all a big joke. But if he ever told her that he’d dreamed about what it would be like to wake up next to her, he’d lose the small amount of control he still pretended to have in this partnership. He couldn’t tell her that he longed for the casual and familiar touches of two people who trusted each other so completely that their physical contact was expected and normal.

“Do you really want me to take you up on that offer?” Sole asked, a challenge in her eyes.

Deacon still hadn’t learned that he couldn’t tease her about their flirtation for too long. She’d always make it real. And as Deacon knew, real was dangerous.

“Or should I just hold onto these sunglasses for you?”

Deacon leaned forward, sliding his arms around Sole’s waist. He hated himself for the fact that she actually closed her eyes as he got closer to her, obviously expecting him to make a move. But instead, he grabbed the sunglasses that she hid behind her back before pulling away from her with a forced grin.

“Got em,” he said.

Sole opened her eyes, and when Deacon saw just how much disappointment they held, his heart broke. When he heard Sole try to cover up her disappointment with a joke the way he always did, his heart broke even more.

“Well then I guess it’s just you and your ego in your bed tonight,” she said. “Let’s go find Danse and MacCready to see if they’ve had any luck locating the Synth.”

“Oh right, we’ve got an actual reason to be here,” Deacon said, quickly putting his sunglasses back on and feeling immensely more comfortable behind his wall of protection.

“We actually have two reasons to be here,” Sole said as she walked towards the door of the UFO ride. “We need to find the Synth, but we also need to go to the fun house in Kiddie Kingdom.”

“Did I miss that part of the briefing, Charmer?” Deacon asked, following Sole to the bright junkyard outside.

“Dez probably just forgot to tell us how important it is that we go to the funhouse,” Sole said “But you and I are professionals. We have to check everything thoroughly.”

Sole raised her eyebrows at Deacon as she walked away and Deacon was left wondering how Dez ever could have thought it was a good idea to send Sole and himself to an amusement park together.

They’d never get anything done.

[Part 4]

Based on the time my OC and Deacon ran into that crazy cult in Nuka-World :P

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #deacon #fallout deacon #sole survivor #deacon x sole #deacon x sole survivor #fo4 fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #fanfic #deacon fanfic

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destellolunar · 3 years

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SABRINA'S MONTHLY OBSESSIONS:

MARCH 2021

Fics:

Heal by AzulRoma (@roma-northr)

Tomorrows that follow @little-miss-sunny-daisy

Quiet light by coveredinthecolors

White winds blow by @helpless-in-sleep

Waiting for you by @misssophiachase

Picturesque by @supernutellastuff

Edits:

The wolf posters by @recyclingss

Rebelion by @labime

She will never forget him by @klavscaroline

Big bad wolf by @lyannainsomnia

Magic of pegasus and tangled fusions by @klarolineagainnaturally

Blogs:

@parallel-outlines

@likemypulse

F i c s

HEAL — AzulRoma

Summary: Devotion told through the pain swallowing their hearts; a display of love through the act of cleaning each other's tears. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: The way of words this author has it's wonderful, it's truly something else. This is a very underrated story and most people should know about this beauty and this author. Her writing style is really deep and I absolutely adore the way she writes Klaroline, their scenes always get stuck in my mind, it's the perfect mix of intense emotions and sweetness. This is an emotional story, but it's precious.

WHITE WINDS BLOW — perfectpro

Summary: Caroline Forbes waits anxiously in the Riverlands to hear of the return of her betrothed, Elijah Mikaelson, from the uprising against the mad King Silas. Instead, a letter arrives from his younger brother, Lord Niklaus, telling her of Elijah's death and offering to uphold the joining of their houses himself. She will become the Lady of Winterfell, but Lord Niklaus, waiting at the heart tree, is a stranger. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: I'm trash for GOT au's, and the univese building in this one is exceptional. The narration it's so genuine, I honestly felt like I was watching a show and it was really magical. The way the KC relationship evolves is full of tender, how they slowly built up a bond despite the tragedy it has behind was such a joy to read.

QUIET LIGHT — coveredinthecolors

Summary: Caroline Forbes sets off to the Bahamas with her boyfriend, Elijah, where she'll finally meet his brother for the first time. But as it turns out... she knows Klaus Mikaelson a little too well.

Multi chapter: 1/10 (in progress)

Why am I obsessed?: This is a love triangle between our favorite originals and it's genuinely amazing! By the time I got to the end of the first chapter I was freaking out, and now, the anticipation is consuming me. Plus, Luiza's writing is the most glorious and poetic thing ever and adds so much climax into the story. It's filled with drama and I want all of it!

TOMORROWS THAT FOLLOW — sunnydaisy

Summary: How was she supposed to know that the cute guy she had seen on her morning run was a prince?

That’s what she gets for deleting her Instagram.

Multi chapter: 3/? (In progress)

Why am I obsessed?: Modern royalty fic with prince Klaus and actress Caroline it's everything to me! It's beautifully written and the story is so intriguing and charming. It's super fluffy and it's the perfect one to put a huge smile on your face. Besides, this was the story that made me obsessed with the modern royalty trope. It's so good and brings light to my life.

WAITING FOR YOU — misssophiachase

Summary: Detectives Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes are forced to work together on an organised crime case. Given their growing attraction and close proximity solving a murder is the least of their problems. [One shot]

Why am I obsessed?: The world building here is so good, it's an amazing story and although it's about detective KC it goes beyond that. The importance the author gives to all the chacarcters, how she lets them grow in so many aspects, the details, the dynamics, everything it's sensational. I love this one so much.

PICTURESQUE — supernutellastuff

Summary: She doesn’t talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she’s sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. Or times when they go to clubs and instead of trying to pick up people they find themselves in a corner spilling their guts amidst the pulsating lights. But alcohol or some other form of intoxication is definitely involved.

Klaroline (with a little Steroline) AU/AH where it's a miracle the gang still have working livers seeing that they spend more time than they should at the bar.

Multi chapter: 7/7 (completed)

Why am I obsessed?: This is a really engaging story and one of my favorites parts it's the dialogues. The pining was there but also some angst that show how an incredible way with words the author has. The chemistry between Klaus and Caroline is so real and it was delightful to get to read all their progress. It is fantastic!

E d i t s

THE WOLF POSTERS — recyclingss

Both in my heart and soul I believe The wolf by Yokan is canon, so these posters are everything I needed to complete that happiness. It's not only an amazing idea but the edits are fantastic! She captured the essence of the story so well and I can't stop staring at them. They are so stunning!

REBELION — labime

Is this one of the most stunning moodboards I have ever seen? Yes, is it. I adore the black and white aesthetic and the intensity of the pics. It's absolutely and perfectly gorgeous, it's so evocative and the overall atmosphere for the are it's inspired by it's unbelievable.

SHE WILL NEVER FORGET HIM — klavscaroline

This edit is stunning, I really love the inclusion of those pink roses and the overall aesthetic of it, but one of the reasons I'm obsessed with it it's because it's filled with so many deep emotions and feelings. It's beautiful and tragic, and I'm a mess everytime I read the little drabble it has. I adore it.

BIG BAD WOLF — lyannainsomnia

I could stare at this edit and everytime I will find something that I love. I consider dark aesthetics and color scheme a little bit tricky, but this one is perfection. The manip is so well done and the moodboard it's quite unique, I got goosebumps for how amazing it is.

MAGIC OF PEGASUS AND TANGLED FUSIONS by klarolineagainnaturally

We should be all thankful for having Lottie's talent and creativity on this fandom. I mean, KC x Barbie fusion? I never thought I needed that until I knew it was happening! This gif set it's stunning and has all the barbie vibes, and combining my younger self favorite story with my favorite couple it's a dream come true.

The tangled manip it's so realistic, like how? The color scheme just screams fairytale and I'm trash for it. I know everytime I'll watch Tangled I will only think about this beauty.

B l o g s

@parallel-outlines is the queen of klaroline gifs and no one can tell me otherwise. Her blog is art! Her gifs are everything to me, they are so realistic, so aesthetically pleasing, so cohesive and perfectly made. I could spend hours and hours in her blog and I will never get tired, there is so much art to look at and it's unbelievable how talented she is.

@likemypulse I recently found out this blog and I have spent so much time on it. Their edits are full of colors and they are super eye catching. The way they match the pictures and made such beautiful edits it's something that I really love and that I look up to. It's such a gorgeous blog!

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beybladefanboy · 3 years

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Top 5 Favourite Beyblade Characters

Random and unasked for but I figured I would talk about my favourite characters in the Beyblade Metal Saga.

#5 A tie between Chris and Hikaru

Chris

I’m putting these two in the same spot because I wanted both of them to be on this list and a “top 6” doesn’t have as good of a ring to it as a “top 5.” Anyways, the first time I watched Metal Fury, I didn’t care much about Chris. Now however, I find his arc of being stuck in a job that brings him no joy to be incredibly relatable. His lack of passion for Beyblade makes complete sense: the fun of the sport was completely sucked out when it became an obligation for him and he wasn’t allowed to fight for himself. He was completely obligated to his employer and had little choice in the matter. That would suck away anyone’s passion, trust me, I know. So seeing the light return to his eyes as he rediscovered his passion for Beyblading was incredibly satisfying.

Hikaru

A lot of the appeal of Hikaru is admittedly that she is a female blader, and yeah, it is great having a strong female character. (We need more of those) What’s great about Hikaru however is that she isn’t just a token girl character or a mary sue: she is treated the same as any other blader and is allowed to fail and feel emotions without being degraded. I like that we even see a bit of her backstory where we learn that she is driven to be the best blader because of her likely deceased mother’s words. It’s a shame that she quit Beyblade due to her trauma but I also think it’s understandable and that it was interesting to explore that trauma. The moment that broke my heart rewatching Metal Masters was when Hikaru sees Dark Tsubasa and is paralyzed by terror, clearly remembering what Ryuga did to her. Beyblade’s most powerful scenes to me are the ones that delve into a character’s mind and allows me to see their thoughts and feelings. It allows me to understand and be more attached to the character and we got a lot of that from Hikaru and Chris.

#4 Yuki

Yuki is kind of underrated in my opinion but then again, so is the entirety of Metal Fury. Yuki was a really fresh character for the series. Nearly every character is extremely reckless: acting first, thinking later so it was really refreshing to see a character who overthinks everything to the point of anxiety. I just relate more to a character that doubts himself and has to fight to overcome not just the great evil but his own self-doubt and fear as well. Also, I love that scene where he fights Ryuga. He probably knows he doesn’t stand a chance against a guy like him but he doesn’t care because he’s fighting for his friends. I can relate to that. When I’m just doing something for myself, I tend to doubt and question myself but when I’m standing up for my friends, I show no mercy. So yeah, Yuki is a really relatable character, as well as a pure cinnamon roll that needs more love.

