#(except rob and he is not the good kind of troll)

[longroadstonowhere]

this is it

the final chapter of wild child

six and a half years ago, i wrote a little story with an open ending, and i thought well, maybe i’ll come back to this, who knows - i was just starting to get back into writing again, after taking several years off because nothing really inspired me to write

and then there was homestuck, and there were friends to encourage my writing, and after a while i thought, well, why not try continuing that seed of a story

six years ago this saturday, i published the second of what i thought would be six or eight chapters at most - clearly that estimate was completely wrong, haha - but i’m glad i continued this, because i’m proud of what i’ve done here

to everyone who’s read any part of this story, thank you

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 ao3)

Paul collapsed on the couch. John had stormed off through the front door after Jade had made her escape, and he couldn't blame either of them.Probably one of my worst parenting moments to date, he berated himself. Honestly I can't imagine how much worse I could have done.

Roxy settled on the couch next to him and stroked his back. "Well, that was a little bit of a shitstorm."

"Doctor!" Paul raised his head and looked at the stairs. "Your daughter -"

"Left to go find the others. They'll be fine." She sat back, tapping her hands against her thighs. Suddenly, she stood and made her way to the kitchen. "I'm going to get myself something to drink. Would you like some?"

He frowned. Early in the day for that, isn't it? He didn't voice his thought, though, just a simple "No thank you." Rubbing at his temple, he continued, "Really feel like I need to smoke, though."

She hummed in acknowledgement as she clattered around the kitchen. He heard something being poured into a glass, a pause, and then liquid splashing down the drain. He turned his head and saw the doctor filling two glasses with water. Coming back around the couch, she handed him one glass and held the other out. "To curbing vices," she proposed, with a facetious twist to her mouth.

With a matching half-smile, he tapped her glass and took a long sip. Swirling the water a little, he said mournfully, "I don't think John's ever been this angry with me, and I can't blame him. Every choice I made in this matter was the absolute worst choice I could have made. I can't expect him or Jade to ever trust me again."

"Well..." Roxy said thoughtfully. "It might be true that you could've handled things differently and it might have turned out better, but that's impossible to know for sure. Unless you have secret time travel powers?" she teased. Paul snorted out a little laugh despite himself. "No? That's sad, I could've used a new project at work. As for their trust..." Here she sighed. "I'll be honest - I've done my best for Rose, but I've done plenty I'm not proud of, either. Somehow, in spite of all my fuck-ups, she still loves me. I don't know how much she trusts me, but..." She shrugged helplessly. "All children discover their parents are human eventually. We can only hope they still love us when they get through to the other side."

Paul considered that for a moment. "I suppose... I just hoped that day wouldn't come so soon."

Roxy patted his shoulder in consolation. "From what I've seen, you've done a good job with both of them. With a little time, they'll come around."

John stomped away from their house, no goal in sight except just getting away. Dad is such an asshole! he fumed. I can't believe he kept this a secret from us for so long! I was so excited to show Jade what high school is like, and she knows the librarians so well, and what does any of it fucking matter?!? His feet kept pushing along with no interference from his brain, until he found himself near a small ostentatious building near the edge of the clearing that had been made around Rose's house. He didn't really notice the building, though. He was still too focused on mentally ripping his dad a new one. Tired of wandering at random, though, he started going around and around the little structure in a neverending circle.

"John?" Rose's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. She stood some distance away, her arms crossed and one eyebrow quirked upwards. "Are you attempting to create a moat of some sort with your feet alone? I'd admire your perseverance and admittedly misguided ambition if that were the case - but I must inform you we don't often find ourselves under siege, and if we were this building would not be worth any particular attention."

"Oh, uh..." John shuffled his feet, a little embarrassed and still kinda angry at his dad. He didn't really want to unload any of that on Rose, though. "What is this thing, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a building with pillars outside of like, City Hall."

"Well," Rose stepped forward, her hands moving to clasp behind her back, "this edifice began its life as a mausoleum for my former pet Jaspers. When he passed, my mother had this building constructed to give his mortal flesh a worthy final resting place." She smiled a little. "Then, after some self-reflection and a strongly worded letter from one of my teachers, she decided that was a little fucked up and decided to give Jaspers a more traditional burial for a simple pet - a shoebox buried beneath the flowers. Now we use this thing as a gardening shed."

"Huh. That's... really weird actually."

"That is but the tip of the weirdness manifesting itself as my mother," Rose said. "However, while I could continue to overshare emotionally scarring anecdotes from my past, I think I would serve better as an open ear than an open mouth. So," she carefully settled herself on the grass near the bizarre mausoleum-shed, "have a seat and let's, as the youths say, rap about your feelings."

John snorted without really meaning to. "You sound like a forty six year old woman trapped in a teenager's body saying that."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean by that, young man," Rose stated primly. She patted the grass beside her. "I must insist on the sitting, though. I'll strain my neck if you continue to stand while we talk, and it is simply impossible to find a good masseuse in this neck of the woods."

"Well, I wouldn't want to do something ungentlemanly like cause you grievous bodily harm," John joked as he sprawled next to Rose, his legs stretched in front of him. Once he was sitting, though, he had no idea what to say next. Rose had helped bleed some of his anger away by distracting him, but he could still feel it boiling away in his heart. "I dunno if there's much for me to say. My dad's a jerk and Jade's gonna have to leave, and there's nothing I can do about it."

Rose tilted her head slightly, like she was accepting what John said without agreeing with it. "I'm not so sure that last statement is true, but we can circle back to that. Let's talk to your father first. Does he often spring news on you like this?"

"... No. He usually tells me stuff way before it matters. He always says he wants to give me space to get used to something new, but this is like one of the hugest things that could ever happen and he just drops it all at once?" John exhaled in disgust and fell backwards, his arms stretched out above his head. "I'm already fucked up about high school and growing up, why does this have to change too?"

Rose sighed. "Change can truly be a brutal taskmaster, one with no mercy or compassion for those swept along in its wake. But, well..." Rose paused for a long time, long enough that John wondered if she was done talking entirely. He didn't feel the need to fill the silence for once, though - it felt weirdly okay to just let time pass. He watched a few wisps of cloud slowly drift across the sky. Finally Rose started to speak again. "Honestly, I generally find change to be a shitty joke played on the unprepared fools we all are, but sometimes it can be an unexpected boon. For example," she turned and gave John a surprisingly genuine smile, "though I've only known you a short time, I find both you and Jade to be quite pleasurable additions to my life, an outcome I'd certainly never have predicted in advance. So, even if all the events leading up to our meeting have been exceedingly shitty, I would deem the end result quite satisfactory."

John took a few seconds to process all those words before snorting in laughter. "Wow, that's one of the dorkiest ways I've ever heard someone say 'Let's be friends!', ahahahahaha!" He curled in on his stomach, unable to stop laughing.

Rose sniffed in disapproval. "Such boorish antics... truly it is a mystery how you have ever befriended anyone. 'Tis a riddle I should have to devote my life to unraveling, if I were so inclined to such an activity." Her words sounded kinda mean, but she didn't make any moves like she was going to walk off and just leave him there. And she'd come out to find him after he'd stormed off, which said a lot more than her words did.

Well, maybe not a lot more... John thought, considering how many words Rose generally said. But it does mean a lot, at least. John sat back up and smiled at Rose. "Thanks. I guess I kinda needed that."

She nodded graciously. "My pleasure. I've found something of a fascination for delving into the psychological depths of those around me, so it is gratifying to find a material beneficial output for my knowledge."

"Uh, sure, okay." That sounded kind of like 'you're welcome', if he didn't think about it too hard. John stood and dusted bits of grass off his shorts. Looking at the house, though, he wasn't ready to see his dad again yet. Besides, he had something very important to do. "So, where do you think the tallest tree is around here?"

Jade swung her feet in the air, her eyes sweeping over the unfamiliar horizon. Off the island for months and I still run for a tree when something's wrong, she berated herself. Growing up, climbing trees had been both fun and beneficial, since it gave her the best view of her surroundings, letting her scope out unplundered plants or useful scrap that drifted onto the beach.

Trees had also helped her escape from the beasts that had grown bold after her grandpa's death, animals that Bec could take on one at a time but could easily overwhelm him with numbers. Most of the ones who were chasing her for food couldn't climb, though, so the higher she went, the safer she was.

There weren't any beasts like that here, though - nothing that would kill her, tear her to shreds for a decent meal. She was safe here, probably the safest she'd been in her entire life.

And yet she still ran.

I'm better than this, she thought angrily. I've been around people all the time, and I didn't hurt Rob at all when he tried to fight me, and... Ugh!She fell backwards, hanging off the branch upside down. I can't believe how dumb I'm being about all this!

She sat like that for a while, letting the blood rush to her head until it started to hurt. She let it pound away, the pulsing in her head matching her anger at herself. It got so loud that she almost missed Bec's quiet warning bark - no danger but he saw something that needed her attention.

Straining, she looked down at the ground upside down and could see John at the bottom of the tree approaching Bec carefully. He stopped a few feet short and held his hand out to the dog, who padded forward and let John scratch between his ears. His light laughter drifted up the tree towards her. He gave Bec one last big scritch and looked up the tree at Jade. "Hi Jade! Cold you come down a couple branches? I wanna talk but I don't really want to shout, and these trees are harder to climb than the ones back home."

Home. That word hurt more than she thought it would. She'd gotten over the idea of having a home to belong to years ago, right? Home was about people, after all - that's what her stories had said, and all she had was Bec.

John stood quietly at the bottom of the tree, but he was shifting his weight back and forth, like he was trying to decide if he should leave or not. Finally he tightened his fists and nodded to himself before approaching the tree. He jumped and just barely caught one of the lowest branches, pulling himself up until he could straddle it. Balancing against the tree trunk, he slowly stood up on the branch and looked for the next one. He eyed one just out of reach, but before he could make a jump for that one, Jade called down, "If you're gonna be stubborn, fine, I'll climb down a little." He was super bad at climbing, after all, and dealing with a broken leg or something would just make everything even worse.

Jade casually dropped down the tree until she was a few branches above John. She settled into the nexus of several branches and waited for him to say something. He was the one who wanted to talk after all.

"So..." John said as he sat on his branch again, his legs dangling in the air. "That's some shitty news, huh? Kinda wish Dad had told us earlier, but I guess there's no good time for that kind of news. It's weird to think he could mess up like that, though. Adults aren't supposed to fuck things up."

Jade pressed her back into the tree, trying not to think about what parents should or shouldn't be like. Imagining how things could go wouldn't change what was happening.

John sighed loudly. "Wow, I suck at cheering people up. Rose is way better than me at this." He shook his head vigorously and slapped his hands to his cheeks. "Okay! Here's what I really need to say!" He looked straight at Jade, locking eyes with her. "I want you to come home with me and Dad, and I don't care what anyone says about it. You're my sister, and you belong with us, and anybody who thinks differently is gonna regret it, even if they are some hotshot lawyer with... a briefcase and... and a carphone!" He scowled at the ground, one hand on his forehead. "Wow, that last part sounded stupid, just ignore that bit. The important thing is you're my family, no matter what anyone says."

Jade froze, not sure what she should do. No one had ever made her feel important like that, not since Grandpa... No, she admitted, not even Grandpa. Before she realized it, she was dropping down towards John, grabbing him in a strong embrace when she reached his level. "Whoa - !" John flailed and nearly fell off, but Jade made sure they stayed. Once they were stabilized, John hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a long time.

Bec's soft whine, followed by some scratching noises, finally convinced Jade to pull back. She looked down through surprisingly watery eyes to see Bec pawing at the trunk of the tree. "I'm fine," she told him, a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. And she was, for once. She actually was.

Beside her, John wiped a few tears out of his eyes. "Wow... now I know how Cameron Poe must have felt when he finally gave Casey that bunny," he laughed.

Jade laughed too, and shoved at him a little. "No more lame movie references, we are having a serious moment!" John was too distracted trying to stay seated on the branch to argue. Jade let the smile drop from her mouth as she gathered her thoughts. "... Do you really think they'll make me leave you guys?"

John furrowed his brow in deep thought. "Custody can be really weird sometimes. But, you know..." John trailed off, looking around at their surroundings. "If you did have to live somewhere else, this wouldn't be the worst place probably. Rose is pretty cool, in a super nerdy way, and it does look pretty."

"I guess... but... " Jade gathered her courage. "I don't want to. I want to go... home."

John wrapped one arm around her. "Okay. That's what we'll do."

John sat on the couch, doing his best not to fidget nervously and absolutely failing on all fronts. Jade lay on the floor in front of him with Bec, the pair tussling half-heartedly over one of Bec's toys that they'd brought along. Rose sat on one of the other couches, knitting a scarf or something and looking for all the world like she didn't care about anything else besides her project.

The day before, they'd all had a real long talk about strategies and feelings and everything in between. There had been more than a few manly tears shed, as well as some hugs so tight they squeezed the air out of everyone's lungs,, but at some point all they could do was wait for the lawyer to come and discuss everything with them.

The adults were with the lawyer now in Dr. Lalonde's study, discussing the dry details of Uncle Harley's will. Rose had tried to argue that all of them should be present, but Dad thought they would run out of steam if they had to listen to the minutiae, so he'd suggested the kids come in once all the boring stuff was over. On the one hand, John couldn't really blame his dad - he could barely pay attention to his teacher's lectures, and he could understand what they were talking about for the most part.

On the other hand, that left the three of them out here with nothing to do but obsess over whatever was happening in that room.

Unable to keep still any longer, John leaped to his feet and started pacing between the couches and the stairs, carefully stepping over Jade and Bec on his way. Neither girl seemed to pay him any mind, but he knew Jade at least was probably keeping an eye on him. Probably Rose too, really. They were both scarily observant of where people were at all times. They'd probably get even scarier about it if they ended up living together.

Nope nope nope! John shook his head sharply. Jade's gonna come home where she belongs, and that's that, even if I have to kidnap her. He stopped pacing, one hand coming up to cup his chin. I'd have to drive, since I don't think we could get on an airplane without some kind of adult, and also tickets would be super expensive. Driving can't be that hard, right? I should be tall enough to reach the pedals on Dad's car, and I know where he keeps his keys. Food, though...

"Um, John?" Jade's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to see her kneeling on the couch, looking at him in concern. "What... are you doing?"

John laughed nervously. "Oh, I was.... planning how to kidnap you?"

Behind Jade, he could see Rose shaking with suppressed laughter. Jade half-smiled, but her heart definitely wasn't in it. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head - she was just as nervous as he was, if not more, and he had no idea how to fix that.

Jade looked down the hallway towards the study. "How much longer do you think they're gonna talk?"

John shrugged helplessly. "I guess Uncle Harley had a lot of complicated stuff in his will? He was technically like a billionaire or something, since the Betty Crocker company belonged to him." He looked down the hall as well. "They could be in there for a really long time probably."

Rose set her knitting aside and confidently stood up. "Well then, I suggest we go see how they're getting on for ourselves." She came around the couches and strode past John towards the hallway. He gave Jade a quick look before following Rose, and he could hear Jade scrambling over the couch to join them.

Outside the study, Rose kneeled in front of the door, one ear pressed close. She motioned for John to be quiet as he approached. He frowned - he wasn't stomping around like an elephant or anything, and he knew better than to give away that they were eavesdropping! As proof of such intelligence, he didn't give Rose a piece of his mind then and there. Instead, he knelt next to her, pressing his own ear against the door to try and hear what was going on. Jade stayed standing and leaned over the both of them, one hand on John's shoulder to keep her balance.

The adults were talking quietly, making it difficult to hear them through the door. Okay, so maybe Rose had a good point about being silent, he thought ruefully. He had to breathe really slowly through his mouth to be quiet enough to have any chance of understanding what they were saying.

"As you can see, Mr. Harley was quite thorough in protecting the trust for Jade." That was the lawyer's voice - they'd introduced themselves to everyone before disappearing into the study with Dad and Doctor Lalonde. "And since he tied everything about access to the trust with whoever has Jade's custody..."

There was a barely audible sigh, which John recognized as coming from his dad. "Yes, I can see why you said you needed to speak with me in person. This is far more complex than I'd even imagined." A pause, with some furniture creaking that suggested his dad was moving around in some way - leaning forward maybe? "Why was he so particular about this? He must have trusted his business partners well enough, since he left them in complete control of the company while he was... gallivanting around the world."

More furniture creaks, and Dr. Lalonde said, "Jake was never very good with people - that's why he liked exploring so much, it meant he could just leave whenever he started worrying about whether he was offending someone or what have you." She laughed a little. "I think he might've left Jade to me just because he could stand being around me for at least a week at a time."

"I'd also like to note," the lawyer said, "he didn't leave his partners completely alone while he traveled. He had access to some extraordinary technology across the years - we take cell phones and their communication abilities for granted now, but fifteen or twenty years ago that instantaneous correspondence was just barely beginning to enter the public eye. Mr. Harley's island was kitted out with a whole host of machines that allowed him to check on his company far more often than one would have expected, and he could give them instructions as well. He was more hands-on than the company would lead you to believe."

The furniture creaked again, and John's dad said, "So he was still running the company from all the way out there?" His voice was getting louder and softer - it sounded like he was pacing back and forth. "He went to all those lengths, just to avoid his business colleagues while still keeping control of his company?"

"That's Jake in a nutshell, really. He had a great deal of pride in his family's company, so he couldn't let it pass from his hands while he was alive, but he couldn't stand living in the same 'humdrum reality' as the rest of us." The doctor's voice changed a little as she said those words, and Jade gripped John's shoulder a little tighter. Guess that's her Uncle Harley impression. It must be pretty good for Jade to react like that, John thought.

"Okay..." Dad still seemed to be pacing back and forth. "So he accepted his business had to pass into other hands on his death, but he wanted to provide a good future for Jade, and so he put all his wealth into this trust fund for her. Would his business partners really try to get at his wealth through Jade? I know it's quite a bit of money but -"

The lawyer interrupted. "They already have tried, and not just his business partners. Several parties have come forward inquiring about Jade's custody since they learned of her current situation. Somehow word's gotten around that Mr. Harley's fortune will not be funneled back into the company, as so many presumed it would, and regrettably some of those who made such presumptions are much less scrupulous than one would hope."

"Yeah, Jake had good reason to make his will so strong, unfortunately," the doctor said. "With what he knew, he made the best choices possible. I just wish he'd known a little more."

"It's unfortunate that he and Mother fell out of contact," John's dad sighed. "This all could have been avoided. And you're certain there's no way to accept custody of Jade without also gaining access to this trust fund?"

"No, that was one thing Mr. Harley didn't think of," the lawyer replied. "Of course, he assumed with everything else in place that Jade would go to Doctor Lalonde here, and he knew her to be in an extremely secure financial situation. As such, and because he personally knew her, Mr. Harley was certain that Jade's money would be safe in the doctor's hands."

"Yes, I wouldn't dream of touching her money myself, outside of providing for whatever lessons she desires in the future," Dad said. "But... if I try to take full custody of Jade, those vultures circling around Uncle Harley's will would try to argue that my motivation is purely financial, won't they?"

The lawyer responded, "Yes, I think it's safe to say they would certainly challenge your claim on those grounds, considering your own situation. After all, you've been holding up admirably, but even with just the quick glance you graciously allowed me, I can see that you've been struggling on that front for some time."

"What?" John said, unable to help himself. He clapped his hands over his mouth as Rose turned to glare at him. Oops.

The conversation in the study paused, and then footsteps came towards them. John and the others stepped away from the door, just in time to avoid stumbling through as John's dad opened it. He looked down at the three of them, smiling a little and shaking his head. "I suppose we should have expected you to tire of waiting for us to finish," he said. "Well, if you're going to listen, you should join us so you can speak as well." He turned back into the room and returned to the table they were all sitting around.

Rose wasted no time entering the room and claiming a chair for herself. John entered a little more cautiously, making sure Jade was right behind him. He felt sort of timid, which was a really weird feeling for him - most of the time, he jumped into a new situation too fast to feel anything more than excitement or anger or whatever. After that first rush, he usually just felt dumb about jumping in, but not timid. That was an alien thing.

He swallowed, trying to gulp down this weird feeling at the same time. "So... is that why we've been eating spaghetti all the time? Because we're poor now?"

"Oh John," his dad sighed. "We're not... yes, having another person in the house has strained our financial situation somewhat, but we're doing fine. Besides, I'll take any hardship to give you the life you deserve." He looked at Jade. "Both of you."

John glanced down at his hands, pride in his dad overwhelming his ability to say anything else. The lawyer politely cleared their throat. "That is extremely admirable, Mr. Egbert. I could only wish all parents were as devoted as you."

Dad blushed a little. "Well, it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he muttered.

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "You know, you almost sound like Jake when you say that." She sobered quickly, turning back to the lawyer. "So, as much as I hate to be all serious, did Jake leave any provisions for what would happen to Jade if I were..." Her eyes flickered to where Rose was sitting. "Let's say incapacitated?"

"You can say 'if you were dead', Mom," Rose stated, deadpan. "I'm well aware of how mortal our flesh is."

