#Like damn... That guy was a lot more integral to my later childhood than I thought huh

[bluejaypirate]

[violetwolfraven]

41 for javid would work so perfectly ahfkfjxhsga and/or 34, whichever one u want 🥺🥺🥺

I was scared to come out and ask you out because I didn’t know our entire friend group was gay but I definitely know now???

and

We broke up but I found the letters you wrote me before that and I still love you so wanna get back together? (did I copy this from one specific fic I read? Possibly.)

Ok! Buckle in your seatbelts, y’all! This is gonna be a MASSIVELY LONG THING! Also @61-flaming-sour-cherry-scones I love your url. Just getting that out there. Modern AU, btw. Also does this end in December, 2019, conveniently avoiding COVID? Possibly! :)

...

Jack didn’t mean to find that box, but in his defense, it was not hidden well. Just in the back of his closet, which he hadn’t cleaned out since... damn. Since the breakup.

And Jack was fine with said breakup, by the way. Him and Davey weren’t right together anymore.

And Jack didn’t smile less, or work himself harder as a distraction, or whatever bullshit his brothers, mom, and all his friends said.

If Davey never texted first anymore, or barely even talked when friends asked him to hang out or whatever, that was none of Jack’s business.

Jack had texted Davey exactly once since the breakup, because Elmer had told him that he had an anxiety attack in a bar, which he was only there in the first place because he was designated driver.

Davey had said he was fine, and that meant he was, right?

Davey had not mentioned anything about leaving a shoebox in Jack’s closet. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t mentioned it, ever.

Did it sting that Jack’s ex had kept a secret box of... something? from him? Maybe. Whatever the case, Jack was curious by nature, and he was definitely opening the box.

It was... letters? Sealed letters in envelopes, the earliest one on the very top, in one corner of the box. The only thing written on it was a date; September 7th, 2011.

That would be... 8th grade? Probably the first day of school? Jack was super confused. Still, he opened the letter.

Dear Jack Kelly,

I know this is terrible and corny and I’m probably going to shred this letter with the pocket knife Sarah got for our last birthday, but I had to write it down somewhere.

I think I’m gay. Specifically, gay for you. And I know that’s weird, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re like the living personification of the moon. (Not the sun. I’ve never understood why people compare their crush to the sun. Nobody likes looking directly at that.) You saw me sitting alone before school and you took me in. I mean it. You brought me over to your friend group and said I was a new kid who was going to be your friend now, and the whole group just adopted me without questioning it. All of you are so nice. At first I thought it was a trick, but then I saw you comforting Blink when he had a panic attack. (Also, I’m still getting used to the nickname thing. That’s still weird and I’m not sure how I feel about the one you gave me.) You were so gentle with him, Jack. You knew exactly how to calm him down and you were so patient with him while you helped Mush drive the fear away. I didn’t think boys our age knew how to be like that. I do now, because of you. Well, and because of Race being, well, Race. I don’t think anyone could mistake him for a bully. Or Crutchie. Or Romeo. Heck, most of your group is just so nice I can barely believe it. I think I’ll bring Saz to meet you tomorrow. She already made a friend, but she said that this girl, Katherine, said she already knows you. Maybe we can all be friends.

I really wish we could be more, but I know that would never work. I can’t tell anyone I’m gay. You’d think I’m a freak. But since you’ll never read this, I can admit it here: I have a massive crush on you, Jack Kelly.

Sincerely, David Davey

Jack was not going to let himself cry about a letter written in 8th fucking grade. He was, however, very confused about why it was in his closet.

A letter from before Davey was out of the closet found in the closet. If Jack wasn’t so goddamn depressed, he would appreciate the irony.

The next letter was dated: September 24th, 2011.

Dear Jack,

We’re all friends now. Gotta say, I already can’t imagine my life without you and the other guys. And maybe I didn’t meet Kath that first day, but she’s probably my best friend, besides you, of course. She’s the only other one with brain cells, besides maybe Specs. Us three had to talk you and the others out of riding a shopping cart Albert stole from Walmart down a hill yesterday. Honestly, would it kill you to be a little smarter? I know for a fact you can be, Jack Kelly. You and the others actually have a fair amount of brain cells each when apart. It’s only when the only group gets together that you all do stupid stuff.

I didn’t shred the first letter. I think maybe I’ll keep these and we can look back someday and laugh about me having a crush on you in middle school. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way to get over it before it ruins our friendship.

I honestly don’t see how I’d survive losing you, Jack. So, please, do me a favor and keep being oblivious to how I really feel about you until I digest those butterflies you give me.

Sincerely, Davey

Damn. Reading that was like a punch to the chest and Jack had to take a deep breath before moving on to the next letter.

The next few were just mundane stuff. Little notes on how Jack laughed or interacted with certain friends or whatever. The way he painted each friend something little for the holidays and how they all had a picnic potluck for Thanksgiving.

Then he got to one that was different: January 22nd, 2012. It was written in a panicked, hurried script.

Oh, damn. Jack remembered what this was about. What happened January of 8th grade.

Dear Jack,

Something’s wrong. You’re on my couch right now, crying. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re trying to put on a brave face for Les and failing miserably. Medda didn’t have time to say much when she dropped you, Crutchie, Race, and Romeo off, so all I really know is that Blink is in the hospital and she’s gonna pick up Mush before going to see him. Crutchie is trying to comfort you, by the way, but he’s crying nearly as much as you are. Race and Ro are in shock, I think. They haven’t said much. Sarah’s making them hot cocoa. I’m in my room, writing this really quick because I don’t know what I can do. You’re so good at comforting people, but I don’t know how. I wish I knew how you did it. I think I’ll go try one of the things I’ve seen you do with panic attacks. It’s got to be better than nothing.

The rest was calmer, clearly written later.

It turns out Blink is in the hospital because his dad put him there. And he wouldn’t be alive at all if he didn’t call Mush in a panic right when he heard him get home. Mush called the cops and they barely got there in time. Blink was already half-dead when they did, but they managed to keep him alive long enough to get an ambulance. God, I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if they’d been just a little bit slower.

Medda called you a couple hours ago to let us all know that Blink is in bad shape, but he’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna try to file for custody of him, but Mush’s mom is gonna try, too, just to give him twice as much chance of staying with us. His dad is in jail, but you and me agree that he deserves to die for what he did. In the selfie Blink made Mush send the group chat, there was more bandage visible on his face than skin. It made me so damn angry, but I didn’t show it because you were so angry you almost punched a hole in my wall.

I’ve made a decision, Jack. I can’t be separate from the group anymore. I always hang with Kath off to the side where we can intervene as the voices of reason if needed, but I’m not going to do that anymore, because I. can. not. do this again. I want our friends to trust me like they trust you so maybe if one of them is in a house with a dad that would beat them within an inch of their life, they’ll tell me and I can get them out.

I guess that means I’ll have to get better at lying. I’ve been staying separate mostly to hide my crush. And I think I’m pretty good at that, but being right at the center of things, with you? I’ll have to be careful to make sure no one notices. Especially not you. I hope I can pull it off.

You definitely aren’t making it easy on me, are you? You’re passed out in my bed, for heaven’s sake. But it’s fine. This is fine. I’m fine.

Sincerely, Davey

Jack remembered that night as one of the worst of his life. He’d thought Blink was dead by how Mush sounded when he called. And even though it turned out he wasn’t, he was going to be okay even if he lost an eye, after Jack’s childhood, he’d always hated when he couldn’t protect the people he loved.

Davey had been the one to reach him in that bad place he fell back to, the one where people he loved, kids he considered his little brothers, were getting hurt. Davey had pulled him out of there, and though it would take Jack months to realize it, that was the day he started to fall in love with him.

The next Monday, though, Jack had tried to give him space. Knowing how intimidating it all had to seem, he wasn’t sure if Davey would bail on them.

But he didn’t. Jack had never stopped appreciating how Davey had seen the darkness under the innocent, normal friendship and stayed anyway.

The next few letters were mostly a lot of pining on Davey’s side as he struggled to integrate himself more deeply into the group.

Jack still remembered that shift, how once Davey earned the others’ trust, Jack had gone from being the only one everyone was relying on to half of a pair that a lot of their friends had jokingly called ‘mom and dad.’

It was kind of sad, knowing that for most of them, Jack and Davey gave them more love and attention than their actual parents did, but the two of them would have to do—and they had. For a long time, the two of them were an unstoppable duo of hugs and snacks and homework help.

The letter from June 15th, 2012, had weird spots on it, almost like... almost like tear-marks. It was shorter than the previous ones.

Dear Jack,

Saz just came bouncing into my room to announce that she’s going with you to the Eighth Grade Dance.

I don’t know why I’m sad about it. I knew you and me would never be a thing.

But it still hurts, Jackie. It hurts so much.

