#BAD! its shit!! its not interesting it looks like a muddled mess!!

[oakpear]

Holy shit Spirited is maybe the worst movie this year

Like, halfway through I had to pull out my phone to check the budget. 75 MILLION! 75,000,000 for the Ryan Reynolds Anti-Cancel Culture Christmas Carol Adaptation Which Has Child S*icide Immediately Followed Up With A Dick Joke. Multiple points in this thing I involuntarily looked away and went "oh fuck OFF" like I HATED this thing.

Anyways said anti-cancel culture movie, while trying to give us sympathy for their elon musk-ass protagonist inadvertently leaves us with the message "nothing matters, everyone is unredeemable and the world would be better off if some people were dead" which is at least a LITTLE fun.

[shuhey-hisagi]

Espada request! Have any general and relationship hcs for Grimmjow?

Grimmjow was my biggest crush in middle school lol

General headcanons:

Okay, so Grimmjow was a panther-esque hollow before he became an espada, so I heavily believe he displays a number of panther-like behaviors. (Though, I do love the cat headcanons for him- they are so funny). So, going off this...

Grimmjow has a booming voice. He’s not necessarily loud, though he can be if needed. His voice can carry through and be heard from great distances. It’s extremely powerful and brings anyone in its vicinity to alertness. If anyone didn’t know, panthers usually use their vocals to maintain their home ranges and ensure their solitude. Grimmjow will be a little shit and use this vocal power to keep others from approaching him. 

Despite his powerful voice, Grimmjow is quite a stealthy individual. He’s silently prowling about at all times, and unless he wants his presence to be known, it will stay that way. He has a light tread and normally just goes about his business for hours before anyone has the chance to notice. He’s not extremely aware of this, and has been caught by surprise when others display mass shock when he lets himself be known. 

He values his solitude. He doesn’t need to be around others unless he is close to them. His Fracción are a good example of this. Though Grimmjow prefers to be alone, he thought of them as members of his family or pack when he was an adjuchas. To this point, he didn’t complain about their presence unless they were particularly annoying him. 

Going off the previous point, Grimmjow harbors powerful feelings of protectiveness for his Fracción and any other person he deems important to him. He expects these people to hold their own and not need his protection at all times, but if there are. threats, he is naturally inclined to straighten himself and become an obvious obstacle for said threat. 

Climbing trees and scaling walls is a secret habit of his for when he’s restless. He sees a climbable surface and is obligated to go see if he can get to the top. He will leave in the middle of conversations just to climb a tower. He also likes to isolate himself in these areas, especially since they are hard to get access for others. 

He breaks his nails often when he’s not using his hierro. It’s a bad habit of his to be more intense than necessary at times and it comes at the cost of ripping off his poor nails from the bone. He can be found with bandages around his fingers a lot of the time.

Though he might not seem it, Grimmjow can make use of his brain when he wants to. It’s useful when he wants to solve a puzzle someone gave him from the world of the living or for determining the amount of time and effort it would take to scale a particular building. 

He talks so much when he’s tired and near someone who will listen. Ask him a question, and he’ll go on forever about his opinions. His thought process is muddled and he makes connections where others wouldn’t, so it’s always interesting to hear what he has to say. The more tired he is, the more convoluted his reasoning becomes.

When visiting the World of the Living, he often stays with Kisuke just as a formality, since the latter wishes to learn more about Grimmjow’s constitution. Grimmjow does loiter around the Kurosaki residence in hopes of fighting Ichigo, but this backfires when Ichigo starts inviting him in and slowly conditions a friendship (though, Grimmjow will never call it so). 

Relationship headcanons:

Let me preface this by saying It’s both difficult to get his attention but pretty easy to get his attention. Grimmjow is someone who is guarded and won’t allow just anyone to et close to him. 

It goes without saying that he is attracted to people who display immense strength, mental and physical. He can’t stand people that act meek and helpless. To him, that’s a sign of weakness and lack of will to survive. He needs someone who can put up a fight while also putting him in his place. His instinct from his time as a lesser hollow and even now as an Espada tend to drive this feeling. 

One also needs to consider that Grimmjow is simply an asshole who will do a lot just to make someone’s life hell. He doesn’t take others’ feelings seriously unless he is particularly invested in them and wants to gain something from them. 

It takes him a long time to decide he wants to be with someone mostly because as an Espada there wasn’t much in way of relationships. Yes, some did become close with others and have intimate relationships, but Grimmjow was not one of them. He’s aware of the practices, but it never felt organic to him. 

To get his attention, one would have to work quite little but have a lot of confidence to execute the actions that would be notable for him. Petting the back of his head when he does something right, making sure to greet him when he’s part of a gathering and secluding himself, and making active attempts to check in with him are all small but important ways of standing out to him. 

The first time you pet his hair, he twists back with the most angry expression and is ready to knock you away. However, once he realizes there’s no threat, he’s like a deer in headlights wondering why you would mess with his hair.

He looks forward to you visiting Kisuke’s shop so that you can say hi to him and ask him what he’s been doing. He usually won’t answer with more than two phrases, but it’s nice for someone to ask him. 

Grimmjow does have a tendency to offer you gifts. Usually the severed hands of your enemies, but it’s something.

I’m kidding.

Mostly.

But he does enjoy bringing you trinkets, such as jewelry or a safety charm he found. He’s not the best with gifts, and usually relies on just bringing you food or practical items. For example, if you ever need a pen, he’s carrying one on him at all times. He’s kind of like a cat in this regard- just bringing you whatever he deems a worthy offering.

Any shows of affection cause him to freeze in the beginning. He can’t remember if he experienced it back when he was a human, and there was no way he experienced it during his time after. He’s relearning affection, which is an interesting journey. 

To that point, he rests his head near you when he wants you to play with his hair. He’ll lay on your shoulder when you work just to be near you. He often has a hard time gauging how much force to put into a hug, so he’ll hold you too tight, but the happiness from him making the first move almost makes it okay. He also moves in to quickly for kisses, leading to smashing your foreheads and noses together, and in more awkward cases, bashing your teeth against each other. 

He’s trying

Grimmjow is casual about showing his possession over you near others. He doesn’t make a point of it to be affectionate around them, but if he hasn’t seen you in a while and you show up, he’s more than willing to dip you and deeply kiss you before moving on with his day. He likes when he holds your hand and put it in his jacket pocket when walking. 

He’s pretty playful and enjoys wrestling in bed. If he can tickle you while holding you down, he’s going to do so. It goes back to his nature as a hollow- he’s just a little mischievous even if he won’t admit it. Feeling you under him and seeing you laugh while trying to escape is extremely exciting for him. He might even chuckle a few times himself, and not in his usual maniacal manner.

He’s not the best communicator, and it falls on you to figure out why he’s in a mood if he even shows a sign of being upset. Usually he will isolate himself, but since you two are close, he’s naturally inclined to express his mood. He can snap at you and express himself harshly, which can be an obstacle in your relationship. 

Grimmjow isn’t a mean partner. In fact, he’s pretty accommodating and lets you do things at your own pace as long as you respect his need for space and unwillingness to share his every thought. 

He likes making sure you’re safe. He likes teasing you to the point where you attempt to strangle him. He likes that he’s feelings something other than a need to fight someone and cause problems. 

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Johnny, Kitty and Shadow

Johnny Cardan was by no means special. Yet another kid who'd aged out of the foster system and sent to live on the streets. All he had now was his best bud, Shadow. He didn't know Shadow's real name, but it didn't matter. He gave everyone the name 13 anyways. If he trusted someone enough, he'd tell them his first name. But Cardan was his best kept secret.

The two of them had gotten into a fight. Some guys who thought they were all that came to pick on the street kids. Shadow, silent as always, had jumped into the fray. Johnny had tried to join in but got knocked out within the first five minutes. the mark left wasn't very nice. He grimaced. Oh well, another thing to add to his aethstetic as a greasy street kid. Shadow stared at him in silent judgement. Johnny was pretty sure the guy was mute. He never spoke, and people said bad luck came off of him in waves. Johnny didn't care. Shadow was the coolest person he knew. He didn't believe in all that bad luck shit.

He was skipping rocks across the polluted river in town while Shadow got some food. Someone walked up behind him. "Can I join you?" She asked him. He twisted around to look into her deep brown eyes. "Sure, don't see why not," He smiled at her. People would judge him for liking a black girl, but she was pretty, no matter what they said. "Thanks. It's not having a guy like you act all high and mighty," "I am by no means high and mighty. I think the sewer rats have a higher social status than I do," She laughed. "Well, I think you're cool. I'm Kitty by the way," "I go by 13, but you can call me Johnny," He replied. "How 'bout Johnny 13?" "Well Kitty, I think that fits wonderfully. May I ask what a pretty girl like you is doing on this side of town?" "Oh you. I've been on the streets for awhile now. Aged out of the foster system," "Huh, same. Stupid system didn't do its job anyways," "Preach," A revving sound came from behind them. Shadow waved from a bike. It was black with a green 13 decal on it. "Hey Shadow. Nice bike you got there," Johnny walked up to his friend. Shadow gestured to it. "You got it for me? Why?" Shadow desperately gestured to the sky. Johnny stared for a moment before it caught on. It was his birthday. "Aw man, can't believe I forgot. Thanks for the birthday present dude," Johnny pulled him into a hug. Kitty joined their hug.

Kitty became part of their group that day. She and Johnny were dating with Shadow sticking around. The big guy wasn't interested in dating, so he wasn't jealous. It was amazing the first few months. He and Kitty flaunted their relationship, ignoring the stares they got. The romantic nights under the stars that ending in rocks pelted at them, the restaurant stops where Johnny ended up grabbing food and they ate outside because black people weren't allowed, that one time they snuck into a concert. The girl on the stage could sing. The posters advertised her as Amber McLain. Those were their dates. Maybe it wasn't normal, but it was amazing and they loved it.

It was now a year since they'd met. The three of them were crammed onto the bike barrelling down the road. Maybe they were a little fast, but other than that, no laws were broken. Suddenly, a massive tractor trailer came careening towards them. The driver had fallen asleep. They screamed and Johnny desperately tried to avoid it, but he was too late. They made contact and felt as they were flattened on the concrete. Pain ripped through every limb and none of them could tell if the pain was theirs or the person next to them's. It was all a big muddled mess. The world faded to black.

The three of them woke up surrounded by green. Johnny looked down at his hands and saw the ashy gray that they were now. He saw movement next to him and saw Kitty, her hair green, eyes red and skin the same ashy grey as him. A dark shape with green pupils swept up next to him. Somehow, he knew it was Shadow. "Johnny?" Kitty said quietly. "Yeah Kitten?" "I think we're dead," And everything came rushing in. They were dead, murdered in a bike accident. And he knew no one would care. Their bodies would be kept in police custody and burned, no sign that they'd ever existed. Lost to the system.