The doctor chewed her lip. "That's not the only thing I meant, Rose." Mother and daughter looked at each other, communicating something John couldn't even try to understand. Rose nodded, just a little, and seemed to relax slightly.

"In the event that you were incapable of serving as Jade's guardian," the lawyer diplomatically continued the conversation, "Mr. Harley specified that, to put it in simple terms, Jade was to be provided for in an identical way to your own daughter if at all possible. Any other contingencies specifically require your incapacitation."

"Ah, no luck there, then," she said lightly. "It was a long shot, anyway."

"Um..." Jade raised her hand a little. Where'd she pick that up from? John wondered - she obviously hadn't attended any real classes yet, but maybe she'd marathoned some school show and hadn't told them about it. "Can I say something?"

"Of course! This is your future, after all," the lawyer stated.

"Right, okay." Jade took a deep breath, in and out. "So, Grandpa wanted Doctor Lalonde to be my guardian, and made it really really complicated for anyone else to get the job because of this money he set aside for me, right?"

John's dad nodded. "That is a good summary of the situation, yes."

"So, um... is it possible for both you and the doctor to be my guardians?" Jade asked, looking at each of the adults.

The lawyer leaned back, stroking their chin. "Partial custody.... you know, I think that could actually work. I'll have to discuss it with my colleagues who are more versed in these things, but that should satisfy Mr. Harley's conditions regarding Doctor Lalonde as Jade's guardian, as well as allow her to spend most of her time living with the Egberts." They looked at the doctor. "I'm fairly certain you would have to host Jade for some significant period of time, though, or else you could be challenged on whether you were acting in good faith as her guardian."

Doctor Lalonde grinned. "How about... oh, say, six weeks every summer?" She turned to John and his dad. "I'd be more than happy to house the two of you, as well. It wouldn't be the same without everyone here."

Dad smiled wide, exuberant joy pouring out from his face. "That sounds absolutely perfect, Roxy. I would be more than happy to accept those terms."

"So... that works? I get to stay with John and Mr. Egbert?" Jade asked, like she had to hear someone say it straight out before she could believe it. Honestly, John couldn't blame her - he felt the same way.

The lawyer smiled. "As I see it, you get to stay with your family."

John whooped in joy and tackled Jade to the ground. "You get to stay!" he shouted - he was so happy, he wanted the whole world to know why.

Jade laughed and hugged him back. No matter what came next, John would remember this as one of the best moments in his entire life.

[nimsabeef]

davekat isn't a bad couple, actually

okay, i am bored and sleep deprived and i just went through @davekat-sucks's blog. this is a recipe for disaster. sigh. hope you don't mind me doing this ms. davekat sucks, its just that some of your takes were so frigid i just couldn't bring myself to ignore them. various thoughts under the cut

first off, id like to say that this not an attempt to blame you for making this blog, or for disliking davekat. you can ship whatever the fuck you want and express your opinion however you like. i actually really appreciate the courage. fuck yeah, go against the status quo. post about a controversial topic. fandom would be boring without people like you. but the thing is, your takes are so cold bestie. they are straight up frigid. i am so sorry but the sight of them got me freezing and shaking uncontrollably

why do you base so much of your criticism around hs2 and the epilogues whilst simultaneously claiming they're badly written and shouldn’t be canon? YES their characterisations were fucked in post-canon. that's the case for most characters!! it's kind of hypocritical to use post-canon as a basis to bash davekat and then turn around and completely disregard that when it comes to pairings like roxygen or rosemary. guess what! they were fucked over by post-canon too! and yet you're not going around claiming that johnroxy sucks, even though john basically abandoned roxy and cheated on her. you're not going around claiming rosemary is a horrible pairing because of the yiffy fiasco in homestuck 2. and you still like those ships. so do i!!

hs2 turned davekat into some kind of fanservice generator and robbed dave and karkat of most of their personalities, i agree. but that's because hs2 fucking sucks. they did that for most of the character anyway. why does it only matter to you when it's davekat? much to think about.

so yeah. im not going to address the criticism pertaining to the epilogues and beyond. im not defending them

another thing you keep bringing up is dave hating quadrants which, jesus fucking christ. it makes me doubt you have any reading comprehension skills. the label felt alien to him, yes. he initially rejected the concept because it seemed weird and off-putting, probably, and that's normal. most of the kids thought troll culture was weird at first. and! he didn't break up with terezi because he hated quadrants! he just doesn't like the polygamous aspect of it.

but let's suppose for the sake of argument that he actually, canonically, hates quadrants. what would that even mean? would that imply he would never get into a relationship with a troll, seeing as those would technically be quadrants? or that he doesn't feel any kind of quadrant-related romantic attraction? both of these were proven wrong by canon because: 1) he willingly got into a matespritship with terezi 2) humans can feel pale, pitch, and red attraction; they just label it differently. karkat elaborates on that in a conversation with john, probably around act6 act5. and davekat doesnt even fall squarely under any quadrant, so this is all pointless lol

one other point you brought up was that as soon as they got close to one another on the meteor, they stopped being active in the plot and disregarded all of the issues their friends were dealing with, proving that their relationship was lazy writing which caused their development to stagnate. this is a good point! but when you look into it, that's not really what happened.

the beta kids and the surviving trolls all began blending into the background during act 6 as the story began focusing on the alpha kids. most of them were sitting around, not particularly doing anything relevant, because there was nothing relevant to be done except for waiting. like kanaya, or davesprite, for example.

you mention that it was ooc for dave and karkat not to help terezi while she was getting abused. the thing is, terezi tried to keep her relationship with gamzee under wraps. she didn't really succeed at that, but people still didn't know exactly what was going on with them at first. karkat wasn't even told about it. he didn't even know she was dating gamzee up until very late into the trip. dave had just broken up with her and didn't know much about troll quadrants by that point, so he probably just thought it was all kismesis shit and didn't want to intrude. again, if he had known what was really going on, he probably would have intervened, but he only had a vague idea about it since terezi wasn't open about her relationship with gamzee. that is, up until the very end of the trip, and by that point dave and karkat WERE trying to encourage her.

you mention that they also didn't help rose with her addiction, but dave was trying! he spent a whole scene trying to get her to drink less! (the one right before the rosemary kiss)

but the thing is. most of the meteor shenanigans happened off screen, so we're not certain of anything. but again, for the sake of argument, let's assume they actually weren't even trying to help their friends. why would that matter? why would the fact that they weren't rushing to fix all of their friends emotional issues have any impact on their feelings for each other? they're traumatised teenagers, they make mistakes! theyre flawed characters!

kanaya didnt try to help terezi with the gamzee situation either. she didnt try to contact the ship either. instead, she spent most of her time with rose. does that make rosemary a horrible pairing? is it ooc for rose and kanaya? from what i've seen, this doesnt seem to be your opinion on the subject.

yeah that’s basically it. you don’t need to respond, but a response would be welcome. thank you for reading!

[welllpthisishappening]

It all kind of happens in slow motion.

One second, Emma hears the crack of the bat and the requisite roar of the crowd, and the next her eyes have widened to a size most scientists would likely advise against. Because, standing at home plate, that same home plate multiple baseball players are sprinting toward, is her kid. More or less waiting to be run over. That is, of course, until Killian Jones.

———

Word Count: 4.1K Rating: Flufffy fluff fluff of the fluffiest variety AN: Writing has been something of a legitimate challenge for me in the last few weeks, but earlier this week @ohmightydevviepuu sent a link to this tweet, tagged me, and said what I basically took as an unspoken prompt. Like, you’re going to send me video of a bat boy getting scooped up at home by a player in the middle of the game and then think I won’t write about it? Not possible. Even with the aforementioned writing challenges. Nothing stands a chance against my love of baseball. Here’s hoping the Yankees turn it around in the second half. Neither Aaron Judge or I deserve the season we’ve had so far.

———

Biologically speaking, Emma Swan is perfectly aware that the current positioning of her heart is more or less impossible. 

Stuck somewhere between the back of her throat and the pit of her stomach, it makes her all too aware of the now-empty chasm in her chest, stretching out toward her arms and threatening the structural integrity of her lungs, neither of which appear all that intent on working properly. Oxygen is a luxury not currently afforded to her capillaries. Instead, nerves mix with anxiety and the telltale flush of adrenaline that probably also makes her look relatively crazy because her pupils are definitely dilated and she does not know nearly enough about science to be making any of these claims. 

Whatever, really. 

It feels like that ooze from that movie. FernGully, Emma thinks. With the fairies. She thinks they were fairies. She’s not entirely certain they were fairies. 

And the ooze was definitely oil, obviously. There was a message involved in that movie. Not one that she appreciated when she was seven and Tim Curry’s animated-oil voice sort of freaked her out. But, like, she gets it now. The environment, and everything. With or without fairies. With Robin Williams, though. 

She’s positive about that, at least. 

Robin Williams was definitely in that movie. 

Less positive about the ability of her heart to actually split itself in half, as it seems wont to do at the moment. So, as to make it easier when it inevitably soars out of her mouth and falls onto the scuffed-up clubhouse floor beneath her feet. Naturally, this will happen simultaneously. For maximum effect. 

Much like the fireworks currently exploding over the left-field bleachers. 

She’s not sure if fireworks do explode, actually. That seems dangerous. Likely to lead to injuries and sounds that don’t resemble the  oohs and ahhs a ballpark generally inspires. Explode probably isn’t the right word. Maybe something more like…detonate. 

No, that’s worse. Way worse. She’s got to learn more words. Find a thesaurus or a dictionary or—a fireworks expert would be ideal, honestly.

Someone who could give her a detailed description of the inner-workings of a Yankee Stadium pyrotechnics display on a Tuesday in July, enough words that Emma’s mind would still for a few moments, allowing her to catch her breath and reestablish a consistent heart rate, and both of those problems could also likely be solved by sitting down, but the chair to her left looks a little wobbly, and her legs appear to have minds of their own because science is rather quickly becoming a lie and—

“Is he alright?” She spins. Nearly falls over. Her knees are also awfully wobbly, that’s why. 

Despite all of that, and the overall circumference of her pupils, the voice doesn’t retreat. Doesn’t even flinch. Shows absolutely no signs of imminent stumbling. And that’s probably because the voice is a man, one who is in possession of world-class instinctual reactions, and his hair is still damp from his post-game shower and it absolutely makes her something of an atrocious mother to acknowledge that last thing as quickly as she does. 

His shirt sleeves are noticeably sticking to his biceps, so that helps too. 

Opening her mouth, Emma is going to say words that are both vaguely intelligent and passably accurate, absolving this Major League Baseball player of any of the guilt he so obviously feels. Which is just patently stupid, really. None of this was his fault. None of it was anyone’s fault, really. 

Except maybe the idiot who left his bat at that particular angle across home plate, but Emma’s an adrenaline expert these days and walk-offs are understandably exciting. First walk-offs more so. 

She’s happy for Scarlet, really. 

They won the game. 

Everything is fine. Great, even. She nearly jumps twenty-six feet in the air at the next boom of fireworks. 

The pinch between the Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows gets—

Pinchier. 

The little roll of skin draws Emma’s attention, effectively robbing her of the ability to respond like an almost-sane person, but she’s also still trying to rationalize why she can remember the words to several FernGully songs while also being unable to recall what flavor PopTart she had for breakfast earlier this week and she figures watching her kid nearly get run over by professional athletes approximately forty-two minutes before gives her a fairly reasonable excuse. 

For opening and closing her mouth no less than eight consecutive times. 

Like a goddamn fish. There were no fish in FernGully. Least not so far as she remembers. 

It’s entirely possible she squeaks on attempt number five. 

The Major League Baseball player’s eyebrows do not move. It’s equal parts frustrating and incredible to behold. 

“I should probably thank you, right?” Emma asks, not quite regretting the words immediately, but it’s awfully close. That gets her some movement. Of the eyebrow variety. One eyebrow, specifically. Arching up, it somehow still manages to pull her attention directly toward eyes that should be the star of their own marketing campaign. Not quite Yankee blue, but distractingly blue, and it takes everything in her not to huff as dramatically as she wants to. Once the athletic trainer is done with Henry, Emma is going to make him examine her lungs. Rationality rules the day. 

Major League Baseball player shakes his head. It’s dumb to call him that. She knows his name. Knows at least some of his history. Is still staring obnoxiously at his freakishly attractive face. 

Freakishly is kind of mean, too. As far as descriptions go. 

“Unnecessary,” he says, an undercurrent of worry still clear in the letters. Ducking his head, he takes a cautious step forward, almost as if he’s wary of what Emma will do, and she supposes that’s fair. What with the impressive vertical she’s in possession of these days. “Anyone would do that.” “I’m not sure they could, actually.”

At some point in this otherwise shitty experience of a night, Emma is vaguely confident something will go the way she wants it to. Aside from winning. She’s glad they won. Seriously. 

“No?” “No,” she echoes, and it’s not like she can feel him. A few feet of space separates them, so whatever heat appears to be wafting off the Major League Baseball player in front of her, with his damp hair, and stupid, stupid, stupid eyes is as impossible as any of the various impossibilities currently taking place within her person. 

And yet. 

He sticks his hand out. 

It’s disarmingly earnest. 

“Killian Jones,” he says, confidence replacing the nerves, and Emma begins to see why there are so many stories. And Twitter threads. Regarding his face and the potential for that face to date a variety of other attractive faces across at least four of the five boroughs. Somehow Emma doesn’t think Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, is schlepping out to Staten Island for a date. 

Nor does she believe that Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has ever once let the word schlep pass through his conscious mind. 

She takes his hand. 

It is—

Surprisingly warm. And...not quite soft, that’d be impossible with the job he performs almost nightly. But the calluses on the pads of his fingers aren’t as rough as Emma expects, which also suggests she’s managed to ponder the overall texture of Killian Jones’s fingers in the last twelve point six seconds, and that’s not entirely true. What is true is that Ruby thinks Killian Jones is real good-looking and has determined that the phrase quite a catch is the pinnacle of humor, so, sure, Emma has possibly considered the possibility of paths crossing and intersecting, and her hand looks minuscule wrapped up in his. So, that’s something to think about later. 

Their arms move. Bob up and down as society dictates they should, and he’s smiling at her, and she’s trying not to look like a serial killer, straining to hear the voices behind the door, and it does not work. 

“Why do you think people are so consistently fascinated by fireworks?” If he’s surprised by her absolutely inane question, he doesn’t show it. That’s points. For what, Emma hasn’t totally decided yet, but it’s something, and it’s probably good, and they’re going to play that clip on loop for weeks. Longer, probably. 

Every goddamn day if the Yankees make the postseason. 

When the Yankees make the postseason. 

Her dad wouldn’t appreciate the buffer. Leaves room for loss, and that is not the Nolan way. Not when there are championships to win, and this was supposed to be the best possible time. Smack dab in the middle of the season, with the All-Star break looming, Henry would get to suit up as batboy for one game that didn’t mean much and wouldn’t draw too strong of a spotlight, no murmurs about nepotism by internet trolls who couldn’t possibly define the word with any sort of accuracy, but also like to shout about canceling and culture with an almost alarming sense of self-righteousness, so, of course, the whole thing was now blowing up in their face. 

Much like the goddamn fireworks. 

It wasn’t Will Scarlet’s fault. 

Wasn’t Henry’s fault, either. 

His job was to get the bats out of the field of play. Doing it while the field of play was still active was a mistake any kid could have made. Just so happens that it’s Emma’s kid, and the grandkid of the Yankees’ hitting coach, and that means something to the New York media and the New York fans, and if Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman with an arm that can make cross-field throws with ease, wasn’t also so quick-thinking and sure-footed, scooping Henry up as he crossed home plate and avoiding the ensuing swarm of players at home plate, all intent on celebrating Will Scarlet’s first-ever career walk-off, Emma can only imagine what would have happened. 

Trampled. Stepped on. Broken bones. Concussions. 

They’re checking Henry for a concussion now. He absolutely does not have a concussion. He was laughing while he was carried off the field. Like he hit the walk-off. 

Front office is absolutely petrified she’s going to sue them. 

The thought hadn’t even once crossed Emma’s mind. Plus, she’s sort of busy. Holding Killian Jones’s hand. His stupid, warm hand. 

“Bright colors,” he says, responding to a question Emma’s nearly forgotten about. Jumping is more challenging when his fingers tighten ever so slightly. “Flash, boom. Taps into baser instincts, I think.” “You think people’s base instinct is to enjoy explosions.” “Phrasing that as a statement makes me think you don’t agree with me.” “You didn’t want me to thank you,” Emma points out.

“Well, no,” he says, and the precise way his eyes drop does something specific to all of her instincts. Leaves her flush with a heat that reminds her of Fourth of July sparklers rather than any sort of massive explosion, and that’s not bad, per se, although it’s admittedly a little surprising. As is the slight uptick of precisely one side of his mouth. It takes her a moment to realize he’s smirking at her. And another for her subconscious to admit that it’s working as intended. Her shoulders drop half an inch. While Emma pulls her hand back to her side. “Thanking me suggests I did anything to warrant the thanks.” “Big words.” “For a dumb athlete, you mean.” “That wasn’t a question, either.” “No,” Killian repeats, “it wasn’t.” “I’d really like to thank you. I—Dad told him when to come out of the dugout, so he definitely knew the rules, but I think he was super worried about you tripping over the bat.”

The smirk becomes a full-blown smile. Which is no less than forty-seven thousand times more powerful. Equivalent to staring directly into a solar eclipse or gazing upon the dark side of the moon, and Emma should at least do some research before coming up with these internal examples. Basic Google searches would provide her with the necessary information. 

“That’s more or less what he told me, yeah.” Emma’s nose creases. “Talked your ear off after your daring rescue, huh?” “Keep complimenting me like this, and my ego won’t know what to do with it.”

She hopes she’s not blushing as much as it feels like she is. The state of Killian’s eyebrows and the precise curl of his lips make that seem unlikely. “Your reflexes are unparalleled.” “Something about big bucks and why I get paid them.” “Oh,” Emma laughs, unable to stop herself, and she doesn’t remember deciding to stop pacing, only that her knees appreciate it once she has, “you think you’re real funny, don’t you?” “I think I’m moderately funny, not the hero you’re suggesting I am—” “Oh, I never used the word hero.” “—And you never actually told me your name.”

“Because you don’t know who I am.” It’s not a question, either. Neither one of them mention that. 

“I do,” Killian concedes, “Henry was also fairly quick to mention exactly who he was and where his mother was sitting.” Emma’s nose is going to freeze in this position. “But I gave you my name, which makes it only fair that we’re all square and whatnot.” “Whatnot, huh?” “Yup.” He pops his lips on the letter. Which is also unfair. In, like, the grand scheme of the world. The black ooze that is not actually oil when used in this particular metaphor recedes. Leaves Emma with a chest cavity that is partially full of butterfly wings and the growing sense of anticipation that isn’t quite as nerve-wracking as it should be. Like she’s about to step into the batter’s box with two outs and runners in scoring position. She’s totally going to hit against the shift. Fluttering her fingers at her side, Emma doesn’t lift her hand. It doesn’t matter. 

Killian’s eyes drop. To the movement. And her. And part of her shies away from that because part of her has spent a lifetime tucked into a shadow that didn’t belong to her and doesn’t belong to Henry, but now there’s some joke about Peter Pan to be made because they live in an internet-age and Killian Jones has a very good face. So. Viral video, enter stage right. Starring Henry Swan, Killian Jones, and the inevitably uneven pitter-patter of Emma’s traitorous heart. 

“Emma Swan.” “I think you should sit down.”

“Why is that, exactly?” “I’m worried about your legs.”

Whatever noise she makes can’t quite be classified as a scoff. It hurts her throat too much. And it’s not a laugh, either. Even as the butterflies threaten to rise up in mutiny of Emma’s more rational feelings, and she gets the distinct impression that Killian is reading her mind. Trying very hard, at least. 

“Sounds like a line.” “Might be a line,” he admits, which draws another wholly inhuman sound out of Emma’s barely-functioning lungs. 

“Did he kick you on the lift?” Killian hums. “You’d kick too if you were just hauled off your feet, so I understand the reaction. What I’m more worried about is the inevitable bruise on my foot from the bat landing there.” “Ah shit, really?” “I’ve had worse.” “But not in 4K video that people will play on loop for the rest of the news cycle. If not longer.” Narrowing his eyes, Killian doesn’t immediately respond. Mind reading requires a modicum of focus, Emma assumes. Instead, he rests a hand on her shoulder, directing her toward the chair and ignoring the soft crack her left knee as it bends. “That’s what you’re worried about.” “Stop sounding so confident.” “I can only sound how I am, Swan.” “Oh, I’m not sure we’ve reached nickname status yet,” she mumbles, pushing down the soft rush of metaphorical insects doing their beset to soar out of her barely-parted lips. “But, yeah, I—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was totally terrified in the moment.”

“Understandable. Grown men barrelling down the third-base line at your kid are a lot to take in.” She snorts. It’s not cute. Not dignified. Killian smirks. “Should you be concerned that the Scarlet was making such solid headway behind you? Are you exceedingly slow?” “I am league average.” “How fast can you get out of the box to first?” “I’ve never timed it.” “Liar, liar.” “Please don’t make a crack about my pants,” Killian says, “I won’t be able to cope.”