I’m going with the rest of the group, just as friends. No one has dates except you, and I think maybe Romeo.

Jack knew for a fact that Blink and Mush had gone together because he remembered accidentally walking in on their first kiss, but apparently, Davey hadn’t known that.

Les is knocking on my door, so I’m gonna have to drop my math textbook on the floor really loudly so I can tell him I’m crying because I fell.

Sincerely, Davey

There wasn’t another letter until 4 months later, Octobe 16th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

So. Something weird just happened. Saz just came into my room and said she’s not going with you to Homecoming because you’re going with Kath. I tried to comfort her, but she didn’t seem sad about it?

She asked me if I wanted to go with anyone and seemed surprised I said I didn’t. (Not like I’m telling her a part of me wishes I could go with you.) Then she mentioned that Blink and Mush are going together, and I don’t see why she cares because if you don’t have a date why not go with a friend, right? Why do girls have to be so confusing?

Sincerely, Davey

Oh. Oh, God.

By the beginning of freshman year, Blink and Mush hadn’t been the only gay couple in their friend group.

Albert and Finch had gotten together over the summer, and so had Smalls and Sniper.

Romeo and Specs were in the ‘flirting terribly’ phase, and though Jack didn’t know it at the time, Race was already sneaking around with Spot by that point.

Ike had asked Hotshot to that Homecoming, though they wouldn’t officially become boyfriends until almost a year later, Buttons and Elmer became official at that dance, and Jojo and Mike had that falling out because of misread signals towards the end of it.

Hell, Jack only went to that dance with Kath because she couldn’t let her parents know she was actually going with Saz.

Homecoming freshman year was... eventful, to say the least.

And Davey had known exactly none of this. That... explained a lot.

Being only freshmen, none of the couples were exactly casual in their relationships. They didn’t kiss in front of people, and a few were too embarrassed to so much as sit next to each other at lunch. With the ones who weren’t embarrassed, it still honestly wasn’t much more than the affection they all already showed among friends.

God, if Jack had known how scared Davey was to come out, as he said in the next few letters, he would have... what? Told him he loved him right then and there? Probably not, but he would have done something differently.

The next really significant letter was dated December 11th 12th, 2012.

Dear Jack,

I have no idea what to think.

I’m in the bathroom right now, and it’s just after midnight on 12/12/12. You and your brothers threw a party in case the world ended with the whole friend group. It was kind of like a New Year’s party, but with a lot more cynical talk about the coming apocalypse and bet placing on what said apocalypse would be. Towards the end, we all got caught up in the drama and sleep-deprivation and started giving speeches about how much we loved each other. It was cringy, but in a good way? I’m sure we’ll laugh about it someday.

Or maybe we won’t. Because I have no idea what to think anymore.

Oh, shit. This was the part Jack was kind of dreading reading.

I’ve been terrified to come out because I thought I’d get kicked out of the group if you guys knew I was gay.

Which was why it was such a shock when the countdown to midnight ended and half my friends kissed friends of the same gender.

Jack remembered yelling at them to break it up. He’d been so busy being exasperated with his kids that he hadn’t even noticed Davey had slipped away until Crutchie pointed it out.

It was quick, so I don’t think I could name all the pairs if I tried, but I definitely saw Sarah kiss Kath, which, honestly, explains a lot.

I can’t help but wonder... Why didn’t anyone tell me? How long has this been going on? Has it been since the beginning and I was just too oblivious to see it?

Oh my God. Now that I’m looking for it, I can’t stop seeing it. The way Blink is defensive and angry all the time and he’s soft for Mush. The way Sarah hates spending time on her hair and she’ll sit for hours letting Kath try out styles on her. The way Buttons and Elmer just do little things for each other every day. None of them are subtle and I am an idiot.

Jack had to laugh at that.

Does this mean I should come out, too? I know now no one would judge me for it, but... I don’t want to mess things up. I love our friends, and I don’t want to lose them. If I lost them, now, it would be because I like you, specifically. Would you be disgusted with me if I told you?

“No,” Jack whispered, before remembering that this was 14-year-old Davey, and he wasn’t here.

I like to think you wouldn’t be, but I can’t risk it. If I lose you, I lose all of them. And if I have doubts about if I could live through losing you, I definitely can’t survive losing everyone. I love them all so much. I love you.

Jack sucked in a breath. As far as he knew, this was the first time Davey had ever said anywhere that he loved Jack.

But I can’t tell you that. So if I come out, it definitely won’t be by saying who I like.

Love, Davey

Jack totally wasn’t crying as he reached for the next letter. It was just current events, random stuff. There were certainly a lot of letters, weren’t there? Davey had documented everything, from Jack attempting to teach him to draw, to the time they both auditioned for the school play, to that time they had to talk Jojo off a ledge when he realized he loved Mike. That one was short but bad. (Honestly, Jack still hated Jojo’s super religious parents for that. Fuck Jojo’s parents.)

Davey did come out in a letter from almost six months later, but it wasn’t until Homecoming sophomore year that things started getting really interesting.

Dear Jack,

I honestly might never talk to you again outside these letters. Sarah’s banging on my door telling me to, and I’m quoting her here, “open the fuck up, David Jacobs.” Mom’s yelling back at her to watch her language. They’re now having a screamed bitching match in the hallway.

Long story short, we were at Homecoming and you asked me to dance. My brain kind of short-circuited, but I said yes right as a slow song came on. Shockingly, you didn’t seem to mind, and you danced with me to Photograph by Ed Sheeran.

Oh, God, Jack remembered that song. It had been their song. He still couldn’t listen to it anymore.

You were singing along to it and smiling at me. It was really sweet, and it was kind of my dream, to be honest, and I guess I lost all control of my body for a second because I kissed you during the last chorus and I didn’t stop kissing you until the end of the song.

Jack remembered that like it was yesterday, because it was their first kiss. It was a million perfect colors exploding across Jack’s brain and feelings he could barely identify swirling into a moment more beautiful than any painting he could ever create.

Then a faster song came on and I don’t know if anyone saw, but I really hope they didn’t because if they did that means they saw what happened next. Which is: I ran away. I ran all the way to my car and drove home and locked myself in my room. Sarah came home not 5 minutes later, so I think she knows, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t know how I can face you after this. In hindsight I think you were kissing me back, and if you were that means I just ran out on you and it probably hurt when I did. If not, that’s even worse because I kissed you and you probably just didn’t pull away out of pity.

Holy shit, I think you’re here, now. I can hear you outside my door with Saz, and maybe Kath, too. She’s trying to calm her down, which, honestly, good luck, Kath. Wait. No. Shit. I guess being her girlfriend has its benefits. It’s just you, now. You’re talking really softly, but I can’t understand you through the door. This is why we enunciate, Jackie.

Jack rolled his eyes on reflex.

I’m still pretty scared, but I think I’m gonna open the door. Scratch that, I’m definitely gonna open it. If you yell at me, I’ll probably yell right back. Funny, isn’t it? How I never would have done that before meeting you? If we have a huge fight, remember that you’re the one who taught me not to censor myself. David never would have even opened that door, but Davey is your monster. Good luck. I’ve out-argued you before, Jackie, so you’ll need it.

I should stop stalling and open the damn door.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Love, Davey

Reading that last sentance, Jack froze.

If you break my heart, Jack Kelly, I’m going to kill you.

Time was a bitch, because by all accounts, they were both broken-hearted, now.

Jack wiped away his tears and realized there was a little bit more writing.

P.S. I guess you get to live, Jackie, because we had a talk and you kissed me again and now we’re together. Like, boyfriends. I can’t stop smiling. It’s stupid. I’m probably not going to sleep tonight and it’s all your fault because my stomach is full of butterflies and I can’t stop thinking about how much I love you.

Jack didn’t let himself process that, going for the next letter instead.

Oh, shit. November 1st, 2013. This was going to be a bad one. Still, Jack took a deep breath and started reading.

Dear Jack,

Well, today was emotionally draining. (Halloween was fun, but what came after definitely is not.) It’s already past midnight, but it’s okay because I’m sleeping over at your house tonight. After Saz and I explained the situation, Mom and Dad agreed we should. God, said situation it makes me so angry.

Katherine’s parents kicked her out. They found out about her and Sarah, made her pack a bag, and tossed her away like she was nothing.

She’s 16. She’s a goddamn child like the rest of us. How could they do that to her? I guess it’s good she’s out of that environment, where she has to hide who she is and walk on eggshells with every conversation, but she’s on your couch right now, crying so hard she can’t even drink the tea Medda made her. Sarah and you are trying to calm her down, but I hate seeing her like this. Kath always seems kind of unshakable, like nothing anyone says will get to her. I’ve never seen her this broken. Judging by the look you’re giving me from across the room, you haven’t, either.

