#(its just the ramifications of fucking that up badly enough can go as far as lease termination)

[soysaucevictim]

Gonna be carried off for family get together around noon... pondering a little bit about how much i want to take with me over there.

Maybe my headphones and old computer... if i have any downtime to write while over there.

[mindibindi]

Beyond disappointed in Ted Lasso. What were they thinking?!

The writing is a complete betrayal and insult to Rebecca’s character and Hannah’s skills as they’re being seriously underused. It’s also insulting Sam’s character.

Hoping someone pulls Rebecca’s head out of her ass tbh. Sam shouldn’t be getting caught in the crossfire of her looking for romance. I know he showed up at her doorstep but she still should’ve turned him away, and not even messaged him in the first place.

Hey, I'm with you, Anon, though we do seem to be in the minority. Sam is definitely not blameless here, he is also in the wrong. But if one of them is more in the wrong, it is Rebecca. I can't speak to whether her head has left her arse as yet because I have quit watching (at least for now). I hear she called it off with Sam in the most recent ep, though not because of any major crisis of conscience or because anyone in her inner circle expressed any reasonable reservations in response to her bad behaviour. And to be honest, I'm not sure we should need to hope and pray that Rebecca's precocious god-daughter, her slimy ex-husband, or the brutal British press will act as a moral compass on this ill-advised relationship. Both Rupert and the press have been set up to some extent as the villains of the piece. And a 14 year old should never have to school her elders on what is and isn't acceptable. Nora's needs have already been neglected by Rebecca for far too long.

If a moral position is to be taken on this, it needs to be taken by the show (because stance matters) and/or by its characters. But the show has for the most part depicted this relationship as ill-advised but ultimately hot, sweet, funny and romantic. As for the characters themselves, Sam has shown at least once that he has some moral backbone but seems to be adorably clueless when it comes to fucking his boss who keeps trying to set boundaries with him. Meanwhile, Rebecca's whole arc in s1 was about learning not to misuse her power for her own selfish ends. In season one, she misused her power within the club in order to exact revenge. In season 2, we have seen her misuse her sexual power, though I still cannot see to what end. I'm a bit at a loss as to what exactly she gets out of this 'relationship' but then I'm a grown woman so I have absolutely no interest in sleeping with a Harry Potter enthusiast barely out of his teens. I couldn't think of anything less sexy and more ick. I was certainly hoping for better character development for her this season.

As to what the writers were thinking, obviously I was not in the writer's room, but I would guess that they were thinking that any drama is good drama, people are stupid and fan devotion will trump any meaningful critique. In other words, they were thinking exactly how every other television writer thinks, despite the fact that this show posited itself as 'not like other TV shows'. This, to me, is where the blame really lies. Not with the characters or with the actors who are doing their best to sell this ludicrous turn of events. It must be noted, however, that both actors were completely blindsided by this relationship that had supposedly been so cleverly foreshadowed. Newsflash: if the people actually living these stories did not see this coming then you haven't foreshadowed shit. Sure, there were a handful of people that paired Rebecca with Sam but this does not constitute proof either. Fans have free-range to imagine and re-imagine characters. In some cases this may extend to imagining relationships between characters who have barely, if ever, interacted. There may be little to no evidence that these characters have even clocked each other's existence and some fans will still ship it. The existence of a handful of shippers does not legitimise such a problematic and divisive plotline making it onscreen.

But wait!, you might argue, this may not be a case of a popular show seeing just how far they can stretch fan devotion. This may not be a case of fan service to a handful of shippers. After all, the creators mapped out the entire three-season arc of Ted Lasso before they even pitched it to Apple. This was their brilliant plan all along! To which I would say: then maybe they should've rethought their second act based on people's strong reactions to their first. Ted Lasso was touted as the show we all needed in 2020. The writers and creators have all marveled at the chord it struck considering it was conceived prior to the pandemic and all the chaos it wrought. And while there is something to be said for having/sticking to a creative vision, there is also something to be said for being flexible and responsive to your audience and the cultural zeitgeist with which you're engaged. Season 1 of Ted Lasso told its story so gently, without creating distrust, division or unnecessary anxiety. It did not treat its audience like a gaggle of stupid lemmings to be led over a succession of narrative cliffs. THIS is what I mean when I say the show has broken with its brand. And look, this whole dark forest thing would be okay if the narrative arc was as well-crafted as s1. Season 1 gave us meaning, cohesion, comfort, sense in a senseless time. It was an almost perfectly crafted season of television. And I kept the faith for 6 episodes, despite the first half of s2 being pretty damn wobbly. But the follow-up to this stellar debut has been less than extraordinary so yeah, perhaps they should've thought a little harder about what made s1 so special before throwing it all out the window.

But wait!, I hear the faithful say, you don't know how things will pan out yet! Wait until the season is over and everything will make sense! But -- wearily and once again, I say -- we should not need to wait until the end of the season to understand what the hell is happening. By this point (over halfway through the season and show) we should have a v clear idea of the show's themes and the characters' arcs. And tbf, from what I can tell there are some fab things happening in other aspects of the show that I wish I could watch and enjoy. But my biggest fear at this point is that they are going to use Sam to solve Rebecca's childlessness. That, like Rupert (because the parallel cannot be avoided), she will become pregnant with a young fling and the show's attitude to this relationship will ultimately be: oh well, it was a bad idea and didn't work out for them but it was all for the best in the end cos who can be mad about a cute lil baaaayyybbbeeee??!! If they do go down this path then I will definitely be abstaining from the rest of the show. I will simply recall my repeated viewings of s1 with fondness tinged with regret at just how badly they fucked up a good thing.

Ultimately, Anon, I think this may be a case of there simply not being a diverse enough perspective in the writer's room. I am not saying that every single woman or every single person of colour will necessarily object to this relationship. I am simply saying that women and people of colour will be more sensitive to the issues of gender and race that are relevant here but that have not been fully or sensitively acknowledged in the writing of this plotline. Neither am I saying that Rebecca is the first woman to sleep with a man much (much, much, MUCH) younger than herself or indulge in an ill-advised relationship. But the comparison with Rupert both works here and doesn't because Rebecca is not being written like a white woman, she is being written like a white man. Realistically, only a white man can engage in this kind of hugely imbalanced relationship seemingly without any major moral qualms or societal ramifications. Not to put too fine a point on it, but this kind of relationship is reserved for all the Bills and Joes and Brendans and Jasons out there -- not for the Rebeccas and definitely not for the Sams. We are way beyond the point in feminism where we believe that liberation is simply the right for a white woman to behave as badly as a white man. The truth is that whatever wealth, power and privilege Rebecca has, the rules are different for men and women. She will not be treated the same as Rupert if and when this affair is uncovered. She will be treated far more savagely than Rupert ever was and Sam will be treated far more savagely than Bex was. This is not an argument for the equal treatment of these two relationships. It is an argument against how the relationship between Rebecca and Sam has been envisaged, i.e. through the wrong perspective. In writing from a 'neutral' white male pov, the show has invisiblised all the many issues activated by this storyline and revealed a blindspot that was always there.

As much as I loved and still love season 1 of this show, it has definite blindspots when it comes to representations of race and gender. There are at least two moments in s1 that stand out for me as being so obviously written by a man. Not necessarily because of what they do but because of what they don't do: what is missed, absent, unacknowledged. I was willing to overlook such minor failings in a debut season for many reasons. But s2 seems to have exacerbated these minor flaws rather than correcting them. And here I can't help thinking of Tina Fey speaking of the diversification of the writer's room at SNL during her tenure as co-headwriter. This notoriously male-dominated environment only began to shift and produce better work when a greater diversity of minds, voices and persepectives was allowed in the room. In this richer environment, she notes, different jokes played differently. Different sketches made it to air. Different perspectives were represented and different performers were celebrated. I can't help wondering if this plotline would have made it to air if there had been a female writer, a writer of colour or both further up the chain of command to challenge the ideas of the straight white dudes in charge.

One of the reasons I didn't think Ted Lasso was for me was that it centred a straight, white, cis-het, able-bodied man who rose to a position he didn't earn. That is just not a pov I would normally choose for myself, especially now that there is such a rich array of alternative perspectives through which to view the world. But I think the show won a lot of females fans with its first season largely due to its portrayal of Rebecca. She is the first person we meet. She is arguably the protagonist of s1. And while she would have been figured as a villain in previous pieces, the show never took that stance with her (because again, stance matters). Other elements like the depiction of female friendships, all centred around Rebecca, made this show female-friendly viewing. But imo, the major reason this show won over female fans (this one, at least) is because, in this post-MeToo, post-TimesUp era, it stood up and said: domestic violence is not okay, we stand with women and all victims of abuse, we will defend you, we know words can hurt, we know it can happen to anyone, we know all about toxic masculinity, we do not take this lightly and we will support you in your healing. Needless to say, this is how women hope men will act when they speak of their most difficult experiences but it is not how they always do.

The shift away from Rebecca this season has however meant that the white male experience is more centred than it was in s1. Rebecca's journey to recovery, health and happiness has been trivialised and sidelined, reduced to a highly questionable sexcapade. Meanwhile, we get overwrought manpain at every turn. We get Beard wandering around London (no, I haven't seen it and no, I don't need to. We've all been raised on white dudes thinking they're genuises when they have a figurative wank all over our screens). We get NO queer represention at all. And the only other female characters on screen are in care/service roles to men. The father/son, mentoring and toxic masculinity themes are all still there but they're no longer balanced out by ANY other competing perspective. One of the reasons I was okay with Ted failing upwards in s1 was that he used his power and privilege to lift up others. He was the one in service. He used his enormous privilege for good, as anyone with such privilege must. (Admittedly, it could be argued that this is just another version of a white savior narrative).

My point here is that I'm not sure that peeking behind the mask at the sad clown is as revolutionary as some might believe. We love it because it's familiar. But this is a narrative with a long and problematic history. Do I believe in tearing down toxic masculinity in all its forms? You bet. Do I believe that patriarchy traumatises men as well as women and every other minority in existence? I mean...nowhere near as much, but absolutely. Do I believe in men expressing their feelings and going to therapy? Wholeheartedly. But I am also aware that 100 or so years ago, we were in a very similar place with our narratives. Everyone is looking for a recapitulation of modernism and frankly, this might be an indicator of just that. Whenever women and people of colour have demanded rights and recognition, there has always been a resurgence of tales about just how frickin' hard it is to be a white man. Minority genders and non-white people have never in western history been as visible or vocal as they are now. So forgive me (or don't, I don't care) if I critique a show not only for centering fathers, sons, boys and men but for blindly and boldly writing one of its only female characters and one of its only black characters as if their gender and race just do not exist. There are many other power differentials at play in this relationship, including age, experience, wealth and position, but race and gender are the two that patriarchy is most invested in invisiblising. So I don't care how brilliant they think they are, I will not trust the writing of a bunch of white dudes trying to tell me that race and gender are irrelevant.

[icarus-suraki]

12, 46, 119 :)

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

In no particular order...

The Banjo Beat Yeah, I know it's a meme staple, but it's got the kind of sound I love and how cool would a bellydance choreography look to this?

Little Dark Age (slowed) Yes, I first heard this in one of the Angels & Demons tiktok compilations and I loved it, shut up. I love the 80s goth energy in the video too. Like, it just hits the spot, you know?

Tick.Tock.Magical.Idol.Time  Because sometimes you just gotta find a happy place, okay? If there's ever a lipsynch or idol show at a convention, this is gonna be what I perform in my cute cyclops kigurumi mask. Absolutely. (The Pripara animes got me through a very long winter a few years ago. I'd literally get up earlier than I needed so I could see the latest clips after a new episode aired before I went to work lol. And, yes, I love Yui, but Lalaa is best girl. They get to perform together, though.)

Lots of Zenbukimi and Not Secured,Loose Ends songs lately. I'll throw these here for an example: "Loud Asymmetry" and "独白園" ["Garden Monologue" or "Monologue Garden"?]. I have a whole YT playlist, lol. I'm kind of fascinated by the whole "underground idol" phenomenon and the CodomoMental label groups because they're both idols and anti-idols, which is kind of an interesting conflict within "idol-style" music in Japan...

Superman This is what I use for my alarm every morning in the hopes that high energy ska-punk will make me get up. It doesn't always work, but I like the song anyway. I've been on a real ska and ska-punk streak lately.

46. What are you paranoid about?

On the one hand, as a Thomas Pynchon fan, who has major themes of paranoia in, uh, all of his books, I have to laugh. But, at the same time, I'm so much less paranoid than I used to be. I put this down to my medications. In the past, wow, I've been paranoid about, uh, everything?

I think I'm kind of weak willed because any kind of "world's gonna end on x date" thing would send me into multi-day panic attacks. Nostradamus, obscure and dubious prophecies, biblical interpretations, Book of Revelations, political stuff, anything. I'd find myself believing all kinds of irrational things but not feeling like I could do anything about it (I mention this in particular because it’s markedly different from the Q-Anon fandom that is determined to Do Something about what they believe is happening; I felt informed but helpless, like there was an air raid siren blaring but nowhere to go and no shelter to be had, only inevitable destruction needling down from the clear blue sky). Like, all these terrible things are going to happen to us all and there's nothing we can do about it. Biblical stuff would always set me off in a major, major way. I'm rather proud I can shake off all the people talking about microchips in vaccines because a few years ago I would have been panicking about whether that was true and what the ramifications would be because, obviously, there was no way to get out of this inevitable fate or possible damnation and maybe it was the Mark of the Beast so what does that mean? Are there going to be people starving outside grocery stores now? Was xyz event really a sign? How much are we going to suffer??? What if I'm not good enough for God?????? Lots of religious anxiety in my past, as you can see. And some still, to be honest.