“Oh God, you think you’re charming, too.” “I’ve had no complaints.” “To your face, at least.”

Throwing his head back, the laugh that erupts out of him is not of volcano proportions. Of which there was also one in FernGully if Emma’s memory is to be trusted.  An arm circles his middle, stretching muscle and ensuring that Emma notices just how corded that same muscle is, the slight bend of his wrist leaving her off-kilter. When he meets her gaze, she swears his eyes are brighter. “Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” Killian concedes, “no one has flat out told me I was lacking charm to my face.” “This thanking you thing is going great.” “And I continue to not need thanks. Why are you worried about the video getting out there? Filmed in 4K like you suggest, at least we’ll all look great. Sharp pixels and whatnot.” “What do you know about pixels?” “You basically heard the extent just now.”

She’s getting better at laughing. The ooze has almost all but disappeared, Emma twirling a strand of hair around fingers that are intent on moving, and it’s an old habit. One Killian’s gaze catches on. Immediately. Quickly. Seriously, Emma needs a thesaurus. “Baseball’s always been my dad,” she says. “And that’s—well, we’ve lived this game, me and my mom, weekend series and West Coast swings, waiting up for him to get home because the flight got delayed, but Henry’s just a kid, getting thrown into this world because of his last name and who his family is? That sucks. Nothing was supposed to happen tonight.” “Nothing did happen.” “Because of you.” “I’d like to believe Scarlet, ridiculously fast as he might be, would not run over a small child,” Killian says. “And, uh, for the record and all that, I got a bad jump off first because I didn’t know if they were going to catch it in left. No one wants to get caught on the base paths.” “Yeah, that’d be embarrassing.”

He must hear the hitch in her voice because the next thing Emma realizes, her fingers are twisted back up in Killian’s, and she’s warm and falling and flying, and it’s good and weird, and the door swings open. 

They both jump.

So, that’s something. 

Rushing out quickly enough that he nearly trips over his own feet, Henry’s head leads the way and finds Emma’s stomach, a tangle of limbs, and overly-excited words, all of which rival the now-finished fireworks display in volume. 

It takes Henry about five and a half run-on sentences to notice Killian standing there. 

His eyes widen. His mouth drops. Killian grins. Emma tries very hard not to die. It only sort of works. 

She blames the faulty body parts she’s in possession of. 

“Killian,” Henry exclaims, clamoring back to his feet and nearly falling again in the process. Hands that belong to both Emma and Killian dart out, steadying Henry while their eyes meet over the top of his head. Killian winks. He tries. It’s more like a blink than anything. “Hi, hi! You did so good tonight! And we won, and I got to go on the field and—and, it was so,” Henry heaves a deep breath, “we were so good.”

Collective pronouns do something to Emma’s entire state of being. 

Flips it on an axis she hadn’t been aware previously existed until it almost feels as if this was the path they’d been directing themselves toward from the start. Her eyes flit toward Killian. Who is already watching her. 

“We did,” he nods, “maybe next time, though, you wait one extra second to grab Scarlet’s bat, ok?” Seeing her own nose scrunch reflected back on her kid is not the worst thing that’s ever happened to Emma. The vibrating phone in her back pocket, might be. 

It’s one-hundred percent, Ruby. 

“That’s what grandpa said too,” Henry grumbles, digging a toe of the cleats Emma’s mother bought him last week into the ground, “but I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall.”

Definitely dying, then. A systematic shut down of all necessary internal organs. It’s not as bad as Emma would have expected. 

Neither one of Killian’s knees crack when he bends. That seems heavy-handed. 

“And I don’t want you to fall either,” he says, “so we agree, right here, right now, not to let the other one fall, huh?” Emma holds her breath. Ignores the pinch in her lungs and the clearly unstable nature of both her mind and her heart, digging her nails into her palms. To ensure she isn’t tempted to haul Henry back toward her. Or push that one strand of hair away from Killian’s forehead. 

Henry nods. “Deal.”

They hook their pinkies together. 

It’s adorable and as endearingly charming as everything else Killian Jones, New York Yankees third baseman, has done since he walked into that hallway. Less so when her dad emerges from the office, the athletic trainer on his heels to not-so-quietly inform Killian that he can’t just blow off post-game like that, and the second wink is as bad as the first. 

She does her very best to memorize the movement. 

And the joy on Henry’s face the next morning when a box arrives on their doorstep, a genuine, game-worn Killian Jones jersey inside. She doesn’t notice the note at first, tucked between the cardboard and the tissue paper someone must have bought for him. He can’t have bought that tissue paper himself. He just—it’s unfathomable. 

Emma knows he bought the tissue paper himself. 

As clearly as she knows that those numbers in that particular order will lead to Killian Jones answering his phone and that her voice likely won’t shake when she replies to the question written in surprisingly loopy script. Which is why, Emma will argue, she does reply. In the affirmative. To several questions over the course of the remaining season, and they don’t star in any more viral videos, but there are a few pictures once they clinch the division. 

Drops of champagne cling to the tips of Emma’s eyelashes and the ends of Killian’s hair, hands on her waist that blaze a quick path up her back and around her middle, and she has to tilt her head up to get the right angles. Of lips. While they kiss in the middle of the clubhouse, the hat someone forced onto Emma’s head falling and it’s impossible to hear over the sound of celebratory fireworks, but she can somehow still hear Henry’s laugh ringing out from the general area near Scarlet’s locker, and his jersey collection is growing at an impressive rate. 

No one can withstand the overall cuteness of him. 

Emma included. Emma, especially. 

Sometimes she worries she’s so happy she’ll burst, unable to contain the sort of emotion her body is still acclimating itself to. But then she realizes just how dumb that is and happiness cannot possibly be quantified, and her head is buzzing enough from champagne that she nearly misses Killian when he says, “people love the bright spots, Swan.” It’s not the most romantic thing he’s told her. Doesn’t crack the top five, quite frankly. She swoons all the same. With her kid laughing and her team winning and that’s about all the sentiment she’s willing to acknowledge before her tongue is in Killian’s mouth. He groans. She grins. 

And he’d been right about the video. It wasn’t the embarrassment Emma worried it could be. Was mostly relegated to the corners of the internet set aside for formerly popular content as soon as the season ended, spoken about only in fond recollection as the other seasons went on and the wins kept coming and all three of them stand on a parade float with the World Series trophy a few dozen feet away, several Novembers after that first game. 

It’s a Thursday afternoon, then. 

And yet Emma never entirely forgets. What the video meant and what it did and she’s not remotely surprised when it finds its way back to the forefront of the sports zeitgeist on a Wednesday in July. Most mentions come with similar taglines and messages. Something about feeling our age and wanna feel old because that bot boy, David Nolan’s grandson, Killian Jones’s stepson, he’s getting drafted now. 

Got drafted, technically. 

Third round, video of the soon-to-be third baseman for the San Diego Padres makes the internet circuits and garners plenty of interest. It’s not the most exciting video, though. Henry just hugs his family. Who hug tightly back. 

What is more exciting is the box that arrives on Emma and Killian’s doorstep. With a note that eventually earns a frame next to the last one and a wholly official, game-worn jersey that has a noticeable streak of dirt across the left sleeve. From sliding head-first into home plate.  

[foxofninetales]

Liu Sang Watcher’s Guide Part 2

Since apparently I am NOT the only person interested in obsessively tracking every single moment that Liu Sang is on screen, have part 2!

Link to part 1 |

My Earthquake Brings All The Boys To The Yard

The Lost Tomb Reboot Season 1

Episode 5:

2:40-6:21

Liu Sang is only robbed of his "best dressed tomb-raider" award by Zhang Qiling's presence.

Wu Xie tries to cope with a pretty pretty man being very competent right in front of his product placement salad.  Liu Sang takes soundings and bosses everyone around except Zhang Qiling, at whom he stares yearningly. 

The difference between you and Liu Sang is that Liu Sang makes awkward product placement look good.

8:11-12:16 Night falls, and Liu Sang makes cow eyes at Zhang Qiling.

Liu Sang, having gotten a fair handle on who he's dealing with here, Says It With Backlit Explosions.  It might be a little Freudian.

Dead birds attack, the ground splits apart, and suddenly Liu Sang discovers exactly why people talk about Wu Xie in That Tone Of Voice.

Pictured: Man regretting his life choices.

14:20-18:09 Now at the bottom of the chasm, Liu Sang trolls the heck out of Wu Xie.  Babe, you really are kind of a jerk sometimes.

Speaking of being kind of a jerk, he tells Wu Xie that he knows he's dying while wearing this very sympathetic face.

This is the first - but hardly the last - instance of Liu Sang seeing right through Wu Xie.  Wu Xie does not like being seen through. Liu Sang begins to realize that Wu Xie might be enough of a bastard to be interesting.

Liu Sang hears Zhang Qiling seconds before he arrives. 

We don't really even need the camera to switch angles to know who shows up because Liu Sang promptly switches into adoring puppy mode. 

Someone in costuming decided to give Liu Sang that black earring and they were doing the Lord’s work.

That is the face of someone realizing that the first rule of working with Wu Xie is "Nothing is ever so bad that it can't get worse".

Maybe falling down like a damsel in distress will get his idol's attention.

It's very effective!

Liu Sang, there is a time and place to try to gaze into your idol's eyes, and when you’re about to crushed by a collapsing chasm isn't it.

*Please feel free to use any of the screencaptures from these LSWG posts for your own purposes - crediting is appreciated but optional.

Gifset posts from this episode:

Liu Sang the fanboy by @kholran​

Liu Sang and his hearing urns by @kholran​

A little Liu Sang ogling by @kholran​

Blowing open the tomb by @kholran​

Next time: First dates, Iron Triangle style

Link to part 3

[hoseas-angry-ghost]

YES YES YES I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR UR THEORIES

Hello anon! I am very surprised anyone wants to hear my chutney but here's my Strange Man Hot Take with some hopefully interesting info for curious parties:

To be honest, R* included so much misdirection around the Strange Man's identity (especially in RDR1) that I'm not *totally* convinced they're married to any one idea. RDR2 also complicated things by introducing new religions into Red Dead's world (Voodoo, Old Norse, etc.): he's no longer limited to just Christian / Western interpretations, as in RDR1, and it's possible R* might try to syncretise him with figures from other faiths (they did place Bayall Edge in Bayou Nwa, where most of the Voodoo stuff is).

At the same time, though, I think RDR2 actually narrowed things down somewhat in terms of the direction R* chose to take his character, and what we were shown of that. There's still a level of misdirection in RDR2, but IMO, it almost comes off as half-hearted in comparison to what was basically trolling in RDR1 -- it seems like they were a lot more focused on playing the "bad news" angle the second time round.

Based on what we know, and on the balance of things, I'm not convinced that the Strange Man is necessarily meant to be any one thing or figure, but I do think he's meant to fulfil some type of Satanic role within Red Dead's world, either in main or in part.

I won't compare and dissect other theories or anything, I just thought I'd list off some things that people might find interesting:

Armadillo. The deal between the Strange Man and Herbert Moon seems to be a pretty textbook Faustian bargain: Moon is offered earthly rewards ("happiness or two generations"), and although the price was (tellingly?) never specified, it seems like the recent Blood Money update for RDO all but confirmed that the cost was probably his soul. Although it's left ambiguous what Moon actually chose, the Armadillo curse was possibly an unforeseen (for Moon) consequence of the deal's terms, which would fit with similar tales of the devil or demon in question taking liberties with their end of the bargain.

In the files, there's some great audio of Moon off the shits and straight-up saying "I've made a deal with the devil, and I will never truly die!" It's possible this was cut for its own reasons (too overt?), but as a lot of stuff was apparently cut from Armadillo, I'm guessing it was either cut when Arthur in New Austin got cut, or it was part of something that R* didn't have time to implement in the epilogue. Either way, if it's not actually in the game then it's not technically canon, but it is an indication of what R* was thinking during development.

There's a lot of audio from the Armadillo townsfolk in general about devils and "devil curses," but the only thing I know of that definitely made it into the game is a line from the town crier ("Devil has the town in his hand").

There's audio of the Armadillo bartender saying "I heard the Tillworths made a deal with the devil to keep from gettin' sick! I don't wanna die any more than the next man, but ain't no safety worth a man's soul." Possibly idle gossip, but given Moon, possibly not.

RDO seemed to flirt with the idea of soul-selling a little bit with Old Man Jones' line "Well, this is America, so anything can be bought -- even souls," but then RDO pretty much just came right out and said it with Bluewater John in the Blood Money update. Bluewater John also apparently made a deal, almost definitely with the Strange Man (given the Moon deal and how close Bayall Edge is to all the drama); he was based on blues musician Robert Johnson and the myth that he sold his soul to the devil for mastery of the guitar. It's basically a rehash of the Moon deal, except it's... not subtle in its dialogue about deals, devils and souls.

"I GAVE EVERYTHING FOR ART, AND I LEARNED TOO MUCH AND NOTHING AT ALL" written on the wall at Bayall Edge also sounds like a reference to another one of these deals to me ("everything" being their soul, and "I learned too much and nothing at all" the foolishness of accepting eternal damnation for temporary knowledge). I think Bayall Edge might have originally belonged to a painter who struck a deal with the Strange Man for artistic skill, but then the Strange Man slowly possessed him or something -- which could be why some of the landscapes depict RDR1's I Know You locations, and why the writings on the wall kind of look like they deteriorate in quality. The puddle of blood at the foot of the portrait might also be linked to this somehow (whose is it?).

It's the deal-making for souls that really pushed the "devil" theory over the edge for me, because I can't think of whose wheelhouse that would be in except a devil's, or someone similarly malevolent.

Alternative name. The Strange Man's character model is called cs_mysteriousstranger in RDR2, and he's referred to as "the mysterious stranger" at least once in RDR1's in-game text. This could be a reference to The Mysterious Stranger, written by Mark Twain between 1897-1908, in which the stranger is a supernatural being called Satan. (At the end of the last version written, he tells the protagonist that nothing really exists and their lives are just a dream.)

Bayall Edge. Bayall Edge was possibly based on a Louisiana urban myth called the Devil's Toy Box, which is "described as a shack. From the outside, it is unappealing and average. ...The inside of the shack consists of floor-to-ceiling mirrors, including the walls. No one can last more than five minutes in this room. ...According to the legend, if you stood inside this mirror-room alone for too long, supposedly the devil would show up and steal your soul." The Strange Man does show up in the mirror eventually, and it's kind of curious that the paintings that change depending on your Honour act as metaphorical mirrors. This was also cut, but in the files, Arthur's drawing of the interior of Bayall Edge is unusually sloppy, like his faculties were impaired or something.

"Awful, fascinating and seductive". John writes this about Bayall Edge after the portrait is finished, and I think that's as good a description of something like the / a devil as any, but "seductive" is a big red flag for me, because it's such an odd choice of word and, from a Christian perspective, it's so loaded with connotations of evil and sin and temptation.

I Know You. Some have pointed out that I Know You in RDR1 resembles the Temptation of Christ, as it also takes place in three separate locations in the desert, and John is given moral tests in which he must choose between higher virtue or worldly vice. John is also, in a weird way, a kind of Christ-like figure in that he ultimately sacrifices his life for others. I do think the "temptation" in these encounters is very surreptitious but very much there ("Or rob her yourself" -- excuse me??), but they may also be operating on a Biblical definition of the word, i.e. a test or trial with the free choice of committing sin.

RDR1 dialogue. I don't want to get *too* much into this because I feel like we're all just getting punked in RDR1, but I think the Strange Man's dialogue broadly fits with something like a "devil" interpretation, or at least doesn't contradict it.

I'm thinking particularly of lines like "Damn you!" / "Yes, many have" (which would work metaphorically but also literally, given that the devil was thrown from heaven by God and his angels), and "I hope my boy turns out just like you" (of all the leading theories, I think Satan is the only figure who's popularly conceptualised as having a son, or prophesied to have a son -- God obviously had a son, but that ship kinda sailed).

I think the "accountant" line refers to Honour (which even uses an invisible numerical system), and how John's fate depends on the number of both good and bad acts he's committed throughout his life, and how these weigh against each other. If the Strange Man likes to collect souls, then he would have a vested interest in auditing you and seeing if your accounts are in the black or the red, as it were (and providing you with opportunities to push yourself further into the latter...), because if you're bankrupt, you're his.

Blind Man Cassidy. Interestingly, Cassidy seems to distinguish between "Death" and the Strange Man, implying that he's something else beyond his understanding: in one of Arthur's fortunes, after his TB diagnosis, he says "the man with no nose [Death] is coming for you," but in one of John's fortunes, he says "Two strangers seek thee: one from this world, perhaps one from another. One brings hatred; I'm not so sure what the other brings."

Arthur's cut dialogue. In the files, there's audio of Arthur having the exact same conversation with Herbert Moon as John in the epilogue, asking about the Strange Man picture because he "just seemed familiar". I think it's interesting that, like John, Arthur also would have apparently recognised the Strange Man despite (presumably) never seeing him before. Given how strong a theme morality is in Red Dead -- and how much both John and Arthur struggle with it -- my theory is that they find the Strange Man vaguely familiar because they're both familiar with the evil within themselves, or the potential for evil; and likewise, the Strange Man "knows" John because he embodies evil in some sense, so is aware of John's worst sins (like his involvement at Blackwater), or possibly even all of his sins (which would be, like, a lot).

Honourable mention: There's such a greater emphasis on conspiracies, myths, etc. in RDR2 that I half-wonder if the Strange Man's RDR2 incarnation was partly inspired by Hat Man (~excuse the link~ but often it's hard to find good sources for the kind of weird shit R* includes in their games).

ANYWAY, this got a little long but I hope someone found all this at least passably interesting. Thanks again for letting me ramble about the video game man, anon!

[dapper-chicken]

Ok so. Carmen Sandeigo season 3.

I mean. It was alright?? I don’t know, I have mixed feelings with this season, and not because it was only five episodes long - I mean, yeah, that part was a let down, but I heard they had issues with budget cuts, so I get it. It just felt like some parts were?? Off?? Idk, here are some of my takes as a writing minor. Spoilers ahead.

- Did something change?? With the writers?? Something about the characters just felt a little skewed, and at some points it felt like they were parodies of their established character. 

- Like, if Zach was kinda one dimensional before he definitely was this season. There was no attempt to give him any kind of personality aside from Dumb Funny Side Character Man. 

- I was sad Julia got sidelined this season, but I think it was a necessary step for her to be able to later be involved with Carmen without ACME holding her back - since she’s putting an art/history degree to use now, it’s very likely Carmen will have to rob the place she works at later on. And, fingers crossed, maybe we can get some JULIA BECOMING A PART OF TEAM RED BAY-BE

- I really appreciated Devineaux coming to his own conclusion about Carmen, that was some good characterization. 

- What was the deal?? With the dialogue?? That’s that only part of the writing I have any problem with. A lot of the lines where Carmen and VILE are doing their usual banter just felt really stiff, and some just didn’t make any sense at all. It felt like they were trying way too hard with some of it, especially with the line “School is going to be cool” being said in a completely serious context was just. Such dogshit writing. 

- Speaking of Sonia (Was that her name??? I don’t remember??) I actually really wasn’t a fan. Like, her character had SO much potential. Her parallels with Carmen and what she could do for the story were so great but. I think it was a combination of bad character writing and bad voice acting that just made the character really stale. A lot of the lines were said with just not the right tone, (i.e. the ‘School is going to be cool’ line, but to be fair there was no saving that line). Idk, I feel like they just threw that character away with how they wrote her. Like, when she saved Carmen on the plane, It was because it was a line she wouldn’t cross, like Carmen said, but it was really kind of out of the blue I guess?? I wish Sonia would’ve been told more about why Carmen was there so she could get a full grasp of what she was getting herself into, and her connection with Carmen would’ve been established more. 

- We stan Shadow-san getting that familial redemption. That episode was the best in the season imo. And NOT just because My Boy was in it (I’ll get to that later). Shadow-san was actually really good this season, I really enjoyed the found family dynamic he has with Carmen and being able to reconcile with his brother. 

- FOUND FAMILY!!!!

- I was surprised at how Halloween based this season was. I see it now that a user pointed it out that it was a way for the writers to use masks as a literal and figurative driving force in the plot, which was actually Really Good so kudos to them.

- Countess Cleo seemed a bit out of character this season. Like, with the scene where they dig into candy she’s straight up eating cheap Halloween candy. Which is. Kind of against everything her character stand for. Indulging in excess fits, but indulging in something that, in her eyes, would be so lower class was really surprising. 

- Also can I talk about the faculty for a sec? I know a lot of people enjoyed the faculty getting really into Halloween but for some reason I didn’t get into it. I feel like a lot of it made the faculty into a kind of comedic relief, which took away from a lot of the threat they’re supposed to have. They didn’t feel intimidating this season, they just felt like they were… There (all except for Roundabout). The dressing up and goofing around felt out of character too. I know it humanizes them a lot, but I feel like an international evil empire isn’t going to put up Halloween decorations, and if they were its going to be Top Of The Line Shit. I feel like going full clown was a little much even for Maelstrom. I feel like they could have gotten the same idea across and it might have even been better if they just gave him a single clown nose on top of his usual attire. It would have made for some (in my opinion) better visual humor. Then again, I have to keep reminding myself that this show is directed at a younger audience and I really shouldn’t be as critical as I am about it given that fact, but they set a really high bar for themselves with season 1. 