You think I’m making a grocery list. Medda told me to, seeing as how she’s busy helping clean out your guest room, Saz is on ‘shoulder to cry on’ duty, and I’m the only boy who lives with a girl. Kath didn’t get to pack much more than a couple of outfits and her toothbrush.

You know what? Fuck it. You and me are her parents, now. You’re good with that, right? We’re already stand-in Mom and Dad for several of our friends—what’s one more? Ha ha, you and me have so much practice already that we are going to be great parents for real one day.

Jack sucked in a breath. Real parents? As in, the two of them staying together long enough to have kids?

Wow. That is wildly inappropriate to think about when we’re literally a couple of 15-year-olds. Also, it makes me think about how Kath is technically a few months older, but whatever. I guess I should actually make that grocery list, now, and stop daydreaming about a hypothetical future while one of our kids now is sobbing across the room from me.

Love, Davey

Davey had never even told Jack he wanted kids.

Sure, they were both a little young for that, but in the future..? Jack had always been scared that he wouldn’t be a good dad, after never having a good dad, himself, but sophomore year Davey was right. He had gotten a fair amount of practice with his friends.

That night, when Kath showed up at the Larkin house, crying so hysterically the makeup from her Halloween costume was running and saying she didn’t know where else to go, Davey was the first person Jack called. Him and Sarah had shown up not fifteen minutes later, probably having been lucky not to pick up a speeding ticket (or you know, gotten arrested for underage driving without an adult) on the way.

15-year-old Davey was right. That night was the most broken Jack had ever seen Katherine. Even if it had worked out okay in the end, with Kath staying with them and being their new sister in every way but on paper, Jack still kind of wanted to throat-punch her parents.

It was... oddly comforting, to know that Davey felt the same. He hadn’t shown it back then, knowing Kath needed him calm, but... to be honest, Jack would have feared an angry Davey Jacobs more than an angry Jack Kelly. You’d get punched by an angry Jack, but an angry Davey? He was smart enough to burn down your world. Jack smirked, thinking about how lucky the Pulitzers were that Davey possessed impulse control.

Most of the rest of the letters were just Davey talking about their relationship as it evolved or recounting whatever drama happened to be going on, (with one in the middle of junior year that was basically just ‘wtf Race is secretly dating Spot Conlon???’) because as the only group of out gays in the school, a few of whom happened to be in not-so-good homes, there was always drama.

Then came the stress of senior year, SATs, and college applications. Davey and Jack had a few fights, which were all well documented here. 17-year-old Jack and Davey hadn’t known that those fights were the beginning of the end.

The letter dated June 5th, 2016 was the one that finally made Jack cry for real .

Dear Jack,

We’re fighting again. We have before, but this time, it’s actually serious.

I get that you’re going to school in Santa Fe and I’m staying in New York. What—did you expect me to follow you all the way across the country? I’m not asking you to stay, because that wouldn’t be fair of me. You’ve got dreams and a scholarship to an art school and that is great. I’m happy for you. But I’m not going with you, because why would I? I’ve got dreams, too. Did you think I would put my life on hold for you?

We can’t stay kids forever, Jackie. Growing up means things change. I thought you knew that. Our friends are spreading out across the country and most of the couples aren’t going to be in the same state. Hell, Specs is going to Harvard in Massachusetts and Romeo is moving to Hollywood to go try his luck and they’re not having problems. If your own brother can do the long-distance thing, why can’t you?

I’m scared, too. I don’t want to lose you, either. I know doing a long-distance thing won’t be easy, but when was the last time either of us gave up just because it was hard? Jackie, if I wanted something easy, I would have bailed after we almost lost Blink. My love for you aside, I didn’t because that’s. not. me. I fight for what I love. And I know you do, too, so... so fight for me. I need to know you love me enough to fight for me, Jackie.

I know you. When you want something—really want it, there is not a force in this world that can stop you from fighting for it. I love you, Jack Kelly. I’m not going to stop fighting for you, so please don’t stop fighting for me.

Love, Davey

Jack choked on a sob. He’d failed. Davey had asked him to fight for him and he failed.

Sure, he hadn’t known that Davey wanted him to fight for him, but... God, if he had...

Jack would have fought, would have walked through hell, would have done anything to keep Davey by his side.

He still loved Davey, no matter what he’d been telling himself since the breakup, and... And he needed to read the rest of these letters. Even if Davey started hating him when the fighting got really bad or wrote about what he was feeling during it.

Shit. There weren’t that many more. The remaining letters were spread out somewhere between high school graduation and when Jack and Davey broke up; a year and a half ago, and... and those would probably be the hardest ones to read

Jack waited a bit until the tears had stopped before opening the one from November 20th, 2016.

Dear Jack,

I haven’t wrote one of these in a while. College has been a bitch, but also...

You and me barely talk anymore. We text each other memes about once a week, (don’t worry. you still know exactly how to make me laugh with those dumb little shitposts.) but we don’t really talk. I can’t remember the last time we FaceTimed. I miss you, but I don’t know how to say it anymore.

I’m thinking about this because it’s Thanksgiving break. Of course, it’s good to see everyone. Kath got home this morning. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed her. Elmer texted me a couple minutes ago that he’s an hour away. Of course that dumbass is driving all the way from Michigan. I’m sure we’ll both have more than enough words for him when you get back because you’re flying in tonight.

I don’t know how I feel about that. I should be excited, but... I don’t think I’ve been this nervous about anything involving you since I ran away after our first kiss. I think I preferred it last year, when we were fighting, because even when we were pissed at each other, at least we were communicating.

You remember when we were kids and you always knew exactly what to say exactly when someone needed to hear it? How you helped calm down Kath when she got kicked out, talked Jojo off a roof, and convinced Spot to tell Race he loved him? It was amazing. I never quite mastered that. I usually know what to do, just never how to voice it. But this time, I don’t even know what to do. We’re not on the same page anymore. I don’t think we’re even in the same book.

Jack took a shaky breath. He and Davey hadn’t been on the same page. And Jack definitely hadn’t known what to say to him, either. They weren’t the unstoppable duo they’d been in high school.

But... damn. Those things Davey had mentioned him doing? He couldn’t have done those alone. For all of those, he had needed Davey there, helping him. Maybe that was why it was so hard, being there for anyone since the breakup.

I hate how five years of being an unstoppable duo can be undone in only four months, and it wasn’t even by fighting. If it was a fight, we could solve it, you and me vs. the problem. But there’s no fight, no problem. It’s just you and me and the growing chasm between us.

You know what? It’s probably just the distance messing with us. We’ll be fine. We just need some time together. Thanksgiving will be good for us. And I’m flying out to Santa Fe for the winter holidays to spend it with you, so that’ll be good, too.

I’m gonna text you right now. Your flight probably won’t be leaving for another hour or so, so we can talk. Get back in rhythm.

I still don’t know what to say. I guess I’ll just ask about how hot Santa Fe is in winter and we can go from there. Here’s hoping this makes things get less awkward.

Love, Davey

Jack remembered that text conversation with Davey in the airport. He remembered how much hope it had given him, and how after Jack went back to Santa Fe when the holiday was over, how much better Davey and him had been. That Christmas/Hanukkah had been great, especially considering most of Jack’s classmates were at home and they’d had the dorm to themselves.

Of course their friends and families had known that was why Jack didn’t come home that year, and he distinctly remembered getting texts from all three of his brothers on Christmas morning asking if Davey was good in bed, but that was besides the point.

The next several letters were from their second wind, the rest of the school year. And yeah, they were hard to read, but they brought back happy memories. Even only seeing each other over breaks and computer screens, it seemed that Davey was happy, too. For a while, it had seemed that Jack could have his dreams of art school in Santa Fe and the love of his life.

Then, of course, during that summer of staying together at whichever house more often than not, they started fighting again. Over nothing. Over stupid things. Over who loaded the dishwasher wrong and who said he was going to pick Les up from his friend’s house.

Then they started fighting over big things. Over harsh words Jack never meant and judging by these letters, Davey didn’t meant, either.

August 2nd, 2017:

Dear Jack,

I fucked up. We just had a big fight, I said a bunch of things I didn’t mean, and like an idiot, I let you leave for the airport without apologizing. Now, you’re acting like your phone is already on airplane mode even though I know for a fact your flight doesn’t leave for another hour. Also, I can see that you’ve read all of my texts, you moron, so I know you’re just ignoring me.

Aw, hell, I don’t even blame you. I said some really bad things. I said you love your art more than me, and I know that’s not true. I know you’d never prioritize material things over the people you love, because Jackie, you prioritize those people who have earned your loyalty over everything, including your own mental and physical health. I know because it annoys the hell out of me, how you never give yourself a break. They’re all adults now, Jackie. They don’t need us as much anymore and you never stop acting like they do.

