[4.0 archon quest spoilers]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and… the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert, porn with plot, longfic

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader

Warnings: angst!, threats, intimidation

Word count: 4,334

Author’s note: Oh my god, ok, I was stricken with a particularly persistent case of writer's block but I'm finally back! Here we are with part thirteen!! It took me SO long, as you can see 🙈, but I'm super excited for this chapter (even though I say that about every chapter, it's true!) and I'm sorry it isn't a bit longer! But we've got loads of plot development and dialogue, I hope you enjoy it! This one's smut free for now, but don't worry, it'll be back very soon 🔥

Please read the warning above and do not interact with this story if you are a minor! Comments and reblogs always appreciated ❤️

Musical Inspiration: Something In The Way by Nirvana

- Part Thirteen -

Sleep should have been the last thing on your mind as you followed Joker out into the warehouse, but your fatigue was starting to grow stronger than your anxiety by now. You actually had no idea what time it was, but it was late enough that exhaustion was beginning to set in behind your eyes. Or was that just from the wild range of emotions you’d experienced in only one day?

You worked on taking steady breaths while you carefully stepped behind him and watched the bottom of his coat sway around his calves to keep yourself from looking at the handful of men standing nearby. Because they were looking at you, you didn’t need to lift your gaze to know that.

Embarrassment heated your cheeks when you arrived at a table with a few folding chairs around it and looked across the table to lock eyes with the man who’d guarded the office door earlier. He stared back for only a second before averting his eyes and rounding the table to pull a chair out for you, making your face burn even hotter. It almost felt as though you were being treated like one of those posh wives that often accompanied many of your wealthy clients, so superior and self-important. The contrast was ironic, funny really. Instead of a ritzy downtown Gotham restaurant, you were in an abandoned warehouse covered in graffiti. And in place of an affluent husband dressed in a pristine suit, you sat next to the Joker, his distinctive purple coat falling open across his lap as he leaned back in his chair, showing where he’d missed a button on his green vest.

The comparison made your throat go dry and you almost choked when you swallowed against it. You had to get out of your own head if you wanted to get through whatever was about to happen without humiliating yourself further.

“Let’s get started then, shall we?”

Joker’s voice snapped you to attention and not a moment after his statement, a man with black hair slicked back against his head and a pointed nose was lead into the room. Your stomach dropped when you noticed what he was wearing. Black tie, white shirt, navy jacket with silver buttons and a shiny police badge over the left pocket.

The heat drained from your face and all of a sudden you felt compelled to run but you couldn’t move. Instead, you stayed firmly planted in your seat, failing to hide the terror in your face while they sat the man down in a chair across from Joker.

He sighed and licked his lips, lacing his fingers together to rest across his stomach before finally speaking. “What kept you so long, Thomas?”

You noticed the man was trembling slightly and starting to sweat, raising the feeling of dread into your throat before he answered, “I-I got news, boss.”

The cold sinking feeling that had fallen over you suddenly dissolved. You were preparing yourself for what he was about to do to this unfortunate police officer, but it seemed that things were more than they appeared, as you’d learned they often are with him.

“Do you? Well then, do tell,” Joker replied in a mocking tone, looking down at the knife from his pocket he’d begun to toy with.

The man, whose name was apparently Thomas, fought hard to swallow before speaking again. “Dent saw the name a-and started askin’ questions. He was gonna shoot me but the Batman-”

Joker’s eyes flashed up from the knife and Thomas froze in place. His mention of Batman instantly raised the tension level in the room, and you found yourself gripping the seat of your chair.

Keeping the knife in his hand, he leaned over the table and growled, “But the Batman wha-t?”

Thomas forced shaky breaths in and out through his nose, keeping his eyes on Joker’s with his jaw clenched tightly. “He… he stopped ‘im,” he managed to utter without his teeth chattering.

“My hero,” Joker answered derisively before leaning back into his seat.

You let the breath you’d been holding out from between your lips while the man in uniform, his forehead now beaded with sweat, blinked and tried to catch his own breath. Joker must enjoy the power he held over people. Inducing so much fear and anxiety by just looking at them. Your heart fluttered when you thought about the thrill it gave you. It was like you’d had been trained to feel more than fear. He stirred up such a complex arousal within you that was hard to explain, even to yourself. Was it because he made you tremble with pleasure and not with pain?

Then your thoughts were interrupted when Joker spoke again, “Now is there more to this little story of yours, Schiff, or have you wasted my very precious time?”

He kept his dull gaze on Thomas, blinking at him, seemingly bored by the whole situation while the man struggled to speak again, his pursed lips quivering. After his tongue slipped out of this mouth to lick the forked scar on his lip, Joker shifted to stand up and Thomas flinched before blurting out, “He’s turnin’ himself in!”

Joker whipped his head back around to stare at the now visibly shaking man with a new fire in his eyes and you stiffened in your chair. There was that thrill again. Your stomach churned a little as a new thought entered your mind. Yes, he enjoyed the power he held over people, and so did you. The way people would freeze, and their eyes widened. The menace that surrounded him came from so much more than a purple suit and smeared greasepaint. He was becoming some obscure figure or representation of fear. His name had been uttered by almost every citizen in Gotham, spoken with an undertone like it left a bitter taste on their tongues, and it wasn’t even his real name. But to the city of Gotham, it was his real name.

“T-…Tomorrow,” Thomas managed to stammer as Joker’s shadow cast over his face.

He approached him and leaned in close, his towering frame hunched forward at his waist. “Wanted to save the, uh, head-line for last, did ya?”

Thomas’s face grew paler, and he vigorously shook his head as Joker licked his lips with a loud smack before continuing, “My time is precious, Schiff, and it’s a terrible thing to waste.”

You took quick breaths in and out through your nose, the air almost burning the back of your throat, like gasoline. It was him. His scent reached your mind and turned your thoughts to how it felt to have him close, as if the smell of him was enough to absorb you. The shirt. Your eyes glanced down at the blue diamond patterned button-up that covered your body and goosebumps suddenly tickled your skin.

“Now. Before any more of it slips away, why don’t you go with these nice gentlemen so they can collect some de-tails from ya, hm?” he said with faux repose before patting Schiff on the cheek.

Two men that you hadn’t noticed approach made you flinch when they appeared behind the man before each took hold of one of his arms to stand him up from the chair. His gaze finally broke away from Joker’s face to scan over the men, making a soft sound, like a whimper, as they silently escorted him out through the side door.

It slammed and you felt like you’d just been dropped into your chair from where you’d been floating somewhere above it, blinking your eyes as if to clear fog from your vision. The warmth of arousal swiftly faded and the uneasy feeling of eyes on you began to crawl up your back. The room was eerily quiet now and you couldn’t seem to dare yourself to move, you just stared ahead into the darkness on the other end of the warehouse.

Then you nearly jumped out of your chair and gasped when you felt hands rest on your shoulders. “What’s the matter, doll face? Afraid of cops, hm?”

So much for getting out of your own head. Your face heated up once again and you fought against the cascade of nervous impulses trying to take you over before turning your head to see Joker’s gloved hand on your shoulder. Your heart fluttered relentlessly, as if trying to flee from your chest every time you saw him.

“Mm well, no need to worry. Thomasover there works for me.”

It was strange, the contrast between the way he spoke to that man and how he spoke to you. It was hard not to read into it. Part of you knew it was because he wanted something from you, but you couldn’t stop the little rising feeling that maybe you meant something to him. Why would you want that from a man like him? Had you been corrupted that much? The whole thing was enough to make your head spin all over again. But you took a deep breath before your thoughts could consume you and finally lifted your gaze to look at him.

He gazed back at you with heavy eyelids and your heart rose up into your throat, your lips parting as you blinked at him. This was all on purpose. Giving them a show, bringing you out here wearing one of his shirts, making sure they could see you. It should have made you upset, the way he paraded you around, but it made you feel something else. Tingles traveled up your neck and through your burning cheeks as a sense of gratification bloomed in your chest. You were his and he wanted them to know that. Maybe you wanted them to know it too. You wanted them to know that you were his… that you’d slept with Gotham’s most dangerous man.

A small smile appeared on your face, the air carrying the smell of greasepaint and burnt matches as the corner of his mouth stretched into a smirk. Still no sign of the bottom of this rabbit hole.

_______________

The deep darkness of a dreamless sleep lifted as your eyes slowly opened, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings where you found yourself waking. This wasn’t your bedroom. Your mind, still somewhat shrouded by sleep, tried to make sense of where you might be instead before jolting you awake, and it all came back to you. It’d only been one night, but it felt like so many more.

You weren’t sure exactly when you’d fallen asleep. But you remembered following him back to his office, there were some passing remarks to the men in the room, you thought maybe then you sat down on the bed, but your exhaustion obscured any more details. What time was it?

Raising your arms over your head, you stretched beneath the blanket that had been placed over top of you and took a deep breath of the cool air. After rubbing your eyes, you heard a small sound coming from the little bathroom in the back of the office. Your breath caught in your throat and a flutter of anxiety came over you when you realized you weren’t alone. Holding still, you listened carefully and heard the sound of water running. It must be him, who else would it be? That maddening flutter grew stronger along with the familiar rise of heat in your face. Was that ever going to stop?

Swallowing against the tightness in your throat, you quietly pulled the blanket away and swung your legs over the side of the mattress, your bare feet making contact with the concrete floor. Once your weight settled onto your tip-toes, you carefully took silent steps toward the bathroom. As you approached the doorway, the sound of running water was accompanied by a metallic clink and a low hum.

You cursed your nerves for being so on edge, it was becoming embarrassing at this point. So, in an attempt to boldly ignore your meek apprehension, you took a breath and stepped into the doorway.

The warmth in your cheeks increased ten-fold as your eyes scanned the sight in front of you. Leaning over the sink while a steamy flow of water ran from the tap, Joker’s reflection in the mirror glanced at you without turning around. He was bringing a straight razor to his face, carefully gliding it along his jawline before rinsing it under the tap and bringing it back to take another row of shaving cream. He was wearing the same thin thank top with only traces of greasepaint left around his ears.

“Mmm well, there she is. A regular sleeping beauty, aren’tcha, doll?” he said, his eyes returning to his own face in the mirror.

Make that twenty-fold. You huffed a breath as you tried to come up with a response, too stunned by something so seemingly ordinary. Sure, you’d seen men shave before, but this was different. It was strange to see him move with such precision, so careful with his hands, running the sharp blade around the rough edges of his scars with ease. His penchant for chaos came with a certain finesse, an accuracy that he made appear so effortless. Perhaps you’d been staring too long.

“Now that you’ve rejoined the, uh, land of the living, we have some work to do.”

You blinked and tore your gaze away from the mirror, trying to look anywhere else before it finally landed on the tile floor. “Um… what kind of work?”

He chuckled and you could feel him looking at you in the mirror again when he answered, “The kind that requires some subtlety, a little nuance that no one else here can measure up to.”

Your eyes lifted from the floor after you thought for a moment about what he said and you asked, “No one else but me?”

“You catch on quick, baby doll,” he replied, clicking his tongue as he swiped away the last bit of shaving cream from his face. Then he set the razor on the edge of the sink and turned around, looking you up and down as he closed the gap between you. “It’s your time to shineonce again.”

That feeling had begun to fill your chest. That strange sense of pride tangled up with your willingness to do more, your desire to please. You didn’t seem to be in control of it, that was something you gave up days ago, but you could see it blurring the line between what was right and what was wrong even further. Soon you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

He stopped in front of you, keeping your gaze locked with his as you felt the ghost of his breath on your skin. The more he looked at you like that, the stronger that feeling was becoming. He knew it too, didn’t he? He knew that you belonged to him by now and you had no wish to put a stop to it, even after everything you’d seen.

“What do you want me to do?”

A small smirk appeared on his face and he answered in a low voice, “That’s what I like to hear, doll.”

The heat that had been rising in your body came to a sudden halt when he then turned to pass you through the doorway, leaving you taking slow breaths to regain what little composure you could manage.

“This one’s simple,” he called over his shoulder from his desk. “All you gotta do is blend in. Be a fly on the wall, so to speak.”

Were you ever going to be able to keep your mind out of the gutter whenever he got close? Probably not. But you could try to hide it. After letting out one more breath, you turned to follow him into the office where he’d sat at his desk with the small hand held mirror you’d seen before, dipping his fingers into a jar of white paint before starting to smear it across his face.

“Blend in where?”

He chuckled, scooping more paint out cover his jaw line. Then without looking up from the mirror he answered, “Check the suitcase by the bed.”

A tattered leather suitcase beside the bed quickly caught your eye. You weren’t sure if he’d ever answered any of your questions directly before and it seemed that was unlikely to change soon, so you tentatively followed his instruction. It wasn’t heavy when you picked it up to place it on the bed. Then after clicking the latches open, you shifted your gaze toward the desk. He’d moved on to smudging black around his eyes, still not turning to look at you. Those insidious butterflies in your stomach made themselves known and in an attempt to shoo them away, you hurriedly lifted the lid on the leather case.

Not sure what you were expecting to see in the first place, you blinked for a moment at the articles of clothing folded neatly inside before reaching in to pick them up. On top was a black pencil skirt, just the right length for the hem to lay above your knees, and beneath it was a deep purple cardigan with opalescent buttons down the front. The purple knit fabric matched that of his coat almost exactly. Heat returned to your cheeks then your eye caught sight of a pair of black heels in the bottom of the case.

“Can’t have you going out in that, hm?”

Your heart leapt into its familiar place in your throat as you looked down at his shirt you were still wearing, goosebumps crawling up your back before you turned around and nearly ran into him. He’d finished with the bright smear of red on his mouth and was now standing over you, the look in his eyes drawing even more warmth to the surface of your skin.

His fingers slid down your wrist before he took your hand in his, turning your palm upwards as his eyes remained locked with yours, your breath now a shallow huff. After reaching into his pocket, you felt him place something in your hand.

Holding back the excitement climbing up behind your tongue, you forced your eyes down. It was some kind of ID card. In bold letters along the bottom, it read “PRESS” and in the corner, you saw an image of yourself. Your eyes widened when you recognized it as the photo from your driver’s license.

Your eyes darting back up to his face, you asked, “What’s this?”

He raised an eyebrow and replied, “What does it look like?”

“How did you get my license photo?”

A chuckle vibrated in his throat and he turned away from you to go back to his desk where he took something from one of the drawers.

“Always so many questions, doll. But never the right ones.”

_______________

It was hard to keep yourself from fidgeting with the hem of the skirt. It was actually very well made and fit you like a glove, but your nerves were getting the best of you once again. You sat in the backseat of an SUV with tinted windows where Joker had just slid in next to you moments ago.

The brightness of the morning sun was only partially lessened by the darkened glass, it’s beams still nearly blinding where it peeked out from between buildings. Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, the other clutching the ID card, you squinted out the window to try to discern where you here headed. He’d left you to get cleaned up and dressed then took you straight to this car outside where a driver was waiting, not a word exchanged between anyone. He said this would be simple, but you couldn’t keep your stomach from tying into a tense knot while you worried over what you were expected to do.

“Ok, doll. Like I said, this one’s simple.”

His timing couldn’t have been better. You turned away from the window to see him reach into his coat pocket, retrieving something small that he held between his fingertips.

“With this, you can be my eyes and ears,” he said, holding it out.

It was a little black earpiece, small enough to fit comfortably in your ear. When you lifted your eyes, about to ask what it was for, you stopped before the words could exit your lips. He’d shifted closer to you and reached out to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. The leather of his glove brushed against your cheek, rendering it scorching as he placed the small device in your ear.

“You are now an esteemed member of the press and today you’ve scored the opportunity to report on the biggest story sweeping the city…” he grinned, taking the ID from your hand and clipping it to your sweater. “The Batman is turning himself in.”

Next thing you knew, the car pulled up to the curb then the man sitting in the front seat reached behind him and pushed your door open. The cool air rushed over your face and you whipped back around, mouth open but no questions left to ask.

“Your time to shine, baby girl.”

Your feet carried you toward the tall building in front of you, its ground floor lined with windows while your chest shuddered against the quick breaths you forced in and out of it. You hadn’t been given much instruction, but you knew standing around on the sidewalk looking confused wasn’t what you should be doing. Scanning the entrance in search of where you should be going, you noticed a small crowd entering the door on the far end of the building and turned toward it.

“Bingo. You’re gettin’ good at this, doll.”

His voice suddenly rumbling in your ear sent a rush down your back and you almost stopped in your tracks, but you pressed forward as warmth filled your face, trying to keep your expression calm and unassuming. You had to resist looking behind you to look for the car you knew he must be watching you from.

After taking a quick glance around you to make sure you were still alone, you swallowed and asked quietly, “Can you hear me?”

He answered with a low chuckle and said, “Mm loud and clear, sweetheart.”

Great, how were you supposed to stay composed when it felt like he was following right behind you? But the door was getting closer, and you didn’t have much time to ask questions. Now you could see inside where news cameras were all pointed in the same direction.

“Are you gonna tell me what to do?”

“Eyes and ears, doll. Your big story awaits.”

He probably heard the frustrated sigh you couldn’t hold back as you pulled the glass door open to follow the crowd, his giggle tickling in your ear.

The large conference room was packed with people sitting in rows in front of a small stage where a podium was set up, more standing along the walls and backed all the way up to the door. You quietly squeezed behind the group just inside the entrance and made your way toward the last spot against the wall, eyeing the handful of police officers to your right. As if your nerves weren’t weighing heavy enough on you, now there were cops here?

You looked down at the press badge clipped to your sweater and tried to relax. Just blend in, they weren’t there for you. Staring at the podium rigged with a handful of microphones across the room, his words echoed in your head, the Batman is tuning himself in.

Then the crowd gradually fell silent when flashes and the clicking of cameras followed a man with a head of sandy blonde hair as he stepped up to the podium. You recognized his face from his campaign ads right away.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. I’ve called this press conference for two reasons. Firstly, to ensure the citizens of Gotham that everything that can be done over the Joker killings is being done.” Harvey Dent continued to speak over contentions from the crowd and said, “Secondly, because the Batman has offered to turn himself in. But first, let’s consider the situation. Should we give in to this terrorist’s demands?”

You couldn’t understand the rest over Joker’s burst of laughter in your ear. You quickly covered it with your hand to smother the sound before he held his giggles back and said, “Me? A Terrorist? Oh Harvey, you’re gonna make me blush.”

The crowd continued the argue against him until Harvey made a promise. “The Batman will have to answer to the laws he’s broken but to us, not to this mad man.”

A mad man. You supposed that wasn’t untrue. You’d seen enough to know that. But it still somehow didn’t feel true to you. Like it was what people said because they felt threatened by him. They were frightened and faced with a particular unease, unable to explain what it was. It gripped them and wouldn’t let them look away. You felt it too. But it didn’t scare you away, it only drew you closer, didn’t it?

Before you fell further into your thoughts, agitated demands for the Batman to turn himself in echoed through the room as Dent’s speech failed to bring any sense of righteousness to the crowd of cops and reporters.

“So be it. Take the Batman into custody.”

Everyone fell silent, waiting for the vigilante to step forward. Was that really about to happen? But Harvey waited only a moment before he stated to the crowd, “I am the Batman.”

Disbelief settled over the room, everyone watching as a few officers approached him to put him in handcuffs and swiftly lead him off of the stage. Then the hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep chuckle resounded in your ear.

“Ahhh, well there you have it. Now Harvey wants to play.”

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

Taglist: @amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @liz-rdwitch @germansarechill @thesadvampire @tsukiakarinobara @heavymetalnarwhal @neverputsaltinyoureyes @apocalypticwafflekitten @astheworlddturns @komatheterrible @jokersqueenofchaos @killingjokee @into-crazy @youmaycallmebrian @jslittlebirdie @vipervixxen

Late Night Devil

A/N: This is my fic for the Citrus Dome Server collab! I’ve spent many hours crying over it, I hope you enjoy it! Make sure you check out the other pieces of the collab too because they’re written by amazing writers!! @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​

Read the other fics for the collab here!

Word count: 5.7k

Thank you @suckersuki for saving my ass and making this beautiful banner 💕

 Worship has always been a part of your daily routine. Each season you place the fruits of your labor at the altar. Every day you pray. It’s human nature, seeking answers from the Gods. But you never expected one to answer…

Warm summer breeze tickled at your face, your hair flowing freely in front of your face making your nose itch. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you tune out the conversation your parents are having in favour of focusing your attention on the pavement ahead of you. Your eyes stinging and heavy from the lack of sleep you’ve been getting since the breakup. A bitter aftertaste stings the back of your throat as the events replay in your mind. The breakup had been sudden, although you couldn’t say you were completely caught off guard. Regardless of how underwhelming it had been, the way you’d been humiliated so carelessly had hurt your pride.

As you approached closer to the temple, a strange feeling of anxiety crawled into your stomach and pushed down heavily on your chest. It was unlike you to feel such unease coming to the temple of the gods, normally the divine power helped bring a sense of peace into your life.

Today was another story it seemed, maybe it was the fact that your emotions were all over the place and the pain and hate you felt slowly bubbling up over being cheated on were muddling with the rest of your feelings. Warm orange rays of sunlight slowly begin to peek over the tops of the mountains, shrouding the forest in a comforting glow. The sky is light with pinks and oranges, the dark blue night sky slowly fading away as a light cerulean takes over. It was barely six in the morning, but your family had always been adamant about being early to bring your offerings for the gods.

Nature seemed to come alive around you, birds chirping, flowers blooming with lush petals and vibrant colours. It was the summer solstice, a period of time where the gods’ presence was closer to the human world than any other time of the year.

However, despite it being such a juvinating day you were feeling anything but jovial. The basket resting on your arm was nearly filled to the brim with seasonal fruits that you had picked earlier that morning. The better quality the offerings and the more abundant they were signified a better season and prosperity blessed upon your family from the gods.

“Y/n what’s the matter?” your mother asks, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Nothing, just tired” you mumble hoping that she’ll stop questioning you before it starts.

“Well make sure you don’t walk into the temple like that, we can’t afford to attract any negativity this season” she scolds, something you’ve heard since becoming your family’s link between your world and the God’s.

When it had happened you were instantly filled with dread, the wellbeing of your entire family rested on your shoulders. Four times a year you needed to make sure that your emotions were in check, a single negative thought even for a fleeting second would have an impact on your family’s future until the next solstice. The gods were very picky when it came to their offerings, being the so-called spokesperson for your family meant that for the entire time you were in the temple you couldn’t think of anything else.

One minor distraction was enough to send a year’s worth of bad luck onto your family. You had never once messed up in the ten years that you’d been doing this, but it never stopped your parents from reminding you incessantly that you needed to be in the right state of mind. It was annoying, but you’d gotten used to it over the years.

Today however, you had little patience with your mother. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes you give her a tight smile and nod, returning your gaze ahead of you.