- You know now that I think about it the faculty being given some comic relief this season would have been fine if they didn’t drive Zach’s character into the ground for it at the same time. Like, they’re milking Zach for all the not great comic relief they can, and are at the same time trying to do it with the faculty, which just makes everything feel a little campy.

- You know what was great comic relief????

- TIME TO TALK ABOUT THE MAN OF THE HOUR, BOYS.

- LETS TALK ABOUT MIME BOMB. LETS TALK ABOUT MIME BOMB.

- Oh my god. Oh m y go d. This. This guy. When I tell you I laughed at all of Neal and Mime Bombs scenes I am not joking. The dynamic between these two was golden. Just. *Chefs kiss*. 

- Mime Bombs visual humor was fucking outstanding. The miming at the closed window, pretending to untie the boat, just everything he did was so FUCKING GOOD.

- And can we talk about Neal??? Personally I wasn’t a Slime Bomb shipper, but these two were written so well together that I’m actually starting to reconsider. Neal is just so great. He makes every character he’s with all the better, and just has such a great dynamic. 

- FUCK I loved this episode. 

- I love how they made Mime Bomb kinda fugly so they wouldn’t have to deal with the thirst this time around, but y’all FAILED LMAO. 

- I Can And Will Smooch The Mime What About It.

- I like that they didn’t find Carmen’s mom yet. It’s not great how they stop looking after the first episode, but I feel like finding her mom in just 5 episodes would have felt so incredibly rushed. 

- Women wrestling. WOMEN WRESTLING . 

- The final episode was good. You knew Carmen was gonna get out of it somehow but it felt like a nice final episode. It left some good cliffhangers and felt like a nice tie to what was an entirely too short season. Can’t wait to see how ACME handles Gray. 

- I was disappointed some of the OG cast in VILE didn’t get screen time, but it was, again, only 5 episodes, so there really wasn’t anything they could do about it. 

- I am not a fan of The Troll. Like, his character is needed, because eventually VILE would need a natural counter to Player, cause that’s just how things need to play out, but I think he’s going to be a victim of writing. Like, his introduction establishes his ties to internet culture with that glasses drop meme and that in of itself is going to kill this character. Like, I’m so scared he’s going to fall victim to what every show tries to do, and that’s the ‘What’s up fellow cool kids’ (And by that I mean reference internet humor and trends, which will ultimately do nothing but date the show). Like, The Troll has SO MUCH POTENTIAL. WE’VE NEEDED AN EVIL COUNTER TO PLAYER FOR A WHILE NOW BUT DON’T MAKE THAT COUNTER PART A GUY WHO TALKS LIKE HE’S FROM R/INCELS. 

- With all that being said, I really do still care for the show. I was lowkey disappointed with this season but I look forward to seeing what they do in the future and still hold a lot of love for this show in my heart. Fingers crossed for another season!!!

[keeper-not-hero]

MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) - 

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection.  Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void)  - 

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space)  - 

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.)  - 

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance. 

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) - 

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals. 

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 2)

20.  ONWARD – Disney and Pixar’s best digitally animated family feature of 2020 (beating the admittedly impressive Soul to the punch) clearly has a love of fantasy roleplay games like Dungeons & Dragons, its quirky modern-day AU take populated by fantastical races and creatures seemingly tailor-made for the geek crowd … needless to say, me and many of my friends absolutely loved it.  That doesn’t mean that the classic Disney ideals of love, family and believing in yourself have been side-lined in favour of fan-service – this is as heartfelt, affecting and tearful as their previous standouts, albeit with plenty of literal magic added to the metaphorical kind.  The central premise is a clever one – once upon a time, magic was commonplace, but over the years technology came along to make life easier, so that in the present day the various races (elves, centaurs, fauns, pixies, goblins and trolls among others) get along fine without it. Then timid elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) receives a wizard’s staff for his sixteenth birthday, a bequeathed gift from his father, who died before he was born, with instructions for a spell that could bring him back to life for one whole day.  Encouraged by his brash, over-confident wannabe adventurer elder brother Barley (Chris Pratt), Ian tries it out, only for the spell to backfire, leaving them with the animated bottom half of their father and just 24 hours to find a means to restore the rest of him before time runs out.  Cue an “epic quest” … needless to say, this is another top-notch offering from the original masters of the craft, a fun, affecting and thoroughly infectious family-friendly romp with a winning sense of humour and inspired, flawless world-building.  Holland and Pratt are both fantastic, their instantly believable, ill-at-ease little/big brother chemistry effortlessly driving the story through its ingenious paces, and the ensuing emotional fireworks are hilarious and heart-breaking in equal measure, while there’s typically excellent support from Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Elaine from Seinfeld) as Ian and Barley’s put-upon but supportive mum, Laurel, Octavia Spencer as once-mighty adventurer-turned-restaurateur “Corey” the Manticore and Mel Rodriguez (Getting On, The Last Man On Earth) as overbearing centaur cop (and Laurel’s new boyfriend) Colt Bronco.  The film marks the sophomore feature gig for Dan Scanlon, who debuted with 2013’s sequel Monsters University, and while that was enjoyable enough I ultimately found it non-essential – no such verdict can be levelled against THIS film, the writer-director delivering magnificently in all categories, while the animation team have outdone themselves in every scene, from the exquisite environments and character/creature designs to some fantastic (and frequently delightfully bonkers) set-pieces, while there’s a veritable riot of brilliant RPG in-jokes to delight geekier viewers (gelatinous cube! XD).  Massive, unadulterated fun, frequently hilarious and absolutely BURSTING with Disney’s trademark heart, this was ALMOST my animated feature of the year.  More on that later …

19.  THE GENTLEMEN – Guy Ritchie’s been having a rough time with his last few movies (The Man From UNCLE didn’t do too bad but it wasn’t exactly a hit and was largely overlooked or simply ignored, while intended franchise-starter King Arthur: Legend of the Sword was largely derided and suffered badly on release, dying a quick death financially – it’s a shame on both counts, because I really liked them), so it’s nice to see him having some proper success with his latest, even if he has basically reverted to type to do it.  Still, when his newest London gangster flick is THIS GOOD it seems churlish to quibble – this really is what he does best, bringing together a collection of colourful geezers and shaking up their status quo, then standing back and letting us enjoy the bloody, expletive-riddled results. This particularly motley crew is another winning selection, led by Matthew McConaughey as ruthlessly successful cannabis baron Mickey Pearson, who’s looking to retire from the game by selling off his massive and highly lucrative enterprise for a most tidy sum (some $400,000,000 to be precise) to up-and-coming fellow American ex-pat Matthew Berger (Succession’s Jeremy Strong, oozing sleazy charm), only for local Chinese triad Dry Eye (Crazy Rich Asians’ Henry Golding, chewing the scenery with enthusiasm) to start throwing spanners into the works with the intention of nabbing the deal for himself for a significant discount.  Needless to say Mickey’s not about to let that happen … McConaughey is ON FIRE here, the best he’s been since Dallas Buyers Club in my opinion, clearly having great fun sinking his teeth into this rich character and Ritchie’s typically sparkling, razor-witted dialogue, and he’s ably supported by a quality ensemble cast, particularly co-star Charlie Hunnam as Mickey’s ice-cold, steel-nerved right-hand-man Raymond Smith, Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery as his classy, strong-willed wife Rosalind, Colin Farrell as a wise-cracking, quietly exasperated MMA trainer and small-time hood simply known as the Coach (who gets many of the film’s best lines), and, most notably, Hugh Grant as the film’s nominal narrator, thoroughly morally bankrupt private investigator Fletcher, who consistently steals the film.  This is Guy Ritchie at his very best – a twisty rug-puller of a plot that constantly leaves you guessing, brilliantly observed and richly drawn characters you can’t help loving in spite of the fact there’s not a single hero among them, a deliciously unapologetic, politically incorrect sense of humour and a killer soundtrack.  Getting the cinematic year off to a phenomenal start, it’s EASILY Ritchie’s best film since Sherlock Holmes, and a strong call-back to the heady days of Snatch (STILL my favourite) and Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels.  Here’s hoping he’s on a roll again, eh?

18.  SPONTANEOUS – one of the year’s biggest under-the-radar surprise hits for me was one which I actually might not have caught if things had been a little more normal and ordered.  Thankfully with all the lockdown and cinematic shutdown bollocks going on, this fantastically subversive and deeply satirical indie teen comedy horror came along at the perfect time, and I completely flipped out over it.  Now those who know me know I don’t tend to gravitate towards teen cinema, but like all those other exceptions I’ve loved over the years, this one had a brilliantly compulsive hook I just couldn’t turn down – small-town high-schooler Mara (Knives Out and Netflix’ Cursed’s Katherine Langford) is your typical cool outsider kid, smart, snarky and just putting up with the scene until she can graduate and get as far away as possible … until one day in her senior year one of her classmates just inexplicably explodes. Like her peers, she’s shocked and she mourns, then starts to move on … until it happens again.  As the death toll among the senior class begins to mount, it becomes clear something weird is going on, but Mara has other things on her mind because the crisis has, for her, had an unexpected benefit – without it she wouldn’t have fallen in love with like-minded oddball new kid Dylan (Lean On Pete and Words On Bathroom Walls’ Charlie Plummer). The future’s looking bright, but only if they can both live to see it … this is a wickedly intelligent film, powered by a skilfully executed script and a wonderfully likeable young cast who consistently steer their characters around the potential cliched pitfalls of this kind of cinema, while debuting writer-director Brian Duffield (already a rising star thanks to scripts for Underwater, The Babysitter and blacklist darling Jane Got a Gun among others) show he’s got as much talent and flair for crafting truly inspired cinema as he has for thinking it up in the first place, delivering some impressively offbeat set-pieces and several neat twists you frequently don’t see coming ahead of time.  Langford and Plummer as a sassy, spicy pair who are easy to root for without ever getting cloying or sweet, while there’s glowing support from the likes of Hayley Law (Rioverdale, Altered Carbon, The New Romantic) as Mara’s best friend Tess, Piper Perabo and Transparent’s Rob Huebel as her increasingly concerned parents, and Insecure’s Yvonne Orji as Agent Rosetti, the beleaguered government employee sent to spearhead the investigation into exactly what’s happening to these kids.  Quirky, offbeat and endlessly inventive, this is one of those interesting instances where I’m glad they pushed the horror elements into the background so we could concentrate on the comedy, but more importantly these wonderfully well-realised and vital characters – there are some skilfully executed shocks, but far more deep belly laughs, and there’s bucketloads of heart to eclipse the gore.  Another winning debut from a talent I intend to watch with great interest in the future.

17.  HAMILTON – arriving just as Black Lives Matter reached fever-pitch levels, this feature presentation of the runaway Broadway musical smash-hit could not have been better timed. Shot over three nights during the show’s 2016 run with the original cast and cut together with specially created “setup shots”, it’s an immersive experience that at once puts you right in amongst the audience (at times almost a character themselves, never seen but DEFINITELY heard) but also lets you experience the action up close.  And what action – it’s an incredible show, a thoroughly fascinating piece of work that reads like something very staid and proper on paper (an all-encompassing biographical account of the life and times of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton) but, in execution, becomes something very different and EXTREMELY vital.  The execution certainly couldn’t be further from the usual period biopic fare this kind of historical subject matter usually gets (although in the face of recent high quality revisionist takes like Marie Antoinette, The Great and Tesla it’s not SO surprising), while the cast is not at all what you’d expect – with very few notable exceptions the cast is almost entirely people of colour, despite the fact that the real life individuals they’re playing were all very white indeed.  Every single one of them is also an absolute revelation – the show’s writer-composer Lin-Manuel Miranda (already riding high on the success of In the Heights) carries the central role of Hamilton with effortless charm and raw star power, Leslie Odom Jr. (Smash, Murder On the Orient Express) is duplicitously complex as his constant nemesis Aaron Burr, Christopher Jackson (In the Heights, Moana, Bull) oozes integrity and nobility as his mentor and friend George Washington, Phillipa Soo is sweet and classy as his wife Eliza while Renée Elise Goldsberry (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Jacks, Altered Carbon) is fiery and statuesque as her sister Angelica Schuyler (the one who got away), and Jonathan Groff (Mindhunter) consistently steals every scene he’s in as fiendish yet childish fan favourite King George III, but the show (and the film) ultimately belongs to veritable powerhouse Daveed Diggs (Blindspotting, The Good Lord Bird) in a spectacular duel role, starting subtly but gaining scene-stealing momentum as French Revolutionary Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, before EXPLODING onto the stage in the second half as indomitable third American President Thomas Jefferson.  Not having seen the stage show, I was taken completely by surprise by this, revelling in its revisionist genius and offbeat, quirky hip-hop charm, spellbound by the skilful ease with which is takes the sometimes quite dull historical fact and skews it into something consistently entertaining and absorbing, transported by the catchy earworm musical numbers and thoroughly tickled by the delightfully cheeky sense of humour strung throughout (at least when I wasn’t having my heart broken by moments of raw dramatic power). Altogether it’s a pretty unique cinematic experience I wish I could have actually gotten to see on the big screen, and one I’ve consistently recommended to all my friends, even the ones who don’t usually like musicals.  As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t need a proper Les Misérables style screen adaptation – this is about as perfect a presentation as the show could possibly hope for.

16.  SPUTNIK – summer’s horror highlight (despite SERIOUSLY tough competition) was a guaranteed sleeper hit that I almost missed entirely, stumbling across the trailer one day on YouTube and getting bowled over by its potential, prompting me to hunt it down by any means necessary.  The feature debut of Russian director Egor Abramenko, this first contact sci-fi chiller is about as far from E.T. as it’s possible to get, sharing some of the same DNA as Carpenter’s The Thing but proudly carving its own path with consummate skill and definitely signalling great things to come from its brand new helmer and relative unknown screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev.  Oksana Akinshina (probably best known in the West for her powerful climactic cameo in The Bourne Supremacy) is the beating heart of the film as neurophysiologist Tatyana Yuryevna Klimova, brought in to aid in the investigation in the Russian wilderness circa 1983 after an orbital research mission goes horribly wrong.  One of the cosmonauts dies horribly, while the other, Konstantin (The Duelist’s Pyotr Fyodorov) seems unharmed, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s now the host for something decidedly extraterrestrial and potentially terrifying, and as Tatyana becomes more deeply embroiled in her assignment she comes to realise that her superiors, particularly mysterious Red Army project leader Colonel Semiradov (The PyraMMMid’s Fyodor Bondarchuk), have far more insidious plans for Konstantin and his new “friend” than she could ever imagine. This is about as dark, intense and nightmarish as this particular sub-genre gets, a magnificently icky body horror that slowly builds its tension as we’re gradually exposed to the various truths and the awful gravity of the situation slowly reveals itself, punctuated by skilfully executed shocks and some particularly horrifying moments when the evils inflicted by the humans in charge prove far worse than anything the alien can do, while the ridiculously talented writers have a field day pulling the rug out from under us again and again, never going for the obvious twist and keeping us guessing right to the devastating ending, while the beautifully crafted digital creature effects are nothing short of astonishing and thoroughly creepy.  Akinshina dominates the film with her unbridled grace, vulnerability and integrity, the relationship that develops between Tatyana and Konstantin (Fyodorov delivering a beautifully understated turn belying deep inner turmoil) feeling realistically earned as it goes from tentatively wary to tragically bittersweet, while Bondarchuk invests the Colonel with a nuanced air of tarnished authority and restrained brutality that made him one of my top screen villains for the year.  One of 2020’s great sleeper hits, I can’t speak of this film highly enough – it’s a genuine revelation, an instant classic for whom I’ll sing its praises for years to come, and I wish enormous future success to all the creative talents involved.

15.  THE INVISIBLE MAN – looks like third time’s a charm for Leigh Whannell, writer-director of my ALMOST horror movie of the year (more on that later) – while he’s had immense success as a horror writer over the years (co-creator of both the Saw and Insidious franchises), as a director his first two features haven’t exactly set the world alight, with debut Insidious: Chapter III garnering similar takes to the rest of the series but ultimately turning out to be a bit of a damp squib quality-wise, while his second feature Upgrade was a stone-cold masterpiece that was (rightly) EXTREMELY well received critically, but ultimately snuck in under the radar and has remained a stubbornly hidden gem since. No such problems with his third feature, though – his latest collaboration with producer Jason Blum and the insanely lucrative Blumhouse Pictures has proven a massive hit both financially AND with reviewers, and deservedly so.  Having given up on trying to create a shared cinematic universe inhabited by their classic monsters, Universal resolved to concentrate on standalones to showcase their elite properties, and their first try is a rousing success, Whannell bringing HG Wells’ dark and devious human monster smack into the 21st Century as only he can.  The result is a surprisingly subtle piece of work, much more a lethally precise exercise in cinematic sleight of hand and extraordinary acting than flashy visual effects, strictly adhering to the Blumhouse credo of maximum returns for minimum bucks as the story is stripped down to its bare essentials and allowed to play out without any unnecessary weight.  The Handmaid’s Tale’s Elizabeth Moss once again confirms what a masterful actress she is as she brings all her performing weapons to bear in the role of Cecelia “Cee” Kass, the cloistered wife of affluent but monstrously abusive optics pioneer Aidan Griffin (Netflix’ The Haunting of Hill House’s Oliver Jackson-Cohen), who escapes his clutches in the furiously tense opening sequence and goes to ground with the help of her closest childhood friend, San Francisco cop James Lanier (Leverage’s Aldis Hodge) and his teenage daughter Sydney (A Wrinkle in Time’s Storm Reid).  Two weeks later, Aidan commits suicide, leaving Cee with a fortune to start her life over (with the proviso that she’s never ruled mentally incompetent), but as she tries to find her way in the world again little things start going wrong for her, and she begins to question if there might be something insidious going on.  As her nerves start to unravel, she begins to suspect that Aidan is still alive, still very much in her life, fiendishly toying with her and her friends, but no-one can see him.  Whannell plays her paranoia up for all it’s worth, skilfully teasing out the scares so that, just like her friends, we begin to wonder if it might all be in her head after all, before a spectacular mid-movie reveal throws the switch into high gear and the true threat becomes clear.  The lion’s share of the film’s immense success must of course go to Moss – her performance is BEYOND a revelation, a blistering career best that totally powers the whole enterprise, and it goes without saying that she’s the best thing in this.  Even so, she has sterling support from Hodge and Reid, as well as Love Child’s Harriet Dyer as Cee’s estranged big sister Emily and Wonderland’s Michael Dorman as Adrian’s slimy, spineless lawyer brother Tom, and, while he doesn’t have much actual (ahem) “screen time”, Jackson-Cohen delivers a fantastically icy, subtly malevolent turn which casts a large “shadow” over the film.  This is one of my very favourite Blumhouse films, a pitch-perfect psychological chiller that keeps the tension cranked up unbearably tight and never lets go, Whannell once again displaying uncanny skill with expert jump-scares, knuckle-whitening chills and a truly astounding standout set-piece that easily goes down as one of the top action sequences of 2020. Undoubtedly the best version of Wells’ story to date, this goes a long way in repairing the damage of Universal’s abortive “Dark Universe” efforts, as well as showcasing a filmmaking master at the very height of his talents.