I shouldn’t be angry with you for that. I know with your childhood, trying to protect Crutchie, Race, and Romeo and sometimes failing, you still feel like you have to save everyone. It’s how you’re wired and I love that about you. I wouldn’t change it if I could. I just wish you’d stop running yourself into the ground to do it.

Is this it? I already feel like we’re on borrowed time, here. Sarah says she thought we were going to break up last year. Kath says she’s sure it’s not that bad. (they’re talking about it very loudly in the hallway. or maybe they’re arguing. who knows?) Les just said that my mom said nobody marries their high school sweetheart. (thanks, Mom.)

I think even if we never said it, that’s what we were both hoping for. I know you, Jackie. I’ve watched your favorite romcoms and Disney movies. I know you want the perfect fairytale relationship with the whole package of ‘and they get married and have kids and live happily ever after.’ And I want that, too. I really wanted it with you. Ugh! I still want it with you! I can’t imagine any alternate universe where I don’t want that with you!

It’s probably inappropriate to think about all that. We’re nineteen. We’re not even old enough to drink yet and we’re definitely too young for me to be thinking about marrying you.

Jack inhaled sharply. Oh, God. He was going to cry again.

But for the record... I do want to. I want everything with you and I cannot imagine any circumstance, any extreme, any bad breakup where I stop wanting that.

Just to be safe, though, in case something I can’t foresee happens and I never say it again...

I love you, Jack Kelly. I have loved you from the first day I met you and I can’t see anything happening in any version of reality that makes me stop loving you. You’re still like the living personification of the moon to me and no matter how much you piss me off, Jackie, your glow doesn’t fade. You shined a light on the parts of me afraid of judgement and taught me to shine, too, despite them.

I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I probably never will. I just need you to know that.

Love, Davey

Jack was already crying, but he panicked as he realized there was only two more letters.

A part of him wanted to wait. These were words Davey hadn’t spoken to him. These were the last pieces of Davey that were still Jack’s.

But he needed to know. Were these letters from before they actually broke up? After? Had Davey been wrong in the previous letter and he’d stoped loving Jack?

There were no dates on the envelopes. Still, Jack had to know. He took a deep breath and opened the second-to-last one, the paper covered in old, dried tear marks.

Dear Jack,

We had another stupid fight and we tried to fix it but that just ended in more yelling. That’s happened a few times before, now, but this time, it was different.

Oh, no. This must be from the big one Spring Break of their sophomore year of college.

Jack had come home for the break, it had been great to see his friends, but then he and Davey had started fighting. Like, really fighting. Worse than they ever had before.

And then there was the big one. It was two days before Jack flew back to Santa Fe. It was the one where they actually broke up.

This time, you told me to leave. And I kind of yelled at you to just go back to Santa Fe as you shoved me out the door. Then you yelled that if I wanted you to fly away so badly, I shouldn’t bother visiting again and you slammed the door in my face.

I think we just broke up. I’d be angry about it if I wasn’t so damn sad.

God, this is messed up. I know you’re alone on your bed with those stupid Star Wars sheets you’ve had since you were twelve and you locked the door because you don’t want anyone to see you cry. Thinking about that makes me want to run right back there and say I’m sorry.

I wanted to do that the second I got back to my parents’ house, but they convinced me not to. Sarah yelled at them for it. She said I had to make my own decision. They said I’m too emotional to think clearly. They’re right, of course, which is why I’m here writing this and not on my way back to your mom’s house already.

Now, Les is the only one outside my door. Are Crutchie, Race, Romeo, or Kath outside yours? Les is trying to guilt me into opening the door by telling me he cancelled a date for me. I’m not weirded out at all by the fact that my baby brother has way more game than I did when I was fourteen.

Are we really done, Jackie? For good? I keep waiting to hear you out in the hallway. And probably Kath, because she’s a better driver than you. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’m just gonna to go to sleep.

Davey

Jack wiped his eyes furiously. There was one more letter and he needed to read it, consequences be damned.

This last letter was probably from when Davey cooled down. Maybe the next morning or something. If he didn’t hate Jack while he was emotional and raw from the initial breakup, he might in this letter. But Jack opened it, anyway.

My Dearest Jack,

We really are broken up. You haven’t called me, but I got a very angry text-rant from Crutchie (for which he apologized 10 minutes later) which basically boiled down to him saying I broke your heart. Romeo called me, said ‘dude, not cool,’ then hung up. Race and Medda seem to be trying to see both sides, and though Kath did tell me that the last few months have been like ‘listening to mom and dad fight downstairs,’ she’s not offering any advice. I think she and Sarah are waiting for me to come to them.

I’m so sorry, Jackie. I know this is mostly my fault. Still, I can’t make the first move. Don’t forget: I know you. You’re more concerned with other people’s feelings than yours, so if I ask you to take me back and you do it, I can’t be sure you didn’t just do it for me. If we ever get back together, it has to be because you want it, too. However, I know you won’t even consider we could get back together unless I give you a sign, which is why I’m leaving you my letters.

You went back to Santa Fe two weeks ago and I’m finally stable enough to come get my stuff from your house and drop off what little you left in my room. While I’m there, I’m gonna hide this somewhere. I guess we’ll both have to pray no one else in your family finds it. That would be awkward.

When you find this, I want you to think long and hard about what you want, Jackie. I want you to make a decision for you. Goddammit, think about yourself first for once.

If you fight for me, I want you to do it because it’s what you really want. That fairytale romcom ending with me is still yours if you play your cards right. (Don’t think I forgot all the hurtful things you said to me, even if I’m 70% sure you didn’t mean them.) It might take... I dunno, therapy or something, but I still think we can fix this. It won’t be easy, but neither is love. Neither is our entire messed-up, broken group of friends.

I used to think I’d lose all of them if I lost you. Maybe I would have, if I’d messed up like this in 8th grade. But now, I know I won’t, because they’re all blowing up my phone as much as I’m sure they’re blowing up yours, asking if I’m okay. I see now that they need me as much as I need them. And they still need you, too, even if you do need to accept a little more that we’re all grown-ups now.

Where was I going with this? I had a point.

I guess all there’s left to say is that if you still want that perfect ending with me—getting married and having kids and having them call all our friends ‘auntie’ and ‘uncle’—fight for it. Loving someone the way I’m in love with you doesn’t happen twice, so I’m not going anywhere. You know where to find me.

You probably won’t find this for a while. Hell, you’re not even coming home again until summer break. But that’s probably a good thing. It gives us both some time to cool off and think.

So think, Jackie. Think long and hard and make a choice. Fight for me or don’t. In case I never get a chance to say it in person again...

I love you, Jack Kelly.

Love, Davey

Oh shit.

Davey left this in Jack’s closet a year and a half ago. He’d probably expected Jack to find it that summer. In fact, he probably thought Jack had found it and just decided not to fight for him.

Jack still wanted to fight for him. He had no doubts about that.

But did his have to discover this box now? When he was leaving for Santa Fe to finish his senior year tomorrow?

Fuck it. Even if it had been almost two years, even if there was a high chance Davey wasn’t waiting for him anymore, he still had to do this

Driving to the Jacobs house right then and there was probably the stupidest thing Jack had ever done, and that was including riding that Walmart shopping cart Albert stole down a hill in 8th grade with Race, Romeo, and Albert when Davey, Kath, and Specs weren’t there to stop them.

Sarah was the one who opened the door, and she... Jack hadn’t talked to Saz since the breakup, since she’d been staying mad at him out of solidarity. Honestly, he was now realizing that he’d missed her nearly as much as he’d missed Davey. They’d been good friends, once upon a time.

Now, she glared at him, “The fuck are you doing here, Kelly?”

“I...” Jack honestly couldn’t think of a good way to explain this, “Is he home?”

Sarah snorted, “What? After a year and a half, you’ve finally come to your senses and realized you’ll never find another one like my brother?”

“I never planned on anyone like him in the first place,” Jack snapped, “Davey was always... even back in middle school... You think I’d ever believe I could find someone else like that? I’m dumb, Saz, but I ain’t stupid. I always knew I was givin’ up on forever when I didn’t try to get him back, but... but I thought he didn’t want me anymore.”

Sarah froze, then leaned against the doorframe, laughing kind of hopelessly, “You are stupid, Jack Kelly, if you think my brother wasn’t totally gone for you and totally broken-hearted when you didn’t try to fight for him.”

Jack definitely had an oh shit moment, “Wait, do you know? About the..?”

“The box of letters he left you? Yeah. He told me last year, after you left for junior year without coming for him.”

Jack took the last letter out of his pocket, “I just found it.”

Saz took a second to process that before motioning for Jack to come in, shouting up the stairs, “Davey! Get your butt down here!”