Yeah, it sucked. Glad I got most of that anxiety sorted before 2020 lol. (I sometimes think I could use a bit of anxiety because now I'll do dumb shit without fear because, eh, who cares? So I may have swung too far in the opposite direction.)

119. Favourite book? It's a three-way tie, baybee!

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury: I wrote a bang-up college admissions essay on this book and why it's not actually about censorship (as is usually but incorrectly taught) but rather about a disinterest in books/reading or an anxiety about the intense emotions that reading can bring out in the reader and I want to major in English so please let me come to your school to do that. And, guess what? They did. I read this book and then I felt feverish for, like, a week after. That's how hard it hit me, especially surrounded by high school classmates who really didn't care about school or reading or anything. It was like "fuck, this is too close to possible!" Anyway, it's still not about censorship.

Ulysses by James Joyce: This book, this thing, has such a reputation of being Evil and Dirty. So I read it. Fuck it, why not? Actually, I had been assigned some stories out of Dubliners to read over the Thanksgiving break my freshman year and I was kind of like "why the fuck did no one ever tell me to read these before now?" So I went and read Portrait of the Artist. N.B.: I think I was ~18 or 19 at the time and that thing hit me like not just a ton of bricks but about six tons of bricks. Like, I know I'm part of the .05% of people who actually like The Catcher in the Rye, but I think that's because I read it when I was ~15 or 16, because I was the ideal age and in the ideal mindset to read it. (The older I get, the more I identify with Holden's teacher, Mr. Spencer, who essentially tells Holden that if you can just hang on, I promise it gets better and you can do the shit you want really soon. But I also know how badly that would have gone over with my 16 year-old self, so...) So, anyway, in internet parlance, I realized I was kin with Stephen Dedalus, right? The only natural next step after PotA was Ulysses, since that picks up after PotA, so I just jumped into that with a copy from the used bookstore and separate annotation book from my school's library. And, o my fuck, Jim, you fucko, how did you do this? Like "I'm gonna create so many references and so many layers that you're going to have fun picking at this for years." And he was right! I have never been to Dublin but I can navigate the older parts of the city thanks to this dirty, profane, vulgar, obscene piece of literature lmao. I finished it the first time when I was almost 22, Stephen's age in the book. I went to Europe that summer, 2004, which was 100 years after the events in the book (1904) and intended to play at being Stephen, but that shit did not work out as planned and ended up being more accurate to canon than expected: i.e. everything was terrible and I suffered very artistically. I had planned on going to Ireland this year, because I turned 38 this year, Leopold Bloom's age in the book. 2020 wasn't having it. So maybe 2021? Or maybe 2022, the anniversary of its publication. This thing hangs in the background for me constantly and it's like the most amazing running joke in my life. I dressed up as Stephen for Halloween in 2004 too. Just sayin’.

Gravity's Rainbow: When I was working at a major chain bookstore immediately after college, it was retail hell and I was extremely depressed and everything sucked. I had no direction, no plan, no nothing. I kind of wanted to go get a PhD in English, though. So I started using my employee's discount to buy and read all the books that everyone seemed to talk about but had never read. Among those was Gravity's Rainbow, which was a title that intrigued me but I had no idea what it was "about." And saying what it's "about" isn't all that easy but that's kind of not the point. Just know that it's a dirty little book about sex and rockets. The point is the fuckery that our boy Tom Pynchon does with words and language and imagery and little winking references to things. I fucking love it. It's like, yeah. It's set during World War II and immediately after and it's bonkers and the author wrote most of it while very, very high. I went on and read the rest of his books (The Crying of Lot 49 is pretty much tied with GR for my affections; I would cosplay a theatrical interpretation of a Tristero courier if I ever had the opportunity) and bought Against the Day literally on the day it came out because I had become that much of a dork. (I also read Finnegans Wake about this time, which I also really love, a fact which really unsettles some people.)

Why can’t I be normal? I have no idea. I blame my past and my proclivities. 

Ask me stuff! Put question in, get blathering out!

[thesinglesjukebox]

BILLIE EILISH - BURY A FRIEND

[7.76]

Why you always play that song so loud? Oh.

Ian Mathers: Over a series of songs and videos, Eilish has practically offered a survey of fears and bad feelings: spiders, isolation, drowning, physical assault, mental illness, poison, other people as monsters, the self as a monster, etc. and here she leans harder than ever into the horror tropes, both sonically and visually. The sampled dentist drill, lyrics equally evoking the monster under the bed and sleep paralysis, the haunted house/nursery rhyme lilt of the verses, the bravado that at least partially stems from her narrative persona already feeling bad enough about herself that you sure as hell can't touch her, and of course the line that recurs over and over: "I wanna end me." It's the sort of thing you can imagine parents freaking out over, and even possibly the (yes, yes, very young) Eilish looking back years from now and thinking the better of. But, much as plenty of pop music conjures up outsized romantic sentiments that listeners gravitate towards despite not actually wanting to follow through with them in a literal sense, it also feels like the kind of darkness that I know many people who don't struggle with suicidal ideation still identify with in the context of a pop song. I'm not actually arguing for its total harmlessness so much as admitting that I don't think total harmlessness is necessary or even desirable in pop, maybe especially when it is from someone as young and who seems to be as tapped into a new vocabulary (sonic and gestural as much as linguistic) as Eilish is so far. The line and the song make me uneasy even as I love it and feel seen by it, as opposed to (say) Juice WRLD's bullshit which doesn't to me feel like it has any redeeming element at all. Eilish and "Bury a Friend," meanwhile, don't need a redeeming element unless you have a problem with the rich history of darkness in pop (as opposed to the rich history of misogyny in pop). Not for nothing does my friend Jess Burke describe her as "Fiona Apple for a Blumhouse future" and of all the paths to go down, that honestly feels like a pretty great one right now. [9]

Tobi Tella: Billie Eilish is one of the first true Gen Z pop stars, and as someone only a year or so older than her I'm impressed with how fresh her music feels on the pop landscape. The sense of dread that appears in most of her music is in full force here, and while I have found some of her music to be a little "2edgy4me," this works by fully leaning into it. It's unlike anything anyone else is making right now. [7]

Alfred Soto: If "Bury a Friend" is a gesture, an experiment -- as if Billie Eilish said, "Let me show how minimalist my music can be, and put in cool noises too" -- then its failure to be more than this is my failure. She's been tuneful before, which means she knows what she's doing. [6]

Jonathan Bradley: "Bury a Friend" sounds like the product of a musical landscape where anything can be heard on demand and none of it comes with context. Billie Eilish's artless murmur suggests that her roots lie in the DIY aesthetics of bedroom folk, but while her music can be wispy and personal in that mode, it wanders into other realms in which it seems not to realize it doesn't belong. This song is punctuated by producer Crooks intoning Eilish's name like a mixtape DJ's drop, while the shrieks that tear into the dark low-end pulse seem torn from Yeezus-era Kanye. There's even some Fiona Apple in the stops and starts punctuating her phrasing. Like Lorde before her, Eilish is adept at playing up the adolescent's attraction to darkness, and the haunted house atmosphere and lyrics about stapled tongues and glass-cut feet settle into a delicious murk. Perhaps most unsettling and most unexpectedly novel about it all is that Eilish doesn't sound like a paralysed gothic heroine. She sounds like one of the monsters. [8]

Katie Gill: Insert that Marge Simpson 'kids, could you lighten up a little?' reaction image here. It only makes sense that the hot new pop sensation is the musical distillation of nihilistic memes and the lolz I'm so depressed joke culture that's permeated the popular consciousness. To her credit, Eilish has her finger perfectly poised on the zeitgeist. Unfortunately, we've been dealing with the zeitgeist for at LEAST two years now. Such ironic detachment and 'I want to end me lmao' already feels out of date -- the fact that the song seems tailor-made to score an American Horror Story scene only dates it even more (those backing screams were a baaad choice). The main thing this does is make me wish that Eilish leaned in more towards her lighter fare. [5]

Vikram Joseph: I've been a Billie Eilish sceptic, but "Bury A Friend" is, if not quite Damascene, certainly revelatory. It feels deliciously, obscenely engrossing; that minimalist pulse, the mocking, nursery-rhyme motif ("What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?"), those swift, decisive industrial gut-punches, the breathtaking turns of pace and time-signature tightrope-play. Most of all, it's fun, especially when her vocal affectations come off like a demonic sonic negative of Lorde. It feels like her entire aesthetic coming together, a camp horror-flick dark-pop queen finally wearing the crown she's been threatening to unveil for a while now. [8]

William John: At 28 I feel far too old to be pontificating about Billie Eilish, but what I will say is that if their new formula for chart success is to mine the aesthetic of Róisín Murphy circa Ruby Blue, then I'm ready to submit to our new zillennial overlords. [7]

Iris Xie: I've been hearing Billie Eilish everywhere I go, and her music always vibrates with a moody, dark warmth while I move through thrift stores, coffee shops, and sidewalks. Reclaiming whisper-singing from Selena Gomez is a fantastic move, especially when paired with that slight rhythmic drumming, sudden starts and stops, and that little omnipresent danger that I miss so much from f(x)'s Red Light. Our times are escalating faster to some kind of destruction, but in the air, there is exhaustion and energy of both a defiant joy and a quiet numbness. "Bury a Friend," and her album overall embodies that energy in spades. [7]

Will Rivitz: Jump scares in horror movies suck; they're cheap, calculated cash-ins on human predilection to react badly whenever something threatening pops out from the underbrush. Much more difficult to pull off, and much more impressive in its execution and creativity when it succeeds, is the slow-burn thrill. When a ghoulish, uncertain threat is buried ever so imperceptibly below the surface, it roils adrenaline in the most painfully pleasant of ways, as we fail to put our finger on anything about what's about to destroy us except that, make no mistake, it will indeed destroy us. "Bury a Friend" nails that most sublime skin-crawl. The lowing bass and teeth-scraping industrial synths roll around the aural triggers that make every hair on a back stand up with the cold impersonality of coins circling a hyperbolic funnel forever, the end always implied but never achieved. Appropriate, too, since Billie Eilish's main triumph is capturing the slow-burn existential dread of living as a young person in a world thoroughly ruined by those who won't live to see out the ramifications of their present actions. Obliquely, that's "Bury a Friend," a nightmarish Borges y yo resurrection, endlessly Genius-ready especially given the original story now has a Genius annotation itself. (The internet continues to be bizarre.) Instrumentally and lyrically, it's a warped and terrifying celebration of a muddling and destruction of identity supercharged by the less savory bits of our constant interconnectedness; it is, in other words, the best summary of Billie Eilish she could possibly present to us. Eilish affirms our base fears that things are fucked, we're all irrevocably in shambles, and there's absolutely jack shit we can do about it; we might as well learn to celebrate where we're at, since there's nothing else awaiting us. [9]

Alex Clifton: I can't remember the last time I felt this astonished by a song, nor can I remember hearing anything this sublime. I mean this in the gothic sense -- something beautiful and terrifying and subsiding where you've just got to stand and soak it all in. "Bury a Friend" is every nightmare and melodramatic thought I had as a teenager set to music, the suspicion that I was a monster who was better off dead and everyone knew. It felt so plainly written on my skin. But it's not just dark and monstrous. Billie feels scared and sad on the chorus: when we all fall asleep, where do we go? Something in her voice is so vulnerable that I feel cut open myself just hearing it. I fear some older people may hear "Bury a Friend" and write it off as emo teenage poetry, but it's so much more than that. It's the honesty of Lorde's first album mixed in with the sharp crunch of being a teen in 2019, living in a world constantly on fire with questionable prospects for a future. I would expect nothing less from a teenager to be honest, especially one as talented as Eilish. I just wish I had had the courage to be this dark and messy when I was her age. [9]

Will Adams: So much of the Billie Eilish discourse concerns her aesthetic and how it relates to Gen Z, but it often misses a key part of her appeal: how electrifying her music sounds. Tactile, confronting and claustrophobic, Billie and her producer brother Finneas create music that tightens its grip and refuses to let go, and "Bury a Friend" is as good an example as any. Alternately screeching, skittering and booming with sub bass (like "Black Skinhead" crawling with spiders), it conjures up a nightmare you can't look away from. [9]

Katherine St Asaph: A game that is both fun and great for making yourself acutely aware of how fast the grave is yanking you down is asking yourself, and being honest: if you were a teen today, who would you stan? Would you be an Ariana Grande Teen? A Blueface Teen? A Billie Eilish Teen? The depressing truth is that I probably would've been a Lana Del Rey Teen, but I could see myself reluctantly liking this for its weird drama, its dramatic weirdness. I'm convinced people confused about why Billie's dark music appeals to teens have never themselves been teens, the time of life where you endless-repeat Nirvana (ask Dave Grohl) or Sarah Brightman's cover of "Gloomy Sunday" or "Bury a Friend" and often make it out regardless. The flavor of darkness here is more than a little Tim Burton, in the twisted-nursery-rhyme melody, but there's also more than a little "Black Skinhead" and "Night of the Dancing Flame," and how many teen sensations can you conjure those references up for? [9]

Stephen Eisermann: Billie Eilish, especially here, is the exact representation of what would happen if Lorde pulled a Jack Skellington and entered the portal in the trees to find herself in Halloween Town. The same intriguing vocal tics, off-beat metaphors, and bold production choices -- just decorated with horror-tinged jack-o-lanterns and ghost sheets. In other words, I love Billie and I love this song. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "Bury a Friend" is less a song and more an intentionally jarring collection of phrases -- even Eilish's individual lines sound cut off, as if they've been reassembled from a previously coherent whole. Not every piece works -- Crooks' vocal additions are unnecessary and some of Eilish's longer phrasings in the bridge are too stylized. Moreover, the picture that this collage is supposed to be forming never gets cleared up. And yet there's almost an illicit thrill to listening to a pop song that sounds like this, in all of its chaotic terror and joy. [6]