The sun was beginning to rise higher in the sky, light pinks and oranges gradually fading into a light blue. The ruby red pillars of the temple gradually came into view, peeking through thick tangled branches.

The closer you got to the temple, the heavier the lump of dread feels in your stomach. It’s so close to swallowing you whole that you can feel the bile creeping up your throat. Sticky black fingers made of tar wrap themselves around your throat. The second you step foot onto temple grounds you can feel the atmosphere change.

A harsh warm breeze whips against your hair, running along your exposed arms and face. Almost like a warning, you need to get yourself together. Shoving down every negative feeling that’s made itself home in your body you take a few deep breaths and focus on calming your emotions.

From the corner of your eye you can see your parents give you a wary side eye but you flash them a reassuring smile. You can do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, one stupid break up will not be the reason you bring bad fortune upon your family. You’d never hear the end of it.

As you walk up the narrow winding steps to the shrine you can feel the spiritual energy radiating from the soles of your feet up to the top of your head. The concerned gazes of your parents burn holes into the back of your head. Not only were you more in tune with the realm of the gods during the solstice, but the energy of the earth as a whole intensified as well.

Deep breaths in and out. Focus on the wicker handle of the basket digging uncomfortably into your arm. Anything to distract your mind from thinking about finding Bakugou kissing Cami-Nope.

Your grip around the basket handle tightens, small pieces of it begin to poke at your skin giving you something to focus your attention on.

When you finally reach the top of the stairs, your rage has finally simmered down enough to allow you to ease your death grip on the basket.

A heavy hand on your shoulder draws your attention up to your father’s solemn eyes. You were usually good at hiding your emotions, the fact that everything you were feeling now was on full display was irritating you to no end.

“I’m fine!” You reassure them once more but you can tell they don’t believe you. You can’t blame them, you haven’t told them anything about your relationship ending and you don’t intend to either. You knew you were acting differently these last few weeks but you didn’t need anyone else knowing about the humiliating way things had ended between you and Bakugou.

Your parents accompany you into the temple but being the spiritual link for your family, only you are allowed to enter the inner rooms which host the shrines for each god. In the beginning it had been exciting to you, but now years later it was beginning to feel like a chore. It didn’t matter where you were, four times a year you needed to come home and pray for good health and wealth and prosperity. You pass by Izuku on your way into the room, his presence was usually calming but the sight of him now only served to remind you of Bakugou. Forcing a polite smile on your lips you give him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing on your way towards the altars.

The prayers had gone well, at least you had assumed they had. You had no problems with the gods, other than Enji who usually gave you a hard time regardless of how good of a mood you were in so you didn’t take it personally.  Grabbing the empty basket you exit the room and make your way outside. Finally able to let your emotions pour out once more, you find yourself becoming fixated on the onslaught of hatred, revenge, and hurt that were lying dormant under your skin. You wanted revenge, you wanted to humiliate him the way he’d hurt you. 

You didn’t understand why he’d done it, you had been under the false presumption that your relationship was fine. If it hadn’t been for Bakugou cheating on you in your own apartment, with the girl he’d told you so many times NOT to worry about you might have felt less bitter. But there was nothing that could quench your desire for revenge other than making him regret what he’d done to you in a way that would stick with him forever.

Blinking out of your daydream you realize that you’ve wandered into a part of the temple that you’ve never been to before. It’s darker and the energy feels heavier compared to the other sections. Your feet seem to move of their own will as you approach a door that looks as though it hasn’t been opened in ages. You expect to find it locked, but much to your surprise the handle twists open with no resistance. 

The room is even darker than the hallway, a small window being the only source of light casting a gloomy look throughout it. Along the back wall of the room is what you think is another altar, except as you approach it it’s covered in dust. It’s apparent to you that no one has been in this room for a long time. Cautiously you wipe away the dust covering the plaque on the front of the altar.

“God of vengeance, Dabi” The second the name leaves you lips the door slams shut making you jump in shock. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and every nerve is screaming at you to run.

“Lost, dollface?” A voice you’ve never heard before but feels so strangely familiar at the same time makes you nearly jump out of your skin and whip around to face them. You had been facing the door ready to walk out, no one had been in here before you so where did the man standing in front of you come from.

You’re suddenly so dumbstruck that you can’t even formulate a response, your eyes are too busy taking in his unusual appearance. Spiky black hair, the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen with patches of his skin on most of his face and neck that are stapled together. Your eyes travel down farther and notice that not only is his face badly burnt but a significant portion of his body is.

The energy you’re getting from his presence is overwhelmingly not human, but it’s not demonic either. At least, you’re fairly sure it isn’t. Meaning that the person standing before you was a god.

“Don’t look so shocked, you did wander in here didn’t you? What were you expecting to find?”

“Who are you?” The question feels stupid of you to ask.

“Shouldn’t you know that already?” Your mind is racing with a hundred different things to say, but none of them make it past your lips. Something about him is different from the rest of the gods you’ve met before. There’s what feels like an underlying evil in him despite being a god.

“What’s on your mind doll? It’s obviously important enough to be thinking about while you’re in the presence of a God” His coy smile and low voice laced with honey and temptation make you want to answer him even though you know you shouldn’t.

“Why do you care?” Raising an eyebrow questioningly, a tiny voice at the back of your mind begins to scold you for speaking to a god so casually. Not only could he clearly incinerate you in a flash but he could also influence the fate of your family’s fortune. But you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit. For the last decade of your life you’ve spent it dedicated to bringing your parents good fortune only to end up with your own misfortune. You knew you were pushing it, you knew that one slip up and you’d never hear the end of it. But the rage bubbling it’s way slowly up your body almost feels like it’s growing stronger in his presence.

“I always care about pretty little things who wander up to MY altar with such negative energy.”

“Your altar? Funny how I’ve never heard of you before. Can’t be that important if your altar is blocked off from the rest of the temple. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m leaving” Turning on your heel you start walking back to the door hoping that you’ll be able to leave before digging yourself a deeper grave.

“Now now, is that any way to speak to a god?” Within seconds the atmosphere changes, andBlue flames sprout up around you blocking you from leaving the room. They’re hotter than any fire you’ve ever been near before, you don’t even need to be standing directly in front of them to feel how much heat they radiate. Dabi’s eyes are glowing with such an intense gaze of lust in your eyes that it works its way under your skin.

It doesn’t take you long to understand why his shrine had been locked off from the rest of the altars. Dabi might have been a god but there was nothing heavenly about him. Gradually the smell of smoke began to fill your lungs in an unpleasant way despite nothing in the room burning.

“Wanna try that again? Maybe a little nicer this time huh?” Dabi’s body was right behind yours, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. Hot breath hitting against you making you shiver involuntarily.

“Don’t you have better things to worry about?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in front of the god of vengeance. The one god who can help you work out this little problem you’ve got going on”

“Why do you want to help me so bad?”

“I like to think of myself as a generous god” He jokes but you can already tell that Dabi is anything but  generous. His expression changes when you don’t lighten up at his attempt to change the mood of the conversation.

“What can I say, I love a good revenge story. It doesn’t hurt if they’re not bad to look at either”

Sighing, you begin to mull over his proposal in your mind. You can’t deny that it would be just a little satisfying to have a god on your side. It was petty, the dumbest kind of revenge that anyone could plot for but the images of Bakugou making out with someone who wasn’t you in your own bed no less were branded permanently in your mind. Maybe summoning Dabi was a blessing in disguise, besides, he was a god after all. It wasn’t like he was going to ask you for your soul.

“Fine, what do you want in exchange?”You figured the most he probably wanted was a bigger offering next season.

“We’ll discuss that when it comes up”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

You weren’t even sure why Dabi had decided to waste his time in the human world. In his own words he was bored of being in his own realm and figured that sticking around your “depressed ass” would give him some form of entertainment.

Thankfully you didn’t live with your parents anymore, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain having a random man they’d never seen before stuck to your side twenty-four hours a day. In all honesty, you didn’t know why he’d been so interested in helping you get revenge on Bakugou but there wasn’t any need for you to question it. He was the god of vengeance after all.

Even if this did seem like a small and petty reason to help you out.

The first week you had been so caught in helping Dabi adjust to human life that you’d almost forgotten why he was there in the first place. You would have thought that for a god he’d have been at least somewhat competent at learning how to work something as simple as the shower.

You definitely hadn’t expected him to be standing in the bathtub naked, with the cockiest smirk on his face while you yelped and covered your eyes, willing with every fiber in your body for your heart to stop racing.

“Could you at least cover yourself before calling me in here?” You complain, still shielding your eyes as you walk over to turn on the shower for him.

“Can’t you just use your godly powers or whatever to just do it for you?” Mumbling mostly to yourself, you adjust the temperature before hurrying out of the bathroom, trying not to think about his dick and how badly you would’ve gotten on your knees for him if he had asked.

“That would be a waste of my godly powers then, don’t you think?” 

You don’t even need to look at him to see the cocky smirk on his face. Slamming the bathroom door shut behind you, you rush back into your room hoping that he at least possesses enough common sense to know how to turn the shower off.

The following days go by with Dabi finding a new way to tease you, whether it was walking around the house shirtless or him walking in on you taking a shower. To say that you were up to your neck with the desire to have him fuck you senseless one minute and wanting to strangle the life out of him the next was an understatement. But according to Dabi, once you had both verbally agreed on the deal you’d made he couldn’t leave until the job was finished. 

Meaning, that until you got revenge on Bakugou, Dabi was going to be sticking around. Throughout the time that you spent together, Dabi had told you more than you thought you would get out of him. How he’d gotten his scars, why his altar had been separated from the others. As much as people needed vengeance, praying to a god as powerful as Dabi meant that in the wrong hands his powers could very well cause irreversible damage. Not that he had a problem with it, but the priests had decided long ago that his altar needed to be kept away from vengeful hearts. 

Until you came along of course, he’d immediately noticed your energy the second you had stepped foot in the temple. No matter how hard you tried to conceal your feelings, Dabi had noticed them and led you straight to his altar. You had been a little mad at first, having been so easily caught trapped but the more you thought about it the less you cared. Besides, you were beginning to enjoy his company around your empty apartment. 

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

Finally, after almost three weeks of putting up with him,  the opportunity to get back at Bakugou presented itself.

“Have you ever been clubbing?” you ask over breakfast that morning.

Leaning back in his chair, Dabi’s curious eyes meet yours.

“What are you planning?”

“Bakugou’s best friend is having his birthday party at this club and he’s probably going to be there too. You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to. I can find someone else if you’re uncom-”

“I’m not uncomfortable. That’s what I’m here for right?”

“Well I was just asking since you’re like, what, a couple centuries old? It might be weird to go dancing with all these young people” you flash him an innocent smile at his unamused glare.

“Last time I checked your eyes were practically begging me to fuck you” He retorts making you choke on your coffee. Smirking in victory he leans in closely to whisper in your ear.

“Try harder next time doll”  

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。..·

The rest of the day flew by and the closer the time got for you to leave, the more anxious you felt. You couldn’t help but start to doubt everything about your plan for revenge. For all you knew, Bakugou could care less about who you were hooking up with as long as he was getting his dick wet.

“Are you doubting me?” Dabi teased as you make your way to the club.

“No, but you don’t know what he’s like.”

You didn’t need to wait long to get in the club, your tight black dress and Dabi’s “charm” were more than enough to allow you to skip the line and get in. His hand never leaves your lower back  as you make your way through the crowd and towards the bar. The two of you down a few shots, the alcohol makes its way through your veins and before long you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. 

Grabbing Dabi’s hand you drag him to the dance floor, it doesn’t take him long to get the hang of grinding up on you and for once you’re not mad about him being a tease. His hand is firmly resting on your hip, you’re a bit more tipsy than you had wanted to get but the song the dj is playing is setting the mood making you hot and bothered. When Dabi’s lips start kissing their way along the side of your neck you’re more than willing to give him more space to leave a few marks.

Your eyes are closed as your bodies grind together and you don’t notice the way Bakugou is glaring with murderous intent at Dabi. Just as you’re starting to loosen up a distance voice snaps you out of your trance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Opening your eyes you find Bakugou standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“What does it look like I’m doing. I’m dancing” the song that were dancing to ends and another more upbeat one follows.

“With him? I knew your standards were low but I didn’t think you were that desperate” He snorts, your blood instantly boils making the back of your neck prickle with rage.

“Hmm, let’s take this outside. What do you say?” Dabi asks with a playful tone in his voice.

“Whatever” Bakugou grumbles before shoving his way through the crowd of drunk dancing bodies.

Dabi and Bakugou confronting each other was something you hadn’t thought was going to happen when you’d agreed to let Dabi help you get your revenge on him. But as luck would have it, here you were standing in an alley outside of the club with Dabi in front of you and Bakugou glaring daggers into him.

“Oi, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but she’s mine.”

“Yours? Aren’t you the dickhead who cheated on her? Why would she want you back” Dabi’s laugh isn’t teasing like the ones you’ve heard before. It’s condescending, and you start to feel an energy you’ve never felt before radiating off of him.

“Tell me, dollface.” His voice is deeper and when he turns to look back at you his eyes are darker with what you hope is  “Is this mutt really the one you want fucking you right now?” Bakugou’s jaw twitches and he clenches his fist ready to swing at Dabi.

“Tch, down boy” he sighs and just like that Bakugou’s body is slammed down to the cement. You’ve never seen Dabi use his powers before and it does nothing to calm the raging storm of lust about to boil over in your.

“Now, if you don’t mind I’m going to pick up where I left off before you rudely interrupted.” Your wide eyes are still focused on Bakugou’s form kneeling behind Dabi, until he grabs your jaw with one hand and backs you up against the wall.

“I’d much rather you focus on me than him” He mumbles, giving you a sly smile before claiming your lips in a heated kiss. His lips are so much better than you imagined, soft and yet rough at the same time. The cold staples on the corner of his lips lightly scrape against your skin but you don’t care. Sliding your hands underneath his shirt you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him in closer to you.

Your nails clawing at his back hard enough to make him hiss and bite down harshly on the sensitive skin where your neck and shoulders met. If your brain wasn’t so muddled with pleasure it might have been more painful but it only sent sparks throughout your whole body. It didn’t matter how tightly you grabbed him and pulled him closer into you, it wasn’t enough.

 Dabi hooked your right leg over his hip, the other hand trailing up the back of your neck tangling his hand in your hair and pulling it back. The feeling of his lips sucking dark marks onto your flesh elicited a loud wanton moan from your lips. Your fingers buried themselves in his raven locks tugging his head up so you can slip your tongue between his lips. The hand holding your thigh tightens as a carnal growl makes its way up his throat.

Kissing a god was nothing like you’d ever experienced before, it felt like with each kiss he was stealing the air right from your lungs.

If you were being completely honest with yourself, Dabi could have ended your life right then and there and you would have let him. Throughout the past few weeks he’s been living with you, you’ve pictured this in your mind countless times. But you’d never thought that there was a chance in hell that it was ever going to happen. Yet here you were, back scraping against the brick wall of the club’s alley with Dabi’s fingers digging into your hips in a way that would leave their mark there for days.

His lips moved against yours like he was a man starved of touch and affection, his teeth bit harshly against your bottom lip pulling a half strangled moan from your throat. His hands, which felt like they were growing hotter every time he brushed against your bare skin, tightened their hold on your hips to grind you against his dick. The sharp hiss he lets out goes straight to your already throbbing pussy, something about knowing that you’re the one making him feel like  this and lose control of himself just makes you want to push him farther and see how long it’ll take to break him.

Reaching down between your bodies you grab his hips trying to bring them closer to yours for more much needed friction. The action makes Dabi chuckle against your lips.

“Impatient aren’t we princess?” Dabi tries to come off as nonchalant but he wants it just as much you do. He’s been holding out for weeks, at first he just enjoyed making you flustered, pushing all your buttons to see how you’d react. But the longer he spent with you the more his feelings turned from curiosity to genuine interest and the small embers of lust that lay dormant in his gut had erupted into a fire that was rapidly consuming him.

It was dirty and rushed, teeth clacking together as you both tried to bring your bodies closer together until there was not an inch of space left between you. Your dress was now barely hanging on to your hips, but you couldn’t care less because the only thing on your mind was feeling Dabi inside you NOW. Rolling yourself against his dick the best you can while having one leg on the ground, you can’t help but smirk when Dabi moans into your mouth. His hand slides down your stomach, fingers teasing your thighs where the hem of your dress meets your exposed skin before inching closer to where you want him most. His arm sets your leg down in favour of spreading your legs wider for him, tugging your dress up even higher to give himself a better view.

“So fucking wet and I haven’t even touched you yet” Dabi laughs in your ear, enjoying the way you inhale sharply as his fingers circle your puffy clit.

“Dabi, don’t be a tease” you shoot back, trying to sound as dominant as you can but instead it comes out as a breathy whine. The contrast of his soft top lip combined with the roughness of his bottom lip against your neck was making you dizzy.  It was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure, and it was only serving to turn you on even more knowing that you had provoked him into doing this.

“You know, I was going to fuck you anyway but don’t you think it’s a little more vengeful if I show your charming ex how to really make you scream?” You were so distracted by the feeling of finally letting out your sexual frustrations that you’d forgotten all about Bakugou who was still under Dabi’s influence.

Before you can answer him, Dabi slides two fingers into you with ease curling them at just the right angle to have you panting against his neck. His movements are anything but gentle and he gives you no time to adjust to his pace as he works his fingers in and out of your dripping  pussy. Your hands wrap around his biceps, allowing you to have some sort of stability while he’s finger fucking you fast enough to leave you light headed.

“Such a fucking tight pussy you’ve got doll” he chuckles breathlessly. His thumb nudges against your clit tightening the coil of white heat rapidly building up in your lower stomach. His fingers are hitting against your sweet spot so perfectly, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs in breathy moans as he increases his pace.

 The wet sloppy sounds of his fingers in you are only heightening your arousal. Dabi’s lips start sucking against the space between your neck and shoulders, making you tilt your head to give him better access. You’re so close you can feel yourself coming undone, without warning Dabi bites down hard enough to break the skin sending you towards your first orgasm.  You don’t even care that you’re moaning loud enough for anyone to hear you, Dabi’s fingers don’t stop giving you no chance to recover.

“Come on princess, I know you’ve got another one for me. Cum on my fucking fingers like a good slut” his rough voice right against your ear does nothing to help bring you down from your high. You’re helpless to do anything but let yourself become putty in his hands as another orgasm leaves you breathless and nearly sobbing against him.

You whine at the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you, but you don’t have to wait long before he turns your body around to face the wall,  bending you over and unzipping his jeans to free his aching cock.

“Remember when I said we’d discuss what I wanted in exchange for helping you out?” he asks, his voice raw with arousal as he slides the tip of his cock against your dripping folds. You can barely remember what he’s talking about, your mind is so focused on wanting to feel him inside you that you can barely keep track of what he’s saying.

“I think this is a pretty good exchange don’t you think?” Not giving you a chance to respond he grabs your hip with one hand and tangles your hair with the other while sheathing his cock fully inside you with one sharp thrust. Your nails dig into the brick wall as you fail to bite back a scream. He’s so thick that you can feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your walls with each thrust. The hand fisting your hair tightens its grip, pulling your head back towards him. Dabi’s hot breaths are hitting against the base of your neck, the feeling of him inside you is making your head spin with pleasure.

“Go on, tell  him who’s fucking you this good” Dabi’s hips are slapping against your ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less.

“You are” you whimper but it’s not good enough.

“Say my fucking name” he growls in your ear before reaching down to rub hard circles against your clit.

“F-fuck! Dabi! You feel so fucking good” you cry out as another orgasm washes over you making your legs feel like jelly.  You’re almost certain that anyone within a two block radius can hear how loud you’re screaming but you don’t care. Before you can process what’s happening Dabi pulls out of you flipping you back around to face him and lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his waist he slowly pushes back into your hot walls.

“Such a greedy cunt you have, dollface” he grunts and you can’t do anything except nod. Your back hits the wall as Dabi’s hips rut against yours, the new angle allowing him to hit your g-spot with every thrust. His hand wraps around your throat, restricting your air flow and making your pussy clench around him.

“You like it when I choke you? Such a nasty little whore” he laughs, tightening the grip he has around your neck until the edges of your vision start to blacken.

“Your pussy’s so good I might have to keep you” You’re not even sure how he’s still managing to speak in full sentences, if there was anything that reminded you that Dabi was a god it was his insane stamina. He’d already fucked you through three orgasms without being anywhere near cumming. Not only that, but the force he was using the fuck you with was sure to leave you unable to walk for a week.

Your thighs tighten around his waist as he begins rubbing your clit once again making you whine loudly.

“Too much”

“You can take it baby” His fingers show you no mercy causing you to throw your head back against the wall. Your hands push against his shoulders trying to move him away but Dabi is a lot stronger than you gave him credit for.

“Cum on my fucking cock, you can do it. Show him what a good little slut you are for me” Your fingers are gripping his hair so hard you’re sure you’ve pulled some out as you cum around his dick, your eyes struggling to stay open as you feel liquid splashing against your thighs.

“That’s my girl, squirt all over my cock” His fingers grip your jaw as he brings your lips together in another heated kiss. His thrusts become sloppier and more rushed as he chases his own release.

“Fuck Dabi cum in me” you moan against his lips and he curses under his breath as he spills thick ropes of hot cum inside you. Your breath is coming out in short pants and you can barely stand on your legs when Dabi puts you down. You can feel his cum start to drip down your thighs as he presses a soft kiss against your lips. Your eyes finally gaze down towards Bakugou who looks like he’s about to burst a vein. His eyes are burning holes into your neck where dozens of dark marks litter your skin. From the sounds he’s making, you can tell he wants to say something but under Dabi’s control he’s powerless to do anything.

“How was that for revenge?” Dabi smirks.

“I don’t know, might have to try again at home” you reply cheekily.

“What makes you think you’re making it back home? I meant it when I said I was keeping you”

Masterlist 

How Aaron Dessner and Taylor Swift Stripped Down Her Sound on ‘Folklore’

By: Jon Blistein for Rolling Stone Date: July 24th 2020

At the beginning of March, the National’s Aaron Dessner traveled back to the United States from Paris, where he’d been living with his family, to shack up at Sonic Ranch Studio in Tornillo, Texas to work on the next Big Red Machine album with Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon. Those plans - obviously - soon shifted, as the reality of the COVID-19 pandemic set in. Dessner and his family were able to relocate to their home in upstate New York as lockdown orders went into effect, and the musician soon settled into a groove of homeschooling his kids and able to focus fully on music in a way he hadn’t in a while, due to the National’s regularly rigorous touring schedule.