Les, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up from his sandwich, “Holy shit. Jack?”

“Hi, kid,” Jack said, trying not to be weirded out by how the now-16-year-old was taller than him.

“Davey?” Sarah yelled again, clearly impatient.

“Alright, alright! God, Saz, what couldn’t wait 10 se—“ That was when Davey looked up, seeing Jack in his kitchen.

“That couldn’t wait,” Sarah said pointedly, “Les, let’s go... not be here.”

“If I eat in my room, Mom’ll kill me,” Les said, picking up his sandwich, anyway.

“Eat in my room, then.”

Jack and Davey were silent until the other two Jacobs siblings were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Jack?”

Jack had to take a deep breath before he responded, “When was the last time you went somewhere besides school if somebody didn’t drag you out of the house?”

“What?”

“Do the people who love you say you’ve changed? Do they keep saying they need a designated driver only to try to get you drinking and dancing like it’ll make you smile?”

“What are you—“

“Are there songs you can’t listen to? Movies you can’t watch? Have you so much as called someone back when they gave you their number?”

“Jack,” Davey looked at the ceiling, “What’s this about?”

“You once said you wouldn’t put your life on hold for me,” Jack said, “And you were right not to. I can be overprotective, sometimes. No one should put their dreams on hold because of a lover, but... my dreams are the only thing I haven’t put on hold, Dave. I ain’t been living since I lost you. Not really. And when our friends all said I was smilin’ less, I never let myself think about it, because if I did, I’d have to think about how much I was still hurtin’ over you.”

Davey laughed sady, “Jack, if you really wanted me, you would have fought for me a long time ago, so—“

“You’re talkin’ about the letters?” Jack asked, holding up the one he had on him, “Davey... I just found them. Today.”

Davey was silent, his face completely unreadable. Jack was holding his breath.

“Jack Kelly,” he finally smiled, “I should have known you would take this long to clean out your damn closet.”

“I think you spent enough time in the closet for the both of us.” Jack joked.

Davey rolled his eyes, “Very funny, Jackie. Anyway... I don’t think it’s any secret that we can’t just pick up where we left off.”

“Of course not.”

“So... coffee? If we’re trying again, I’d prefer to take things slow.”

Jack nodded, “Probably a good thing I’m going back to Santa Fe after tomorrow. That ain’t enough time for us to do something we’ll regret.”

“Yeah, I guess mostly just texting is one way to take it slow... speaking of which, one of us should probably text the group chat.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack grinned, “They’re gonna freak.”

[undertaleowl]

The kitten ask was so cute!! Thank you so much! You said you could do little one-shot? What about some soulmate Au first meeting with UF sans? It could be: not seeing color til our eyes meet or "our first word are written on each other" or "first time we touch" etc. Not everyone like soulmate au so no problem if you dont want to do it!! ^^

Ahhhh, thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. Sorry for the hold up, but I hope you like this one just as much. One-shot is under the cut. Thank you again!

Note: I went a little overboard on this ask, so instead of the max of 1,500 words, it’s 2,525. Sorry! I hope reader-insert format is okay.

Budding Relationships

When you were born, you and your family received a bundle of flowers from the hospital. The supposed “mages” from back in the day had started the tradition, saying that the type of flowers you were given at birth determined your future; roses, of course, meant true love was in your future, but what type of true love was dependent on the color. Red for lover’s love, pink for admiring or revering love, or white for love between friends. Lilies meant prosperity and a fruitful future. Sweet William flowers represented fraternity and strength in friendships. However, when the hospital sent your family home with flowers, they were flowers that no one recognized.

“Because you’re completely unique,” your parents had joked.

The petals were reminiscent of the first pattern of petals on a lotus flower, but the flowers were a cyan-turquoise color that almost seemed to glow. Over the years, you and your parents had tried researching the flowers, but no dice.

You couldn’t help but feel disheartened. There was another part of the flower legend, one that had significantly more weight than just a vague sense of the future. Many people in this region said that your flower wouldn’t decay until you had met the person you were supposed to be with for the rest of your life. Supposedly, some random person somewhere had another flower that represented their soulmate, and it was the same deal. You were supposed to carry your birth flower with you in your pocket, but there was only a handful of people that did that anymore. The flowers didn’t decay, but for most people, they never decayed. Ever.

If this flower represented anyone, you would throw away all of your high school science textbooks into a fire, because each one said that the legend couldn’t be possible because your flower just did not exist. So, no soulmate for you. Even if it was just a dumb legend, it was still disappointing.  

As the years went by, you became even more determined to figure out what this mystery flower was. Not even for the sake of finding your supposed soulmate, just finding out why you had gotten the flowers you did when they weren’t supposed to exist. You went to the hospital where you had been born, and asked if they remembered when they got the luminescent turquoise flowers. The good news was that the lady who worked there as the hospital florist still worked there, and she remembered your flowers. However, she said that the flowers had been an anonymous donation, meaning they couldn’t be traced back at all.

You threw everything you had into researching flowers after that, seeing if you could find other flowers that looked somewhat similar as a comparison point. Finally, you broke some ground. Apparently, the Ebottian Golden Flower had a similar structure to your mystery flowers. Eventually, you became actually interested in your research, so naturally, you went to college to further study plants and got yourself a botany degree at Ebbot City University, where this Ebottian Golden Flower was common. On the night before your graduation, you whispered to your flower that you hoped that your degree helped you discover its secrets.

Was it just you, or did those words seem to echo around your room that night?

After studying it on your own time after graduation as a research assistant, you finally checked the DNA on the flower. The DNA comparison of the glowing flowers was an almost exact match to the Ebottian Golden Flowers. Only the size, color, and of course the glowing were different. Related species? Or the exact same species that happened to differ in appearance, like breeds of dogs? You didn’t have an answer, so you stuck with your studies as you quit your job as an assistant and opened up a flower shop that had a flower identification lab space in back. It was mostly for the struggling grad students who needed help acing their exams. Your own mystery flower was back there on a shelf, and watched over you as you worked.

When the monsters re-integrated into society, you weren’t all that affected, except for one isolated incident when the Monster King had come in and demanded flowers for trying to win back a loved one. Well-versed in flower iconography and color coordination, you put together an arrangement of purple hyacinths (regret), pink roses (admiration), and white mayflowers (a new beginning). He gruffly threw too much money on the counter and stormed out, the bouquet in his hands. Two days later, the monster queen stormed in, threw the flowers on the counter, said she appreciated your hard work, but paid you an equal amount of money to take them back.

Other than that, both monsters and humans frequented your store, but nothing had happened that was as dramatic as that.

Until one day, a skeleton with red eye lights strode into the store, looking a bit lost in the forest of foliage. You were finishing up a bouquet, so you called from the back.

“Be there in just a second! Feel free to look around!”

You could have sworn that you heard him mumbling about how coming here was a waste of time, but if he truly felt that way, then why was he here? You didn’t pay any attention to your customer’s grumpy demeanor as you tied a silver bow around the neck of the vase. You put the flower arrangement into a preservation fridge.

“So what are you in for today?” you chirped as you took your gloves off and put them behind the register. When you looked up, you tried to contain your surprise. You had seen this skeleton before, along with who you assumed was his brother, but they just seemed like they wanted to be left alone whenever you saw them strolling on the streets. The skeleton looked up from examining the yellow flowers. He looked a little shocked himself.

“You’re a damn human,” he said. You crossed your arms, trying not to look defensive.

“And you’re a skeleton. What’s your point?” you asked. He rolled his eyelights.

“I’m not here to talk politics of species differences, sweet cheeks. Tori-I mean the Queen, said your arrangements are good and that you know tons of shit about flowers. Usually, she doesn’t take a shine to adult humans easy,” he explained. You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Alright, fair enough.” You straightened, ready to get back to business, but your chest had grown tight for some reason. It felt almost…warm? You mentally pushed to observation aside. You were probably catching a cold or something. “What are you looking for today, Mr. Skeleton?”

Instead of answering, he nodded his head towards the “take one flower” vases. “What are these flowers?”

You walked over and looked at the vase he was pointing to. “These are buttercups. They’re smaller, so if you’re wanting to give them to someone, you’d be better off getting one of the buttercup bouquets,” you said, pointing to the other side of the store where all of the generic bouquets were kept. He nodded, looking at the buttercups intensely. “If you were wanting to give them to someone, you’d better be trying to ask that someone out. Unless they’re a baby. ”

He looked at you like you had grown two heads. “What?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Buttercups represent childhood or childishness. Many people give buttercups as gifts to new parents, for their baby’s room. Or, it’s because they are courting someone you just started seeing. Like, your relationship is in the childhood stage,” you explained. The skeleton blinked before he started snickering. You straightened again, more than ready to go on the offensive. “What?”