Edward Okulicz: In truth, this song feels like it runs out of gas, but its first 30 seconds are incredibly arresting. It's not that the rest of it is bad, I mean there's a bit where she sounds exactly like Róisín Murphy and that's never bad. Over the course of a bunch of singles, Eilish has used lots of existing musical tropes in an interesting way and built up a style that's unmistakeably her -- maybe I'm just disappointed she's taken it to complete fruition in half a minute and maybe there's nowhere else for her to go but to do a full-on macabre Glitterbeat thing. She's got fans that'll go with her to any place she chooses. [8]

Taylor Alatorre: I'm inclined to dislike most of the well-manicured teenage dramascapes that make up Billie Eilish's discography so far. Maybe it's the narcissism of generational differences -- sure, I was moody and disaffected as a 17-year-old, but I wasn't this kind of moody and disaffected. You're doing anhedonia all wrong, kids! Yet somehow, "Bury a Friend" is able to dislodge me from this self-consciousness by brandishing its own self-consciousness as a weapon and waging a merry war on itself. It's a staging ground for a bunch of one-off experiments and on-the-nose signifiers and 2spooky vocal tics and vintage 2013 alt-pop tropes, all of which seem to communicate: "This is a song that I wrote, and I can debase it however I want." It's squeamish about its own existence yet sure of its purpose, with a simple driving beat that yields to miscellany while warding off the specters of musical theater. Its high point is an archly written low point: the sneeringly drawn out "wowww." in response to a blunt confession of suicidality. If it turns out that reducing the stigma doesn't always lead to better outcomes, at least we got some good banter out of it. [8]

Joshua Copperman: Huh, I guess we are seeing the beauty at the end of culture. And it's suicidal, it's offensive, it's ugly. Then it's fake-deep, and it's edgy, because Heaven forbid we legitimize the concerns of teenagers. The common thing is supposed to be how, as a teenager, everything feels like it matters, but today's teens are growing up in a political moment when nothing feels like it does, if it ever will again. Okay, that's a bit much -- there's a chance that actual teens aren't like this, and this is what people whose brains have been poisoned by Twitter pundits think teenagers must be like. It can't be a huge coincidence, though, that "I wanna end me," "why do you care for me?" and "I'm too expensive!!!" all wound up in a Top 20 hit by a 17-year-old. Like any good writer, Eilish sublimates those fears into a horror movie song from the point of view of the monster under her bed, a pure Tumblr or r/writingprompts move. But with this many Spotify plays, with this much success, it's hard to shake the feeling that along with the stellar "idontwannnabeyouanymore," Eilish is actually onto something with The Youths. Finneas O'Connor's bonkers production, with dentist drills and the 12/8 "Black Skinhead" bounce, certainly helps this stand out. (Rob Kinelski, too, has crafted a mix more interesting than anything his more successful contemporaries like Serban Ghenea have done lately.) Underneath the grimdarkness, what really separates Eilish is the sense of humor; the nursery rhyme bridge seemed a bit obvious, but after hearing songs like "Bad Guy," Eilish sounds completely aware of the tropes she is using. I have no doubt this blurb will age badly if her music gets worse after this, but who cares when there's not much aging left to do? Lead us into the apocalypse, Billie and Finneas! [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[wileds]

so does he have a lower opinion of faunus since a lot of his houses help were faunus

wakes up early, sees this in my email notifs, hewwo ??

i can’t emphasize enough that love grew up a bit sheltered especially in the years immediately after he came into his semblance. his power is activated by shedding blood and being exposed to it. it was not a pleasant experience and it had real legal ramifications between the victim and love (a minor at the time of course) which brought on a surge of protectiveness from his parents as well as them using their political/social clout to win a favorable solution for love, basically sweeping the event under the rug, while also keeping love ignorant about what exactly happened to the person. which is why i still say that he has no criminal record. quite a bad idea in hindsight - love feels certain that he killed them and he was not given the chance to personally apologize to the family for it, if they would even have him at this point, and all of this began his feelings of shame around his semblance alongside its celebration from his tribe as a mark of charisma / a good warrior / what have you, which is why i’m always inches away from saying that love has a bit of a complex around his affinity which is … pretty unfortunately janus-faced when you really think about the contrary natures of his supposed fate: greatness or madness, or greatness even in madness - greatness is the central destiny here, the contrariness bolstered by stories of previous inheritors of their hereditary semblance who always fell into one of the two categories. the inheritor immediately before him was for sure bloodmad. which doesn’t help matters. love has a feeling that he would become so too if he fully indulged his semblance. maybe that’s paranoia or the aforementioned shame talking, but whatever, it’s genuinely how he feels.

why am i talking about semblance again.

back to the point, he was sheltered more after this event. a lot of the house help and hires were faunus so he did spend a lot of time with them when his parents were busy. yes seeing faunus in certain roles affected him, i know how iffy it can sound to say ‘i have a __ friend so i understand ___!’ or ‘i know many __, so __!’ his curiosity about some faunus traits will come across as ignorant or even affronting if done in the wrong way. and a question like ‘can i touch it?’ always vacillates between ok and wtf no. but in actuality he typically doesn’t bring attention to faunus traits at all because then he knows he won’t make a social faux pas and he’s taken way too many etiquette classes to blunder too badly at this point idk how he was as a kid, he was a fucking handful. but today he is a naturally sensitive person. has more tact than you might expect from his abundance. he’s not afraid to apologize or be corrected, at any rate. tends to notice/comment on someone’s overall attractiveness rather than specifics (he takes note of people’s attractiveness like people do the weather. it’s just a part of how he meets someone and it doesn’t need to mean anything). there’s no intentional othering going on when he thinks of faunus or meets one. also like … i’m sure historical figures such as the faunus queen of vacuo who led during the great war + the apparent egalitarianism of the society (but is it tho) has introduced some levity into vacuoan society and into love’s mind even if through history books or lessons or moments of exposure. going too far into the i don’t see species i see people direction is also an issue (kind of like the i don’t see color argument which negates imp history, current social/criminal/etc injustices, prejudice & racism, etc). but. i answered this ask a year ago and it’s still faithful to his attitude.

… after going to shade academy he at least feels ok to ask mai and aris questions too lol, rip if he’s ever said anything awkward or offensive to them. i am sure he has been offensive due to some part of his upbringing.

that said, all of the faunus in love’s life were not in subservient roles while growing up. some of his most impactful tutors were/are faunus. including one of his primary weapons & combat trainers who i am currently trying to create. her name is leila and she’s one of the lakhdari’s (alt name for the akhdar clan which his tribe belongs to) most formidable warriors. even though she flitted in and out of love’s life because she needed to go and kick ass somewhere, she is like one of his most favorite people ever. not pictured: little love, an only child, precocious and celebrated and sometimes feared with very few friends his own age, telling his badass adult trainer that they’re friends now ok? can i visit? what’s your scroll number? then they actually became friends and leila is always like, well, alright i guess. leila is an arabian oryx whose faunus trait are those horns and she is also literally a golden-eyed warrior (they have their own lore for golden-eyed warriors) (it’s a wip from my end but i gesture vigorously at love’s own gold eyes. when i say he’s fated he’s fuckin fated) … leila’s profile post is forthcoming mostly because i don’t know how the hell to edit gifs in ps for her graphic.

AND NOW THE CONNECTION.

the point of his tribe’s endogamy (marriage within one’s own group) is to preserve their hereditary semblance. it already skips generations instead of being passed down faithfully from parent to offspring. there is an element of blood purity for a blood affinity going on here. in a difficult place like vacuo you can understand why one might want to keep a semblance like that close and alive. the clarkia semblance plus their role as prominent dust merchants contributed to their wealth and influence today. in addition, the clarkias are a human tribe. so that reinforces things. the akhdar clan they belong to have both humans and faunus though, hence folks like leila. this dynamic even goes into his and ksenija’s relationship, who are second cousins i think … there was reluctance from some people in love’s life about letting them meet a lot, although their parents got along fine because love’s parents went the exogamous route. exogamy is when one marries someone outside one’s own group. isa married amina who is way outside the kin group although still of an equal (or higher tbh) socioeconomic status than isa, when the general tradition of the clarkia tribe is to marry within one’s own group. basically they all married for love and so they didn’t really give a fuck about faunus heritage when love like, cried and begged to skip out of lessons in order to see ksenija when he was little. family is so important to them.

the clarkias are a failing house because they’re in the dust industry, and that hasn’t been doing too hot in vacuo for a long while. love is trying to help save his family from obscurity. part of this means him keeping traditions and expectations like the above going. part of his decision in choosing to become a huntsman is because of this desire to keep them from obscurity, when the clarkias really have no reason or tradition of buying into the idea of a huntsman when they’ve been warring and fighting against grimm generations before shade academy ever popped up as the ““““only real source of order.””””” so love fully expects to marry a human too. it doesn’t stop who he associates with, befriends, flirts with, or sleeps with. but he’s gonna marry a human. he is currently engaged to one even if they kinda want to break it off, but even then love is gonna marry a human. if anyone thinks that’s problematic please call him out on it but he never talks about his betrothed or marriage expectations unless he has to, not because he’s ashamed (they’re actually very compatible! they just don’t want to marry each other) (also i have not ‘created’ his betrothed yet because this is going to be all disney aladdin / 1,001 nights mythos which i haven’t had the time to watch/read for the past. year … lol.) 

he is a member of vacuoan elite and marriage prospects or who his family has hired / continue to hire seriously does not mean that he personally thinks lesser of faunus, only that he grew up in an environment that has informed his life and expects certain things from him.

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Chapter Twenty-Five: The Wicked and the Divine”

Jughead has seen more “mob movies” than I have, so I can’t verify his “classic trope,” but he’s speaking my language

I found Archie’s Devil Wears Prada errand-montage zippy and playful, much like Hiram Lodge himself

especially the direction of the construction guy’s arm clapping Archie’s shoulder to add movement to the swerving transition (not a technical term) as he steps into the trailer

Hiram’s soft V-neck sweater is, I assume, cashmere

Veronica’s look is so inseparable from collars and pearls that she has a collar made of pearls sewn into her dress

RAS wanted a Veronica-confirmation episode, so by God, he is getting one, and Veronica’s age be damned! Hiram and Hermione wanted “the same monsignor” from Veronica’s baptism, who I guess has been on leave at the Vatican for five years okay!

Archie wants to know if Veronica will have “to memorize stuff”

Veronica’s confirmation sponsor is her grandmother, which is par for the course, as is volunteering at a soup kitchen for her like 8 hours of required community service. I also had to write a report on Saint Lucy and pray a rosary in front of an abortion clinic. Veronica probably won’t have to do that, since you can’t say abortion on Riverdale

do soup kitchens have any actual paid employees, or are they all stocked with kids who just need volunteer hours/Matthew Goode’s character from The Good Wife in his spare time wearing that blue sweatshirt to characterize him as being “just that nice”?

Hiram is such a fucking soap opera star when he says Veronica has made him “the happiest father ALIVE.” like, alive?

“ISN’T SHE A MIRACLE?”

on FP’s kitchen table is the same kind of half-gallon of milk that Jughead was drinking from the morning after his birthday party. the Andrewses kept a spare half-gallon of skim milk just for Jughead in their fridge? the nicest thing Fred ever did for him

Jughead doubts it: Jughead is VERY sassy with Sheriff Keller and FP loves it!!!! because Jughead can have an anti-authoritarian ’tude WITHOUT NECESSARILY being “a gang member” at that particular moment!

FP is so crisp and put together! FP looks GREAT! what up though, Gladys?

wow I can’t believe Jughead’s article wielded so much political power that its legal ramifications echo throughout the entire episode, as if Jughead were Nellie Bly

“CAN I GET A QUOTE?” this is the Jughead that FP plainly adores

Jughead and Betty both drink skim milk, so, their wedding will be soon

are men on webcams actually fool enough to ask the webcam girls if they can MEET IN REAL LIFE? I have no knowledge about this world, but I would imagine the answer would be “Have you ever seen a film, ever?”

50 Shades of Betty: Betty looks pretty great in that severe black fucking wig and I still want an apology from Chuck specifically about dissing the wig

“Catholic chic” means veils optional, like the stole in black tie

What damn high school in America: Jughead doesn’t have to wear the preppy Lodge uniform, I see? shame

Best costume bit: Betty’s heart sweater is possibly my favorite thing she’s ever worn. I want it BADLY

ARE YOU TELLING ME HIRAM LODGE WANTS TO SUE A HIGH SCHOOL NEWSPAPER?

“DEFAMATION OF CHARACTER”? IS THERE SOMETHING HE WROTE THAT WASN’T TRUE? ARE YOU ~NOT~ BUILDING BOWLING ALLEYS ON NATIVE AMERICAN LAND? I will fucking suit up and be Jughead’s lawyer on this. as has been demonstrated, I have seen every episode of The Good Wife and can probably practice law in Illinois (for instance I know that in Illinois you only need one-person consent to secretly record a conversation)

I love Betty and Jughead being in the same room, of course, but Betty’s gentle, poking “And...did you?” is EXCEPTIONALLY cute. Betty is so cute. and sometimes scary

Jughead’s least clueless moment of the season so far is him looking back knowingly at Betty when she says maybe he would do it to “avenge Toni’s grandfather”

“WE’RE PALS.”