In the middle of what Dessner describes as one of the most productive moments of his career, Taylor Swift called. A longtime and avowed fan of the National, Swift asked if Dessner wanted to try collaborating on a few songs remotely. He said of course, and asked if she was looking for anything in particular. He noted that he had plenty of material at the ready, but acknowledged he’d been in a more experimental mood, due to the Big Red Machine sessions; not to mention, Dessner added, he’d never really ventured into the pop world Swift has dominated for well over a decade. She told him to send everything he had.

“I think she was interested in the emotions that she feels in some of the music that I’ve made,” Dessner tells Rolling Stone.” So I just sent her a folder of things I’d done recently and was excited about. Hours after, she sent back a fully written version of ‘Cardigan.’ It was like a lightning bolt struck the house.”

Over the next few months, Dessner and Swift crafted the bulk of Swift’s eighth studio album, Folklore. Dessner spoke with Rolling Stone about working with Swift, their instant chemistry, how the album developed under a thick cloud of secrecy and more.

When Taylor first reached out, did she have a specific vision in mind for the album? She was a bit cryptic. I didn’t know that we were actually working on a record for quite a while. It just seemed that she was seeking me out to collaborate. And then we were both feeling very inspired by it. Once there were six or seven songs that we had written over a couple of weeks, she said, “Hey can we talk?” Then she said, ‘This is what I’m imagining,’ and started to tell me about the concept of Folklore. Then she mentioned that she’d written some songs at an earlier stage with Jack [Antonoff], and they felt like they really fit together with what we were doing. It was a very inspiring, exhilarating collaborative process that was almost entirely remote. Very sort of warp speed, but also something about it felt like we were going toe-to-toe and in a good pocket.

After “Cardigan,” how did these songs develop and do you think she pushed you in any new directions as a songwriter? When you’re working with someone new, it takes a second to understand their instincts and range. It’s not really conscious. She wrote “Cardigan,” and then “Seven,” then “Peace.” They kind of set a road map, because “Cardigan” was this kind of experimental ballad, the closest thing to a pop song on the record, but it’s not really. It’s this emotional thing, but it has some strange sounds in it. “Seven” is this kind of nostalgic, emotional folk song. Even before she sang to it, I felt this nostalgia, wistful feeling in it, and I think that’s what she gravitated towards. And “Peace,” that just showed me the incredible versatility that she had. That song is just three harmonized bass lines and a pulse. I love to play bass like that - play one line then harmonize another, and another, which is a behavior I stole from Justin Vernon, because he’s done that on other things we’ve done together. And actually, that’s his pulse, he sent me that pulse and said, “Do something with this.” But when she wrote that song, which kind of reminds me of a Joni Mitchell song over a harmonized bassline and a pulse, that was kind of like, “Woah, anything can happen here.” That’s not easy to do. 

So, in the morning I would wake up and try to be productive. “Mad Woman” is one I wrote shortly after that, in terms of sound world, felt very related to “Cardigan” and “Seven.” I do have a way of playing piano where it’s very melodic and emotional, but then often it’s great if whoever’s singing doesn’t sing exactly what’s in the piano melody, but maybe it’s connected in some way. There was just some chemistry happening with her and how she was relating to those ideas.

“Epiphany” was something she had an idea for, and then I imagined these glacial, Icelandic sounds with distended chords and this almost classical feeling. That was another one where we wrote it and conceived it together. She just has a very instinctive and sharp musical mind, and she was able to compose so closely to what I was presenting. What I was doing was clicking for her. It was exhilarating for us, and it was surreal - we were shocked by it, to be honest [Laughs]. I think the warmth, humanity and raw energy of her vocals, and her writing on this record, from the very first voice memos - it was all there.

Do you think that chemistry might’ve had something to do with her being a National fan, and you being a fan of her music? We met Taylor at Saturday Night Live in 2014, or whenever that was that we played and Lena Dunham was hosting. We got to meet her, and that was our first brush with a bona fide pop star. But then she came to see us play in Brooklyn last summer and was there in a crazy rainstorm, like torrential downpour, and watched the whole show and stayed for a long time afterwards, talking to me and my brother. She was incredibly charming and humble. That’s the nice thing about her, and a lot of people I’ve met that have that kind of celebrity. It’s great when you can just tune it out and be normal people and chat, and that’s how that felt. So, we knew that she was a big fan, and we really got into the 1989 album. Our Icelandic collaborator, Ragnar Kjartansson, is a crazy Swiftie. So we’ve kind of lived vicariously through him. I’ve always been astonished by how masterful she is in her craft. I’ve always listened to her albums and put them in this rarefied category, like, “How did she do that? How does anybody do that? How do you make ‘Blank Space?’” There was an element that was intimidating at first, where it just took me a second to be like… Not because I think her music is better than what we’ve done, but it’s just a different world.

Were there particular songs, albums or artists the two of you discussed as reference points for this album? “Betty,” which is a song she wrote with William Bowery, she was interested in sort of early Bob Dylan, like Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, I think. “Epiphany,” early on, felt like some weird Kate Bush-meets-Peter Gabriel thing. I think we talked a little about those things, but not a lot. Actually, I think she really trusted me as far as my instincts to where the music would ultimately go, and also the mixing process.  We really wanted to keep her voice as human, and kind of the opposite of plastic, as possible. That was a bit of a battle. Because everything in pop music tends to be very carved out, a smiley face, and as pushed as possible so that it translates to the radio or wherever you hear it. That can also happen with a National song - like if you changed how these things are mixed, they wouldn’t feel like the same song. And she was really trusting and heard it herself. She would make those calls herself, also.

You mentioned William Bowery - who is he? He’s a songwriter, and actually because of social distancing, I’ve never met him. He actually wrote the original idea for “Exile,” and then Taylor took it and ran with it. I don’t actually know to be totally honest.

We’ve been trying to track him down, he doesn’t have much of an internet presence. Yeah, I don’t fully know him, other than he wrote “Betty” and “Exile” with her. But you know she’s a very collaborative person, so it was probably some songwriter.

So it’s not an alias for anyone? No, no, no. I mean, I don’t know - she didn’t tell me there was a “Cardigan” video until literally it came out, and I wrote the song with her [laughs]. So I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure he’s an actual songwriter. She enjoys little mysteries.

With the National, you and your brother write the music, Matt Berninger adds the lyrics, and then you fuse it - was it a similar process on Folklore? Taylor is very collaborative in that sense that, whenever she sent a voice memo, she would send all the lyrics and then ask me what I thought. And sometimes we would debate certain lines, although generally she’s obviously a strong writer. So she would ask me if I liked one line, and she would give me alternate lines and I would give her my opinion. And then when she was actually tracking vocals, I would sometimes suggest things or miss things, but she definitely has a lot of respect for the collaborative process and wants whoever she’s writing with to feel deeply included in that process. It was nice, and was a back and forth, for sure. And she would sometimes have ideas about the production if she didn’t like something, especially. She would, in a tactful way, bring that up. I appreciated that, too, since I wanted to try to turn over every leaf, take risks and sometimes get it wrong. That always takes a second, to get over and then you start again.

You mentioned earlier that once you had six, seven songs, she was able to describe a concept behind the album. I’m curious what that conversation was like. She would always explain what each song was about to me, even before she articulated the Folklore concept. And I could tell early on that they were these narrative songs, often told from a different… not in the first person. So there are different characters in the songs that appear in others. You may have a character in “Betty” that’s also related to one in “Cardigan,” for example. And I think that was, in her mind, very, very important. It doesn’t seem like, for this record at least, that she was inspired to write something until she really knew what it was about. And I think I’m used to a more - at least lately - impressionistic and experimental world of making stuff without really knowing what it is. But this was more direct, in that sense. That was really helpful, to know what it was about and it would guide some of the choices we were making.

Every time she would send something, she would narrate a little bit, like how it fit, or what it was about. And then when she told me about Folklore as a concept, it made so much sense. Like “The Last Great American Dynasty,” for example, this kind of narrative song that then becomes personal at the end - it flips and she enters the song. These are kind of these folkloric, almost mythical tales that are woven in of childhood, lost love, and different sentiments across the record. It was binding it all together and I think it’s personal, but also through the guise of other people, friends and loved ones.

You were working in secret - how did that affect the process? Was that a difficult burden? It was. I was humbled and honored and grateful for the opportunity and for the crazy sort of alchemy we were having. But it was hard not to be able to talk openly with my usual collaborators, even my brother at first. I didn’t know if I could really tell him, because we normally… Ultimately, he helped me quite a bit, he orchestrated songs. But we always help each other. But eventually, we figured out how to do it. Towards the end of the process, I said to Taylor, ‘I really feel that I need to try a few experiment and try to elevate a few moments on the record because we have time, and we’ve really done a ton of work here, and it all sounds great, but I think we can go even further.’ And then she said, ‘Well what does that mean?’ And I explained how that would work, and the way that we work. Our process is very community-oriented, and we have long-time collaborators that we have a good understanding with. So I was able to say, to my friends, ‘This is a song I’m working on, I can’t send it to you with the vocals, and I can’t tell you what it is, but I can explain what I’m imagining.’ And the same with my brother, he knows my music so well that that was very easy for him to just take things that we were working on, add to that, and do his kind of work. So it was all remote and everyone was in their corner and we were shipping things around. It was incredibly fast because of that, because you didn’t have eight people needing to come to the studio. You had eight people working simultaneously - one in France and one in L.A. and one in Brooklyn. This is how it went, and it was fun. We got there.

When were you able to tell everyone who contributed that this was the Taylor Swift record, what was their reaction? You can imagine. I think they realized it was something big because [of] the confidentiality, and they were like, ‘It could only be a few things.’ I couldn’t tell them until, basically, when she announced it. Just in the moments after she announced it, I basically told everyone. I was like, ‘By the way…’ And they were thrilled. Everyone’s thrilled. Nobody seemed mad, everyone was thrilled and honored. Even Justin Vernon had not heard anything else except “Exile,” even though the pulse of that song “Peace,” he gave that song to me. It was important to have it be a surprise, and you know how it can be with someone in her position, with all the speculation, and she’s always under a lot of pressure like that. So it was really important to the creative freedom she was feeling that this remained a secret, so she could just do what we were doing.

Being such longtime friends and collaborators with Justin, what was it like hearing “Exile” for the first time? His voice and Taylor’s together? He’s so versatile and has such a crazy range, and puts so much emotion… Every time he sings when I’m in his presence, my head just kind of hits the back of the wall. That’s the same on this song. William Bowery and Taylor wrote that song together, got it to a certain point, then I sort of interpreted it and developed a recording of it, and then Taylor tracked both the male and female parts. And then we sent it to Justin and he re-did obviously the male parts and changed a few things and also added his own: He wrote the “step right out” part of the bridge, and Taylor re-sang to that. You feel like, in a weird way, you’re watching two of the greatest songwriters and vocalists of our generation collaborating. I was facilitating it and making it happen, and playing all the music. But it was definitely a “Wow.” I was just a fan at that point, seeing it happen.

Are there any moments that really stick out to you as particularly pivotal in shaping the sound of this record? The initial response. When we first connected, and I sent a folder of music and Taylor wrote “Cardigan,” and she said, “This is abnormal. Why do you have all these songs that are so emotional and so moving to me? This feels fated.” And then she just dove into it and embraced this emotional current. And I hope that’s what people take out of it: The humanity in her writing and melodies. It’s a different side to her. She could have been every bit as successful just making these kinds of songs, but it’s so great that she’s also made everything that she’s ever made, and this is a really interesting shift, and an emotional one. It also opens other doors, because now it’s kind of like she can go wherever she wants, creatively. The pressure to make a certain kind of… bop - or whatever you want to call it - is not there really anymore. And I think that’s really liberating, and I hope her fans and the world are excited by that because I am. It’s really special.

Adam & Magus Pt. 1

It’s time to discuss Adam and Magus and how Magus came about! The main things I plan to answer here are (1) How did Magus come about?. (2) What are Magus’s goals? We’re only getting to the first question tonight because I have OT in the morning :))) It’s a lengthy answer anyway so it’s fine.

For a brief summary for those that don’t know, Magus is Adam, but he’s an altered version of himself (from the future) and he has a twisted perception of reality. Magus is the head of the Universal Church of Truth, which spreads its doctrine through force. 

So, lets get to it!

How did Magus come about?

In that panel above (Strange Tales (1951) #178), Magus’s cultists were tracking down that woman and killed her in front of Adam. Adam’s coloring, usually gold, changes for the first time to match Magus’s purple/white color palette. This is what I believe to be the first instance of Magus’s more extreme views taking root in Adam, which is essential to how he comes about.

Magus explains that Adam must become accustomed to his way of thinking in stages, otherwise he would lose his soul if he was simply thrust into Magus as he is. Strange Tales and Warlock issues that cover this arc are basically those stages of Adam becoming accustomed to Magus’s way of thinking.

We find out much much later at the end of this Magus arc that Magus purposefully killed this woman so that Adam would begin to awaken to the idea of being him, to use her as bait to lead Adam to Magus (Warlock (1972) #9). Adam becomes enraged here over what he views as her senseless death. In fact, this tidbit relates back to two deaths in the earlier Warlock issues (Eddie dies in #4, Doom dies in #7) where he failed to protect them and took it as a personal failing. 

Adam has a very interesting set of panels in #7 that I happened to save.

(Warlock (1972) #7)

I found it very fascinating that this theme tied back to these comics since they had different writers. Also, what he says above about not wanting to shape man’s destiny is also referenced in these later comics.

(Strange Tales (1951) #180) 

To be clear, Adam has no aspirations to god hood. He would never, but I think he is already beginning to understand his other self as well as knowing enough about himself to make an educated guess on what a twisted perception of his own morals would look like. 

Of course, it took a lot more than this to bring Magus out.

(Strange Tales (1951) #180)

There’s also a lot of talk in these comics about how Magus uses the church to twist facts and stories to suit his own agenda. At one point the Matriarch dies and he says they’ll tell the masses that she died protecting the church from the infidel (Adam). 

Basically with this information and these panels, what I’m trying to get at is that Adam feels so strongly about his beliefs in life that it’s what drove him to such extremes and in so doing becoming Magus. In addition, he had to be able to understand that everyone has a different perception that is right in their mind. This is prepping him to understand that the Magus (himself) views his methods as right, despite how horrible they are. There’s altered version of what is ‘right’ and Magus uses that to control people, to give them purpose, to live, even if it is by his own set of rules not of their own freedom.

This may seems a little...simple....but also keep in mind that Adam is fairly young here. He was about 5 when he came to Counter-Earth and spent about a year there. However, Strange Tales #178 opens up with that he spent a ‘couple earth years’ traveling space and meeting others. So he’s...chronologically maybe about 8-9 here since leaving his cocoon and starting to experience the universe. This is part of why I believe he feels so strongly. He doesn’t have a hard grip on his emotions, he’s still learning to control them and getting used to them, but there’s just so many of them and he still feels them very strongly.

All of this on its own wouldn’t be enough. The whole plot of the Strange Tales arc is that Magus is going to get the In-Betweener to kidnap Adam and take him to his in-between world, where he’ll spend 'centuries’ there and eventually lose himself and emerge as Magus.

(Warlock (1972) #9)

(Warlock (1972) #11)

What’s important about the second set of panels is that Magus is pre-ordained by the universe. He is meant to come into fruition because the universe wants Magus as the Avatar of Life to counter Thanos’s Avatar of Death. The realm Adam gets lost in is meant make him lose his sense of right and wrong and focus only on the extreme of his values: purpose, life. 

Where did we just see that?

(Warlock (1972) #7)

Purpose! Life! The Magus came about on these ideals that Adam holds so dear. 

(Strange Tales (1951) #179)

This all culminates in Warlock (1972) #11 when Adam kills a room of men with his soul gem (taking their souls into his gem) and Magus claims that they are truly the same. 

Thanos makes a great point after this that ‘truth’ is subjective and thus can be rejected. And really, that’s the huge theme of these comics. The church’s truth, the judge’s truth, Magus’s truth, what is the truth depends on who you ask.

That’s where the difference comes down to with Adam and Magus. Adam chooses, with all his might in this universe, to be who he is. And he succeeds. In the end, he stays Adam, though with a bit of an altered perception of the universe and a better understanding of the part of him that is Magus, but at the end of it he is still himself. He destroys the whole future of a universe just so that he can remain as he is and he chooses a different future for himself. 

There are parts here I’ll comment on another time (where Adam literally kills another version of himself...)

I think I’ve more or less made my point but let’s wrap it up with a bow.

The Magus is Adam, and came out to the forefornt of Adam due to their shared ideals, such as purpose and life. Bringing the Magus side of him to the forefront only took altering Adam’s perception (though to extreme lengths) because tidbits of Magus were already in him due to those shared ideals. Adam’s extreme feelings allowed him to be affected more easily in becoming Magus. It was really more like a push (that landed him in the In-Betweener’s realm) that brought out his Magus personality. In the end, who Adam is relates to the truth he accepts of himself.

okay so like, this might be lowkey controversial but, for the time being i’m not mad with The Letter For The King. Do i think certain things could have been handled better? Absolutely. But it’s definitely set up for another season at least. Tiuri’s mom hasn’t been seen since like, ep 2 or 3, The Queen had the black eyes that they haven’t explored yet, Lavinia hasn’t found the road, and Iona and Jaro’s strange acquantanceship is just starting.

I’m definitely upset about the death but I want to see what the show writers do with it. If it’s kept through the story and used as a source of inspiration/determination and not completely forgotten about then its one thing but if it is completely forgotten then it begs the question of why the character was introduced in the first place if they were only going to die.

This got long so analysis under the cut

I know a lot of people are upset that Tiuri was teased as the hero but it turned out to be Lavinia who had magic and I just have to say that Tiuri is definitely the protagonist in this story. It is completely centered around him. Not only does he tick most of the ‘hero’ boxes from Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey, he’s also the one we establish the emotional connection with first. I think that’s a part of why a lot of people are upset about the magic thing. He was designated ‘special dude’ in the first few episodes and then everyone finds out that there’s nothing supernatural about him. But what I think a lot of people are forgetting is that the thing that makes Tiuri the hero/protagonist in TLFTK is that he chose to be. He made the choice to help the old man at the chapel door. He’s also a kid. They all are. And save for Lavinia, they likely haven’t had much agency in a lot of their choices because they���re kids. They’re only just starting to be baby adults. So Tiuri chose to go help and that lead to him travelling across the continent.

Another part is the race thing. I’m not going to comment on this too much, not because I don’t think it’s there, I think it is to an extant, but more because I don’t want to make any rash judgments on the writers who had six episodes to tell a story that could very easily have been cut back from ten which is the usual netflix original s1 episode count. They also address that Tiuri does endure certain racist attitudes from other characters through the series. This in mind i’m really hoping that there is some nuance going into the writing that we’ll be able to see in future seasons.

Tiuri also has a questionable Lineage. His home was a victim of genocide and his and his Mother are, for all that we know, some of the few who are left. He doesn’t know who his biological father was. It was teased that his father was a Shaman and while I want to believe that, the information was given when we still thought that he had magic. It’s also shown that Shaman is used as a gender neutral term and I’ll get to that later. His mother tells him not to worry about who his father was and it could be that she was trying to get him to accept Sir Tiuri as his father and that it really doesn’t matter, or it could be that she said it for complicated plot reasons.

Speaking of parents, we have Lavinia. Lavinia’s character is interesting. She was introduced as a self-serving and very ambitious noble/princess who wants to help her people in a sustainable way. Her father is shown to see a quick fix and try to take it. Lavinia wants to find the road that ran from two kingdoms directly through her town(?). She’s done the research and the math and the planning. She just needs to go do it. That’s her goal. Then we’re introduced to the idea of her mother. We know almost nothing about her mother other than she’s gone. There’s mysterious circumstances there that have yet to be explored but they’re set up to be major plot points in the future. Also, just a side note about the magic, we only know of three cultures in TLFTK when there could easily be hundreds of cultures around the world. For there to only be one with magic would be bad world building and just on the detail we’re getting for future season set ups I want to say that the world building wouldn’t be that bad but I could be wrong.

I mentioned the gender neutral term used for Shaman and it being used to describe a magic user. For the time being, and until we get more info on the world building and term usage for the Netflix series because it apparently does differ wildly from the source material, I’m inclined to believe that Lavinia is a Shaman. So was(is?) Prince Veridian. Lavinia’s mother could have been the Shaman being talked about when Prince Veridian was interrogating the Shaman in the village. Now I’m not trying to say that Lavinia could be a woc in this world, I’m just saying that we don’t really know a whole lot about the magic being used and it’s cultural significance throughout the world, and that what we do know is incredibly limited.

Now, names are important for characters not only to distinguish them to readers but the also tell something about the characters. The name Lavinia also belonged to the wife of Aeneus who in Roman mythology was a survivor of Troy and son of Aphrodite and is an ancestor to Romulus and Remus, founders of Rome. One part of her story that her hair catches fire as an omen promising good things for her people and bad things for the latins. This is similar to how Lavinia in TLFTK almost looks to be on fire as ‘the light’ in the battle scene in e6. This is so interesting just from a meta standpoint so I wanted to point it out. I haven’t read the book or the sequel so I don’t know anything about the source material but from a writing perspective that’s a hell of a derivitave. Side note, Tiuri could possibly be derived from Turi meaning ‘of Thor’ or Tiri meaning ‘swift one’ from persian mythology or ‘outsider’ in ijaw, and these are theoretical, it could just be a name. The meanings do come from behindthename and babynames so the meanings could be entirely wrong.

Now Iona. I lover her character and I can’t wait to see more of her. She’s competent, knows what she does and doesn’t know, she can work in a group or independently, takes charge, and can kick ass. She’s also a kid, which is super important. We don’t know much about her history other than her parents are dead and that she’s likely lived a pretty rough life to be somewhat proficient in thievery, survival skills, sleight of hand, and ‘bar speak’ for lack of a better term. Past this we don’t really know much about her, or the rest of the characters for that matter. We have six plot based episodes and that’s it, so from here it’s gonna be less character analysis and more general analysis.

I think that she’s being set up as a foil to Tiuri. A foil is one character who contrasts another. They’re not necessarily opposites. One of the reasons I think this is so is because of how competent Iona is and how incompetent Tiuri is. She goes off with an adult who now(?) has no real ties to anyone, but he’s following her. (This would seem creepy but I see it more as an exasperated adult accidentally adopted an ambitious kid and now feels obligated to make sure they don’t get themselves killed.) Tiuri ends the series belonging to the knighthood. Speaking of the knighthood, this was the one thing that Iona was sure she would get and Tiuri was sure he wouldn’t. She had the confidence and skill to match and Tiuri was just kind of. There.

Now, we know so little of the characters mentioned above and even less of Foldo, Guissipo, and Piak, but they are intrinsically connected to eachother.