“It’s nothin’,” he chortled. “Jus’ sounds like a load of crap, is all.” You felt your face redden.

“It’s not crap! It’s history!” You pointed a finger at the skeleton’s chest. “I’ll have you know that some people have studied this ‘crap’ and have documented it for years, centuries, even millennia! The Greeks and the Egyptians thought certain flowers were supposed to represent the afterlife, or some flowers were known for their healing properties. And hell, a lot of the flower meanings today remain unchanged. It’s a sign of human culture, not just silly superstition,” you asserted. He opened his mouth to speak before you cut him off. “I did my Capstone on this so called ‘crap’ do NOT try to contradict me.”

He snickered again before raising his hands in an “I surrender” gesture. “I get it, I get it. You know your stuff. I jus’ needed to check.” You blinked and sighed.

“Fine. I guess if you’re really looking for a professional, then you have every right to test them,” you grumbled. “Got anymore tests for me before you tell me what you want?”

The guy’s cocky smirk decreased and for the first time since walking in here, he looked serious.  “I need you to identify a flower and tell me what it means. Like, the flower history and symbology an’ shit.”

“Iconography,” you corrected. “Symbology tends to represent more historical contexts. Iconography studies images and interpretations of more abstract concepts, like concepts in certain religious texts or emotions.”

Sans quirked a bone brow. “You really do know what you’re talkin’ about. Good.” He took out a plastic baggy from his leather jacket pocket and put it in your hand. “What is it?”  

You had a pretty good idea of what it could be, so you nudged your head to the back of the store. “Follow me.” He did, and you put on a new pair of latex gloves. You gently plucked the flower from his grip with a pair of forceps. You already had a good idea of what it was, considering you had lived in Ebott City most of your adult life. You grabbed a magnifying glass and examined the vein structure in the leaves. Nodding to yourself quietly, you went over to the computer and input the data. You did the same thing with petal pattern and the pattern of the stigma. You smiled to yourself when the search narrowed down to a few geological locations, all of which you knew very well. Your hunch had been right, especially when you were studying this flower for a long while to understand your own birth flower.

“Well?” the skeleton asked, obviously impatient. “Do you know what the flower is, or don’tcha?”

You held up a pacifying hand. He calmed down and waited for your explanation. “It’s an Ebottian Golden Flower. Super common, especially on the outskirts of Ebott City. The plains around Mount Ebott are full of them. I’m surprised you didn’t see them when you got out from under the mountain.” Just as his skeletal hand touched yours as he took the flower back, the flower withered into nothing but a black stem. You yelped as he looked down at it in shock. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I…I-I-I don’t know what happened! I’m even wearing gloves!”

While you fretted, the skeleton looked over your shoulder and his eye sockets widened. Suddenly, everything made sense as he saw a potted bundle of Echo Flowers was on your shelf. He grabbed the pot off your shelf and shoved them into your hands. You stopped freaking out and stared at him quizzically, though you felt your cheeks growing hotter with how intensely he was looking at you. “Where did you get these flowers?” he asked. You stammered for a little bit before answering.

“They’re my birth flowers,” you answered. “The hospital gives them to you when you’re born and they’re supposed to be with you the rest of your life.”

Sans nodded. “I know. Monsters have the same thing. I guess we did take some things from the Surface after all.” He went to touch one of the flower petals when he froze. “Do you have the legend too? About soulmates an’ shit?”

You nodded, taken aback. Why was he bringing this up?

Sans nodded back. “Sorry for this.” He gripped the stems. Just like his Ebottian Golden Flower, the Echo Flowers shriveled up, turned black, and gradually disappeared. You blinked.

“What…?”

It didn’t make sense. It seemed super unlikely that both of you had the same chemical on your hands that completely destroyed the innocent, beautiful flowers, but it still happened! What was the explanation?! What…?

You stopped short, the words of the legend coming up in your head for no reason. “The flower will not decay until you meet the one with whom you’ll share your days,” you breathed. You looked at Sans and realized that maybe the chest tightening was…attraction? “Oh, wow.” The skeleton let out a snort.

“That’s all ya have to say? You just found out your soulmate is a literal monster. And you’re a damn human!” He let out a an uneasy laugh. “I mean I came here to find out if I even had a soulmate but to actually find my soulmate? Like, what the fuck?”

You stood there, gobsmacked as your heart raced a million miles an hour. His smirk was kind of attractive in a “come closer, and I’ll bite you somewhere pleasant” type of way, if you thought about it. Fuck, you were already in so deep and you had met only ten minutes ago!

He smiled, but the smile seemed more cautious now. “Heya, I know this is sudden, but wanna come with me to Grillby’s? Even if we don’t get…ya know…together, we should at least get to know each other or some shit’ right?” Before you could even gather your wits, he ran a hand down his face. “What am I sayin’? I’m a skeleton with fuckin’ demon teeth and I’m asking a tiny human stranger to have lunch with me!” He looked at you one more time. “Sorry. Fuck everything I just said, yeah? Forget it.” He moved to run out of the room, but you grabbed his wrist before you even knew what you were doing.

“Hush. I’m coming whether you want me to or not.” He looked at you like you were crazy, so you cleared your throat. “T-to learn about the flower, I mean! I’m the only person who ever got those flowers as far as I know, and you seem to know what they are.”

He smirked. “That so?” You nodded, hoping that you weren’t red-faced. He shrugged. “Eh. Don’t see why not. Close up, toots.”

You did as he said, and he nodded at you to follow him. “Name’s Sans, by the way,” he said. “Sans the Skeleton.” You smiled and gave him your name. You both walked in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “By the way, you never told me what my flower means. It’s supposed to represent you or some other sentimental shit, yeah?”

Your face went bright red. There was no way in Hell you were telling him that it meant everlasting devotion and was indicative of a successful marriage. You wanted to see where your budding relationship with the snarky, sort of assholish skeleton led.

[eggoreviews]

12 ‘Unpopular’ Viddy Game Opinions

I’ve seen this topic floating around a lot, but didn’t think I had enough ‘unpopular but maybe not’ opinions about games to make a post. Turns out I do! So if you see this and I say something blasphemous, remember it’s just my opinion and my personal experiences with the games I list. Hope you enjoy or hey, maybe even agree with some of this!

Note: Can’t stress enough. This is just me. Also, spoilers under the cut!

12. The opening of Kingdom Hearts II isn’t as terrible as everyone says

Okay, so it’s not brilliant, but at the same time, I don’t think it’s the worst. For those not in the know, KH2′s opening is a basically a massive slog where you play as a character you don’t know or care about with seemingly no real link to the events of the previous game. The general consensus is that there’s some interesting stuff in here, but it’s buried among endless dialogue that really doesn’t mean much. And they’re right, but I really think there’s some great stuff here that people tend to gloss over. The music and the motif of Twilight Town is atmospheric, there’s some genuinely intriguing plot elements that are woven into Roxas’ story and believe it or not, the stuff that happens here is intrinsic to the rest of the game. So yeah, it drags on a little, but I don’t think KH2 would be miles better without this opening.

11. I loved Breath of the Wild’s final boss

One of the problems I see talked about with Breath of the Wild is that the boss fights are fairly mediocre, especially the very last one, Dark Beast Ganon. And I couldn’t disagree more. I think every boss in the game is wonderfully crafted, intense, challenging and great for testing you on what you’ve learned throughout the game by encouraging you to make creative use of your slate powers and the flurry rush technique. And while Mr. Pig Man at the end here is sort of easy and short, it serves as a brilliantly epic finale to damn near perfect game. While the difficulty is mostly gone after the mammoth fight with Calamity Ganon, it’s still just as intense as you frantically fire off arrows into the massive beast in front of you. Plus, the design of this thing is one of the best looking monsters in the game, so I really don’t understand the dislike for this ending.

10. I really like Crash of the Titans

Okay, so maybe childhood nostalgia has something to do with this pick, but every Crash fan I’m aware of seems to hate this game. But I don’t really know where the hate comes from! I played the PS2 version of this and I thought it was a genuinely fun 3D platformer with a variety of locations, good visuals, well-designed boss battles and even a vague story you can sort of follow! The game’s main gameplay feature is also brilliantly integrated, as using Aku Aku to possess various monsters throughout the game keeps everything interesting. One thing I will say though, that tiger dude you have to fight about halfway through is the most annoying thing I’ve ever had to endure in a game.