Jughead kind of looks great leaning against the window. like the lighting or something. God, please let me one day see the two of them making out with Betty in her cheerleading uniform

okay, I thought Betty and Jughead, IT WAS IMPLIED, had already had sex, because I was shown them waking up together after they had slept together in the trailer. apparently they LITERALLY slept together. APPARENTLY THEY HAVE NOT HAD SEX YET. I should have known, from the sleeper biceps, that Jughead was still pining IN THIS WAY, FOR THAT! I should have KNOWN Betty had not RIDDEN JUGHEAD INTO THE SUNSET YET. fuck! what am I doing!

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: I also emotionally defend Betty’s ecru lie about not having “done anything” with anyone since the breakup since, as one will recall, immediately after her and Archie’s kiss they stared in horror at each other and have not talked about it since, thus cancelling it out as a real kiss (this is also a statute of Illinois law)

Hermione Lodge has some sort of skinny gold Lothlórien belt on over her deep merlot blazer

Archie > Dawson: Archie is sweet when he apologizes for making Pop double-check the order: “It’s more to make sure I get everything right.”

Archie hears Pop’s slip about Hiram being “the boss,” but other things happen and he FORGETS! at what inopportune time will he remember? when he’s physically embracing Jughead Jones?

although couldn’t Pop just play it off like Hiram is Archie’s boss? think on your feet, Pop

for the record I love Agent Adams and his whole deal. his plan is so insane that it might be brilliant. I just do still wish he were being played by either Sterling K. Brown or Max Greenfield

he doesn’t appreciate Archie’s attitude: “Is there a problem?” yeah, uh, Archie’s like twelve years old and not a trained undercover field agent? I love this stupid shit

oh, everyone’s being evicted from Sunnyside? if only Jughead hadn’t driven the southside’s only lawyer out of town with Kenickie Murdoch’s switchblade

OH MY GOD HERMIONE’S PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

according to everyone’s facial expressions, Veronica is under the impression she is doing good political maneuvering inviting the McCoys to her confirmation, Hermione is stunned she did so, Veronica really wanted to sing a solo, and Josie doesn’t know why she has to fucking apologize for anything

Josie being Veronica’s “gift” from Mayor McCoy is horrifying

Sixth period is Intro to Film: Cruel Intentions is a fantastic Catholic standard, containing as it does cocaine, “experimental” girl-on-girl French kissing, Ryan Phillippe’s ass, the line “I'm the Marcia fucking Brady of the Upper East Side and sometimes I want to kill myself,” and implied step-sibling fucking, all of which I think Riverdale should include more of

the blue and red lighting inside the Wyrm is still nice. does the Wyrm even count as a dive? strippers probably wouldn’t waste their time at dives

wow there are some true beards in this crowd

okay…..the idea that Tall Boy is a better suspect than Jughead…...because he’s physically taller…..is singularly the most fantastic thing…..I have ever heard…..

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the sound of Archie shifting on the leather of Hiram’s couch is real good

“I RESPECT A MAN WHO WOULD GO TO SUCH EXTREMES.” HIRAM PLEASE!!!!! ARCHIE IS TOO DUMB FOR THIS!!!!!!

Gay?!: Ben? who the fuck is Ben? who is BEN? who the fuck?

OH MY GOD Jughead got in to see the mayor AGAIN! is Ethel Muggs her secretary???

Jughead interrupted Mayor McCoy eating her salad at her desk

for like the third time in the series she says she’s “always liked” Jughead, which, fat lot of good that’s done him

in Riverdale there is a red uniform at the soup kitchen, because even THE POOR must abide by aesthetics

Archie doesn’t know what cutting cigars means

Archie’s shoulders are nice under that polo

Betty’s plan about “treat it like a missing person’s case” and making it like this snooping Blue and Gold intrigue thing is of course welcome as a pretense for the two of them working together (on the show’s part), but in reality it’s just the fucking bare minimum that THE AUTHORITIES should ALREADY BE FUCKING DOING THEMSELVES

at this point I went to bed and had a very gripping, sexy dream about Veronica and Jughead. Veronica and Jughead

“Damn good coffee”: Hiram floating having to “bring Archie in” on the Lodge Family Tammany Hall is only slightly less absurd than the Federal Bureau of Investigation having already done so. what does Archie need to be brought in on, exactly? he’s just Veronica’s arm candy. he barely knows what a cigar is

while it is STILL ODD that Veronica has done a 180 on her accepting her father’s criminality, she still holds Archie up as a beacon of goodness, because, like I said, shoulders, polos

Jughead’s “order of the Ophidians” as he tapes up the Missing poster is either, so far as I can tell, an extremely obscure MMORPG reference or he’s just calling them snakes, but like, in Latin

Penny didn’t die of gangrene from her blistering wound like on the Oregon trail? probably a plus

FP is in some deep pain here. this is so far beyond his worst fears about Jughead joining the Serpents that he like never even fucking considered—I NEVER FUCKING CONSIDERED IT, IT WAS FUCKING RIDICULOUS

I certainly don’t think Penny’s terms are like, PARTICULARLY OUT OF LINE

ooooh Jughead’s little snipe at his father for fridging Jason!

I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH “YOU WILL BE THE DEATH OF US,” THE ANGUISHED REALIZATION IN FP’S EYES, GLADYS STAY AWAY!!!!!

I can’t believe the sixth season of The Wire takes place in Riverdale and doesn’t even have Sonja Sohn playing Agent Adams

Alice’s angel wing-white Founding Father blouse and Betty’s textured peach sweater

Hal is REALLY skittish about Chic, considering that HE’S HIS SON, SO FAR AS WE KNOW. but Hal hordes important information until the bitter end, so he probably just knows some shit

The Blossom Whoever the fuck’s spawn: “He’s a stranger. That’s my beef.”

“It’s been ~some time~ since my last confession” is usually the most accurate clocking I could give as well

I love the very dangerous clusters of candles inside the confessional

These students are legally children: NO ONE is helping Veronica. Veronica is trying to “find her thing” like, in the dark, lit by votive candles

I loved the circle of beautiful mob wives drinking wine and talking about how praying to “the Almighty” for “forgiveness” makes them feel better #aspirational

Hiram isn’t fucking around with Mr. Man “disrespecting Pop Tate.” Pop Tate is an angel, doing his best out here in a chaotic world. his poutine is probably great!

Archie’s stuck using the wrong kind of plunger

Poppa Poutine says Hiram lost his “mojo” in “the joint”

is Poppa right? is Hiram weak? if you subtract the Andrews boys, he doesn’t seem to have any problems

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: Josie is back with killer witchy earrings, a lovely dress, and a fierce hold on the remainder of her personal agency

of course it’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony” but with harps. you know the Verve doesn’t get any royalties from that song? are the Rolling Stones the worst band in the world?

I LIKE THE SWOOSH FROM LARRY OR WHOEVER AND POPPA BACK TO ARCHIE WATCHING THEM

the back of the church is bathed in purple, the altar is yellow, the monsignor is in BRIGHT PALM SUNDAY RED, and this is what church should have always been like

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Hermione’s strong-shouldered structured white jacket is amazing and Jughead forgoed his hat, to be respectful

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: slightly strangely, Cheryl isn’t there at all this episode, but what we are truly robbed of is seeing what she would have worn to the confirmation

Veronica has a SUPER-SWEET very light pink/purple manicure!

Summer + Blair = Veronica: you better believe when Veronica was asked if she renounced Satan I was like, IS SHE GOING TO LOOK AT HER FATHER AND STORM OUT OF THAT CHURCH????? I THOUGHT SHE MIGHT!!!!!

instead I got an amazing thematic light show about Veronica choosing to believe in Archie’s unflagging internal compass and following his light (“the light of the Lord”!)

HE GIVES HER A TINY HAPPY NOD WHILE SHE’S THINKING, LIKE “YEAH BABE I KNOW YOU RENOUNCE SATAN!!!!!”

Veronica was rich: Veronica does look like a fucking angel up there

wow, Dilton isn’t DJing the afterparty? weird

why are Betty and Archie standing together AT ALL?

Abuelita is 100% right about pinching Archie’s cheek and Archie goes with it because he is respectful

Jughead eats: Jughead is so tormented he neglects the buffet!!!!!!

Jughead’s suit is very nice. I like the progression of his wearing better and better suits

Betty takes the news of Jughead’s CONFESSION that he “cut” Penny pretty stoically, as she did boil a guy once

POOR JUG IS RIGHT, IT DIDN’T EVEN MATTER!

Closed Captioning tells me the junkyard guy’s name is “JUNKYARD STEVE,” MY MAN

“If only we lived in a town where the answer could be no.”

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: Jughead in his leather jacket OVER HIS SUIT JACKET is pretty good!

“BY ANY CHANCE WAS THIS GENTLEMAN TALL?” OH MY GOD!!!! CASE FUCKING CLOSED BOYS!!!!!!!

Hermione hauling Veronica back for the photographer

Archie looking up from behind the closing art deco elevator doors

The female gaze: Archie is of course so handsome and perfectly proportioned in his suit. his handsomeness is such a given that I take it wholly for granted, like how when not suffering an allergy attack I can breathe from both nostrils but when one hits and I’m sneezing up my guts I’m like, air coming in from both nostrils? true bliss, I’ll never forget it again

God, did he get rid of his tailored cranberry Blossom suit? not the WORST crime committed in Riverdale, but probably worthy of eviction

Fifth period is AP English: as @hangingonyourwords noted, Archie knowing the word “coup” is VERY surprising! GOOD, ARCHIE

Hiram Lodge is, I think, listening to that song from Carmen while pouring himself a stiff drink, the massive Rory Gilmore portrait of Veronica over one shoulder and the blue light of an antipodean sea streaming in over the other, using a rotary phone to call in A MURDER

Tall Boy having to suffer interrogation by Jughead, whom he surely must have always despised, is his final indignity 

Jughead calls Betty “one of us,” which has not been given enough fanfare by ANYONE in the show! Betty is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT as much a Serpent as Jughead, unless Jughead’s mother is a Serpent, except that she hasn’t had to shout their stupid rules into someone’s face yet

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: “YOU HAVEN’T ANSWERED MY SON’S QUESTION.”

the poor Serpents have been twisted around rich northsiders’ fingers for so long that they don’t have any fucking idea what to be doing when NOT at the behest of a blackmailer or bribery. I don’t know what it means to be a Serpent except that it means you’re poor and comely. and VERY civic-minded

“You’re a Judas, Tall Boy. And an idiot.”

Gay.: Sweet Pea raises both his arms to vote

FP’s gonna run Tall Boy out of town. a word of advice: one town over is not far enough

hell, Archie’s seen all those mob movies too! he and Jughead must’ve watched them together while Jughead was sleeping in his bedroom

Archie’s speech to Veronica is GOOD, ARCHIE, and what Veronica gets out just reinforces my thought that Hiram is literally starting a second town under Mayor McCoy’s nose, which would concern me expect that it has been definitely shown that even after things are executed on Riverdale I confuse myself and am invariably exactly wrong

I would probably kiss Archie too if he looked at me like that and said “I’m with you,” which I think explains Betty

HAHAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY!!!!!! SOMETHING IN THE WATER IN FP’S TRAILER

Jughead’s suspenders? a startling plus!

I like the quietness of “Maybe we can ask Veronica on Monday.” it reminded me of Archie’s face-saving some-other-time-definitely promise to go to the library with Jughead

“Maybe we should just investigate quietly until we know more.”

BLESSED BE THE CHILDREN and Jughead’s brusque scoff at himself for saying “my darkness”

in a move that the last few episodes haven’t shown him as having enough sense to make, Jughead puts his hand, not on Betty’s hand, but directly on the skirt of her dress

also Jughead knows that dress zippers have a point where you think it’s gone all the way down but really you’ve got a little further to go otherwise you can’t get the waistline over the hips? Jug’s got a little bit of game going on!

I like the silhouette of Jughead’s Adam’s apple

while Jughead is doing an excellent job delicately checking in with Betty’s sacral chakra, with his bare hand, I don’t want to overlook either his own gently crossed ankles as he holds her or his AMAZING SOCKS

when Betty tells him she needs to tell him something, he EXHALES a “What?” before he says “What is it?” WHOOP

she is missing a pretty sick meatloaf or pork of some more at her mother’s dinner table

I didn’t think there was a physiognomically scarier white guy around than Chic himself, but I was wrong!!!! it’s definitely that guy at the door!!!!!!

oh shit, Archie sort of got somebody (else) killed. this is like when Jughead didn’t mean to but definitely got somebody’s face beaten in by Tall Boy and Serpent Baby—holy shit what happened to that kid!!!! where did Serpent Baby go???

Certified pedigree: OKAY SENDING THE STATUE HEAD TO HIRAM LODGE VIA A CONFIRMATION “PRESENT” TO HIS DAUGHTER IS A PRETTY GREAT MOVE. I ASSUME THIS WAS YOU, FP JONES. FP IS REALLY GOOD AT PUTTING WORDLESS THREATENING MESSAGES INTO BOXES

in the shot bingo of Riverdale, the middle box would have to be Betty coming through her front door and pausing because she hears something suspicious

Mädchen Amick, MÄDCHEN AMICK: the squishy sound effect of the rags on the wet floor? her perfect hair? her bright blue turtleneck? “Elizabeth, did you lock the front door?” Alice is already three steps ahead!!! Alice Alice Alice!!!!!

Alice and FP have now both cleaned up somebody else’s murder’s cranial blood (I’m assuming Chic clocked this guy, which means it was probably Melody), further proof they belong together

Please protect Betty: Betty fucking Jughead probably saved her life

Next week: Cheryl shoots a bow and arrow!!! into my heart!!!!!!!!!