#3 Kyoya

If you asked who my favourite Beyblade character was two and half years ago, I would’ve answered “Kyoya” without any hesitation. While I do still really like him, I think his character was kind of fumbled in Metal Fury. I’ll talk about that separately though because I want this to be a positive post. Still, Kyoya is a great character. I like how he develops from a villain to that one liner asshole friend of Gingka’s. While I do like him unironically, Kyoya is honestly just funny to me. He is so ridiculously arrogant about his own skills but he actually is as good as he says he is. He’s also a tsundere. He’s absolutely a tsundere. He’s always helping his friends with whatever bullshit they’re doing: helping them infiltrate the Dark Nebula, going to look for Gingka when he disappears, helping them infiltrate Hades city, going with them to look for the Legendary Bladers, and on two separate occasions, staying behind to fight someone so the others can go forward. Even his determination to beat Gingka feels more like friendly competition than actual malice. And yet he insists he doesn’t care about them with lines like, “It’s not like I came to save you or anything.” It’s honestly kind of majestic. He’s also a complete badass. He always gets back up after a loss and fights to the bitter end and, sometimes to the detriment of himself but never his Beyblade. When Leone was on the verge of breaking to pieces in The Fearsome Libra, he forfeited the match to stop that from happening, risking humiliation and accepting defeat to do the right thing. That is genuinely admirable. It takes courage to fight but even more courage to admit defeat. Also, his fight against Ryuga in Metal Fusion is insane. Kyoya nearly falls so many times but keeps himself on his feet and rises up again. It takes being stabbed in the heart by the dark power for Kyoya to be defeated. Out of everyone, Kyoya came the closest to defeating Ryuga through sheer will and determination alone. What a badass.

#2 Tsubasa

Similar to Yuki, Tsubasa is also a pretty unique character for this series. While he is passionate about fighting like all the others, Tsubasa is much more thoughtful and cool-headed, which is appealing especially among a cast of hot-headed crazy characters. When Tsubasa is first introduced, he’s kind of a mystery. We don’t know his true intentions or alignment until we learn that he was working for the WVBA, about 15 episodes after his initial introduction. This unpredictability made him interesting to watch in Metal Fusion as I didn’t know what he was going to do next. Then in Metal Masters, he becomes even more interesting. While it was emotionally intense to watch, I think the “Dark Tsubasa” arc is one of this series’ greatest achievements. It revealed a completely new layer of personality to Tsubasa and gave him so much development.

While he was being somewhat controlled by the dark power, it is made clear through the dialogue that that side of him was always there and the dark power just enhanced and unmasked it. He did often hide his true emotions and intentions in Metal Fusion after all. The scenes where Tsubasa interacts with his dark self are very interesting and relatable to me because I often try to hide my negative emotions and avoid situations where they might come out until those feelings fester into madness, which is essentially what Tsubasa did. However, the resolution to this arc is what makes it so special to me. Tsubasa doesn’t drive out the darkness or continue to repress it: he accepts the darkness as part of who he is because everyone has darkness in them and the way to control it is to become one with it. And in the end, he becomes a stronger blader and person as a result of this arc. This is legitimately inspiring and helpful to me. It’s important to remember that we are not defined by our worst thoughts/feelings, we are defined by how we handle them and accepting ourselves, flaws and all, is important. So really that arc alone makes Tsubasa one of my favourite characters but he also has an appealing personality as well. It’s a shame he was kind of underused in Metal Fury but I love what we got from him.

#1 Ryuga

Yeah, okay, this was obvious. Take one look at my feed or even my profile picture and you could probably guess that I love Ryuga. Two and a half years ago, I hated him with a passion but after rewatching the show again, I realized I only really hated him because of what he did to Hikaru, Tsubasa, and Kyoya which yes was horrible and I don’t condone it in any way but he was under the influence of the dark power at that point and he never does anything quite that awful again. Anyways, onto the positives. Ryuga in Metal Fusion is the best villain the show ever had. He poses a significant threat and was the first person to legitimately defeat Gingka. He’s also a terrifying sadist that cackles at others’ pain. If Ryuga had stayed like that, I would probably still like him as a character but I certainly wouldn’t have developed a crush. Damn, that would’ve been nice. But alas, even in Metal Fusion, Ryuga is somewhat sympathetic when you remember that he is just a kid and was both used by Doji and not even in full control of himself because of the dark power. He is seen trying to resist its control in the final battle after all. It’s interesting to see a character who is literally corrupted by the power he sought out and actually does learn from his mistake. In Metal Masters, he realized that humans’ greed and hatred was what caused the dark power to be so harmful and decided to draw the power from its original source, before it was tainted by humans, and became super powerful. Even if you hate Ryuga, you have to admit that is awesome. And once he stopped being a sadistic villain, he became much more unpredictable as sometimes he would even help the main heroes in Metal Masters, albeit for selfish reasons. Ryuga sort of feels like a combination of traits I liked most in Tsubasa and Kyoya. He has the unpredictability and loner attitude of Tsubasa and the confidence and determination of Kyoya. Also, I don’t think I need to say that Ryuga is a badass. That’s not even an opinion: it’s something that we all know to be a fact. I mean, this is the guy who launched his Beyblade at a floating city, wrecking it enough to send it crashing into the water and causing a reactor meltdown that nearly destroyed the earth. That last part was unintentional and in all fairness, he did help stop the end of the world, but still, he is both powerful and reckless enough to do something like that. He was kind of frustrating in Metal Fury but I did like his friendship with Kenta and while his blind pursuit of power was annoying, I gotta admire the ambition. And… yeah, I cried at his death. I cried harder at that than anything else in this show at any other point I watched it, including when I was a kid even though I knew it was coming. Even though his motivations for fighting Nemesis were far from righteous, he still died trying to defeat the great evil and his final act was giving Kenta the star fragment to give the heroes the chance they needed to win. Ryuga died a hero, plain and simple. I wish he had lived so we could see him develop even more after that moment but either way, Ryuga is a great character. He’s the best villain in season one and I love his fiery personality and aesthetic in the following seasons.

#beyblade metal saga #chris #yuki mizusawa #hikaru hasama #kyoya tategami #tsubasa otori #ryuga #ryuga kishatu #yuki #hikaru #kyoya #tsubasa #metal fury is underrated #I have my problems with it #but it's just as good as the first two seasons in my opinion

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inkabelledesigns · 3 years

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Taking a trip down memory lane can often be a scary thing. This month, among some family movies, reflection on past events, and reconnecting with old friends, I've been dealing with a lot mentally and emotionally. But part of that has come with the joy of hearing my friends talk about their old characters and the silly things we did as kids online, and that part has been delightful. So I'm gonna spill my guts for a second and share a daughter of mine that's very very precious to me, one you wouldn't know too well unless you met me on DA.

This is Vibrance Echo, audiokinetic dj and elemental hero. By day, she's Vivian Kenson, a fairly average teenager that's passionate about the arts. She lives in Sunburst City with an adoptive father and sister, who love her very much and encourage her pursuit of music and performance. Her friend group has formed a parkour team that puts on some killer shows in the streets. They're a pretty fun group, and they all love different art forms. There's Fiti, a graffiti artist who paints her psychic visions, Mitch the resident tech guru who blends computers and arts, Dixon who's secretly a demon with a very bookish attitude, and many many more.

But everything gets crazy when Vivian meets her partner in heroism, Audius. Audius is an ancient elemental spirit, the spirit of sound, and Vivian rescues them from their place of imprisonment off the coast of Sunburst. In return, she's granted incredible power to manipulate sound waves and vibrations, and the two come together to form Vibrance. That's right, Vibrance and Vivian aren't the same person, Vibrance is essentially a fusion of Vivian and Audius, in a process known as Synchronization.

Together, they fight off a dark force known as Tumult, and his nefarious organization. Tumult aims to break the elemental spirits and use their broken pieces to send nature into chaos. After all, he who controls nature can change the world however they see fit.

So why is looking at the past scary? Well, the time in which I developed Vibrance was also the few years I had a close friend as a co-writer, who ended up as my boyfriend for about nine months. When we split, so did our story, and we never talked about what to do with it, we just kind of stopped being in touch. I was so broken up about it that I couldn't touch anything for Vibe for a long time.

Until recently. I've slowly been working on repairing her and her story. This is a character that was my entire world once, much like Auran is now. Even if she's not my primary focus, I still love her, and I want to see her story through, just slowly and on my own terms. A big thing that's helped me is actually making her and her friends in the Sims. I have an apartment where she, Fiti, and Pyrite (her big sister) live together, and down the hall are Mitch and Dixon. They're a great group to play with, and I love them so much. It's given me a ton of ideas too! Like I didn't know Dixon loved books so much until now, but he's grown to love learning new things and reads often. I'd love to share more of their adventures some day, I just get so hung up on the details and worry that people will put it all under a microscope to judge.

There's so much more to this world than you know. The old elemental masters, the mysterious origins for Pyrite, the mermaids, the idea of two elemental heroes synchronizing together to make a dual elemental, the two time travellers that totally flip how time travel works as a concept? I've had this story in me for years, I want to bring it out to shine someday. So, um, would it be okay if I shared my doodles and thoughts for it now and again? ^^''' I know that's so silly to ask, but I have no one to share it with, I'd really like to share my little worlds with you guys. Even if I'm just screaming into a void, at least I'll have said it out loud, which is more than I can say for the past four years. Thank you for listening and reading through, I hope you liked it!

#vibrance #vibrance echo #sunburst City #fiti #mitch #dixon #elemental heroes #ocs #character art #character design #character concept

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srunlovable · 3 years

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September 5th, 2021

Sunday

08:05 PM

Hi Ms. Journal!

My sunday was lovely I get to sleep a little more and did nothing whole day, of course I could change some habit, picking a book to read but I didn't. And I wont be mad about that I'm trying to change somthings first.

At the end at the afternoon I went to the woods to make some exercise, and damn how's it good to dance. It's one of my favorites feelings in life, I love how I can move my body to the song and expresse my feelings in a incredible way! That's when I really feel happy and greatful for beeing alive in this planet.

Speaking of songs I've been blessed with some new artists this year, like Slayyyter, COBRAH, Agnes, Jessie and Ryna. Urgh, bitches are dropping so many good shit. Slayyyter it's my new favorite popstar, she's like a fusion of Britney and Paris and that's EVERYTHING TO ME. I just can't stop listening to her songs, theyre pop, sexy and fun, it remember a lot Britney style of singing, and this is bringing me so many joy! I oculd'nt stop dancing around with their songs! Trouble paradise It's my new fav bop of the world. Just on repeat! It's kinda hurtty have to admit but it's incredibly done.

And also this week two of my favorites popstar in the world came together in a song! Pabllo Vittar made it to the remixes album of nothing more nothing less than LADY FUCKING GAGA. This is so significant o us brazilians gays, I can't even describe. These popstar is what makes us feel alive and worth to living, expressing their own form of live and putting so meningfull songs, and some slutty ones of course, who embrace us as the human beeing we are. I'll never be so greatful for them to this.

Today Ms. Journal I just really wanted to be greateful for my day and be prepared for this whole new week who's starting. I need to focuas and work harder! I Know I can!

Thx again for beeing here tracking my path with me. See ya. ♥

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leglesstv · 3 years

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THE DARK DAYS BACK– 2021

I have been struggling with how to start this piece. I guess I should tell you a little about myself.

What I do for a living is not who I am, yeah, I get to blow shit up and its super fun but it’s not what defines me.

I have been a water baby all my life from growing up on the beach to commercial diver.

The ocean or the ocean’s rhythm ebbs and flows within me.

Surfing has been the biggest part of my life for longer than I care to remember. For sure I have been out the water for extended periods before while working on projects overseas. Always with the knowledge that I will be getting wet again, sometime soon. I have never before been concerned that surfing will not be an option. I have always just figured I would surf till the day I die.