And then he and Kitty had their first fight. Their relationship stayed strong, but it got so much easier to fight with all the pent up anger of dying. They were smooth when they tried to go through the portal. Of course it didn't last long. This was their existence now. Johnny had no clue why he told the kid. He just did. And Danny had sat and listened, not criticizing. Just listening to Johnny vent. Maybe they'd started out fighting, but now Johnny thought they could be friends.

~~~~~~~~~

You like? I wanted a take on these three. And I needed something where Kitty was a POC. I hope you enjoyed my chaos.

[sh1tbird-shantytown]

Tommy doesn’t know who Queen is and Steve goes on a quest to get Tommy to listen to all different types of music. Billy gets dragged into the shenanigans. The three of them start hanging out together when Steve falls asleep, but he has a super bad nightmare. (I think they were probably drinking or smoking weed or both before. Which made the nightmare worse.) Then comes cuddling with Tommy choosing the music and light teasing.

i love this so much. they’re all musically ignorant in one way or another anyway. lemme just sprint with this now :)

---

He was just trying to get his history books, it wasn't his fault that their lockers were right next to each other. Or that Tommy was apparently living under a heavy rock.  

“I’ve never heard of Queen, unless you’re talking about the Queen of England or some shit. Other than that, I’m at a loss.” Tommy was yapping to one of Carol’s friends. Sarah? Betty? They all looked the same honestly. 

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of Queen?” Steve hadn’t actually really meant to just start abruptly start speaking to Tommy again, but here they were. In the hallway. Around nosey onlookers. And Sarah-Betty who was definitely staring and definitely not happy for the intrusion. 

Tommy grinned boyishly, “Talkin’ to me again, Harrington?”

Steve didn’t let up, “You haven’t heard of Queen? Freddie Mercury? Brian May? They’ve been all over the radio for years, man.” Tommy died down a little with the snarky attitude, but the flare was still there through the dilution. 

“I don’t know, Harrington. Guess I have too many people around to pay attention to the radio much anymore.” Tommy crossed his arms and Steve almost gave up as the bilious emotions started up towards the boy again. 

Steve shook his head, “Meet me at my house tonight at 6. I’ll order in and I’ll show you myself what Queen is. ‘Kay, Tom?” Now that really took the other aback.

“It’s been, what, a year?” Hands on his hips just as Steve was doing, “All of a sudden you’re interested again?”

Steve looked him in the eye and nodded, “Six o’clock on the dot, Tommy. Be there!” he pivoted on his heel and blended in the crowd.

He had the pizza box and the stereo up and ready to jam long before the bell rung. Only three minutes late. It was honestly a record for Tommy, Steve knew for a fact that Tommy had the worst time management skills. Which also made Steve a little on edge as he opened the door. He wasn’t actually that surprised to find Billy Hargrove right there beside Tommy. Both grinning in their own devilish manners. 

Steve vamped them with the most unimpressed look he could produce and traveled back inside, “Well, come on!” he ordered impatiently. 

Billy spoke up first as they entered the living area, “Nice place, very...” he seemed to contemplate a moment as he examined the vacant side tables and mantle, “Modern.”

“Tell me about it,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll go get beer,” he started making his way towards the kitchen. “Pizza’s on the coffee table, don’t make a mess.”

When he returned there wasn’t any mess on the floors or furniture, but Tommy had enough sauce on the corners of his mouth and cheeks to slather a whole slice itself.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighed and grabbed a napkin to clean the sauce before it dried. Billy and Tommy stared like owls but Steve ignored them and instead focused on putting the first cassette in. “Now listen, no one gets to speak.” He pointed to the table, “You have free food and drinks, so indulge me,” he took his own seat on the floor between them. A Night at the Opera. 

“Well this is eerie,” Tommy griminced and bit into another slice. His face lifted a moment later as the song changed gears, “Oh wait, no I change my mind, this is cool.”

“Have you found a new toy to replace me? Can you face me? But now you can kiss my ass goodbye Feel good, are you satisfied?”

Steve looked at Tommy and found him already looking back. 

Billy coughed, “Next, Pretty Boy?”

“Bicycling on every Wednesday evening Thursday, I go waltzing to the zoo”

Tommy swayed with the steady smoothness, “I like this one, I like it a lot.” Billy’s thigh brushed and planted against Steve’s shoulder as they watched Tommy tap along. The touch sizzled excitingly. 

“I'm in love with my car Got a feel for my automobile Get a grip on my boy-racer rollbar Such a thrill when your radials squeal“

Tommy’s face pinched just a little, nose wrinkled cutely, ”I don’t know about this one. Sounds like a song Billy might appreciate a bit more. WIth Margo and all that.” 

Tommy smiled at Billy and Steve felt something churn in is tummy, “Margo?” he tilted his head back so it rested on Billy’s knee in order to look at him.

Billy sighed and tilted his own head back to take a sip of the beer can he'd been working on, “It’s my car’s name, after my dog when I was a kid.” Steve shifted back so he was facing the stereo again after nodding once. 

“Oh, you're the first one when things turn out bad You know I'll never be lonely You're my only one And I love the things I really love the things that you do“

Tommy immediately smiled at the opening and his foot made its way from nudging him happily to resting in Steve’s lap, “This one is my favorite.”

“Really?” Steve and Billy asked simultaneously. Steve turned his head painfully fast and they stared in mutual shock. They were quick to get over it though and both went back to waiting for Tommy’s decisive nod. His eyes were closed and calm in enjoyment. So, Steve forcefully settled whatever Billy had stirred and did the same, back rested against both boy’s shins comfortably. 

“My sweet lady Though it seems like we wait forever Stay sweet, baby Believe and we've got everything we need“

“That one was...interesting,” Tommy commented.

Billy snorted as Steve smiled, “I’d say.”

“I feel like dancing in the rain Can I have a volunteer? Just keep right on dancing What a damn jolly good idea“

Tommy smiled sweetly through the that one, Steve felt as though he didn’t need to ask why.

“I dreamed I saw on a moonlit stair Spreading his hands on the multitude there A man who cried for a love gone stale And ice cold hearts of charity bare“

“How come they are so short and so long at random? It’s weird,” Tommy leaned forward and grabbed another beer, condensation dripping onto Steve’s bare knee.

“Sometimes things are more difficult to interpret,” Billy answered. Steve leaned a little more into them as he felt his hips settle. 

“Oh, back, hurry back Please bring it back home to me Because you don't know what it means to me Love of my life“

“That was kinda sad,” Billy was the one to say something between the track then. 

Steve agreed, “Yeah, a little.” He felt eyes on his head but gazed instead on the slight glow to the stereo. 

“Take good care of what you've got My father said to me As he puffed his pipe and baby B. He dandled on his knee Don't fool with fools who'll turn away Keep all good company“

Steve felt a leg press firmer into his shoulder and he laid his head on it, above him Billy sighed just above being silent, “How was that one, Tom?”

Tommy didn’t answer for a moment, “I’m not sure. It sounded good.” The feet in Steve’s lap crossed themselves jitteringly. 

“Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see, I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy, Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low“

“That one was freaky,” Tommy sat forward in awe, “But it was also awesome.” Eventually the last cord divvied out, all of them lazy with alcohol and sleepy with muddled calm that none of them had felt in a while. Although, Steve already was sleep on Billy’s knee. He didn’t get the chance to regret the beer he’d consumed before he was overrun with horrific, viney tunnels and humongous monsters. Screams of people he knew and cared for. Dustin, Nancy, his parents, Johnathon, El, Lucas. But what had him waking up in a bolt, yelping and screaming, was the one’s from Billy and Tommy. The pain those ones harbored, the ones that made Steve tremble too much to bare. 

Heavy hands grasped his shoulders and softer ones held his face when he came to. He closed his mouth and the wailing stopped just as it had reached his ears.

“Steve! Steve- sh, it’s alright, Stevie,” Tommy’s voice filtered in subtly and he thought he heard a breeze from behind. 

“We should get him to bed,” Billy said and the warmth from behind Steve was suddenly gone. He didn’t know what he must of done, was too out of it, but suddenly he was in someone's arms and being coddled.

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy, we’re still here.”

And then they were in a bed, and his room by the looks of the plaid and blue walls. He had two bodies on either side, and while the comfort he felt was something he couldn’t recognize. It was something new and he felt he should feel overwhelmed by all the sudden figures beside him. But instead he felt relieved and willingly open to allow these two boys in with limited hesitation. What a change in events. Truly. 

“Talk to us, Stevie,” Tommy whispered in his ear. 

“Have you heard of Blondie?” he whispered a bit hoarsely. 

“No. Unless that’s Billy.”

“Add that to the list of things Tommy needs to learn about.” He got a slight tickle above his ribs in response from Billy. Steve held in his laugh as best he could but Billy didn’t stop the movement until he finally coughed out a yelp in protest. He tried his best to portray a steady glare in return but it didn’t quite work. “What about The Smiths?”

“Nadda.”

“Tears for Fears?”

“Mmm,” Tommy finally came into clear vision for Steve to see, even in the dark, “Maybe, maybe not.” He was grinning like the dumbass Steve knew he was. And then he was gone.

“Wah-?” he almost whined. Almost. 

“Don’t worry, Stevie,” there was a clicking sound, “I’m just trying to culture you up a bit. Gotta keep you calm so we can actually get so sleep.” He laughed loudly when he seemingly found something. Tree branch arms coiled around Steve’s waist and he couldn’t be bothered to tell Billy off as the warmth radiated into his skin and heart. 

Tommy came back while the Eurythmics, of all people, made some sort of soft noise through the room. And Tommy’s own hands somehow managed to sneak their way past Billy’s and just barely grazed his ass. The blanket bundled them all together and Steve felt as though he finally had the loves of his life in sight. That definite path made for him. Finally and just maybe. 

send me headcannons!<3

[radramblog]

Radiohead Retrospective Part 4: We’ve got heads on sticks

Your name is Thom Yorke. You’ve just released what is considered one of the best albums of the 90s, if not of all time, and you’ve achieved a level of fame that at least one band member considers akin to the Beatles. Through the release of OK Computer, you’ve proven that even if people are pretty much over Oasis at this point, British rock bands still rule the airwaves. You’re also stressed the fuck out over just about all of this, and having a very hard time accustoming to the life of a celebrity- let alone the usual mental health issues.

What will you do?

Apparently, the answer was to write the fourth album to be as far away from the previous few as possible, seeking influence from IDM groups like Aphex Twin, jazz stuff, and just some bizarro instruments and experimentation and leaving a lot of the “rock” stuff behind. The primary genre listed for Kid A is usually Electronica or Ambient, with various off-kilter rock subgenres lagging behind, crying “you’re still gonna do guitars and stuff, right?”

Well…not as much anymore. But this era of Radiohead, this career-suicidal swerve, still proved monumentally successful, and showed that the band still had it, and that sometimes artistic risks do pay dividends.

A side note: I usually link music videos for the tracks I discuss as part of each post, as you’ll have seen in previous parts of this series. Kid A, however, doesn’t have any singles, and it sure doesn’t have any music videos. So…maybe just listen yourself. I’m probably in over my head here anyway.

I think the first 5 notes of Everything In Its Right Place are some of the most iconic in all of music.

Some personal background- Kid A was the first Radiohead I ever listened to. A particular cool and good mate of mine was a fan in high school, but I’d never listened to them at all, and I trusted his opinion musically, so I went to buy one of their CDs the next time I was at the shop. And for whatever reason, the cheapest one was Kid A at 10 bucks, and I didn’t want to gamble more than that, so that’s the one I got.

So the opening notes of Everything In Its Right Place were the first Radiohead I ever heard. And considering how much I obsessed over this band, in high school and beyond, it’s no surprise that this song is one of my favourites.

Not only did this song introduce me to Radiohead, it was effectively a gateway track for electronic music in general. This was the early 10s, and the majority of what I knew as electronic stuff was the EDM that was drowning the airwaves at the time. I hated that stuff out of principle, because being a hipster like that was definitely a personality. I don’t think I would ever have gotten into Vaporwave, into IDM, or into any electronic music the way I eventually would were it not for Everything In Its Right Place.

Now that I’ve spent 250 words talking about myself and not the actual song, we should probably stop that. Everything In Its Right Place is defined by this steady build of layering vocals and effects onto the relatively calm synth line, distorted vocals and word salad lyrics and manipulated noises growing and getting more chaotic before it just stops- the vocals fade out, the effects drop, and you’re left with the synth line- except it’s been slowly changing itself the whole time, and you don’t realise because you’ve been distracted by everything else at the same time.

It’s worth noting (and I don’t know if this was the case with OK Computer, because I don’t have an original copy of that one) that this was an album without liner notes, without the lyrics in the cover booklet. But at least in this case, the lyrics don’t matter as much as the v i b e. At least, that’s what I think.

On the topic of unintelligible lyrics, Kid A has a title track! I believe literally two Radiohead albums do this, the other being The Bends (though Hail to the Thief and In Rainbows do appear as lyrics). The song itself is an ambient, quiet piece that feels something like a twisted nursery tune- incredibly affected vocals, a syncopated (?) percussion, and a synth (I think???) that…I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels nursery-rhyme-y. If you’ve heard this song a few times, or you know what to listen for, you can piece together the lyrics somewhat- and they are, frankly, kind of unsettling. What is standing in the shadows at the end of your bed, can it please leave? And imagery of the Pied Piper is always either extremely silly or extremely unnerving, with this clearly leaning towards the latter. There’s a lot going on here- especially for a track most probably wouldn’t listen to outside the context of the full album. I know I generally don’t- not the kind of thing I generally am in the mood for.

 We’re at 850+ words, and we’re only up to The National Anthem? Fuuuuck. Well, anyone who wasn’t on board the IDM train can at least appreciate this one more, it’s got an actual bassline. A killer one, at that, that drives the whole track. Well, you know, that and the B R A S S. Seriously, it sounds like they invited a marching band to this bad boy. The combination ends up sounding mostly like controlled chaos, a jazz band traffic jam wound together by that B A S S. But the bass can’t hold it forever, and eventually that shit breaks free and just, it just honks all over the place.

I’m frustratingly running out of things to say about this song I really like, as opposed to the other songs I really liked. Unfortunately, ya boi forgot to take his neurotypicalification pills today, and so I’m getting very distracted. Hopefully, that slightly unhinged nature suits the album somewhat.

The next song, How To Disappear Completely, is a Big Mood with a fun story attached. The main lyrics- I’m not here, this isn’t happening- were allegedly something none other than Michael Stipe from R.E.M. told Thom to help him deal with that massive stage fright that came with Getting Big. Fun trivia aside, this song is gorgeous, luscious with massive strings, an acoustic bend, aethereal vocals, and a background drone running through the thing that makes sure your hair is always a little on end through the thing. It’s a song whose lyrics are an attempt to escape anxiety, whose instrumentation serves more to reinforce it- a calm, melodic piece that builds into nervous swells and threatening strings. A song about fighting your fear, and losing.

Fuck me it’s a bit depressing isn’t it. It’s potentially the most emotionally revealing song the album has- a lot of the lyricism on other tracks is more metaphorical, or subtle, but the meaning in How To Disappear Completely is evident even just from the title. You get lost in the strings and they go from calming, to imposing, to downright menacing (and then back again) in the song’s final minute.

Treefingers, on the other hand, has a lot less to say, and by that I mean it’s an instrumental. A very atmospheric, ambient one, and thereby one I don’t have a lot to say about. I’m not sure I’m particularly good at commenting on regular music, but this kinda thing is a whole different animal. I have no idea how to interact with discussing this. I like it? I will say, that one note right at the end, that echoes for a bit, the one piece of clarity in this muddled, reverbed sphere, feels especially poignant, for reasons I cannot describe.

We go from ambient instrumental to arguable the most rock-song-like track on this album, Optimistic, certified banger that it is. Some might argue that it doesn’t fit here, but like, did they even hear the lyrics? The bridge? It more that deserves its place on one of the best albums around. The little way the guitar scales up during the chorus is excellent, the proggy drums and riffs are glorious, it’s just a very good rock song.

Also this is the first song with the lyric “dinosaurs roaming the earth”, which, aside from being a bit of a non-sequitur, would return two albums later. And I’m really looking forward to that one.

In Limbo is a song I kind of always forget exists until I hear it again. It’s antimemetic, the way the song goes slipping from my mind until I hear those opening notes again. I’m going to be honest, it’s probably because it’s also the most mid song on the album. Far from bad, but it isn’t doing anything that How to Disappear Completely or Optimistic aren’t doing better. If I had to remove any track from this album, it might be this one?

Watch me get fucking lynched from the fandom for that one, if I ever post this to r/Radiohead or whatever. Which I might, though as much as I’d like more people to read my things I’m also extremely anxious about the potential response. Like the album I’m discussing today, I’m terrified of fame.

Incidentally, In Limbo is also the shortest track on the album (Treefingers beats it by 11 seconds), though this isn’t initially obvious online at least, because people keep messing with Motion Picture Soundtrack. But we’re not there yet, hang on.

We go from the forgettable (to me) In Limbo to the utterly mesmerizing Idioteque. Anxious but danceable, confusing but emotive, messy but tightly controlled. I love this fucking song to death. The reason I got the particular Radiohead poster that I did was because it has lyrics from this on it.

I’ve heard that lyrics for this album were largely pulled from a hat, and nowhere is that more clear than here (or maybe Everything In Its Right Place). Despite this, there’s a pretty clear theme in them, a continuation of some of the themes of this and the last albums. A condemnation of wealth and cowardice in the face of ecological disaster. In the form of an apocalypse disco.

What a lot of people don’t know about this track is that it actually samples an extremely old electronic music piece- one written in 1973, on a particularly old computer. The track, mild und leise, is a very interesting track considering its age- I’m reminded of Selected Ambient Works by Aphex Twin- not so much musically, but about how that reason was as influential as it was because it was the first time songs had sounded like that, because it was the first time songs could sound like that- I suppose it’s somewhat similar in that way, if older. These pieces and their composers inexorably linked by the allure of technology, and how that could be used to define new eras in music history- in Radiohead’s case, it certainly defined the next few albums in their lifespan.

Jesus mild und leise is long, it’s still going as I write this. I need to get back to Kid A, man!

Idioteque leads directly into Morning Bell, admittedly another less memorable song. Largely percussion lead, plenty of falsetto, and with a very unsubtle theme if you listen to the lyrics. I recall seeing someone saying that “cut the kids in half” was a really surprising and spooky line, and, yeah, sure, it sort of is, but it’s only particularly bad if you don’t pay attention for the rest of it. It’s about divorce, dude, it’s not subtle.

Or apparently not, according to one interview, but Thom said the interpretation isn’t invalid, so haha still winning baybeeeee.

I think the only part of this I really can’t do without is the outro, because the last minute and a half of this song is really cool. The mumbled lyrics go really well with the rising percussion and eerie effects that end the track.

Our final song is Motion Picture Soundtrack, or, Exit Music (for Walt Disney’s Depression Nap). This and Street Spirit I think are what really cement Radiohead’s reputation for brutal closers, both of them being tragic but hauntingly beautiful in different ways. In this case, it’s the instrumentation- glittering harps attempting the echo 50s Disney. There’s actually a version of this song from the OK Computer era with extremely different instrumentation, piano rather than organ, and no harps (and a third verse that is utterly brutal). Regardless, this is the song they chose to close the apocalypse that Kid A is on- the final lyric being “I will see you in the next life”, as the glittering echoes into the night. Poignant and tragic, but a little hopeful- the next life hopefully won’t have the struggles and pain of this one.

And then, of course, there’s the hidden track. Nicknamed Genchildren by some (that’s just the username of the dude who uploaded it to Napster back in the day), officially known as Untitled, and the true closer to the album. With Spotify slapping it right at the end of Motion Picture Soundtrack, it’s not clear the true nature of this song- it’s actually hidden on the original album, after several minutes of silence, just long enough that you’ve forgotten you left the player running (or you’re still crying from Motion Picture Soundtrack). I don’t think there’s a real word for what this sounds like other than heavenly, and incredibly brief piece I’ve heard compared to the pearly gates. After all, if we end on “I will see you in the next life”, then what can this be but that?