[plunder-heaven-and-devour-god]

Tropes!

My brother and I are discussing how to put out tropey indulgent media out there while still making original content that is aware of its environment. 

We were looking at tropes and stupidities that we never get tired of in movies/books/games and why we still kind of want them in our content. For example, I can’t get enough of Enemies to Lovers and the bro loves the Jerk with a Heart of Gold Trope. How do you incorporate that into new original ways to stories that still feature a socially conscious voice?

You cannot slap on traits of that trope and expect it to work. You cannot frame the shortcomings of the trope as ideal and you cannot gloss over the ramifications of the trope. Discard what is harmful, take what you love, and run with it. 

EDUCATE YOURSELF, really though, figure out the shortcomings of this trope. Where does it fail? Where does it succeed? I know that my Enemies to Lovers falls through A LOT! How many times do you find  they’re battling each other and clearly the writers weren’t aware of the rules of said trope and they end up being ultimately flat and abusive? The Byronic Hero being the other one people get wrong A LOT. How do you tread that line with elements that can easily run into abusive and violent (or fucking stupid for that matter)? Same for the Jerk with a Heart of Gold  trope, which done properly is great. How many of us have fallen prey to any character who cracks wise and makes bad decisions but ultimately loves and cares? If done badly it treads into dismissive/belittling/abusive 

To give examples of two shortcomings and two successes with these tropes I’ll offer up:

Byronic Hero:

Good: Mr Rochester 

Bad: Literally any bad YA love interest

“Byronic heroes are charismatic characters with strong passions and ideals, but who are nonetheless deeply flawed individuals who may act in ways which are socially reprehensible because he's definitely contrary to his mainstream society. A Byronic hero is on his own side and has his own set of beliefs which he will not bow nor change for anyone. A Byronic hero is a character whose internal conflicts are heavily romanticized and who himself ponders and wrestles with his struggles and beliefs. Some are portrayed with a suggestion of dark crimes or tragedies in their past.” THE LITERAL BYRONIC HERO TROPE PAGE

I feel like that biblical paragraph sums up the Byronic Hero. Where lets say Rochester and Frankenstein or their modern equivalents never have their behaviour or actions framed as good, we still find ourselves engaging with them. It’s indulgent in its admission. It has to be your bag, and it’s that you have to be here for. You have to like engaging with a character that has done bad things but still has enough emotional relatability that instills fascination. 

What is not fascinating/enjoying/attractive is watching bad YA that frames these bad qualities as ideal or go as far as to fetishize them. For instance, the possessive boyfriend angle ‘cause it’s hot is one of my PET PEEVES. YOU WILL ALWAYS GET MORE TRACTION WITH FRAMING THEM AS BAD THAN HAVING THEM DO CREEPY SHIT AND BANKING ON US EMOTIONALLY ENGAGING WITH THEM POSITIVELY. (Looking at you Tiger’s Curse)

You have to be aware where the trope works and where it doesn’t. The authors of bad YA have the intent to make them conflicted/tragic/flawed but don’t really want to examine what made those byronic heroes enjoyable. Instead they take surface attributes and slap them on. Byronic Hero is hiding a wife in the attic (BAD and framed as such)! Bad YA Love Interest is demeaning and patronizing to flirt (BAD and framed as good!) Challenges God and Nature and is NOW A FATHER (Not So Great Frankenstein and not framed as such) . Bad YA Love Interest is physically possessive because that is what this demographic finds sexy (BAd and framed as Good)

Here is an alternative! YA Love interest does bad shit and its not framed as anything good! The protag can react with more autonomy than :Oh that’s hot and my reader’s will think so too! The protag can be dismissive, angry, or shitty right back! No one is absolved! But you can still engage with them on a more nuanced level. You can suddenly make connections with the Byronic Hero because you understand their fear or their conflict, rather have it be a lazy flashback to explain why your bad YA Love Interest is being shitty. 

How to be indulgent: Make your awful characters awful and frame them as such! IF you’re able to create a subtle character that warrants the trope then clearly they have what it takes to be engaging! 

The Jerk with a Heart of Gold trope:

Good: Iron Man (I know people with debate this but we like him in this house so go with it) 

Bad: Any sitcom husband ever

“A person you would expect to be a big Jerkass has some redeeming qualities behind their tough demeanor. Occasionally, they'll try to make it a Hidden Heart of Gold.” - The Jerk with a Heart of Gold TV Tropes Page. 

Awareness is a big factor in incorporating this trope into new ideas and new content because I don’t think this one is ever going away. It obviously manifests in different capacities and genres. But I chose the above examples because they’re familiar, and can be played for drama and laughs. 

Tony Stark is a good iteration Jerk with a Heart of Gold because his actions aren’t framed as harmless or irrelevant. He is a hot mess, he says it himself. He makes bad decision after bad decision and endangers himself and others in the process. Why does he still have a heart of gold? He still gets the “save the cat moment” and he is given time to show his conflict and reasoning as relatable.  He creates Ultron, sides with the UN in Civil War (I still see a lot of his motivation as valid which to each their own when it comes to that movie). He does so out of guilt and the desperate need to hold himself accountable. Being the only person on the avengers who fights by ways of inventions he has understood the consequences of bringing this technology in the world and stepping up an arms race. And yet he continues to fight. To an audience we see his shortcomings as an individual. And yet we feel for him. He is framed with a more subtle dialogue, he is flawed, he tries to be heroic, but he has no clue what he’s doing, and continues anyways.        

I bring Sitcom Husband up because so often show writers will create Sitcom Husband with harmful and toxic male coded traits in mind. They are:

Callous, lazy, clueless, domineering, stupid, always wrong, uglier than their partner, enforce toxic gendered norms, homophobic, transphobic, and/or racist? 

You are not framing your Sitcom Husband’s actions as shitty and bad and worthy of changing. They are being framed as commonplace, expected, and normal. These are not just “jerk” things to do, they are emblematic of larger social issues that many sitcom writers shouldn’t be allowed to tackle. There is the opportunity to have characters that evolve and change but they aren’t allowed because they represent you, the male viewer, and you are shitty and unable of changing. And to all the other genders out there: this is your lot and life, this is how people will treat you. 

Flawed Superhero sides with the UN (Not Ideal but Framed with Good intentions). Sitcom Husband cant remember anything relevant about children’s lives (NOT GREAT but framed as commonplace instead emblematic of a larger issue).

To give an example of Sitcom dads who don’t hit this bad note: Bob from Bob’s Burgers is great, he’s tired of his family’s Shenanigans, but loves them and would do anything for them. An example of Jerk with a Heart of Gold that doesn’t have his shitty actions framed as okay but is still likeable (sounds a bit Byronic Heroish but he’s not trust me). 

The Lens:

Gender

The Byronic Hero and the Jerkass with a Heart of Gold are very gender laden tropes as well. The moment you apply these tropes to people who are not cis men, they transform in meaning, and not to mention, there are BARELY ANY OF THEM. Just trying to find villains who are just cis women with proper writing is a task in 2018. These terms get applied to men and their definitions are validated by their interaction with heroines or other men. 

The failed Byronic Hero is aimed at “female audiences”. It’s a tangled snare of a male content creators guessing at what “women” want and women who have fetishized and internalized the failures of this trope. All come to the conclusion that “chicks dig bad boys”. Not to be that person, but it also vastly misunderstands the appeal that Byronic Heroes have for all genders. It is extremely difficult to create new content that pays homage to this trope without hitting the pitfalls of most media. 

The failed Jerk with a Heart of Goal is aimed at a gender dichotomous audience. It’s a snub of content creators of what they think, you, man or woman, are. The faults are framed as inevitable manifestations of gender and yet still excusable because these jerk related tendencies are just part of being man or a woman, and not a vast social system that favours few and marginalizes many. This extends to race and sexuality as well. Your jerkishness is thanks to your identity, and therefore, unchangeable. 

Race

From a race perspective? They’re all white. We are at a point in Western Media, at the very least, where diversity is becoming an increasing demand. But with media content creators still being part of an out of touch racial group, it’s difficult to see any character, let alone anyone with the discussed tropes represented. We are at the point where your diversity, if a larger role, is going to be portrayed as perfect. This is a major issue I take with creating poc, and woc characters, not to mention characters of different gender and sexual identities. There aren’t enough diverse content creators to get us past this block of creators making them perfect because they don’t know how to make a human character who is also of color. 

This makes the Jerkass with a Heart of Gold impossible to tackle. We are starting to see more fleshed out characters nowadays. It is still a fairly recent sensation to HAVE A SELECTION to chose from.

I would love it if Byronic Heroes and Jerks With A Heart of Gold came in color. We are meant to watch white guys do bad shit and engage with the conflict of their character. And as a mixed race women it is definitely a weird place to sit when one does enjoy tropes like that. IT’s even more unsettling when we can’t extend that empathetic engagement  to men of color, or woc, or god forbid, trans people. (let everyone have a byronic hero honestly)

And in a world of hate crimes and deplorable race relations, what is the relevancy of this trope? What is the relevancy of this trope in a visual mass media already saturated with badly written YA Love Interest or Not So Deep Byronic Heroes?

I’m not an expert, but as a  consumer of books/tv/movies/etc I don’t think fiction is the root of all mankind’s evil and I don’t think fading this trope out of visual mass media is going to get rid of it. I, personally, think we need more content creators of color, of different gender identities, and different sexualities reinterpreting Jerk Ass with a Heart of Gold and the Byronic Hero.

Gender Binary and Sexuality

I chose these two tropes because they’re traditionally VERY gender related. And I mention this to clarify that the market is aimed at a gender binary: straight girl or straight boy. Gays, Bis, Non Binary, Gender fluid, or trans folk, for example, are left out of the equation of: what do they want to see in media?

I do know that for as long as evil has existed there has always been a very clear coding as to what the villain’s sexuality might be. It’s clearly deplorable how literally the only representation a huge marginalized community get will be in the form of a morally or sexually debauched villain. Which is why I will never forgive LeFou being made gay (you couldn’t have picked any other character from your 600000 other features Disney?). 

Also as a Cis woman, I don’t feel like I can do an accurate run down of how indulgent tropes fail or succeed with a LGBT lens. I have a base idea of WHAT NOT TO DO but I would rather see other people talk about it! 

 So PLEASE! Add to this discussion! I would love to hear about which tropes you love but where media fails you and in what capacity! Or where they’ve gone right! 

But as someone who loves their tropey enemies-to-lovers and villains I will keep returning to them in my media consumption and I be subject to paying them homage when the time is appropriate! 

That being said! I had no clue this would get so long.

[fourteenacross]

okay so now that you've seen all of them and hashtag love them all, what is your Official Ranking of the pierres?

OKAY, ANON I spent a longer time on this then I probably should have and I’m kind of embarrassed about how short it is after all the time I spent thinking about it.

The problem with loving all Pierres is that it’s hard to decide how and why to elevate a certain performance above another. There is SO MUCH going on in this show and with this character in particular that there are a million ways for an actor to shine or to give a particular interpretation that knocks my socks off. So, here is my scientific analysis* of all the Pierres I’ve seen, complete with conclusions.

*Not actually very scientific

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, THE NUMBERS

Scott x2Groban x1Malloy x1Oak x1

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, THE OVERVIEW

My slide into loving Pierre was slow and steady, not as immediate as with some of the other characters. My first love (and still my fave) when walking out of the show the first time was Sonya. The second time, Natasha had my heart, and Dolokhov stole it right after through a talkback we saw with Nick Choksi. I liked Pierre at the start, I liked his arc, but it wasn’t until I fought with some rando on tumblr about how gr8 Pierre is that I began to realize how resonant parts of his arc were. Spending time listening to the words on the cast recording and reading the lyrics and thinking about the story started to lodge Pierre into my heart. I think I reblogged the “and this bright star / having traced its parabola” verse like, five times between December 2015 and November 2016 because it was so resonant.

What really sealed it once and for all was seeing the show for the first time on Broadway. Our first seats at the Imperial were right around Pierre’s salon, which gave me a super up-close view of the emotions that Pierre goes through over the course of the show. Obviously, when you’re watching this show you always feel present in the narrative (and I have a whole other post somewhere within me about how the set and theatre decor create this liminal safe space), but sitting that close to Pierre and watching him through portions of the show, I felt extra present in his arc. We were right there for “Pierre” and “The Duel” and “Dust and Ashes” and “Pierre and Natasha” and “The Great Comet of 1812,” watching him have these tiny revelations that build up into a larger revelation. It was lovely, and anyone who says “Ugh, I can’t believe you would sit on the stage, you miss so much” doesn’t realize how much more you gain from being close enough to touch the characters as they go through these events and deal with the personal ramifications.

So, I liked Pierre right off the bat, I grew ever fonder in the long stretch between ART and Broadway, and I really hit the level of just adoring him after seeing that first Broadway performance.

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, THE PLAYERS

Each of the guys I saw played Pierre in an almost entirely different way than the others, which is one of my favorite things about theatre. I’ve tried to explain to my parents when I was younger and seeing Rent like it was my job and to friends who haven’t had the privilege to experience theatre as a repeat customer how incredibly unique an experience it is. Every actor is going to take something different off the page and thus give something different to the audience. With a show like this, backed by hundreds of pages of background information and years and years of adaptations and such a diverse body of material, that’s especially true. 

eta: I should add, too, that I’ve never discussed acting choices with these gentlemen. This is entirely based on my interpretations of what I saw them doing on stage.