October 2019 we were still basking in the glory of a once in a lifetime trip to the Ments. 10 Kneelos on a boat sailing around the Mentawai’s. Absolutely what dreams are made of. Red, Giggs, Lester, Larry, Craig, Steve, Johan, Andrew and myself. Jason the skipper of Switchfoot made it 10 chargers in total.

We had also had a run of solid swell at the local, which for me was all time as my new Kneeon that Nick had shaped for me had arrived. Nick and I had chatted over the phone, had a few video calls and bam!! this magic carpet arrives. Oh my sack, I have never been happier with a stick. My surfing went up in leaps and bounds. Never been happier in my life.

Around this time, I started to get pains in my left hip which radiated down the leg. Initially it wasn’t too bad but it got progressively worse. It got to a stage where I literally couldn’t walk anymore. Thinking it’s got to be the hip, off I went to the hip specialist. Had some photos taken of the hip, back to the clever guy’s office and this is where things started to go south.

Mate, as hips go, yours look beautiful but I recommend you go see a neurosurgeon.

Your spine doesn’t look good at all.

You can imagine, I’m thinking “what the fuck, are you sure you’re looking at the right X-rays.”

So, at least by this time I was on crutches to help me get around and waddled off to see Dave. Dave is a neurosurgeon that had done some work on my spine before.

Same sort of story, pain in my shoulder, radiating down my right arm.

True as nuts, I had gone to the shoulder clever guy who had told me exactly what the hip guy had just told me. Anyway, a long story short, Dave did a decompression on the C7 and T1 vertebrae.

I was booked on a boat trip to the Maldives with my good mate Guy. He is a stand up but I love him anyway. I manage to get on the plane without really having tested the neck or having had time for rehab of any sorts. Probably not my brightest move. We had solid swell the whole trip, but truth be told, I was in constant pain.

Once back in SA, I was off to see Dave again. X-rays and CT scans followed, and Dave said unfortunately we going to have to fuse the C7 and T1 but we will go in through the front this time.

Absolutely no problems whatsoever and I was back in the water 3 months later.

Dave, howzit I’m back. More scans and X-rays (starting to know everyone by their first names by now) followed. Yip, pretty much the same story, crumbling, degeneration of the spine.

I was booked in for a decompression on the L4 and L5. The procedure was pretty standard and uneventful. Unfortunately, just as with the neck, the decompression was not successful. A week later, I was booked in for a multistage fusion, L4, L5 and S1.

So, they going to open me up again along the same incision line, not feeling great about that but hey, there are worse things in life. Waking up from this op was a rude awakening. Fuck me this shit hurts. Trying to move was pretty tender for sure. Anyhow the drugs did their thing and a few days later I was able to get out of bed and lose the dreaded catheter. Walking was fair interesting to say the least, I had to laugh at myself as I looked like a mummy.

Little shuffles with my hands out front but hey, I was mobile. The day they let me out rolled around. Crap balls I felt like shit and was fair tender. It felt like someone was taking a mallet to my head.

I remember battling to get into the wheelchair to get me to the car. The nausea was just incredible, I thought I was going to throw up all over the place. Between the porter and Jo (my wife) they managed to get me into the car.

The ride home is not too far but I was deteriorating at a rapid rate of knots. Got home, Jo managed to get me onto her “throne” where I just passed out.

Through the rest of the day and night I remember fleeting moments of being awake. Couldn’t move, didn’t know what was going on. Basically, a vegetable on the couch.

The next morning Jo realized that this wasn’t good. Somehow or other she managed to bundle me into the car. I have a memory of the gardener holding the car door open with a look of concern on his face. The next thing I was on a gurney at the hospital with Debbie staring at me. Debbie is Jo’s business partner and one of my best friends.

Tests and more tests.

Somehow or other I had picked up Bacterial Meningitis.

Jo had literally just saved my life. A few hours later and it wouldn’t have turned out well.

Some serious antibiotics and medication I can’t even pronounce later, my infection levels started coming down, but the headaches wouldn’t go away. Back into the noisy tube for some more scans. Was good to see all the guys and gals in radiology again.

Crap balls I had a rupture in the thecal sac. Basically, it’s a sac that runs up your spine and over the brain. The sac contains cerebrospinal fluid. When leaking the sac “collapses” on the brain causing insane headaches, headaches that are just next level. Think migraine on steroids.

Back into theatre to patch up the leak.

Once again, they opened me up on the same incision. Success at last, once again freedom day arrived and was bundled into the wheelchair again and back into the car.

Was great to be home with the animals for sure. Jo had made a bed for me in the lounge as walking at this point just really wasn’t an option. To say I was tender would be a bit of an understatement.

A day later, I got this incredible pain down my left leg. Kinda like being hit with a cattle prodder. I remember screaming as the first one hit. Absolute agony, pain like I had never felt. It would last for about 30 seconds but in that time, I couldn’t move a finger for fear of escalating the pain. I just screamed and screamed. Over the next two days, it got worse and more frequent.

This was an incredible low point. I remember crying like a baby. I was emotionally drained by this time. I remember thinking I just want to be normal again. Remember, I can hardly walk, can’t even get down on the toilet to take a dump. I hadn’t had a shit for as long as I can remember.

My wife was washing me and dressing me. It was taking its toll.

This carried on for two days until it got to a point where I just couldn’t move.

An ambulance and crew had to come and peel me off the couch eventually. They dosed me up, got a stretcher underneath me and carried me out to the ambulance.

Jesus, what the fuck!! But hey, could be worse…right?

Back to my favorite people with the noisy machine. Hi everyone, true as nuts I’m back. Another scan revealed that the crushed bone material that they place between your vertebrae was leaking out and catching the nerve going down my leg.

Another twirl in theatre to clean up the debris, by this time the clock on the wall and I were good friends. I used to watch the seconds tick by as the anesthetic started kicking in. I woke up from here being wheeled into high care. Now I have to tell you this was by far my worst experience.

The following morning two nurses came to wash me. I was in absolute agony and they kept moving me and turning me. I was screaming in absolute agony, but they wouldn’t stop and no-one came to help me. To this day I can’t understand it.

Couldn’t wait to get out of there and back on to a ward. Or so I thought…

From there they wheeled me into an isolation ward. Apparently, I had picked up the dreaded hospital Super bug. My infection count was in the 400’s (8 being normal) and to make matters worse, the headaches were back. I had sprung another fucking leak in my Thecal sack. FUCK!!!

Back to my old friend on the wall with the ticking second hand. Again, opening me up on the same line. This time I wasn’t friends with the clock on the wall.

Dave patched me up as best they could.

What the actual…

My new home turned out to be a glass box in the ICU. In isolation in intensive care. Jesus, this isn’t good.

Nurse and doctors were putting gear on to come into the glass box. “What’s going on???”

Machines were everywhere beeping and hissing. “Fuck me, this isn’t good.”

Waking up at 4am with people sticking needles into you to draw blood loses its shine after a while. I think all I ate for the two weeks was watermelon in the morning that Debbie used to bring me with a cup of coffee. When I say bring, I really mean bribe the porter.

Now you must remember I have basically been bedridden for 6 weeks and not had an appetite at all.

I could see the concern on peoples face when they came to visit, as much as they tried to hide it, it was there.

Nights were the worst and the tears used to flow. So as not to let the pressure in the Thecal sac become too great, they drained it every few hours. This as I’ve said to you before brings on insane headaches.

Morphine and I were no longer friends. It made me incredibly sad and depressed.

I came off the morphine by choice and gritted the teeth. Absolutely worth the pain.

Lester and Marco organized a live feed for me for the warmup session before the SA Kneeboarding Champs. What legends.

Once again, I cried like a baby, but these were tears of joy. It was so good to watch my mates surfing and everyone saying “hi” on the feed made me feel like a million bucks. The brotherhood is strong here in Cape Town. Love these boys.

At this point I was literally skin and bone, but my infection levels were coming down and I had managed to get out of bed and make the few steps to the toilet. The sun was definitely coming up for me. For the first time in a long time, I thought I was going to make it.

Fuck, the thought of dying in that glass box haunted me every night there.

Freedom day was like no other. Getting out of there into the sunshine and colors and breeze was a sensory overload, but hey, I was out and feeling good…ish.

My mates, Debbie and Sian had kept me going. Sian is my office manager and best friend.

She tried to feed me all the way through to no avail, true as nuts she used to arrive with bags of food.

God it was good to be home.

Reality starts to kick in pretty quickly. Fuck me am I ever going to be able to surf again, am I ever going to be able to sit on the toilet again (it’s the little things hahaha…)

Time to reset the mind from “fuck me, I don’t want to die in here to I need to get in the water again”.

Enter the amazing Lara, the physio that is a gift from the angels. I remember that late December day shuffling and shaking my way into her office. By this time, all my muscles had wasted away and just holding my frame up was as much as I could muster. I could do about 2 minutes before all my muscles started shaking from fatigue and I was still shuffling like a mummy.

The question Lara asked me off the bat was “what do you want to get out of this.”

“Just get me back in the water please,” was my response.

At this point it was a fantasy I had to believe in, physically I was a mess, but I think mentally I was scarred and the mental trauma was real. But fuck it, if I could survive that, I can achieve anything. The will to get back in the water was incredible and became all consuming.

Walking around the house became my exercise routine initially and braai tongs my best friend (in case I dropped stuff as bending was not an option). I had to hold on to everything at first as I walked along, eventually I could skip the kitchen counter on the way to the TV room and skip the chairs on the way to my room, and so it went on until I could just about walk the whole house without holding or resting.

Lara had given me gentle low impact stuff to do, just to tone the muscles and stretches to get some life back in the buggers. Everything hurt. This was a continuous process that I did all day every day for a few weeks. I was starting to feel more stable on my feet which did wonders for my mental wellbeing. Progress was gradual but I started noticing results which made me feel like a million dollars.

Getting behind the wheel again was a massive boost for me. My buddy Kante who is a running coach, walked with me from my local to St James, what a joy being next to the ocean again, mind surfing every bump that came through. I steadily built this up over time. Eventually I could make it to Muizenberg and back (5 kms). Everything ached at this point and the thought of shortening every walk was ever present. 4am wake ups every day can be a challenge and for sure there were mornings I couldn’t bear the thought of getting up. Sore back, sore hips, it’s dark and it’s cold, fuck this shit. On the odd occasion that I didn’t manage to get going, that feeling of worthlessness would set in. What the fuck is wrong with you, don’t you want to get back in the water? That’s not a cool feeling. I have probably missed 3 days in the six months I have been rehabbing. A 45-minute 5km walk followed by an hour of rehab back at home. I can’t begin to count the many lonely hours I have spent in the dark, walking and processing thoughts and priorities.

My weekly visits to Lara are always a highlight. My flexibility is measured as well as my strength. Some weeks just like some days are better than others. Lately there are a few moments of some days that I am totally pain free. These can quickly be followed by days and moments of crappy pain, but I will take the good ones for sure. Setbacks some and it’s natural to be bummed by them. Thinking “end goal” always helps. Watching Billy Kemper’s story after that crazy injury in Morocco has inspired me tremendously and there is a kinship that forms in adversity.

To keep the spirits up, I have ordered me a new board from Nick (Kneeon) which should arrive any day.