Its implied that they grew up together. Piak knows that Foldo tells good stories. So the three of them know each other and that makes the little romance between Foldo and Guissipo a bit more believable once that is realized. Like I said earlier, I really want to know what the show writers deal with Guissipo’s death and how it affects Foldo and Piak. I don’t really expect it to hit Tiuri or Lavinia so hard, maybe Iona if she knows, but it should definitely hit Foldo and Piak. I really hope that in the future, it’s addressed how they both grieve individually and together.

I think the only other character that I really wanna talk about is Queen Alianor. She has Tiuri’s mother and had black eyes, but she also knighted all of the boys. i really want to see what they do with that only because I don’t know what could happen.

Anyway this was more of a ‘okay people are mad about a lot of things and while I know and can agree with why, we don’t really have a lot of information as to what is planned especially with only 6 episodes adding up to less than 300 minutes and a story that could have been so much longer.’ I know that it has issues and that the show has hit certain pitfalls. I know. But I want to hope that there was a reason behind what they’ve done and with more time we’ll get to see those reasons.

Homestuck is My Favorite Sprite Comic

Yes, you read that right.

Homestuck is my favorite sprite comic.

Those of you who remember the earlier days of the internet are probably looking at this post in disbelief right about now. Others of you might be scratching your heads, not knowing what I’m talking about.

But here’s my pitch: Homestuck is the culmination of an entire genre of internet art, and the tools that make it so powerful are the very tools that made that genre once so reviled.

Homestuck is the greatest and most successful sprite comic of all time.

And honestly, I’ve wanted to talk about that for ages, so let’s do it.

WHAT SPRITE COMICS WERE

Many of my readers are probably too young to remember the era of sprite comics. So: what were sprite comics?

Sprite comics were a genre of webcomics made entirely by taking pixel art from video games – especially character art, called “sprites,” but also backgrounds and other images—and placing them into panels to tell a story. They were near-ubiquitous on the internet in the early 2000s, emerging right as webcomics in general were seeking to establish themselves as an art form.

They were not, shall we say, known for their quality. The low bar to access meant that art skill was not an obstacle to starting one. The folks behind the huge swell of them tended to be young people, kids and early teenagers recreating the plots of their favorite video games with new OCs—not the most advanced writers or artists. They were the early 2000s’ quintessential example of ephemeral, childish art. Unfortunately, they look even worse today—blown-up pixels don’t hold up well when displayed on higher-resolution monitors.

Today, they’re mostly forgotten, remembered only as a weird, strange moment in the youth of the internet. Someone who evoked them today, such as a blogger who compared them to one of the most successful webcomics of all time, would be inviting good-natured teasing at the very least.

It would be unfair to dismiss them entirely, though. In this low-stakes environment, comics where the author could bring more skill—engaging writing, legitimately funny jokes, or especially, a real ability to work with pixel art—really stood out. (Unsurprisingly, these authors tended to skew a bit older.)

The obvious one to mention is Bob and George. Bob and George wasn’t the first sprite comic, but it was the most influential. Conceived initially as Mega Man-themed filler for a hand-drawn comic about superheroes, it quickly became a merging of the two concepts, with the original characters made into Mega Man-style sprites, full of running gags, humorous retellings of the Mega Man games, elaborate storylines about time travel, and robots eating ice cream. It was generally agreed, even among sprite comic haters, that Bob and George was a pretty good comic. Worth mentioning also are 8-Bit Theater, which turned the plot of the first Final Fantasy into a spectacular and hilarious farce, and of course Kid Radd, my second favorite sprite comic. (More on that later.)

But even if you weren’t looking for greatness—there was something just damn fun about them. The passion of sprite comic authors was clear, even if their ideas didn’t always cohere. To this day, I think the sprite comic scene has the same appeal pulp art does—it’s crude and rough, full of garbage to sift through, but every so often, something deeply sincere and bizarre shines through, and the culture of its authors is a fascinating object of study in itself.

Okay, full disclosure: I was one of the people who made a sprite comic. I’ve written about my experiences with that in more depth elsewhere, but yeah, I was on the inside of this scene, rather than a disinterested observer, and from the inside, maybe it’s a lot easier to see the appeal.

Still, let me make this claim: even with all their flaws, sprite comics were doing some incredibly interesting things, and Homestuck is heir to their legacy.

TAKE ME DOWN TO RECOLOR CITY

One of the problems people always had with sprite comics was the sprites themselves. They’re the most repetitive thing in the world. You just keep copying and pasting the same images over and over again, maybe with a few tweaks. That’s not really being an artist, is it? It’s so lazy. Re-drawing things from different angles keeps things dynamic, develops your skill, and makes your work better in general. Right?

I’m mostly in agreement. Certainly I think it’s fair to rag on the Control-Alt-Delete guy, along with other early bad webcomics, for copy-pasting their characters while dropping in new expressions and mass-producing tepid strips. And to be fair, digging through bad sprite comics often felt like an exercise in seeing the same slightly-edited recolors of Mega Man characters over and over again. You got really tired of that same body with its blobby feet and hands.

(It should be noted, though, that there were folks in the sprite comic scene who could pixel art the quills off a porcupine. I salute you, brave pixel art masters of 2006. I hope you all got into your chosen art school.)

All this said, I think the repetitive and simplistic nature of sprite comics was often their biggest strength.

THE POWER OF ABSTRACTION

In his classic work Understanding Comics, Scott McCloud makes an observation about cartooning that has stayed with me to this day.

McCloud notes that simple, abstract drawings, like faces that are only few lines and dots on a page, resonate with us more strongly than more detailed drawings. This is because our minds fill in what’s missing on the page. We ascribe human depth to simple gestures and expressions based on our own emotions and experiences – and this makes us feel closer to these characters as readers. Secretly, simple cartoons can be one of the most powerful forms of storytelling. If you want your readers to fall in love with your characters, draw them simply, and let them fill them in.

Video game sprites work very well in this regard. They have that same simplicity that cartoons do. In fact, I’d be willing to bet a huge part of the success of SNES-era RPGs was simple, almost childlike character sprites drawing people in. I think sprites did the same for sprite comics.

Here’s the weird thing: Bob and George worked. Despite four different characters being variations on the same friggin’ Mega Man sprite in different colors, they immediately began to seem like different people with distinct personalities. For me, George’s befuddled, helpless dismay immediately comes to mind whenever I picture his face, while with Mega Man himself it’s usually a wide-eyed, childlike glee. I would never confuse them. This, despite the fact that the only actual difference between their faces is that George is blonde. It’s pretty clear what happened. The personalities the author established for them through dialogue and storytelling shone through, and my brain did the rest.

Sprites, in short, were a canvas upon which the mind could project any story the author wanted to tell. Even the most minute differences in pixel art came to stand, in the best sprite comics, for wide divergences in personality and ideals, once the reader spent enough time with them to adapt to their style of representation.

Wait a minute, haven’t we seen this somewhere before? Character designs that focus on variations on a theme, with subtle differences that nonetheless render them instantly recognizable?

Oh, right.

Look at what greets us on the very first page of Homestuck. An absurdly simple cartoon boy, abstracted to a ridiculous degree—he doesn’t even have arms!—followed a whole bunch of characters that follow suit. Though many other representations of the characters emerge, these little figures never quite go away, do they? Why is that?

Simple: they’re very easy to manipulate. They’re modular—you can give John arms or not, depending on whether it’s useful. You can put him in a whole variety of poses and save them to a template. You can change out his facial expressions with copy and paste. You can give him a new haircut and call him Jake. It’s all very quick and easy.

Sprite comics proliferated because they were very easy to mass-produce. Andrew Hussie’s original conception of Homestuck was very similar: something he could put out very quickly and easily, where even the most elaborate ideas could rely on existing assets to be sped smoothly along. We all know the result: an incredible production machine, churning out unfathomable amounts of content from 2009-2012. I’d say it was a good call.

But it goes way deeper than that. The modular nature of sprites always suggested a kind of modularity to the sprite comic premise. George and Mega Man were different people, true, but also two variations on a theme. Was there something underlying them that they had in common? Perhaps their similarity says something like: We exist in a world which has a certain set of rules? One of my favorite conceits from Bob and George was that when characters visited the past, they were represented by NES-era Mega Man sprites, while in the present, they were SNES sprites, and in the future, the author used elaborate splicing to render them as 32-bit Mega Man 8 sprites or similar.

Suppose there was a skilled cartoonist thinking about his next big project, who wanted to tell a story centered around this kind of modularity, a narrative that was built out of iterative, swappable pieces by its very design. He might very well create a sprite comic named Homestuck.

Homestuck is a story about a game that creates a hyperflexible mythology for its players, where the villains, challenges, and setting change depending upon what players bring to the experience, yet which all share underlying goals and assumptions. What more perfect opportunity to create a modular story as well? Different groups of kids and trolls have motifs that get swapped around to produce new characters, whether that’s through ectobiology, the Scratch, or the eerie parallels between the kids and trolls’ sessions. And yet each character can be analyzed as an individual.

This is an incredible way to build a huge emotional investment from your readers. Not only does this kind of characterization invite analysis, the abstractions draw readers in to generate their own headcanons and interpretations. A deep commitment to pluralism is at the heart of Hussie’s character design. Then, too, it encourages readers to build their own new designs from these models. Kidswaps, bloodswaps, fantrolls—these have long been the heart of Homestuck’s fandom. And what are bloodswaps if not sprite recolors for a new generation? With the added bonus that now a change in color carries narrative weight, evoking new moods and identities for these characters in ways that early sprite comics could only dream of.

In Hussie’s hands, even the dreaded copy-and-paste takes on heroic depth of meaning. Even when Hussie moves away from sprites to his own loose art style, he continues to remix what we’ve previously see. Indeed, Hussie talks about how he would go out of his way to edit his own art into new images even when it would take more time than drawing something new. Why? Because he wanted to evoke that very feeling of having seen this before—the visual callback to go along with the many conceptual and verbal callbacks that echo throughout Homestuck. This is at the heart of what Doc Scratch (speaking for Hussie) called “circumstantial simultaneity:” we are invited to compare two moments or two characters, to see what they have in common, or how they contrast. Everything in Paradox Space is deeply linked with everything else. And Hussie establishes this in our minds using nothing less than the tool sprite comics were so deeply reviled for: the “lazy” repetition of an image.

(It’s fitting that some of the most jaw-droppingly gorgeous images in Homestuck—dream bubble scenery and the like—are the result of Hussie taking things he’s made before and combining them into fantastic dreamscapes.)

But it all started with the hyperflexible, adaptable character images Hussie created at the very beginning of Homestuck.

And if you need more proof that Homestuck is a sprite comic, I think we need look no further than what Hussie, and the rest of the Homestuck community call these images.

We call them sprites.

THE FIRST GENRE-BENDERS

Was Andrew Hussie influenced by sprite comics in the development of Homestuck? It’s hard to say, but as a webcomic artist in the first decade of the 2000s, he was surely aware of them. It’s likely that he quickly realized that his quick, adaptable images served the same purposes as a sprite in a video game or a sprite comic, and chose to call them that.

One purpose I haven’t mentioned up until now: sprites lend themselves very well to animations. In fact, in their original context of video games, that’s exactly what they’re for: frames of art that can be used to show a character running, jumping, posing, moving across a screen. It’s not surprising, then, that sprite comic makers quickly saw the utility in that.

Homestuck was, in fact, not the first webcomic to make Flash animations part of its story. There were experiments with various gifs and such in other comics, but I think sprite comics were among the most successful at becoming the multi-media creations that would come to be known as hypercomics..

Take a look at this animation from Bob and George. It represents a climactic final confrontation against a long-standing villain, using special effects to make everything dramatic, but ultimately, like many a Homestuck animation, leads to kind of a pyscheout. The drama and the humor of the moment are clear, though. This relies in large part on the music—which is taken directly from the game Chrono Trigger. This makes total sense. Interestingly, it also contains voice acting, which is something Homestuck never tried—probably because it would run contrary to its ideals of pluralism. What I find fascinating is that in sprite comics, animations like these served a very similar purpose to Homestuck’s big flashes: elevating a big moment into something larger-than-life. Another good example is this sequence from Crash and Bass. Seriously, it seems like every sprite comic maker wanted to try their hand at Flash animation.

(By the way, it’s a lot harder than it looks!! I envy Hussie his vectorized sprites. Pixel art is a PAIN to work with in the already buggy program that is Flash.)

The result: because of the sprites themselves, sprite comics were among the first works to play around with the border between comics and other media in the way that would come to be thought of as quintessentially Homestuck.

What it also meant was that another genre emerged in parallel with sprite comics: the sprite animation. Frequently these would retell the story of a particular game, offer a spectacular animated battle sequence, parody the source material, or all three. Great examples include this animation for Mega Man Zero, and this frankly preposterous crossover battle sequence. Chris Niosi’s TOME also found its earliest roots as an animation series of this kind. You also found plenty of sprite-based flash games, in which players could manipulate game characters in a way that was totally outside the context of the original works.

The website the vast majority of these games and animations were hosted on?

Newgrounds, best known to Homestuck fans as the website Hussie crashed in 2011 while trying to upload Cascade.

What’s less talked about is that Hussie was friends, or at least on conversational terms with, the owner of the site, hence the idea to host his huge animation there in the first place, and other flashes, like the first Alterniabound, were initially hosted there as well.

It’s hard to believe that Hussie wasn’t at least a little familiar with the Newgrounds scene. I suspect that he largely conceived of Homestuck as part of the world of “Flash animation—” which in 2009 meant the wide variety of things that were hosted on Newgrounds, including sprite animations.

The freedom and fluidity sprite comics had to change into games and animations and back into comics again was one of their most fascinating traits. Homestuck’s commitment to media-bending needs, at this point, no introduction. But what’s less known is that sprite comics were exploring that territory first—that Homestuck, in short, is the kind of thing they wanted to grow up to be.

PUT ME IN THE GAME

I would be a fool not to mention another big thing Homestuck and sprite comics have in common: a character who is literally the author in cartoon form, running around doing goofy things and messing with the story. This was an incredibly common cliché in sprite comics, no doubt because of Bob and George, who did it early on and never looked back. You might have noticed that the animation I linked above concerns a showdown between Bob and George’s author, David Anez—depicted, delightfully, as another Mega Man recolor—and a mysterious alternate author named Helmut—who is like Mega Man plus Sepiroth I think? It’s all very strange. I could ramble for hours about the relationship between Hussie and the alt-author villains of Homestuck and what it all means, but I’m not sure I can nail anything down with certainty for these two. Maybe Bob and George was never quite that metaphysical.

But yes, bringing the author into the story in some form was already a cliché by the time Homestuck started up. Indeed, I think that’s why Hussie’s character refers to it as “a bad idea” to break the fourth wall—he’s recognizing that people will have seen this before, and are already tired of this sort of shit. And then he goes and does it anyway and makes it somehow brilliant, because he’s Andrew Hussie.

Homestuck breathes life into the cliché by taking it in a metaphysical/metafictional direction. I don’t think that was really the motivation for most sprite comic authors, though. Let’s see if we can dig a little deeper.

I think the cliché kept happening because sprite comic authors were writing about a subject that very closely concerned themselves: video games. I’m only kind of joking. The thing about video games is that even though they’re made for everyone, playing through one yourself feels like an intensely personal experience. You develop an emotional relationship to a world, to its characters, that feels distinctly your own. Now, suddenly, thanks to the magic of sprites, you have an opportunity to tell stories about that world for others to read. Of course you’re going to want to put yourself in the story in some form.

When it wasn’t author characters in sprite comics, it was OCs. You know Dr. Wily? Well here’s my own original villain, Dr. Vindictus. You know Mega Man? Here’s my new character, Super Cool Man. He hangs out with Mega Man and they beat the bad guys together. Stuff like that. Most sprite comics retold the story of a game, or multiple games in a big crossover format, with original elements added in. There was quite a lot of “Link and Sonic and Mega Man are all friends with my OC and they hang out at his house.”

What’s interesting, though, is that because these sprite comics were very aware that they were about video games, this was where they sometimes got very meta. It started with humorous observation—hey, isn’t it funny that Link goes around breaking into people’s houses and smashing their pots? But sometimes, it grew into more serious commentary. Is Mega Man trapped in a never-ending cycle, doomed to fight the same fight against the same mad scientist until the end of time? Is it worth it, being a video game hero?

Enter Homestuck. What I’ve been dancing around this whole time is:

Homestuck is a sprite comic…because Homestuck is a video game.

Or more specifically, Homestuck’s a comic about a video game called SBURB, where the lines between the game and the comic about the game blur as characters wrestle with the narratives around them, both those encoded into the game and those encoded into our expectations.

Homestuck presents the fantasy of many a sprite comic maker: I get to go on heroic quests, I get to change the world and become a god. I get to be part of the video game. And then it asks the same question certain sprite comics were beginning to ask:

Is it worth it, to be that hero?

I want to tell you about my second favorite sprite comic, a comic called Kid Radd.

Kid Radd distinguished itself from other sprite comics of the time by being a completely original production. Its sprites looked like they could be from a variety of NES and SNES-era video games, but they were all done from scratch, and the games they purported to represent were all fictional. Kid Radd used animations with original music, and sometimes interactive, clickable games, to tell its story. It also used all sorts of neat programming tricks to make it load faster on the internet of the early 2000s, which was great—unfortunately, these same techniques made it break as web technology evolved, something Homestuck fans in 2019 can definitely relate to. The good news is, fans have maintained a dedicated and reformatted archive where the comics can still be seen and downloaded.

Kid Radd’s premise is that video game characters themselves are conscious and alive—more specifically, their sprites. Sprites developed consciousness as human beings projected personality and identity onto them, remaining aware of their status as video game constructs while also seeking to be something more. The story follows the titular Kid Radd, at first in the context of his own game, commenting on the choices the player controlling him. He must endure every death, every strange decision along the way to save his girlfriend Sheena. Then the story expands into a larger context as Radd, Sheena, and many other video game characters are released onto the internet as data. They try to find their own identities and build a society for themselves, but struggle with the tendency toward violence that games have programmed into them. The story culminates in an honestly moving moment where Radd confronts the all-powerful creators of their reality—human beings.

It’s a very good comic.

The first sprite comic authors wanted to fuse real life with video games. Later sprite comic authors decided to ask: what would that really mean? Would it be painful? Would you suffer? Would you find a way to make your life meaningful all the same? Despite the limitations of sprite comics, these ideas had incredible potential, and in works like Kid Radd, they flourished.

Homestuck is heir to that legacy.

It takes the questions Kid Radd was asking, and asks them in new ways. It tries to understand, on an even deeper level, how the rules of video games shape our own minds and give us ways to understand ourselves.

At its heart, Homestuck is a sprite comic, and it might just be the greatest of them all.

EPILOGUE

I’ve seen a lot of good discussion recently on how Homestuck preserves a certain era of the internet like a time capsule: its culture, its technology, its assumptions, its memes.

I think sprite comics, too, are part of the culture that created Homestuck. Do I think Hussie spent the early 2000s recoloring Mega Man sprites? No, probably not. But what I do know is that sprite comics were part of his world. The first webcomic cartoonists came of age alongside an odd companion, the weird, overly sincere, dorky little sibling that was sprite comics. Like them or hate them, you couldn’t escape them. They were there.

And maybe a certain cartoonist saw a kind of potential in them, in the same way he summoned Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff from the depths of bad gamer culture.

Or maybe he just knew, as some sprite comic authors did, that the time was right for their kind of story.

On a personal level—Homestuck came along right when I needed it.

Around 2009, the bubble that was sprite comics finally burst. People were getting tired of them, or growing out of them, and blown-up sprites no longer looked so good on modern monitors.

I was more than a little heartbroken. I’d enjoyed Bob and George, read my fill of Mega Man generica, and fallen utterly in love with Kid Radd. I’d been working on my own sprite comic for a long time out of a sense that there was huge potential in them that we were only scratching the surface of. I’d dreamed of maybe someday doing something as amazing as the best of them did. But I was watching that world disappear. I had to admit to myself that my work wasn’t going to continue to find an audience. That I could live with. But it was painful to think that the potential I sensed, the feats of storytelling I wanted to see in the world, would never be realized.

And then, in the fall of 2010, a friend linked me to a comic that broke all the rules, that mixed animation, games, music, images and chatlogs. A comic that crafted its own sprites, just as Kid Radd did, and remixed its images into an ever-expanding web of associations and meanings. A comic that took on the idea of living inside a video game with relish and turned it into a gorgeous meditation on escaping the ideas and systems that control us.

That this comic would exist, let alone that it would succeed. That it would become one of the most popular creations of all time, that it would surpass other webcomics and break out into anime conventions and the real world, that it would become such a cultural juggernaut, to the point where it’s impossible to imagine an internet without Homestuck—

I can’t even put into words how happy that makes me. It’s the reason I’m still writing essays about Homestuck nearly eight years after I found it.

And it’s why Homestuck will always be my favorite sprite comic.

-Ari

[Notes: The image of the kids came from the ever-useful MSPA Wiki—please support and aid in their efforts to provide a good source of info about Homestuck! They need more support these days than ever.

For more on Homestuck’s place as a continuation of the zeitgeist of early 2000s experimental webcomics, this article by Sam Keeper at Storming the Ivory Tower is excellent and insightful.

Thanks for reading, y’all.]

THE “”GOTHIC”” REC LIST

Edited for my own use.

LET’S START WITH THE GATEWAY DRUG BOOK

1. Flowers in the Attic (VC Andrews): Published in 1979 and technically considered contemporary Gothic. The style closely resembles a lot of “original” Gothic fiction I’ve read, but the themes, story arc and style are distinctly contemporary and very psychological. Gets a bad rap because it’s over the top insane and averagely written (which most Gothic is, tbh). Flowers is light reading, and I think it’s a good gateway drug into heavier Gothic. Has several sequels but stands alone as well. I wish I could call this Victorian-inspired Gothic but honestly it’s just knockoff Victorian in a contemporary setting. If you don’t enjoy this book, it probably means you don’t like the over the top insanity and average writing. Skip it if you like!

1.5. But if you do like it, I hear My Sweet Audrina is pretty good. All of VC Andrews and her ghostwriters are like a hellhole people sometimes don’t escape tbh it’s a raging aesthetic disaster down there.

Note: I have a strong suspicion that “contemporary” Gothic published between 1965 and 1989 will eventually have its own movement name; you will see a decent amount of it on this list.

THE VICTORIAN GOTHIC PART OF THE LIST Most of these are available for free online due to copyright law being born late or whatever. 2. Carmilla (Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu): Considered the first English vampire story (Germans invented the European vampire allegedly), and published in 187…9? 1871? Something like that. A novella. Arguably a same-sex romance (VERY arguably), but can also be read as a close friendship. The writing is good, but not the absolute greatest I’ve ever read. The real strong point here is the imagery and the dawn of the English vampire. Great Halloween read; I read it almost every autumn. 3. “The Trifecta,” according to Gothic fans: Dracula (Bram Stoker), Frankenstein (Shelley), and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (Swift & Stevenson): First mainstream vampire, original English monster movie fuel, and the dawn of psychological fiction. Shelley’s the best writer out of all of them but she’s a Romantic and I’m sort of biased against Romantics. She’s a precursor to true Victorian Gothic. Dracula is still one of the creepiest books I’ve ever read and it’s the only one in the trifecta I really really love (and finished).