GROBAN: Groban’s Pierre is actively angry. He’s mad at himself for wasting his life and mad at the world for disappointing him. His “Pierre” is almost aggressive in places. And his suicidality in “The Duel” is more of the “FUCK THIS I AM DONE” variety. You get the impression that he wants to shake the world by the shoulders and say, “This is it? This is what we get? This is what’s worth all the suffering and garbage? Fuck you.” His revelation in “Dust and Ashes” is similarly aggressive. He hits this place where he realizes he can’t die yet because there are things in life that he’s missing, things that he’s keeping himself from having and he has to find them and he’s lamenting his own worthlessness while also resolving to move forward, goddammit, if only to spite himself and the world. This attitude reaches its peak in “Pierre and Anatole,” where you really think the dude is gonna beat the shit out of Anatole, and then we slowly get to watch that aggression leave him as that song winds down and he realizes what he’s done and what he’s doing. It continues that was through “Pierre and Andrey” as he sees Andrey’s anger at Natasha, and he perhaps, begins to see how miserable that angry lifestyle as left Andrey, all the while continuing to struggle with the concept of love he began to explore in “Dust and Ashes.” Meeting Natasha at the end opens him to this world of tenderness and innocence and love that he had thought was beyond him. He spends “The Great Comet of 1812” in awe of that revelation.

MALLOY: Dave’s Pierre is more…sad. His “Pierre” is more despair and longing. He’s TIRED. He can’t DO IT anymore, the world is SO MUCH and he’s just DONE. He’s awkward and hunched and he’s given up. I think Dave’s Pierre is maybe the Pierre that I relate to most because he’s depressed in a way that I get depressed, that sort of whole-body listlessness. His arc from “The Duel” to “Dust and Ashes” is straight up giving up in the former and then falling into his desperation in the latter. He’s asking these questions and making these observations about himself because he doesn’t know the answers and he desperately wants to. He starts act two with this new zeal for finding these answers and he just can’t sustain it, even as he’s trying to push through and be this other person. His “what I wouldn’t give to be like him” in “Preparations” reads as a reflection of this new take on life that he was trying to push himself into. He wants to be the person who just takes his lot in life and is able to wring the best out of it, but he’s not. He’s befuddled as the nonsense with Natasha and Anatole plays out and that slides into anger at Anatole for both throwing this opportunity and not even realizing how badly he’s fucked up. The last three songs start with him being depressed and caught up in the middle of this triangle and really despairing that if no one else can can find fulfillment in life–Anatole and Andrey and Natasha–then how can he expect to find it himself, and then having that moment with Natasha, moved by her kindness, struggling to understand her the same way he struggled to understand Andrey, and being so moved his entire perspective changes. He’s also the awkwardest Pierre by far and I love him for that.

SCOTT: Scott’s Pierre is somewhere between Malloy and Groban. He’s more frustrated than angry, but he also has qualities of having given up the way Dave has. He’s looking for answers the same way that Dave is, but it’s less frantic desperation and more exasperated that he’s spent years looking for answers and he’s still back at square one and everyone is enjoying life, but he can’t seem to figure out how to do it. His Act 2 brings this all crashing down as he realizes that all these people who he thinks do have a good life with their act together are just as fucked up as he is, specifically Andrey and Natasha, but also to a lesser degree, Anatole. “Pierre and Natasha” was very fragile and probably the most like Oak’s. He doesn’t quite have Groban or Oak’s charisma and he doesn’t have Dave’s self-deprecation, but he makes up for that in other ways. He nails those two spoken lines with a sort of quiet forthrightness that none of the other Pierres hit in quite the same way, and as he was the first Pierre I saw, he really set the standard and I feel like I compare all the other readings to this one. 

OAK: Oak’s Pierre is sad. He’s on his way to that Malloy-esque despair but hasn’t hit rock bottom yet. Malloy’s sadness is so complete that it’s more like the numbness of depression, whereas Oak’s Pierre is still feeling things sharply and trying to stop himself before he gets that bad, but unsure how to do so. It added a sort of poignancy to “Dust and Ashes” in the opposite way of Malloy’s–Malloy’s “Dust and Ashes” has that poignancy because his Pierre has hit rock bottom and is seeing the light for the first time and just awed by it. Oak’s Pierre is saved from hitting rock bottom by that moment in “Dust and Ashes.” His anger at Anatole is INTENSE, as is his sadness at seeing Andrey throw Natasha aside. His “Pierre and Natasha” has him in over his head and unsure how to proceed. He wasn’t prepared to play this role in people’s lives, especially when he doesn’t even have his own shit together. He’s mired in confusion, so much so that it’s not until the “Pierre grew confused” that it clicks for him that that’s what’s going on. He really wants to connect with Natasha and is honestly upset that he can’t seem to do it. In “The Great Comet of 1812,” he has this slow revelation of what it means to be a person that’s a perfect reflection of that moment in “Dust and Ashes” that he decides to live, so soft and deep in counterpoint to the frenzy of before. 

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, ET CETERA

Malloy wins “No, I am enjoying myself at home this evening” for comic perfection, though Oak is only seconds behind him for the AMAZING awkward grin and thumbs up he gives the audience. 

Oak wins the start of “The Duel” because he imbues his performance with an almost goofy quality that works so well for Pierre just letting himself be free for one moment before it gets spoiled.

Malloy wins “Nothing matters–or everything matters, it all the same.” I’m still thinking about his delivery of this line and how it fits in with his Pierre so well.

Scott wins “Nothing but the candle in the mirror”–Scott’s got a lovely, melodic voice–less intense than Groban’s and less gruff than Dave’s and fuller than Oak’s.

Groban wins the toast in “The Abduction.”

Malloy wins the “Whaaaaaat"s by FAR.

Oak wins “Pierre and Anatole.”

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, THOSE LINES

Guys, I don’t know. All I can tell you is that Groban is out–I was kind of put off by his delivery the first time I saw him but it grew on me over time, listening to the cast recording and boots.

Scott’s set the standard for how I hear it in my head and how I interpret the lines, but Malloy and Oak were both so lovely that I burst into tears listening to them.

This might be a three-way tie.

HASHTAG I LOVE ALL PIERRES, THE CONCLUSION

Having seen the four Pierres from this incarnation of the show, I can tell you definitively that……..I love all Pierres and can’t choose a favorite.

Sorry!

I tried really hard to rank them, but things kept pushing people back up and down the list and it just wasn’t happening. It’s a four-way tie.

I love all Pierres.

[smashbuddies]

Love Bites: Pt. 1

Night was the best time to be out. Hardly anyone was walking the streets, the air was nice and cool without being terribly cold, and it was all around just more pleasant to walk under the stars and the moonlight than it was to deal with the overbearing weight of the sun. Of course, that might have been because the sunlight could literally lead to death, but still.

Daniel sighed, a sealed bag tucked underneath his arm, hands stuffed into his pockets as he strolled along the road. Only one bag every two weeks, what kind of bullshit was that? They were trying to starve him. He was already skinny enough, he didn’t need their fucking help.

But at least they gave him anonymity. That was something.

A howl caught his ears. Werewolf. After glancing up at the now very obviously full moon, he picked up the pace. No good would come out of getting caught up in a werewolf rampage. Especially if it wound up getting someone killed.

Slam!

The wind got knocked out of him as something far bigger then him crashed right into his side. It took him a long moment to regain his bearings, and when he did, he was face-to-snout with a gargantuan, wolf-like beast. Its eyes were glued right to him, wide and curious. Well, at least it wasn’t looking to kill him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hissed. Werewolf logistics were weird, so he had no idea if they’d even be able to understand him. “You could get someone killed, you fucking moron!”

They blinked dumbly, then licked his face, tongue dragging along his skin tortuously. It was disgusting, and he tried pushing them off, to no avail.

“Get off!” he demanded, managing to shove their face away. “What do you want? Food? Is that it? I have plenty of food at home, you can have some of it if you calm the fuck down!”

After staring at him vacantly for a solid minute, they let out an ear-piercing howl, then backed off of him. Daniel got up and brushed off his suit, then snagged up the food that had thankfully not splattered all over the pavement.

“You’re so damn lucky,” he muttered at the werewolf with a hard glare. “Anyway, c’mon. We’re not too far.”

Carefully, he led them to his house, and thank god it was big enough to fit a fully grown, fully transformed werewolf. Exhaustion seeped into his bones as they bounded all over the living room, like an excited puppy that just got adopted.

But this was just for the night. He wasn’t a charity worker.

He coaxed them into the kitchen, and dragged out every last bit of food that he couldn’t stomach. It wasn’t a whole lot, but hopefully enough to sate a ravenous beast.

“Alright,” he muttered, getting it all out free from packaging and setting it on the counter. The werewolf was definitely big enough to reach it, so no use in being a dick and putting it all on the floor. “Eat up. Someone has to.”

The werewolf gladly scarfed it all down. Honestly, it was pretty disgusting to watch. But his own hunger ate away deep in his stomach, and he eyed up his bag for a moment.

Have some fucking self control.

Sighing, he put the bag in the fridge, and almost let out a yelp when he felt the werewolf’s cold nose nudge against his back. He whipped around and glared at them. “What?”

They cocked their head to the side, then let out a big yawn.

“Tired, huh?” he asked rather pointlessly. Maybe it was nice just having someone to talk to. “Me too. But you need a bath. Badly.”

Almost immediately, they leaned back on their haunches and bared their teeth, letting out a low growl all the while.

“You’re gonna have a hard time intimidating me,” he said with a raised eyebrow, putting his hands on his hips for extra authority. “Just let me clean you up and we can both sleep out your stupid fucking transformation. Okay?”

In the next instant, they whined and butted their head into his stomach. Funny how fast they switched tactics.

“If you let me give you a bath,” he said, giving them a single pat on the head, “I’ll get you breakfast tomorrow. And take you home, how about that?”

The noise they made was one of defeat. Good. Like hell he was going to have some bumfuck wolf-beast dirtying up his home. So he led them to the bathroom, making sure to keep a close eye on them in case they tried any funny business, and actually got them into a warm bath.

“See?” he grumbled while rubbing shampoo into their fur. “This isn’t so bad. Now you smell like a civilized being, and not some neanderthal that’s been living in a hobbit hole for half a century.”

They growled at him, but otherwise seemed to be enjoying the attention. But he was starting to get tired, because they were huge and their fur was thick and honestly? This wasn’t worth having sore arms in the morning.

“Alright, good enough,” he announced, switching to the shower for a moment to rinse all the soap off. Was human shampoo good for werewolf fur? Who knows and who even cares? Not him.

Despite him being kind enough to even get a towel, they simply shook all the water off, splattering not only his bathroom in their dirty wolf water, but him and his beloved suit.

“What the fuck!?”

Happily ignoring his outburst, they sauntered out of the bathroom, leaving him to wallow in his despair. What had his life come to?

He made his way to his room, eager to slip into some pajamas and sleep his misery away. Only to find a giant furry mass taking up his entire bed. He felt his eye twitch while watching him get all cozy with his blankets and pillows. Just even more fur to clean up off his shit.

“You’re not sleeping on my bed,” he told them, pointing to the ground. “Now get down!”

They blatantly ignored him.

“Ugh, you better be off my bed by the time I’m changed,” he warned, voice dangerously low. And to make his point, he gave them a harsh glare. Which they only yawned at. Great.

Well, strangely enough, by the time he got into his pajamas, they were off his bed. He eyed them suspiciously. They were way too happy with sitting on the floor. Plus, he didn’t like the way they watched him. Like they were waiting for something.

Shrugging it off, Daniel got into bed and curled up under the covers, eager to get some rest. Not even a second later, the werewolf practically pounced on him, butting its nose into his side so they could get under the blanket too.

He didn’t have the energy for this. So fuck it, right? After he lifted the blanket up, they quickly got under and laid right on top of him. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about getting cold.

Their nose butted against his neck, then they let out a contented sigh. Idly, he gave them a couple pats on the head, and found himself falling asleep not too long after.

That morning, he woke up feeling way too hot. Like suffocating in a desert kind of hot. Still half-asleep, he tried wiggling away, only to find a strong arm hooked around his waist keeping him in place.

The werewolf.

He looked over. Sure enough, they were back to their... Less wolf-like form. They still looked like a goddamn furry, but at least they’d actually be able to say something now.

“Hey,” he whispered harshly, still a bit groggy, “I kinda have to get up, so move the fuck over or something!”

They only nuzzled closer, the fur on their face tickling his neck, and mumbled, “Love you…”

What the hell?

“C’mon, you werewolf piece of shit,” he said more firmly, shoving them. “Get up! You need to get out of my house!”

With a groan, they pulled back and looked blearily at him. That look shifted into one of complete adoration. Then their eyes widened in a deer in the headlights kind of way. “Who are you?”

“I’m the guy that kept you from terrorizing the city last night,” he hissed, not bothering to hide the scowl on his face. “I fed you, cleaned you, and let you sleep in my bed because you’re a clingy piss-baby.”

Their face scrunched up. “Shit, sorry. I get a little out of control whenever I transform.”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I found you and not some human,” he said matter-of-factly. “Or else you probably would’ve gotten into some real trouble.”

With narrowed eyes, they scrutinized him, nostrils flaring just a bit. “So you’re saying you’re not a human?”

“You’re pretty dense,” he muttered. Then he took a second to show off the pearly white fangs in his mouth. “If the red eyes and the pasty skin didn’t tell you, I’m a vampire. So there you go.”

It was at this point that he finally realized they were still way too close to him. He squirmed and tried to free himself, but that only made them hold on tighter.

He glared at them and asked, “What the hell is your deal? Let go!”

“Shit, sorry,” they mumbled, finally getting their heavy arm off him. Their eyebrows furrowed together, and they eyed him up like they were trying to figure something out. “So, what’s your name?”

He bristled. “...Daniel.”