9. Life Is Strange: Before the Storm is BAD

I loved Life Is Strange when it first dropped, so I was beyond excited when they announced a prequel from Chloe’s perspective. But I really think they dropped the ball and they dropped it hard. But everyone else seems to adore this game! For me, this wasn’t a touch on the original. For a start, they dropped out one of the main mechanics of the first game, the time travel, which they then replaced with a much less interesting ‘Backtalk’ feature, which was then only used about twice throughout the game. Instead of interesting, developed characters reacting to genuinely dangerous or heartfelt situations, it felt to me like a bunch of one-dimensional teenagers who are edgy for the sake of being edgy. Chloe spends the majority of the game being a dick to her mother and bunking off class to spend time with Rachel, who she has literally known for like a day and their sudden relationship drops out of nowhere. Not that I didn’t enjoy the emotional moments of their relationship, it just didn’t feel like it stemmed from anywhere, unlike Max and Chloe from the first game. And the game’s attempts at villains were also rubbish compared to the first, with Damien (random scary knife guy who doesn’t really tie into the plot that much) and Eliot (who doesn’t appear for the whole game and suddenly goes full incel on Chloe when she breaks into Rachel’s house). Yeah I think you can tell I had some problems with this one.

8. Dishonored: Death of the Outsider was also a hot mess

I LOVE the Dishonored series. The first game and its DLCs are amazing, the second game was arguably even better. And then this happened. In this one, you play as Billie Lurk, a character I love, and Daud comes back, a character I also love. But both of them are incredibly badly written and it doesn’t feel like there’s any development to them or even much reason for them to do what they’re doing. This entry took the mystery surrounding the Outsider and basically did a big poo on it, giving us the revelation that he was apparently HUMAN this whole time. I think that was the nail in the coffin that made me sort of think this was a bit rubbish. While the combat and side missions were as brilliant as ever, the level designs felt less creative than other entries in the series and lacked variety or colour, all the side characters were entirely forgettable and to wrap it all up, they killed Daud offscreen. Out of nowhere, they just killed him, mentioned it offhand in a cutscene and that was that. If you like this game, fair enough, but it kind of baffles me that more people don’t see this in the game.

7. Mario Galaxy 2 is good. It’s just sort of good

Some people cite this as being one of the best 3D platformers of all time, and that’s fair enough, but I just kind of see this one as ‘good’. Sure, it has a good, satisfying control scheme for the most part, the level design is creative and the bosses and puzzles are pretty standard for a Mario title, but still enjoyable. However, sometimes, the floaty physics and weird knockback effect from jumping into walls led to quite a lot of unfair deaths, especially if I’d been punished for messing up already by losing a life, only to then immediately be punished again by falling into the void. Plus, I found Yoshi near impossible to control at some points with the motion controls. So yeah, this one is genuinely enjoyable, but I don’t think I’d personally put it with the best of all time.

6. I LOVE Dragon Quest IX TO DEATH

This is a game in a legendary franchise that consistently almost always see ranked at the very bottom of the pile in the series. But I really don’t understand how or why. Okay so your protagonist and party are basically silent and don’t have a lot of character, but I don’t see this as a reason to totally write off the game! The side characters, villains and story are all amazing and well-developed, the world is huge, colourful and interesting, the monsters are brilliantly creative and Dragon Quest’s signature lame sense of humour is gratefully carried through the whole game. The music is always brilliant and atmospheric and the bosses are just as memorable as each character you meet. What was everyone’s problem?? This is genuinely one of the best RPGs I’ve ever played and if you haven’t had a chance to pick it up, it is so, so worth it.

5. Sonic Adventure is a broken mess

So before I kick this one off, I’m not someone who hates Sonic and I’m not here to slate the whole franchise, but considering this game is often considered to be one of the best in the series, I thought it was definitely worth addressing. When I first played this, I literally couldn’t believe this was made in 1998, AFTER Mario 64 and yet it’s so broken! The physics and control scheme are totally wonky and hard to control, the unending amount of glitches make a fair amount of the stages almost unplayable, the voice acting and facial animation is cringey and oddly broken and yet, this was all on the Dreamcast. The most powerful console of the time. And I don’t think I even need to mention how boring some of the later stages get, with Big the Cat’s fishing section being the main offender. I can’t vouch for Adventure 2 as I haven’t had a chance to play yet, but I really hope it isn’t like this.

4. Dragon Age Origins is the best Dragon Age

Dragon Age has always been a popular RPG series, but I think it properly shot to fame once Inquisition dropped in 2014. And don’t get me wrong, I liked Inquisition! The world was colourful and expansive and the characters were fairly memorable, but I still think the best experience you can get is in the series’ first entry, Origins. While it’s pretty easy to see that it’s slightly dated considering it’s ten years old now, the best characters and story in the series I think is here. Each companion you recruit is varied and developed and the story wraps up brilliantly in the end with each companion and army you meet playing a different role in the final battle. Plus, I kind of can’t forgive Inquisition for making Leliana lose her sense of humour and making her kinda boring.

3. Oblivion is better than Skyrim

Okay so I’m not sure exactly how unpopular this is, but I just thought Oblivion was miles better than Skyrim ended up being. Just to clear it up, I still love Skyrim and I thought it built on the series’ combat system and variety of enemies really well and still provided an enjoyable experience. But Oblivion feels like more of an adventure you feel at home in. The story is dense and full of twists and turns. The soundtrack has some of the most atmospheric music I’ve ever heard, the world is full of bright colours, each city is vastly different and has its own lore and I found some of this to be absent from Skyrim. I’d go into more detail, but I think the simple fact is that Oblivion had so much more I liked than Skyrim.

2. I don’t think The Witcher III is all that amazing (in some regards)

This by no means says that I don’t like the game, because I do, but I think it has more flaws than people let on. Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of the stuff people praise about this game is true, the quests are in-depth and masterfully crafted, the characters, especially Geralt, are extremely memorable. In fact, Geralt is one of my favourite game protagonists. But most of the problems I had were in terms of the gameplay. The combat, while fast-paced and satisfying, can sometimes feel a little finicky, so a lot of precision is needed. However, I felt that the world itself didn’t particularly interest me and the music is often ambient but outside of combat, isn’t anything special. Mostly though, the leveling system I found to be a bit wonky. I did absolutely everything I could in the first area of the game; all the side quests, treasure hunts, killed a whole bunch of monsters etc. And then I arrive in the second area and find I’m too underleveled to do literally anything. The majority of the quests have too high a level cap, a lot of the monsters kill me very quickly. And because the bulk of EXP farming is in the quests, I’m sort of stuck in an endless loop of constantly not being strong enough to do anything. On top of that, all my equipment keeps breaking and I’m finding that repair kits are extremely few and far between and that makes me even WEAKER. It’s something I’m gonna need to persevere with I think, but hey, this is just my experience with it.

1. Ocarina of Time, as amazing as it is, may have overstayed its welcome as best game of all time

I reckon this might be the most controversial, so it’s number 1. Let me preface this by saying I really like Ocarina and I agree that it was innovative for the RPG genre at the time. There’s a hell of a lot in this game that we have to thank for the games we have today. But considering how far the gaming industry has come since then and the sheer amount of high quality games we’ve been getting year after year, is still fair to call this the best game ever? When more recent games have taken what Ocarina started and built upon it? Games like Breath of the Wild, Horizon Zero Dawn, Red Dead Redemption II, God of War all gave us expansive, beautiful worlds and a story you can really get stuck into. And all the time, more and more games of this caliber are coming out. So yes, of course Ocarina of Time deserves a place in the hall of fame, it was revolutionary and still holds up really well today! I just can’t help but think there have been plenty of games since then, as flawed as some of them may be, that have improved upon the formula tenfold since Ocarina’s release.

Thanks for reading if you got this far! Just to reiterate, these are all just my opinions and my experiences with the games I mentioned, so pls don’t attack me. Got any viddy game opinions you think are sort of not popular? Drop them down below if you feel like it!

[mastrrt]

The Tigress Dilemma *fanfiction*

Usually, fanfic writers (such as I) have a hard time depicting complex characters such as Tigress, ergo this lack of this understanding about our characters can lead us to defile their original personalities and characteristics. I'm pretty sure most, if not, all of us are victims to the Tigress Dilemma, and this problem can only be resolved once Dreamworks has finished Tigress's arc. The Tigress Dilemma is basically what I mentioned above. We misinterpret Tigress and that could lead us to writing imposters instead. Now I have seen many fanfics, and all of them vary in the extent of how terrible their Tigress imposter is. I would say that for my fanfics, my Tigress imposter is pretty far off from the original character, but I feel I am getting there... it's a very slow progress, but every increment of time is making me better as a writer. Anywho, I'll be addressing some Tigress Imposter stereotypes. These stereotypes are the ones we want to avoid as much as possible. And if we do so, we can get closer to the original Tigress. Now, disclaimer, I am not here to tarnish the pride of any of you fanfic writers. I'm just here to point out my opinions and hopefully my opinions can do more good than harm. Also, to bring this blog a more positive vibe, I will be writing some Tigress stereotypes that we should all follow. But that'll be on the next post. 1. The 'Punk Girl School Bully' Type of Tigress. (LoA Tigress) Sleeves are for wimps... fat muscles... I got huge front teeth... i'll put your head on the toilet... pig anatomy on the facial region... you punk!... ILLL BEAT YOUUU UP!... girl that looks like a man... Those lines are all inside the ambit of any typical Buff School Girl Bully. And yeah, these types of people aren't the most likeable. Mainly because of their terrible ego and pride, their unmanaged temper, their constant screaming, and the fact that they bully. And these types of characters usually act upon their anger, and these types of characters are usually defeated by their own caprices. Now a lot of times, people usually confuse 'Punk Girl School Bully' as Tigress's characteristics.