 Thus closes Kid A, a gorgeous and powerful album, yet an insane swerve for any rock band to pull, not just Radiohead. A bold strategy, and yet it paid off for them- Kid A would not only be massively influential, it was also massively successful both critically and commercially- but not to the standard of OK Computer before it. But they obviously weren’t trying to do OK Computer part 2, just as that album was deliberately not The Bends part 2.

Kid A would pretty much get a Part 2, though, less than a year later. And it’s that album we’ll be discussing next week, obviously. Until then.

[imthepunchlord]

What dragon age game do you like the best?

This will be controversial, but DA2 is the one I always put as my favorite. 

Of the DA leads, (sarcastic/funny) Hawke is easily my favorite. She is one of those characters who cracks jokes to deal with her pain, which is a rarity for a lead. At least to my knowledge. And that’s a character type I really love. And she does genuinely crack me, and for all that she deals with and goes through, she’s very strong for it. I have a lot of admiration and love for her. 

Companion wise is a very mixed bag for me, there are really only two I genuinely like and adore, and the rest either have issues or I like them, but they’re not my favorite, and that ranges from just not clicking with them as much (like Isabela, she’s kinda in the same boat as Zevran for me; I like them enough but not my favorites), or I just don’t like them at all (looking at you, Anders). 

On the more positive side, Varric is easily my favorite video game best friend. I both love and hate that Hawke can’t romance him, cause on one hand, I love their friendship, I love that they love each other as friends and will readily have each others back and that connection isn’t defined by romantic love. But on the other, this is easily my favorite dwarf and I’d love to romance him. Maybe DA4 will allow it, since the 3rd game finally allowed Cullen to be romancable. Either way! He is incredibly funny and is one of the best inclusions to the DA series ever. 

Romance wise, I think I’d put Fenris as my favorite. Easily is my favorite elf, I like to regard him as the first (demi)ace romance instead of the egghead. And one of the biggest sellers for me is the factor that its a slowburn, and romance isn’t always the primary focus, there’s more going on than just that. And there are just nice little details. Like Fenris wearing a red band when romancing Hawke, even if not with her. Hawke willing to teach Fenris how to read and keeps notes about what books he likes and he keeps a look out for what he may enjoy. Alistair is great, funny, and sweet and his romance is great puppy love; but I like the slowburn through the years more (though I shall continue to believe that my Warden and Alistair are still happily married).

Combat wise its my favorite for how quick it is. To me, this was when the combat system was at its best. DAO was... slow. DAI, I don’t care for the combat. Actually in general, DAI has been the hardest DA game for me to be invested in playing. I got to the new Keep and took a break and hadn’t picked up again till recently, trying it again now that its had a lot of updates to fix the bugs (which were so bad the dragon T posed during the cutscene of him attacking and then I was T posing afterwards and would just glide along; it was hilarious but I had to restart the game and skip the cutscene), but even now I’m just not that all invested or interested in playing it. I want to see it through before the 4th game is out but that means getting back into it but I got to like, motivate myself. 

So! Back on track! 

So from best DA lead, best dwarf, best elf, best combat system, all in my opinion; DA2 is one I like to come back to the most. It is definitely not perfect, I wish they had more time making it, and if Bioware ever does remasters/remakes, DAO I hope gets a remaster with updated animation and combat system, maaaaybe DAI’s open world but I’d be fine without it; DA2 I wouldn’t mind remade from the ground up, cause there are issues and its a lot shorter than I would like. I’d like to see the Free Marches. Wish we could get Ketojan as a companion, wish there were different options with the Qunari (which were easily the most fascinating aspect of DA2 and them being gone left Act 3 kinda lackluster). I wish there was a true neutral option cause both templars and mages just went to shit and neither I could truly support. For that hot mess of a situation, chaos was truly a ladder it just kept climbing. 

I know it was supposed to end in chaos and both sides going crazy, but the handling of it was incredibly rushed and neither of them ever won me over in picking a side. And flipping freaking Anders I swear--

Dragon Age 2 is my favorite, but that is largely because the handful of things I love, I love so very much. But, of the DA game that’s the best one, that would be DAO. Its got the best story that’s not complicated or muddled, the over all most likable companions (Alistair is funny and sweet, Morrigan is a hoot, Wynne is best video game grandma, I stan Sten, my mabari Mabobby bEST DOGGO, and Shale. BRINGSHALEBACKPLEASE. I miss her. I miss her so much.) Of the leads that are true self inserts, whereas Hawke is more of a character whose story you play, the Warden is leagues better than the Inquisitor. 

[locally-normal]

47 & 48 :)

47. Do you have to suffer to truly understand the human condition? What is the human condition? How can you really experience it?

Alrighty, Hmmm. I feel like your average philosopher could probably spend many books on these questions. Well, I’ve started drinking gin, so I can take a stab at it. I do not endorse any of the following slightly drunken rambling it’s probably all wrong, I haven’t thoroughly thought it through, I’m just spit balling here, basically stream of consciousness. I’m not bothering to be succinct. If you’re still with me.... why?

Hell if I know? Not a cop out answer, I’m never confident what people really mean when they talk about “the human condition”. But I do know it usually comes up in the context of suffering. People don’t say, “Ah, yes, the human condition, marital bliss in a cottage raising a kid and a dog”. People say, “Ah, yes, the human condition, you work your whole life and then you die.” So. Whatever people mean by “the human condition” certainly sounds like they mean something related to suffering, which you could not understand without experiencing suffering.

Is that what’s meant by the human condition though? I guess the question implies that the phrase refers to some property of being human, and then the common consensus is that this property is tied up with suffering, but perhaps it need not be. What’s this property then? Just like, experiences one must have to be fully an adult human? Babies are human, but haven’t had many experiences, hence my use of adult. But perhaps I should say something like “self-actualized”? Legally adult is clearly not the point here, there should be some more natural category.

I guess the best way for me to understand the first question is to attempt to picture a sci-fi society where no one suffers. Ever. Are they recognizably human, or are they effectively alien? Well, there we go, that’s like almost a doable-in-principle experiment, just get some engineers together for a few centuries and we’ll figure it out, till then, wait and see.

I suppose, almost by definition, if one has never suffered, then they have never felt the even a general approximation of all of human emotions. In that sense, they truly are missing something that’s important about being a human, and so one must conclude that to truly understand the “human condition” one must have suffered. If of course a taste of all human emotions is required for understanding the human condition. But I think that’s likely a necessary albeit not sufficient condition. Despite not being able to enunciate what the human condition is.

And I don’t even know that “the human condition” is something which one “experiences” so I don’t know what to make of the third question. Clearly I don’t know how these words work.

---

48. Are you free? Will you ever be? Can anyone be truly free?

(I can’t help but imagine that this was asked after a _huge_ bong hit. Please imagine my answer in the same vein, even though that’s not my thing at all).

My folks like to compare the American “free” ideal with the Russian “free” ideal. The American one is something like, “I have rights you know”. The government is massively powerful, but, theoretically, the government can’t just come into your house and beat you up because of your bad take online. (Please don’t link me 3 examples of the US government doing just that. Maybe they do. But you still can send me those links without actually fearing they’ll do the same to you). There’s all this nice democracy and you can contribute to politics and so forth, no taxation without representation except in washington DC, as the slogan goes. If you complain someone will hear you. Ideally. Call your congressperson.

The Russian ideal is, they say, not a rights-based freedom, “свабода”, but rather, “воля”, which is like, the ability to do whatever the fuck ya want. “You say Americans have freedom? You can’t even have a beer while you drive home from work!” Of course, nothing is perfect, you do have to respect the people with power, it takes power to have true freedom, *they* get to truly do whatever the fuck you want. So don’t go around calling Putin a piece of shit or the government will throw you in prison, as they have been in the latest protests. Don’t even go outside when there’s a protest going on nearby cause like, only protestors do ridiculous things like that. But the ideal, is doing whatever the fuck you want. Disrespecting those in power leading to shit is just what you expect, like, jumping off of cliffs leads to falling, so what, you’re going to complain you’re not free? That’s not a very proletarian way of thinking, ya sophist, up against the wall with you (I digress, ignore this sentence, it muddles the point).

So, can anyone truly be free? Certainly everyone can’t ever truly be free, cause I can’t be free to not be punched while you’re free to punch me. If we want the “do anything” definition of free. Then at most one person can be truly free, and realistically there’s probably something they can’t do because their body guards will turn on them or there will be a revolution or something.

Let’s put aside this definition of free, because, honestly, it’s shit. 

Besides cops (who I’ve basically never had a real interaction with, fun fact, certainly not a freedom-limiting interaction, I am privileged), what are other limitations on freedom? Well, society brings you up with its views and biases and various shit. Culture. Gender. Except, raise someone alone and they’re feral, not some ideal unbiased human from the platonic realm. So it seems we effectively cannot be free of the curse of being raised in a culture either.

Is there a point to a definition of freedom if it follows almost trivially from the definition that no human can have it? Well, philosophy, so yes, of course, valuable thought experiments etc. But is it really the definition we want to settle on officially for what Freedom is?

When’s the last time I wanted to do something, but I couldn’t, because of something which I legitimately believe is due to some person/organization/societal force is taking away my freedom?

Well. Maybe I’d wear a skirt if it wasn’t for society being eh about men doing that. But maybe I wouldn’t and it’s just a contrarian urge that I don’t care enough about to fulfill? I certainly haven’t ever bothered to try wearing a skirt in the privacy of my own home. There are things I don’t do because I worry about what people will think, but, in the overwhelming majority of cases, people would think nothing about me wearing a v necked tshirt instead of a regular one and it’s entirely in my own head and I’m working on it. Not society’s fault, not really.

So I think my answer is, never.

Perhaps I’ve been led to not even think of things which I’d have otherwise liked to do. But, eh sounds not super likely, or fits in with the “feral” category.

The obvious thing that’s taken away my freedom lately is coronavirus. But, again, it’s not quite the same as saying “gravity takes away my freedom to jump really high” but it’s damn close.

So I guess I’m pretty darn free, and your answers are “Yes, Yes (trivially), and Yes”.

Do actions have consequences? Yes, so the answers are “No, No, No”. I am not free until I can have my cake and eat it too.

Do I feel able to have any voice in politics, as our esteemed american founders fought for or whatever? No, I live in a city in a deep blue state, and our globe continues to warm at unsustainable rates while we torture, kill, and eat billions of chickens annually and I feel like this will continue to do no matter what I do. (Again, disclaimer: I am likely wrong about everything in this post. Don’t fight me. I did not look up that number it came directly from my ass.) (there are at least signs of the latter slowly changing. I still do not understand how to make a difference, on the margin, beyond the obvious, but that’s probably just a me problem, who knows. Not I.)

So I guess I’m not free, and the answers are “No, No, and Yes, namely, Putin is free to do whatever the fuck he wants except lose power because someone would shoot him but hey bet he doesn’t want to lose power so works out”.

Have I been influenced by society in ways I don’t like? Hmm that’s a more interesting variant of the “influenced by society at all” question but I’m tired. Yes, therefore, “No, No, uhhhhhhhhhhhhh I suppose there could be someone who was only influenced by society in ways that they like, hypothetically, so, Yes, but in any modern society, probably not anyone I’d enjoy talking to very much”.

Is there any version of this question where I answer “No, Yes, Yes”? Uhhhhhh. I can’t think of any. Not if the allowable definition of freedom is constrained to like, something that could reasonably be argued to be a definition of freedom, vs like “One of the above definitions of freedom, and you’re at least 60 years old, anyone younger just isn’t free by definition”

tl;dr as a mathematician these questions reduce to “what’s a good definition for <blank>” and these things happen to all be like geometries, there’s more than one good definition, so it’s a mess and there’s no short answer.

[pass-the-bechdel]

The Good Place full series review

How many episodes pass the Bechdel test?

96% (forty-eight of fifty).

What is the average percentage of female characters with names and lines for the full series?

49%

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 40% female?

Forty-four.

How many episodes have a cast that is at least 50% female?

Twenty-eight.

How many episodes have a cast that is less than 20% female?

Zero.

Positive Content Status:

Good - you might even say, strong - in the sense that it’s all there, pretty much all of the big representation bells are ringing, particularly the ones for women and racial diversity. That said, the show is generally content to sit pretty and not push the envelope on inclusivity, so if you’re looking for inspiration in-text instead of just in casting, you might be disappointed. At any rate, it’s a solid feel-good time, and not likely to make you mad (average rating of 3.01).

Which season had the best representation statistics overall?

The numbers stay pretty consistent across the whole series, but if I had to call a winner, it’s season four, which has the highest percentage of female characters and the only above-average positive content rating (though that was awarded somewhat cumulatively, and so doesn’t feel particularly well-earned by that season above the others). 

Which season had the worst representation statistics overall?

It’s such a close call, but season three must be the loser here by virtue of the lowest ratio of female to male characters; it also had one of the series’ two Bechdel fails. Like I said, it’s...a really close call.

Overall Series Quality:

There’s so much about it that is fresh and original and interesting, I wish I could love it more. After a magnificent debut season, the show suffers immensely for a lack of pacing and the absence of coherently-planned plot, and at times the stagnating characterisation and pointless filler caked into the cracks in the storytelling can be frustrating and/or tedious. I’m only as disappointed as I am because the potential for greatness was so strong. That said, even at it’s worst The Good Place is still entertaining, and most of it is better than that. It’s irreverent, it’s fun, it’s surprising, and sometimes it’s even as poignant as it is remarkable. I have my gripes, in droves, but that doesn’t mean this show is not worthy.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) under the cut:

Imagine. Imagine a version of this show where the first season is basically the same, and the second season is...somewhat similar to how it is, but with more focus and direction, less time-wasting; a second season where figuring out that some fundamental change to their circumstances is necessary comes early, and instead of faffing about with ethical lessons in the fake neighbourhood again while Michael pretends he can get everyone to the Good Place, we get down to business with going on the run and into the Bad Place to find the judge and petition for help. Imagine this show, but the third season has none of that return to Earth crap, and instead, is the neighbourhood experiment from season four, properly fleshed out. And then season four is all about going to the Good Place and solving the problems there, addressing issues with the concept of utopia and the ineffectual bureaucracy of obsessive niceness (used for comedic effect in the actual show, but c’mon, there’s a whole untapped reservoir about morality there). Each season could have (gasp!) a properly-planned and plotted arc, dealing with a different school of ethical considerations, and I dunno, maybe the characterisation could have trajectory too, and the characters could vitally shape the storytelling, and maybe not get their personalities and experiences erased and rebooted over and over again, nullifying large swathes of the narrative which came before? Ideally, they could be reset zero (0) times, or at least have all their reboot experiences dumped back into them in the first few episodes of season two, so that they could proceed from there as whole people. Rebooting everyone’s personalities is not actually necessary to the plot in any way, and is, actually, incredibly detrimental to storytelling and especially, character development. Imagine this show, but just chilling out and actually telling a coherent story? 

I am all the more annoyed by how things turned out on this show because I know that the four seasons were planned for, rather than being the result of cancellation; the idea that the creators sat down and ‘plotted’ (using that term loosely) to make this mess drives me a little wild. The (attempted) avoidance of the dreaded ‘stagnation’ seems obvious, and it leads to major narrative shortcuts and jumps and instances where the show spends an episode or two on what should have been a half-season’s development, minimum, and yet at other times all momentum grinds to a halt for a bizarre bottle-type episode where the characters just talk about a concept for a while or work on some unimportant romantic subplot. The various ethical concepts that the show heavily incorporated as its bread and butter in the first season start to stick out like sore thumbs in season two, seemingly wedged into one episode or another for no real reason other than just to be there, and the fact that the show lets go of the idea of moral choices in the life mattering at all in the end leaves the backbone of the show in a very strange shape. I said in the season four review that I didn’t expect the show to come up with some One True Answer about how people should live their lives, but that I was baffled by the fact that the show side-stepped that altogether; what I expected them to conclude was something in the line of ‘we recognise that life is complicated, not all situations are created equal, and it can be hard to know how to proceed ethically or even to access ethical options within one’s circumstances. Still, it is important to do your best, not only for yourself but for your community, because the more good you put into the world, the more there will be to go around and come back to you. What matters most is that you are doing your best with what you’ve got’. The fact that the show distracted itself with fixing how the afterlife rewards people within the afterlife means that it suggests no incentive to perform moral actions in life, and frankly...who gives a fuck? The real world is the place we’re all living in, and there’s no point starting a conversation about morality in real life if the conclusion is just ‘guess we’ll straighten out all the fascists and bigots and the other pieces of shit after they die, so don’t worry, everyone gets to Heaven eventually!’

Anyway, if that seems like just a reiteration of what I said in the season four review, well. I’m still baffled by it. The other thing I was going to talk about in the season four review but held for the full series instead was that one big thing that I have railed about all the time since season one, and that’s PACING. For all ye wannabe-writers out there, please understand how important pacing is. Even vital plot or character beats can seem like meaningless filler in a poorly-paced story, because your audience’s mind is hardwired to try and follow narrative cues that are being incomprehensibly muddled. Standard structure can be played with, but if you toss it out in favour of ‘stuff just happens, ok? Except when it doesn’t’, you just end up with a soup of disconnected story ideas, and nothing threading it together. Character interactions and especially developments can help to create the through-line you need to keep the story functioning despite itself, but as variously noted with The Good Place...initial characterisation? Strong, excellent. Development? Not so much, not least because they kept getting deleted and rebooted. Also, time skips kept happening, and that’s a great way to fuck over your narrative coherence even more: remove the recognisable constant we call time! It’ll be fine! As with all things, it is perfectly possible to play around with this stuff, but you have to know what you’re doing and be doing it for a good reason, and that’s not what they had going on here. This was narrative soup, and when you have a soup, the pieces all kinda meld together and lose any individual purpose, meaning, or power they may have had. The result in this case was not bad, but it really could have been so much better, and literally all it needed for that was some attention being paid to the story structure via pacing.

So. The good news is, I think I have pretty well exhausted all of my complaints by now, and that leaves us with the good stuff, of which there was no paltry amount. The show was not a hit by accident (even if I do feel that it’s success had a lot to do with people sticking around after the spectacular first season, and not because it stayed strong throughout), and even if there was a lot of soup going on, what comprised that soup was all really fun and unique, and this made for a wonderful piece of light-hearted television that could be as hilarious as it was insightful. It still had a lot of great takes on things, the commentary was strong (even if it pulled all its punches towards the end), and whether the storytelling was ebbing or flowing, it was always delightful. The show also managed to pull a miraculous finale out of its hat, and that’s a rare thing in television; however the story wobbled over the course, the ending provided enough satisfaction to forgive just about any sins, especially if you don’t happen to have been watching with a deliberately critical eye. Do I wish that Eleanor got to hook up with a chick on-screen some time instead of just making a lot of bi remarks? Yes. Do I consider the show to have queerbaited instead of providing genuine rep? No. Is the underselling of the queer content my most significant representation complaint? Yes, it is, and that's good news considering the world we live in and the dearth of quality representation that the industry has brought us to expect. 