Jedd has also shaped me a 5’4 twinny that looks more like something that should be flying in space rather than the water. Can’t wait to get these beauties wet.

The daily grind continues relentlessly and it’s not always easy to appreciate the reasons for the dark hours one spends with oneself on the rehab trail. I want the prize now. Sheesh, it’s a constant battle upstairs. Here’s the weird thing, the closer I get to the end of April (paddle out day…hopefully), the more fearful I become. Will I be able to, and can I still?

All this and more just keeps swimming in the head and there’s the self-doubt.

Fuck it’s terrifying.

I have gone over it a million times in my head, do I just paddle out at a gentle beach break and see how it goes. Na, that scares me more. Soft waves are hard work and the amount of torque on the spine terrifies me. What if the nuts and bolts pop out?

There is no way in hell I am going back to that building with the big red cross on it. This drives me harder for sure back on the road, back to the floor and core exercises.

Lara assures me the hyperextension of the back I have obtained through this time will definitely be fine for paddling.

The torque and pressure on the lower back coming off the bottom and turning off the top, is what scares the crap out of me. The reef and I are intimate, god knows I have bounced and scraped along her so many times. I have certainly paid my dues.

Wiping out doesn’t scare me, it’s that word again “TORQUE”.

Perhaps I will just go straight on the first few. That in itself presents a bit of a problem at the local, but that’s where my head is.

I know you will all understand this, “what if a section just presents itself, just asking to be slapped”.

It is so ingrained in each and every one of us, that muscle memory just takes over. Going to have to be ever vigilant.

I have swum out to the peak just to be out there with the guys. The first time was not great. It took me so long just to get to the water. Jumping off the railway line so not an option. Doing the walk around and trying to get over the rocks was tricky to say the least.

Feeling the water over my feet was an absolute delight, but crap balls, had the water got colder since the last time? As soon as I laid in the water, it dawned on me that this is going to be quite the journey.

I couldn’t swim on my stomach as the pain was intense, but fuck it, I was going out. I swam on my side and back. Eventually I made it, the guys cheered and whooped, I felt like I had just won the lottery.

It was so good to be part of the conversation out there again, it was so good to hear how stoked the guys were for me, life was good.

I fed off this like I had been starved of life for ages.

Today being the Saturday before the Wednesday that I go back to Dave (the surgeon), brings turmoil to my emotions.

I’m not sure what I am scared of more, being told you aren’t ready or yeah, go get in the water. I am so scared of not surfing to my full potential again. Every day closer brings more panic. I just want it to be over now.

Wednesday morning dawned (but not really), up at 4am and back on the road. Usually, I am thinking about the workday ahead but this morning not so much.

My head is swimming with what ifs. What if there is still something wrong, what if I can’t anymore, what if, what if…

On the drive to see Dave, the surgeon, my heart is beating at a million beats/minute.

It’s good to see Dave again in a weird type of way, he really is a very cool guy.

Anyhow, he sends me off for some more pictures of the spine. Gotta say I was staring at the radiologist for some clues, but nothing.

The stress is killing me, and I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest.

So, back up to Dave with the thumping heart, I can hear it in my ears.

It all looks brilliant mate. What… I could not believe what I was hearing. He took me through the X-rays explaining what he was looking for and everything was just right.

There’s no use putting off the inevitable he says to me, go get in the water…but don’t be stupid. I wanted to scream it to the world!

Obviously, the doubts started kicking in hard right about now, but hey, I had gotten the green light.

Thursday morning I was off to Lara for physio. I couldn’t wait to tell her the good news. The muscles on the left side of my back had been in spasm for two weeks now, so as thrilled as she was, there was the don’t be stupid again.

I had coached myself in my mind for months now, high tide, small waves and just go straight…right.

Friday morning and the reports started coming in. There’s a bit of a wave at the local.

“It’s go time.” With my heart in my mouth, I started packing the car.

Sweet Lord, it had been a while, I had to keep double checking I had everything packed.

I don’t think I noticed any other cars on the way, I was mind surfing all the way through to the local.

I got there a few hours before the high just to get my head straight and check the lineup.

There were some chunky 4 footers coming through, but I wanted some more water on the rock. I watched my mate Dave paddle out and get some screamers.

Steve finally arrived, “I thought you would be in your suit already” he says.

This is it, heart in the throat again, off we went.

Sheesh it was so good to feel the waves crashing over my feet and legs again.

Jumped on my board and started paddling.

Woooohoooo absolutely no pain. Got out to the takeoff zone and everyone was cheering and welcoming me back. How humbling.

Mickey Duffus, a local big wave legend was out. Everybody back off he bellowed, this man hasn’t surfed for 6 months.

For some reason, this made me relax and just enjoy the moment.

Something started standing up out the back, Steve was sitting in the channel waiting for me to have my first ride.

“You going Mick?” I heard someone ask.

Yip I heard coming out my mouth, I spun and went.

Muscle memory and familiarity with the wave kicked in. I made the drop…Fuck I couldn’t believe it came around the section and just flopped off my board.

Steve and Dave had the biggest smile on their faces. The emotion of the occasion just swept over me like a wave, and the tears started flowing. All I kept thinking about was lying in ICU thinking fuck, I don’t want to die in here to taking off on the first wave.

Well, for the rest of the session, I absolutely sent it, trying to take off as deep as possible on the gnarliest set waves. All the coaching I had done in my head for the last few months went straight out the window.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Damn, I felt so alive, without a doubt, the happiest man on the planet. When I got back to the car park, all of the Kneelo crew were in the car park and boy were they happy for me.

Sean Thompson was there too, shooting my waves and recording the moment.

How blessed am I. Nothing was getting the smile off my face.

When I lay in bed that night, I kept thinking of the months of rehab and hard work I had gone through. The many lonely dark hours of the mornings, but I had done it.

The next morning, we were on it at first light with the Westside boys coming through as well. The Kneelo brotherhood in Cape Town is tight. I am so humbled by all the good wishes and thoughts from everyone.

Just want to mention Lester, who kept me sane in the last two months. We chatted every day for the last while, sometimes a few times in a day. He kept me motivated and hungry and for this I will be forever grateful.

There are so many people to thank for getting me through this period. I think you know who you are, and I will get to everyone individually.

It’s good to get wet again.

I started writing this piece to help anyone in similar circumstances.

Stick with your plan and give it everything no matter how hopeless your situation may seem.

At the end of the day this was such a therapeutic exercise for me. Something I didn’t expect.

The trauma was and is real and this has certainly helped me face it and deal with it.

If this helps even one person get over and through a rough period of hopelessness, its job done.

Mickey Kirsten

Legless Contributor

SA Kneelos

#leglesstv #kneeboard surfing #mickey kirsten #health #sakneelos #lester sweetman

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anarcho-mom-unist · 3 years

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A survey of my ‘spotify wrapped’ from 2020

So, I listen to music between a lot of platforms, I hate how spotify operates as a company (and like in a way that’s pretty comparable to my loathing of the publishing/distribution sides of creative industries,) and I fucking refuse to ever pay for spotify askjdhd

However based on the aggregate of my 100 most-listened-to songs from a year of mostly hitting shuffle on an artist, album, or playlist on mobile, I do have some reflections and highlights. From that I made something of a survey of that list which includes my #1 and #100 song in addition to 1 song from each set of ten, for a total of 12 songs. These represent artists and genres I really got into this year, as well as longtime favorites that are worth talking about:

1. “Bad Trip” - Bad Trip (single) - Xena Elshazlii & Fady Haroun: "Bad Trip” is probably my favorite 2020 release, like if I had to pick one. The track has incredible energy, from the soft piano and vocalization intro to the verse with it’s sparse drums, subtle bass line, and slight strings to an absolute banger of a chorus with punchy staccato synths, reinforcement of the drum groove, and addition of an electric guitar. Elshazlii & Haroun pack a lot into 2-and-a-half minutes of music, and the variations in texture, mix, & music in each iteration of the song’s discrete sections are *chef’s kiss* ---verse 1 and chorus 1 are not identical to verse 2 and chorus 2, to say nothing of the short instrumental transition b/n the first chorus and second verse. Whenever I listen to “Bad Trip” I’m compelled to hit ‘repeat’ ---which is not a normal occurrence for me---and experience the builds and releases that this track brings once again. I don’t know much Arabic beyond the slang terms and exclamations that peppered my grandparents’ & parents’ speech when they spoke to each other in Armenian, but I’d be a liar if I didn’t tell y’all that “Bad Trip” is among the songs that make me want to learn the language so I can better sing along w/ them.

3. “City Lights” - Sailorwave II - Macross 82-99 ft. Kamei: "City Lights” is the opener to Macross 82-99′s 2018 EP Sailorwave II, and it does that job immaculately. While I recommend the entire EP and an exploration of the Future Funk genre as a whole, you can’t go wrong with getting a taste of either through “City Lights.” The track bursts to life w/ synth brass chords and fast drums, quickly finding its way into punchy up-tempo horn line w/ light rhythm guitar and an active & bouncy bass line joining the mix. “City Lights” more or less goes from A to B to C and after the instrumental opening, the track shifts to a more under-voice horn line offering a countermelody to a mid-to-low register vocal line which is soon after joined by high voices punctuating the beginning of each phrase. The horns, guitars, and singers are cut from the track as the song enters its final section, a rap verse from featured artist Kamei accompanied with a slower-moving bass and light synth chords & wash in the middle register. Taken all together, “City Lights” ---like “Bad Trip” before it---packs a lot of music into a short duration & leaves me wanting more, which I especially long for when listening to the track outside of the context of the EP (which is what I usually do.)

12. “Turn to Hate” - Pony - Orville Peck: There’s a lot I could have done better in 2019, and “check out Orville Peck” is pretty high up there. “Turn to Hate” is a song that is at once heartrending, sincere, & catchy as all get out. Peck does one of my favorite possible things a musician can do on this track, and that’s make me Feel Things at a quick tempo. The vulnerable lyrics sung in outlaw country bass are supported by a fairly simple chord progression that acts as a solid foundation for a lot of texture ---moving guitar lines in the accompaniment part and middle-ground lines that move in and out of the melodic foreground. My moment of pure delight on the track is Peck’s laconic “yeehaw” that leads into a guitar solo that does so much work w/ its relative simplicity. “Turn to Hate” is an excellent song to get you into Orville Peck’s music if you aren’t already, if any of this piques your interest then I strongly recommend exploring his output of classic country meets 2010s indie meets camp gay sensibilities meets emotional realness. (This is as good a place as any to advise you to check out Yola and her album Walk Through Fire.)

27. “Water No Get Enemy” - Expensive Shit - Fela Kuti & Africa 70: I’m a newcomer to Afrobeat which is a fuckin’ shame because it contains a lot of the things I love most in music: rhythmic density and variety, jazz and “folk” idioms working together, a sense joy in the music-making with righteous anger at injustice in the music’s purpose, and a kick-ass horn section. "Water No Get Enemy” by Fela Kuti & Africa 70 is as good an intro as any to Afrobeat as it’s a delightful & excellent piece of music by the genre’s pioneer. It’s worth mentioning that in addition to its musical quality, Afrobeat is also deeply connected with Pan-Africanism and the resistance to the presence of European colonizers in Sub-Saharan Africa. To be frank, whatever I write can’t really do justice to this song or the musical movement from which it comes, go listen to it... a jam you can dance to while hating the British!? Immaculate.