14.  EXTRACTION – the Coronavirus certainly has threw a massive spanner in the works of the year’s cinematic calendar – among many other casualties to the blockbuster shunt, the latest (and most long-awaited) MCU movie, Black Widow, should have opened to further record-breaking box office success at the end of spring, but instead the theatres were all closed and virtually all the heavyweights were pushed back or shelved indefinitely.  Thank God, then, for the streaming services, particularly Hulu, Amazon and Netflix, the latter of which provided a perfect movie for us to see through the key transition into the summer blockbuster season, an explosively flashy big budget action thriller ushered in by MCU alumni the Russo Brothers (who produced and co-wrote this adaptation of Ciudad, a graphic novel that Joe Russo co-created with Ande Parks and Fernando Leon Gonzalez) and barely able to contain the sheer star-power wattage of its lead, Thor himself.  Chris Hemsworth plays Tyler Rake, a former Australian SAS operative who hires out his services to an extraction operation under the command of mercenary Nik Khan (The Patience Stone’s Golshifteh Farahani), brought in to liberate Ovi Mahajan (Rudhraksh Jaiswal in his first major role), the pre-teen son of incarcerated Indian crime lord Ovi Sr. (Pankaj Tripathi), who has been abducted by Bangladeshi rival Amir Asif (Priyanshu Painyuli).  The rescue itself goes perfectly, but when the time comes for the hand-off the team is double-crossed and Tyler is left stranded in the middle of Dhaka with no choice but to keep Ovi alive as every corrupt cop and street gang in the city closes in around them.  This is the feature debut of Sam Hargrave, the latest stuntman to try his hand at directing, so he certainly knows his way around an action set-piece, and the result is a thoroughly breathless adrenaline rush of a film, bursting at the seams with spectacular fights, gun battles and car chases, dominated by a stunning sustained sequence that plays out in one long shot, guaranteed to leave jaws lying on the floor.  Not that there should be any surprise – Hargrave cut his teeth as a stunt coordinator for the Russos on Captain America: Civil War and their Avengers films.  That said, he displays strong talent for the quieter disciplines of filmmaking too, delivering quality character development and drawing out consistently noteworthy performances from his cast.  Of course, Hemsworth can do the action stuff in his sleep, but there’s a lot more to Tyler than just his muscle, the MCU veteran investing him with real wounded vulnerability and a tragic fatalism which colours every scene, while Jaiswal is exceptional throughout, showing plenty of promise for the future, and there’s strong support from Farahani and Painyuli, as well as Stranger Things’ David Harbour as world-weary retired merc Gaspard, and a particularly impressive, muscular turn from Randeep Hooda (Once Upon a Time in Mumbai) as Saju, a former Para and Ovi’s bodyguard, who’s determined to take possession of the boy himself, even if he has to go through Tyler to get him.  This is action cinema that really deserves to be seen on the big screen – I watched it twice in a week and would happily have paid for two trips to the cinema for it if I could have.  As we looked down the barrel of a summer season largely devoid of blockbuster fare, I couldn’t recommend this enough.  Thank the gods for Netflix …

13.  THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 – although it’s definitely a film that really benefitted enormously from releasing on Netflix during the various lockdowns, this was one of the blessed few I actually got to see during one of the UK’s frustratingly rare lulls when cinemas were actually OPEN.  Rather perversely it therefore became one of my favourite cinematic experiences of 2020, but then I’m just as much a fan of well-made cerebral films as I am of the big, immersive blockbuster EXPERIENCES, so this probably still would have been a standout in a normal year. Certainly if this was a purely CRITICAL list for the year this probably would have placed high in the Top Ten … Aaron Sorkin is a writer whose work I have ardently admired ever since he went from esteemed playwright to in-demand talent for both the big screen AND the small with A Few Good Men, and TTOTC7 is just another in a long line of consistently impressive, flawlessly written works rife with addictive quickfire dialogue, beautifully observed characters and rewardingly propulsive narrative storytelling (therefore resting comfortably amongst the well-respected likes of The West Wing, Charlie Wilson’s War, Moneyball and The Social Network).  It also marks his second feature as a director (after fascinating and incendiary debut Molly’s Game), and once again he’s gone for true story over fiction, tackling the still controversial subject of the infamous 1968 trial of the “ringleaders” of the infamous riots which marred Chicago’s Diplomatic National Convention five months earlier, in which thousands of hippies and college students protesting the Vietnam War clashed with police.  Spurred on by the newly-instated Presidential Administration of Richard Nixon to make some examples, hungry up-and-coming prosecutor Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is confident in his case, while the Seven – who include respected and astute student activist Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and confrontational counterculture firebrands Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Succession’s Jeremy Strong) – are the clear underdogs.  They’re a divided bunch (particularly Hayden and Hoffman, who never mince their words about what little regard they hold for each other), and they’re up against the combined might of the U.S. Government, while all they have on their side is pro-bono lawyer and civil rights activist William Kunstler (Mark Rylance), who’s sharp, driven and thoroughly committed to the cause but clearly massively outmatched … not to mention the fact that the judge presiding over the case is Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella), a fierce and uncompromising conservative who’s clearly 100% on the Administration’s side, and who might in fact be stark raving mad (he also frequently goes to great lengths to make it clear to all concerned that he is NOT related to Abbie).  Much as we’ve come to expect from Sorkin, this is cinema of grand ideals and strong characters, not big spectacle and hard action, and all the better for it – he’s proved time and again that he’s one of the very best creative minds in Hollywood when it comes to intelligent, thought-provoking and engrossing thinking-man’s entertainment, and this is pure par for the course, keeping us glued to the screen from the skilfully-executed whirlwind introductory montage to the powerfully cathartic climax, and every varied and brilliant scene in-between.  This is heady stuff, focusing on what’s still an extremely thorny issue made all the more urgently relevant and timely given what was (and still is) going on in American politics at the time, and everyone involved here was clearly fully committed to making the film as palpable, powerful and resonant as possible for the viewer, no matter their nationality or political inclination.  Also typical for a Sorkin film, the cast are exceptional, everyone clearly having the wildest time getting their teeth into their finely-drawn characters and that magnificent dialogue – Redmayne and Baron Cohen are compellingly complimentary intellectual antagonists given their radically different approaches and their roles’ polar opposite energies, while Rylance delivers another pitch-perfect, simply ASTOUNDING performance that once again marks him as one of the very best actors of his generation, and there are particularly meaty turns from Strong, Langella, Aquaman’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (as besieged Black Panther Bobby Seale) and a potent late appearance from Michael Keaton that sear themselves into the memory long after viewing. Altogether then, this is a phenomenal film which deserves to be seen no matter the format, a thought-provoking and undeniably IMPORTANT masterwork from a master cinematic storyteller that says as much about the world we live in now as the decidedly turbulent times it portrays …

12.  GREYHOUND – when the cinemas closed back in March, the fate of many of the major summer blockbusters we’d been looking forward to was thrown into terrible doubt. Some were pushed back to more amenable dates in the autumn or winter (which even then ultimately proved frustratingly ambitious), others knocked back a whole year to fill summer slots for 2021, but more than a few simply dropped off the radar entirely with the terrible words “postponed until further notice” stamped on them, and I lamented them all, this one in particular.  It hung in there longer than some, stubbornly holding onto its June release slot for as long as possible, but eventually it gave up the ghost too … but thanks to Apple TV+, not for long, ultimately releasing less than a month later than intended.  Thankfully the film itself was worth the fuss, a taut World War II suspense thriller that’s all killer, no filler – set during the infamous Battle of the Atlantic, it portrays the constant life-or-death struggle faced by the Allied warships assigned to escort the transport convoys as they crossed the ocean, defending their charges from German U-boats.  Adapted from C.S. Forester’s famous 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by Tom Hanks and directed by Aaron Schneider (Get Low), the narrative focuses on the crew of the escort leader, American destroyer USS Fletcher, codenamed “Greyhound”, and in particular its captain, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks), a career sailor serving his first command.  As they cross “the Pit”, the most dangerous middle stretch of the journey where they spend days without air-cover, they find themselves shadowed by “the Wolf Pack”, a particularly cunning group of German submarines that begin to pick away at the convoy’s stragglers.  Faced with daunting odds, a dwindling supply of vital depth-charges and a ruthless, persistent enemy, Krause must make hard choices to bring his ships home safe … jumping into the thick of the action within the first ten minutes and maintaining its tension for the remainder of the trim 90-minute run, this is screen suspense par excellence, a sleek textbook example of how to craft a compelling big screen knuckle-whitener with zero fat and maximum reward, delivering a series of desperate naval scraps packed with hide-and-seek intensity, heart-in-mouth near-misses and fist-in-air cathartic payoffs by the bucket-load.  Hanks is subtly magnificent, the calm centre of the narrative storm as a supposed newcomer to this battle arena who could have been BORN for it, bringing to mind his similarly unflappable in Captain Phillips and certainly not suffering by comparison; by and large he’s the focus point, but other crew members make strong (if sometimes quite brief) impressions, particularly Stephen Graham as Krause’s reliably seasoned XO, Lt. Commander Charlie Cole, The Magnificent Seven’s Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Just Mercy’s Rob Morgan, while Elisabeth Shue does a lot with a very small part in brief flashbacks as Krause’s fiancée Evelyn. Relentless, exhilarating and thoroughly unforgettable, this was one of the true action highlights of the summer, and one hell of a war flick.  I’m so glad it made the cut for the summer …

11.  PROJECT POWER – with Marvel and DC pushing their tent-pole titles back in the face of COVID, the usual superhero antics we’ve come to expect for the summer were pretty thin on the ground in 2020, leading us to find our geeky fan thrills elsewhere. Unfortunately, pickings were frustratingly slim – Korean comic book actioner Gundala was entertaining but workmanlike, while Thor AU Mortal was underwhelming despite strong direction from Troll Hunter’s André Øvredal, and The New Mutants just got shat on by the studio and its distributors and no mistake – thank the Gods, then, for Netflix, once again riding to the rescue with this enjoyably offbeat super-thriller, which takes an intriguing central premise and really runs with it.  New designer drug Power has hit the streets of New Orleans, able to give anyone who takes it a superpower for five minutes … the only problem is, until you try it, you don’t know what your own unique talent is – for some, it could mean five minutes of invisibility, or insane levels of super-strength, but other powers can be potentially lethal, the really unlucky buggers just blowing up on the spot.  Robin (The Hate U Give’s Dominique Fishback) is a teenage Power-pusher with dreams of becoming a rap star, dealing the pills so she can help her diabetic mum; Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one of her customers, a police detective who uses his power of near invulnerability to even the playing field when supercharged crims cause a disturbance.  Their lives are turned upside down when Art (Jamie Foxx) arrives in town – he’s a seriously badass ex-soldier determined to hunt down the source of Power by any means necessary, and he’s not above tearing the Big Easy apart to do it. This is a fun, gleefully infectious rollercoaster that doesn’t take itself too seriously, revelling in the anarchic potential of its premise and crafting some suitably OTT effects-driven chaos brought to pleasingly visceral fruition by its skilfully inventive director, Ariel Schulman (Catfish, Nerve, Viral), while Mattson Tomlin (the screenwriter of the DCEU’s oft-delayed, incendiary headline act The Batman) takes the story in some very interesting directions and poses fascinating questions about what Power’s TRULY capable of.  Gordon-Levitt and Fishback are both brilliant, the latter particularly impressing in what’s sure to be a major breakthrough role for her, and the friendship their characters share is pretty adorable, while Foxx really is a force to be reckoned with, pretty chill even when he’s in deep shit but fully capable of turning into a bona fide killing machine at the flip of a switch, and there’s strong support from Westworld’s Rodrigo Santoro as Biggie, Power’s delightfully oily kingpin, Courtney B. Vance as Frank’s by-the-book superior, Captain Crane, Amy Landecker as Gardner, the morally bankrupt CIA spook responsible for the drug’s production, and Machine Gun Kelly as Newt, a Power dealer whose pyrotechnic “gift” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Exciting, inventive, frequently amusing and infectiously likeable, this was some of the most uncomplicated cinematic fun I had all summer.  Not bad for something which I’m sure was originally destined to become one of the season’s B-list features …

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Artemis Fowl

Since the early 2000s, Artemis Fowl has been languishing in development hell, and it really is a mystery as to why. The series has everything you could possibly want for a blockbuster young adult franchise: it’s a charming blend of science and fantasy with rich worldbuilding and mythology, it has enjoyable and even complex characters who go through great character arcs over the course of the series, it has an enjoyable major antagonist, an insufferable smug villain protagonist who goes through a stellar redemption arc over the course of the series, and tons of crazy heists that combine scheming and fairy magic. There was no reason this couldn’t have existed as a competitor to the Harry Potter series, but alas, it was not to be. The young adult fantasy franchise languished for decades in development hell, until finally Disney pulled it out and put Kenneth Branagh at the helm. Finally, we were going to get the Artemis Fowl adaptation we deserved!

Except we didn’t.

Artemis Fowl is legitimately one of the worst adaptations of any work of fiction ever. It has been held up alongside The Last Airbender and The Lightning Thief as part of the Unholy Trinity of terrible adaptations, and I’m not even going to try and pretend that this “Honor” isn’t well and truly earned. This film is an utterly abominable bastardization of the beloved franchise, to the point where this feels like an entirely different story that had familiar names slapped on it at the last second. If you want to know what horrific extents this film has butchered the story and characters, read onward, but there’s no way I’m going to pretend this film isn’t awful right off the bat.

There is literally nothing in this film that works. Nothing at all. Starting from the opening scene, the establishing shots, you can tell things are wrong – there are news people around Fowl Manor? Mulch is being interrogated? What is going on? The film from the word go is simply making one thing absolutely and abundantly clear: this is not the Artemis Fowl you know. The film goes out of its way to do the opposite of the franchise, merely using names and vague concepts in an attempt to sucker fans into watching it. Butler’s first name, an emotional reveal from the third book, is common knowledge; Opal Koboi, a cunning and threatening major villain who was the antagonist for almost every novel starting with the second, is here reduced to basically a personification of the voice on the phone from Scream; Root, once a short-tempered man who was hard on Holly as a method of tough love to push her to be the very best LEP had to offer to prove women belonged on the force, is here a woman who, while just as angry as ever, robs Holly of a major part of her arc and reduces her to plucky female sidekick. And even outside of that, as its own thing, the movie is just utterly incomprehensible. The story is rushed and confusing, with lots of exposition and action but with no context or cohesion. Things happen and things go from scene to scene, but none of it makes any sort of sense. A character will switch allegiances within a few minutes, characters will somehow find a way to survive deadly attacks offscreen… the worst offender is a character death they try to push off as emotional, despite there being no reason to care for this character, and when all hope seems lost, a deus ex machina saves the day! My wife, who is unfamiliar with the series, and I, a huge fan, both struggled to figure out what was going on at any given point; the movie is really that bad at communicating what is happening, which is even more baffling because the film is a pathetic hour and a half in length, a distressingly short amount of time to establish a new science-fantasy franchise of this scale.

The characters are almost all terrible. Artemis is the standout with how awful he is; no longer the cunning criminal masterminds of the book, Artemis here is more of a somewhat smug little brat who is overly emotional and, worst of all, NICE. He’s so nice in fact that by the end of the film he has managed to speedrun his character development and arcs with Mulch and Holly, who consider him their close friend and ally. Butler is pretty bad here as well, mostly because he is given almost nothing to do and is seemingly only there because he was in the book. In fact, his crowning moment – when he took on the troll – is instead given to Artemis and even Holly, with Butler ending up severely injured. It’s a bit nasty that they changed Butler to be black and then had his (white) master steal his greatest moment; it’s giving me flashbacks to Kazaam. Opal is hit pretty bad as well; being made the big bad of this loose adaptation of the first book’s plot – which is amusingly one of the few books she had absolutely no role in – wouldn’t be so rough if she was more of a presence and not just some vague, hooded figure who threatens Artemis over the phone and generally does nothing to warrant being an adaptation of the baddest bitch in the series. She’s rather ineffectual and they even try and give her a sort of sympathetic motivation, one where she resents humans for pushing her kind underground. It really is a disgusting waste of a character who could easily rival heavy hitters like Voldemort in the awesome and theatrically evil department.

Holly is almost okay, but her entire arc and a big chunk of her narrative purpose is robbed by making Commander Root a woman. Root, played by Judi Dench, is honestly one of the better characters since Dench has Root dropping lines like “Top o’ the morning to ya” with gravelly deadpan seriousness which makes the character unintentionally hilarious, but the cheap laughs don’t really make up for butchering the story of one of fiction’s finest ladies. As a side note, they have made Holly 100% white despite her skin being described as nut brown rather frequently in the book, and the now white Holly together with Artemis steal away Butler’s biggest moment. And that’s not even getting into how they neutered Juliet, who has also been race lifted but was turned into a child who barely appeared in the film. I’m not usually one to toss about racism accusations, but there’s a lot of red flags here that Branagh’s usual colorblind casting just doesn’t excuse.

The most consistently enjoyable performance is Josh Gad’s as Mulch. From the moment he was cast, I knew he’d do a good job and capture the spirit of the character, and he does! ...sort of. The decision to have Mulch be a giant dwarf and narrate the story in a crappy Batman impression while also violating literally the most important law of fairy culture (don’t tell the humans anything about us) by spilling the beans to M16 is unbearably stupid, and a lot of his jokes are just relentlessly unfunny. But I think that Gad does leak a bit of that Mulch charm at a few points, and it’s apparent he at least somewhat gets his character, which is not something that can be said for anyone else in this film. Sadly, much like his standout performance as Lefou in the live action Beauty and the Beast, he can’t possibly save the trainwreck of a film he’s in.

I guess I’m not entirely surprised by this film. I mean, a lot of quality young adult literature from the past two decades has been horrifically mangled in the wake of Harry Potter – Inkheart, The Golden Compass, The Lightning Thief, Ender’s Game, and Eragon – so this movie really isn’t an anomaly. But it is the culmination of a horrible trend. This is the zenith of horrible young adult adaptations, or perhaps I should say the nadir of adaptations as a whole? For all the flak I could give those other adaptations, on some fundamental level they still understood something about the source material. Ender’s Game still understood it could not erase the ending where children are revealed to be being conscripted to perform the ethnic cleansing of an alien race. Eragon couldn’t completely ruin Saphira, try as it might. The Lightning Thief… well, I mean, I guess the Medusa scene was mostly faithful. But Artemis Fowl? Artemis Fowl goes out of its way to be the opposite of its literary counterpart that there is no way to justify even saying it is based on the book by Eoin Colfer; it would be like having a movie about kids hanging out at the mall and doing mundane stuff, except they’re all named Jesus and Peter and Paul and then saying it’s based on the Bible. Just using names doesn’t mean anything, you actually have to use the themes and characterizations too, and this movie does none of that.

This movie is most comparable to The Emoji Movie. Neither of these works really deserve to be called a “Film” since they are basically whatever it is they’re trying so desperately to be stripped down to the bare essentials. The Emoji Movie is the most basic, by-the-numbers animated adventure film with a “be yourself” message you could ever hope to see, with a story so absolutely basic that just watching the trailer will allow you to predict the every motion of the plot. Artemis Fowl on the other hand is the most cliche-ridden fantasy epic franchise-starter you could imagine, and that’s if you’re able to penetrate the ridiculously dense and cluttered story and are able to make sense of what’s going on. I can think of absolutely no one this film could ever appeal to. There’s not a single redeeming thing about it. The movie is flashy, trashy junk that should never have been released, and Disney honestly did the right thing by releasing this on their streaming service because it would be outright disgusting to charge movie ticket prices for this tripe. The fact Disney has more faith in the eternally-delayed New Mutants theatrically speaks volumes about the quality of this film.

I can’t in good conscious say that this is the worst film of all time. F4ntastic is probably a much worse butchering of characters than this film; Disaster Movie is much more horrendously offensive and unfunny than this; hell, Chicken Little is probably a worse Disney movie because as awful as everyone in this film is, at least they aren’t Buck Cluck! But I don’t think there’s a single movie I hate more than this one. Lucy can finally move over and sleep easy knowing that the fact it’s not based on a pre-existing work has finally saved it from the #1 spot on my worst list; Artemis Fowl is now the reigning champ. Kenneth Branagh should be ashamed of himself for making and releasing this (and doubly ashamed for having the gall to unironically compare his slaughtering of Artemis Fowl’s character to Michael Corleone), Disney should be shamed for putting more money into this film than they did into BLM charities, and I hope that Eoin Colfer finds whatever he was paid worth it to see his greatest creation butchered and disrespected like this.

[raimonsters]

was thinking about oc!kat while out for a drive earlier and accidentally took a massive detour cuz my sense of direction is ass lmao

along w. all my other trolls, im keeping her backstory semi-open so if friends wanna b like ‘hey can we have this relationship in this verse too’ (which im cool w. both having ships exist in both verses, or keeping them to troll verse only), so atm kat’s relationships are between only my ocs for now

kat and maagni still dated (mostly likely during high school, but a lil after kat dropped out), though since the quadrant system probably won’t exist in this verse as much as i like it, their relationship was more just a generally dysfunctional felt-pressured-to-get-together-because-everyone-is-dating-at-this-age kind of one. they got along most of the time, but still had their arguments and shoddy communication. they broke up after one fight that resulted in maagni accidentally losing control of his fire powers and burning kat, and while there’s still some resentment there the incident is a good 5+ years in the past so they’ve moved on and are completely different people now. maagni realised he was being a shitty person and actively went about bettering himself, and katrin is still katrin so she wallowed in misery and wrote fanfic

kat and kybern still had their incidents, which is rly not much different to troll verse except for the fact his tormenting didn’t start till either after kat and maagni broke up or just before. who cares he’s still dead in the verse rich entitled cunts have no rights

idk if kat knows eichio and viltau in this verse, seeing as she wouldn’t have as many mutual relations to vil as she does in troll verse. though it’s still pretty likely she’d come across eichio if he’s out running errands, but i think she might just have exactly 2 more braincells in this verse to not attempt to rob the mansion owned by a demon

kat and sorrel (soroll) are still good friends, and probably were neighbours growing up. sorrel moved out at one point, luckily before he was forcibly recruited into a gang so his parents aren’t in danger (and he tries to keep it a secret from them). kat hangs out at his place a lot, and if it weren’t for the gang thing she would’ve moved in with him

and unique to this verse, kat and aisling are siblings. they’ve sorta grown apart over the years as kat feels bad that she’s not a good role model to her younger sibling and considers herself to be a blight on the family (being a high school dropout who puts more effort into her pickpocketing than she does her minimum wage job, while aisling is a 2nd year law+criminology student with an internship at the local police department). of course aisling and their parents love and care for her as families should, but no one really knows how to approach kat about seeking help for her depression and anxiety

[galaxygukk]

tomorrow in tokyo

◣ 2 HEAVEN LETS UP ◥

genre: slice of life, romance, friendship, soulmate au type shit, college au

pairing: park jimin x oc (erika)

summary: in which park jimin is a lost soul in tokyo, and a certain girl pushes him through her heart and the city with an exasperated huff and a humoring smile. or “16:34, 11th November 2019. Remember it.”

a/n: jimin is pretty.