There's an important distinction to be made there, regarding the tokenistic representation that is very common these days in tv trying for brownie points and good publicity, exactly that kind of 'political' inclusivity that conservatives are always bitching about. It should not be surprising that I support that tokenism over the alternative of having no representation at all, but it can still be quite disheartening to feel like your identity or the identities that you value are being referenced as nothing more than an opportunity for some shitty producer to perform wokeness for attention, praise, and the almighty dollar. I bring this up because - even though The Good Place never really worked up much of a boost to its content rating - one thing I felt that it did really, really right was providing representation without it feeling tokenistic at all. Eleanor's bisexuality wasn't as prominent as I might have preferred, and as noted through the course of the show, there were times I feared it was more bait than real rep, but reflecting on it at the end, the way it was included feels organic, it never gets in the way in order to ensure the audience notices and is dutifully impressed. The number of women around and the multicoloured casting plays out even better; I never once felt cynical about the gender balance I was seeing, and I've said it before but I'll say it again: the fact that the show was packed with names from across the world gives me so much life. I'm still a little salty about Chidi's Senegalese origins getting the shaft (and we won't talk about 'Australia'), but the nonchalant diversity of naming goes such a long way to embracing the idea that this is a world for everyone (and an afterlife for everyone, too). And where anything else might fall apart or lose its way, that is an affirming thing. If you want feel-good tv, it’s here. This is the Good Place.

[atamascolily]

lily liveblogs Star Trek: TNG 1x10 - “Hide and Q”

oh, man, a q episode. I'm so excited. I’ve missed that crazy fucker so much.

No Troi this episode? Hahaha, right, because I'm sure the crew will get up to all kinds of shenanigans without their resident counselor (or maybe her actresss just needed a day off?) Too bad, though, I like Troi.

Okay, who has the miniskirt as part of their uniform? I keep seeing background characters wearing it, but none of the main crew. At least, it's gender-neutral, inasmuch as I've spotted both men and women wearing it.

Geordi picks up a force field on the scanners... "It's almost like..."

....the last time we ran into that obnoxious Q guy at Farpoint, Data finishes.

(Riker totally missed that bit, so it's gonna be hysterical watching him catch up.)

Picard: "Not now, Q, damn it!" (is there ever a good time, though?)

I see the show is re-using its SFX from the pilot to save on money.

Q, a floating three-headed cobra attached to a translucent balloon: Hey, wanna let me make your dreams come true?

Picard: NOT NOW, DAMN IT, I'M BUSY!!

so that's what a Starfleet Admiral's uniform looks like with the ridiculous gold trim? WOW.

(love how the music sweeps to a dramatic flourish as Picard and Q stare at each other there)

Riker crosses his arms over his chest, and looks all smug as Q flirts with Picard. RIKER KNOWS. RIKER KNOWS EXACTLY WHERE THIS IS GOING.

so much flirting. so much flirting. I can't keep a straight face.

Q decides to flirt with Riker instead since Picard is Not Buying It, and then kidnaps the bridge crew to mess with Picard

Q is dressed up as Napoleon because of course he is, lol

(Q is literally just fucking with them all because he's bored)

Worf refuses to drink with Q and stares up down while dramatically destroying his glass, #respect

Q puts Tasha in a literally penalty box for threatening him, so much for any female characters in this episode, sigh

oh, wait, she's on the Enterprise with Picard, trying to explain everything and Picard is so sweet trying to console her ahhhhhh my heart.

Tasha says, "If only you weren't Captain", oh no, that girl has some ISSUES with sex and intimacy that this show has only hinted at, but NO PLEASE I DON'T SHIP THIS and Q shows up jealous, WOW, lot to unpack there.

Picard, as a French person, has, uh, issues with Q's Napoleonic outfit, lol, that’s totally why Q chose it

ahahaha, picard and q get into an argument over Shakespeare, I am LIVING FOR THIS.

Riker is doing the thing where he props his leg up on a boulder again, lol

(where is wesley crusher in all this, anyway? no idea)

Riker asks Data a question and Data turns and its Q in Data's makeup AHHHHHHHH SO CREEPY AHHHHHHHH

Q gives Riker phenomenal cosmic power, this is gonna be fun

Data is hesitant to explain that they were being shot at by animal creatures in Napoleonic uniforms because Picard is French. Poor Data.

Picard's like, welp, we don't have to worry about Riker, because Q's interested in him. Jealous much, Jean-Luc?

Watching Riker annoy Q is so satisfying, lol.

oh there's Wesley in his rainbow sweater, finally

Riker uses his new Q powers to save the crew from DEATH then makes a promise to Picard not to use it, even though he could have saved a girl's life with it later when they visit a mining colony and this bothers him.

(I see why Troi isn't around, she would have SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN in a heartbeat.)

Riker is so impressed with the Q, and everyone else - who was there for that fucking trial farce - is like, nah, bro, Q's a bastard, don't fall for it.

Q shows up dressed as a monk now, and encourages Riker to give the rest of the crew "gifts" using his powers

Dr. Crusher startles to hustle Wes out of there but too later - Riker turns him into AN ADULT STILL WEARING THE SAME RAINBOW SWEATER AHAHAHAHAHA (because he wanted to be “a man” and not, you know, a fashion icon)

(Geordi's reaction to aged-up Wes is "Not bad," which is just *chef's kiss*)

Data's like, no, I want no part in this, and quotes Shakespeare, so Riker doesn’t make him play this stupid game

Geordi gets to SEE with his eyes and his first reaction is to tell Tasha how beautiful she is, SIGH

but Geordi makes Riker take it back because he doesn't want to owe Q anything

Rikers gets Worf a girlfriend. I shit you not. They start brawling/making out on the bridge, which must be so awkward for everyone else, and then Worf rejects her, saying he has no place for sex in his life now

(but really this is the equivalent of the drink-tossing earlier)

We are spared Riker trying to grant Tasha's wish because the writers are SHITTY AT WRITING FEMALE CHARACTERS AND IT WOULD BE AWFUL by Riker admitting he's wrong

Picard’s like “no really?”

and then the rest of the Q show up and nab our rogue Q and he disappears screaming

Data asks how Q can be so good at time and space and shit at humanity, and Picard says space and time are easier, and you can see Data's "well, that checks out" shrug

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS EPISODE. WHAT THE FUCK.

don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed this, but the message got a little muddle with the incredibly convoluted plot, and none of the writers know how to write female characters AT ALL

like STOP SHIPPING TASHA YAR WITH EVERY MALE CHARACTER ON THE SHIP, DAMN IT

this could have been really good if the writers had been on their A-game, but instead it's just cracktastically weird

I think if I were to re-write the episode I would focused on either  the “Riker having the powers of the god” bit OR “Q forcing them to fight to the death on a random planet for his amusement” but BOTH plotlines in a single episode was really a mess

but hey, I am a simple soul, and Q messing with Riker and flirting with Picard is pretty hilarious in my book.

I still maintain none of this would have happened if Troi had been there, though, because Riker would have been “yes, ma’am” and sat the hell down as soon as she looked askance at him.

(still no clue what the title means, though)

[elsb-hrngtons]

We can help each other, You and me- Chapter 3.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Links to Ao3 in notes.

Holy shit, Steve was walking towards them. Steve who usually has all the grace of a skittish animal on ice is walking towards them, grace or lack thereof completely exacerbated by the combination of cheap booze he’s managed to consume in one evening.  Tommy feels his heart rate pick up, of all scenarios he had imagined of this night turning out, this wasn’t even on his radar.

He’s content with this thing he’s got going with Billy, Billy who’s all testosterone and hard edges, solid muscle and golden tan skin. Yeah Tommy’s got the luck of the draw as far as attractive guys go, and sure Billy does tend to lean towards behaving like a prize asshole more often or not, he’s actually not an asshole, not really. Tommy knows now it's all an act, a facade to protect himself, from what exactly he’s not entirely sure, but he knows it's all bravado.

But despite what he has going on with Billy, Steve’s still Steve and Tommy isn’t sure anything in this world could stop him from wanting him, and now Steve’s walking over. Well swaying.

Billy tenses next to him, they’re gazes meet one another, both a mirror image of shock and mild panic, before inevitably both their gazes return to Steve who’s weaving through the crowd to get to them. Shit.

Subconsciously Tommy’s reaching for Billy, looking for something to ground him before his mind goes off into a tailspin, Billy seemingly getting the idea, or needing it himself slings an arm around Tommy’s shoulder just as Steve stops in front of them.

“Harrington” Billy nods. Steve looks like a deer caught in headlights, looks like his brain is about 5 seconds behind the rest of his body and that he could literally bolt at any moment. He’s swallowing thickly, gasping for breaths, eyes all glassy and glazed over and he’s swaying on the spot trying not to lose balance. He fails . Steve falls forward, his arm flying forward and landing on Billy’s shoulder to catch himself. Tommy feels a slight pang of jealousy at that. “Jesus Harrington, how much have you had to drink?” Billy asks, swinging around catching Steve before he falls all the way, supporting his body weight from one side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Steve slurs, a dopey smile plastered on his face, arm jerking out before he boops Billy on the nose, and Tommy warms slightly, Steve’s smile was always enough to reduce him to mush and the boy has always been just a little ridiculous. Billy gestures his head at Tommy indicating he should come up the other side of Steve, lend a hand keeping him up right. Tommy like always does as he’s told.

Tommy is scanning the crowd for Robin, he knows Steve came with her, but she’s nowhere to be found, and he’s not really sure what to do. Steve’s mumbling incoherently between him and Billy, and Tommy would be amused if he wasn’t genuinely worried that Steve wasn’t ten seconds from passing out.

“C’mon Stevie boy, let's get you outta here” he coos as he and Billy haul his ass outta the living room and towards the front door.

“I thought you’d never ask” Steve slurs again flashing them both a grin before tripping up over his own feet on the way out of the house.

###

Mission accomplished Steve thinks to himself smugly as he’s placed into the back seat of Billy’s car. He impressed even himself tonight, he always knew he could be smooth when he needed to be, but even he hadn’t expected that putting on the charm would be quite so successful. He smiles quietly to himself as Tommy and Billy both get into the front seats and they begin their journey into the night.

Steve feels hazy, definitely not sober, definitely leaning towards too drunk, but it's fine, he’s done this plenty of times and he’s been far drunker than this, if only the world would stop spinning for 2 seconds so he could focus on his game plan.

The car comes to a slow stop and it takes Steve a herculean effort to lift his head from where it's resting on the window so he can access his surroundings. It's not his house they’ve stopped at. Good he thinks to himself, it means they’re not just gonna dump him in his bed and then leave.

Suddenly the front passenger seat is being pulled forward towards the dashboard and Steve is being hauled out of the car by strong arms.

“C’mon on pretty boy, let's get you inside” Billy’s deep gravelly voice is both soothing and lighting a fire in the pit of Steve’s gut, he wonders absentmindedly as he’s being half guided and half dragged towards what he now recognises as Tommy’s house, if he’s too drunk to avoid popping a boner right there and then, the being manhandled was doing things to him, his brain was far too muddled to really comprehend right then.

They’re taking him down to the basement, of that he’s sure. Tommy’s basement; the designated hangout of his youth whenever his parents dared to actually be in town. He can feel the slight drag of his feet along the carpeted floor as they move towards the couch, why aren’t his legs working? Oh that's right he’s drunk. Steve is silently willing himself to sober the fuck up, he can’t concentrate like this, he can’t successfully make his play with all the booze and adolescent attraction swirling around his brain and clouding his vision and thoughts. He physically shakes his head as if that is somehow gonna reset his brain back to normal functioning Steve. It does not.

He’s been unceremoniously plonked in the middle of the couch, while the boys fall heavily either side of him. He’s trying to be attentive to what's going on around him, but he finds it almost physically impossible to raise his gaze from the coffee table, the bloods rushing in his head and all he can hear is static and white noise, until the world comes back into startling focus, when he’s being nudged in the side by Tommy’s elbow.

Tommy’s handing him a joint and Steve knows realistically this is a bad idea, he needs to keep what wits he has left about him, but Steve’s never been accused of making good decisions or being particularly smart. He inhales the thick smoke, sweet and heavy in his lungs, smooth as he exhales and it dissipates around him, he takes another drag and melts further into the couch. His world is quite literally tilting on his axis as he tries desperately to focus on his present company and what they’re saying, his vision is spinning and he feels sick, he’s gonna throw up and he hates himself right now for effectively being his own ridiculous cockblock.

The guys must read his mind or he must voice his intentions out loud because next thing he knows they're scrambling to put a bucket in front of him as he lurches forward and violently expels the contents of his stomach.

Someone’s stroking his back, rubbing small circles in between his shoulder blades, he’s not sure who but he appreciates it as he gags and heaves through his misery. Someone says something but he can’t hear them over the sound of his own retching but he thinks maybe it might be something soothing. The bucket is taken away once Steves finished dry heaving and his breathing has calmed down, and he can feel his eyelids getting heavier, his head lulling to the side and forward as if his neck can’t physically support its weight anymore, he’s being guided back down onto the couch, his head resting in someone’s lap while the other throws a blanket over him and settles under his legs and feet. Sleep is pulling at him now, insistent and stubborn and he can’t stay awake much longer, despite how much he wants to fight it, he nuzzles his cheek into whoever’s thigh its pressed against, while they pet his hair gently and softly massage his scalp, the other is rubbing firm but soothing circles into his calves and it doesn’t take long before Steve drifts off into the sweet embrace of sleep.

###

Well this wasn’t ideal.

Billy’s feeling frustrated and a little disappointed, and he can tell Tommy is too because that kicked puppy look makes an appearance again, before Steve mumbles something incoherent in his sleep and nuzzles his cheek further into Billy’s thigh, and it's quickly replaced with a look of fondness.

Billy replays the evening's events in his head, he wills himself not to get hard thinking about his earlier activities with Tommy. He thinks back to the party, his brief moment of jealousy, turned to an even briefer moment of hope as Steve approached, the anticipation and apprehension as he worried about the other boy's intentions. The amusement at a clearly inebriated Harrington, and was he trying to flirt?.

Billy’s playing with Steve’s hair and it's just as soft and fluffy as he imagined it would be, he’s frustrated sure, had Steve not been so infuriatingly drunk, so far gone, the evening might have taken an interesting turn and his wildest fantasies may have become a reality, but here he is pinned to a couch under Steve who’s lightly snoring and making adorable little noises in his sleep. Its cute, but it also makes him itch with a combination of feelings, disappointment, the slight tinge of anger, fondness for the poor drunk mess, fondness for Tommy who’s cradling Steve’s feet as if they were some kinda precious thing, and he can’t help but agree with that sentiment, and ultimately he’s annoyed that even if the likelihood of bedding Steve was low to begin with, he could always rely on Tommy to be a sure thing, but even now that's a no go as they find themselves trapped under the weight of Harrington, too far apart to touch each other, and too scared to jostle Steve awake.

He knows he can be an asshole, and while in most situations he’d wear it like a badge of honour, he’s not so much of an asshole that he’d take advantage of a black out Steve and put him in a situation where he might not be comfortable in, sure it would have been easy to let him flirt, to maybe steal a kiss or two, but he could risk it all by doing that, and it just isn’t worth it, not right now anyway.

Billy wants to sleep, can feel the exhaustion in his bones, but his mind is racing and every time he thinks he might be blessed with sleep claiming him, he jerks awake as if he’s just woken from a bad dream, or he’s heard Neil’s footsteps outside his door, and isn’t that just great? Can’t get laid, can’t move and literally under the boy of his dreams and he can’t even sleep, he wonders if someone upstairs might be mocking him.

###

Consciousness doesn't come genty to Steve, it's not sudden, but it's not a soft transition from the land of nod to the land of living, like when the sun streams through his curtains on a sunday morning, and Steve can relax in the knowledge he doesn’t have to physically move util at least midday. The first thing Steve notices is the incessant pounding in his head, much like one of Robin’s band friends, beating a drum near constantly right in his brain, shaking loose all his grey matter and making his ears ring. The next thing he notices is the dry yet tacky feeling in his mouth and throat which brings back vague memories of him throwing up, confirmed by the bitter taste on his tongue and the fuzzy coating of his teeth and gums.

The next thing Steve notices is that he’s absolutely 100 percent sure he’s not in a bed, if the aching in his bones and joints is anything, and whatever coach he had the misfortune to pass out on is lumpy, hard and so very uncomfortable. He’s not brave enough to open his eyes just yet, scared that whatever light there is might just burn out his corneas, he’s also scared to confirm the niggling feeling the back of his brain keeps screaming at him, That he is in fact not alone.

Turns out Steve doesn’t need to open his eyes to confirm that, as whatever, whoever he’s laying on shifts under him and grunts slightly, and then adds to the mix of disorientation there's snoring coming from the direction of his feet. He wills himself to force his eyes open and looks towards the snoring figure, Tommy H in all his freckled glory is fast asleep, hugging Steve’s legs, head rested sideways on the armrest of the couch and a tiny stream of drool falling from his open mouth creating a wet patch under him.

For the briefest of moments Steve admires the scene before him, regards Tommy’s sleeping form with a swell of affection, before the ice cold reality of the situation at hand washes over him when he realises his face is quite literally next to Billy’s dick, and Billy isn’t immune to the plight of morning wood.

Panic swells in Steve’s gut as he’s bombarded with hazy memories from the night before, tableau's of a sequence of events that led him to his current predicament. He cringes as he recollects his attempts at being smooth, attempts being the operative word, and ultimately wants to die at the thought of being so  absolutely wrecked he threw up in Tommy’s basement and literally passed out on top of the two boys he’s been lusting after. He’s pissed off at his behaviour, especially as he didn’t even manage to get lucky.

He needs to get out of here before the reality has chance to settle in further and he has to face Tommy and Billy awake, he’s not proud of dipping out without waking them, but its not like he actually slept with them, and he’s too embarrassed to acknowledge the train wreck that was the night before. He gently removes his legs from Tommy’s vice like hold and rolls off Billy’s lap and falls between the couch and coffee table with a thud. He freezes for a moment looking towards the boys, checking for any signs of life and when he finds none he sags in relife and creeps out before either of them have a chance to stir awake.

###

As if things couldn’t get any worse he’s late to work, Robin’s already there greeting him with a smirk and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Look who finally decided to show up, sorry to drag you away from your boyfriends”

Steve stomps past her towards the back room so he can clock in.

“Shut up,” he bites, kicking the door open with more force than was strictly necessary and heads to the coat rack to hang his jacket and retrieve the worst hat he’s even had the displeasure to wear.

“Well good morning to you too” Robin responds, following him and leaning on the door frame, “What's crawled up your ass and died?” her expression is pinched and fraught with worry, Steve can feel her eyes on him as he moves about the back room preparing for the shift from hell. He meets her gaze and huffs out breath, blowing some of the hair that's gathered in front of his eyes.

“Sorry, I'm just not in the mood” He goes for the puppy dog eyes, hopes his expression is enough to convince Robin to drop the inevitable onslaught of questions that are certainly going to be headed his way.

“Obviously. What happened?”

“I really don’t wanna talk about it” he pleads, to Robin to God he’s not sure all he know is he wants out of this conversation as quickly as possible, and maybe to down a strawberry shake in the desperate hope of curing the hangover that keeps threatening a fate worse than death on him.

“Well tough. I need to know what happened Steve, I wouldn’t be a very good fairy gay mother if i didn’t” she states matter of factly as she follows Steve back out to the front.

“Nothing happened!” Steve mumbles

“Bullshit!”

“I swear Robin, nothing happened” he defends, he’s actively avoiding eye contact with her now, busying himself making a shake and anything that might keep his attention away from her knowing gaze.

“If nothing happened” she says leaning in “then why are you acting all grumpy” she swipes the milkshake from Steve’s hands and proceeds to take a sip.

“Hey!” He squeaks snatching the milkshake back “and i’m not grumpy i’m just hungover” he turns away from her, half to protect his shake and half to protect his dignity as Robin’s probing continued.

“Nuh uh, i’ve seen you hungover and you’re never like this” she gestures with her hands up and down towards Steve.

“Like what exactly?”