Note: If, by any chance, you find yourself seriously obsessed with vampires at any point in time, please consult me for an extended list of vampire fiction because I have a shit-ton of it in my reading history and left most of it out so vampires wouldn’t clutter this list lmao.

4. Edgar Allan Poe, Completed Works. The Cask of Amontillado, The Masque of the Red Death, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Tell-Tale Heart are all notable. His poetry is lovely–Annabelle Lee and The Raven are most culturally significant. Just solid and wonderful work that I like a lot but haven’t explored in a lot of detail. Will appeal to your interest in darkness imagery.

5. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Stories (Washington Irving): QUINTESSENTIAL HALLOWEEN READING. SPOOPY. WONDERFUL. I truly love this anthology. Will also appeal to your interest in darkness as a concept and a physical thing. 6. Nightmare Abbey (Thomas Love Peacock): an 1818 novel that makes fun of the Victorian Gothic movement. Hilarious, contains all the typical Victorian Gothic tropes and has the added benefit of actually falling into the Victorian Gothic movement ironically. Usually comes packaged with another novel called Crotchet Castle which is similar. 7. If, somehow, you haven’t had it with Victorian Gothic yet (and I got to this point, it happens, Victorian Gothic is a slippery slope)… Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (Susanna Clarke): A really bizarre story behind how this was published, at least it is to me. Published in 2004, Over 10 years in the making and is written in the Victorian Gothic style but with a quirky and modern twist. The writer takes a page out of contemporary social commentary and includes pages-long footnotes, heads up (they’re funny and entertaining though). HUGE. You could kill a man with this volume. Excellent writing; I’m halfway through. I hear there’s time travel (?) and there are about ten thousand characters. Neil Gaiman is a fan. 8. The Phantom of the Opera (Gaston Leroux) is not technically Victorian (Technically Edwardian? Also French; I’m not familiar with French literary eras) but of course it has a huge following. I’ve read a little so far; I like the style and I think it’s culturally significant. You might want to read this because it’s heavily inspired by a French opera house, the Palais Garnier in Paris. Amber tells me she read literature in French to help sharpen her skills in the language; you may consider picking up an un-translated version of this? A BRIEF INTERLUDE FOR MORE CONTEMPORARY 9. Interview with the Vampire (Anne Rice): One of my favorite books of all time! Possibly the dawn of the romanticized vampire. Falls into that 70s contemporary Gothic bracket and is pretty amazingly written, but markedly more angst-ridden than anything else on the list (save for maybe Flowers). Lots of “what is evil?” and “what does immortality imply?” type speculation. Also gets a bad rap because Anne Rice made it big and haters are rife tbh it’s a very solidly built book in my opinion (BUT SUPER EMOTIONAL VAMPIRES). If you like this, continue with The Vampire Chronicles (The Vampire Lestat, Queen of the Damned, Prince Lestat, and about 8 others in between that concern minor characters). Lestat is one of my favorite fictional characters of all time. 10. Coraline (Neil Gaiman): Quick, cute, I found myself actually afraid for a little while despite the audience being middle grade readers?? I enjoyed it. The only Neil Gaiman on the list because his other work doesn’t impress me very much. 11. The Spiderwick Chronicles (Holly Black and Tony Diterlizzi): More middle-grade creepy aesthetic stuff. Cute modern fantasy stories, five volumes. I can read these books at twenty years old and still enjoy them (like Coraline)! The only good thing Holly Black has ever produced, in my opinion, though many people like her and her ~aesthetic.

11.5. Should you find yourself in the mood for more quick middle-grade aesthetic-y stuff, Pure Dead Magic (Debi Gliori) is really an adorable book with two sequels. Victorian Gothic tropes such as the creepy mansion, creatures in the dungeon, family drama, and Weird Newcomers are all present, but it’s set in modern times. One of the main characters is a hacker. Addams family-esque.

THE SURREAL-ISH FICTION PART OF THE LIST

Not true surreal fiction; these are contemporary surreal-inspired works. 12. The Bloody Chamber (Angela Carter): An anthology of short stories which retell fairy tales. Falls into the contemporary surrealism movement and is not traditionally considered Gothic, but this is definitely your aesthetic. Very quick read, very vivid imagery, lots of second-wave feminism and some brief eating disorder symbolism. Carter was a phenomenal writer! My favorite story is “The Lady of the House of Love"

12.5 (Just as a reminder since I’ve mentioned these) See also: Nights at the Circus (Carter) and Mechanique: A tale of the Circus Tresaulti (Valentine) for your interest in circus books!

13. The Palace of Curiosities (Rosie Garland), which I also rec’d before. Similar style to Chamber, similar themes. Both beautiful books. 14. Deathless (Catherynne Valente): Oh, Deathless. Technically contemporary lit, but hails to Russian Gothic (one of the earlier Gothic movements which I haven’t read much of). Retelling of about a million Russian folk tales. I could go on about this book for a thousand years. Stylistically similar to The Bloody Chamber as well, but far more poetic. (Very) structurally inferior to every other book on this list, but so heart-wrenchingly romantic you won’t notice or care on the first read. Visually breathtaking, absolutely the closest thing to death and the maiden imagery I’ve found in fiction. I’m fairly confident you’ll appreciate this one! Might as well read it to test my theory!! There’s controversy surrounding the fact that the writer is not Russian–something to be aware of. 15. The Enchanted (Rene Denfeld): TREAD WITH CAUTION. This is contemporary literary fiction (not Gothic) written from the pov of a death row inmate. Nominated for approximately a billion awards in 2014 (and won a few); high caliber of writing. Incredibly visceral, horrific, psychological imagery that was too much for me, though I still liked it. Short but dense–I had to take a two-day break to ward off the anxiety it caused. But you are darker~ than I so you might like it more!

THE SOUTHERN GOTHIC PART OF THE LIST 16. Beloved (Toni Morrison): Contemporary Southern Gothic. Incredibly creepy imagery, explores the connection between women’s issues and racial issues. Uses abortion and slavery as metaphors for each other. Gracefully written, but Southern Gothic (even contemporary) tends to be textually dense so it’s something to really think about as you read. 17. As I Lay Dying (Faulkner): “True” Southern Gothic. DENSE AS HELL but I think Beloved is a good precursor to Faulkner. A lot of almost comedic family drama, similar to Flowers in that sense, but very srs bsns nonetheless.

17.5. Basically all of Faulkner is considered Southern Gothic. He’s the father of Southern Gothic. If you enjoy this, you might also like Absalom! Absalom! and other such works. I loved As I Lay Dying but it’s possibly his easiest read, and while I love a good challenge I haven’t stepped up to this one yet.

Note: I use reading guides for all my classical works and Shakespeare, and I think there are good ones for Faulkner too, so that might be something to look into if you wanna vanish into this hell lol.

AN ADDENDUM: OTHER WRITERS

HP Lovecraft: Father of horror or whatever. Awful writer–anyone will agree. The guy had no command of language, but he’s known for over-the-top horror imagery that people really enjoy. Honestly I hate his writing so I haven’t bothered with much of it.

Oscar Wilde: If, by this point, you still want more Victorian-era writing, Wilde is here for you. Lots of social commentary, wrote basically one piece in the Gothic style (Chapter 16 of The Picture of Dorian Gray, my favorite novel), snarky as hell, incredibly gifted writer.

Neil Gaiman: Modern surreal in my opinion, sometimes called modern Gothic, well-loved and writes creepy things. I think he’s average because I’ve read too much Murakami (who does “modern surreal” way, way better) but many people really love him.

THE BLACKLIST Knockoff Gothic/Gothic themed things to avoid. I apologize if you like any of these okay ._.

The Grisha Trilogy (Leigh Bardugo): Contemporary YA, tries to be Russian Gothic and fails. Stick to Deathless. This book makes a mockery of Russian culture whereas at least Valente exhaustively researched her novel. Also doesn’t do romance very well.

The Night Circus (Morgenstern): What the hell is this book, tbh. 400 pages of obtuse and cliched imagery which you don’t have time for in your life. No plot. Two-dimensional characters, bad writing.

Those Across The River (Christopher Buehlman): Terrible. Just terrible.

Uchu Sentai Kyuranger Review

So I’ve been sitting on this empty blog for months and I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it. But, finally, I’ve decided to turn this blog into a Henshin Hero blog!  And my first entry will be a review of UCHU SENTAI KYURANGER! 

( credit: https://malecoc.deviantart.com/ ) Since I just finished watching it, and it’s still fresh in my mind, it’s perfect for my first entry! I’ll try and keep spoilers to a minium.  Just from my first reaction, I’d say this was an enjoyable sentai. There were flaws, of course, but I’ll get into that when I talk about the negatives.  The Universe has taken over by an evil alien force known as “Jark Matter” under its ruler, Don Armage. Chosen by the Kyutama's, nine heroes become the legendary Kyurangers!  I believe this the first time the villains have ever actually won in a sentai show. In every sentai show before Kyurangers, the plot revolves around the rangers trying to stop the villain's plans of world/universe/galactic domination/destruction you name it. In Kyurangers, however, the villains have already taken over the universe. For hundreds of years no less! I like this. It’s something different from the usual “The villains are coming! We need heroes!” plot sentai loves to use and for that, I give it credit.  On to the positives and negatives:  POSITIVES:  -It’s Sentai...IIIINNNN SPAAAACE!:  It’s a Space Opera themed sentai! I mean what more can you love?! The fact that they’re not just on Earth and that they travel to different planets is awesome and something I hope other Sentais do in the future!  -The Opening and Ending Themes:  This is in, my opinion, the first sentai where the OP and ED are amazing!  The Opening starts off telling the story of the legend of the Kyurangers “When the universe is in sorrow, 9 heroes chosen by the Kyu Globes will come together and form the Kyurangers!” And once that OP hits, I get shivers up my spine. Sorry if that sounds weird, but it’s honestly true. Not only is it one of the OP’s in Sentai, but I also love how hopeful it sounds. Like yeah, the Universe is in run by an evil overlord, but don’t worry! The Kyurangers are here! Even in the opening shot of them, you can see “hope.” The Orion opens its doors and the light of the sun shines on all 9 Kyurangers. I love it!  The ending theme is also great! It’s super silly but EXTREMELY catchy. You’ll find yourself humming it for days!  -The Suits:  These are some of these best suit designs in Sentai, no question. From the different helmet and visor designs to added details like fur on Ookami Blues suit, every Kyuranger is unique in their own way without sticking out like a sore thumb either.  Also, Shishi Red Orion is one of the best-upgraded sentai suits. It’s utterly gorgeous.  -The Henshin Sequence and Roll Call:  I like it!. A color-coded star appears underneath the Kyurangers (above in Houou Soldiers case), they’re individual constellation symbols come out and form the suits while the kyutama symbols form the helmets. It’s not an overly complex henshin but it is beautiful to watch.  I also enjoy the roll call with the each Kyuranger calling out which star system they’re from (excluding Koguma Skyblue who say’s “Big Star” and Houou Solider who say’s “Space Bu-star”) and ranger name over the backdrop of a planet. -The Gun Ryutsueder and Houou Blade & Houou Shield:  I love weapon Henshin devices. Not because they’re always convenient or practical, but because they look awesome and Ryu Commanders Gun Ryutsueder and Houou Soldiers Blade and Shield are no exception. Also, what’s better than a staff that turns into a sniper rifle? -Lucky: Lucky started off REALLY annoying and grating, as I’ll get when I get into the negatives, but as the show goes on he becomes much more competent, he becomes WAY less annoying and a great leader worthy of the red ranger title.  -Balance (Tenbin Gold) and Nāga (Hebitsukai Silver):  Next to Lucky and Stinger, Balance and Nāga are the most fleshed out characters in the show. They even have their own story arc which is rare, especially in modern sentai shows, for a ranger that isn’t red to have multiple episodes dedicated to them and their struggles. I don’t wanna spoil too much, but let’s just say it’s nice that a ranger other than the red gets a power up and a suit change. 

-The Stinger Arc:  While beat for beat, it’s similar to Sasuke and Itachi’s rivalry from Naruto, the writers still did a great job fleshing out Stinger's back story with him and his brother with a great conclusion too. Which goes into my next positive. -The show isn’t completely revolved around the Lucky:  Modern sentais have a bad habit of only fleshing out the red ranger properly and leaving everyone in the dust. Kyurangers, however, goes a good job at mostly fleshing out the other characters personalities and back stories.  -The Villians:  As mentioned above, Jark Matter is the first villain faction in sentai to actually win. Since this series takes place in a different universe from the main Sentai one, unlike when the Zangyack tried to invade Earth in Gokaiger, Jark Matter had no sentai team to oppose them until the Kyurangers came along. By then, Jark Matter had already taken over the universe. It’s a  nice switch up from the typical villain plots Sentai usually gives us.  NEGATIVES:  -Lucky:  At least in the beginning. At first, he’s annoying, rash, loud and an idiot. Thankfully he goes under some character development about a quarter of the way through, but before that, he was almost unbearable. Which brings me to... -His Catchphrase “YOSSHA LUCKY!”:  It’s by no means a bad catchphrase, but when your main character says it in nearly every other sentence, it becomes grating REAL quick. Thankfully as the show goes on, Lucky doesn’t say it as much as he does in the earlier episodes but even then there are times where he says it when he shouldn’t like in some very emotional scenes which I won't discuss since they’re very spoilery. It comes off as really cheesy at times and not in a good way.  -The Seiza Blaster and Kyutama’s:  When it comes to Henshin devices, I prefer convenient over flashy, except in the case of weapon henshin devices then it’s awesome...usually. The Seiza Blaster is an exception to that rule. The Seiza Blaster for the other 10 Kyurangers is just ugly in my opinion. It’s oversized gauntlet shaped like a gun, but you wouldn’t notice that it’s shaped like a gun unless you turn it sideways. It also has this giant black handle on the end of it that doesn’t need to be there.  The Kyutama’s are fine as toy collectibles, but as a henshin device, I feel they’re too small and could get easily lost. I know that sounds strange, but I’ve never been a fan of the two-piece henshin devices unless they’re like Dairanger’s or Ohranger’s devices where they’re strapped on to the user’s wrists or are something convenient like a cell phone or jewelry .  -The Limited Budget: As much as I enjoyed Kyurangers, It’s clear that maybe this show was a little too much for Toei to handle. Heck, at one point they poke fun at it and even explain why no more than five rangers are allowed on a mission at one time. They even use a device called the Kyulette that randomly picks who goes. As such, it’s obvious at times where the budget went to and where it didn’t.  Going to a new planet? Let’s use set locations that clearly look like Earth, but add a few alien looking plant things and maybe add a color filter to the sky!  Ok, maybe I’m being a little too harsh. I understand shows can’t always make the most outlandish settings for a sci/fi series, so sometimes they have to make do with what they can. I can suspend my disbelief when it comes to that, but there are somethings are just so glaringly obvious that it’s hard not to.  For example, The Mr.Pegasus Chestguard. There’s a reason it’s only shown in two episodes. It was already falling apart even though the show was barely into its 5th episode!  Then there’s the Consumerz, the giant fortress/spaceship drills. Their CGI models are fine, it’s what INSIDE of them is what bugs me. I won't say what happens exactly, but there’s one episode where the Kyurangers are inside a Consumer and the inside is just a huge room with giant cement pillars. I mean they could have at least painted over the pillars to LOOK like an alien spaceship but nope. It’s the exact area where Kamen Rider Faizes finale takes place!  Like I said, I understand with a limited budget, not everything is going to look fantastic and that I have to suspend my disbelief, but at least try to make it look like what you want to show! - Spada, Raptor, Garu, and Hammie.  Remember when I said that “most” of the characters are fleshed out? Yeah... Unfortunately, Spada, Raptor, Garu, and Hammie are the characters with the least amount of development. Starting from best to worst, Hammie is the most fleshed out of the four, but that’s not saying much. We do see her backstory in an early episode.  She was a young ninja in training in the Chameleon system who escaped Jark Matter after they invaded her village, but her past isn’t really brought up a lot, unlike Lucky’s or Stinger’s.  We do learn a bit more about her in later episodes, but it’s not much and isn’t really brought up again.  Garu is a furry-I mean, “Wolfman” alien whose whole clan died to a Jark Matter invasion. We find out his entire backstory in the first episode...and then it's never explored again. Like Hammie, he mentions it in a couple of episodes, but that’s it. He actually becomes a kind of joke character to the others. Always getting picked on and whatnot. You would think he’d have some pretty hardcore PTSD even after joining the Kyurangers but nope! Lucky punching him the face...or snout is all it takes. It’s sad because there’s a lot of potential there and storytelling. Like I’m sure he had a family. A mother, father, siblings. Even remembering a friend would have been better, but we get nothing! It’s like the writers at times forgot all about it! Raptor is an android built by the Resistance to serve the Orion and Commander Shou Ronpo. She writes fanfics, is really smart, and hits the commander a lot. She has one episode that’s fully dedicated to her and that’s when she get’s her Kyuranger powers, but nothing really in-depth after that. It’s funny, we know how Champ is built and who built him, but not with Raptor. We’re told who developed her but are never shown how. And now we get to the lest developed main character in the show. Spada.  He’s a chef and makes food puns. That’s his whole character. If you think the other three's development was bad, Hoooo boy... Raptor didn’t get much development, but at least her role is important what with piloting the Orion and keeping Shou Ronpo in line. Spada acts more like the Kyurangers personal servant. Heck, Tsurgi (Houhou Soldier) even makes him his servant at one point.  We get like a couple of lines of dialog about his past in one of the early episodes. He grew up on some planet or moon (never specified) in the Kajiki system and has cooked since he was little for his siblings. And then it’s never mentioned again! It sucks too because he had potential to grow into an interesting character. All four of them do, but they’re never given the proper development to do so.  I know I harped on a lot of the negatives, and while they are pretty glaring, they didn’t stop me too much from enjoying this series.  There’s a lot here to love here and if you love space opera’s and sentai, there’s no better show to watch then this! Hope you enjoyed my review! I’ve never done a long review like this before so if there are any suggestions you have for me, I’m totally open to them!  Next up is another Sentai!  This time, I’m going all the way back to the mid 90′s to watch “ Ninja Sentai Kakuranger!” 

Eleven Questions

I was tagged by the amazing @jeffreydeanneganstrash @neganismyobsession and @sherrybaby14 to play this game. 

Rules.

1. Post the Rules. 2. Answer the questions given to you. 3. Make 11 questions of your own. 4. Tag 11 people.

Since I was tagged 3 times, I’m gonna slightly cheat by answering the 33 questions I was asked, then write 11 of my own questions to tag 11 people in (rather than create 33 questions which I would spend all night coming up with lol). 

I’m putting a keep reading bar because this got hella long.

@neganismyobsession‘s Questions:

1. Favorite movie genre?

Lately, it seems to be horror, although I’m always a sucker for a good romance. 

2. If you could bring one thing to show your favorite celebrity, what would it be?

Tbh, if I ever met JDM, I’d love to magically have the resources to print out a copy of ID to give him, or at the very least take the first chapter and ask him to sign it. No shame lol

3. Who is your favorite fanfic writer?

Just one?!?! Oh god...I read fanfiction in so many fandoms that I literally can’t say I have one favorite. However, I’m gonna give a shoutout to my girl @hannibalssweaters whose writing has introduced me to some kinks I didn’t even know I was into, and has had me reading fics about characters/fandoms I’m not even involved with. If you haven’t read her stuff, I strongly encourage it (altho heed the warnings).

4. If you could live anywhere where money was not an issue, where would you live?

Ireland, most likely

5. What brought you to Tumblr originally?

Oh wow...that was back in like 2011, and I only made a tumblr because my undergrad roommates were talking about it and told me that I should, so I did lol

6. What is your favorite past time?

Reading...does that count?

7. If the zombie apocalypse did happen, what is the first thing you would do?

Pack up my cats and attempt to make it back to my hometown, although that’s a 4 hour drive away so idk if I’d make it. But I’d have a much better chance of survival in my small hometown out in the woods than I’d ever have here in a major city. I honestly think I’d be pretty fucked and die really quickly just trying to get out of here.

8. What is one movie you could watch over and over and not get tired of it?

Pride & Prejudice

9. If you could have been born in another time era, what time era would you pick?

Tbh, the reality of any past era is not one I’d be interested in, especially as a woman. But I love reading romance novels set in various historical eras. 

10. If you could be a famous person, who would you be?

Hmm...maybe Taylor Swift? Just to know what that level of fame would be like, but also because she’s relatable enough with her cats and old lady habits that I wouldn’t feel totally unlike myself lol

11. Apple or Android?

Apple

@jeffreydeanneganstrash‘s Questions:

1. Was there a book or movie that you read/watched that truly disappointed you? If so, which book/movie and why?

Book: The Game of Thrones series. I love the show (although I’m a few seasons behind) and bought the first 4 books, planning on trying to catch up and surpass where the show was, so I could know what happens next. I barely made it halfway through the first book before giving up. I was so disappointed that I just had no interest in it at all, and was forcing myself to read it. It wasn’t worth the dedication needed to read those beast-sized novels, if I wasn’t enjoying them.

2. If you could travel back in time, where would you go?

I kinda stated above how I personally would not wanna go back in time, because I like having more rights now as a woman than we have had in the past haha. I’m also not super into history, so I’m good with leaving the past in the past. 

3. What is your favourite quote or song lyric?

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” ~Marilyn Monroe

4. Who is you least favourite “popular” celebrity and why?

Donald. Fucking Donald. Do I even need to explain why?

5. When there’s something strange in your neighbourhood…who are you gonna call?

Hmm...I usually call my mother or grandmother in any panicky situations, so I guess one of them? Although they live 4 hours away, so idk how helpful they’d be if it was a physical danger lol. 

6. Would you ever play with a ouija board?

Fuck no

7. If you could be a part of any T.V./Movie universe, which would it be?

Most TV shows I watch are ones where human women end up dead way too often lmao. Uhhh...Harry Potter, perhaps?

8. Do you prefer mornings or nights?

Nights, definitely. Even though I have to be at work at 8am, I don’t think I’ll ever totally get used to that early morning shit.

9. Can you name 11 things that are around you?

couch, fluffy blanket, glass of water, laptop, cell phone, coffee table, 2 books on said coffee table, cat scratch post, 2 cats, purse, boots

10. Black or white?

Black

11. What is the soundtrack to your life?

One song that I relate to a lot and jam out to is Alessia Cara’s “Wild Things” lol. Also, just about anything by Taylor Swift or Kelly Clarkson is usually pretty relatable. 