31. “Vardavar” - EP No. 1 - Tigran Hamasyan: The first of two songs from Armenian Jazz-fusion pianist/keyboardist and composer, Tigran Hamasyan, is a fast moving rhythmically dense piece of music named after the Armenian holiday of the same name ---Vardavar is a holiday of pre-Christian origin that Armenians celebrate in July in observance of the transfiguration of Christ, it involves throwing buckets of water on each other! Appropriate to its namesake, the running piano line through much of the track and the melodic lines are both exceptionally fluid and reminiscent of water. The rhythm of the tune follows a highly irregular subdivision of the bar that it’s best to feel along w/ as a listener ---seriously, unless you’re transcribing the tune or practicing/rehearsing it, don’t worry about counting---and get lost in with the flow of the music. Notable features of the track are the dense layering of instrumental/vocal lines on the melodic and countermelodic material, breakdowns & entire sections where the music takes to longer notes, “slower” feel & division of the bar, and a slower harmonic rhythm, unexpected unisons b/n instruments, and the transformation of Armenian folk melodies & texts between vocalized material and statements of the original material. There is no living musician whose work I love more than Tigran’s and if you’re not familiar with it “Vardavar” is an excellent place to start.

46. “Boyish” - Tropical Jinx - Little Big League: "Boyish” is better known as one of the singles from Japanese Breakfast’s sophomore album Soft Sounds from Another Planet where Michelle Zauner presents the tune at a slow tempo with an unassuming instrumental accompaniment, wash of synths in the chorus, and low-register closing guitar solo which leaves the audience with a sense of melancholy & vulnerability. The original version from the 2014 LP of Zauner’s former band, Little Big League, offers a different take on the text: noisy guitars, driving rhythm, aggressive drumming on a rock groove, and a vocal delivery offering more of the rage of heartbreak than its sadness. Zauner refers to “Boyish” as an ‘ugly girl anthem’ and that intention is very apparent on this version of the track ---whereas the Japanese Breakfast take on it gave me a sense of being in the gender hinterlands b/n acceptable presentations of masculine and feminine. Both versions of the song are really worth seeking out for different reasons, and I chose to highlight Little Big League on this list because they’re a solid guitar-driven emo band that deserves appreciation in its own right.

50. “Dreaming” - Eat to the Beat - Blondie: What do I need to say about Blondie!? A CBGB act from the late-70′s that straddled the worlds of Punk and New Wave at their peak with a mix of an exceptional rhythm section (that bass!) diverse and compelling guitar work, and the captivating and ever-iconic vocals and presence of Debbie Harry. “Dreaming” might be my favorite song from Blondie and has had a special place in my heart since I first listened to them with my mom. It’s one of those songs that I’m tempted to call a perfect pop song: a joyful performance, lyrics that are at once simple and relatable ---whom amongst is unfamiliar with longing!?---music full of hooks & containing the kind of energy that just goes and takes you with it!

65. “Holy” - Shadow Theater - Tigran Hamasyan: The second entry from Tigran Hamasyan comes from his 2013 album Shadow Theater ---an excellent work as a whole---and is one of the slower, more spacious, and simpler tracks from it. “Holy” is a setting of the Armenian liturgical piece “Soorp Soorp” which is frequently used in the celebration of the Eucharist (even in the Armenian Protestant church I grew up in) and it’s achingly beautiful. There’s always something to be said about a musician capable of complex and virtuosic feats on their instrument doing something very simply and very well, and that’s what the entire ensemble brings ---including frequent collaborator Areni Agbabian who provides the vocals. Even as the texture thickens in the middle of the song, the middle ground & harmonic support coming from strings and bassoon (Ben Wendel) is simple, under-voice, and reverent. “Holy” is the kind of piece of music that offers an encounter with God ---even if one would never otherwise believe in something beyond the material; even just for a moment.

77. “The Day the World Turn Day-Glo” - Germ Free Adolescents - X-Ray Spex: X-Ray Spex is one of those bands I’ve listened to before on a recommendation I received ages ago but never really followed up on beyond the one song sent my way. “...Day-Glo” is a fuckin’ banger of song that just bursts with this wonderful energy from the jump & showcases the best qualities of X-Ray Spex’s sound: driving guitars, wild saxophone lines, and chaotically charismatic lead vocals from singer Poly Styrene. X-Ray Spex have an output that is wild and fun as hell to explore, and “...Day-Glo” is an excellent place to start ---you’d also do well to check out their more notable song “Oh Bondage, Up Yours!”

84. “Marquee Moon” - Marquee Moon - Television: Listen, you don’t need to read some internet lesbian with a music degree go off about Television ---one of the most musically interesting acts to come out of CBGB and one of many definitive proofs that Punk is not a label that people should fucking fight about having a true definition of. Clear 11 minutes in your day, find a pair of headphones so you can experience the use of stereo in the recording and enjoy each element of the song, especially with regards to Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd’s interlocking guitar lines.

96. “Leylum” - Kokorec - Collectif Medz Bazaar & Sevana Tchak: Armenian folk music, baby!! Collectif Medz Bazaar offer a lively and joyful rendition of the classic folk song “Leylum” which has been burned in my mind from church and community gatherings ---the fun ones with music and all of your aunties dancing in a circle and such. Listen to this song and DM me if you aren’t dancing along of joining in on the response parts as best you can. I think this particular recording offers a nice entry point into an exploration of Armenian music, the instrumentation hits a lot of the staples of Armenian folk ensembles ---duduks, dohl, dumbek, clarinet, shvi, etc.---and the song itself is an up tempo dance tune which I find to be easier to start with than ballads or liturgical music.

100. “Electrastar” - Paradize - Indochine: Back in the hazy past of 2017, one of my friends from undergrad and I were hanging out and playing music for each other. In a departure from his usual library of French Baroque music, he played a song by French New Wave band, Indochine. That song was “Electrastar” which is a consistent favorite of mine, my favorite song from its album ---Paradize, which is already a solid record---and a great entry point into the musical output of a band which has been active for about 40 years. "Electrastar” features driving rhythm guitar, pulsing synth under the texture, eminently catchy chorus and post-chorus, and a very care-full and effective approach to the mix. Also, not for nothing but that album cover is 👀

Survey of 2020 Listening

#magatha.txt #long post #music recommendations #Xena Elshazlii #Fady Haroun #macross 82-99 #kamei #orville peck #fela kuti #tigran hamasyan #little big league #blondie #x-ray spex #Television #collectif medz bazaar #sevena tchak #Indochine #french mention

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animebw · 4 years

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Short Reflection: Made in Abyss, Dawn of the Deep Soul

Most of the time when I write up an analysis, review or reflection for this blog, I’m writing it right after I saw the anime in question. I don’t normally like waiting before hashing out my thoughts; the longer I wait before writing about it, the fuzzier the image in my head becomes. Talking about a movie or stretch of episodes when they’re still fresh in my mind allows me to keep my initial experience in mind as I dig into what I like or dislike. But with Dawn of the Deep Soul, the long-awaited film continuation of Made in Abyss, I just couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t summon up the will to get my thoughts out in the immediate aftermath of watching it. It was such an overwhelming, dizzying experience that to ruin that experience with words seemed almost criminal. How could language possibly capture the impact Dawn of the Deep Soul had on me? How could I even think of degrading what this film achieved by transcribing it to imperfect words? There was no way an in-depth analysis would honestly capture what I was feeling in the moment, especially when I was so emotionally drained from the whole affair. So I forced myself to wait. I let myself sit with the movie for a while. It’s been a few days since then, and now that I’ve had some distance, I finally feel ready to actually talk about this damn thing. And I can only think of one possible way to start:

Dawn of the Deep Soul is one of the best anime films I’ve ever seen in my life.

Let’s be clear, Made in Abyss was already really, really good. Taking a classic Ghibli-esque kid’s fantasy adventure setup and asking, “what if the fantasy world these kids are journeying through is actually a place of infinite horror from the monsters to the culture to the landscape itself?” was a winning recipe right from the get-go. And the series only built off that strong foundation with richer and richer elements. It tapped into the kind of visceral, dirty horror that shoves your face in the gritty, gristly details of human suffering and refuses to let you look away. It built a truly original setting in the titular Abyss, rich with terror, wonder and mystery alike. It seized on the fear of loss and grief as a gripping emotional hook to keep you invested, as our heroes’ journey forces them to bid irreversible farewells to so many of the friends they meet along the way. And it still managed to maintain the joy and wonder of the kid’s fantasy adventures it draws from, never losing sight of the heart at its core. Add to that the fantastic job Kinema Citrus did bringing the manga’s beauty to life, and you have a recipe for an instant classic of the fantasy anime staple (barring the uncomfortable overuse of child nudity). If Dawn of the Deep Soul only continued to live up to the show’s standard, I don’t think anyone would complain too much.

But Dawn of the Deep Soul isn’t just the next chapter of Made in Abyss. Hell, it’s not even just the best part of Made in Abyss yet. It is, quite frankly, the absolute zenith of everything this series stands for. If you thought the story was dark and twisted before, you have no idea what depths of madness are waiting for you here. If you thought the emotional torment was unbearable before, prepare to claw your heart out of your fucking chest. If you thought the show was already one of the most gorgeously realized fantasy worlds anime’s ever given us, just wait until you see what Kinema Citrus can achieve with a feature-film budget to flex. It’s a near-perfect alchemical fusion of everything that makes this series great pushed to extremes I never thought possible, all working in harmony to support each other and raise the bar higher and higher with every passing second. And the sum of all those incredible parts is a movie that utterly fucking destroyed me. It destroyed me with despair, it destroyed me with beauty, it destroyed me with sheer, unadulterated hype, and it left me so utterly shell-shocked I could barely even begin to process it all. I still haven’t processed it all. But I am sure of one thing above all else; I have just witnessed the kind of masterpiece that transforms a classic into a landmark.

Following the events of the show’s first season, Dawn of the Deep Soul follows our heroes as they descend into the Abyss’ fifth layer, the ominous Sea of Corpses, and finally encounter the dangerous White Whistle who was built up in the final episode: Bondrewd. This is the mad researcher who robbed Nanachi of her humanity, who sacrificed countless orphans in his pursuit of knowledge, who saddled Mitty with unwanted immortality that made her life an endless suffering. We know right from the outset that this will be the single most dangerous foe our heroes have ever faced. But he guards the only way down to the sixth layer: if Riko, Reg and Nanachi wish to continue their dive to the netherworld’s bottom, their only choice is to go through the Sovereign of the Dawn. And when they first arrive at his massive live-in research facility, the Idofront, he seems amiable enough. He offers them hospitality, doesn’t impose upon them, even lets his adorable, doting daughter Prushka hang out with them, forming a quick friendship with Riko in the process. But even as peaceful as things start out, there’s always this unspoken acknowledgement between all of them that sooner or later, they’ll have no choice but to face each other down. If the kids are to prove themselves worthy of continuing their journey, Bondrewd is an obstacle they will have to get past. They will have to overcome him. And he will make it as painful, horrifying, and gut-wrenching a process as he possibly can. All any of them can do is wait for someone to fire the first shot.