The air is still

For a second. One long, aching second, I want to ask this boy who he is. Why he came to the door of a young girl with a heart half-broken and more snacks than feelings at this point in her life. But the wind is swift enough to blow his silvery strands across his forehead and make his blue jacket rustle and let his sincerity shake me to my core.

He doesn’t sound like he said it for a dare. A joke. He sounds like what I feel when I tell Neha that I wouldn’t know how to breathe properly without her. All softness and genuine words that come out in a whoosh of air that could look like stardust.

“Erika.”

The boy’s eyes crinkle at the corners like paper of a dissatisfied writer. Except there’s nothing dissatisfying about it, and I’m no writer. His fingers travel to his face and he pinches his mask between two small fingers laden with simple silver rings. He pulls it down to rest over his chin, revealing a face I’m sure will haunt my dreams the next few weeks.

“Jimin.”

He steps forward, the tiniest step possible, and towers over me. He sighs. It’s a wistful one.

“I was in love with the idea of you. Now it’s just you. All you.”

I hardly understand, but I trust by the shake in his voice that he does. My heart doesn’t skip beats or gallop like romance novels say hearts do when you’re met with something that could change your world. Jimin’s does. I can hear it with the whistle of the wind and the huffs of his breath over my head, making music I could use as a lullaby.

“How?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.

How what? I ask myself. How he fell in love with me? How he even knows me? How he knows where I live? How I’m accepting this so easily?

“I saw you crying across the road from here. On the way up to your apartment, you stayed by your door for a full hour and cried and cried and you were so, so beautiful. I wanted nothing more than to take you home with me and give you a life laden with gold. I couldn’t sleep thinking about you. Didn’t even realize I was awake because I dreamt with my eyes open. I... I don’t know if that’s love but I want to love you. I want to, so much.”

Now my heart picks up. I tilt my head to meet his eyes, and there’s a flush over his cheeks and the very tip of his nose. My feet are cold from the outside air but Jimin’s body, which had stepped most of the way into the doorway, shelters me from the rest of the discomfort out of my blankets and my couch.

This could be a ploy. He could be a serial killer or an Asian Ted Bundy. He could only be saying things like this, things that make my stomach erupt in a swarm of sparrows flying together in the sunrise sky, only to rob me of everything I have and leave.

Or. He could not.

I think back to the day he’s talking about. The day I left a park bench in quick strides and broke down in sobs on the train back home. Dear god, I was such a mess.

“Jimin,” I try his name on my tongue. Is that even his real name? “That was the day a man broke me.”

“Then let me fix you.”

His eyelashes flutter as his eyes slip closed. “Fuck it all if I sound like a madman. An insensitive prick trying to make a move on a vulnerable girl— but this feeling? It’s not leaving. I can’t do a fucking thing anymore without thinking about the girl hiding behind the succulents on her windowsill.”

I look at him then. Really do. How the long strands of his silver hair catch onto the ends of his pretty eyelashes. How I can see myself reflected in the rich hazel of his almond eyes. How his cheeks fluff upwards to his eyes with the slightest bit of a smile and his tiny crooked tooth hiding behind pillowy lips naturally coloured like pink roses bathed in a dusky hue.

He’s breathtaking.

He continues. “Erika.” My name rolls off his tongue like honey. “I could be the disappointment of your life or the best thing that’s happened to you. For all the connotations my old-man hair gives off, I’m a person of black or white.” I glance at his gray hair again. “There’s no in between and right now it’s either give us a chance or lose the chance of a lifetime.” I don’t realize he’s stepped closer until one of his hands takes my fingers into his palm and the metal of his rings is cool against my skin. “Love at first sight? That shit happens. Who would’ve thought?”

I smile, because I don’t quite know what to say or what to do or what to think. Our fingers are intertwined now, and I’m quite sure that it’s the gentle squeeze he gives me and the warmth of his fingers that pulls me out of my reverie.

“You talk a lot,” I note. I don’t add that I do too— usually. Not right now. What am I supposed to say now?

Jimin smiles, accentuating just how handsome of a face he has behind straight white teeth save for that little imperfection in the front that I seem to find so endearing in my head. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t quite know how to phrase is, with the apparent shift in his nervous hazel eyes and locked jaw.

My heart beats at a mile a minute when I pull my hand back from his and set my palm against his cheek. Soft skin and softer eyes. I can hear his breath hitch under the unrelenting wind, like my hand evoked a sudden full stop in his running thoughts.

“Are you serious about this?” I ask gently, channeling the soothing voice Neha uses to coax me into seeing reason when I’m being impulsive. It dwells on me that standing here in front of Jimin, I am everything that is not what I usually am— calm and reserved and overall quiet. His words shut off any semblance of foolery I’ve had in me and emptied me out of unhealthy coping mechanisms until I’m just a shell of feelings and thoughts that don’t leave unless I drink them away.

Jimin nods, one step short of vigorously. “I don’t know if it’s love or curiosity. But it has something to do with you,” he says, sounding exhilarated in a way that makes me smile wider.

Give it a try, Erika, I say to myself.

“You’re kind of an idiot for not approaching me like a normal human being and taking me out and making me fall in love with you,” I chastise lightheartedly. “But what do you want to do now?”

Jimin is nervous. He’s a pretty boy, but the way his emotions display so clearly over his face makes him that much more stunning to look at. I notice that despite his distinctly asian features, all this time he’d been speaking in English, without a trace of an accent.

“I want to know more about you. Little things that could make me love you more, put a person behind the heart I seemed to have taken a liking towards,” Jimin says shyly. I huff a small laugh.

“This could very much just be some type of spur-of-the-moment confession. Just interest and not love. I could be the most boring person you’d ever met,” I tell Jimin earnestly, eyes wide and feeling somewhat hopeful that no, he won’t care. He’s willing to give it a try. Still.

He takes a step back from me and opens his arms wide, blue jacket that’s too big for his lithe frame rustling in the breeze, and he grins a roguish grin that makes my insides churn not unpleasantly. What was God thinking making someone like him?

“Fuck it,” Jimin says with a smile. Crude words from the sweetest pair of lips I could imagine.

Within a second, I’m returning his grin.

“Does... Does this look too hippie?” Neha asks me, words only a rush of breath as she gestures to the flowy semi-translucent dress you’d only find in Barbados-themed magazines. It’s a bit odd for a date out in Tokyo in fall, but it suits her.

“Neha, you’re a hippie,” I remind her lightheartedly. A pout forms on her lips at my response but she turns back to inspect herself in her antique mirror nonetheless. She smooths down the sides of her dress over the curves of her waist wordlessly, as though thinking more about something more pressing than her dress.

“I think he’ll like it...?” She says, almost to herself.

“Wear what you like, dummy,” I say.

I’ve never seen Neha like this, truth be told. She’s always quiet confidence and so self-accepting— seeing her get nervous about something as trivial as her looks (which are top tier either way, if I do say so myself) makes me honestly wonder how special this date really is for her. How special the guy is for her.

She’s only ever been in one other relationship that I know of before this. It was with an older man who bought her coffee every morning and took her to dates in restaurants neither of us could pronounce the names of. Sugar daddy type but younger than the usual one. That seemed to be her cup of tea— young but accomplished and financially stable, someone who treated her like the princess she is because all she ever does is give to others.

But he was married, and Neha was heartbroken.

I imagine this one must be similar to that. Probably polished to the boot and showing up everywhere in tailored suits and a black Lambo. Hopefully not married this time.

I push myself off her bed and wrap my arms around her arm, looking at her reflection in the mirror. The turquoise beads around her neck and the blinding white of her dress makes her skin look more like honey than ever. She’s a beauty. “You look stunning, Neha,” I say earnestly, grinning from ear to ear. “Damn, how do you manage going out in public with a troll like me?” I joke.

Neha tuts in a chastising voice. “You’re no troll, Eri. You overshadow anything a lost soul could call beautiful. It’s about time you realize it too.”

I haven’t told her about Jimin yet— if I had I’d joke about how he’d seen me for everything good that I’m not already. Lately it’s been less my thoughts that keep me up late into the night, and more Jimin playing twenty questions with me at 1am over text.

I shake my head. “I’m gonna go make myself a sandwich. You want?”

Neha grimaces. “I don’t think I’d be able to stomach it with all the nerves, but thank you for the offer. Eat well.”

With a light tap on her head, I make my way to the kitchen and rummage though the fridge for everything edible I can slap between two slices of bread. In the midst of spreading mayo over some leftover chicken from the roast Neha made last night, my phone dings in my pocket.

My heart is in my throat when I fish it out of my jeans and open the screen. It’s Jimin. Asking me to meet up with him later today.

Oh god.

Besides the first day a few days ago, we hadn’t seen each other again physically. It was all text. And now, the potential of meeting him again sees to be unreal. I was half sure that I was texting no one and that the first meeting was just a figment of my half-assed imagination desperate for some semblance of love in my life.

I’m about to thumb out a reply when the doorbell rings. Neha swears in the other room.

I grin widely, throwing my phone on the counter and reaching for the door before Neha has a chance to get it, ready to make yet another posh man uncomfortable about his gelled hair.

I pull the door open, smile still wide and proud, but stop short.

Because in the doorway, is a man nothing like I’d ever imagined would catch Neha’s attention. So big, with shoulders the span of my forearms and arms twice the size of mine. He’s well and close to six-feet tall and built to the bone, so much so that the simple white v-neck he sports can hardly leave anything to the imagination. His hair is dark and long enough to look artfully messy, like he’d run his fingers through the stands to ruffle it a million times on the way here.

And wow, he’s pretty.

But what surprises me the most are the tattoos. They creep down his hands from under the cuff of his dark gray jacket and wrap around his exposed collarbone. There’s a small flower printed onto the delicate arch of his cheekbone under shadowy, round eyes.

“Uhm, hi,” he says shyly. I catch the tips of his ears turn a steady shade of pink under his dark hair. His voice is soft, sweet in contrast to his intimidating appearance.

“Hi,” I say. “Who are you?”

The boy — man? — flushes again and brings up a hand to ruffle his locks nervously. He gives me a small smile that’s equal parts cute and unnerving. How is his face so different from the rest of him?

“Uh, actually I’m here for ... Neha? My name’s—“

“Jeongguk.”

We both turn simultaneously to see Neha standing there, hands clasped together in front of her and hair done in a pretty updo that makes her face look all the more magnificent. She looks positively exhilarated at the sight of the man in the door, eyes as wide as her smile.

I step back from the door as she comes forward hurriedly, arms spread out. Jeongguk accepts her embrace happily, lips spread in a grin that gives him the semblance of a bunny. His arms wrap around her small waist almost without a thought, pressing her to him as his face buries itself in her neck. Neha laughs sweetly and runs her fingers through his hair.

It feels like an invasion of privacy to watch how they cling to each other, so I return to the kitchen without a word. How long have they known each other to hold on like that?

Neha is the one to pull away first, although with great amount of effort. My heart is fluttery in a way that tells me I’m happy and nervous for her, for the bright stars in her hazel eyes and the wide smile adorning her face. One of her arms stays around “Jeongguk’s” shoulder while the other tucks back strands of hair behind her ear delicately.

“Erika,” she says happily, “this is Jeongguk, my boyfriend. He’s from Korea.”

“Oh wow,” I say. Boyfriend. Already? “It’s great to meet you, Jeongguk!” And it is, to some extent. “I’m Erika. You planning to take good care of Neha while u kidnap her for the day?” My tone is joking, playful, but I give him a steady stare that has his brow furrowing slightly. Yet there’s understanding in his eyes.

“Sure will, ma’am,” he grins roguishly. It makes him look more like a boyish college dropout than ever.

Neha steps over to me and gives me a quick, tight hug. She smells like honey and coconuts, but there’s something new under her natural scent— perfume? “I’ll be back by midnight,” she promises. “Don’t stay up too late and eat something healthy, okay?”

I roll my eyes, muttering a little “yes, mom” under my breath. She chuckles and presses a kiss to the tip of my nose. “I love you, Eri.”

I return her soft words with similar ones of my own and watch her leave our quaint shared apartment, hand in hand with a boy who throws me a pleasant smile and mouths “thank you” for god knows what. But I’m glad he did, because I deserve to be thanked.

Jimin calls me for the first time ever. It’s been a week since the day I read his texts about wanting to meet up, and just hadn’t found the courage or the right words to reply or— say anything, actually.

My heart runs a whole circuit in my chest, pressing discomfortingly against my rib cage as I pick up my phone with unsteady fingers and pause my episode of Brooklyn 99 haltingly.

I stare at his name. The letters seem to mesh together and deform after a few seconds, and that is when I swallow my fears and swipe my thumb across the screen.

I say nothing.

Jimin breathes a sigh on the other end after a time. Then, finally,

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I reply, voice barely a whisper.

A second pases. Then two.

“What are doing right now?” Jimin asks. His voice is low and soothing, the type of tone you would use when you’re beckoning a small creature in the woods your way, afraid it’ll flee with the slightest loud sound. There’s some rustling on his end, as though he’s busying himself with something other than the lack of my response.

“Nothing much.” Dear god, I am bland. “...You?”

There is a laugh; slightly exasperated. “I’m actually at a skating rink right now. I know this is really sudden and all but— you don’t think you could come down here, could you?” he asks in a tone so hopeful I pull the phone away from my ear, press a hand to my heart and inhale deeply.

“Right now?” I ask incredulously.

“If you can, yeah.”

I look up at the time— the infamous clock above the stove reads ten to 9.

“Aren’t all the skating rinks supposed to be closed now? It’s a Sunday,” I point out, but nevertheless I am pushing my blankets aside and escaping into my room to change out of my bright yellow pajamas into something more agreeable with the breezy weather outside.

“Actually, I have the keys to this one, so we should be okay.” There’s a sound similar to a Velcro strap opening. “Does this mean you’re actually coming?”

He’s hopeful again.

I smile to myself. “Sure thing. Text me the address, I’ll be there in ten.”

[margridarnauds]

fandomswillruinmylife replied to your post “grendelsmilf: u know those shows that are so full of potential but...”

Why do you wanna rewrite merlin? I’m on S4E9 (when lancelot comes back from the dead) and it’s good so far (except for Morgana, my baby does not deserve to suffer like this)

Alright, so I’ll TRY not to spoil you too much. 

For me, personally, the show never lived up to its premise, nor did it really....have a consistent view on its own morality? It’s generally acknowledged that Uther did a Very Bad Thing when it came to relentlessly persecuting sorcerors, but then, time after time again, Merlin refuses opportunities to either end or diminish that persecution or to kill Uther, even in circumstances where Uther’s death wouldn’t have been directly tied to magic. Merlin ultimately ended up caring more for ARTHUR and Arthur’s wellbeing than his own people, and unfortunately, Arthur never proved himself worthy of that kind of loyalty. Which could have been a FASCINATING take on an unreliable narrator and the development of a narrative over time, but the writers unfortunately didn’t have the self-realization to realize what they were actually writing on the page. Again, I’ll avoid MAJOR spoilers, but during the time he’s king...a lot’s discussed, the audience is told many things about how he’s A Better Man Than His Father, but then we never really SEE it, just like we’re expected to believe that Gwen and Arthur are True Love™ because the soundtrack decided to add in Swelling String Music in the background. 

And...really...

Look, I GET that the fandom loved Merthur. I really, really do. But at the same time, they never really rise BEYOND the “Hahaha stupid servant” thing. It’s very, very funny when one person tosses things at another, hits them, belittles them, etc., because it’s two guys, amiright! Sometimes, there are these little moments where they come close, and it’s cute (and then the writers pull back), but ultimately? I would say it’s fairly toxic, as a relationship. And normally, I don’t particularly care, because so many things that I ship are absolutely wretched, but this is someone who Merlin’s willing to risk his people for? There’s no...development. There’s this ongoing cycle of taunting, “Oh, look, Arthur’s not a complete tool after all,” and then...whoops, back to Square One because lol emotions are funny. I guess my main thing is: If they’re going to be friends, you have to SHOW them as friends, and you have to show them evolving beyond the servant/master dynamic. Because otherwise, watching a character getting ordered around by someone that’s supposed to be a friend? Isn’t really my cup of tea. Note: BY THE SECOND EPISODE, Arthur was canonically willing to believe Merlin when he was like “lol Valiant’s a little bitch.” Because the writers certainly did in later seasons. 

The treatment of Morgana, you’ve already pointed out. She deserved better as a character; she had SO much potential, but they left her fall to the equivalent of flipping a switch. And...personally, I got TIRED of how sanctimonious the cast could be towards her. Arthur and Merlin can preach about how she should rise above years of Uther’s abuse to her, but ultimately...that was HER experience. Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin ALL suffered at Uther’s hands, but...coming from experience, the way that a given victim will react to an abuser can vary. She’s ALLOWED to be angry. You don’t HAVE to love your abuser, or forgive them, or wish them well, and after what she was put through? Also, I’ll never forgive the writers for making the scene where Merlin POISONS HER about his pain.  “Oh, look at our woobie protagonist, he’s crying :(” YEAH, AND MORGANA’S CHOKING TO DEATH RIGHT NEXT TO HIM, TRYING TO GET AWAY BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T WANT HER WOULD-BE MURDERER TOUCHING HER. 

I’m calm. I’m calm. 

That Fucking Dragon. Get rid of it. If you can’t develop your main cast’s relationships organically and have to rely on Destiny™, you can’t write. IF you’re going to keep That Fucking Dragon, then at least let him be a LEGITIMATELY shady character. Like, Merlin goes from “OH SHIT KILGARRAH’S OFF HIS SHITS AND IS GOING TO BURN CAMELOT TO A CRISP. WHO KNEW HE HAD AN AGENDA ALL ALONG?” to “Ah, well, I’m going to take this action because my BFF Kilgarrah said so.” There’s no real consistency there. 

Also the inconsistencies with Mordred, but I’ll skim that since you’re not there yet. Suffice it to say, they could have split him into two separate characters and it would have done very little. They never knew WHAT to do with the damn kid. 

Okay, but strictly speaking, what I would change: 

The timeline. That’s it. The show stretched itself out too much, ESPECIALLY with Uther. Look, I love Anthony Head, I love Anthony Head as Uther. He’s a delightful asshole who even has a few moments of sympathy despite being a genocidal asshat. 

But Uther had to go. There’s a REASON why most Arthurian adaptations begin with the death of Uther, and that’s because, as long as he’s around, things are kept static. Merlin stumbles around, trying to save the day, Prince Arthur alternates between heroism and prattishness, usually within ten seconds of one another, he and Gwen look longingly at one another as Swelling String Music Plays, Morgana smirks...nothing CHANGES. 

Ergo, you’ve got to get rid of Uther ~S1-2. I lean towards S2, so you can get a little time to develop him/his relationship to Arthur and The Igraine Drama. Cut The Troll Episode, cut a few other filler episodes, and just. Kill Uther. That gives you time to develop Arthur as a KING, while also not making the switch to King Arthur seem jarring. Spend some time on the magical ban, have Merlin GENUINELY try to do something for people like him. I’d probably set The Magic Reveal around S3-S4, with the last episode of the series being the establishment of the Golden Age of Camelot, with Merlin being appointed Court Magician.

 Sometime in those few extra seasons, I WOULD like to see Morgana have an arc of her own. Not even necessarily a full REDEMPTION arc, because I’m not sure there’s anyway for her and her brother/the court of Camelot to be on solid terms, but at least something where she has to really...figure out what’s best for her people, as a High Priestess. She can’t TRUST Arthur and Merlin, but they’re also offering a way out. One of the common things I’ve seen people argue about her sloppy writing was that Morgana HAD to be evil because that’s part of the Arthurian myths, but the figure of Morgan le Fay’s been very flexible throughout the years; in her first appearances, she was benevolent. I would like to see her THERE, having reached a truce with the others. Just as Arthur rises to the kingship, she gains power in her own way. There’s no need to take it to Camlann.

Gwen and Arthur....I would put more threads of it in S1. I’m not sure it would EVER be my Number 1 ship, because it has Arthur in it, but the DEVELOPMENT needs to be there. And, whatever happens with her and Lancelot, I wouldn’t have them being FORCED into it by Morgana. For me, that completely annihilates the pain of Arthur/Gwen/Lancelot. If Uther can make vague references to keeping Morgana’s mother company while Gorlois was away, I THINK the audience can handle Gwen having conflicting feelings towards two men. Maybe Arthur’s different now that he’s king, not the more carefree prince she knew who turned her from a maid to a queen. Maybe the kingdom’s under invasion, maybe he’s finding out that his father left far more of a mark than he thought and he has to reconcile the fact that he STILL loves his father with knowing that the man was a monster, maybe he doesn’t EXACTLY understand the amount of pressure she’s under to be The Perfect Queen, since the court will take any opportunity it can to rip her apart. And she loves him, of course she does, and she’s grateful to him, but Lancelot’s there, and he’s concerned for Arthur too, and he understands what it’s like to rise above his station. I’m not asking for a full on soap opera storyline, but IF you’re going to put Lancelot/Guinevere in there, then you have to do it in a way that respects the characters rather than just ticking points off a checklist. (Especially given that the show completely went away from Arthurian myth at various points, so it’s not like they HAD to bring it in. And the lovely thing with Arthuriana is that you can bring in or take out pretty much whatever you want; the genre is endlessly adaptable.)