“Like a prissy bitch” she’s smirking now, fully in the knowledge she’s successfully riled Steve up.

Steve sighs, shoulders hunched and deflated as he accepts defeat, if he has any hope of getting out of this shift alive he’s gonna have to talk to Robin.

“I got too drunk”

“Duh i could have told you that Dingus”

“I threw up and then passed out on top of them.” he’s blushing, the embarrassment from last night and this morning too much to bear.

“Kinky.” Robin wags her eyebrows

“No. not like that” Steve huffs

“Like what then?”

“I’m pretty sure all i did was get drunk, make a fool out of myself and fall asleep. Literally achieved nothing and they probably think I'm nothing but a mess, which lets face it I am.”  He’s sitting atop the back counter,legs swinging down, slowly sipping at his milkshake which does little to settle his uneasy stomach, and he’s not sure if that because of the hangover or anxiety.

“You’re not a mess Steve” she tries to reassure.

“Yeah right” He scoffs.

Robin, determined in operation wingman, steps closer to him and grabs him by the face by both hands.

“Listen to me asshole. You. Are. Not. A. Mess.” Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, you’re not! You may act messy, but you’re not a complete mess” she’s smiling up at him earnestly as she lets go of his face. “ you’re funny, you’re charming, and objectively even i, a lesbian, can say you’re attractive, like disgustingly so, and even beyond all that you’re actually really sweet, i bet if you were just yourself, you’d have them eating out the palm of your hand” she squeezes his knee in what Steve's sure is an attempt to comfort.

“Okay , sure,” Steve says, voice dripping with sarcasm, which earns him a cuff around the back of his head. “Ow! Hey!” he protests.

“I’m serious Steve, trust me they’re crazy about you, you gotta stop thinking so little of yourself.”

“I’ll take your word for it”

###

The next morning after the party Tommy felt his heart sink at the empty space Steve had occupied only hours before. He’s not sure how long it's been since he left, but the warmth of Steve’s body heat has long since dissipated as Tommy blinks awake.

Tommy’s mind races as he tries to think back to anything that might have spooked Steve into taking off without a word, and he comes up blank, he worries if he and Billy may have come on too strong, but reconciles that they in fact didn’t come on at all, if anything it was Steve that was laying on the moves. That thought, for a moment consoles him, eases his troubled mind, until he realises with a pinch of rejection that maybe Steve hadn’t meant it at all. He was always a flirt when he drank, girls and boys alike he didn’t discriminate when it came to a bit of cheeky banter., and Steve had taken off either because he was disgusted with his own actions, or disgusted at the idea of Tommy and Billy not discouraging him.

Dejected and sad he shifts on the couch so he can shuffle closer to Billy, lean into him and find comfort in the warmth of his embrace.

###

It’s a joint decision really, to give Steve space, to avoid contact, give him a chance to overcome his embarrassment/disgust/shame from the night of the party, let him adjust or whatever.

It’s been a week since they last saw him, more since they last graced scoops with their presence, under the thinly veiled guise of loyal patrons, but actually for the sole purpose of ogling Steve and maybe riling him up a little. He is extremely cute when he gets flustered. That was a sentiment Tommy couldn’t help but agree with when Billy first said it.

Tommy, still without a job, and without much else to do during the hot summer days while Billy’s working at the pool, finds himself lost. He follows Billy around like a lost child, and what's worse Tommy’s fully aware he’s doing it and he can’t stop. He’s worried he might be pissing Billy off, by getting under his feet, cramping his style , not giving him enough room to breathe, but without Billy’s sure and constant, albeit sometimes volatile, presence, Tommy feels like he might spiral into a pit of despair, generated by a combination of conflicting emotions and boredom.

So Tommy clings to Billy, doesn’t much care about anything else, just that against all expectations he finds comfort in it, and everyone be damned he’s not about to give that up, for anything.

They’re at the pool today, Billy’s working, perched up on his lifeguard chair, like some proud sun-kissed Adonis, chiselled personally by the gods. Tommy is amused at how Billy revels in the sense of authority the job provides him, how drunk on power the blonde can get, and if Tommy’s being totally honest with himself, how all that authority, that power trip and not to mention the quite frankly scandalous uniform, makes his toes curl. He can’t think too hard on that, he’s pretty sure if he did he’d end up on some kind of register for sporting a half chub in the presence of all these snotty kids who have taken permanent residence at Hawkins Community Pool.

It's just as Tommy’s getting lost in his thoughts of rock hard abs, and an authority complex, that he’s snapped out of his daydream by several cubes of ice falling from above him and landing square on his chest.

“Hey watch it asshole!” Tommy squawks as he flings himself into a sitting position, prepared to send a truly devastating glare in Billy’s direction for fucking with him. It's only until he shields his eyes from the glare of the sun that he realises that Billy’s not fucking around. If it were possible the boy atop the lifeguard chair would be as pale as a ghost, as his jaw tenses and his eyes trail from the entrance and track the movement of someone. Tommy tries to follow his stare and feels a brand new and cool rush of panic begin, as he spots Steve and fucking Robin make their way over to some loungers on the far side of the pool decking.

Tommy chokes and before he has a chance to process anything else, Billy is jumping down from the lifeguard chair and dragging Tommy to his feet by his arm. Tommy squeaks at the sudden movement, but his brain soon catches up and he’s falling in line matching him step for step. Billy’s still half dragging him along, and Tommy’s certain drawing attention, but he can’t argue, can’t question Billy, not when he’s being like this.

Billy glanced over to his colleague Heather, sat on the table top of a picnic bench just outside the pool’s changing rooms.

“Hey Holloway! Cover for me while I take my break?” Billy yells, half asking, half demanding, not waiting for a response, before dragging Tommy into the staff changing rooms.

###

Steve’s wondering what awful things he’s done in a previous life and this life to deserve this fate. It’s bad enough that he has to face Robin every day, with her constant nagging and interfering in his love life or more accurately lack thereof, but to finally grow the balls enough to face his ‘Billy and Tommy problem’ head on, with a little liquid courage to aide him on his way, for him to totally fuck up and end up at square one.  Worse than square one in fact it’s more like square minus 10.

And now as if his constant torture couldn’t get any more painful Robin’s dragging him kicking and screaming to Hawkins pool, in a vain attempt to get him back on the horse, if there is even a horse still to get back onto.

“I’m sick of your whining Steve” she said “you’re never gonna achieve anything moping around all the time” she chastised.

“What if i don’t wanna achieve anything?” he argued. “What if I like moping” he pouted.

It’s not as easy as she’s making out to be, Steve thinks to himself, the whole getting back on the horse thing, getting back in the game. It’s not as straightforward as if it were a girl or girls he was chasing, and Robin of all people should understand that, what with her unrequited crush on Heather Holloway of all people.

He knows he’s dragging his feet, being a brat, but he just can’t help himself, it's a defence mechanism . She’s literally forced him to pick her up and drive her to the pool, and when he was a hair's breadth away from having a full blown panic attack, she talked him down, dragged him out of the pool and shoved him into the men's changing rooms, claiming to guard the door to make sure he didn’t make an escape attempt.

So now they’re changed and walking across the decking towards some sun loungers, prime location to scope out the landscape of the pool and keep half an eye on their ‘target’ until Steve grows to courage to approach them. Robin had got some insider information that Tommy was hanging out at the pool everyday while Billy worked, and thought it was an excellent idea to go to them, go to their territory so that Steve could slip away at any point he needed to, if he needed to.

Steve’s making a point not to raise his gaze any higher than the ground, he’s letting Robin be his eye’s for him, she keeps mumbling ridiculous shit like ‘target acquired’ and other shitty lines she’s probably heard from overrated spy movies or some crap. It’s because of this Steve doesn’t notice Billy jump down from his chair and hoist Tommy up by the elbow.

“Oh shit” Robin whispers.

“What?”

“They’re moving” it’s at that point Steve raises his head and spots Billy practically dragging Tommy into the staff changing rooms, in what appears to be a blind panic, he’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not. He swallows the lump in his throat and settles onto a lounger, eyes never leaving the door that just swung behind the two boys.

After a what feels like a lifetime, but in reality was probably at most a minute, he looks over to Robin who’s settled in next to him, she looks as if she’s having a crisis of her own, cheeks flushed, staring intently through her sunglasses towards the lifeguard tower where Heather has finally decided to perch herself on, Robin’s mouth hangs agape, and Steve would bet good money that if she had less self control she'd be drooling right about now. He reconciles the fact that with Heather in her sights, she’s actually gonna be less help that Steve had hoped for, less help than she had originally intended.

Steve steels himself, wills his anxiety away chanting an internal monologue of “You’ve got this.” and “you’re Steve Harrington for god sake, what are you worried about” the same mantra he had practiced in his mirror for at least an hour this morning when Robin called to tell him her cunning plan.

He’s far too sober for this, can’t blame the booze and feign ignorance if it all goes wrong, but after the latest disaster, alcohol has been completely removed from the playing field until he’s at least talked to the two boys.

With a shaky breath and a false sense of bravado, Steve stands up from where he’s perched and tries to walk as nonchalantly as he can towards the door he’d seen Billy drag Tommy through only minutes ago.

###

Steve’s stealthy, like a ninja. It’s like his thing, he opens the door as gently and as slowly as he can so not to make a sound, as he creeps into the dark depths of the changing rooms. His heart is going a hundred miles and hour as he takes in his surroundings.

He can’t see them immediately, but he can hear them. A shower’s running somewhere in the distance, and he can also hear muffled moans and stifled groans as he silently moves closer. He thinks he can hear the distinct sound of skin slapping skin, the undeniable sound track of a quicky in the shower, his imagination runs wild, is it them? He’s not sure, but it doesn’t stop his brain, or more accurately his dick from jumping to that conclusion.

He’s hard in his swim shorts, as his mind conjures images of Tommy and Billy fucking in the shower, skin on skin, dirty talk and filthy moans providing excellent kindling, to the fire burning in his loins.

“Fuck yeah, don’t stop” that was definitely Billy voice he heard, Steve claims a spot on one of the benches torn between interrupting and letting it play out, he ultimately leans towards letting it play out, he’s not rude . He’s staring at his traitorous dick tenting his shorts, contemplates the risks of touching himself, needs to touch himself so badly, who knew Steve Harrington was such a fucking pervert. The irony isn’t lost on him that he’s essentially doing exactly the kind of thing he gave Jonathan so much shit for back in high school, but god, when they’re making sinful noises like that can he really be blamed? His eyes snap up to the sound of Tommy’s voice.

“Jesus baby, you’re so tight” he grunts. So it's definitely the boys going at it like bunny rabbits in the shower, no need for imagination, and well that's all the encouragement Steve’s lust addled mind needs to pull at the waistband of his shorts, setting his cock free and giving it a few strokes.

He’s not even sure how long he stays there, pumping his fist up and down, revelling in the sweet sounds of fucking. He’s entirely lost in his own pleasure, must have tuned out the outside world, all the background noise, eyes screwed shut and groaning loudly as he cums all over his fist and stomach, because he fails to notice the shower shut off and the curtain being pulled back. He’s so consumed in the aftershocks that he’s completely unaware of the two figures standing directly in front of him.

“Damn Harrington.” Billy admires.

Steve’s eyes fly open, flush overtaking his entire body as he meets the stars of Tommy and Billy looking down at him. Steve regards the state he’s in and silent wishes the floor would swallow him up right then and there.

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Yesterday I watched the beginnings of The Purge happening in real time and wondered where, exactly, I was, both physically and ecumenically. And since this season of The News is starting off even more ridiculous than the last year’s season, I’m not just gonna bury my feelings, I’m gonna salt and burn them. It’s Supernatural

Alright, previously on SPN, I thought we were finally ramping up on the Main Arc for season 2 and boy was I WRONG. The next few episodes clearly put the Main Quest on the back burner. Which, actually is pretty standard for Supernatural - you get a good run of quest episodes and then a switch to self-contained episodes that just sort of brush up against the season arc.

Next up is “Nightshifter” - a pretty solid stand alone episode about a guy who is definitely not robbing a bank.��

I love Chris Gauthier, our Extra of the Week. Sam really does him dirty by refusing to give him the Truth is Out There deal. I think my biggest question coming out of that whole scene is why??? I mean, cool, Sam’s worried about Ronald Reznik getting killed, I get it, but how is Ronald’s story any different from any number of hunters that they’ve met in their lives? Ronnie even has his own John Winchester Patented Murder Board™. He did do a lot of the leg work for the Winchesters, even if he wasn’t 100% right. In Sam’s defense, Ronald does die almost immediately, but he had a great run. 

You did good, kid. You did good.

More questions that I had about this episode? Special Agent Henriksen. Now don’t get me wrong, I do actually like Henriksen as an antagonist. I appreciate that the show is acknowledging just how shady hunters are. I mean, sure, they’re saving lives and killing evil sonsofbitches, blah blah blah, but also, they are regularly breaking and entering, finding dead bodies, leaving prints at crime scenes, impersonating officials, desecrating graves, not to mention that they are the last person seen with people who end up dead or missing. Like, it was only a matter of time before that came back to bite them. 

Some A+ work from Charles Malik Whitfield

But here's the thing - season 2 already has SO much going on. Like, they gotta avenge their dad and kill the yellow-eyed-demon. On top of that, they gotta keep Sammy from turning evil. Oh and also, they’ve gotta keep Sam safe from other Hunters who might think he’s turning evil, specifically Gordon. Now on top of all that we have to worry about the cops? Now it feels like you’re just throwing obstacles in their path to be a dick. Listing it out like this, it feels like season 2 is turning into a bit of a hot mess? Ok, Because I know that Henricksen comes back as a recurring antagonist, I’m maybe reading too much into it, but the next episode he recurrs in is episode 19 of this same season, so...maybe not? 

As a side note, I’m just gonna reiterate that I like Henriksen. I like him specifically because he is an Antagonist, not a Villain. Same goes for Gordon, in this season at least. They are not Villains in the traditional way this show presents Villains = Monsters. Both Gordon and Henriksen think what they are doing is for the greater good and they’re both going about it within the boundaries of their own moral codes. It’s just that those moral codes are in the way of our Protagonists, the Winchesters, and that’s actually some neat writing, so good job Season 2 Writing Team. 

Next up is “Houses of the Holy”, the first ever SPN episode about angels, and if you know anything about SPN but haven’t seen this episode (or seen this episode in a while), you will laugh out loud at this line: 

AHAH! AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHahahah.

I will briefly point out that after this line I gave myself a sad by responding to my TV: “Do you need proof Dean? Or do you not believe in angels because that’s easier than thinking they don’t believe in you?” So you know, that’s where I’m at these days. 

And that’s basically it for this episode? I mean, there is a brief mention of the Main (???) Quest (???) when Sam talks about wanting/needing the angel to be real, as it gives him hope that he’s not all evil yet. It’s a nice piece character that comes out in a season that feels very Dean heavy in the emotions department so far. And so it does feel like a real hard let down when Sam finds out it’s not an angel, just spirit and he loses all that validation. 

Oof. That’s rough buddy.

Next up is “Born Under a Bad Sign”. On the surface, it looks like a return to the Main (???) Quest (???) but it brings me back to the question, what IS the Main Quest on this season?? IS it Sam Goes Evil? Like...shouldn’t the Main Quest still be Hunting the Yellow-Eyed-Demon? But I guess technically, Sam Goes Evil is part of the yellow-eyed-demon’s plan so stopping that from happening is stopping the yellow-eyed-demon and so technically that’s still...the Main….Quest?????????

It’s a little murky. In the same way that I think it’s smart that the Winchesters don’t defeat the yellow-eyed-demon at the end of season one, I also think it’s smart that they differentiate the through-line on season 2 from season 1, but when you pair the two seasons together it does feel like they’ve abandoned the part about defeating the Villain - the actual Villain, evil plans and twirling mustache and everything.

But then we find out that, no, no this has nothing to do with the yellow-eyed-demon, this is just Meg Being Meg. She’s not here for some grand purpose, she’s just here to dick around with the Winchesters. That bitch is powered by Murder and Spite and I love it. And I’m not gonna lie, Jared Padalecki is hecking CRUSHING Being Meg Being Sam Being Meg again. Just like, CRUSHING it.

Of course, the bigger issue at stake is, unsurprisingly, the relationship between Sam and Dean. Sam wants Dean to make good on his promise to kill Evil!Sam, and Dean just loopholes his way out of it, even when he’s shot and drowned and beat to shit. 

WHY is Dean driving in this scene? Between the head trauma and blood loss and the alcohol and whatever pills Jo gave him at the bar, he should NOT be operating heaving machinery. 

He says he’ll save Sam if it’s the last thing he does and like...he’s probably just gonna die trying? Which like...ok, sure, but also you’d end up with Evil!Sam probably taking over the world or some nonsense, so it’s not a great strategy.

On the other hand, based on Jo’s general vibe this episode, I believe that she would not hesitate to take a shot at killing an Evil!Sam and I kind of love her for it. 

That bitch is gonna do what it takes. Or you know probably just think up a better solution, she’s not so close to the situation and also she’s defs way smarter than all the Winchesters put together. 

So this episode is not about the Main Quest, not really, although it ties into the major emotional arc of the Main Quest so maybe??? It is??? Anyone???

And then to round out this disc, we have “Tall Tales”. What would Supernatural be without the one two punch of Highly Emotional Episode followed by That Funny Episode??

And “Tall Tales” is great. Jared Padalecki is, again, CRUSHING it and Jensen Ackles is so committed to that eating gag, just *chefs kissy fingers* c’est magnifique! 

I legitimately love this episode - the format is screwy, the narrators are both unreliable, DadBobby comes back. I want to complain that putting this episode in the same season as “The Usual Suspects” - another episode that breaks format - feels too soon, but you know what? You do you, guys. I love this episode and I love that the Trickster is a recurring...uhh, let’s call him another antagonist who thinks what he’s doing is for the greater good and he goes about it within the boundaries of his own moral code. Bless him he’s a delight and also he has a doggo so he can’t be all bad, right??

Also, yes, I know he turns out to be the angel Gabriel and you know what? I’m fine with that. 

I gotta say, for a quartet of standalone episodes (ok yeah, I’m officially calling “Born Under a Bad Sign” a Side Quest), these were hella solid. These are not just filler episodes, these are interesting and emotionally complex and very enjoyable. I’d argue these standalones are more interesting and enjoyable than quite a few of the standalones in season 1, so it really feels like the show is in its stride. 

This is why 20+ episode seasons are still relevant. Yeah, the throughline for the season does feel a little muddled and messy, but on an 8 or even a 12-13 episode season, you don’t get this kind of room to play and experiment and make fun of yourselves the way that SPN does. There’s all this breathing room to try new things. There’s space to introduce new characters and play with dynamics and surprise your viewers. 

A 20+ ep season is a daunting (and expensive) task, but there’s gotta be a certain amount of freedom that comes with it too. Freedom to just have fun with these characters and this world that you’ve created. I don’t mind shorter seasons - honestly, it saves me, personally, a lot of time and the writing gets sharper and tighter and better at telling the one story the show is here to tell. But I hope that, if television continues to shorten seasons, that they also allow at least a little time for standalone episodes like these. 

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

we’re partners in this.

so titans 2.12 was mostly about (awkwardly) moving pieces around to get them in place for a grand finale. it was great! but also awkward. but great! let’s talk about it, if you don’t mind:

SPOILERS ahead.

1. i apologise for going off on a tangent right off the bat, but i just had this weird bit of insight about this show’s universe and it’s kind of hilarious. so you know those clickbaity articles about titans fucking up its worldbuilding by having its characters be so blase about protecting their superhero identities? (screenrant and cbr have inundated my newsfeed. oh good lord the pain. the agony.) maybe that’s just how It’s Meant To Be. batman and robin have been around for at least a decade and a half; the big bat’s likely been around for longer. the justice league is a sophisticated organisation with connections, representation and influence on worldly affairs. no doubt there has been countless battles and alien invasions--to the point where superheroes have become so ingrained in public life that their identities are semi-public knowledge but Nobody Gives A Shit. it’s like asking folks about their local legislators--people are aware that they exist and perform a Function in society and that a minimal amount of research would reveal who they are, but most aren’t keen on/interested in doing that. as a result, keeping up a secret identity isn’t the priority it used to be. and That’s Fine! the titans universe is its own beast with its own internal mechanics and as long as it’s internally consistent, let it deviate from its comic origins as much as it wants to.