That tension is what defines the film’s structure, as the rising inevitability of confrontation strains higher and higher until it finally bursts. The first chunk of the film gives our heroes a chance to explore the facility, learn its ins and outs, bond with Prushka and learn how she sees her beloved Papa’s work, encounter the effects of the fifth layer’s curse, and slowly inch closer and closer to the horrific truth of what Bondrewd and his elite team of researchers/bodyguards- the Umbra Hands- are truly doing here. The uncertainty of what’s going on and when things are going to go wrong builds until you’re practically biting your nails every time Riko so much as wanders off on her own. And once the bubble is finally popped and the shit hits the fan, that gut-twisting tension explodes into a series of standoffs, close shaves, narrow escapes, and increasingly horrifying reveals that escalate and escalate and escalate until it feels like the entire damn Abyss might just collapse on our heads from the sheer scale of what’s unfolding before our eyes. And trust me, however horrific you think Bondrewd’s experiments might be? However monstrous you think the secrets he’s hiding are? You are wrong. You are so, so wrong. Every single time you think the truth can’t possibly get any more upsetting, yet another piece of the pule is revealed that makes your screams even louder and even more agonized. It is fucked up on a level I don’t think I have the words to properly express. Don’t even bother trying to prepare yourself for the horrors to come: there’s no possible way you could be ready for this.

And that phrase is pretty much the mantra of this entire film: you are not fucking ready. You are not ready for how devastating, how upsetting, how staggering, how jaw-dropping, how gorgeous, how awe-inspiring this film gets. Watching Dawn of the Deep Soul is like being swept up in a burning tornado and staring into its fiery rage as lightning strikes mere inches above your head. It builds and builds and builds and builds and doesn’t let up until you’re a gibbering mess on the floor no more coherent than post-curse Mitty. There are moments in this film that made me sick. There are moments that made me bite my fist to keep from screaming. There are moments where I just fucking gave up and screamed regardless. The unspeakable depths of horror the story reaches made me sob violently all throughout the final twenty minutes, maybe even more. I can’t remember a last time an anime left me this incoherent through sheer force of emotional trauma. It is one of the single most overwhelming emotional experiences I’ve had since goddamn Evangelion. And believe me, I don’t make that comparison lightly. Plenty of anime have made me feel sad or hurt or full of despair, but only a choice few have left me this fucking agonized.

But the interesting thing is, I don’t even think the story itself is the most important factor in making this movie such a raw, visceral experience. No, that honor goes to the incredible folks at Kinema Citrus who brought this film to life. Were you wondering where all their good animators and storyboarders were when Shield Hero’s first season turned into a production trainwreck of barely-there animation and ugly CG? Well, turns out, they were all working their ass off to make Dawn of the Deep Soul one of the most lavishly produced animated films ever made. Forget how beautiful the show already was, the level of craft on display here is fucking insane. Background art so richly detailed you feel like you could reach out and touch the shifting sands. Direction so staggering it makes every gorgeous vista and sweeping wide shot feel as massive as Lord of the Rings. Some of the most haunting lightning effects I think I’ve ever seen, casting the entire world and the people within it in deep, textured shadows and weighty, ethereal illumination. Character animation that places the entire cast right there among the towering iron walls of the Idofront and endless expanses of black water. It’s clear this wasn’t made into a movie just to cut down on effort; the animators took advantage of every last opportunity allowed by their feature-film budget. They pushed the show’s beauty so far beyond even its highest previous peaks, it almost feels like an entirely different thing.

And frankly, I think this is the only possible way Dawn of the Deep Soul could’ve worked. The increased budget and scope are so essential to selling this film’s majesty that I genuinely don’t think it would’ve been even half as effective as a TV production. When the body horror kicks up, muscles and blood and bones burst and ooze with an almost mesmerizing believability. The gut-wrenching despair of the story’s darkest moments is reinforced by how flawlessly the animation sells the upsetting gruesomeness at the core of its reveals. The staggeringly beautiful landscapes and the horrifying explosions of viscera and flesh spiral together in perfect synthesis that push the series’ wonder/terror dichotomy into hyperdrive. And the action scenes. MY GOD, THE ACTION SCENES. The dizzying camera that spins and soars through the expansive battle arenas, the gobsmacking detail given to every last explosion and burst of rubble, the overwhelming chaos and brutality of every single exchange, an a final, furious brawl that explodes with the force of a thousand supernovas and left me utterly fucking speechless. On a pure spectacle level, I don’t think I’ve seen any other animated action scenes that top this. Not, not even Mob Psycho Goddamn 100. The force of this film’s sakuga is so fucking powerful, it actually manages to outshine Bones’ crowning achievement of the 2010s. That’s how fucking good the action scenes are.

And then, of course, there’s Bondrewd himself. To say too much about him would be getting into spoilers, so I’ll have to limit myself. But suffice to say, Bondrewd has become one of my favorite anime antagonists of all time. Utterly terrifying in every conceivable way, able to make you nearly puke with horror at the things he reveals himself capable of, yet also a man true to his principles with a genuine love for the people unlucky enough to be swept up in his wake. He’s a personification of Riko’s own drive to explore and discover taken to its worst possible extreme, a man so driven to uncover the secrets of the Abyss that there’s no ethical line he won’t grind to dust and no sacrifice so immense he won’t make it. In the inhuman purple glare of his helmet, we see our protagonists’ greatest weaknesses reflected back at them, a symbol of all the darkness inherent to their journey they’ve been desperately trying to overlook for the sake of their sanity. Bondrewd forces Riko to truly grapple with the mission she’s embarked upon, to face the awful, unspeakable reality of what it means to devote your life to the Abyss’ siren call at the expense of everything and everyone. And the way his darkness challenges her fundamental nature, how she still strives to be good and just in the face of everything he represents, how she tries to find a better path forward than the one he’s been traveling down, absolutely gutted me. When the dust finally settles, Riko isn’t the same person she was upon first descending into the Sea of Corpses. Neither are Reg and Nanachi. The trials they’ve all undergone has shaped them and reshaped them in ways both obvious and subtle, even as they still hold fast to the love that’s kept them alive all this time. Made in Abyss will never be the same after what their experience on the fifth layer gave them... and what it took from them.

But it’s in that titanic endeavor that Dawn of the Deep Soul is so damn important. What I witnessed here wasn’t just a Made in Abyss film; it was the platonic ideal of Made in Abyss itself. It was this series’ true form, the purest possible embodiment of why this story matters, perfectly realized with all the passion and skill you could ever hope for. Dawn of the Deep Soul isn’t just the next stage of Made in Abyss: it is Made in Abyss. It stunned me and wrecked me and left me in a puddle of a million different overflowing emotions, and the most criticism I can level against it is that some plot mechanics are given somewhat rushed explanations, likely a result of compressing the manga chapters into a movie’s length. And if that’s all the price I have to pay for this series to reach its defining moment so spectacularly, then who am I to complain? Before, Made in Abyss was merely one fantastic series among many; now, it’s officially established itself as the greatest fantasy anime of the modern era. We’ll see if Re:Zero can reclaim that crown when I finally get around to watching its second season. But until then, Dawn of the Deep Soul is an unqualified landmark in the tapestry of anime as an art form, a new gold standard for all future fantasy anime to look up to. And I cannot fucking wait to see where this series goes next.

So, with all that said and done, in case it wasn’t obvious enough, I give this movie a score of:

10/10

What a fucking experience. If you haven’t seen Dawn of the Deep Soul yet, fix that. Find it wherever you can. Just make sure to bring plenty of tissues and a stress pillow. Trust me, you’ll need them.

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #made in abyss #made in abyss rw #dawn of the deep soul #made in abyss dawn of the deep soul

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avelera · 4 years

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Review: Circe by Madeline Miller

Late last night I finished “Circe” and admit I breezed through it in a couple days. It was a rare pleasure to read a book that captured my attention from beginning to end, something I’ve struggled with lately. I admire Miller a great deal, (indeed have written fanfiction in her style for my Steve/Bucky / Achilles/Patroclus reincarnation fusion fic “Sing, O Muse”) and looked forward to her take on another great figure of Greek mythology.

So, let’s get right to it:

Pros:

The story has a lot to recommend it. Miller’s prose is well-renowned for its poetry and eloquence. She paints a vivid picture of a fantastical Ancient Greece where gods walk the earth and a witch/demi-goddess like Circe has a rich internal life. In no particular order:

- The Gods - Authors often struggle with how to include the gods in retellings of the Iliad and Odyssey. Most try to simply ignore them and chalk their involvement up to superstition. Unfortunately, that attempt usually runs into the brick wall of Thetis, who is key to the story of the rage of her son Achilles, and who shows up on the beaches of Troy, where no normal woman could. Miller has always leaned into the existence of the gods rather than run from it in her reimaginings of Greek myth, and paints a fully fleshed world where they reside side by side with mortals. Her use of language elevates their appearance and evokes a Celtic Faerie Court of powerful, capricious and otherworldly beings who are both intoxicating and deeply dangerous to mortals. Miller’s prose jumps off the page whenever one of these beings takes the spotlight and is by far one of the most creative takes I’ve seen of characterizing the Ancient Greek Gods.

- Passion - It is clear in the very DNA of this story that Miller loves Greek Mythology. There is a tenderness with which the great heroes and tragic figures of those myths like Odysseus and Prometheus are presented, almost a yearning to be able to reach out and offer them comfort in their trials that is very apparent. There is awe in how Athena is depicted, for all that she serves as an antagonist. There is wonder in the descriptions of beings like Helios and Scylla. The prose shines from within when these figures appear with a sort of joy and sadness that is infectious to the reader. The sense of love for this time and these characters is inescapable.

- Emotion - Particularly with the more melancholy emotions like sadness, resignation, and helpless anger there is a profound and powerful thread running through the story. One deeply feels the appeal of characters like Glaukos pre-transformation, Daedalus, Odysseus and Telemachus. When Circe falls in love with these men, I don’t for a second wonder why. They are presented with heartbreaking beauty and appeal. Circe’s own moments of tragedy are also evocative, she is deeply impacted by the ugliness of the world in a way that evokes understanding and sympathy.

Cons:

I’m going to try my best in this section to not fall too much into the trap of “I would have done this differently” but... well, I’m not entirely sure I succeed.

- Agency - The problem of character agency has plagued Miller’s two forays into Classical myth retellings, and for me personally present the most frustrating aspect of her prose. Circe, one of the most terrifying and powerful women of Ancient Greek mythology, is almost never the driver of her own destiny in this book and I found this aspect of the story baffling and at times infuriating. The moment this realization of her passivity in her own tale hit me hardest, almost enough to stop reading, was when Pasiphae, a mythological figure known almost solely for sleeping with a cow and being the mother of the Minotaur, was somehow a more terrifying and ambitious witch than Circe, one of the great villainesses of Classical literature.

Pasiphae is presented as eagerly seeking out marriage with a powerful man, and while at first she is disappointed by her match to the mortal king Minos, she is comforted by the fact he is a son of Zeus and will one day be one of the great judges of the Underworld. The events that take place after this are all mostly off-screen, but upon reaching the kingdom of Crete and its capital city Knossos, we learn she took the court over within, ruling with terror and poison, and that even when she was laid low by the shame of sleeping with a sacred bull, she still managed to twist this event to her own benefit and indeed even orchestrated the situation, deliberately giving birth to one of the most terrifying monsters of all time on purpose, using the opportunity for a multi-part palace coup including shaming her sister Circe by forcing her to help birth the monster and clean up the fallout, securing Pasiphae’s place in history and her dominance over the court with almost no repercussions. If she suffered at all from the fact that these events lead to the death of her daughter, Ariadne, we never see it, or any other negative consequences for her actions or opportunities for remorse, because at this point in the tale, Circe is (for no real narrative reason) no longer sleeping with Hermes and is therefore no longer privy to what is going on in the world outside her island. Even once she is free of her exile, she never follows up with the fates of her siblings.

