back around
To continue loving is the greatest feat of perseverance.
Love is the one thing we always have to give.
Etho will finally reunite with Bdubs, alongside a long, internal struggle, after Bdubs gets back from Double Life. Until then, Etho lives alone, and finally comes to terms with, and accepts, the love he knows he deserves.
(6227 words)
There’s nothing pleasant about respawn.
Etho wakes up in the basement of the monolith and his eyes burn. Around him still lingers the smell of burning hair and charcoal. Joel’s voice rings in his periphery, hoarse and afraid for the very first time. Etho took his time leaving that world, feeling the shape of Joel tug on his sleeve. To remember him in another life. He’s a good guy, a better fighter, desperately loyal. He knows that, at least next time, he might have somebody to trust again. Etho opens his eyes. The world dips and sets him back into bed too fast.
His stomach rolls as he does, onto his hands and knees, coughing up and swallowing down. He sinks to the cool floor, and for a long moment, tries to keep his head from spinning. Wake with the spins, go to bed with the spins. His hands splay out. Wooden slats beneath him. Quiet around him.
When he finally collects himself enough to stand, the first thing he does is stand in the threshold of the bathroom holding the door frame tight with both hands. In the light he can just barely see his bare face, tired but unbruised. It’s a face he hasn’t seen in a while. He tracks his eyes in the mirror and his pupils are big to take in the light. These aren’t the clothes he died in. He washes his face in the sink. He rinses his hands. Twice. Three times. He doesn’t have the patience for a bath, but there’s a fine feeling on his skin—sticky and unclean. Not blood. Sweat.
Etho takes a long breath in, sighs, and stands up straight. Then, and only then, does he try to remember how to be himself again. He pads into the other room, scrubbing sleep from his eyes. He changes his clothes and leaves the old ones in a heap on the bedside. Something about the repetition of changing makes his skin crawl a little less. He changes his socks. He combs back his hair with his fingers.
Time passes differently here. When he makes it to the staircase that should lead up into the rest of the monolith, he checks the calendar, the remnant of one. A few nights will pass until everyone is collected and brought back. A few nights will pass before people realize they don’t have to stay to watch bloodshed. Or when they get bored. And Etho is here, now. No use watching bloodshed. No use watching someone die.
Etho trails up the stairs. He pulls his mask over his face only when he reaches the landing, right before the door. The air is still and cool. The inside of the monolith is still and cool too, but something lingers. The fragments of living—the smell of cooked food, coffee, still lit lanterns. It’s midday; Etho peeks out through one of the windows to see a bright blue sky and a stretch of birch as far as he can see.
He wanders up the stairs with his heart thumping in his chest. It isn’t possible for him to be back so soon. Is it?
He keeps going, tracing up the wall as he walks. There isn’t a noise.
The whole monolith is quiet, a settling sound he hasn’t heard in weeks. No shuffling or movement, no sound of anyone living besides him. He knows it’s not the truth, he knows Ren wanders upstairs–he has to be up there. It would only make sense, given the timing.
Etho pauses at the threshold.
When he stops at the doorway, the sun is pooling into the window, filtering through the dust. On the table is a coffee cup, a dish, a dishrag left abandoned. He pushes past a vine that climbs down the beam and into the entryway. The leaves of their potted plants trickle down the wall. There is silence, aside from the faint sounds of birds and cicadas and windchimes.
When he looks into the kitchen, there are only empty dishes.
Etho rinses out the metal kettle and fills it with water. He lights the burner. The kettle goes on top. He takes down one cup and a tin. The tin, in capital letters, reads: lavender lemon.
On the stove, the kettle begins to boil.
(read the rest on ao3!)
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the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
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The reason Psych is the Important Show of All Time is because it said "friendship is the MOST important thing." Like, yes, the romances were good but the show spends even more time emphasizing and developing the friendships and that's why it rocks. Lassiter and Juliet love and support each other unconditionally without even the slightest whiff of romance and it is SO. REFRESHING. When Juliet almost dies, Lassie sacrifices his favorite gun to save her without any hesitation. He's the one there to hold her while she cries. She's his confidant. She leaves everything she knows behind so he can chase his dream of being chief without reprocussion. That's a deep, wholesome kind of platonic love. They also never had Shawn be jealous of how close Jules and Lassie are - instead, in the final episode, we see Shawn thanking Lassie for loving and supporting Juliet. We simply don't do that jealousy crap here. Lassie and Jules are best friends and that's an excellent thing. And then there's Shawn and Gus. Those characters are narratively and physically inseperable. The show makes it VERY clear that, without the other, neither one is complete. They balance each other and exacerbate each other's hijinks at the same time. They're closer than close and everyone around them just accepts it. It's just the way those two dumb boys are and no one is going to try to get between that. And then, of course, SO many friendships develop over the course of the show. Lassie and Shawn form a begrudging friendship eventually. Juliet and Karen end up bonding more than I think either expected. Friendship is the beating heart of this series and it's presented in a way that is unique and fun and I just don't see a lot of other shows that do it like Psych did.
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Heartbeat
[image description: A grayscale Trigun comic featuring Vash and Wolfwood.
Against a black background, child Vash floats in Ship 5, curled up and with his thumb pressed to his mouth. Heartbeat noises sound around him, and he looks at peace. The background shifts to white and shows adult Vash, sitting shirtless with his knees pulled up to his chest. The heartbeat sound continues only to be interrupted by knocking. Wolfwood, from outside the bathroom, asks, "Hey blondie! You fell asleep in there?"
The scene expands to reveal Vash sitting curled up in the bathtub, shower spraying on the back of his head. His clothes are left aimlessly on the bathroom counter and floor. From outside the bathroom, Wolfwood, shrugging of his jacket, continues, "… The sand steamer leaves at dawn tomorrow so don't take all night. I'm not waking you up gently if you're late." Vash's eyes continue to look downward, glazed and unfocused. Step sound effects and a yawn sound from outside the bathroom before Wolfwood says, "'m going to bed…". In the tub, Vash sits curled up against a dark background, before eventually lifting his head and unfurling himself as the background grows lighter.
He twists around to turn off the shower and then looks at the floor, going, "Ah." He sits, thinking, before calling out "Wolfwood?". A sleepy Wolfwood replies, "…yeah?" from offscreen. "I forgot my towel!" Vash exclaims. "Ugh, look under your change of clothes… Knew you'd forget so I left it there…" a grouchy Wolfwood replies. "Gee, thanks!" Vash replies, a cartoony doodle of him saying "so reliable!".
Vash, shirtless but with sleep pants on, opens the door, towel draped over his head, to see Wolfwood, reclining on the bed. Wolfwood's smoking and holding his rosary, lit by the light from the bathroom. Vash climbs into bed next to him, towel still around his shoulders, and rests his head on Wolfwood's chest. His eyes close and then open to see Wolfwood watching him. Vash exclaims, "Oh! It's speeding up!, and Wolfwood bonks him on the head before saying, "Get on here since ya wanna be so up close 'n personal!". The two tussle briefly and Vash laughs before Wolfwood tucks the blanket around them. Wolfwood continues to smoke as Vash curls up against his chest and listens to his heartbeat, the background turning black once again as he smiles, content. /end id]
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