oh typical emmram, i can hear you say. scrambling for explanations to excuse careless writing and plot holes. well, dear Strawman I Just Made Up, you may be partially right--there was a time when i would’ve waved my ‘the author is dead’ flag, but (i like to think) i’ve matured since then. but also: have you considered that plot holes aren’t really plot holes if you can successfully use what’s been established about a story’s universe to explain them away and that it’s significantly more fun? 

with this background in mind, i can appreciate more than ever that titans plays out more like an intense, soapy family drama (with perhaps higher stakes than your average soap). this was never a show about a bunch of disparate heroes coming together and finding purpose in order to defeat a common enemy. this was always about a bunch of kids who grew up in a world where vigilantism and superheroing and magic and alien invasions are just an accepted part of life, and the deeply dysfunctional ways they keep coming together and pinballing away, over and over again. there’s no point where each of the characters have definitely Gotten Over Their Issues so they can all gather together to defeat the big bad; it’s why this late in the game we can have rachel looking for people to connect to and relate with that aren’t a series of adults who claim to protect her but only keep her in the dark; hank at the bottom of a self-destructive spiral; dick barely picking himself up from rock bottom, and kory falling apart at the seams. 

so anyway, that’s it on this edition of Emmram Tries To Give A Grand Unifying Theory of Titans; let’s move on to the actual episode.

2. rose’s story could’ve been so good, you guys. actually you know what, scratch that (she types, on a computer while having 20+ years’ experience in knowing how to use the backspace key), it’s a great story that got muddled in the process of the show trying to tell a number of great stories all at once. this season has been inexorably building up to dick grayson becoming nightwing, using his unreliable narration to build up suspense as we see him battle personal hangups and the fallout from literal decades of trauma to gain a sense of equilibrium and a renewal of purpose (it can be argued that even now, on the cusp of actually putting on that dang costume, he hasn’t really learned anything--but i’ll get to that later). if this is the main story that this season is trying to tell, then taking two gigantic detours for episode-long flashbacks and building up to jericho’s death as much as they did makes perfect sense. it also makes sense to set slade up as a foil to dick, in that they are both caught up in their heads and make self-absorbed decisions to protect their ‘children’ but dick comes through with the realisation that that’s a crock of bullshit. 

but that’s not the case, is it? there are so many things going on at once but they’re all orbiting around this throughline of ‘dick becoming nightwing’ and so we only get the barest glimpses of some relatively complex character motivations and development going on with the others. 

2.25. in this episode’s flashback (we’re still getting flashbacks! in literally the penultimate episode of the season! god i have never wanted to take a red pen to anything more) we come to a number of weighty realisations: the extent of rose’s powers, her feelings of otherness, her desire to connect with her father so that she doesn’t feel alone in her otherness, how desperate she is to connect with him--so much so that she’s willing to throw away her entire life and undergo physical mutilation in service of his revenge plan--and how...learning exactly how her brother died and... being with jason??? made her change her mind??? ok that last one’s a bit muddled, but i’ll try and make sense of it.

as far as i can see, there are four big turning points in rose’s story so far:

a) that moment in the car when slade invites rose to join him and reveals that he’s basically been funding her ‘normal’ middle class life till that point. i can imagine how destabilising that realisation might be to rose, and why she might think going along with slade, no matter how weird and how abrupt, is how she’s going to live a life true to who she is

b) but imagine actually being taken in by the titans, being given shelter and support and succour by a group that her father had described as ruthless and manipulative. i can imagine her still being on board with slade’s plan, but maybe the reason she didn’t do all that she could’ve possibly done while at the tower to sabotage the titans might be because she’s actually interacting with these people, and while they might be a Hot Mess, they aren’t actively cruel or vindictive. i wish the show had woven in more scenes of rose interacting with the others, of her learning intimate things about their pasts, of her bonding with the younger titans’ struggle with their own ‘freakish’ natures. rose hardly seems to have any presence at all after her intro episode, and that’s a pity.

c) dick’s confession about what actually happened with slade and jericho. it’s more complicated than she was lead to believe--her father was actually complicit in her brother’s death. it’s a very confusing moment for rose, who’s already (probably) feeling the first stirrings of guilt, unsure, really, about her devotion to the father and brother that she’s known only for a little longer than the titans themselves, and slowly coming to the sick realisation that slade used her as a pawn in his game against the titans. 

d) jason latching onto rose is understandable--he saw her as the only person making the effort to connect with him when he was feeling vulnerable and rejected by almost everybody else. jason practically bleeds a need for connection and acceptance. i don’t think rose anticipated that jason would come with her, or be as attached to her as he is--but she sees in him a sensitive and struggling soul baring his heart to her, and in herself the kind of deception and secrecy that she’d originally wanted to rebel against. so she finally comes clean with him, and thinks they should help the titans against her father.

i mean. i might be making some assumptions (actually i’m making a lot of assumptions, to be fair), but i’m just trying to work with what the show’s given us, which is... not insubstantial, but haphazard enough that it’s easy to forget that rose exists sometimes. 

3. i fell asleep right after watching this episode for the first time, and apparently at some point before actually sleeping i appear to have had some kind of Great Insight about it because in the notes app on my phone i typed in “dick bruce concept of justice” with no further explanation.

i’ve spent the better part of this evening trying to retrace my train of thought, and i think it went like this: essentially, i was curious that dick was so broken up about jericho dying that he banished himself to a five year long lonely journey to seek penance that ended with him voluntarily getting himself arrested, but didn’t seem all that cut up about zucco dying or basically ordering the deaths of the scientists at the asylum in 1.07. betraying jericho and the older titans’ trust in him is a far greater burden on him than being responsible for the death of people who have wronged him or hurt the people he loves. but this is also a man who has internalised batman’s mission and ethos for the better part of his life, so he can’t actually come out and admit that. instead the two things come together to form one conclusion: he killed jericho, and he must be punished for it. 

(i also imagine locking himself away in prison was a result of growing up under the influence of batman--who responded to trauma by embarking on rigorous, brutal, solitary journey of penance and extreme self-discipline. batman doesn’t ask for help. batman goes to the batcave and rides it out.)

so when dick finally breaks himself out of jail, it isn’t because he’s come to a great realisation about his self-destructive behaviour (although he’s aware of it on some subconscious level); it’s because he realised the thing he was punishing himself for didn’t actually happen. he hasn’t really learnt a lesson. to be fair, he would need some pretty intensive therapy to untangle the things running through his head, so it seems quite believable that this is the way he gets back on his feet in time to be nightwing.

4. i know people think that the conversation between rachel and kory was awkward, and uh, it kinda was a little bit, but it makes sense that they can talk like that to each other. rachel wants to protect dick but feels confident enough with kory to lash out at her; kory is unafraid to be vulnerable or sad around rachel which just feeds into the trust that rachel has in kory. i don’t know, i thought that conversation was a nice way to both re-establish this dynamic and give some insight into what kory’s feeling.

5. god, mercy graves--a family woman!--tenderly wiping the blood off gar’s chin after having turned him into her own personal killing machine is just... so unsettling on so many levels.

5.5. it continues to KILL me that gar had so much faith in the titans right up to the very moment he had his fucking skull opened up and his brains messed with against his will: an undeserving loyalty to a family who took his easygoing acceptance of their shitty treatment of him at face value and essentially threw him to the wolves. how do you even start recovering from this? i feel like we’ve gone past the point where a few heart-to-hearts could help.

6. man, hank spiralling the way he did was too brutal to be anything but deeply uncomfortable. i’m sure the teenager who bought hank’s suit from him was supposed to inspire hank and remind him of his place and purpose as a titan, but it came off as kind of a cruel joke. hank has been putting his body out on the firing line over and over and over again, and his lesson is to be told that he isn’t putting himself out there enough? yikes.

7. stu and lily and their collective disdain for dick grayson’s drama are my new favourite characters on the show and deserve their own damn spin-off. MAKE IT HAPPEN DC

[ladyloveandjustice]

Winter 2019 Anime Overview

I enjoyed every single one of the five anime I watched this season: Dororo, My Roommate is a Cat, Mob Psycho 100 II, The Promised Neverland and Kaguya-sama: Love is War.

So here are my reviews! I’ve cut back on the anime overview a lot, so these are shorter reviews than usual (though not quite as short at I’d like. someday I’ll be able to restrain myself)

Since I liked all of the shows, these aren’t in a strict worst-to-best order or anything, but the ones I found most impressive ARE nearer to the bottom. So let’s dig into last season’s anime.

My Roommate is a Cat

Premise: An antisocial writer in his early 20s adopts a cat and they both get their worlds expanded as they bond.

My take: Much like the kitty it centers on, this show is super cute, sweet and fluffy. If you’re a cat-lover and want to bask in some kitty adorableness, I encourage you to check it out. At first, I was afraid the main character Subaru’s grumpy misanthropy might be too much- I could certainly empathize with being socially isolated and avoiding people, but the way he was just rude toward others was grating. Fortunately, his character development is swift, so he quickly went from misanthrope to anxious-introverted-mess-who-awkwardly-muddles-through-social-interaction-for-the-sake-of-his-kitty, which I found EXTREMELY relatable. Subaru is coping with the loss of his parents and the fact he took them for granted while they were alive as well, so there are quite a few heart-string tugging moments.

The show’s central gimmick is that events will be told from Subaru’s point of view and then we’ll get his kitty Haru’s side of things. Yep, the cat narrates part of the show, which is how I knew I was in it for good. And Haru’s a very good cat! She’s adorable without being cloying, and at least realistic in how most of her thoughts revolve around food. Seeing her warm up to her hopeless human is just as sweet as seeing Subaru warm up to her. As a former stray cat, she has a rough backstory, so if even a restrained depiction of kitty death is too much for you, look out for that part. This show isn’t afraid to bring the feels, but it keeps things positive overall. Subaru’s friends are supportive and help a new pet owner out, and we even get a cute doggie in the mix. Overall, if you want a relaxing, nice watch with a simple, sweet story, you could do a lot worse than My Roommate is a Cat.

Dororo (Episodes 1-12)

Premise: Thanks to his father making a deal with demons, Hyakkimaru has to wander Japan and fight monsters to get his body parts back. He meets up with a young thief named Dororo.

My take: Dororo is a very loose adaptation of the 1960′s manga by Osamu Tezuka, who’s known as the godfather of manga. I was familiar with Dororo thanks to watching the live action movie for an article when I worked at epicstream (it must not have left an impression bc I remember very little) so I was curious to check this out. I ended up reading the manga too, and overall, I find it pretty impressive as an adaptation. It does a lot to make a really dated and incomplete-feeling manga more palatable and cohesive for a modern audience. Maybe I’ll do a full post expanding on those thoughts sometime, because the changes really are worth examining.

Dororo is definitely not for everyone- it’s a grim, dark show with lots of death and destruction.The story is especially not kind to women, who tend to die or be demons. The exceptions to this (such as a lady demon actually being presented as sympathetic) are mainly anime-original. Actually, while the anime eschews the original manga’s cartoon-y, jokey tone to be more serious, it actually has a much lower body count and more hopeful tone than the original, a contrast I find pretty interesting. But “more hopeful” is still not very hopeful. The story has pretty strong anti-war undertones and criticism of how authority exploits people, and there’s a lot of “these are the horrors of war” scenes and even a scene where Dororo witnesses a woman engaging in unhappy, reluctant sex work.

The premise of the story, a guy made up of mostly prosthetics on a quest to get his body parts and senses back, is also a dicey one in how it treats disability. The anime does at least make updates to the manga that lend the story a little more complexity on that front. In the manga Hyakkimaru can basically hear and speak through telepathy already and he’s portrayed as simply joyous whenever he gets a body part or sense back, despite not having a practical need for them.

The anime wisely jettisons the telepathy thing, meaning that Dororo and Hyakkimaru have some difficulty communicating, something that adds an interesting layer to the story. It means we find out about Hyakkimaru’s personality in bits and pieces alongside Dororo, going on a journey of discovery with him. And Hyakkimaru getting senses back is treated in a more realistic mixed-bag way- when he gets his hearing back, for instance, he has difficulty adjusting to it and experience serious sensory overload. It’s not really clear how he feels about a lot of things, much less the changes he’s going through.

Dororo himself is the heart of the show, really, and I find him to be really endearing and engaging as a character. His boundless energy and chattiness balance out the aloof Hyakkimaru, but he never gets overbearing or obnoxious. He’s been through a lot himself, and has a good heart. One thing worth keeping an eye out going forward is how Dororo’s gender will be handled. Dororo is afab, but in the original manga very vehemently lets everyone know he’s a boy. The anime also lets you know Dororo’s afab halfway through, but hasn’t really done much otherwise in exploring Dororo’s gender identity. I do think it’s unlikely we’ll get a handling of it as bad as the manga’s final chapters (Manga Hyakkimaru had a lot of strong, intrusive opinions about what Dororo “really” is that I think his anime version is unlikely to have based on his restrained characterization so far), but who knows.

Overall, Dororo is a nicely animated and well put-together dark action series so far. I’m not sure I would have ended up watching it if I wasn’t so interested in examining it as an adaptation, but the ride’s been pretty okay and worthwhile.

Kaguya-sama: Love is War

Premise: Miyuki Shirogane and Kaguya Shinomiya are the top students at their prestigious school, and heads of the student council. They also have a crush on each other, but both are too full of pride (and nerves) to make the first move, so they come up with schemes to trick the other into confessing. Hijinks ensue.

My take: Kaguya-sama is a wildly funny rom-com about two idiot smart kids who don’t know how to say how they feel. It’s mostly a really good time. There’s a lot of laugh-out-loud moments. The characters are a lot of fun, especially Kaguya’s friend Chica, who is pure chaos in human form and has some of the best lines in the show. The animation and direction of the show are also impressive and lavish, elevating already good gags into greatness. The finale also does that thing where it’s all suddenly surprisingly emotional and hits you really hard with all the feels, showing a little depth and true friendship among all the characters involved.

However,there are a few “yikes” moments, and the most uncomfortable one and likely the biggest deal breaker was the “Kaguya gets sick” arc, which happens roughly the last half of episode 9 and the start of 10. In it, we’re treated to tropes that are both really tired and really uncomfortable, like Kaguya being sick and her friend, for some reason???, tacitly encouraging Miyuki to take advantage of her in her weakened state. Miyuki does not, but Kaguya pulls him into bed and he falls asleep due to sleep deprivation (which is admittedly relatable) and when they wake up she believes for a time he did assault her and throws shit at him, at which point he whines about being villainized even though he “held back”.

During the next episode, Kaguya is ~secretly kind of upset he didn’t assault her because doesn’t he find her appealing~, a trope that really needs to die bc the myth girls “really want to be assaulted” is dangerous. There were a couple okay moments in the whole thing, like Miyuki deciding he should have shut the whole thing down more firmly and apologizing for an infraction, and since Miyuki didn’t cross a significant line it doesn’t ruin their relationship or make them impossible to root for or anything, but the whole thing is tired and gross and unnecessary and not all that funny. I was able to handle it because I got warned ahead of time, but it was a chore of an arc, so here’s my warning.

The Promised Neverland

Premise: Emma and her friends Ray and Norman are orphans being raised in the happy, idyllic Grace Field House. They’re never been outside it though, and there’s a wall they’re never supposed to approach. When Emma discovers the truth behind the orphanage, a tense thriller begins.

My take: I was looking forward to this one based on word of mouth, and mostly it doesn’t disappoint! The writing hooked me enough that I’ve picked up the manga to continue the story. This a rich story. It’s an intense game of cat and mouse between genius kids and unscrupulous adults where the stakes are super high. Emma and her friends pull out all the stops to outwit and escape the ones holding them captive, and the twists and turns of the narrative are delivered well. There’s also some social commentary buried under its horror to add some bite. This essay goes into how it comments on forced societal gender roles, for instance.

 A thrilling plot can only shine thanks to its characters, and Emma is great protagonist. Her determination to save her family and unpredictable nature make her fun to follow. She’s a rare and refreshing example of a female shonen protag, and she sells that power of friendship stuff pretty well when she has the brains and skills to back it up. The three main kids balance each other well, with Ray’s cynicism and pragmatism contrasting Emma’s stubborn idealism, and Norman stands in the middle as someone who’s inclined to think like Ray but WANTS to be more like Emma. Despite the many conflicts and differences between them, these kids are ride and die, and the show does a good job selling their familial-friendship. A lot of the moments between them are truly heartwrenching.

The story has a big glaring flaw, though, and that’s Sister Krone and the racism regarding her. It’s not my lane, so please read Jackson P. Brown’s essay here for more info. The anime not only replicates the problem with her design but makes things arguably worse than the manga by making her personality a caricature as well. The anime portrays Krone as far more unhinged and exaggerated than her vindictive but more controlled and canny manga counterpart, even adding this weird thing where she rants at and beats up a doll. This review on episode 8 talks about the author feels the anime failed with sister Krone and his feelings on Krone as a black character well, it’s definitely worth a read.

While I have those issues with the anime’s choices, I was impressed with how the last few episodes were directed. They hit it out of the park, leaving me breathless, emotional and wanting more. Thanks to that, I’m now reading an enthralling adventure manga! This anime was definitely flawed but I can’t deny I’m interested in seeing how the second season will shake out.

Mob Psycho 100 II

Premise: Season 2 continues to tale of Mob, a ridiculously powerful psychic middle schooler.  He’s in the employ of Reigen, a con-artist who has fooled many (Mob included) into thinking he has legitimate psychic abilities.

My take: Holy wow. Mob Psycho’s first season had some incredible animation, atmosphere and direction, but season two fires on all cylinders. I’m glad I caught up in time to experience the show with everyone else these last few weeks, because it was always a treat- a visual feast full of heartpumping action and lots of sincere emotion.

Mob Psycho is an animation extravaganza, with some sequences that wouldn’t feel out of place in a high budget movie, dripping with atmosphere, artistry and aplomb. But the story and characters are really solid too and it has some nice themes and messages at its core. Mob is one of the goodest good boys in all of anime and he grows a lot throughout this season. At the core of the show is the idea that no one is worthless and also no one is more “special” than anyone else, that having power doesn’t give you the right to put yourself above others, that no person is inherently superior or inferior to any other, that even if you’re born with some super talent, you still need to try to improve yourself, value other people and the things they can do that you can’t and work hard to live a balanced life. Being powerful or born with a talent doesn’t mean you have the answers or know better-so it’s all about striving to make good, compassionate choices and taking control of your own life.

There’s a lot of stories that pay lip service to themes like these without really doing much to back it up, but this show sells it with an earnestness that few manage. Mob is a quiet and gentle boy, and you genuinely believe it when he says he doesn’t like fighting or using his powers on other people, and when he breaks down in tears because for all his power he can’t figure out how to set someone on the right path this time, your heart aches. The fact that Mob actually has difficulty coming up with the right answers and will sometimes gets overwhelmed by emotion and loses control, but keeps striving for honest communication, makes his approach come off as a lot more believable than the typical shonen-hero-converting-bad-guys-with-a-confident-friendship-speech bit.