@sherrybaby14‘s Questions:

1. Favorite Holiday?

Thanksgiving (which is coming up!) or my birthday, if that counts

2. Santa is going to bring you one toy this year. What do you ask for?

Heh...I’d probably pick out one of the super expensive sex toys that I’ve seen and lamented being unable to afford.

3. If money were not a concern, what would your dream job be?

Being a published writer

4. What are your favorite type of puzzles?

Ohhh I love puzzles of all kinds. I went through a phase a couple of years ago with large jigsaw puzzles that I then glued and framed. But I also love Sudoku, which I haven’t done in forever. 

5. What was your first kiss like?

Drunk and nothing special

6. If you had to change your first name, what name would you pick?

I’d refuse. I love my first name. It’s unique, and I rarely ever meet anyone else with it. 

7. What is the best dessert you can make?

I make some pretty bangin’ chocolate chip pumpkin cookies from scratch. 

8. What are you thankful for this year?

I feel like I went through quite a few stressful and heartbreaking tests this year, such as being unexpectedly evicted from my apartment due to renovations earlier in the year, and watching one of my cats lose his health over a period of 6 months and having to finally make the decision to put him down in August. Both those situations were ones where I just wanted to let my mental health tank, let the depression take over, and give up. So, I’m really thankful for my support system. For my family who offered support, for my friends offline who were always there to talk, come over and let me vent, or help me in whatever ways they could. I was also incredibly thankful for my tumblr family. The Negan fandom (and some lovelies in the Supernatural fandom) provided so much support to me that I will be forever thankful for. I had so many people message me about both situations, and I even received over $200 in ko-fi donations for my writing, to help out with moving expenses. I don’t have enough words to even express how much all the messages and asks and just the aura of support I received, both on here and offline, meant to me. Because of that support from those around me, I was able to keep myself from falling prey to my depression, was able to find a new apartment that I absolutely love, and was able to make it through the loss of Sebastian (and I now own a new kitten who has helped patch up both my grief and my other cat’s grief, and refill both our hearts with love). So, to everyone who sent me a message, sent donations, and/or just had me in your thoughts...thank you. I couldn’t have kept it together and made it through without y’all. 

(Sorry, that got uber cheesy XD)

9. Do you decorate for Christmas? If so, do you have any theme?

Ha, no. The cats would destroy any decorations, so I don’t even make the effort. 

10. Do you enjoy getting ready (i.e. hair, makeup, clothes)?

Eh, not like I used to when I was younger. I take maybe 15 minutes to throw myself together for work in the morning. It’s only a few select times a year when I’m either going home or to a friend’s house for a holiday (or the one time a year when I go out drinking for my birthday) when I enjoy putting on music and taking my time getting all made up and going all out with makeup and such.

11. Favorite store to shop in?

Probably Target. Or Kohl’s. 

Now, for My Questions: 

1. Do you have any pets? If so, what species, and what are their names?

2. Your favorite place that you’ve traveled to?

3. What are you currently reading?

4. One thing that you’re currently looking forward to?

5. Where do you hopefully see yourself in 5 years?

6. Your favorite flavor of ice cream?

7. What’s the best piece of advice that you’ve ever received?

8. Favorite brand/chain/type of coffee?

9. One thing you never leave home without?

10. Name 3 things (can be physical, emotional, etc.) that you love about yourself. 

11. If you were to recommend one published book/series for me to read, what would it be?

I’m gonna just tag a bunch of people since I answered more than 11 questions: @i-am-negan-trash @hannibalssweaters @strangersangel9 @vizhi0n @mrs-squirrel-chester @kellyn1604 @seraphimkouenki @superprincesspea @megmeg-chan @noodlecupcakes @faith-in-dean @sweetsweetpeach @ryangoslingstanktop @negan--is--god @thegirl-fromthesky @hazel-nuss @backseat-negan @autumnescape @wickednerdery @bamby0304 @embracetheapocalypsewithme @wheresthekillswitch @rapsity @supernaturally-lucky @superwholoki 

Dear Friend,

May 23, 2017

Part I It’s been fourteen days since I’ve last written to you. I’m very sorry for that.  I’ve actually been really busy lately.  I’m on vacation visiting my dear friend Marie.  She’s the one that sends me letters in the mail.  It’s been lovely staying with her.  She’s made me feel at home: making me dinner, buying me gifts, and letting me do all the things I want to do.  Lately we’ve been watching a lot of tv shows and movies and reading and writing.  It’s a good feeling to be doing things you don’t usually do.  It feels productive to me.  I won’t tell you where I am, but I will tell you that I’m still in Texas.  I’m a lot more north than usual so it’s very strange to be in a town that has sixty-seven degree weather at the moment.  I’m really not used to it at all.  I just checked the weather back home - it’s eighty-nine degrees and cloudy.  I bet it’s really humid too.  I wasn’t expecting it to be so cool here, so I didn’t pack any long sleeve clothing.  It’s a wonderful feeling though, to be somewhere different and to not be in ninety degree weather for once.   I like being a little cold. I’d rather be shivering than sweating my ass off.  I’ve been here for almost a week now.  A part of me doesn’t want to go home, because for once I’m really happy. But the other part of me knows that I can’t be here for long.    I left my problems at home.  I feel so stress free, not having to worry about them.  Like the fact that my ex-boyfriend is going to Finland.  Like the fact that he hasn’t paid our car; I took it away from him and now I have to get it repossessed; It’s going to ruin my credit, but it has to be done; I want to cut all ties with him.   Like the fact that I don’t have to worry about work and seeing my case manager.  Like the fact that I don’t have to do so many things for my parents.  The only problems that traveled with me was my financial ones.  I’m running out of money and this trip probably made that worse.  I left the people who don’t care about me at home.  Like Voldemort and other people that I thought I could call my friend.  Like my friend Diana - She told my ex-boyfriend about Taylor after he and I went to Applebee’s with Josh and Sabrina one day.  She was our waitress.  She honestly had no right to do that and I don’t understand why she had to keep tabs on me for him.  I found this out because one day, when my ex and I were fighting about the car, he had the audacity to bring up Taylor.  He texted me, “Hey. Be careful with your new boy. He’s been around the block. Just because we have animosity between us doesn’t mean I want you to get hurt. Don’t let your guard down. I had class with his twin. And if you think I’m doing this to mess with you, then you obviously don’t know me at all. All I’ve ever done for you is look out for you. Have a nice life.”   This made me so upset.  Diana had obviously told him about Taylor because she is the only person that still talks to my ex.  It’s so sad that little does she not know that he did nothing but talk shit about her when she didn’t say goodbye to him before she left back to California.  Now that she’s back, I thought she and I could be friends again; not after this stunt.  My ex can have her and continue being a fake friend.  I wanted to tell him so many things that he didn’t want to hear.  I was so upset and hurt and in so much pain.  Why does he have to keep up with me? I don’t want him to keep up with me.  It’s pathetic.  I don’t give a shit about him anymore. Why can’t he just not care about me just the same as I don’t. Instead, he decides to stir the shit pot of emotions that I have locked up inside that want to come out. I just want him to leave me alone.  If he wants me to be happy, then he shouldn’t have left when I needed him the most, as a friend.  I just left… Everything. Even the people I do love and that love me back.  Like my parents, Josh, Jenna, Angel, and Aaron. That’s the only part of me that does want to go home.  I want to go home to my family and my good friends.  I miss them very much.  They are my light.  And I know I can go to them for anything.  They keep me strong.  I don’t know what I would do without them.  Part II This city I’m in - it reminds me of home.  There isn’t much to do and there’s a lot of other cities next to this one. So, if we decide to take a trip to some other town, it takes about twenty minutes.  Like I said, there isn’t much to do, but we are making the most out of my time here.  For example, just the other day, she and I decided to take a drive to a neighboring city to walk around the mall there.  I bought myself a Dragonball Z statue of Teen Gohan from GameStop.  It was an early birthday gift to myself - it’s a few weeks away.  I also bought myself a a face serum from Sephora.  We were at the mall for over an hour.  When we were done window shopping, we rode to Best Buy so I could buy a new screen protector for my phone.  I was lucky enough to find the last one there.  Then, we went to Staples so Marie could buy some blue ink for her new pen.  That’s also when I bought my first calligraphy pen.  When she saw it, she said I had to buy it because I’m a “writer” now. Am I? So I bought it.  Afterwards, we walked to a Barnes and Noble that was nearby.  That’s when I bought my first journal.  Marie said I should get it so I could write down all my thoughts.  So, I did.  Later, on our way back home, we stopped at a Panera Bread. I had never been there before and Marie really wanted me to try it.  I wanted to try something new, so I thought - why not? She parked the car and turned to me. “Do you want to take down your book so we can read when we’re done eating?” “Yeah, sure. That sounds like a good idea,” I said, smiled, and continued. “Hey. I can take my journal too. Maybe I can write about what we’ve been doing today.” “Oh my gosh. Yes. You should!” With excitement, I grabbed my newly purchased journal and a book called The Reason by Lacey Sturm and walked into Panera Bread. I’ve had the book for a good eight months now. I haven’t bothered finishing it because I get so lazy. I do hope to finish it soon.  I walked in with Marie and was a little confused with the set-up. They had kiosks on the side so people could order their food themselves.  “Do you want to use these so we can look at the whole menu?” Marie asked and pointed at the high-tech looking kiosks.  “Yeah. I know I’m probably going to take a long time deciding anyway.” That comment ended up being very true.  I didn’t know what I wanted to eat.  I also didn’t want to try something too risky.  But I also didn’t want to try something safe.  I was so indecisive.  There was so many options.  After about five minutes of thoroughly navigating the menu on this ten inch screen, I figured out what I wanted to eat.  I decided on a turkey and ham sandwich with a few vegetables and a cup of chicken noodle soup on the side.  I also ordered a papaya green tea that turned out to be very delicious.  Marie and I sat down by the window secluded from other people.  In fact, we were alone for a good twenty minutes in the section we chose to sit at until some lady and her daughter decided to dine-in a few tables away. It didn’t take long for our food to come out.  Within ten minutes, an employee brought out our meals. The sandwich waiting to be eaten by me looked so delicious and the soup was still steaming hot.  I took my first bite of my panini - God, I was right.  Delicious!  The soup was just as good.  Marie got a turkey bacon club on a croissant bread with a broccoli and cheese soup.  I didn’t try her sandwich but I did try her soup.  It was sadly better than mine.  I knew I should’ve gotten that one instead when I was being so indecisive at the kiosk.  Didn’t matter; I enjoyed my meal nevertheless.  When we finished our meals, Marie started reading a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller and I started writing in my journal.  I wrote about our day, which I have already mentioned to you earlier.  Then I started to read the book that has been on chapter six for the past eight months. I only read one chapter while I was there.  I would’ve read more, but we had to leave if we wanted to take a walk at the park before sunset.  So, I closed my book, took my journal with my first entry in it, and left with my best friend back to her apartment.  I guess I should start calling it home. For now… Part III I will admit that it feels a little strange to be so far away from home.  I haven’t traveled alone (without family or a boyfriend) in about six years.  The farthest I’ve driven alone was San Antonio when I wanted to visit my lesbian friend Renee.  Irregardless of the fact that this city reminds me of home, it definitely doesn’t feel like it - I’m surprised I haven’t had an anxiety attack.  As I said earlier… I miss my parents.  I miss my dog Zoey.  And I miss my friends - especially Josh.  I felt really bad that I left the day before his birthday.  So, to make it up to him, (before I left) I bought him a cute birthday card and wrote him a note.  I also wrote him a two page letter and sent him some money.  I left it in my mailbox and thankfully it was delivered to him the next day.  He was really happy and surprised to get something like that from me.  He only read the card on his birthday.  Josh said that he was scared to read the letter because he thought it said something bad, like that I was moving away for good and wasn’t going back.  Thankfully, I don’t intend on that.  I do want to go back home, eventually.  Just yesterday, two days after his birthday, he finally read the letter.  He thought it was really sweet and it made him smile a lot. His girlfriend wanted to read it too, but he didn’t let her.  She just read the card, and when she did she said to him, “Dude, I think Alex is in love with you.” He laughed and said that we are only friends.  I am in love with him… But, I know I can never be with him.  I’m just grateful to have him in my life as a wonderful friend than not at all.  I care about him too much and I don’t know what I would do without him. He’s always been there for me when I needed him.  I couldn’t ask for anyone better.  He makes me so happy, and he doesn’t even have to try. I didn’t think the card was enough. On my way over here, I stayed in San Antonio for a night because I didn’t want to drive straight here on the same day. While I was there, I stopped at a few stores at North Star Mall.  I went to this novelty shop called Think Geek.  I found a lot of Rick and Morty stuff that I got for his birthday.  I don’t plan on sending them to him, because I want to see his face when I give them to him.  I also bought him an animated movie called Princess Mononoke and had it sent to his house.  He just got it today. He was so surprised.  He texted me. “Oh my god Alex! How many things did you buy me?” I replied.  “Why?” “I got the movie. Thank you Alex. Oh my god.” He was obviously speechless.  “Aww. Do you like it? Did it make you smile? It got there quick! I just ordered it on Sunday!” “Yes. Of course! I love this movie.”  “I got you a lot more things. But I won’t send them to you. I want to see you open them.” “Oh my god. You’re insane.” “You love me.” “I do,” he confirmed. That made my heart clench.  He’s so cute.  I missed him so much that I had to ask him if he could FaceTime me.  We didn’t talk until late in the night because he was busy playing a raid on Destiny all day.  So to kill time, I started watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I with Marie.   In the middle of the movie he finally called me on FaceTime. I paused the movie, walked to the blow up mattress that was behind me, and answered him.  The phone took a while to connect us.  After a moment of looking at a black screen, I saw his face for the first time in a few days.  I know it seems pathetic of me to say that I missed it because I just saw him last week, but I can’t help but want to always see him.  He was shirtless and I could see that he got a haircut.  It looked nice and clean.  “Hey Josh,” I said with a big smile.  “Hey Alex,” he replied and mirrored my smile.  His smile is so crooked and his teeth matched it just the same.  He doesn’t like his smile, but that’s what I love the most about him. Then it’s his eyes.  He looks tired all the time, but somehow I’m attracted to that.  “Your hair looks good! I like it.”  “Oh. Thanks. The girl that was cutting my hair messed up the back. She was annoying me” I couldn’t help but giggle. “What? Why do you say that?” “Because. She wouldn’t shut up. She just kept on talking and talking. She wouldn’t shut up!” He repeated. “I literally just wanted to tell her, ‘Bitch. Shut up and just cut my fucking hair.’” I bursted out laughing! Josh was on speaker so Marie heard what he said too.  She was laughing just as hard as me.  I couldn’t catch my breath.  Then when I was just about to, I’d turn to Marie to catch her still laughing! This, of course, made me laugh even more… “Why are you laughing?” Josh asked. He laughed and then continued, “If Marie is telling you things about me then you need to tell me. What did she say? Why are you laughing?” He repeated. I took another moment to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. “She didn’t say anything. We’re just laughing at what you said! It was so funny!” My stomach started to hurt from all the shrieking giggles.  It was the good kind of hurt though.  “Alright. I guess Alex,” he said as he gave me that compelling stare of his.  The rest of the conversation was mostly about his day and mine.  Like what I’ve been doing lately while I’ve been away.  I told him that I’ve been writing a lot - physical letters.  I told him about my adventure to the neighboring city. I told him how I’ve been feeling.   And how Marie and I have been doing a lot of cute things together.  He told me his girls weren’t there which was odd because it was a Monday.  Usually, they are back by Sundays from the mom.  He also mentioned that he got written up at work because someone decided to show up two hours late to cover his shift.  The managers knew he wasn’t going in and this girl, the one that took over his shift, knew what time he had to work and decides to show up late. Then he’s the one that gets written up? I don’t see how that was fair.  A few minutes later, the conversation started to die out. We had nothing left to talk about. Coincidentally, he got a phone call from his girlfriend.  “Hey. Sabrina is calling me. I have to go.” Josh said in a rush.  “Alright Josh. I’m glad we were able to talk tonight.” “Me too Alex. I love you. I’ll talk to you later.” “Love you too. Bye-bye.” I hung up my phone with a smile.  It wouldn’t go away.  I almost forgot I was with Marie.  She was quietly watching videos on Instagram on her phone.  I got off from the air mattress and walked up to the empty chair by the bar.  I looked at Marie, gave her a smile, and she gave me one right back.  She didn’t say anything - she didn’t have to.  I hovered my hand over the computer to press play as I asked her, “Are you ready?” “Yas queen,” she said.  We both laughed. I pushed play and we continued to watch the magical world of Harry Potter until the night ended… Part IV I don’t know when I’ll be back home. When I leave here, I plan on going to visit my friends in Austin.  My good friend that would like to be referred to as Fisto Roboto said I could stay at his place for a few days.  I asked him last week if I could go visit him and stay at his apartment. He never replied, but the next day he sent me a Snap of him in a cap and gown. It was graduation day for him. I sent him a message on Snapchat. “Oh my god. You look so freaking cute! Congrats! I hope you have a wonderful day.” He replied. “Thank you so much! I hope you have a great day too!” I thought it was really strange that he sent me a photo on Snapchat, but not reply to my text the day before.  Was he ignoring me? Did he not want me visiting him? I didn’t bother asking him again because I didn’t want to be annoying.  To my surprise, a few days later, I noticed that my text never went through to him while I was at Panera Bread with Marie.  That’s when I saw that my iMessage didn’t go through and my send button turned green.  I decided to send him a message on Snapchat again. “Hey! Is your phone not working? Or do you not have an iPhone anymore?” “No iPhone,” he responded. I felt a little relieved. “Oh. No wonder. I texted you last week! I wanted to ask you something!”   “What is it?” “I’m not sure if I should ask. I don’t want to be annoying.” “Don’t be afraid to ask me something silly boy. Just say it.” I got a little nervous as I typed out the words. “Well. I texted you because I wanted to know what you’re doing the weekend of June 2nd.” “Hmm. I don’t have any plans. What’s up?” “I was hoping I could stay over for a few days if you weren’t busy. You can tell me no!” “Haha. Yeah of course! You know you’re always welcomed here. On June 2nd, I’m free after 5:00pm. Now that I’m done with school I have a lot of free time.” “Oh my gosh. Okay! That’s awesome! We can go to the arcade and go drink!” “That sounds like a lot of fun.” “Yes it does. Let me know if anything changes!” I was already getting so excited to see him.  Given our history, I’m expecting something to happen with him, but sadly, he has a girlfriend.  “Alright. I will!” The conversation ended there.  Today, we continued that conversation. I texted him. “Fisto Roboto.” “Alexxxxxxxx.” “I just wanted to tell you that I hope you have a great day today!” I like to send cute messages like that when I’m thinking about someone a lot. “I hope you have a great day too!” “Thank you!” “Alex. When are you planning on staying?” Oh no. Something must have come up. Why would he be asking me otherwise? Ugh.  I knew it was too good to be true.  “June 2nd! Why?? I can go a little before or after? My schedule is really flexible.” “June 3rd and 4th: Campfire and wedding proposal to attend.” I knew it.  I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay. “Oh! Alright. Should I go a few days before then? Maybe the 31st of May?” “I’m saying you’re invited too, if you’d like to go. Haha.” I dropped my jaw. I was in utter shock.  I couldn’t believe he was inviting me! Why isn’t his girlfriend going? I thought.  “Oh! Okay! That sounds so fun! I’ll go!” He never replied after that. I’m honestly really curious now to know if he’s still with his girlfriend or not.  I’m anticipating so much to happen if he and I decide to go drinking and he somehow accidentally gets drunk. I also wonder where I will sleep when I stay with him.  I wonder if he’ll let me sleep on the same bed as him… I don’t want to sleep on the pull out sofa-bed in his living room. I like him a lot and think he’s so cute. I know I won’t let the opportunity go pass by if it decides to be offered to me. And by “it” I mean his body.  It’s getting me excited just thinking about it.  I want to be with him already.  I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens when the time comes.  For now, I will continue to be stress-free. For now, I will continue to have a good time with my best friend. For now, I will continue to keep writing about my life.  All these things are too calming for me to give them up.  I need to take advantage of this moment, because I know when I get back home, all the problems that I left behind will still be there. Waiting for me...  Waiting to tear me apart again. Love always, Alex