Also, we were robbed of a Merlin-style Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. ROBBED. (Christmas special, anyone?)

[bigfrozenfan]

The Disney FROZEN II Teaser Trailer Mania - Part 2

Sorry, but I just can't hold it back ... it just has to get out of me :-)

What we can probably assume so far: 1. It is undoubtedly clear that all of our friends from Arendelle travel together to the far-off destination, because in the penultimate scene of the teaser they are all standing side by side on the hill, all still blithely, in eager anticipation. Anna's look at Elsa may mean that she wonders if they'll all find the answers down there in the valley they're looking for, while Elsa is probably already thinking about the next steps. Kristoff does not look very enthusiastic, rather annoyed and somehow "more ignorant" than the other two.

2. It is also clear that at some point they are all separated from each other and have to extant more or less dangerous adventures, including two attacks. Once with a kind of pink forcefield (it does not look like a fire!) and once through an ambush attack. They may have split theirself to the remaining three directions to get the answers faster. There must be a good reason for this trip. If so, Olaf seems to accompany Elsa, he is already standing next to her on the hill (see also my theory Part 1).

3. The Journey of all of them is most likely to begin in Arendelle, when Anna, still in her normal outfit and with her braids - probably she's the first of all the others and completely surprised - sees the floating crystals scattered around the castle.

Referring to a small but very interesting detail in the YouTube video from my previous post, I now come to my second, expanded theory. Disney probably gave us a hidden clue! Namely Anna's bag or its contents, which we see in the teaser, as she sits desperately in the cave.

So here's my theory and I have to look back some time: It can be assumed that Anna was often enough bored in her youth without Elsa as a playmate and therefore she moved alone through the castle, ultimately perhaps landed even in the (secret?) castle library. Well, you know, where Anna's father, King Agnarr, pulled the book of trolls off the shelf shortly after Anna was struck by Elsa's ice blast. Aside from knowing exactly what he was looking for, it may well be that years later Anna discovered exactly this book, partially translated it  (possibly with the help of other books) or remembering the runes inside this book later.

When one evening (or is it in the morning?) these crystals appeared in front of the castle and four of them strangely glimmered, Anna possibly recognized the four different symbols on it. Does Anna remember the book of the trolls at that moment? Is this perhaps even an old prophecy or a mystery of the trolls, that have something to do with Arendelle at the time of her parents and maybe even wherefrom Elsa has her innate powers? Does Anna remember subconsciously that once an old troll robbed her of some of her memories? Maybe even more than that?! 

As far as we know Elsa has never told her this fact and maybe in the second part of Frozen we will see when Elsa Anna finally opens up and an honest discussion between the two takes place.

I mean, that with her father and the trolls is very strange, isn't it? From where does King Agnarr know about the trolls? At least he knows immediately which book he has to look for. How does he know about the truth about Elsa's powers and that one cannot only be born with it but also - according to the old troll - could be cursed with it? Let us recall an illustration in this book, an "injured knight laid on a stone slab" (?). Is this also about the ancestors of the royal family? Does it know Agnarr therefore, only from old books? Queen Iduna is also not very surprised during her visit to the trolls, or she is too absorbed in her own thoughts about care for her daughter.

What did Disney hide from us for six years long, after Frozen? Why does Disney at first make cryptic hints in the form of a book, inscribed with Nordic runes, which is obviously about the healing of a person who was carried off by a power that can only be undone by trolls that turned to stone and much much more...many secrets. And then there is nothing anymore? Not even an outcoupling as story in one of the countless Disney Frozen books? There's more behind it, in my opinion.

Lately, I wonder how long Disney has actually been working on a possible sequel to Frozen in secret, or at least seriously playing with that thought. A sequel that clarifies issues as important as Elsa's origin of her powers, or what trolls and their abilities are all about. Disney hasn't overseen what the fans thought and what they wanted further to know, that's for sure. The fact that the fans were thinking in a very different direction with #giveelsaagirlfriend, has surely surprised Disney a bit. However, clarifying the characters' past and parentage is more than worthy of being told in a sequel... it's also fitting to that Frozen II feels much more "epic"!

Therefore I additionally would like to get rid of the following: Trolls who not only can resurrect themselves from their state of being stones, but also have an "Elder" among them who has the ability to look to the future - except for his healing and telepathy abilities at Anna and Elsa. Even the "smallest" of them seem to be able to create brightly colored crystals (note: troll wedding scene with Anna and Kristoff, to that I'll come to later, and Frozen - Northern Lights).

Who knows ... maybe the trolls are not as nice and friendly as we thought so far and they have taken Kristoff under himself just to keep him away from sharing their big secret with other people, maybe they even manipulated him. After all, Kristoff has secretly observed the meeting of the royal family with the trolls, and perhaps this - apart from the sovereigns of Arendelle - may not be found out by anyone in the human world! Bulda said to Kristoff and Sven when they were discovered by her: "I'll keep you, cuties ...!". Is Bulda in fact perhaps a guardian of the trolls, because she was the only one who did not change herself from stone to troll and kept far outside the meeting? What about Oaken? Next to the door of his shop are two figures of trolls, does he know the secret, or is this just decoration, the depiction of a myth?

When I think about it, I suddenly can bring in something else in this context: Elsa's gloves, which she got from her dad, supress her powers to the outside, but not her shoes (the scene when Elsa ran across the fjord and let froze it)! Did Agnarr get these gloves from the trolls and does the gloves have a kind of magic in it that deprives Elsa of her feelings? "Do not feel, conceal" ... such a significant sentence that Elsa's father said to her! 

Elsa has a whole chest full of these gloves in the attic of the castle (Olaf's Frozen Adventure), which would last for a lifetime. 

Why? Well, because they are nowhere to buy! Nobody can tell me that a woman does not follow fashion, not even Elsa, and wears the same gloves all her life, if they were not treated in any magical way. And Elsa has their powers reasonably under control later (maybe therefore the storage below the rooftop?) 

The special chains in the castles dungeon, with that Elsa was detained could not be forged overnight on behalf of Prince Hans, therefore they must have been prepared already years before by KIng Agnarr. Only he and Iduna knew about Elsa's abilities. Was that at that moment, Elsa began to suspect where these special handcuffs had come from?

Questions, questions and more questions... I would really appreciate it if the puzzle would transform to a whole picture soon!

[doomedandstoned]

Meet Corey G. Lewis, The Dude Who’s Bringing Grunge Back

~By Jamie LaRose~

Art by Ben House

With the new album sinking into our consciousness, 'Deathspiration' (2018) by The Misery Men invokes the necessity to dig a bit deeper into the creative processes behind its craft. I had the chance to follow-up with Corey G. Lewis, mastermind of the music, and take a glimpse at the band's evolution as portrayed by sound. Deathspiration was recorded and mixed by Steve Jones of Ancient Warlocks at Big Sound Productions in Seattle, and features Jones as drummer.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

The intro track is reminiscent of reflections, leading into a blasting presence of a second track. This album seems to tell a diverse story, can you explain some of the inspiration behind Deathspiration?

Well the intro track is sort of an homage to Neil Young’s Dead Man soundtrack. I’m also really into Dylan Carlson and EARTH. Before I discovered Earth, I’d always described The Misery Men as, Western Doom Noir. That’s evolved into me describing it as Stone Drone. Nevertheless it’s reminiscent of the space between the notes, and the chaos that occurs. The song Sughrue is about C.W. Sughrue, a character from the book Last Good Kiss by the late great James Crumley, also an old friend. Sughrue is a Private Dick that goes off looking for missing woman. “Like a train” barreling down the highway, from Montana to Mexico.

Oh, most importantly, the inspiration behind Deathspiration is the evolution of me as a human. The cathartic shedding of skin. "Harnessing the Darkness" and riding the waves. Sometimes I feel we might be desperate to reach death, to know the truths, while we attempt to be inspired to live life, as we pass through all the adversity, and perspiring blood, sweat, and tears in these moments of our existence.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Do you have any secrets of sound to share? What types of techniques present The Misery Men persona?

My secret sound really is simplicity, and the ghost of Leo Fender haunting my amp. I run a 70’s Music Man 112 RP 65-watt amp with an EV bass speaker, through a 2x12 THD Cab, with a phaser pedal, and a Little Big Muff. A wall of fuzz, that is grizzly, meaty, and punchy. I don’t really try to be the tone guy, but I get more compliments about my tone than anything else.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

"Night Creeps In" presents itself to me as the vertex of the Deathspiration story, it feels ritualistic and defining. Are there any rituals you perform while in the writing process?

This song in particular was written after a girl I was dating for only a week, told me she was going to kill herself. It was pretty heavy, and at the time she texted me, I was walking past Lone Fir Cemetery and wrote her, “sometimes the night creeps in, looking wretched weak and thin. Smiling with its meathook grin.” It was a very heavy experience. When I wrote this song about seven years ago, I was just really getting deep into Dax Riggs of Acid Bath. He’s definitely had a big impact on my music writing since moving to Portland.

Deathspiration by The Misery Men

Aside from the release of Deathspiration, are there any other exciting current happenings with The Misery Men?

We played at Dante’s not long ago with Chris Newman Deluxe Combo. Chris is quintessential to the Portland rock scene and to the whole Pacific Northwest in general. He is famous for his band Napalm Beach, who released their first album in 1981. Without Napalm Beach, The Wipers, and Dead Moon, well Seattle “Grunge” just wouldn’t sound the same. We might all still be playing Hair Metal!

Officially, Deathspiration has been out since last December, but this week it will launch on all digital platforms worldwide. This fall around September or October, expect a new two-part album to drop digitally, recorded by Witch Mountain and The Skull’s own Rob Wrong! It’ll feature 3-4 different local bass players and a couple local drummers, all guitars and vocals have been recorded, and bass/drums will be done by July/August. So far, we've got interest from bass players Billy Anderson (yes, the famous Sleep producer), Matt Howl (Mammoth Salmon), Wayne Boucher (Troll), and Jaden Mcginiss (Legendary Peavy owner, Doorman, Boudicca). All of this will be recorded in Rob’s basement, the same basement Elliott Smith practiced in.

I decided that my second album needed to be done sooner than later, after the 1st was seven years in the making. Deathspiration was recorded in Seattle with Ancient Warlocks drummer Steve Jones, I’m very happy with the way it turned out, it was analog with no filters, no frills, just my raw intensity. The second though I feel needs to be done here in Portland, it is after all according to Greg Sage, DoomTown. Unlike the first one, it’ll be all digital, but still raw and real, capturing my live performance sound. I’m also likely going to have a variety of drummers on the album playing different songs, perhaps even some legendary Portland drummers!

This week I begin practicing with a new drummer for two upcoming gigs. On Saturday, July 6th, we'll be playing with Chronoclops and Stereo Creeps from Seattle at Misdemeanor Meadows in Portland. It's a free show. Then on Friday, July 26th, The Misery Men will be rocking Gil's Speakeasy for a $5 show that includes The Sleer and Breath. I'm Working on gigs for August on through the Fall.

Do you have any memories of childhood that are notably similar to your current state of mind? What type of things about your childhood self were spot-on about who you become? What was your favorite toy?

I knew I’d always wanted to be a Rock n’ Roller or an actor in films. Like pretty much as long as I could remember. I dressed up almost every Halloween as a Punk Rocker in the '80s. My first concert of grand scale was Poison and Warrant 1989, in Bozeman, Montana -- I was in 5th grade. That show changed my life. I also dug rocks in my grandparent’s backyard, but not for pleasure -- my grandfather took advantage of child labor! I’m a rocker through and through. I think I’ve followed my dreams pretty spot on.

Favorite toys were probably GI Joe’s, Star Wars, or my SEGA Genesis. I also built wood swords from fence posts and painted them with finger nail polish as a kid. Think I may have accidentally got high!

What was the moment when you could feel music has become a part of your life? How has writing music helped you, and those around you?

Well, ever since I could remember music was a part of my life. Listening to my mom’s old tapes and records as a kid really impacted me. I was always surrounded by music, my grandparents owned a Rock n’ Roll bar I’m the ‘60s, '70s, and '80s, called The Wrangler Bar in Livingston, MT. It’s featured in the film Rancho Deluxe about some wild young cattle rustlers, starring Jeff Bridges, and Sam Waterson. There’s a scene with Jimmy Buffett playing "Livingston Saturday Night" while Jeff and Sam play Pong. I’ve played that same machine as a kid! There was always a jukebox, I loved playing Jefferson Starship's "We Built This City," Joan Jett's "I Love Rock n’ Roll," Ozzy's "Bark at the Moon," Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" and "Hell Is For Children," and Billy Squire's "The Stroke"!

In 7th and 8th grades, I really was into The Doors, The Beatles, Hendrix, and I was in a English class for kids who couldn’t really focus on reading Lord Of The Rings. In this class our teacher would have us listen to our favorite music at home, then with the feelings we got, write our own poetry. I often listened to Hendrix, especially Axis: Bold As Love and Electric LadyLand, so there were plenty of references to fantasy in my early lyrics. This really helped me learn to become a lyricist, and take an interest in poetry. Most importantly, it gave me an outlet. Around the same time, I got heavy into Henry Rollins. When I saw the video for "Liar" with Hank all painted red, I thought, “I wanna be that guy!” I bought Get in The Van and it became my Bible. All the while I was into Nirvana, Alice In Chains, and Soundgarden.

Is there a way to describe when you feel most productive or most relaxed? How is your state of mind best explained while writing music?

I’m most productive when I feel inspired. Or when the Sun is out and I’m well rested. I like the Sun, except in extreme heat, then I wanna murder the Sun. I was born at night, so I’m a Moon child. I definitely get more inspired and productive writing at night. A few years ago when I was reworking an old song that turned out to be Harness The Darkness, I took a wee bit of LSD or mushrooms -- I’m more of a microdose kind of guy -- found myself going down some deep wormholes to connect a lot of dots that would go on to make up the six verses of the song, that I eventually dropped into four, because it was the most exhausting song to play! I’m a Beatnik kid. I got into the Beat style of writing early on. So, letting the stream of consciousness come flowing out seems to work well for me. I can keep a pretty decent rhyme or off rhyme too.

What is the most peculiar thing that anyone has ever said to you?

Hmmmm. Can you keep a secret? From experience, always tell them no, because sometimes people will lay some heavy shit on you, and maybe you didn’t want to be that person to carry their burden. I’m not a Priest, or a therapist, sometimes it’s fine to listen to friends, but there’s some things you can’t unhear or unsee!

Do you have a message for the universe?

I call it the "Megaverse," as coined by quantum physicist Leonard Susskind -- but my message is to be real, be compassionate, be loving, be forgiving, be understanding, be courageous, be ever evolving, and in the words of E.T.: “Beeeeee Gooooooddd.”

The Great Misery Men Giveaway!

Don't miss your chance to add the gritty album Deathspiration to your library! Grab one of the Bandcamp codes below (first come, first served) and redeem it right here.

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[sockablock]

Up on the Roof of the Wagon 

a tribute to Molly, 3,636 words, gen, Read on AO3

• • •

“Do you ever think about dying?”

Yasha turned her head slowly to the lazy shape of Molly seated beside her, up on the roof of their squat, weathered travelling wagon. He had his arms out behind him, leaning against his palms and gazing at the sea of stars above. His coat was draped across his lap like a blanket and his posture was peaceful, pensive.

“Why?” Yasha asked. “Are you...er…considering dying, any time soon?”

He laughed, and shook his head. “No, no gods, of course not. I was just...curious. I mean, you always run headfirst into battles with bandits and highwaymen. And while all of us are forever appreciative of your fighting capabilities, sometimes I wonder if you’re ever worried about yourself.”

Yasha considered this for a moment. Then she shrugged. “Why be worried? We are only alive for so long anyway. I seek the thrill of battle, the energy of a fight, and if I am protecting my companions at the same time then why concern myself with fear? All it can do is hold you back and distract you from the things in life that you are trying to live for.”

Molly was quiet as he let her words sink in. He turned to her, and grinned.

“You really are quite clever, aren’t you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not many people have said that to me before.”

Molly scoffed, and pointed a finger under her nose. “Then not many people have ever really gotten to know you, dear! Luckily,” he added, thrusting a thumb towards his chest, “this tiefling has. And he’s pretty sure you’re his favorite.”

Yasha chuckled at that. “I am quite lucky then, aren’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” he grinned. Under the moonlight, for just a moment, his eyes glowed a soft, fading red. “I think I’m pretty lucky too.”

•

“Gods,” Molly sighed as he collapsed onto the bed. “That was a rough day, eh?”

Fjord nodded, raising his foot onto the chair by the door to unlace his boots. “It sure was. Did you even know scorpions could get that big?”

“Absolutely not,” Molly said. “Nice of the town to let us stay the night for free, though.”

“It was the least they could do,” Fjord shrugged, and moved to his other shoe. “That was way too much effort for a bunch of random folk out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Aw, Fjord, don’t you believe in doing kindness for kindness’s sake?”

Fjord snorted and turned to face Molly. “Sure I do,” he said, “but I’d prefer it if we also got paid for it. Especially if we almost died fightin’ the damn blighters.”

“Ah, but we didn’t die,” Molly said, waggling a finger. “That’s the important bit.”

“So you don’t care that Nott got tossed into the air by a giant set of pincers and that another one almost ate me?”

“Sure I do,” Molly grinned, echoing Fjord’s tone from before. “But she did a flip and landed on the thing’s head and shot a crossbow bolt through its eyeball right afterwards, and you’re still standing here, aren’t you?’

Fjord rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s true. Though I still think we could stand to be a bit less reckless.”

“Ah, that I agree with,” Molly nodded. “Next time we shouldn’t let Jester run ahead like that.”

“Definitely.”

Fjord made his way over to the patch of floor next to Molly and spread his bedroll down on the wood. He stretched, and in an instant went from vertical to horizontal and eyes closed, spread-eagle on the ground.

“I’m exhausted,” he muttered, and turned over onto his stomach. “G’night, Molly.”

“Good night, Fjord,” Molly called from three feet up. “Don’t let the scorpions bite.”

“I don’t plan on it, thanks,” Fjord replied. And soon after, they both fell asleep.

•

“Bullshit,” said Molly as he sat at the back of the wagon with Beau. “You can’t just change the game like that as we’re playing.”

“I didn’t change it,” Beau said, though there was an element of satisfied smugness in her tone. “You just didn’t ask.”

“So you mean because I didn’t ask if there were any hidden rules, it’s my fault for not knowing that horses were worth twice as much as cows?”

“Exactly,” Beau agreed. “ 'My Cow' is a traditional, time-honored, travelling classic. I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, what with being on the road so much and all.”

“Usually we have better things to do while we’re travelling,” Molly said. “Like making sure there aren’t bandits, or practicing our shows, or playing games that aren’t dumb.”

“This game isn’t dumb,” Beau said defensively, “it's childhood.”

“Oh? I thought you said you didn’t have a childhood?”

“Nah, I had one, it just wasn’t mine.”

He gave her a long, long stare. The sprawling hills of the countryside slowly rolled by.

“One day we’re going to unpack all of that,” he said. “I don’t care about your past but every once in a while you say something that makes me start to.”

She shrugged, and smirked. “You can try, Tealeaf, but I ain’t openin’ up to you. Beau’s story is for people she likes.”

“People you like? So what, you mean Yash—” Molly began, but was abruptly cut off as Beau slammed a hand over his mouth and glanced panickily behind them at the rest of the group.

Everybody else was napping peacefully under the bright afternoon sun. Except for Fjord, at the reins, who grinned and winked knowingly at them both before turning back to the road.

“Fuck you,” Beau grumbled. “Not cool.”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “You’re both adults, aren’t you? What, you can’t admit you have a crush?”

Beau sunk lower in her seat. “So what if I can’t?” she asked. “What’s it to you?”

“Yasha is my best friend,” Molly shrugged. “I have a personal stake in this.”

“I wish you didn’t,” Beau muttered. “That would make this so much easier.”

“Just talk to her,” Molly sighed, and fell backwards into the cart to stare up at the blue sky and the trailing clouds. “It’ll make this so much less awkward, and so much less painful for me to watch.”

“I can’t just do that!” Beau hissed. “Are you crazy? You never tell a girl that you like her.”

“Who said that?” Molly demanded.

Beau shrugged. "Dunno. It’s just common knowledge, I guess.”

“I don’t think it’s knowledge so much as stupidity,” Molly snorted. “You have to tell people these things, don’t they have a right to know? And if you never do anything, you could miss your chance.”

“Miss my chance? What, you mean lose her to some other chick?”

“Or man, or neither, you don’t know what Yasha prefers. And anyways, I was referring to the fact that we could die tomorrow.”

