With all of the cheating drama going on recently, I just want to share one thought: There is a very clear, very significant, distinction between husbands that love their wives and husbands that love having a wife.
Men that love their wives will refer to them by their name — they see them as a person first and their person second. Men that only refer to their wife as “my wife” see them as an accomplishment, or a thing to parade around. They love the idea of having a wife, and they think that this translates to “I love my wife.” This is the type of husband that gets ‘distracted’ by another relationship, because he thinks it might serve him better than the one that he already has.
Not all “wife-obsessed” men are bound to ruin their marriages!! You can tell these types of men apart in almost every scenario and we can still appreciate the good ones :)
One of my absolute favorite parts of golden wind is the singularly horrible outfits that the main characters wear, but not just the fact that they're terrible, no no. Sure, they all look like they got dressed with their eyes closed in a boutique for clowns, but the REAL kicker is that they did not always dress in this way??
We see the characters' backstories. We see how they used to look. And almost ALL of them USED TO WEAR NORMAL PEOPLE CLOTHES!!! Why? Why the sudden shift to kitchen sink fashion?? And, of course, there are layers to this, too.
Like. Giorno is his own whole can of worms, concerning exactly what happened between middle and high school. Sure, there's the whole hair color change thing which I refuse to acknowledge the canonical reason behind, but whatever, I can ignore that. Why suddenly decide on that hairstyle? That wardrobe? Especially considering that in every other way he's not exactly the flamboyant, attention-grabbing type... The only explanation I can think of would be, I don't know, he just happens to have a surprisingly eclectic fashion sense and high school was the first time he was able to be on his own away from home to indulge it. First opportunity to show off his individuality and he went whole hog with it, I could see that. Yeah sure you go giogio!! have as many heart shaped boob windows and ladybug brooches as you like
Abbacchio, too. It looks like he mostly dressed normal for his job, but the second he left, he transitioned to his current look? Either that’s just his usual taste or his emotional crisis led him to an emo makeover. Or both. In either case, I suppose that’s valid and I support him. His weird eggshell hat is the only part of his outfit that’s really that out there anyway
But the others??
Narancia. Mista. Fucking Fugo. They all dressed at least mostly normally right up until they joined Passione, at which point they switched on a dime to looking Like That. Sure, some aesthetic preferences seemed to carry over, like Narancia’s boyish style, Fugo’s suit pattern, and Mista’s navel window + crisscross pattern + hat. But they still used to wear, yknow. People clothes. So... Why??? What on EARTH happened???
Strangely enough, Bucciarati looks like he’s ALWAYS dressed Like That. Same hair style, same colors, same patterns... Given how much everyone else’s backstory outfits clashed with their eventual outfit choices, it’s almost weirder to see that Bucciarati clearly has clothing and style preferences that match up from past to present.
So. I can’t help but wonder.
Did... did the others just assume that, since Bucciarati (and maybe also Abbacchio) dressed Like That, that was just The Mafia Style??? The Style Of Clothing That Mafia People Wear???? So, in order to integrate themselves into Passione, they’d have to start dressing Like That too??????
Actually. Given that all the members of La Squadra and Polpo and the boss’s personal guard and the boss himself ALSO dress Like That... fuck, i don’t know, maybe they were right and that IS just The Mafia Style!! The fact it also happens to align with Bucciarati’s/Abbacchio’s/Giorno’s personal fashion sense might just be a coincidence!!! Who knows!!! Who cares!!!
Where do you even go to BUY clothing like that??? Are there special, under-the-counter sections of clothing stores that specially cater to Badcore fashion for mafia members??? Do the designers earn a special commission for designing clothes no sane person would wear that fit as uncomfortably as humanly possible??? Didn't they say at some point that mafia members try to dress inconspicuously to blend in???? RISOTTO IS LITERALLY JUST WEARING A JESTER HAT WHAT KIND OF CIRCUS IS THIS
But yeah so the logistics of part 5′s character designs drive me insane and I love it
Steve sits in his car, parked outside of the Hawkins High theater room as he waits for his begrudgingly favorite group of gremlins to come spilling out of the building and pile into his backseat (and argue about the front seat too) so he can drive them home after their Dorks & Doofuses, or whatever it's called, club.
It, technically, ends at six, but it usually takes them a while to pack up all their shit (and who knew a nerd game could have more equipment than most sports?). Plus they love to linger after to try and weasel hints about future sessions out of their Nerd King or whatever he's called and start strategizing for next time. Steve always tells them not to dawdle, they've got curfews and he's got parents to keep happy, but they never listen.
He glances down at his watch right as the little hands ticks past the three. Any minute now. At least that's what he hopes, anyways.
ABBA's playing through the tape deck, and Steve absentmindedly taps along as the opening bars of Gimme Gimme Gimme fill the car. He hums the tune through the first verse and turns it up just as it starts to gear up for the chorus.
And then, as if on cue, right as that chorus hits, right as Agnetha and Anni-Frid start to ask for their man after midnight, the doors of the theater room go flying open.
And out walks — nay, saunters — the prettiest boy that Steve has ever laid eyes on. Dressed in a tantalizing mix of leather and denim, he's got his head thrown back in a bright, beautiful laugh (loud enough to hear even over the music, and jesus, it sounds even better than the song), his long, wild curls fanning out around his face and shoulders, and the most gorgeous, easy smile pulling at his mouth and baring all of his teeth.
There's not a soul out there, ABBA sings, no one to hear my prayer.
But boy oh boy are they wrong. Steve didn't send out any prayers, but there sure as shit is a soul out there. Traipsing through the Hawkins High parking lot like he owns the place, throwing his arms and hands around in erratic, enthusiastic gestures, walking backwards towards a beat up old van in the back.
And Steve can't look away.
It's almost embarrassing how caught up he gets in staring at this boy, because he doesn't even register the kids trailing out behind him, or how they've finally made it to his car until the doors are wrenched open none too carefully and their raucous bickering bursts through the bubble.
Dustin slides into the front seat and slams the door behind him, and Steve's attention is momentarily stolen from the pretty boy as he slips into the familiar song and dance that is chastising Dustin for his lack of respect for Steve's things and volleying back at the snarky remarks he gets in return.
"Later dweebs!" Interrupts a smooth, lilting voice from outside and every pair of eyes in the car (including Steve's, especially Steve's) snap towards the source. The pretty boy stands in the open door of his van with a broad smirk and a hand stuck up in a sedentary wave.
The kids all chorus their goodbyes and wave back, and Steve — ingloriously, embarrassingly, mortifyingly — gives a wave of his own.
The pretty boy notices, because of course he does, and his grin sharpens. He adds an extra flutter of his fingertips as he meets Steve's eyes directly.
Steve flushes all the way up to his roots and immediately tears his gaze away, drops his hand to the wheel, and clears his throat. "Alright," he says, sounding a bit pinched. "Buckle up shitheads," he adds and hopes that none of the excruciatingly nosy children in his car noticed any of that.
He doesn't even know how to begin explaining any of that to the kids. He doesn't even know how to being explaining any of this to himself.
Steve waits for the sound of three distinct clicks, then shifts the car into drive and eases off of the break. As he heads towards the parking lot exit, Steve spares one last fleeting glance to the pretty boy getting smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror.
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight, take me through the darkness to the break of the day.
The song — which Steve is absolutely going to have stuck in his head for days now, just like a certain boy that will absolutely be stuck in his head for days (and weeks, and months, and—) — fades to it's end, but this? This is only just the beginning.
This is the beginning of Steve Harrington's big huge crush on one Eddie Munson.