“Right, okay. Well, Daniel, there’s something I gotta tell you,” they said. Now it seemed like they wanted to look at anything else but him. “I might’ve imprinted on you last night.”

Imprint. It was a vaguely familiar term to him, if only because he heard it in passing. Still, the ramifications always varied, so it was better to get specifics than to fly off the handle right away.

“What the hell does that mean?” he asked, getting out of bed because he couldn’t waste more time.

While they stammered for an answer, he looked through his closet. What should he wear today? Blue or red? Maybe black? The decision was so mundane it almost gave him a headache.

“It means,” they finally said, right as he decided, “that I might really, really want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Who doesn’t?” he asked, not expecting them to answer because they didn’t know. “My plan was only to let you stay for the night, then get you some more food and take you home so you can finally get out of my hair.”

Their ears flattened against their head, and they looked down sadly. “Right, yeah. That makes sense.”

He sighed and spared them a half-pitying look. “Sorry, but I don’t have time for any kind of relationship right now. I have to work, take care of myself, keep up appearances. It’s hard enough trying to seem human on my own, it’ll be impossible with a wolf-man running amok in my life.”

“I get it,” they said. Despite them shrugging it off, they seemed hurt. “Imprinting’s just bullshit, you know?”

As much as he didn’t want to care, he still felt a twinge of guilt. But he already did more than enough for him. Anyone else would’ve just left them in the streets. Maybe even called the cops on them.

He left them alone to gather their thoughts while he got ready. Hair done, suit on, and most important of all, colored contacts in and foundation applied. Just a normal, average, everyday human.

The werewolf knocked on the door. “Hey, uh, you said you were gonna give me something to eat, so I just kinda helped myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

A surge of panic went through him. He swung the door open. “You didn’t take the blood in the fridge, did you?”

Their mouth was half-full of raw bacon and their eyes were wide. “No.”

“Okay, good,” he sighed out, straightening out his tie. “Well, tell me where you live so I can drop you off.”

After swallowing down the bacon, they hummed, then said, “I live in a forest. I think it’s part of a park? But I know it’s right by the city, so…”

Somehow that was completely shocking, yet not at the same time. And son of a bitch, his conscience would not shut up if he just dropped them back in the woods where this whole mess would happen again in just a short month. And who even knows if he’d be there to keep them in line this time?

That pathetic look on their face didn’t help either. Contrasted with how happy they seemed last night to be in a nice house, it cemented his decision.

“Okay, look,” he huffed, rubbing away the stress in his temples. Was he really about to say this? “I’ll… Let you stick around for a bit. Until you get a place of your own. Because there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you terrorize a park full of innocent people anymore.”

Their tail went wild, slamming into the door frame while they practically pounced on him. All the air in his lungs got squeezed out as they said, “Hell yeah, I knew you couldn’t resist me! I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, you’ll see!”

“I never said we’d be boyfriends,” he wheezed out. Even with his own supernatural strength, it’d be pointless trying to get himself out of their hold.

But, they seemed to ignore him and just ramble on about all the things they could do together. Daniel wondered if it was too late to take the last twenty-four hours back and start all over again. But the glimpse he caught of their smiling face told him yes. It was far too late.

[rudderless-in-an-ocean-of-stars]

in your eyes (i find my salvation), chapter three

Find it on Ao3 here:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11225808/chapters/25137660

Of all the people who have shown up to her office unannounced, the woman who introduces herself as Lucy Lane is, by far, the most effortlessly intimidating.

“Lane?” Lena echoes, because she’s all-too familiar with the surname she’s seen plastered across the byline of almost every major story out of that damned newspaper in Metropolis, the Daily Planet. “Are you, by any chance, related to Lois Lane?”

“She’s my sister,” she replies tersely, and Lena knows she’s hit a sore spot by the way the other woman’s shoulders tense at the mention of the reporter.

“Ah.” Lena narrows her eyes- Lucy, aside from her petite stature, appears to have little in common with her sibling in terms of looks. Lois is red-haired and paler than milk, while Lucy sports a healthy tan and dark hair to match her cat-like eyes.

“Different mothers,” she explains, having caught on to Lena’s train of thought with the ease of someone used to the weight of an unasked question hanging in the air.

“What can I do for you today, Miss Lane?”

“I’m here about Kara zor-El.” She pauses, and a look of pure, unadulterated anger flashes across her face for a moment before she visibly calms, apparently burying her rage beneath a smooth, business-like demeanor. “And what your mother did to her.”

Lena’s blood runs cold in her veins, ice slowly spreading through her chest, spiraling outward from her heart.

“M-my mother?” She asks this a little thickly, tongue suddenly heavy in her mouth.

“Yes. She trespassed onto CatCo property this morning, and made her way into Kara zor-El’s office, where she harassed Miss zor-El until our boss, Cat Grant, intervened.” Lucy’s lips twitch upwards at this, a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “Were you aware of this encounter?”

She shakes her head, not trusting her voice enough to speak.

“Well, as Cat Grant’s counsel, I really shouldn’t be meeting with you. After all,” she suddenly smirks, and Lena doesn’t think she’s seen anyone look quite so satisfied outside of a bedroom, “-my employer did leave your mother with quite the bruise. Lillian was trespassing, so we at CatCo aren’t really concerned with the legal ramifications, as I’m sure you understand. After all, Cat was defending her employee from an intruder on company grounds.” Lena swallows with no small measure of difficulty as she moves across the room to fetch herself a glass of something stronger than water.

“If that’s the case, Miss Lane,” she says, after a long sip of scotch, “I have to ask- why are you here?”

“I’m here as Kara’s family,” Lucy snaps, and the ferocity that forms an almost tangible aura of protectiveness around her suddenly makes the family resemblance between the Lane sisters strikingly clear.

“Is she alright?”

“Depends on your definition of the word. Physically, she’s unharmed, of course.”

“Yes, well,” Lena can’t help the small, sad parody of a smile that her mouth twists into as her stomach churns at the thought of what her mother might have said. “Simple violence was never my mother’s favorite method of intimidation.”

The sharpness of Lucy’s glare softens marginally at the implications behind Lena’s words.

“The last time I saw Kara, her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t even hold a pen.” Lucy’s hands curl into fists at her sides. “Miss Grant sent her home for the rest of the day after what happened. I came here to tell you to stay away. Kara doesn’t need a reminder of what happened today.”

“Oh.”

It’s the only sound she can coax out of her throat, soft and small and utterly broken.

Something shifts in the other woman’s eyes, and her fierce demeanor melts away like snow under the sun.

“Not forever,” she quickly amends, shifting her weight between her feet like she isn’t sure if she should take a step forward or back. “Just for now. Until Kara’s better.”

Lucy Lane’s two steps past the threshold of her office door when she turns back and gives Lena a look that she can’t quite decipher.

She figures it’s the closest thing to an apology that Lucy will give her, and accepts it with a nod and the closest thing to a genuine smile as she can manage.

“You’re good for her,” she says, just a bit gruffly but loaded with a grudging respect all the same, before spinning back around and resuming her brisk stride down the hall.

You’re good for her.

The phrase echoes in her ears as she presses down on the intercom and summons her secretary into the room.

“Jess, please cancel the rest of today’s appointments and set up a meeting with my mother.”

The secretary’s eyes widen ever so slightly at the request, fully aware of the strained relationship between the C.E.O. and her mother, but she doesn’t hesitate, and Lena makes a mental note to give her a raise.

“Of course, Miss Luthor.” She’s already lifting a hand to activate the Bluetooth earpiece clipped under the fall of her hair as she moves back towards the door. “Thank you, Jess.”

You’re good for her.

Lena desperately hopes she won’t make a liar out of Lucy Lane as she steels herself to see the woman she’s spent years of her life trying to escape.

She makes her way to the couch on wobbly legs, lies back against the plush cushions, and thinks of the words she wished she’d had the time to say to Lucy Lane before she’d slipped out of reach.

‘Good’ is the one thing I’m not.

But for her- for Kara- I’ll try.

Alex Danvers virtually materializes out of thin air in Cat’s office, dressed in an all-black outfit and equipped with her usual trademark glare.

How the other woman manages to move so silently, Cat resigns herself to the probability that she’ll never know.

A lesser person might have screamed at the sight of the federal agent now occupying her office, who cuts a strikingly imposing figure in spite of her doe eyes and tiny build, but Cat only pushes forward the bowl of M&Ms on her desk and gestures for her to take a seat.

“How’s the hand?”

Alex Danvers was never one to beat around the bush- a trait that Cat has developed a fond admiration for over the years.

She smirks at the question, pushes her glasses up to rest on the top of her head, and shrugs. “A little sore, but I know how to throw a punch.”

“Damn straight.” A twinkle of pride glimmers in her brown eyes. “Thank you.”

“How’s Kara?”

“Sleeping, when I left, but that was a few hours ago.”

“Did she- was she-?” Cat’s usually not one to stutter, but her concern for Kara has her tripping over her words.

“She held it together until she got back to our place, then she was down for about half an hour.” Alex tosses a handful of M&Ms into her mouth and bites down so furiously that Cat finds it a miracle she doesn’t choke.

“Drink, Miss Danvers?”

Alex rolls her eyes, and Cat stands to fetch them both a glass of some ridiculously expensive bourbon that some political big-shot had sent her in the hopes of persuading her to use her considerable influence to make him the golden boy of the masses.

She has no intention of using her power to do anything of the sort, but she’s also not the type to turn down the gifts she’s offered by idiots who don’t know better than to try and bribe the queen of all media.

Alex likes Cat Grant.

She never expected to, but she does.

They’ve got enough differences between them to start a civil war, but what little they do have in common triumphs over everything else with ease.

Kara, of course, is the strongest thing that ties them together.

Toss in serious self-esteem issues courtesy of over-bearing mothers and it turns out that she and Cat Grant are much more alike than she’d initially thought.

She doesn’t stay for long- now that her shift’s over and there’s one less alien on the streets plotting world domination, every atom of her being is screaming for her to go home, to see Kara and make sure she’s alright.

So she does, waving away Cat’s offer to have her driven home with a laugh and another roll of her eyes.

It’s cold outside, even colder than it should be now that night has fallen, but Alex doesn’t mind.

Her breath mists out in puffs of white as she breaks into a light jog back to the apartment. It doesn’t take her long to reach the building, but she lingers outside for several moments just to stare up at the stars.

Glittering harmlessly against the vast expanse of inky sky, always out of reach but so rarely out of sight, the stars have always been a minor fascination for Alex Danvers.

She drinks in the sight of their light, faint in comparison to the brilliance of the sun but no less beautiful, no less radiant, and allows herself a small, satisfied smile.

Then she walks into the building lobby, raises a hand to greet the familiar face of the night watchman, and heads upstairs to check on the woman whose smile was like a sun of its own.

Lucy Lane gets herself well and truly hammered before she even considers heading home.

She stumbles through the door and doesn’t give a fuck where her purse lands when she flings it in the direction of the living room.

James is waiting for her in the kitchen, sitting at the island in the middle with an expression that borders on the wrong edge of pity, and it pisses her off.

“What?” She growls out, slinking towards the cabinets to pull out a glass she fills with water from the fridge. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t say anything, Luce.” His tone is perfectly calm, perfectly even, and the simple practiced neutrality of his gaze makes her veins itch.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you or not?” He levels a sharp look in her direction, and she mentally curses him for knowing her so well, for not rising to the bait, for not picking the fight she’s so carefully laying out, for everything, everything-

Especially for being ridiculously patient and forgiving and putting up with her, of all people.

Lucy Lane knows full well just how much she doesn’t deserve James Olsen.

It’s one of the last things her sister had told her, shouted at her, during their last screaming match before Lucy had packed her bags and disappeared, shrouded herself in the weight of words like ‘duty’, ‘honor’, and ‘service’, and emerged after four years of radio silence with shiny-new shrapnel scars and gold leaf insignia on her shoulders.

“Just because he’s your boyfriend’s best friend doesn’t mean you can tell either of us what to do!”

They’re both yelling at this point, and Lois’ cheeks are bright red with exertion as she rages back at her sister. By some stroke of luck, this argument started after-hours, otherwise the employees of the Daily Planet would be getting front-row seats to the latest installment of the Lane sisters’ grudge match.

“Jimmy Olsen is a good man! I don’t want to see him get hurt!”

There it is, the righteous indignation that Lucy’s been choking on her whole life, practically oozing from her sister’s pores. It makes something in the pit of her stomach burn hotter, pouring lighter fluid on a fire that’s already burning viciously.

“His name is James, Lois! He’s not a kid anymore!”

“Neither are you!”

Lucy freezes for a second, a flicker of hurt briefly overtaking the anger in her eyes before a carefully cultivated mask of pure fury slides down over her face, locking away all other emotion somewhere far below the surface, way out of reach for anyone to touch without getting burned by the flames that obscure it from view.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You’re going to break his heart and you know it.” Lois shakes her head, a mournful expression crossing her features as she regards Lucy with her pretty, jewel-like eyes. They fairly glow with the same unwavering stare that she uses like knives against warlords in feuding countries and drug kingpins right here in the city. “You don’t deserve someone like him.”

Lucy had ended up taken her sister’s words to heart that night.

She’d stormed home, stuffed the bare essentials into a backpack, and vanished into the familiar rhythm of the army’s inner workings without a word of warning to anyone, least of all James.

He was the last person she expected to see on her doorstep after the end of her latest tour, but he’d still shown up, still looked at her with those warm, dark eyes, still said her name in the same breathless, reverent whisper-

And she’d found herself unable to turn him away.

Like it? Love it? Want to see more?