The character relationships in the show are also good stuff, particularly the relationship between Mob and Reigen, which develops a lot this season with Reigen having to grapple with how yeah, he’s been kinda terrible and dishonest, especially with this kid he cares about and there’s a point where people have enough of it. There’s a lot of nice growth there.

All together, Mob Psycho is just Good with capital G. I do wish there were more girls in it, and there is a dark skinned character who���s caricature-ish in his design (he barely shows up in this season iirc), but otherwise it’s a quality rec and breathtaking example of the truly transcendent heights anime can reach. 

[deviant-hunter-rk800]

Break — [X] SAVE HER

IF YOU HAVE NOT READ BREAK, DO SO BEFORE READNG THIS!

Officers sweep past, but Connor doesn’t move with the tide. People are shouting, flashlights moving back and forth, flooding the space. Someone calls his name and the android is finally ripped from his dilemma.

“Where’d he go?!” Came Reed’s voice, upset and rightfully so.

“He went towards the southwest corner,” Connor answers loud enough for the entire room to hear. “He’s injured. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

More orders are given, leaving Gavin, Connor, and two medics tending to Hank.

“Detective,” the android says, earning a half-interested grunt, “we need to leave.”

Gavin’s head whips towards him. “Oh really?” he laughs humorlessly. He takes a step forward, jabbing Connor in his chest with his finger. “You just let our best lead get away. And you wanna go on a fuckin road trip?”

“Something came up-“

His nose twitches. “What? An update from CyberHell finally came through?”

“Your partner,” Connor snaps, matching Gavin’s low growl. The man’s harsh glare falters. “She called while I was trying to apprehend the suspect. Two men broke in. I believe she may be in serious danger if not-“

“Don’t,” he cuts off quietly, his face pale. The venom returns to his voice but it’s strained. “Don’t fuckin say it.”

Gavin moves towards the door from which they came, Connor matching his stride. Red and blue lights cascade over them both, basking them in their colors. Reed gestures at the nearest patrol car and Connor walks around its front to get in.

“Adam!” Reed shouts, gaining the attention of the young officer by the door. “Make sure the lieutenant is taken care of! Shit hits the fan, you call me, got it?”

“Yes, sir!”

With one last nod, Gavin slides into the driver's seat, turning the key until the engine roars to life. The car’s rear end slips on the loose gravel, tires spinning wildly at the press of the accelerator. Grip on the wheel tight, Gavin doesn’t look away from the windshield.

“Where is she?”

“Y/N?!”

Caution was thrown to the wind as Connor barrels through the front door, biocomponents seizing at the mess inside. Books littered the floor, blood splattered here or there on the carpet and walls. Gavin follows closely behind, gun drawn. The RK800 quickly follows the trail to your borrowed room.

You sit against the far wall, snow drifting through the broken window and onto your head, the white specks striking against the drying blood. Your heartbeat is steady. Connor steps – nearly tripping – over the chair that upside down and in pieces. His hands cup your face and your breath hitches, weakly moving your arms to push him away. With blood in your right eye and your left swollen shut, you could barely see his silhouette.

“No,” you murmur hoarsely, “no more.”

The truth of your pain is self evident in your voice. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Connor.”

Taking hold of your wrists, he holds them gingerly in his hands, hating the way you tremble. A choked sob escapes your lips, the sudden push of air making your body jolt with pain. Connor’s fingers move deftly over your skin, assessing your wounds, your blood staining his fingertips.

Whining from within the bathroom has Gavin opening the door slowly. Sumo lays on the tile, shrinking back with his ears lying flat. Reed holsters his weapon, extending a hand carefully. The Saint Bernard sniffs before licking him. Gavin chuckles, the sound nothing more than a couple puffs of air from his nose. The dog pushes itself to a stand, legs shaking as he limps into the bedroom.

Gavin follows, lips pressing into a hard line. “House is clear.”

Connor nods. It’s all his over-processing, anxiety muddled brain can manage. He wants to shove those feelings in some distant corner of his thoughts, jamming it in his wiring so it can’t reach his heart. Your good eye flutters, head settling against the cold wall once more.

“We need to get her out of here,” Gavin mutters, a shiver wracking through him. “Get her and the dog some help.”

Again comes that stupid, mindless nod. The Detective’s brows pinch together, surprised at the android’s lack of further movement. Stepping around him, Gavin finally gets a look at Connor’s face, recognizing the guilt swarming his features. Reed crouches next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” for once, there’s no hostility in the man’s voice. The RK800 forces his gaze away from your beaten frame. “We can still help her.”

A cold wind blows over them, Sumo nuzzling into your thigh. You make no effort to pet him, your hand limp in Connor’s hold. Delicately, as if you were made of glass – the next snowflake to land upon your skin would cause you to shatter – Connor picks you up bridal style, cradling you against his chest. You were unconscious by now. Feeling your weight in his arms, he suddenly understood Atlas’s pain.

“C’mon,” Gavin calls to the dog, patting his thigh. Sumo tilts his head but follows regardless. He frowns at the busted window, but realizes there’s nothing he can do. Closing the front door as best he can, Gavin hurries to help Connor into the backseat.

“You sit with her,” he utters, throat tight at the sight of your blood freezing in the fresh snow. “Big guy’ll sit up front with me.”

Hands shaking, Gavin gets Sumo into the passenger seat, the dog happily jumping inside the car. He keeps telling himself that you were going to be alright and that there was nothing to worry about, but he always was a bad liar. He drops into the driver's seat, eyes focused on the glow of red from the  android’s LED is the rear view mirror as he starts the vehicle. He could be an ass, yes, (he couldn’t deny that no matter how badly he might want to), but you were still his partner – his friend. Lord knows he doesn’t have many of those. The thought of God flits through his mind as he turns on the lights, turning towards the hospital.

I don’t do this enough, Reed prays, almost surprising himself, but please. Don’t take her away just yet.

If it weren’t so quiet – if that calm aura of the room didn’t offer to coax you back to sleep – you wouldn’t have heard him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You turn, finding Connor standing in the doorway to your hospital room. He wants to say more, you can see it in the way his jaw hangs slack, but no words come out. With glassy eyes and sagging shoulders, he looks like a puppy after being scolded, left out on the porch for the night.

“C’mere.”

Setting your tea down, you sit up, clenching your teeth at the spike of pain as you do so. He gives a weak shake of his head. The light of the rising sun peeks through the blinds, catching your hair so you glow; a halo of light feathering across your face the way his fingers long to. Unable to deny your soft request, he moves forward.

You take his hand in yours, feeling how warm his skin is. “Connor.”

Why did you have to say his name like that? Like you still had faith in him?

“This isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve acknowledged your call properly. I was-“

“In the middle of a fight,” you finish for him. You smile tiredly, adding, “If I heard it right.”

That quiet comes back, enveloping you both as Connor finally sits down on the edge of the bed. His hand trembles as he frees it from yours, hovering just by your cheek. Offering another weak smile, you press your face into his hand, relaxing at the touch.

His thumb moves swollen over the swollen arch of your cheekbone, his nail catching the butterfly bandage there ever so lightly. You let your eyes fall shut. Nestling further into his warmth, a shaky breath passes your lips.  You bring your hand to the back of his wrist, a silent plea to keep it there.

“I would’ve done it again,” you murmur suddenly.

His thumb stops its movement, your lashes brushing it as your eyes open. He searches for his voice, finding it cracked and worn, “Why?”

His earlier thought of having never seen you cry is rectified, and he can’t remember when he last hated something so much. The tear falls heavily, rolling down your face without invitation.

“They wanted to kill you, Connor,” you whisper. “They wanted to tear you apart.”

His lips part, the whisper of dying words escaping him. His brain housing group catches up, the sudden urge to rip himself from you overwhelming. Guilt threatens to drown him, flooding his lungs with something he can’t quite identify. He tries to pull away, but your grip tightens, giving him no choice but to stay; whether you were holding him under or pulling him free, he couldn’t tell.

“Why would you do that, Y/N?” His brows pinch together, voice small and brittle. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

“Because I was it.”

You watch his LED flicker yellow, matching the golden hue of sunlight resting on his skin. You shake your head in his hold, eyes darting to his then the floor and back again. Drawing in a heavy breath, your eyes sting with the strain on your rib cage, but nevertheless, you hold the air in your lungs, finding a strange form of comfort in its ache.

“If they would’ve left, they would’ve left to find you. And if something happened to you, I-“

Connor tips his head, screwing his eyes shut, the pressure forcing those tears previously resting on his lashes to fall. He can feel your breath across his skin; a gentle hum of wind before a storm.

“I wouldn’t have come back from that.”

Forehead touching yours, his free hand cups your face, artificial lungs clawing for a breath. How he got here, he wasn’t sure. He could recall the warehouse, Detective Reed going well over the speed limit, Hank’s house torn apart by the intruders, but at what point did his thirium pump start hammering in his chest? When did your presence cause his sensors to go haywire? Surely it wasn’t a glitch in his system — CyberLife ensured he had been the best android model to date — so maybe, just maybe, it was when he realized-

“You could’ve died,” he whispers dejectedly, voice sharpening at the end.

A weak smile pulls at your lips. “Annoying isn’t it? How scary the thought is?”

He laughs; strangled and unfamiliar, but the sound is unmistakable. Both of his thumbs swipe away your tears. There’s a scuffle at the door, and you slowly part, Connor choosing to face the window.

Gavin stands there awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck, feeling guilty for intruding.

“Hey, Gav,” you say gently.

His head turns fast. “Hey,” he replies, cautiously entering the room. “It’s, uh, good to see you awake.”

Your smile slips, finding the thin, knitted blanket thrown over you much more interesting than either of them. Your broken fingernails pick at a stray thread.

“Thank you.” Their gazes fall heavy on you, and you squirm under the scrutiny. “Both of you.”

“For what?”

Which one asked, you’re not sure. You shrug, wanting to laugh but finding yourself unable to do so. A hint of sarcasm easily takes its place.

“For saving my pathetic ass.”

“Y/N-“

“I lost my head last night and it almost cost me,” you continue, not letting the other finish. “It’s just-“ you look up, eyes dancing between Connor and Gavin. “It’s good to know you’ve got my back.”

Gavin gives a curt nod, lips pulling into a thin smile. “That’s what partners are for, right?”

“Yeah.” Connor’s fingers tangle with your own. “I guess it is.”

[the-progress-bar]

You Wore Out a Path Recap

I haven’t written something this long in … well, I don’t want to check.

The Inception

I don’t remember where the idea for this came from, specifically. I wrote the beginning of the first chapter for Camp NaNoWriMo, along with a whole slew of other FE:A material. It turns out that I’m extremely bad at writing linear narratives, given the absolute mess and if you say goodbye is to straighten out and more casually in the boy across the hall.

Chapter One

The fairy tale was written first actually. I filled in around its scene breaks with Robin being in a Bad Mental State™ as a way to carry this. weird, meandering fairy tale. Also, there’s a much more comedic story in the works that involves Grima and Robin again and I wanted to do something more serious on that vein at the same time.

He strikes to the south east. For some reason, Donnel didn’t stay in the armed forces as Robin hoped but went back home for good.

Donnel! I love Donnel for the sheer comedy of some country boy latching onto the Shepherds, which is otherwise comprised of nobles, and him being able to take on a whole battlefield by himself, leaving the rest in the dust. But he doesn’t stay in Ylisstol and Robin and I are forever sad over that lost potential.

Thunder crumbles around the spirit. They press a stone into the prince’s hand and sighs.

Here’s an instance where it’s clear that I didn’t outline the first chapter at all nor was I thinking about how the pieces fit if I expanded the story. This stone was supposed to do your normal fairy tale shenaniganry with like. Blessings and shielding and magical properties. Then I completely lost that vein and only left the part in where spirit!Robin basically gives Chrom, the prince, their heart. Good job, me. This constantly bothers me, but I also don’t have the motivation to rewrite this bit.

He freezes at Frederick’s stare.

I sincerely love Frederick for reasons that are spoilers for a giant FE:A fic I have in the works, but he’s also so, so fun to wind up.

Chapter Two

So, now I had to actually sit down and outline how this story went. Just a bunch of sentences jotted down, but enough to make me realize how bizarre the geography in this game is. Like, what even is going on with the story’s timeline? Do you know how long it takes to move an army over a continent, when its fastest mode of transportation are horses? I never get how they’re able to run from Plegia over to Mount Prism, then back to the opposite side of the continent and onto Grima’s back. Did Grima just wait for Chrom and co. to arrive? Like, they’re extra enough, but Nintendo, come on.

Let me just say, the FE:A world map has been a permanent fixture in my browser for months and I’m glad to see it gone.

Chrom sinks onto the bed and stares at the coat in his hands.

It’s been almost a decade.

The reason it took Chrom so long to appear among the character tags is because he wasn’t supposed to appear. Not until the last scene. Somehow he snuck into the open and close of the rest of the chapters and I didn’t kick him out.

“I died, Frederick,” Robin snaps. “Please leave it alone.”

Rereading the earlier chapters, I’m a bit surprised myself about how bitchy and defeated (?) Robin is. Being possessed by Grima sucks, and so does slowly turning into a dragon-human thing, but wow boi. Normally my characters are more on the “body slam our problems into submission” side of the spectrum. It all works out eventually, but for a while I had to deal with the nasty problem that apparently only the female characters have any of their shit together.

“Blood magic is a sorry inheritance,” his mother said sadly, thumbs rubbing at the brand on his hand.

I hope you all love Modron as much as me, because I love her and aggressively ignore how Nintendo did her dirty by including her as a key character in a whole bunch of fics coming down the pipeline. Though in this particular fic, her presence snuck in while I wasn’t watching, but not enough to recreate the Chrom situation.

The fisherman knocks on the wooden door of his younger brother’s stone house.

I planned on putting a fairy tale of my own creation into every chapter, with each linked in a tangentially narrative way to Robin’s family. Obviously that didn’t happen. This tale was supposed to be involving Robin and two Morgan’s. That plan derailed immediately.

Chapter Three

Robin’s daughter greets Chrom in Chon’sin’s silks and lacquer, the twists of dark purple contrasting her currently golden hair.

I keep making Say’ri a lesbian. That point doesn’t come up in this story, because Chrom wasn’t supposed to take over so much, but Morgan and Say’ri are together by this point, even if that gets muddled a bit by their weird work relation. I’m just saying, like father, like daughter.

And yes, Morgan dyes her hair. This is more established in the remix I wrote out of boredom of yet another chapter of Robin and Frederick yelling at each other in the snow.

“It’s a wonder your wayward mother never tried fleeing the continent all together,” Grima says.

At this point, I just accepted that I had no control over character barging in because they felt like it. Grima kept the story interesting at least, or else this whole plot would have been the slowest, most boring road trip ever.

At the cost of bloating this chapter and shoving out some other content I initially wanted to cover.

Due to Ferox’s waveringly official stance of neutrality, we spent a few years moving back and forth here.

[Cackling laughter]

Lon’qu and Olivia drop unannounced into the unoccupied seats at the table while Frederick and Robin waited for their dinners.

This scene is … weird. A slight mess. Originally, Lon’qu and Olivia had the same level of screen time as Donnel and Nowi did in the first chapter. But I already had the outline sectioned off into five chapters and writing even more scenes on boats was not a good usage of my time. Presumably, the khans got word that Robin and Frederick were back and heading to Valm and since Lon’qu and Olivia were already in the area with the same destination, they decided to do a favor and sent a message ahead.

What are the Ferox kids doing in Valm? Spying Something, wasn’t important.

A hazy memory of before. Sumia stumbles into Robin’s shoulder, the two of them laughing, drunk on wine and mirth.

In my drafts, there’s half of the fairy tale that was supposed to go in this chapter. Sumia drunkenly tells an equally sloshed Robin the story as they stumble around in the castle. It’s a more standard tale paralleling Modron hiding her children from the Grimleal and made much more sense than whatever was happening in the last chapter. Unfortunately, I cut it out because certain parties used up too many words when they weren’t even supposed to appear.

Chapter Four

Chapter four and five were supposed to come out back to back because I assumed I’d have time to write over the holiday break. As we all know now, that didn’t happen, like so many of my plans.

More importantly though, at this point I realized that Robin needed to start getting his shit together, fast.

A beat from Grima’s many wings carried them on the hot winds blowing off the fires below, covering several hours march in a fraction of the time.

This passage from the bad timeline is one of those sections I wrote nearly immediately since it just clicked. (The other significant passage is the final scene.) Honestly though, I was starting to have a hard time not repeating the same imagery and words over and over again. My grasp of English and vocabulary has never been anything to write home about, first language notwithstanding, and I literally had to pull out the thesaurus a few times in the later sections so I wouldn’t keep writing “scream” but completely forgot what other words existed. Linguistics amazes me, but it is so not my department.

Is it anger? Is it despair? Is it exhaustion, ascending to the Exalt’s throne alone, …

How to Tell I Wrote a Section by Hand Rather Than on My Computer: when the sentences get long and on this roll of phrase after phrase after phrase, that’s me with a pen. This whole section from Chrom was handwritten on my then-new iPad to test out some software.

By this point, I accepted that Chrom was just going to Be There and started working on his scenes to also try ramping up the tension in the fic by going backwards in his history to when the grief gets rawer and rawer. you wore out a path isn’t primarily about grief or depression, but some of those beats snuck in?

Chrom is a Mess™ at this point.

They dream feverishly.

What the fuck was this section.

“How am I supposed to keep this army and your father alive if you won’t tell me what happens? You’re one of our greatest sources of information and you refuse to share with anyone. Stop hiding.”

I hate! This dumb trope! Of not sharing info when traveling back in time! What’s the point of time traveling with the express purpose of changing history and then not! Changing history!

I have strong feelings.

By private captain, Robin means pirates. They must find pirates to board with.

This was entirely for my own amusement. There’s no other reason. Another key sign that my characters are getting a handle on their lives is that the writing starts getting snarkier.

Chapter Five

If by some future machination, the count increases to three out of three, he’s going to wholesale stop trusting magical mountains.

Case in point about the snark.

The master revived, the blood burning, the sacrifice slain, the master revived, the lORD, the FelL DRAGON, death, glory, the gOD and its vessel, returned, returned.

It turns out, messing with AO3’s formatting to have some font fun is a pain in the ass involving work skin shenanigans. The picture work skin already failed to do its job, I wasn’t going to wrestle with another skin just for this sentence. How it’s supposed to look:

A good two-third of this chapter just all came at once, in a sudden dash of productive writing. The muses are fickle that way.

Back on the point about how I Did Not Outline, there were a few items I wanted to reappear through the narrative. Elements from the fairy tales come back in this fight, for example. Another point I decided in the fourth chapter when writing the opening scene are the cathedrals. 

(Disclaimer: I’m not religious and thus don’t know the full symbolic significance in cathedrals. What I know can be distilled into: You Thought New York Construction Was Slow? and Very Pretty Because Very Important and Yes, The Organ is Behind You and Very Loud. Not a lot.)

“Why do you fight for Chrom?”

Robin getting interrogated on this point keeps coming up in my fics, but the scenes are always fantastic short bursts that are good at breaking up a section that’s been running too long.

Suddenly, Robin is quite literally on fire.

I already drew the picture. The boy’s on fire. There was a good explanation when I first thought this up, but then when it came time to writing the scene, I forgot why, and my outline didn’t have any notes. Bonds? Naga’s flame? Dramatically dissolving Grima’s marks from Robin’s body? All of the above?

“One last tale for the road,” Modron says to her son, …

Modron’s name. I’ve seen people taking cues from Morgan and going with Morgana, but I’m a contrary soul that always resists whatever fandom decides is a good idea. This works out well half the time.

Morgan and Morgana led my brain to the Arthurian legends, and I decided to see what some of those character’s mothers were called. Went to Wikipedia, clicked a bunch off links radiating from Morgan le Fay and somehow landed on Modron? She’s interesting. Nor did I know about the DnD Bill Cipher thing. 

Normally, though, I would not have started with a Welsh name. Some of the name choices for Plegian characters have vaguely Middle East origins (which is a completely different discussion about real world politics in that casting decision) and I would have started there.

I’m not a linguist though. Or someone that knows about naming conventions. So.

Now he stands grounded and as well rooted as the Mila Tree, the fire traded for a calm glow and Robin’s so grateful.