Beau gave him an incredulous stare. “That’s...that’s a joke, right?” she asked eventually. “Right?”

“Of course not,” Molly said. “Have you been paying attention to our daily lives? We’re always running around jumping into battle and we fight anything and everything that crosses our path.”

“That’s kind of morbid, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Molly shrugged. “I just meant it as more of a…of a seize the moment and live your life sort of thing. Don’t let any opportunity pass you by, no matter what. Live as much as you can, as quickly as you can.”

Beau took a second to consider this. “Nah,” she said. “I’m good. I’m gonna live fucking forever, Molly.”

He burst out laughing. A couple of the others stirred, before turning around and continuing to snore.

“That’s hilarious,” Molly sighed, rubbing at the corners of his eyes. “Sure, Beau, sure.”

“Well,” she grumbled, “Not forever. I mean, not really. But it’s not like I expect to drop dead at any second. What the…what the fuck? Why do you even think that?”

Molly briefly glanced back to a large shape sleeping near the front, her massive black shawl drawn tightly around her shoulders.

“I think you should talk to Yasha,” he said again, closing his eyes. “You two would really get along, if you didn’t always act so weird.”

“Uh...thanks, I think?”

“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled, putting his hands behind his head like a pillow and letting the sun warm his skin. He took a long, slow breath, and waited for sleep to take him.

•

Molly saw a pair of bright yellow eyes shine back at him through the darkness, and sighed.

“Nott, what did we say about going through people’s stuff?”

He saw the eyes widen, and then narrow, and then they started getting closer. A few seconds later, Nott appeared in the clear patch of grass where the group had built their campfire for the night, the flames illuminating her small form. She clambered onto the log next to Molly, who was keeping watch by himself.

“See anything interesting?” she asked in a shrill, conversational tone. “Anything worth noting?”

“It’s the strangest thing,” nodded Molly, “but I think I just saw a goblin about to rob us. Isn’t that odd?”

“Oh, fuck off,” she sighed. “We said I could steal from grumpy people, and you said Beau qualified, didn’t you?”

“Okay, point taken, carry on.”

“Thanks. And anyways, I meant if you saw any danger, or anything.”

“Nothing that isn’t three feet tall and green,” he shrugged. “Why?”

“Why?” Nott raised an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be guarding us, aren’t you?”

“Yes, dear, but there isn’t anything that needs my guardianship, at the moment.”

“Do you know for sure?” she pressed. “Have you really been keeping a keen eye out? Making sure we won’t get ambushed by a terrible ogre or crazed troll or a mad necromancer or a...a...swarm of coyotes?”

“I don’t think they travel in swarms, Nott.”

“Are you a scholar?”

“Alright, fair.”

“I just don’t want to get killed in my sleep,” Nott said, swinging her feet off the side of the log. “I’ve got too much to live for.”

“Like what, dear?”

“Oh, lots of stuff,” Nott shrugged. “I’ve got to keep Caleb alive, and you all alive by extension. There’s a million shiny things out there I haven’t stolen yet, and I bet there’s so much more alcohol I haven’t tried. Plus I still don’t know what it’s like to live a normal life. I don’t plan on dying before I get that.”

Molly tapped his chin. “I agree with keeping us alive,” he said, “and with getting shiny things and drinking my brains away, but I don’t know about that last one. I think a normal life is overrated.”

“Of course you’d think that,” Nott said, rolling her eyes. “You’re a normal person.”

Molly opened his mouth, and then cocked his head, and then closed his mouth. He considered this.

“Am I?” he asked. “Take a real, real good look at me, Nott. Am I?”

“Well, more or less normal. More normal. Normal-adjacent. Whereas I, Mollymauk, am 100% not normal. My people live in caves and eat children, remember? That’s not even a stereotype or a misconception! We literally eat children and literally live in caves!”

“But you don’t,” Molly said.

“No,” Nott sighed, “I don’t. And I almost got killed because of it.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Molly shrugged. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make sure nothing happens to you before you get it. And then when you see how stupid conformity is, us normal-adjacent people will be right behind you.”

Nott snorted at that. “Alright,” she agreed. “That sounds good to me. And if you ever figure out that you want to know more about your past—”

“All I want, Nott the Brave, all I want, is to see as much of this world I can, get laid as much as I can, and enjoy life as much as physically possible.”

“Alright then,” sighed Nott. “Alright. I suppose we’ll make sure that happens, then.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

•

Molly watched in amazement as the flames in Caleb’s palm suddenly turned a bright blue, then faded to green, then yellow, then violet, before fizzling out and dying in his hand.

“Brilliant!” he laughed, and clapped. “Do it again!”

Caleb sighed and shook his head. “It was not complete,” he muttered. “I do not understand what I am doing wrong. This should be so simple, Jester does it as easily as breathing.”

Molly shrugged, and leaned back against the boulder they sat beside in this open field. Every once in a while the wind would drift by and skim the surface of the tall grass.

“I thought it was marvelous. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Caleb ran his fingers through his hair. “I should be better, though. This is mere child’s play.”

“Now, now, that attitude is pointless,” Molly sighed. “How is dwelling like this going to help you?”

“It’s not,” Caleb muttered, “but you cannot deny that something as, as trivial as changing colors should have come to me like that.” He snapped his fingers.

“So what?” Molly asked. “So what if it is? Why think about it?”

“Because it is the truth!” Caleb snapped. “How much of a failure I am, how pitiful that attempt was, it is pure and uncut fact and there is nothing I can do—”

“Wrong.”

“What?”

“Wrong!” Molly cried, and threw his hands up into the air. “So what if that’s true? Lots of things are true! Lots of terrible, awful, downright bloody horrible things are true! This country is at war and the government is corrupt and there’s violence and terror everywhere! But you can’t let that get in the way of living! You can’t just think about the negative, or else there’s no point anymore! The point is what you decide to do despite all the garbage everywhere. This world is a fucking mess and that’s the truth but it’s the one I crawled into and by the gods, Caleb Widogast, I’m going to do everything in my insignificant, meaningless power to make sure I leave it better than I found it. And if that means beating into your thick skull that you aren’t as much of a failure as you think you are, then so be it! I don’t care if you think you’re terrible at magic, I care about you getting better. And that starts with you shutting up, and not worrying so much about what you should be, and thinking more about what you’ve already done. Fuck the truth.”

A cool breeze blew across the valley, over the grass and through their hair, before fading into the distance.

“I do not agree with everything you said,” Caleb mumbled eventually, “but I suppose some of that has some merit.”

“That’s a start, isn’t it?”

They sat there in silence for a few more beats.

“What was the problem with it anyways?” Molly asked. “You got a bunch of colors, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Caleb sighed, “but I did not get them all. You saw, I missed orange and—”

He stopped and hit his forehead.

“What did you miss, dear?” Molly asked again, sweetly, with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Which colors?”

“Orange and red,” Caleb grumbled. “I missed orange and red.”

“And what colors is fire naturally, Caleb?”

“...orange and red.”

“So therefore in truth, your spell really is…?

Caleb sighed deeply, and closed his eyes, and leaned back against the boulder with Molly. “...complete,” he muttered.

“No,” Molly said. “Perfect.”

•

“I am very happy we met, Molly,” Jester giggled as she braided a trail of tiny blue wildflowers into his hair. They were seated by a slow-running creek in the woods off the Amber Road, where the party had just completed a day of travelling. Somewhere in the distance, Beau and Fjord were trying to catch fish for dinner.

“I’m glad we met too, dear,” Molly said cheerfully. “It’s nice to see someone colorful around, for a change.”

“It is weird, isn’t it?” Jester agreed. “I mean, back home there was everybody of every kind! People that looked like giant cats or had six eyes or bright green hair or sharp pointy teeth! It was so much more fun.”

“I’d love to see that,” Molly sighed. “It sounds wonderful. You know, I’d never seen another tiefling before, until you.”

“What?” Jester blinked in surprise. “Never? Not anywhere in your travelling or in taverns or on the road or not even you par—”

She faltered, and her hand fell to her side. “Oh,” she said. “Right. Um...sorry.”

He chuckled, and passed her a sprig of lavender. “It’s alright dear. I’m not bothered by it.”

“I know you always say that,” Jester sighed as she accepted the flower, “but do you really mean it? Really-really? You don’t care at all?”

“Maybe I care a little,” Molly admitted, “but I’m not going to think about it. What’s the use? It’s not like I need them.”

“But you do not want to know where you came from? Who your family was?”

Molly shook his head, which dislodged a few small petals. “I know where I came from,” he said. “A hole in the ground somewhere up north. And I know who my family was too, it was the circus. Now it’s you lot. Right?”

Jester giggled at that. “I guess so,” she laughed. “I have a family, you know, my momma and my dad, wherever he is. But I also think I have another family now. You, and the rest of the Mighty Nein. I like you guys a lot.”

“Good,” grinned Molly. “I happen to be quite attached to the group as well. And I don’t plan on going anywhere, so I think you can count on us sticking together for a while.”

Jester pushed a tiny flower between his curly locks. “I’d like that,” she said with a faint smile.

“Me too, dear. Me too.”

•

Smoke curled up from the grass where Caleb’s blasts had scorched the ground, sent embers up into the night sky and dark trails of ash in the dirt. One of the tall carts lay in ruins to the side, the felled tree still creaking dangerously from its position half-smashing the tarp over the wagon. 

All around them, the battle raged on. Beau was a whirl of fists and flash of blue, Nott sent crossbow bolts like vengeful rain across the field as she sprinted to find and unlock the cages. The half-orc druid had fallen quickly, blood pooling around her, and some of the others had taken hits, but mostly, their enemies, these Iron Shepherds, hardly had a scratch on them. The sorcerer thrust her hand out, trying to pin them down as the barbarian raged across the field. The thugs swam sluggishly through the air, but their weapons were still drawn and glinting evilly with rust and blood, slowed but still lethal. And their leader, the towering, brutish, bald figure, stood virtually untouched while the chaos continued.

Molly yanked his sword back, glinting gold in the low firelight, and looked up. He saw Lorenzo wipe at the corner of his mouth, saw the freezing storm of ice still chilling the night air. His horrible tattoos curled around a hard, sharp jaw. He slammed his glaive against the ground as the wintery burst faded, and turned to face Molly. He wore a smile—jagged, and cruel, like a feral dragon ready to pounce.

Molly glanced around, saw Nott reeling from the wave of cold, saw Beau shake a bleeding fist, saw a crossbow bolt soar through the air to where Caleb was hiding.

He clutched his swords and grit his teeth and burst forward, scaling over the upturned cart, dashing across the blood-soaked grass and lunging for Lorenzo’s form.

He thought about Beau, pointing at some cows from the back of a cart.

His first strike found purchase, cut deep into the man’s flesh, and he spun around again with his other hand.

He thought about Nott, swinging her legs of the side of a log.

With a sickening, wet tear the blade sliced through Lorenzo’s chest.

He thought about Caleb, out in the meadow, holding a purple flame in his hands.

Another attack, another frenzied whirl with his weapon, and as he backed away and readied himself he saw Lorenzo raise that awful, glinting glaive, and instinctually, Molly did what he always did—

—he called upon his own blood, dug into his body for an unknown power, ripped one last fragment of vitality out of his soul to twist like a weapon and blind his attacker and save his friends—

—and suddenly in a sickening burst realized he had nothing left, had nothing left—

He sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes went wide. He felt the life drain out of his body, and he collapsed onto the ground.

He looked up into the face of his killer, and saw a flicker of confusion, then the smooth, quiet satisfaction of victory on its knees before him.

Lorenzo took a step forwards.

“Any last words?”

Molly thought about Jester with her wildflowers by the river, thought about Fjord asleep on the wooden floor of their room, thought about Yasha glowing in the starlight on the roof of their wagon, Yasha, his closest friend, Yasha, Yasha, how lucky he had been to know her, to know them all, really—

Molly thought of all that he had seen, and all that he hadn’t. All that he had known, and all that he wouldn’t.

Do you ever think about dying?

Yes, he thought. But he wouldn’t let this fucker know that.

He looked up, and spat into the cold face looming over him.

Lorenzo nodded. “Respect,” he said, and lifted the glaive.

In the dark, for just a moment, Molly’s eyes glowed a soft, fading red.

And then, nothing.

• • •

<3 ☕ ☕ ☕

[suzie-guru]

Suzie’s Decidedly Non-Coherent Thoughts Regarding Trollhunters Season 3.

OKAY.  

So I fully acknowledge I’ve been putting this off, but to be fair to myself, I am still in the midst of some pretty intensive training for this job, and also...

THERE WAS A LOT TO PROCESS WITH THIS SEASON. 

LIKE, A LOT. 

So this post will honestly be a hodgepodge of all sorts of things, and I’m pretty damn sure it won’t be the least bit coherent, but...I made a promise to y’all. 

By far and away, A House Divided was my favorite episode, and that’s really fucking saying something because this Season was RICH with good episodes. I said it once and I’m saying it again, A House Divided is peak Trollhunters - I was breathless and shaking from the power and emotion of that ending scene. Trollhunters is a great show all around, but when it’s when it stops and allows the emotional weight and poignancy of Jim’s journey, all of the sacrifices he has made, to set in and gives its due course...it’s heartbreaking and it’s magnificent and so incredibly powerful. 

Jim’s journey has never been an easy one, but episode hit me like a hammer to the heart - he can’t come back from this. His human life is effectively over. He’s giving up so much, so incredibly much, and he keeps on choosing to answer the call, give himself over again and again and again. This episode brought this all home, and my God, it was heart-wrenching. 

I will admit, I was at first puzzled and a little upset that after everyone saying that it was Jim’s humanity that made him such a strong Trollhunter, suddenly that wasn’t enough. It felt like such a slap in the face. But if there’s one thing about Trollhunters that stays strong, it’s the theme of sacrifice. Jim sacrificing his right to have a normal life to be the Trollhunter the world needs, Draal sacrificing his arrogance and dreams to be the protector and friend of the Trollhunter, Strickler sacrificing his desire for power to be worthy of Barbara’s love and Jim’s trust...

Sacrifice isn’t easy. It hurts a hell of a lot at times. And that’s what makes Jim such an incredible hero. When all the pieces are down, he chooses to be selfless, to put the world above himself. He ends the life he wants to have the life that will save others. I can’t even put into words what that does to me...

Phew. Okay. Deeeeeep breath, Suzanne, and collect thyself. Now onto other things...

All the above being said, Merlin is a dick. Look, I get it - he sees the bigger picture, he cares but he has to look at what needs to be done. I understand that angle. But he’s still a fucking dick. And I’m not only thinking about how he manipulates treats Jim. 

Yeah, I’m thinking about Strickler. 

Who Merlin dismisses as Changeling before walking away...

Sure, Walter was groveling to him at that moment, but...Jesus Christ, you musty magic man. Yes, absolutely, look down like everyone else does upon the race that your goddamned pupil created - hell, you probably look down on them BECAUSE your goddamn pupil created them. Don’t stop to think about they had no choice in the matter, don’t stop to think about how YOU’VE could have helped them and turned them away from Morgana if you had stepped up and set an example of acceptance that other trolls could have followed. Dismiss them just like everyone else does. Let your own bitter disappointment about Morgana color your feelings to them. JERK. 

ALSO. YOU WANTED A “CHAMPION WITH A FOOT IN BOTH WORLDS”!?! GOSH, I DON’T KNOW, MAYBE A FUCKING CHANGELING CHAMPION WOULD HAVE BEEN A BETTER SOLUTION THAN A POOR TEENAGER WHO JUST WANTS TO LIVE HIS LIFE AND LOVE HIS MOM AND COOK GREAT FOOD AND RIDE HIS VESPA. JUST AN IDEA, JACKASS. 

Look, fuck Merlin. Just fuck him. Jim deserves to be a champion of someone SO much better. Merlin and Morgana are both using their champions as pawns although, to Merlin’s credit, he makes a point of opening Jim’s eyes and making it about Jim’s choice. But yeah, I’m gonna write a very cathartic fanfic featuring Barbara Lake giving Merlin all kinds of hell in regards to his gross negligence over the whole changeling thing...

Okay, what else...what could I possibly be missing...

Oh yeah!

STRICKLAKE. 

Man, I was one happy camper this season after the decidedly dry spell of Season Two. And by “happy camper” I mean gloriously tortured, but I figured you would gather that. 

So many good things, so many gorgeous scenes! Walter on gravesand being brought back by his love for Barbara, his UTTER NERDNESS nervousness and psyching himself up with French (THIS FUCKING DORK) to talk to her again, Barbara being a MAJOR FUCKING ARTIST (MY GIRL IS SO TALENTED) and trying to cope with Walter running off, Walt being tempted by Morgana!Barbara (oh my god my son my son be strong my son but at the same time THIS SHIT IS ALL THE FLAVORS OF MY JAM)

AND THEN THAT SCENE IN THE MUSEUM?!

(HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT WE GOT A MOONLIT FLIGHT MY STRANGE MAGIC HEART WAS QUAKING WITH JOY AND I MAY HAVE MURMURED “THE MOONLIGHT IS PERFECT RIGHT NOW”, DON’T JUDGE MEEEEEE)

Okay, one big ass complaint though: 

WE DID NOT GET A SCENE BETWEEN WALTER AND BARBARA WHERE SHE LETS HIM KNOW SHE REMEMBERS EVERYTHING. 

...WTF?!?

On one hand, this is perfect fanfic fuel. 

On the other hand, WE WAS ROBBED. 

Also, did she just tell the other parents that he was in on everything? How on earth did that go down? I’M SO CURIOUS. 

THAT PLAY.  THOSE FUCKING DORKS. DICTATIOUS BEING ROPPED INTO IT AS WELL. THE FACT THAT WALTER ACTUALLY CHANGED INTO HIS TROLL FORM FOR IT. I’m super confused, did the other parents (aside from Barbara, obviously) think it was makeup or what? 

Meanwhile Walter’s just like “fuck it it might as well happen at least Barbara let me into her house I’ve sat through parent teacher conferences with these plebs before I can handle doing this rag-tag-ass play”

AND THEN!

Okay, I fucking CALLED Usurna pretending to be Barbara as soon as she pretended to cower next to Walter. BARBARA LAKE IS NOT ONE TO COWER, YOU STONY BITCH. 

“My life is not worth the world!”  “...It is to me.” 

*Regina: Stricklake*

*The Heart She’s Holding: Mine* 

then...

“May the world forgive me. For without you, there is no world!” 

I’M OKAY, I’M FINE, I SWEAR I’M FINE. 

Okay, what else...here’s a random run-down: 

THAT LAST FIGHT SCENE WAS STUNNING. Like, granted, the animation is always good, BUT HOLY HELL, THAT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL AND BREATHTAKING, EVERYTHING WAS CHOREOGRAPHED SO WELL. 

Walter FINALLY coming back to his rightful place of being Concerned Instructor/Father Figure to Jim. “Young Atlas, you are not alone! Don’t do this! Open the door!” 

(I was literally eating ice cream during this moment, this gif is all too real). 

STEVE AND ELI’S REACTION TO NOMURA WAS A BLESSING. LIKE, AN HONEST AND TRUE BLESSING. WE GOT THE SLOW MOTION AND MUSIC AND EVERYTHING. 

Oh fuck oH FUCK, I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT NOMURA’S REACTION TO FINDING OUT ABOUT DRAAL’S DEATH

OOOOOOOUUUUUUCH

Okay, enough pain...

(for now)

ANGOR REDEMPTION. WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED. 

So I had seen that Walter had wings in the concept art of the show, but I was under the impression that they had decided to forgo that. COLOR ME HAPPY WHEN IT TURNS OUT, NOPE, THEY DID NOT. 

So can Walter just decide he’s feeling more like his knife cape today? I wonder how that works...

(totally not planning a fanfic exploring this and Walter wrapping his wings around Barbara like a cocoon)

((totally not))

(((she lied)))

“I think these kitties are from a bad neighborhood” 

“B is for blender, fur ball.” BARBARA, MY SAVAGE SWEETHEART, FUCK ‘EM UP, FUCK ‘EM ALL UP, YES YES YES. 

So I have personally figured out how I would solve Walter being stuck in his Troll form in my own fanfics (WHICH I AM SO EXCITED TO WRITE, OH WOW) but I’m pretty darn sure that there are multiple other ways for us to work with that (glamour masks, potions, et cetera et cetera...) 

I’m pretty damn sure that Barbara and Walter AREN’T gonna be raising all those babies, but you never know. I personally like the idea of them seeking out adoption centers over the world (Walter knows them because of his work with the Janus Order), but then they decide to raise the REAL Strickler as their own. 

YES I HAVE A FANFIC PLANNED DO NOT JUDGE ME

And yes, I’m sure I am not alone in this, but I let out a soft sob when I saw that dedication to Anton. Rest In Peace, darling. 

What else...

Oh yeah:

Jim’s Troll form is hot. 

There, I’ve said it. 

So yeah, this is all just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my emotions over this show, especially with the fact that it’s officially over. But yeah...what a beautiful and brilliant ride. I couldn’t have asked for me. 

...except an on-screen Stricklake kiss.

But that’s what fanfic is for.