Nobuhiko Obayashi, an idiosyncratic Japanese filmmaker whose varied resume included a horror film about a house full of furniture eating schoolgirls, a fantasy about a boy who befriends a six-inch tall samurai and a anti-war trilogy that he finished while being treated for cancer, died on April 10 in Tokyo. He was 82 years old.The cause was lung cancer, which was first diagnosed in 2016, said the Associated Press, citing an advertisement on the website for its latest film, "Labyrinth of Cinema".Mr. Obayashi's first surprising feature in 1977 was "House", a crazy horror film that is more comical than scary. The Los Angeles Times called it "one of the strangest and most enduring cult films of recent decades."Reviewing in the New York Times in 2010, during a theatrical release at the IFC Center in Manhattan before the release of a DVD, Manohla Dargis described what was going on."It may be a haunted house," she wrote: “but it is the film that is most truly possessed: in a scene, a piano bites the fingers of a musician while tickling his keys; in another, a severed head tries to take a bite from the back of a girl, breaking her back as if it were an apple. Later, a room full of futons goes on the attack. "Mr. Obayashi followed “House” with several other films about young people. Some had supernatural powers, as in "The little girl who conquered time" (1983), over a time traveler. "The Rocking Horsemen" (1992) was a comedy about young Japanese people in the 1960s who discovered the American rock group the recording of "Pipeline" by the Ventures and were inspired to form their own group.In the fantasy adventure filled with special effects "Samurai Kids" (1993), an 8-year-old boy meets a former samurai warrior who is only six inches tall, allowing Mr. Obayashi to have fun by making a gigantic cat and a crow like an airliner."Nobuhiko Obayashi is a real fantasy", Donald Richie wrote in a brief review of this film in The International Herald Tribune. "Thanks to a quick cut, witty details and extraordinary care, he effortlessly rejects his prodigious events and transforms a children's film into a magic rich in emotions."Late in Mr. Obayashi's career came his anti-war trilogy, "Casting Blossoms to the Sky" (2012), "Seven Weeks" (2014) and "Hanagatami" (2017). The third of these, based on a 1937 novel by Kazuo Dan, was a film he had wanted to make 40 years earlier, at the start of his career."But it was a period of economic boom in Japan, driven by consumerism," he said. Asia Times told 2017 Times. "Everyone forgot about the war, and I realized it was not the right time."Whatever the subject, Mr. Obayashi's films were inventive both visually and in their narration."Obayashi baffled audiences with a strange and strange mixture of absurd humor, sexual innuendos, violence and melancholy," said Josh Siegel, film curator at the Museum of Modern Art, by email.The Japan Society, when it mounted an Obayashi retrospective in New York in 2015, simply called him "a filmmaker who is infinitely innovative".Mr. Obayashi was born on January 9, 1938 in Onomichi, in the prefecture whose capital is Hiroshima.He said he was hooked on the film for the first time when he found a projector at his home at the age of 3 and, thinking it was some kind of toy train, started to turn the handle. The image she projected started to move."I really liked it," he said through a translator. in a conference at the Japan Society retrospective, "this idea of ​​something that is starting to come to life and to move. It was really my first encounter with cinema."Mr. Siegel said that Hiroshima's atomic bombing still haunts Mr. Obayashi and could have led him to the collective of post-war artists, writers, performers and filmmakers known as the Art Theater Guild, who said Mr. Siegel, "rebelled politically and aesthetically extremist ways against the jingoist demands of self-sacrifice and unconditional obedience to the authority that had led to Japan's engagement in the war.Mr. Obayashi moved to Tokyo in the late 1950s and started experimenting with eight-millimeter films, and in the 1960s, part of his work was featured in art film screenings. One producer from an advertising company was at one of these screenings and offered Mr. Obayashi the opportunity to make short commercials. The result was a series of trippy ads, some featuring Western movie stars.One in particular has become a legend. Running for two minutes and invoking soft pornography, it stars Charles Bronson, who was popular in Japan after his film "Once upon a time in the West" (1968) was filmed, ripping his shirt and delving into a perfume called Mandom.Mr. Obayashi's wife, Kyoko, started out as an actress and played a small role in "House", but later became his producer. Their daughter, Chigumi, invented the story which was transformed into "House" ("Hausu" in Japan). Steven Spielberg also had something to do with this film, though inadvertently - Mr. Obayashi said that Toho Studios, which hired him to make a feature film about the strength of its popular television commercials, noted that " Jaws' by M. Spielberg (1975) was a huge success."They asked," Do you have a movie that looks like sharks attacking humans? "", He told the online magazine. The Notebook in 2019. "And so I consulted my daughter Chigumi, and 'Hausu' was born."Mr. Obayashi has made over 40 films in all. His wife and daughter survive him.His films have often been greeted with mixed reviews. For example, Mr. Richie was less attracted to “Sada” (1998), a reminder of the life of Sada Abe, the protagonist of the 1976 Nagisa Oshima film, “In the Realm of the Senses”."Obayashi's strong point is usually his carelessness," Richie wrote in a review, "but here, nonchalant carelessness becomes carelessness. Sada deserves much better. "Mr. Obayashi, however, was all about difficult viewers. In an interview with Tokyo Weekender in 2014, he admitted that he had not followed the usual practice of starting with a script and following its structure."The shooting is very random," he said. "It’s almost like making a sculpture and removing small pieces and putting them back. This is the editing process. But what I'm doing is removing that little piece and putting it somewhere else and seeing what's going on, maybe creating a little bump and then putting it back. ""I call it" charming chaos, "" he said. "I want to communicate with the public, I want them to find their own way and get lost first and find their own way." https://oltnews.com/unpredictable-japanese-director-nobuhiko-obayashi-dies-at-82?_unique_id=5e9d30ce3e3cf

Roll Out the Red Carpet: It’s Time for the Annual Secret-Diary Awards

TRIGGER WARNING: THIS FINISHES ON A REALLY BLEAK NOTE

So, with Xmas gone and just a few days until New Year, 2019 is staggering to a richly-deserved close.. which means it’s time to look back and hand out some entirely hypotherical awards to people and cultural products that don’t know I exist and wouldn’t care if they did. It’s fair to say this year has been a mixed bag of the transcendent and the appalling. Kind of like a sandwich bag full of ferrero roche and cat sick. Without further ado, it’s time to rummage through that bag and pull out the most succulent chocolates and the most nauseating lumps of vomit to give them their fifteen minutes of ill-founded notoriety.

The Jason Voorhees Award for Best New Horror Villain... ... Goes to the kid from Brightburn (who eventually becomes known as Brightburn himself, incidentally). In the 70s and 80s it was easy to grab attention as a horror movie antagonist, because there wasn’t a huge amount of competetion. Jason himself bludgeoned his way into the public’s heart and the collective cultural unconscious just by being unkillable and refreshingly workmanlike in his approach to homicide. Freddie grabbed attention with a nothing more than some surreal nightmare sequences and a glove with knives on it. Nowadays, the standard’s much higher. Luckily, Brightburn brought something fresh to the table: all the powers of Superman combined with the moral compass of a drugged-up rock musician. I, for one, look forward to his next murder project and/or concept album.

The ‘Dog With its Head Trapped in a KFC Bucket’ Award for Most Self-Defeating Move of the Year... ... Goes to the British public, who had an election this year in which they were invited to choose between a kindly older gent who wanted to renationalise the railways and ensure the survival of the NHS and a drivel-spouting upper-class buffoon who wants to destroy the NHS, destroy traveller communities, antagonise the E.U. and repeal the laws that protect against animal cruelty. The British people chose the upper-class buffoon, because (and I have to admit that I’m guessing here, but it’s an educated guess) THEY’RE GIBBERING FUCKWITS DEVOID OF BOTH COMMON SENSE AND EMPATHY.

The ‘I Told You So Award’ for Most Comprehensively Murdered Franchise... ... Goes to Terminator: Dark Fate. The Terminator films have always made intelligent use of both male and female leads, balancing the need for a feminine narrative voice against the fact that their audience are mainly there to see big manly, macho robots beat nine shades of crap out of eachother. In an effort to appear ‘woke’ (to use the parlance of today’s hot young bell-ends), Terminator: Dark Fate elected to sideline the big, manly macho robots in favour of three female leads, only one of whom was Jamie Lee Curtis. This failure to accept that the audience for the Terminator films is mainly men who want to imagine themselves as unstoppable robot killing machines pretty much lead to the film bombing at the box office. The lesson to be learned here is that NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO VIRTUE SIGNAL HOW GENDER-PROGRESSIVE IT IS EVERY FIVE MINUTES. Of course, media comentator types have been groping for literally any other reason the film might have failed miserably, but it’s a losing battle: I’m pretty sure even that one with Christian Bale made money, and that was bloody terrible. No disrespect to Dark Fate director Tim Miller, though: he needs to do something with his time in between Deadpool films and it might as well be going from ailing franchise to ailing franchise, putting them out of their misery like an endless succession of Old Yellers.

The Andrea Dworkins Dancing Naked On a Plinth Award for Best Actually Good Woke Movie... ... Goes to The Perfection (spoilers ahead), a film about two classical musician ladies taking a brutal and harrowing revenge on the misogynistic, overprivileged man who destroyed their lives. Easily one of the best films to emerge in 2019, it’s one of only two films I’ve ever described as ‘transcendent’ (unironically). The Perfection is shocking, brutal and feminist in a way that suggests that the writer might actually know what feminism is and what movie writing is- which makes it pretty much unique in the current era of self-consciously progressive films.

The Most Needlessly Elongated Process Award... ... Goes to the impeachment of Obvious Criminal Donald Trump, which is still going on at the time of writing. He worked with hostile foreign powers in order to cheat in his election, he’s boasted about sexually abusing women and he’s the most singularly incompentent, dangerous imbecile in the history of American politics. Just fucking arrest the guy already. How long does it take to get one flatulent old crook into a prison cell? Has he fucking superglued his feet to the floor of the white house or something? HURRY THE FUCK UP!

The Most Painfully Ironic Celebrity Death Award... ... Goes to Carroll Spinney, who gave movement and life the Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch puppets on Sesame Street then died of a degenerative, neurological movement disorder that slowly robbed him of the ability to move his own body. There’s not a lot I can do to make that funny, other than point out the bizarre irony of that coincidence. As far as I’m aware, he was a lovely man who brought joy to thousands of children and dim adults. Definitely worth raising a glass to this New Year’s Eve. It’s just sad for him that he died in a bleakly funny way and therefore ended up in my end-of-year roundup. What a way to finish a rich and fulfilling career. Poor bloke.

The Special ‘Band of the Year’ Award... Goes to The Orion Experience, who actually disbanded quite some time before 2019. However, I only discovered them this year, so I’m giving them the shoutout they so richly deserved, several years ago... when it might have helped. They’re great: a camp, New Romantic sound combined with clever lyrics and deliciously inventive song concepts make them one of the best modern bands I’ve ever had the good fortune to stumble across.

The ‘Chrissy Metz Goes on a Diet’ Award For Worst Thing to Have Happened to an Unsuspecting Planet... ... Goes to Hellboy (2019), which came out at the start of the year and set a high-sewage mark for general awfullness. It was a bafflingly, determinedly bad film in which characters simply stated their feelings rather than emoting, musical cues were misdeployed and wasted and the plot meandered from one bloated set-piece to another without ever feeling big or meaningful. To describe it as a shit-burg floating in a sea of lukewarm cum would be to insult shit and cum. I’ve had eight months and I still can’t get over how bad it is.

The Hellboy 2019 Award for Second Worst Thing to Have Happened to Unsuspecting Planet... ... Goes to Chrissy Metz’ diet. Yeah. She went on a diet. She’s shrunk. Don’t google it: it looks exactly as pathetic, miserable and depresing as you’d expect- another plus-size celebrity knuckling under to the pressure to lose weight and not even being good at it. If I’m ever famous, remind to use my position to elevate some actual motherfucking feedees to the status of cultural icons, just so we get some fat celebrities who actually stay fat.

The Arnold Rimmer Award for most Gratuitous Act of Cowardice... ... Goes to Prime Minister Boris “My Second Name Means Penis” Johnson, who, in the run-up to the election chose to hide in a fridge rather than be interviewed by Piers Morgan. This is particularly funny because Piers Morgan is a toothless, name-dropping suck-up who doubtless would have given the Prime Minister an easy ride while making big, goopy heart-eyes at him and fantasising about how he’ll be able to boast to his friends that he’s met BoJo, the Amazing Guffing Head of State. Maybe Johnson just correctly surmised that if he was in the same room as Morgan, the Craven Bullshit Density (or CBD) would be so high that the universe would implode.

The Dianne Abbot Award For Sexiest Older Black Lady in a Serious Cultural Product... ... Goes to Octavia Spencer, who played Psycho-Cougar Sue Ann in the psychological horror film Ma and who did a great turn as a emotionally manipulative, possesive, terrifying and yet strangely sympathetic borderline sociopath... whom I would definitely have had sex with, given half a chance.

The UK Postal Service Award for Most Delayed Cultural Event.. ... Goes to the arrival of Rick and Morty Series 4, which finally arrived on screens after years trapped in a nightmarish labarynth of production issues, rights negotiations and (admittedly justified) showrunner perfectionism. I haven’t seen it yet, since there’s a very good chance that 2020 will be a barren wasteland in terms of televsion and I want to make sure I have at least one good thing to binge-watch during the early months of the year. However, I’ll give you my hot-take when I do get round to viewing it.

The Brian Cox’ Strip Tease Award for Loveliest Thing to Happen in 2019... ... Goes to TV magician Justin Willman, who, towards the end of this year, gifted the world with a second series of Magic For Humans, probably one of the funniest and most inherently well-meaning street magic telly series ever invented. Speaking as a magician, I have to say it’s nice to represented in the world of televsion by a warm-yet-snarky gad-about rather than pretentious mumbling toss-mage David Blaine.

The Special Award for Most Confusing and Alarming Year of the Decade... ... Goes to 2019 itself, which offered political hope only to snatch it away; produced some amazing films while continuing to shit out virtue-signalling dreck at the same time; and generally massaged us with one hand while slapping us with the other. In many ways, it was a year that refelected human nature itself. Earlier this year, angry arsehole commuters beat the crap out of Extinction Rebellion protestors who were trying to raise awareness of our planent’s ongoing ecological crisis from the roof of a London Underground train. And that about sums up the dichotomy of the human race for me: enlightenment and knowledge climbing high in the hope of broadcasting its message, only to be dragged down by an endless ocean or irredemable thick cunts who’d rather be complicit in the slow death of civilisation than be five minutes late for a job they don’t fucking like. And that’s why 2019 gets a booby prize: it was a year that embodied the brief rise of brilliance from a sea of grime while reminding us of how little that actually helps. Cheers!

So that’s it for 2019. The death of culture, political acumin and possibly the human race continues, though with the occasional high-point thrown in just to keep things interesting. I’ll see you bastards when it’s when it’s time for my New Year’s Resolutions Blog. Sorry that turned a bit bleak at the end, but in fairness, that only happened because I live in a terrible country during a terrible time in history.

Why tech CEOs are in love with doomsayers

Latest Updates - M. N. & Associates - By Nellie BowlesFuturist philosopher Yuval Noah Harari worries about a lot.He worries that Silicon Valley is undermining democracy and ushering in a dystopian hellscape in which voting is obsolete.He worries that by creating powerful influence machines to control billions of minds, the big tech companies are destroying the idea of a sovereign individual with free will.He worries that because the technological revolution’s work requires so few laborers, Silicon Valley is creating a tiny ruling class and a teeming, furious “useless class.”But lately, Harari is anxious about something much more personal. If this is his harrowing warning, then why do Silicon Valley CEOs love him so?“One possibility is that my message is not threatening to them, and so they embrace it?” a puzzled Harari said one afternoon in October. “For me, that’s more worrying. Maybe I’m missing something?”When Harari toured the Bay Area this fall to promote his latest book, the reception was incongruously joyful. Reed Hastings, chief executive of Netflix, threw him a dinner party. The leaders of X, Alphabet’s secretive research division, invited Harari over. Bill Gates reviewed the book (“Fascinating” and “such a stimulating writer”) in The New York Times.“I’m interested in how Silicon Valley can be so infatuated with Yuval, which they are — it’s insane he’s so popular, they’re all inviting him to campus — yet what Yuval is saying undermines the premise of the advertising- and engagement-based model of their products,” said Tristan Harris, Google’s former in-house design ethicist and a co-founder of the Center for Humane Technology.Part of the reason might be that Silicon Valley, at a certain level, is not optimistic on the future of democracy. The more of a mess Washington becomes, the more interested the tech world is in creating something else, and it might not look like elected representation. Rank-and-file coders have long been wary of regulation and curious about alternative forms of government. A separatist streak runs through the place: Venture capitalists periodically call for California to secede or shatter, or for the creation of corporate nation-states. And this summer, Mark Zuckerberg, who has recommended Harari to his book club, acknowledged a fixation with the autocrat Caesar Augustus. “Basically,” Zuckerberg told The New Yorker, “through a really harsh approach, he established 200 years of world peace.”Harari, thinking about all this, puts it this way: “Utopia and dystopia depends on your values.”Harari, who has a Ph.D. from Oxford, is a 42-year-old Israeli philosopher and a history professor at Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The story of his current fame begins in 2011, when he published a book of notable ambition: to survey the whole of human existence. “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind,” first released in Hebrew, did not break new ground in terms of historical research. Nor did its premise — that humans are animals and our dominance is an accident — seem a likely commercial hit. But the casual tone and smooth way Harari tied together knowledge across fields made it a deeply pleasing read, even as the tome ended on the notion that the process of human evolution might be over. Translated into English in 2014, the book went on to sell more than 8 million copies and made Harari a celebrity intellectual.He followed up with “Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow,” which outlined his vision of what comes after human evolution. In it, he describes Dataism, a new faith based around the power of algorithms. Harari’s future is one in which big data is worshipped, artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence, and some humans develop Godlike abilities.Now, he has written a book about the present and how it could lead to that future: “21 Lessons for the 21st Century.” It is meant to be read as a series of warnings. His recent TED Talk was called “Why fascism is so tempting — and how your data could power it.”His prophecies might have made him a Cassandra in Silicon Valley, or at the very least an unwelcome presence. Instead, he has had to reconcile himself to the locals’ strange delight. “If you make people start thinking far more deeply and seriously about these issues,” he told me, sounding weary, “some of the things they will think about might not be what you want them to think about.”‘Brave New World’ as Aspirational ReadingHarari agreed to let me tag along for a few days on his travels through the Valley, and one afternoon in September, I waited for him outside X’s offices, in Mountain View, while he spoke to the Alphabet employees inside. After a while, he emerged: a shy, thin, bespectacled man with a dusting of dark hair. Harari has a sort of owlish demeanor, in that he looks wise and also does not move his body very much, even while glancing to the side. His face is not particularly expressive, with the exception of one rogue eyebrow. When you catch his eye, there is a wary look — like he wants to know if you, too, understand exactly how bad the world is about to get.At the Alphabet talk, Harari had been accompanied by his publisher. They said the younger employees had expressed concern about whether their work was contributing to a less-free society, while the executives generally thought their impact was positive.Some workers had tried to predict how well humans would adapt to large technological change based on how they have responded to small shifts, like a new version of Gmail. Harari told them to think more starkly: If there isn’t a major policy intervention, most humans probably will not adapt at all.It made him sad, he told me, to see people build things that destroy their own societies, but he works every day to maintain an academic distance and remind himself that humans are just animals. “Part of it is really coming from seeing humans as apes, that this is how they behave,” he said, adding, “They’re chimpanzees. They’re sapiens. This is what they do.”He was slouching a little. Socializing exhausts him.As we boarded the black gull-wing Tesla Harari had rented for his visit, he brought up Aldous Huxley. Generations have been horrified by his novel “Brave New World,” which depicts a regime of emotion control and painless consumption. Readers who encounter the book today, Harari said, often think it sounds great. “Everything is so nice, and in that way it is an intellectually disturbing book because you’re really hard-pressed to explain what’s wrong with it,” he said. “And you do get today a vision coming out of some people in Silicon Valley which goes in that direction.”An Alphabet media relations manager later reached out to Harari’s team to tell him to tell me that the visit to X was not allowed to be part of this story. The request confused and then amused Harari. It is interesting, he said, that unlike politicians, tech companies do not need a free press, since they already control the means of message distribution.He said he had resigned himself to tech executives’ global reign, pointing out how much worse the politicians are. “I’ve met a number of these high-tech giants, and generally they’re good people,” he said. “They’re not Attila the Hun. In the lottery of human leaders, you could get far worse.”Some of his tech fans, he thinks, come to him out of anxiety. “Some may be very frightened of the impact of what they are doing,” Harari said.Still, their enthusiastic embrace of his work makes him uncomfortable. “It’s just a rule of thumb in history that if you are so much coddled by the elites it must mean that you don’t want to frighten them,” Harari said. “They can absorb you. You can become the intellectual entertainment.”Dinner, With a Side of Medically Engineered ImmortalityCEO testimonials to Harari’s acumen are indeed not hard to come by. “I’m drawn to Yuval for his clarity of thought,” Jack Dorsey, the head of Twitter and Square, wrote in an email, going on to praise a particular chapter on meditation.And Hastings wrote: “Yuval’s the anti-Silicon Valley persona — he doesn’t carry a phone and he spends a lot of time contemplating while off the grid. We see in him who we wish we were.” He added, “His thinking on AI and biotech in his new book pushes our understanding of the dramas to unfold.”At the dinner Hastings co-hosted, academics and industry leaders debated the dangers of data collection, and to what degree longevity therapies will extend the human life span. (Harari has written that the ruling class will vastly outlive the useless.) “That evening was small, but could be magnified to symbolize his impact in the heart of Silicon Valley,” said Fei-Fei Li, an artificial intelligence expert who pushed internally at Google to keep secret the company’s efforts to process military drone footage for the Pentagon. “His book has that ability to bring these people together at a table, and that is his contribution.”A few nights earlier, Harari spoke to a sold-out theater of 3,500 in San Francisco. One ticket-holder walking in, an older man, told me it was brave and honest for Harari to use the term “useless class.”The author was paired for discussion with the prolific intellectual Sam Harris, who strode onstage in a gray suit and well-starched white button-down. Harari was less at ease, in a loose suit that crumpled around him, his hands clasped in his lap as he sat deep in his chair. But as he spoke about meditation — Harari spends two hours each day and two months each year in silence — he became commanding. In a region where self-optimization is paramount and meditation is a competitive sport, Harari’s devotion confers hero status.He told the audience that free will is an illusion, and that human rights are just a story we tell ourselves. Political parties, he said, might not make sense anymore. He went on to argue that the liberal world order has relied on fictions like “the customer is always right” and “follow your heart,” and that these ideas no longer work in the age of artificial intelligence, when hearts can be manipulated at scale.Everyone in Silicon Valley is focused on building the future, Harari continued, while most of the world’s people are not even needed enough to be exploited. “Now you increasingly feel that there are all these elites that just don’t need me,” he said. “And it’s much worse to be irrelevant than to be exploited.”The useless class he describes is uniquely vulnerable. “If a century ago you mounted a revolution against exploitation, you knew that when bad comes to worse, they can’t shoot all of us because they need us,” he said, citing army service and factory work.Now it is becoming less clear why the ruling elite would not just kill the new useless class. “You’re totally expendable,” he told the audience.This, Harari told me later, is why Silicon Valley is so excited about the concept of universal basic income, or stipends paid to people regardless of whether they work. The message is: “We don’t need you. But we are nice, so we’ll take care of you.”On Sept. 14, he published an essay in The Guardian assailing another old trope — that “the voter knows best.”“If humans are hackable animals, and if our choices and opinions don’t reflect our free will, what should the point of politics be?” he wrote. “How do you live when you realize ... that your heart might be a government agent, that your amygdala might be working for Putin, and that the next thought that emerges in your mind might well be the result of some algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself? These are the most interesting questions humanity now faces.”‘OK, So Maybe Humankind Is Going to Disappear’Harari and his husband, Itzik Yahav, who is also his manager, rented a small house in Mountain View for their visit, and one morning I found them there making oatmeal. Harari observed that as his celebrity in Silicon Valley has risen, tech fans have focused on his lifestyle.“Silicon Valley was already kind of a hotbed for meditation and yoga and all these things,” he said. “And one of the things that made me kind of more popular and palatable is that I also have this bedrock.” He was wearing an old sweatshirt and denim track pants. His voice was quiet, but he gestured widely, waving his hands, hitting a jar of spatulas.Harari grew up in Kiryat Ata, near Haifa, and his father worked in the arms industry. His mother, who worked in office administration, now volunteers for her son handling his mail; he gets about 1,000 messages a week. Yahav’s mother is their accountant.Most days, Harari doesn’t use an alarm clock, and wakes up between 6:30 and 8:30 a.m., then meditates and has a cup of tea. He works until 4 or 5 p.m., then does another hour of meditation, followed by an hourlong walk, maybe a swim, and then TV with Yahav.The two met 16 years ago through the dating site Check Me Out. “We are not big believers in falling in love,” Harari said. “It was more a rational choice.”“We met each other and we thought, ‘OK, we’re — OK, let’s move in with each other,’ ” Yahav said.Yahav became Harari’s manager. During the period when English-language publishers were cool on the commercial viability of “Sapiens” — thinking it too serious for the average reader and not serious enough for the scholars — Yahav persisted, eventually landing the Jerusalem-based agent Deborah Harris. One day when Harari was away meditating, Yahav and Harris finally sold it at auction to Random House in London.Today, they have a team of eight based in Tel Aviv working on Harari’s projects. Director Ridley Scott and documentarian Asif Kapadia are adapting “Sapiens” into a TV show, and Harari is working on children’s books to reach a broader audience.Yahav used to meditate, but has recently stopped. “It was too hectic,” he said while folding laundry. “I couldn’t get this kind of huge success and a regular practice.” Harari remains dedicated.“If it were only up to him, he would be a monk in a cave, writing things and never getting his hair cut,” Yahav said, looking at his husband. “Can I tell that story?”Harari said no.“On our first meeting,” Yahav said, “he had cut his hair by himself. And it was a very bad job.”The couple are vegan, and Harari is particularly sensitive to animals. He identified the sweatshirt he was wearing as one he got just before one of his dogs died. Yahav cut in to ask if he could tell another story; Harari seemed to know exactly what he meant, and said absolutely not.“In the middle of the night,” Yahav said, “when there is a mosquito, he will catch him and take him out.”Being gay, Harari said, has helped his work — it set him apart to study culture more clearly because it made him question the dominant stories of his own conservative Jewish society. “If society got this thing wrong, who guarantees it didn’t get everything else wrong as well?” he said.“If I was a superhuman, my superpower would be detachment,” Harari added. “OK, so maybe humankind is going to disappear — OK, let’s just observe.”For fun, the couple watches TV. It is their primary hobby and topic of conversation, and Yahav said it was the only thing from which Harari is not detached.They just finished “Dear White People,” and they loved the Australian series “Please Like Me.” That night, they had plans to either meet Facebook executives at company headquarters or watch the YouTube show “Cobra Kai.”Harari left Silicon Valley the next weekend. Soon, in December, he will enter an ashram outside Mumbai, India, for another 60 days of silence. Chartered Accountant For consultng. Contact Us: http://bit.ly/bombay-ca