And this line here, this line here, is the sole reason I humored Chrom kicking his way into the story. This final scene was one of the first things I wrote after deciding to expand past the first chapter.

Look at these two dumb boys growing up.

In Conclusion

[staring at my file archives]

Have I ever actually finished a multi-chapter fic before?

[youhearstatic]

Sandworms and Other Concerns - Barry discovers that Lup's presence can improve any situation, including having his arm torn off by a fifty-foot-long, carnivorous, burrowing, acid-spitting, hook-toothed, pinstriped Sandworm. (By @tanger-catnip & @youhearstatic - Also on AO3.)

 Lup blinked. Once, then twice. At first, she didn't know what had woken her up. The ship was perfectly still, aside from the faint thrum of the bond engine that she'd learned how to tune out decades ago. The interior lighting that simulated a day-night cycle was dimmed as low as it went which meant it was still 'nighttime.'

After a moment, Lup realised what it was. The steady pattern of breathing that lulled her into sleep was coming at its normal pace. Barry was awake.

Lup braced herself with one arm and lifted her head. Her pale blue eyes shone like lanterns, a side effect of her darkvision.

It was all in shades of grey, but she could see the whole room. The dresser with its drawers left open, the closet door with the two sets of robes hanging from hooks, the bookcase stuffed full to bursting, and her bra on the floor next to a pair of durable denim jeans.

"Hey," Lup murmured, once her ethereal gaze settled on the object of her interest. She moved the arm slung over Barry's middle and reached up to touch his cheek.

Lup licked her lips. They were painfully dry, on the verge of cracking. Gods, she hated the desert. It had been picturesque for about ten minutes before the Starblaster crew had realised there was nothing else to this plane besides sand, sand, and more sand.

The hand on Barry's cheek moved to his shoulder, careful to not touch the joint where his arm should have been connected. Lup was trying her hardest not to stare. She knew he was self-conscious about it and she could only sympathise.

Being grievously injured early in a cycle was almost worse than death. The pain hurt almost as much as having to deal with the steep reduction of your abilities. In this case, Barry's had lost his whole right arm, making even routine tasks like eating and writing that much more difficult.

Sometimes, when Lup shut her eyes, she still saw flashes of that horrible moment when the cartilage in his shoulder gave out, and his skin tore open.

"I'm going to fucking kill that sandworm, slit it open, and take your arm back," Lup growled under her breath. "I don't care if it's mostly bones by now."

Barry shifted awkwardly. He was still not fully adjusted to leveraging his body with one less limb. After a low grunt of pain, he gave up the effort. With two arms he could have tilted himself towards Lup without disturbing the snuggling that much, but until he got a lot more used to things, everything would be a huge production.

"I'd rather your bones didn't join them," he said. He bent his head to where her hand rested on his shoulder, rubbed his cheek against her fingers. "Pretty sure your fireball made my... uh, made it taste charbroiled anyway."

Lup cracked half a grin and a short snicker. Then her eyes narrowed as she looked Barry over closely, searching for any signs of discomfort. Something had to have woken him up.

"Do you need more painkillers?" She asked.

Barry went quiet, his thoughts drifting back where they'd been before she woke. Ever since the dull ache turned to a persistent roar, he'd been considering the meds. Merle had reminded him he needed to stay ahead of the pain. 'If you let it get out of hand - ha! - it's hard to catch back up. Then I gotta blow another high-level spell keeping your ass upright,' the cleric had told him. Merle had already done a lot of patching up when the three of them returned from that disastrous scouting mission.

On the other hand - ugh - the meds made him muddle-headed, and he was already down a considerable amount of usefulness.

"No painkillers yet," he told her. "I can't think with them."

Lup frowned. "It's the middle of the night? Why do you need to think?"

Lup wasn't going to push him on it though. She had a feeling if the roles were reversed, she'd be just as stubborn about taking her medication. Not being fully present when they were counting down days till the apocalypse was a tough pill to swallow.

Barry focused on her, squinting to make out details on her face in the dark. "What about you? Are you doing okay?"

The sand worm's teeth had gotten him, but only after it's mate had been split open by Magnus's axe. Both Lup and Magnus were coated in its caustic blood. Mags's chest armour had taken the brunt of it, but they were both freckled in nasty-looking, coin-sized burns.

Lup sighed and moved to kiss him. His lips were dried out from the heat like her own, but she hardly noticed.

"I'm fine, Cuddle Muffin. I've burned myself worse making pancakes."

That wasn't strictly true, the pancake incident hadn't gotten her in places covered by clothing like the acid, but the overall coverage was similar.

Now that she'd confirmed everything was alright, or at least was how she'd left it, Lup dropped down and nestled back into her preferred spot under Barry's remaining arm. She hugged him tightly around his middle, unspeakably glad to have him around to hold. It'd been touch and go for a few terrifying seconds. If Magnus's grip had faltered, or her fireball had missed, the worm would've dragged Barry under and ripped him to shreds.

"I hate it when you do that. You've had your arm torn off and you're worried about me? Like, seriously?" Lup thought that she'd worked out all her feelings on this, but they kept coming back. "Just, let me take care of you for once, okay?"

"You do take care of me." Barry squeezed her gently. "All the time," he promised.

They went quiet for a moment. Barry listened to her breathing beside him. The feel of her arms around him helped take his mind off his right side.

"Did I ever tell you I broke my arm when I was a kid? Three places. Had one of those casts that makes you look like a kid's stick drawing with the arm jutting out straight. At least now I'm not banging it on stuff, I guess," he added with a huff of laughter. "I probably told you already, didn't I?" The passage of time since he lost his arm was hard to parse. He'd probably told her the same story three times.

Try as he might. Barry couldn't stop coming back to that sickening noise right after Magnus had grabbed him and before Lup had started screaming. Afterwards, Lup and Magnus had taken one look at him and gone completely pale.

Gods, that noise. Everything else was a blur, but that noise stayed in his head.

Barry was both tired but not, and the clarity felt worth holding on to. Being out of it was worse than anything. He'd woken up at one point and thought it was all a dream. His arm was fine, but he'd never been on the Starblaster. No Hunger, but no Lup. Maybe he hadn't woken up. He's not sure. He didn't like having his thoughts messed with.

"Sorry," he said with another light squeeze. "Go back to sleep."

Lup didn't want to sleep, she wanted to stay up and listen to him ramble about anything and everything. If it were possible, she'd wrap herself up in his voice like a warm fuzzy blanket.

But, it did sound a little scratchier than it should.

"Not yet. You should have something to drink," Lup decided.

Lup paused to snuggle into his side and hug him tightly. Making up for the moments she would be gone in advance.

Then she slipped out of bed. Taako and her could move like quicksilver when they wanted (old talents from travelling shows they'd worked) and the mattress barely moved to mark her departure. She went to the door and opened it just wide enough to slide through.

Lup wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, but it was late enough she doubted that anyone else would be up to spot her and give her shit for it.

Once in the kitchen, Lup found a heavy cast-iron kettle and filled it with water. She took a pass on the stove and held the kettle over her open palm as she summoned a handful of flame. The flames licked the pure black metal, heating the water to boiling in minutes.

Lup rested it on the stove and went to go find the herbal tea. Davenport kept a stash of chamomile and lemon for when his headaches got bad. She filled up an infuser with two spoonfuls of dry leaves and shoved it in the pot.

The only part of this process she couldn't rush though was the brewing. So Lup tapped her fingers on her thigh and started to count to 300 in her head.

She gave up around 240 and poured out the tea into a large mug with the phrase 'I make horrible chemistry puns, but only periodically' on the side. Next, she dumped in four teaspoons of sugar, stirred it up, and cast Ray of Frost to cool it down to just the right temperature.

Lup carried the mug in both hands, moving slower, so she didn't spill. She nudged open the door to what used to be Barry's room but was now their shared one. She placed the mug down on the bedside table and flitted up to the bed again. Settling with her legs on either side of his hips. She helped him sit up. Shifting positions stirred up the roar in Barry's arm or lack of an arm or wherever... but how could he complain with a naked elf beside him bearing warm tea?

Lup collected the mug and pressed it into his fingers but kept her grip on both the mug and his hand. The last thing Barry needed right now was to have hot water spilt all over his chest.

Barry couldn't have stopped the smile if he wanted to. Lup helped him with the mug, and he drank. It was sweet, the way he liked it, and the sugary warmth of tea and knowing she had put such care into preparing it pushed away some of that persistent tug of pain.

After a few sips, she sat back to look at him. Probably trying to figure out what else he needed, he realised.

"Hey," he told her. "Did I ever tell you..." he hesitated and went for a joke instead. "...that I broke my arm when I was a kid?"

He waited for a beat then smiles. "Kidding." He leans forward, tilting his neck so he can kiss her forehead.

Lup fell right into his trap. Silly of her, but she'd had her guard down. She laughed, high and soft like the rustle of wind chimes.

Barry sat back and continued, "I was going to say: did I ever tell you that you're better than pain meds?"

Lup shifted and tilted her head to one side. "You sure it's me and not my tits?" she asked with a grin. She moved her shoulders back, showing off her chest. There wasn't that much to show, but she was damn proud of them.

"I'm sure they're a contributing factor," Barry admitted, giving Lup the long, appreciative look she always deserved. "But I really did just mean how you take care of me."

Lup dropped the posture and nudged a little closer to him. "If I'm better, then I shouldn't leave your side until you get your arm back, right?" She smiled wolfishly and tapped him lightly on the tip of his nose. "I bet you'd get sick of me eventually. You're going to deny it, you huge sap, but 24/7 Lup for a whole year is a lot to handle, even Taako gets breaks."

Barry shook his head slowly, to not disturb his shoulder. "Sap that I am, I'll deny the impossible. I'll never get sick of you, of this, of us. I signed up for the long haul." He made a face. "Though currently, you'll have to trust me on the signature."

He ran his hand over her knee to her thigh. His thumb edged around one of the circular burns. "I'd like to threaten the cause of these, but it's already dead, and I'm not sure my left armed punching would pose much threat."

Lup bit down on her bottom lip. Like most burns, they were still hot to the touch, even ages after the incident. They would probably scar over. She might have cared about that before, but thanks to the regen cycle any change to her appearance, positive or negative, was only transitory.

"I guess I'm gonna have to work on offhand casting, huh?" Barry mused. "And offhand writing and eating and everything else."

"I'll practice with you," Lup offered. "Then you can't trick yourself into thinking you suck at it, because I'll suck with you, and we can add being ambidextrous to our list of kickass skills. Something tells me this'll not be the last time someone loses an arm."

"True," Barry agreed. "Probably should have worked on it before, huh?"

Lup shrugged and said. "Before? Later? Our timeline is so fucked up, does it even matter?"

Barry was lost in thought for a moment. "I bet Lucretia can cast with both hands equally." His eyebrows pulled together in concentration. "But she usually uses both together. I wonder if there's a left brain/right brain component to casting? Maybe I should try offhand with and without a wand, too. Maybe a wand would..."

Barry reached his left arm to scratch the opposite side then stopped. "Dammit. Phantom itching. I read cases of that but..." He dropped his hand to his lap. Lup wanted to try getting it for him as if she might have more luck

"Maybe Magnus can carve an arm for me," Barry thought out loud.

"Wood is kinda heavy, Blueberry. You'd might as well tape a stick to your arm... unless."

Lup grew quiet, taking her turn to get lost in thought.

"Never mind. We have plenty of time to sort shit out. If anyone can figure out how to jury-rig a prosthetic arm while stranded in a planet-sized desert, it's us."

Lup glanced around her, remembering where they were. "Crap, I should have helped you lay down already." She vacated his lap and helped him settle back down in bed, adjusting the pillows to compensate.

"Babe, do you ever feel like..." Lup trailed off and shook her head. Better not. He was injured and tired. "Do you want those painkillers now?"

Barry looked over at the medicine container and made a face. "I guess I'd better before it really gets going. Half dose maybe? I hate to waste them. Someone else might need them before this cycle is over."

He let her get the meds and the tea. He wanted to see how much he could do on his own, but then she'd just have to help him up and get him back settled in bed again. His balance was still tough to negotiate. He'd slipped and knocked the still raw joint yesterday and had no desire to experience that again.

It was bad enough just to look at. He was ready for the stage where he could pin up the sleeve and not have to see it so much. But Merle had recommended leaving everything but the sutures uncovered. They needed to keep a close eye out for blood poisoning or infection since they didn't have a lot of information on sandworms. The sum of what they had learned was: bites, has caustic blood, resistant to fire damage, and susceptible to axe.

Lup carefully shook out a pair of pills from the bottle. It had originally contained 500 capsules and was still about 3/4th full. She dropped the second pill back in anyway and placed the remaining one into the palm of Barry's hand.

She let him take it on his own, waiting till he had it in his mouth before pressing the mug to his lips. He swallowed, which was maybe more difficult since she had laid him down before giving him the pills, fantastic planning Lup, Bt-dubs.

She distracted herself by readjusting the bedding. She'd arranged a pillow to help support the right side of Barry's body. Lup edged it back into place and tucked the blanket over it.

"Hey," Barry said, patting the space on the bed beside him, "Come here and finish that thought you had before?"

Lup looked up then over to the spot where she probably should have been. She nodded and checked everything was fine one last time before rounding the bed and hopping up. She was too awake to lie down, so she crossed her legs and pulled his left arm into her lap. She played with his hand, rubbing his fingers with her thumbs and gingerly tugging on them before letting go.

Barry watched her. These sorts of moments were his favourite. Watching her close and quiet while she lined up thoughts to share with him. The way she touched him when she was distracted and the way it soothed them both.

"It's not important; you should be resting right now," Lup protested. Having her brain directly connected to her mouth was helpful for witty comebacks, but it did get her into more uncomfortable conversations than she would have liked. Particularly with Barry, who paid her such close attention that no offhand comment would escape his notice.

But she knew the more she denied telling him, the more interested he would get. It was too late to take it back now.

"Okay, fine. The other day I remembered something. Y'know when we were stargazing that time, and my head was on your tummy, and it made that funny gurgling nose? You turned all red, and then I said it sounded like you had eaten a dinosaur, and then I tickled you until you promise not to eat any more extinct creatures?"

It was funnier to think about than to say out loud, mostly because Lup could still picture the abject horror on Barry's face before he realised she found it funny.

"Oh, no, not the dinosaur," he said with a quiet chuckle. It's been years, and his face still went red thinking about that. But with Lup, he had learned about a kind of embarrassment he hadn't known existed. One that was sweet - fond even - because it was something shared. Embarrassment probably wasn't the right word for it, though. Or maybe it was the right word, and the one he'd felt before was ashamed.

"Ha, yeah. But uh, that doesn't matter," Lup continued. "It's just I had that pinned in year 43, but like, two hours later I realised that it couldn't be because Legato was 47. The more I think about it, the more I see that I have no idea what order a lot of my favorite shit actually happened in."

Lup sighed and stopped fidgeting with his hand, settling for just holding it.

"Fifteen years... that's how long we've been, right? This is sixteen? It either feels like a few months or an eternity. Never like a decade and a half."

Barry squeezed his fingers around the hand beneath his. "I know what you mean. There have been a few times I've thought about asking Lucretia to figure out when something happened, but I never do. But, I sort of like that so many, uh, so many of my favourite memories aren't moments in the timeline anymore."

Barry hesitated a moment, considering his words. "They're, uh, like books I've reread so many times that I can't remember not knowing the story." He felt his cheeks going red again, knew he was being sappy but pushed on. "I just know how they make me feel," he finished, squeezing her hand again.

He rubbed his thumb along the edge of her palm. "But then, I don't know about elf lives. For a human, though, I've lost all perspective on time."

"See, that's the thing! This shouldn't be that long for me, right? But I don't... I didn't have this much stuff I wanted to hold onto before," Lup admitted. "Taako and I had our moments, obviously, but there was so much bad mixed in with the good, it was easier to just let it all go. Taako would still be there when I woke up the next day, and he was the only thing worth holding on to, so I didn't think it mattered... But, BJ, like about age 100 to 175? All of that is just a blur. I couldn't tell you anything about that if I tried. We were kids, then we were in college, then the institute, then this..."

Lup brought Barry's hand up to her face and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.

"I tried to talk to Taako about it, but I think he'd still operating on the level I used to. He's letting it wash over him, and I'm just down here trying to catch water with my hands, and I..."

Lup shook her head. She bit down very softly on the side of Barry's pointer finger. Honestly forgetting that it was his hand and not hers as she tried to sift through her thoughts.

"If we were on normal time, you'd be... It would be half over by now. I don't have enough memories of us for it to be half over."

Lup looked down and noticed the faint pink mark her fangs left on Barry's finger. "Aw, fuck. Sorry babe. You know I get bitey when I'm anxious, but you've had more than enough teeth for one cycle."

Barry laughed. "Lup, if having your teeth on me was a problem it would have come up before now."

"-And I could never have enough memories of us. I mean, I don't want us running forever but..." It was impossible to think of what it might be like when time found them again.

"I know what you mean about trying to catch it all," he said, switching back to the other part of her topic. "Does Taako not...?" Barry stopped and considered the thought. "I really hate thinking of him... not having moments he wants to hold onto."

The more Barry thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. He suddenly wanted to go pull Taako out of bed and drag him out to the deck, get him to make up obscene constellations or work on a convoluted prank to pull on Magnus. But you can't force those moments. Like this one, even in the middle of living it, he already knew it was a favourite. Spun out of nothing but being awake at the same late-early hour.

It reminded him of how lucky he was. He'd woken up in pain, struggling with back and forth thoughts of how it should be dealt with. But even without medicine in his system yet, the pain was background noise for how grateful and lucky he felt to be with her.

"I'm glad you have more good memories than you can hold onto," he whispered. Dammit, he wanted to wrap her in his arms. "Miniature hug," he told her and closed his fingers around her wrist. He rubbed his thumb over her skin the way he'd rub his hands on her back.

Lup snickered and repeated "Miniature hug!" she took his remaining wrist in her hand and returned the squeeze. Then because she could, Lup flopped down, cuddled up to him, and tucked his arm around her hips like it was a blanket.

She groaned, just from the pure comfort of it all. She'd rather not have the actual blankets over her because of her acid burns, but Barry was better anyway.

"This is all your fault, you know," She muttered. "Before, I didn't know what I was missing. I thought I had everything I needed. Now I'm pissed the fuck off because some shitty worm deprived me of 5.3 percent of you."

"I'll accept that blame," Barry answered fondly.

Lup tucked beside him was wonderful. He'd never known anyone could be almost frustrated with an overabundance of contentment. But then, it wasn't something many people got to experience often, he thought.

He thought of them stargazing and his stomach interrupting the moment.

"But," he said and tapped his palm on her hip gently. "It's the worm's fault I'm half as handy. But now the worm can join the army. I don't have anything up my sleeve... Uh, there's probably something with 'will I ever play the piano again' but I'm blanking. I'd give my right arm to stop thinking of these," he finished apologetically.

Lup groaned, not out of contentment this time.

She held up a finger and pressed it to his lips. At first, it seemed like she wanted him to shut it, but then she proved that she'd only been buying herself more time to think.

"I think these puns are verging on self-harm. It might even be a cause for alarm. I'd hate to see you fall into an armpit of despair. If you don't stop soon, it could cost you an arm and a leg. Trying to avoid this is going to take some elbow grease."

Lup took a deep pull of breath and looked him dead in the eyes. "How does karma taste, cyan pants."

"Okay, you win, you win," he told her. "I'm glad you're on my side because you know Magnus and Merle will try to outdo themselves with those for the rest of the year."

Lup kissed him hard on the lips, then pulled back to whisper, "love you, you massive dork."

Barry decided that If karma tasted like Lup's kiss, he'd accept whatever it had in store.

He waited for her to settle back in place and tightened his arm around her. "I love you, Lup. You're the best, hands down."

Lup flinched. Anyone else in the multiverse and she would have come firing back, pun-guns blazing, but for Barry, she could let him have the last laugh.

She closed her eyes, hoping that if she pretended to sleep, he would join her.