Let me know! :)

[frazzledsoul]

Disclaimer: I am less than proud of this post. I was going to keep it in my drafts, but I figured I’ll just put most of it under a cut instead. It’s pretty ugly and angry and irrational and I can’t back up most of the claims I make, but it is what it is. As I said the other day on here, no one thinks less of Amy Sherman Palladino than me. I don’t like her or trust her and while I might begrudgingly respect her for the show she created in the first place, I will not touch anything new she does in the future ever again. I think she’s earned that in spades: most of what I talk about here can be applied not just to love triangle shenanigans that happened a decade ago but to Rory’s plot in general in the revival, which was in its way a much bigger betrayal of everything the show stood for. It’s definitely a pattern and it’s not a positive one.

I will also say that one of the major reasons that the events at the end of season six hit me so hard is because I lived a much uglier, messier, more devastating version of these events in my family twice over the past 15 years. I’m obfuscating the details to protect the guilty, but in real life the damage is so much worse than what we saw played out on screen. There are some things that will never, ever be okay with me, that there are just no excuses for, no matter what. I don’t think I ever really processed that part of it, nor did I ever really process what it felt like to be dealt the final blow in what seemed to be a long, contentious battle between the creator of this show and the fans who kept hoping that Amy wouldn’t do the one thing we always feared she would resort to in order to achieve her own ends. So much of the time it felt like we (and Luke, but he’s fictional, so he’ll get over it) were just bugs waiting to be squashed.

So maybe this is because I am in a melancholy mood lately, but I just had some things to get off my chest about why I’m still so angry about the end of season 6 eleven long years after the fact. I still take it personally, and I still feel betrayed by that whole wretched plot development, and I still will never, ever forgive ASP for what she did. The revival may have worked out to my satisfaction, but I still don’t want the woman to write new episodes of the series because I don’t trust her. There’s no reason to believe she wouldn’t take everything positive she last left us with and obliterate it just because she could. She’s got a long track record of doing exactly that.

The bottom line is that we talk about this damn showrunner too much. It’s not a good reflection on her work. If what she was writing was good enough to speak for itself, we wouldn’t spend so much time trying to justify her choices and going WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF over and over again. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this hard. This is coming from someone who does still make a lot of excuses for her, from Luke and Lorelai not having kids to their decision to delay marriage to Rory’s surprise pregnancy and dour, unimaginative fate. The idea that everything she does is inviolable because she’s the one controlling the puppet strings and nothing else matters is a really unhealthy mentality.

Sometimes it’s okay to just flat-out say that a lot of the stuff she forced on us was simply wrong.

Of course, part of this is my fault because I come at it from the other side, too. It’s not in the best interest of an invested fan to pay too much attention to what the writing team says. They don’t see it like we do. It’s mostly pieces to move around on a chessboard to them and they’ll never understand why we care so much. I think the fan culture is much more balanced these days, or maybe I just say that because the only other shows I keep up with are genre shows where being a fan is an experience that’s so much bigger than what happens in those 42 minutes we see onscreen. It’s not to say that problems don’t exist or that there isn’t fan discontent, but it’s not like it was ten years ago. We’re all part of the whole for so much of the experience.

Showrunners like ASP (and I would count the notoriously sadistic Shonda Rhimes in here, too) don’t play that game, of course. I can definitively say that if I had never read any of her interviews, this would have been a way more pleasant viewing experience for me. What if I hadn’t known that ASP kept come up with excuses to keep Luke and Lorelai apart because she didn’t think she could get it right? What if I didn’t know that she only hooked them up because the show got into trouble ratings-wise and she knew David Sutcliffe was available for Christopher to “cause problems” if she got bored? What if I didn’t read that interview where she essentially said that anyone who cared about Luke would have to accept him being relegated to the sidelines because it was time for Christopher to show how good he was at a relationship?

What if this entire fandom experience didn’t feel like a huge battle to keep ASP from bringing it all crashing down in the most disastrous way possible so that she could pursue the relationship outcome that she really wanted? What if it didn’t feel like a constant fight not to have one of my favorite characters be replaced? What if I didn’t feel that it was only a matter of time before Lorelai would betray Luke in the worst way possible, and do the one thing that he and the fans always feared the most, just so that ASP could have her favorite swoop in on his white horse to rescue her from the love interest who would always only be humble and ordinary?

Maybe it’s never a good idea to know what’s going on behind the curtain. Knowing all of this definitely made what was already a deeply upsetting plot twist that much worse. It’s impossible to have faith that any of this is ever going to be fixed when it seems the person in control is always fighting against you. There was no reason to think that it was going to get better, because she didn’t seem to want the same things that we did. We were just standing in the way of the happy ending that she preferred.

I didn’t have many expectations for what I wanted from this show. All I wanted (during the OS and the revival) was for Lorelai not to run off with Christopher and break Luke’s heart after they had been together. When Amy wrote that ending that so many of us feared would eventually come, it felt like a spit in the face, a final triumph on her part for this adversarial process. It was anyone who care about Luke and Lorelai as a couple or even Luke by himself against her and her Christopher fantasy, and she won. The worst part was that I had quit watching months earlier because I knew it would always come back to this. I tuned into the last half of Partings hoping that she wouldn’t do what I always dreaded, that she wouldn’t take it that far. But I had been right all along. 

Of course, maybe Christopher was just a diversion in the first place. It doesn’t change the fact that Amy twisted Luke into something he wasn’t in order to build up his rival simply because she was bored. None of this had to happen, but she wanted more time with her favorite and the rest of us had to suffer the consequences. I really, really want to say that what she planned was temporary and that the happy ending we got was in the cards all along, but in my heart of hearts I’m never be able to talk myself into completely believing that. She still can’t bring herself to talk of the happy ending she eventually gave us as anything other than what the fans forced on her.

Why shouldn’t I believe that she would choose the worst possible outcome if left to her own devices? She already did it once before.

You’ll notice I haven’t talked a lot about the actual plot twist in question. There’s nothing I can say about it that hasn’t been said before. The truth is that we can argue about whose fault it was until the cows come home, but it was a plot machination whipped up so that ASP could write the Christopher/Lorelai romance that she always seemed to really want. The Lorelai I knew and loved for six seasons (because despite some immature passive-aggressive behavior earlier in the season, she still remains very sympathetic to me right up until the end here) would not go as far she did. No matter how upset she was, no matter how betrayed she felt by Luke telling her no, she would not hurt him the way she did. She wouldn’t blatantly use Christopher like that. She wouldn’t put Rory in the position of having to sift through the ramifications of her fucked-up latethirtysomething love triangle and put her on shaky terms with both of her father figures.

The Lorelai Gilmore I knew wouldn’t have hurt the people she most cared about that way. She wasn’t that type of person. I’m intimately familiar with that type of person, and Lorelai was better than that. But if that’s what needed to happen for ASP to get what she wanted, that’s what was going to happen.

I know it was fixed eventually. Fate intervened before ASP could write that Christopher plot she wanted so badly, and we got not one but two happy endings for Luke and Lorelai. Believe me, I’m grateful for all of that. But it doesn’t change what happened, and it doesn’t make it any less of a betrayal as far as I am concerned. I really wish I had been less Internet savvy back when I was watching the show, that I didn’t view everything in terms of this fight I felt ASP was having with the fans through the media. In the end, I don’t know if it would have made any of it make any more sense to me, though.

I’m glad we got the ending we did, but the fact that we had to suffer through so much to get it was completely unnecessary. I no longer let myself get emotionally attached to ships or characters: I still fangirl, but in a more general way. It’s not worth it to fight another war with someone who’s at such cross purposes with what makes her enterprise work, or who seems to delight in making her fans as miserable as possible. I haven’t encountered a situation like this with anything else I’ve gotten interested in, but there are always things out there that end up slamming the door in your face at the last moment. The finale of HIMYM is probably what comes closest.

If we have to focus this much attention on the writer’s motivations in order to justify what she put forth, something clearly isn’t working right. If it can’t stand on its own, maybe the creator needs to take a step back and focus a little less on forcing her own agenda on something that isn’t right.

Or to put it much more simply, the shippers aren’t always wrong.

[8urn-blog1]

Aranea’s Story: Nowhere to go.

Preface: On Canon

This is a post-canon Aranea Serket. Everything that’s 8een revealed in canon a8out her, including what she’s done, up until the ending is considered canon for this muse, as well. If there are any further developments, say in some sort of epilogue material, they will likely not be considered.

The idea is that, after being killed by the Condesce, Aranea disappeared. She might have been killed permanently, but we don’t have canon information on her fate either way. All that mattered to the story was that she was out of the way — either gone forever, or beaten badly enough that she wouldn’t attempt something like that again. 

In all likelihood, she wouldn’t have returned to her former party even if she survived, so I’m not accepting her disappearance as proof that she’s dead. What actually happened is largely open-ended, and this is one possible interpretation of it. 

Now! Let’s get into the story.

---

Nowhere to go...

Aranea was soundly destroyed. Completely stomped into the ground after her incredibly foolhardy, suicidally risky and poorly-thought-out plan. Unable to return to her former friends (or...whatever it was they were to her), the only thing she could really do was figure out where to go from here.

She didn’t have much. A torn dress, a handful of new scars, and several regrets. She felt bad, certainly — but not bad enough. Not bad enough to try to make amends to those she hurt (though, to be fair, this wasn’t a situation that could be solved with apologies), and not bad enough about the mission she’d royally fucked to try to use her immense power for good, for once. 

Mostly, she lamented that she’d failed. Regret over the moral ramifications of her actions would come later. Much later. For now, if there was any guilt over those whose lives and wills she’d thrown away, it was that they’d been sacrificed needlessly. The end still justified the means, after all. And, by her warped definition of benevolence, she hadn’t necessarily done anything bad. Heroes make sacrifices all of the time. Generals throw away the lives of their soldiers for what they perceive to be the greater good. This was the way of the world; was she really all that bad of a person for trying to make a difference?

Later, she’d realize that she only tricked herself into thinking it was about anything but herself. She’d realize that her actions reflected the kind of twisted person she’d become. And, perhaps most importantly, she’d find out that Mindfang was not the person she wanted to be.

Being remembered as a villain was better than not being remembered at all, right? Perhaps not.

But this would take years. And for now, years were not a thing she thought she’d have left. The battle, so it seemed, was about to be at its end. She truly had no confidence that the pitiful forces assembled by the other kids, living or dead, would be enough to stop the embodiment of Death that was rending existence itself. Not that it’d likely matter. Either way, the victor would not offer her a passage out of this crumbling dream that she resided in. 

On the bright side, it’d all be over soon. She wouldn’t need to wallow in self-pity much longer. Dead men tell no tales. Maybe nobody would tell her story. But at least, when finally confronted with death, she wouldn’t really care.

---

...but up from here.

But death didn’t come.

She waited, and waited. But neither unholy destruction nor cleansing fire ever came for her. Existence, it seemed, wasn’t even merciful enough to give her a swift end. Her punishment was to wait out oblivion for eons, fading away with neither a bang nor a whimper at the fringes of existence.

If Aranea was to wait, she wouldn’t do it in one place. She began to wander. She doubted that there was anyone else out here. In the dream, you can only find what wants to be found — and there was nobody who wanted to see her again. She wasn’t wrong; she traveled for miles, and never did she find a single person.

She didn’t want to think, and for the first few days, she didn’t. They were agonizingly dull, consisting of nothing but aimless wandering without ever finding a thing. But finally, with nothing left to keep her from nosediving into madness, she began to reflect. And reflect she would, for what seemed like forever. She never stopped walking, and she wasn’t sure where she was going; lost in thought, she walked on autopilot into the unknown.

This was rock bottom, she thought. This was Hell. 

Eventually, she forced herself to breach subjects she’d been desperately trying to avoid: deep, introspective thought about just what she was trying to accomplish; existential questions, the answers to which she feared more than death itself; what she was hoping to find, stranded in this eternal desert.

She wanted a way out.

She didn’t deserve one.

She wanted a door.

To what? Where would she turn? There was nothing left for her to steal. No lies left that would convince anyone that she was worth spending time on.

She wanted to move forward.

And move forward, she did.

---

The door.

The Hebrews wandered in the desert, some say, to force them to grow. To prepare them to enter the Promised Land. But the Hebrews were a people subjugated. In Egypt, they were the victims. And as much as she’d like to think herself a victim of circumstance, she was anything but.

Nonetheless, in wandering through the desert in exile, she grew. 

Solemnly trudging along, she barely looked at her surroundings. So she’d paid very little attention to the object on the horizon. Though still far away, it was already massive, threatening to block out the sun if it grew any taller. It took her a moment to realize just what it was.

Was this where they’d gone? The others?

A long time had passed since the battle had ended. She’d no way of knowing that this was where the last stand had taken place; sand had long-since covered any trace of it. Still, here, an army of children had stood their ground against what appeared to be an unconquerable foe. They knew they had little chance of survival, but still, selflessly, they threw themselves into the battle.

She had no way of knowing that they were victorious. And she had no way of knowing that her own alternates were among them.

Her life wasn’t governed by destiny; no decree from above said she had to be a bad person. She didn’t yet know it, but she still had a chance. Life very rarely gives you hints. Mostly, it expects you to figure it out on your own. But here, in what might have otherwise been her last moments, life grasped her chin and forced her eyes upwards.

Above the door, was the Sun. Except this Sun gave no light. It was massive, dark, threatening to swallow everything whole.

Was this here the whole time? How had I not seen it?

The Sun, before her eyes, grew faster than the door had in her approach. It was coming. She could feel its pull, like a powerful wind threatening to pull her upwards. 

Terror, like nothing she’d felt before — even in the face of death — grasped her, forcing her onwards.

She ran for the door. Panicking, she grasped for the handle, expecting it to be locked. 

But to her surprise, it opened.