By Nellie BowlesFuturist philosopher Yuval Noah Harari worries about a lot.He worries that Silicon Valley is undermining democracy and ushering in a dystopian hellscape in which voting is obsolete.He worries that by creating powerful influence machines to control billions of minds, the big tech companies are destroying the idea of a sovereign individual with free will.He worries that because the technological revolution’s work requires so few laborers, Silicon Valley is creating a tiny ruling class and a teeming, furious “useless class.”But lately, Harari is anxious about something much more personal. If this is his harrowing warning, then why do Silicon Valley CEOs love him so?“One possibility is that my message is not threatening to them, and so they embrace it?” a puzzled Harari said one afternoon in October. “For me, that’s more worrying. Maybe I’m missing something?”When Harari toured the Bay Area this fall to promote his latest book, the reception was incongruously joyful. Reed Hastings, chief executive of Netflix, threw him a dinner party. The leaders of X, Alphabet’s secretive research division, invited Harari over. Bill Gates reviewed the book (“Fascinating” and “such a stimulating writer”) in The New York Times.“I’m interested in how Silicon Valley can be so infatuated with Yuval, which they are — it’s insane he’s so popular, they’re all inviting him to campus — yet what Yuval is saying undermines the premise of the advertising- and engagement-based model of their products,” said Tristan Harris, Google’s former in-house design ethicist and a co-founder of the Center for Humane Technology.Part of the reason might be that Silicon Valley, at a certain level, is not optimistic on the future of democracy. The more of a mess Washington becomes, the more interested the tech world is in creating something else, and it might not look like elected representation. Rank-and-file coders have long been wary of regulation and curious about alternative forms of government. A separatist streak runs through the place: Venture capitalists periodically call for California to secede or shatter, or for the creation of corporate nation-states. And this summer, Mark Zuckerberg, who has recommended Harari to his book club, acknowledged a fixation with the autocrat Caesar Augustus. “Basically,” Zuckerberg told The New Yorker, “through a really harsh approach, he established 200 years of world peace.”Harari, thinking about all this, puts it this way: “Utopia and dystopia depends on your values.”Harari, who has a Ph.D. from Oxford, is a 42-year-old Israeli philosopher and a history professor at Hebrew University of Jerusalem. The story of his current fame begins in 2011, when he published a book of notable ambition: to survey the whole of human existence. “Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind,” first released in Hebrew, did not break new ground in terms of historical research. Nor did its premise — that humans are animals and our dominance is an accident — seem a likely commercial hit. But the casual tone and smooth way Harari tied together knowledge across fields made it a deeply pleasing read, even as the tome ended on the notion that the process of human evolution might be over. Translated into English in 2014, the book went on to sell more than 8 million copies and made Harari a celebrity intellectual.He followed up with “Homo Deus: A Brief History of Tomorrow,” which outlined his vision of what comes after human evolution. In it, he describes Dataism, a new faith based around the power of algorithms. Harari’s future is one in which big data is worshipped, artificial intelligence surpasses human intelligence, and some humans develop Godlike abilities.Now, he has written a book about the present and how it could lead to that future: “21 Lessons for the 21st Century.” It is meant to be read as a series of warnings. His recent TED Talk was called “Why fascism is so tempting — and how your data could power it.”His prophecies might have made him a Cassandra in Silicon Valley, or at the very least an unwelcome presence. Instead, he has had to reconcile himself to the locals’ strange delight. “If you make people start thinking far more deeply and seriously about these issues,” he told me, sounding weary, “some of the things they will think about might not be what you want them to think about.”‘Brave New World’ as Aspirational ReadingHarari agreed to let me tag along for a few days on his travels through the Valley, and one afternoon in September, I waited for him outside X’s offices, in Mountain View, while he spoke to the Alphabet employees inside. After a while, he emerged: a shy, thin, bespectacled man with a dusting of dark hair. Harari has a sort of owlish demeanor, in that he looks wise and also does not move his body very much, even while glancing to the side. His face is not particularly expressive, with the exception of one rogue eyebrow. When you catch his eye, there is a wary look — like he wants to know if you, too, understand exactly how bad the world is about to get.At the Alphabet talk, Harari had been accompanied by his publisher. They said the younger employees had expressed concern about whether their work was contributing to a less-free society, while the executives generally thought their impact was positive.Some workers had tried to predict how well humans would adapt to large technological change based on how they have responded to small shifts, like a new version of Gmail. Harari told them to think more starkly: If there isn’t a major policy intervention, most humans probably will not adapt at all.It made him sad, he told me, to see people build things that destroy their own societies, but he works every day to maintain an academic distance and remind himself that humans are just animals. “Part of it is really coming from seeing humans as apes, that this is how they behave,” he said, adding, “They’re chimpanzees. They’re sapiens. This is what they do.”He was slouching a little. Socializing exhausts him.As we boarded the black gull-wing Tesla Harari had rented for his visit, he brought up Aldous Huxley. Generations have been horrified by his novel “Brave New World,” which depicts a regime of emotion control and painless consumption. Readers who encounter the book today, Harari said, often think it sounds great. “Everything is so nice, and in that way it is an intellectually disturbing book because you’re really hard-pressed to explain what’s wrong with it,” he said. “And you do get today a vision coming out of some people in Silicon Valley which goes in that direction.”An Alphabet media relations manager later reached out to Harari’s team to tell him to tell me that the visit to X was not allowed to be part of this story. The request confused and then amused Harari. It is interesting, he said, that unlike politicians, tech companies do not need a free press, since they already control the means of message distribution.He said he had resigned himself to tech executives’ global reign, pointing out how much worse the politicians are. “I’ve met a number of these high-tech giants, and generally they’re good people,” he said. “They’re not Attila the Hun. In the lottery of human leaders, you could get far worse.”Some of his tech fans, he thinks, come to him out of anxiety. “Some may be very frightened of the impact of what they are doing,” Harari said.Still, their enthusiastic embrace of his work makes him uncomfortable. “It’s just a rule of thumb in history that if you are so much coddled by the elites it must mean that you don’t want to frighten them,” Harari said. “They can absorb you. You can become the intellectual entertainment.”Dinner, With a Side of Medically Engineered ImmortalityCEO testimonials to Harari’s acumen are indeed not hard to come by. “I’m drawn to Yuval for his clarity of thought,” Jack Dorsey, the head of Twitter and Square, wrote in an email, going on to praise a particular chapter on meditation.And Hastings wrote: “Yuval’s the anti-Silicon Valley persona — he doesn’t carry a phone and he spends a lot of time contemplating while off the grid. We see in him who we wish we were.” He added, “His thinking on AI and biotech in his new book pushes our understanding of the dramas to unfold.”At the dinner Hastings co-hosted, academics and industry leaders debated the dangers of data collection, and to what degree longevity therapies will extend the human life span. (Harari has written that the ruling class will vastly outlive the useless.) “That evening was small, but could be magnified to symbolize his impact in the heart of Silicon Valley,” said Fei-Fei Li, an artificial intelligence expert who pushed internally at Google to keep secret the company’s efforts to process military drone footage for the Pentagon. “His book has that ability to bring these people together at a table, and that is his contribution.”A few nights earlier, Harari spoke to a sold-out theater of 3,500 in San Francisco. One ticket-holder walking in, an older man, told me it was brave and honest for Harari to use the term “useless class.”The author was paired for discussion with the prolific intellectual Sam Harris, who strode onstage in a gray suit and well-starched white button-down. Harari was less at ease, in a loose suit that crumpled around him, his hands clasped in his lap as he sat deep in his chair. But as he spoke about meditation — Harari spends two hours each day and two months each year in silence — he became commanding. In a region where self-optimization is paramount and meditation is a competitive sport, Harari’s devotion confers hero status.He told the audience that free will is an illusion, and that human rights are just a story we tell ourselves. Political parties, he said, might not make sense anymore. He went on to argue that the liberal world order has relied on fictions like “the customer is always right” and “follow your heart,” and that these ideas no longer work in the age of artificial intelligence, when hearts can be manipulated at scale.Everyone in Silicon Valley is focused on building the future, Harari continued, while most of the world’s people are not even needed enough to be exploited. “Now you increasingly feel that there are all these elites that just don’t need me,” he said. “And it’s much worse to be irrelevant than to be exploited.”The useless class he describes is uniquely vulnerable. “If a century ago you mounted a revolution against exploitation, you knew that when bad comes to worse, they can’t shoot all of us because they need us,” he said, citing army service and factory work.Now it is becoming less clear why the ruling elite would not just kill the new useless class. “You’re totally expendable,” he told the audience.This, Harari told me later, is why Silicon Valley is so excited about the concept of universal basic income, or stipends paid to people regardless of whether they work. The message is: “We don’t need you. But we are nice, so we’ll take care of you.”On Sept. 14, he published an essay in The Guardian assailing another old trope — that “the voter knows best.”“If humans are hackable animals, and if our choices and opinions don’t reflect our free will, what should the point of politics be?” he wrote. “How do you live when you realize ... that your heart might be a government agent, that your amygdala might be working for Putin, and that the next thought that emerges in your mind might well be the result of some algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself? These are the most interesting questions humanity now faces.”‘OK, So Maybe Humankind Is Going to Disappear’Harari and his husband, Itzik Yahav, who is also his manager, rented a small house in Mountain View for their visit, and one morning I found them there making oatmeal. Harari observed that as his celebrity in Silicon Valley has risen, tech fans have focused on his lifestyle.“Silicon Valley was already kind of a hotbed for meditation and yoga and all these things,” he said. “And one of the things that made me kind of more popular and palatable is that I also have this bedrock.” He was wearing an old sweatshirt and denim track pants. His voice was quiet, but he gestured widely, waving his hands, hitting a jar of spatulas.Harari grew up in Kiryat Ata, near Haifa, and his father worked in the arms industry. His mother, who worked in office administration, now volunteers for her son handling his mail; he gets about 1,000 messages a week. Yahav’s mother is their accountant.Most days, Harari doesn’t use an alarm clock, and wakes up between 6:30 and 8:30 a.m., then meditates and has a cup of tea. He works until 4 or 5 p.m., then does another hour of meditation, followed by an hourlong walk, maybe a swim, and then TV with Yahav.The two met 16 years ago through the dating site Check Me Out. “We are not big believers in falling in love,” Harari said. “It was more a rational choice.”“We met each other and we thought, ‘OK, we’re — OK, let’s move in with each other,’ ” Yahav said.Yahav became Harari’s manager. During the period when English-language publishers were cool on the commercial viability of “Sapiens” — thinking it too serious for the average reader and not serious enough for the scholars — Yahav persisted, eventually landing the Jerusalem-based agent Deborah Harris. One day when Harari was away meditating, Yahav and Harris finally sold it at auction to Random House in London.Today, they have a team of eight based in Tel Aviv working on Harari’s projects. Director Ridley Scott and documentarian Asif Kapadia are adapting “Sapiens” into a TV show, and Harari is working on children’s books to reach a broader audience.Yahav used to meditate, but has recently stopped. “It was too hectic,” he said while folding laundry. “I couldn’t get this kind of huge success and a regular practice.” Harari remains dedicated.“If it were only up to him, he would be a monk in a cave, writing things and never getting his hair cut,” Yahav said, looking at his husband. “Can I tell that story?”Harari said no.“On our first meeting,” Yahav said, “he had cut his hair by himself. And it was a very bad job.”The couple are vegan, and Harari is particularly sensitive to animals. He identified the sweatshirt he was wearing as one he got just before one of his dogs died. Yahav cut in to ask if he could tell another story; Harari seemed to know exactly what he meant, and said absolutely not.“In the middle of the night,” Yahav said, “when there is a mosquito, he will catch him and take him out.”Being gay, Harari said, has helped his work — it set him apart to study culture more clearly because it made him question the dominant stories of his own conservative Jewish society. “If society got this thing wrong, who guarantees it didn’t get everything else wrong as well?” he said.“If I was a superhuman, my superpower would be detachment,” Harari added. “OK, so maybe humankind is going to disappear — OK, let’s just observe.”For fun, the couple watches TV. It is their primary hobby and topic of conversation, and Yahav said it was the only thing from which Harari is not detached.They just finished “Dear White People,” and they loved the Australian series “Please Like Me.” That night, they had plans to either meet Facebook executives at company headquarters or watch the YouTube show “Cobra Kai.”Harari left Silicon Valley the next weekend. Soon, in December, he will enter an ashram outside Mumbai, India, for another 60 days of silence. from Economic Times https://ift.tt/2z4MbsC

THE BASICS

FULL NAME: Fallon Elle St James. NICKNAMES: Proper ones? Just Fall, but I’ve been called a lot other things. AGE: 22. CURRENT OCCUPATION: I’m a bartender, stop judging. FUTURE ASPIRATION: Right now, it’s just to get out of Gradian.

THE AESTHETIC

EYE COLOUR: Hazel. HAIR COLOUR: Strawberry blonde; yes, that is a colour. SKIN TONE: Pale; it’s the only accurate description. HEIGHT: 5′3″ hence the love of heels. WEIGHT: 117lbs. SCARS: Apart from mental ones? Just kidding, of course not. BIRTHMARK: There’s a small brown mark on my left hip, but it’s always covered; very few people know it’s there. Well, only a few in Gradian, lets ignore the number in London. NAILS: Painted. The colour varies. TATTOOS: Tattoos aren’t my thing. PIERCINGS: Neither are piercings. CLOTHES: An almost endless wardrobe full. I revolve mostly around skirts, occasionally jeans if the situation calls but that’s a rare occurrence. ACCESSORIES: A silver necklace with a small charm on it. It was a graduation gift from my parents, though they probably wish they could take it back now. HAIRSTYLE(S): It’s usually down, occasionally in a braid for work. You don’t mess with something that looks this good.

THE PERSONA

WHAT IS YOUR BEST TRAIT?: I’m confident. It’s the best thing you can be. WHAT IS YOUR WORST TRAIT?: I speak my mind. I don’t think that’s bad, but others seem to. Or that I’m terrible with emotions, you choose. WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY MORE THAN ANYTHING?: Success. DO YOU ENJOY PHYSICAL DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION?: No, I see far too much of that in the bar. ARE YOU AN OPTIMIST, PESSIMIST, OR REALIST?: Realist, prevents disappointments. ARE YOU COMPETITIVE?: If anyone says no, they’re lying; it’s natural. DO YOU MAKE DECISIONS QUICKLY, OR CONSIDER IT FIRST?: Depends on the decision. It’s more common for me to consider it, but my list of one night stands would suggest otherwise. INDOORS OR OUTDOORS?: Outdoors, as long as it’s not camping. DAY OR NIGHT?: I’m more of a night owl. It goes better with the job. MORNING, AFTERNOON OR EVENING?: Evening, when I’m not working. SAVOURY OR SWEET?: Sweet. FAVOURITE BREAKFAST FOOD?: Pancakes.

THE FAVOURITES

SLANG: Slang is the language of idiots, no thanks. HOBBIES: I used to dance. Now, I don’t do much. It’s quite sad now I think about it. BOOK: Ever read Dark Places by Gillian Flynn? You should. WRITER: Charlotte Brontë has a way of writing that’s empowering. BOOK GENRE: I love a good thriller. SONG: Maroon 5′s This Love. I’ve loved that song for years. ARTIST: Is it cliché of me to say Taylor Swift? Everyone loves a good break up anthem. ALBUM: Adele’s 21. MUSIC GENRE: It varies. MOVIE: Dirty Dancing. DIRECTOR: I don’t have one? MOVIE GENRE: Again, I don’t really have one. POEM: What Do Women Want - Kim Addonizio. ART PIECE: The Starry Night. ARTIST: Van Gogh, accordingly. QUOTE: “There is more to sex appeal than just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much sex appeal, picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain.” SMELL: Vanilla. It’s classic. PLACE: It would be wrong for me not to say London. There’s no place like home, right? FOOD: Apples. Sounds strange, I know. DRINK: Cranberry juice. It’s just as good on it’s own as it is with alcohol. ANIMAL: Any form of feline. COLOUR: Purple. FLOWER: White roses.

THE HOME LIFE

WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENTS LIKE?: Excellent. It’s better than my bothers’ that’s for sure. This apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Not that that’s necessarily a good thing. I lost all control of my life. It’s not fun, especially when you graduate and have no clue what to do with your life. Do you know what it’s like to be the ‘golden child’ and then disappoint? The constant condescension is unbearable. DESCRIBE YOUR BEDROOM: Organised DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?: I wish. DO YOU KEEP A DIARY?: I’m not 12. DO YOU HAVE A MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?: The graduation necklace I mentioned earlier.

THE PAST

WHAT WERE YOU LIKE AS A CHILD?: Amazing, not much different from now. Impressionable; my parents knew that. WHAT WERE YOUR HOBBIES?: I loved dance. WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP?: A ballerina. Stupid, I know. DID YOU HAVE AN IMAGINARY FRIEND?: Hell no. No sane parent would allow that kind of crazy. WHO WAS YOUR FIRST CRUSH?: The best friend of one of my brothers. I never told them, so keep it to yourself. WHAT’S YOUR BEST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?: Family holidays, just being somewhere different was fun. My parents were distracted then. WHAT’S YOUR WORST CHILDHOOD MEMORY?: I don’t have one, I had an amazing childhood. WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE YOUR YOUNGER SELF?: Grow up.

THE FUTURE

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO IN THE FUTURE?: Like I said before, get out of Gradian and go somewhere more exciting. If you’re talking about life goals, I’d rather not answer. I’ve graduated, now what? WHERE DO YOU WANT TO LIVE?: Somewhere exciting. DO YOU WANT A FAMILY?: Maybe, as long as I don’t end up like my parents.

THE CONFLICTS

HOW DO YOU REACT TO POTENTIAL CONFLICT?: People have told me I tend to antagonise, I prefer see it as pointing out stupidity. ARE YOU EASILY ANGERED?: Not particularly. WHAT IS YOUR ONE BIGGEST WEAKNESS?: I’ll let you know when I find one. Emotions, family, the future. Shall I go on? WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?: Failure. Isn’t everyone? HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT STRANGERS?: Indifferent, as long as they don’t bother me. WHAT DO YOU LOVE TO HATE?: My brothers, sometimes. DO YOU SEEK CONFLICT, OR SEEK PEACE?: I don’t seek either, conflict just seems to be attracted to me. WHAT WOULD BE YOUR WEAPON OF CHOICE?: Words, obviously. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN BULLIED OR TEASED?: I would never let that happen.

THE DAY-TO-DAY LIFE

WHAT ARE YOUR EATING HABITS LIKE?: Healthy, thanks for asking. DO YOU HAVE ANY ALLERGIES?: Nope. I have good biology. ARE YOU ORGANISED OR MESSY?: Organised. DO YOU PLAN THINGS OR ARE YOU SPONTANEOUS?: I like to think a bit of both. WHAT’S THE FIRST THING YOU DO WHEN YOU WAKE UP?: Brush my teeth, I avoid morning breath at all costs. If I wake up in someone else’s bed? Leave. WHAT COLOUR IS YOUR TOOTHBRUSH?: Bit weird, but it’s purple and white. DO YOU HAVE AN EVENING ROUTINE?: Of course, but it’d take too long to go through step-by-step.

THE BELIEFS

ARE YOU RELIGIOUS?: Not particularly. DO YOU BELIEVE IN THE AFTERLIFE?: I’d like to, but like I said I’m a realist. DO YOU BELIEVE IN REINCARNATION?: Again, I’m a realist. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE REINCARNATED AS?: If I had to choose, probably a cat. Red-headed cats are cute as heck, but they have claws; I like that. ARE YOU GOING TO HEAVEN OR HELL?: Depends who you ask. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS?: Not at all. HOW WOUD YOU WANT TO DIE?: That’s a morbid question. Despite it being the least exciting option, peacefully.

THE MISC

WHO IS YOUR HERO?: I try not to idolise people. IF THE WORLD WAS ENDING AND YOU COULD ONLY SAVE ONE PERSON, WHO WOULD YOU CHOOSE?: Kade. Who wouldn’t choose their best friend? IF YOU WERE STRANDED ON A DESERT ISLAND, WHAT 3 THINGS WOULD YOU HAVE WITH YOU?: Kade, again. A bed for comfort. Alcohol for fun. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY SUPERPOWER, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE?: Superpowers are idiotic. This isn’t a comic book and I’m not a nerd, but if I had to choose, pyrokinesis sounds fun. DO YOU BELIEVE IN PSYCHICS?: Nope, realist. DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT?: Definitely not. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL THROUGH TIME, WHERE WOULD YOU GO?:That’s a difficult one. Honestly, I’d want to see what my parents childhood was like. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU WON THE LOTTERY?: Get out of here and travel. WHO WILL YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN THIS YEAR?: It’s March, I’m still thinking.