Upon reaching this part of the book, all I could wonder was why were we not reading the tale of Pasiphae? This terrifying witch who took a weak position as the wife to a “great man” and twisted it to make herself one of the most powerful women in the world? What a fascinating subversion of the typical view of this mythological figure that would have been!

Why Circe? Was a question I asked myself over and over. Surely if you wanted to tell the tale of such a passive character, there were plenty of other women in Greek mythology who would have been a better fit for the themes of the story that Miller eventually told? Why take Circe and make her a cringing good girl who always does what she’s told, whose one defiance in giving comfort to Prometheus as a little girl which as a flaw is basically “being too good” and “caring too much”. Her aid of Prometheus is barely defiance at all, yet is blown into massive significance as one of the defining moments of her life when she does literally nothing purposefully bad, or even purposeful at all, for huge stretches of her life after that? Her transformation of Glaukos is cringing and secretive and almost totally accidental. Her transformation of Scylla in revenge for stealing Glaukos’s affections is more sullen than wrathful. We’re told she has a talent for transformation that exceeds the power of the gods themselves, but no sooner does she achieve these incredible feats then she apparently needs to start over and learn witchcraft from scratch and never again works such a great spell until she’s turning herself mortal so she can die at the end once she achieves her white picket fence ending.

Where is Circe?! Where is the witch that became the subject of art and literature for millennia, one of the great female antagonists of Greek myth on par with terrifying villains like Medea? In the reimagining of this figure from her own perspective, we don’t find a great mythological figure but a tailor-made “perfect victim” - nothing bad is done by her on purpose. In fact, almost nothing she does is on purpose except to serve others in her life, like Glaukos, or Odysseus, or her son. Even her transformation of men into pigs is a result of her trying to help sailors who land on her island, only to be raped for her trouble and turn vengeful towards all other men after that. Well, until Odysseus apparently, when she gives up on transforming sailors after that, the most famous aspect of her character from mythology. Circe is given a prophecy for her fate at one point that is only that a man named Odysseus will come to her island, and that paltry prophecy turns out to be the sum total of the important events in her life as once again, she stands around in limbo until the actions of a man nudge her into actually doing something. Odysseus changes her life, not that this was hard, because she wasn’t doing anything before he came around.

Even Circe’s one great selfish act, the transformation of Scylla, brings her no joy and instead haunts her entire life like an albatross around her neck. Nothing she does is joyful, except perhaps glimmers early on as she embraces her skill with magic, and her love of the animals on her island which are presented as essentially house pets. One is left with the unshakeable sense that Circe has been re-imagined as spinster cat lady who has a couple nice little romantic flings over the years before having a kid on her own and eventually settling down with a nice husband to retire and die.

Which is fine. Perhaps it rubs me, personally, the wrong way because this is now the second iteration I’ve seen of powerful mythological women being used as modern feminist parables, only to be stripped of all their power to make these points. The other was “Penelope” by Margaret Atwood, in which Penelope is reimagined as a thinly veiled metaphor for a dissatisfied 50s housewife with a cheating husband. There’s barely any of her cleverness, her authority (for god’s sake, the woman was a queen) or her love of Odysseus, one of the great het romances of equals of ancient mythology, practically the only marriage of equals one can even point to, and it’s torn down to make a point about not liking your husband very much when he cheats on you to feel better about himself.

“Circe” at times feels autobiographical for the author (and of course this is speculation to a great extent), showing struggles with love and men, finding oneself, mourning beloved pets when they die, trying to escape the shadow of an emotionally abusive family, and learning to make decisions on one’s own in a patriarchal world. Which is fine, “Hamilton” by Lin Manuel Miranda is not perfectly historically accurate because at times it makes the choice to instead delve into autobiographical notes about Lin Manuel Miranda and his father, the experience of being a writer and the immigrant experience, the latter of which is hardly something the real Hamilton would have ever touted about himself but the strength of passion in telling that story elevates the text so it can be both about Alexander Hamilton and about Lin Manuel Miranda at the same time. There were moments in “Circe” where I was almost yelling at the page, just pick one! You can use the story of Circe to elevate a modern autobiography, to give certain aspects of life mythic proportions and tell the story of a woman who feels emotionally exiled eventually finding herself and finding love, but you have to go for it. To try to tell the story of Circe and tell a modern woman’s story at the same time is to do a disservice to both stories, where Circe is brought down into the dirt with other indecisive mortals, and the true pathos of a modern woman’s striving for agency in her life is outshone by the myth and wonder of Circe’s world.

My final note on agency, but “Song of Achilles” struggled with a very similar problem. Patroclus was reimagined as the passive, doting lover of Achilles. This allowed some really beautiful meditations on love and sacrifice, but it absolutely stripped Patroclus of many of his canonical qualities. The Patroclus of the Iliad did not shrink from battle or become a healer to avoid the war, he was a willing and joyous warrior as much as Achilles was. He begged Achilles for his armor in order to keep prosecuting the war and raise morale even if Achilles couldn’t fight.

With Patroclus, as with Circe, you have two aggressive figures who are reimagined as passive perfect victims, who spend the entire book working themselves up to the courage to make a handful of active decisions for themselves.

Going back to one of the Pros, which is the love felt on the page for these great figures like Odysseus and Prometheus, there are times when Patroclus and Circe both feel like the passive vessels for a self-insert adoration of these heroes. When Odysseus appears, I was struck by how overjoyed I was to see him. What a striking contrast Odysseus presented! Active, clever, tricky, beset by trials that he overcomes only to seek out more - contrast that with Circe who is none of those things except in glimpses. What a striking reminder of what a fantastic protagonist Odysseus is, how he is one of the greatest protagonists in almost 3,000 years of literature. Because he does things and he chooses things and he has unique qualities like his cleverness that help him overcome obstacles in fascinating ways that we still read about today.

Similarly with Patroclus being the passive narrator of Achilles’ life, we feel the reflected glow of Achilles desire and drive, we yearn for it, because almost none of that quality is present in the protagonist and narrator of the story Patroclus! I am reminded of “Nick” in the Great Gatsby and his passive viewing of events, and I’m reminded that Nick wasn’t even supposed to be a character, he was only meant to be a narrative voice until Fitzgerald’s editor stepped in and said he needed to be characterized. At times, Patroclus and Circe both skirt the line of being so passive in their own story that on some level, they feel like little more than a narrative lens through which we glimpse the true heroes from afar.

I held off until I finished the book before making a final judgement of Circe’s passivity, because at every step I kept expecting her to finally change and take charge of her own life. Early on, I thought her comforting of Prometheus would launch her into taking control of her own destiny, which would have been a fascinating inciting incident, mirroring humanity’s gift of fire. Then I thought Glaukos would. Then Scylla. Then her exile. Then Odysseus. Then her son. And at every point, she fades into the background after and goes back to doing what she’s told. The book ends with her finally making a decision and that decision is to settle down with a kind husband and eventually die. She stands up to her father, the Sun, to make this stand and it is a beautiful, melancholy ending of the story but by god, woman, it would have been a much more satisfying retirement for a character that burns and makes decisions and does things than a character who takes hundreds of years to screw up the courage to ask for a quiet retirement on her own terms.

“Circe” is beautifully written. It is a lovely, melancholy anthology about one woman’s encounters with the great figures of mythology, lovingly told, as she seeks to find herself and what she wants out of life. I do not feel my time was wasted.

But if I were to sit down as an editor with the author and point out the three things I’d like her to work on for her next story it would be this:

- Structure - the story meanders and stays glued to the scattered known events of Circe’s life. It has no internal rising and falling action. It is a series of short stories with Circe’s life loosely tying them all together. Like JK Rowling no longer understanding how to plot a story when it isn’t built around a typical school year, I speculate that Miller struggles with building a structured story without having a pre-laid track of mythical events to hang it off of, and I’m not sure she is able to sculpt a tale into having a structure outside of “slice of life” moments in those fictional biographies, beautifully told.

- Agency - characters need to want something. They need to seek out something, they need to do something. Even if they are buffeted about by the events in their lives, they should at least have a way they wish things were going instead and take some steps to making the future they want real. Passive characters who sulk their way through the events thrust upon them by more powerful, dynamic characters, may have beautiful, languorous commentary on the world but they are essentially narrators rather than protagonists at that point.

- Telling rather than showing - I know this advice is often misunderstood and badly implemented. Telling is actually clarifying and provides structure to showing. But there are huge stretches of the book that read like just a laundry list of the narrator telling us what happened next “And then, and then, and then” without couching these moments in a scene that we could feel. There are some absolutely gorgeous scenes but they feel scattered and indeed, anthological, for the exact reason that we get a handful of strongly depicted scenes in Circe’s life, strung together by her telling us rather than showing us what happened in between. The fact that none of it really builds towards any sort of climax or true reversal of her fortunes makes those moments of telling, which I forgave at first because I felt they were in service of getting us to the good part, a greater betrayal when it became clear that the only thing those stretches were getting us too was the next mini-event in her life when she met another character more driven than herself.

#circe

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 years

Text

Baby You Were My Picket Fence [Chapter 3: Light My Fire]

You are a first grade teacher in sunny Los Angeles, California. Ben Hardy is the father of your most challenging student. Things quickly get complicated in this unconventional love story.

Song inspiration: Miss Missing You by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @blushingwueen @queen-turtle-boiii @everybodyplaythegame @onceuponadetectivedemigod @luvborhap @sincereleygmg @stormtrprinstilettos @loveandbeloved29 @ohtheseboysilove @jennyggggrrr @vanitysfairr @bramblesforbreakfast @radiob-l-a-hblah @xox-talia-xox @killer-queen-xo

You open the front door and there he is: black button-up shirt, navy jeans, chic but not overdressed. His hair is neatly gelled back from his forehead. In his arms are a lug wrench, a car jack, and a brand new tire wrapped in an oversized, floppy red bow like a Christmas present.

“I think normal guys bring flowers,” you comment.

“I figured...since you’re automotively illiterate and all...you probably hadn’t gotten around to replacing the spare yet.” He shoots a glance at your Elantra, then announces victoriously: “I was right!”

“Mr. Hardy...Ben...I really can’t allow you to perform any more free labor.”

“Five minutes,” he calls over his shoulder as he trots to your car. He has trouble with one of the lug nuts, so it takes him six and a half.

“You can come inside,” you tell him once he’s finished. “I won’t be long, I just have to water my plants.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. It’s dark and rather undomesticated, yet endearing. “I feel like there must be better stalling tactics than that. If you’ve got cold feet, I can handle rejection.” But what he can’t do is disguise the way his shoulders slump, the way he bites the corner of his lower lip apprehensively.

“No, really, it’s totally stupid, but I’m really trying not to kill this batch and if I don’t water them now I’m going to be stressing about it until I get home, and I don’t want to be thinking about houseplants all night, I want to be thinking about...” You wave your hand towards Ben inarticulately. “You know. You.”

He smiles, showing his teeth, his eyes lit up like embers, flickering and radiant and warm. “Take your time, Martha Stewart.”

“My parents give me so much hell for this,” you call back to him as you flutter around the living room, standing on your tiptoes and reaching around furniture to water your peace lilies and spider plants and devil’s ivy and one wilting ponytail palm. “They’re farmers. They’re professional life-givers. I’m lucky if I can keep the cactuses alive.”

You hear Ben rambling around the kitchen. “I hope your nurturing skills are at least marginally better with first graders.”

You laugh, nodding even though he can’t see you. “I’m alright with those. I’m just more of a rock person than a plant person. Gems and minerals and volcanic glass...fossils and bones and teeth...that’s where the magic is for me.”

“I can see that. Dinosaurs are well-represented in your extensive fridge magnet collection.” There are clicks and scrapes as he rearranges them: prehistoric animals and tiny planets, peace signs and alphabet letters and cross-sections of agate. “These are so cool!” he exclaims.

You bustle back into the kitchen, place your watering can in the sink, and wipe your hands with a dishtowel patterned with cartoon brontosauruses. “Ready?” Your eyes flick to the refrigerator. He’s organized your magnets into a giant smiley face. It’s ridiculous, it’s juvenile; but you feel this liberatingly simple joy flooding through you like early autumn air. And the way Ben’s grinning at you—a little mischievous, a little proud—reminds you so much of Eli that your breath catches in your throat. You have no idea who Eli’s mother was, but her genetics were omnipotent; it’s almost impossible to find any of Ben in him at all. But every once in a while there’s an unconscious gesture, an off-kilter smile, and suddenly you can see the common threads that wove them into being like spiders’ webs.

“Ready,” Ben agrees.

You smooth your dress as you slip into the passenger’s seat of his Lexus, placing your purse between your feet, checking your hair and makeup in the sun visor mirror. Ben glances over at you as he shifts the car into reverse and roars out of your driveway. Your hands aren’t shaking, your heartbeat is hushed, there’s no hot rushing blood in your cheeks or ears; this shocks you. It’s eerie how inexplicably at ease you are.

“Find something good,” he says, pointing to the radio.

You seize the dial. “Uh oh. My first test?”

He smiles, his eyes on the road now. “Choose something lame and I abandon you at the nearest sketchy-looking gas station.”

You flip through stations until you find Somebody To Love. “I work hard, every day of my life, I work ‘til I ache in my bones...” “Okay, how I’d do?”

Ben steals a suspicious peek over at you. “Are you fucking with me?”

“What?” you ask, bewildered. “No, why?”

He shakes his head. “Never mind. You definitely pass. You’re a Queen person?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely, I adore Queen. Most classic rock, actually.”

“So have you, uh...” He touches his chin thoughtfully, what you’re quickly realizing is a little nervous tic. It’s cute as hell. Goddammit, daddy demon, stop being so fucking perfect. “Did you ever see Bohemian Rhapsody?” But something gives you the impression he already knows you haven’t.

“Not yet,” you confess.

“Not interested?”

“It’s not that, I just...” You hesitate, trying to put it into words. “I know it did well and all. But I guess I’m skeptical of anyone trying to play Freddie Mercury. He was a legend, he was one of a kind. So are the rest of them. Those are massive shoes to fill. It seems like setting the actors up to pale in comparison.”

“I’ve heard it was pretty good,” Ben presses, almost teases.

“Yeah, maybe...”

“And Rami won the Oscar. So his portrayal must have been satisfactory.”

“Okay, oh my god, I’ll see it, are you happy now? Were you on the marketing team or what?”

You’re only half-serious, but Ben chuckles evasively. “So you like old rocks and old music,” he pivots. “But not old not-boyfriends. Except Jeff Goldblum.”

“This is news to me. I sincerely thought you were sixty.”

He laughs, a full gutsy laugh this time, a laugh that says he’s caught-off guard and thrilled about it. “That’s okay. I’m into old stuff too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Old music, classic rock, just like you. But old books too.”

“Gatsby?”

His eyebrows leap up; you’re watching his face as streetlamps illuminate the car in reiterating flashes like a spinning pulsar. God, he’s beautiful. “How’d you guess that?”

“Eli’s middle name is Fitzgerald. That’s not a common one.”

“Ah,” Ben says, and his full lips turn up at the edges into a smile, proudly, fondly.

“I really like it.” That’s the truth; Eli’s a handful and that’s a titanic understatement—though he has been better the last few days, the only blip on the upward trend being his attempt to convince Brayden to eat a live cricket by paying him in Oreos—but his name is classic and elegant and a few literary references here and there never hurt anyone.

“Yeah, that was me,” Ben reveals. “His mother insisted on choosing his first name, I think she heard Eli somewhere and just liked the sound of it. But she let me pick the middle name. And The Great Gatsby was always my favorite book...and The Beautiful and the Damned, and This Side of Paradise?! Freaking incredible. In my humble opinion F. Scott Fitzgerald is a certifiable genius. So...Eli Fitzgerald.” There’s a color in his voice you can’t quite read: the golden yellow of reminiscence, the murky blue of loss, the grey nothingness of depression, the bloody maroon of deep pain or resentment. Who was she, Ben? How did she hurt you? And could I ever fill those hollow places you’re carrying around like pocket change?

He asks how Eli is doing in class, and you tell him; you ask about his favorite classic rock bands, and he answers: Boston and AC/DC and The Stones and Queen. His Lexus cruises by your go-to dinner spots—the affordable chains like Noodles and Co. and Panera and Chipotle—then past the mid-level raw vegan and farm-to-table joints, and finally into the neighborhood reserved for fine dining establishments with three-figure price tags and reservations booked up months in advance.

“Uh...” you begin. “I don’t think we’re going to get a spot at a place down here.”

“Think again.” He parallel parks with absurd ease in front of an Italian-Japanese fusion restaurant called Nejire. There’s a line of people in suits and evening gowns waiting at the door. You feel like a minnow in a shark tank.

“Ben...”

He comes around to your side of the car, opens the door, and holds out his hand. “You trust me?”

Do I? You take his hand in yours like a life raft. “Don’t let me down, Mr. Hardy.”

Unpredictably, fantastically, he brings your knuckles to his lips. “You got it.”

He spirits you inside, past the line of waiting customers, past the hostess and waitresses; they glimpse up and nod at Ben as he draws you through the main dining room and back to a VIP table in a dimly-lit, quiet corner of the restaurant. Oh, you realize with awe and trepidation. He’s an important guy.

You take your seat and open a menu as waitresses array full glasses of water and wine across the table. There’s nothing under fifty dollars. You flip to the salad page, searching desperately.

“What are you doing?” Ben asks gently.

“Um, nothing, just browsing...”

“You’re not paying for any of this,” he says point-blankly.

“That’s not very feminist of you,” you quip, but on the inside you’re sinking. This is too much, this is way too much. I can’t let him do this for me.

“I’ll explain later. Trust me, we’re good. Order something expensive or I’ll do it for you.”

“I’m a teacher, Ben. My idea of luxury is Olive Garden.”

He grins at you boldly, almost roguishly. “Oh we are going to have so much fun together, Miss Y/L/N.”

Orders are placed, wine is sipped, appetizers are ferried to the table. As you nibble on ahi tuna tartare and caprese sushi, you find yourself lost in how Ben motions wildly with his hands as he tells stories, how his large emerald-or-jade-or-malachite eyes gleam when he’s animated, how his voice is so rich and deep and yet mild, how it suddenly feels like you’ve known him your entire life. Oh no. Oh no, I like this guy a LOT.

Ben abruptly stops eating and cracks his knuckles. “So there’s something I need to tell you. Since we’re...” Air quotes. “Not dating.”

Oh fuck. He’s married or something. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“It’s about my job.”

Whew. “Ah yes, your elusive profession. You can tell me the truth if you’re a dogwalker or a circus clown or something. It’s always nice to out-earn someone. Actually, dogwalkers in L.A. probably make more than me...”

“I’m an actor.”

“Oh,” you reply cautiously. “Like, for tv shows or independent films?”

“No,” he says, amused. “For major films.”

I knew he was too fucking gorgeous to be a normal person. What am I doing here? “Like what?”

“Well, recently, Bohemian Rhapsody.”

You choke on the white wine you’re drinking and cough and gasp into your cloth napkin.

“You okay?” Ben asks. “Don’t die. You can’t die yet. You haven’t tried their tempura crème brûlée.”

“You...” You cough once more. “You were in the movie that made $900 million dollars...?”

He grins toothily. “So you were keeping up with it!”

“It was hard to miss that tidbit. It was all over the news. BoRhap won the Golden Globe.” Your head is spinning. “You’re an actor,” you repeat.

“I played Roger Taylor.” The brilliant, obscenely good-looking drummer, the man who wrote Radio Ga Ga and These Are The Days Of Our Lives and A Kind Of Magic.

“Oh my god, Ben!”

“I mean, I’ve been in other things too—”

“Ben!”

“Look, relax, we’re cool. I’m not telling you this to freak you out, I’m just explaining that you don’t have to worry about dropping a few hundred bucks at dinner. You have a right to know who I am if we’re going to be...involved. And there’s something else.” He wrings his hands. “I have to be...discrete about my personal life. Try to stay under the radar.” But now that effortless comfort is strained somehow, weighted, ominous; Ben averts his eyes. There’s a presence in the room like a storm cloud, trapped pulsing lightening igniting the opacity from within.

“Sure,” you say, thinking that a life in the spotlight can’t always be easy. “Lowkey. I got it.”

“Awesome.” He’s relieved.

“I have to keep it on the down-low too. I’m a pretty important person myself. A bunch of six-year-olds would lose their minds if they knew about my extracurricular activities. They would color such scandalous pictures in art class. Premarital dinner dates, maybe even handholding. Yikes.”

That makes Ben chuckle; the shadow is nearly lifted. “Keep drinking, Miss Y/L/N. I’m loving this.”

And it should feel weird or frightening or wrong that he’s using the word love this soon, this casually; but it doesn’t at all. It feels anything but wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your feet are on your kitchen floor, your palms empty. Ben’s fidgeting around, his hands in and out of his jean pockets; it seems like he’s trying to say goodbye, but maybe he’s not.

“So...” he ventures.

You wonder if he’ll touch you, if he’ll kiss you. You try to catch his eyes, but they’re everywhere except meeting yours. “Hold that thought.”

You dash down the hall to your bathroom to smooth your hair, touch up your makeup, swish some Listerine. On the way back to the kitchen, you stop in the living room to check on your plants. If it’s possible, they look a little perkier than they did when you left a few hours ago. You run your fingertips over the broad leaves of your peace lilies, smiling faintly to yourself. “Maybe we’re going to make it after all,” you whisper.

You hear the distinct clicking sound of iPhone texting. “Oh shit,” Ben mutters from the kitchen. “I’m sorry, I gotta go, Y/N, okay? I gotta run. But I’ll call you. I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay, just a sec...” But by the time you rush into the kitchen to say goodbye, Ben is gone, the screen door swinging forlornly. Puzzled, you lock the door behind him as headlights flare to life in the driveway and swiftly retreat into the night. Then you turn around.

Your fridge magnets are rearranged again, this time in the shape of a heart.

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fic #borhap fic #borhap #baby you were my picket fence #bywmpf

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