For example, a lot of fanfictions tend to write this: Tigress was clouded with anger. How dare this cocky prick make fun of her name like that? She charged at him, trying to land a double fist strike on her belly, but it has seemed that her muscles were so angry that she suddenly turned into an amateur fighter and totally missed the cocky mite's stomache. Now she was even angrier. She gave a frustrated yell and pounced at the prick, driving her feet into a powerful tornado kick, but the man has sidestepped and she was too angry to use that momentum to execute another kick upon landing. Oh she was so so SO angry that everything turned red. Even though the man was merely a stranger, his smart remarks was enough to somehow make Tigress want to tamper him, as if her anger was derived from personal matter. Oh yes, Tigress was so weak that her peace has succumbed so easily to something as superficial as an empty insult. It isn't like she's a warrior who learned integrity, who lived by virtues and proverbs, and learned to swallow her pride the hard way. Nope. She was just the average hot head. "You! You idiot!" She yelled, driving her fist into arbitrary turns and twist with the speed of a toddler's fist in a fit of frenzy. And yet, after delivering such 'efficient' attacks, the man had avoided her punches the Muhammad Ali way. What's next? The rope-a-dope? Is that how weak Tigress became because of her anger? Oh, and since she's sooo angry, she also became majorly stupid! Since she's losing, she might as well become more desperate to win and because of this, she kinda lost 9/10 of her damn brain. It isn't like she had experienced worst before. It isn't like she's been in a tower surrounded by hundreds of adversaries, outmatched, outgunned, out everything, and still managed to escape through a genius idea to catapult her and her Enterprise out the flaming tower THROUGH the toppling flaming tower.

Look, Tigress can be hot head, but she doesn't allow it to manifest in a way that hampers her during battle. She's a warrior who for sure learned patience. Yes, she might have let herself succumb to her anger during the first movie (by trying to fight Tai Lung despite her master's efforts to stop her) but do understand that it was because of that cursed snow leopard that her father was just outright terrible to her, and 20 years of desperation and overwhelming commitment to kung fu led her to think that defeating Tai Lung is the key to Shifu's heart. Watch the Second movie through and through, with the eyes of a scrutenizing critic. If she is angry, it is usually to appear intimidating or lethal. It's a great strategy, escpecially now that her opponents would surely hold back once they hear the low baritone of her growl. But never, never, never, never, I assure you, did she appear angry and let that rage make her a haphazard, stupid, mess.

Also, fanfic writers tend to also write this: Tigress crossed her arms and growled. Po was so annoying! He wouldn't stop babbling about his new dumpling recipe. If he says 'broccoli broth' one more time, she is sure her dormant side would burst. "SHUT UP PO! YOU ARE AN IDIOT! YOU ARE SO CHILDISH! YOU DON'T DESERVE TO BE THE DRAGON WARRIOR!" And then, Po cried and ran away from the kitchen. The rest of the five gave her a look that could compare to the menacing glare of a thousand men, and they all left her to find the weeping Po. She sneered, she didn't need them anyways. She didn't have a family. And they were no friends of hers.

Tigress is not like this! She values her friends, and she talks to them like friends. Do no potray her the LoA way, because she's not always grumpy... and she is, by chance, grumpy, it's mostly for a reason. When the other five are irritated or even disgusted of Po, you can see that only Tigress smiles. And when she is in an argument, she usually deliver herself in a calm and threatening. Yeah, calm and threatening can be together. Tigress works as a paradox. I think the problem here is that people mistake seriousness and grumpiness as neigh synonyms. DON'T mistake those two different words with the same definition. Tigress is serious, but rarely grumpy in the way LoA/ fancfictions potrays her (just compare KFP 2 Tigress to LoA Tigress (there's a big difference I tell you that (mostly because she doesn't haphazardly turn into a big bish (is this even grammatically correct?))))

2. The Morally Deficient Tigress. I hate you!... you've always been terrible to me Shifu. So I hate you too!... you guys are not my family!... i have no family!... brat times twenty... your spoon is stupid... everyone is stupid... I don't wanna do this anymore... i'll turn evil in six seconds if you don't assuage my ego... cold hearted... insults everywhere... long sullen silences followed by mean comments followed by even more long sullen silences... angst angst angst for no reason... teenage i-have-20-pounds-of-eyeliner-under-my-eyes prototype. this type of imposter Tigress is probably one of the worst forms of Tigress out there. You cannot just ignore that she has been raised by two kung fu masters, one has morals that are so polished and perfect, and the other one with flaws but regardless still wiser than most. She's also follows a regimented schedule of supreme discipline throughout the course of her twenty-eight years, so surely she has been taught hardwork, patience, determination and other virtues that any average olympian athletes would typically have. Despite being called cold-hearted, stoic, perhaps even mean, do remember that she is also a HERO. With a hero's heart and the strength of a hero's mind. You can not simply ignore that she's a good person who had saved, quite possibly, thousands of lives, expecting nothing in return except the heart of her father and a place to reside. Do not mistake badassery with idiocy. Do not make her morally deficient like she's a little child with the mindset of a brat on a bad day.

Here's some examples of this nightmare: "Why do you keep these stuff? You're so childish, you don't deserve to be the Dragon Warrior!" Tigress looked around his loft, threatened by the action figures and the posters of the masters that adorned it.

Po frowned, "But... but... items like these have very big value to me Tigress. Especially my action figures, I cherish them because it's a large fragment of my childhood memories!"

Tigress did not understand. Of course she did not, not only is she whimsy, grumpy, angry and stupid, she also lacks understanding and lessons that can usually be self-taught at the age of twenty. She acts like a little child and that's all her morality is limited to. "No! They're wooden things with no value whatsoever. Stop being a fanboy. Stop being yourself! I can't support you! You idiot."

And she left the room with grandeur ---Sharpei Style with the hint of swagger. Five days later... "It's all your fault why we're here Po! All your fault. It isn't like you made a wonderful plan and I kinda destroyed it after this cocky douche made me angry and I decided to fight him and ditch your plan. And since my dignity got the best of me, it isn't like I'm blaming you 100% on our unfortunate demise when I know 200% that i'm to blame." Po tried to speak, but Tigress continued, "Ya'll should have listened to me! Me me me me! Me me me me!" The end!

Okay okay, it's a little too exaggerated, but you get the point right? Tigress doesn't act like this. She is kind and nice, she's truly supportive even with her doubts, and she loves and values her friends, albeit these traits are not exposed because it's overshadowed by her stoic demeanor. Whatever... sometimes light filters through her facade and you can see her vulnerabilities.

3. The Profesional Becomes the Biggest Amateur. Gets defeated by a few alligators who could barely fight... can't get unstuck from a rope THAT ISNT EVEN KNOTTED NOR THICK ENOUGH TO CARRY TWO POUNDS... can't get out a sticky situation even though she has been through worse... pathetic tiger... no longer has super strength that she has been gifted with. Now I'm just a thread's breadth away before typing a full fledge rant. Yes! I get it. She has been defeated by people who Po can defeat. She has been defeated by Tai lung and Po was able to defeat Tai Lung. But that was because Po was in a special situation, and it was truly only Po who could defeat Tai Lung (I'll adress this in a new post.) Have ya'll ever of this rule, in both film making and book writing, that authors must refrain from degrading everyone's intelligence so that a single character can appear in the caliber of a genius? Basically, what I'm saying is that you cannot make the five (escape Tigress) leagues weaker than their original selves just for the sake of making Po or your main OCs appear stronger. One, that's a terrible illusion that even a blind man can see through. And two, that's just disrespectful for a The Five. Not only are the five overshadowed, but ya'll also heavily disregarded the fact that they are warriors that did a lot. You're forgetting that Tigress can do this

Do not forget that she is the person who can do so much more. If you want a story where Tigress becomes a damsel in distress, and Po is the one to save her, DO NOT get her kidnapped by five wolves. Or ten. Or even twenty. Because this tiger can handle of them easy. Make sure she is defeated by a whole fudging army, or a bunch of hooded warriors who are thousands of years old and are as good as Shifu in kung fu. Make sure her defeat is reasonable and respects what she can do. KNOW what she can do, so that you learn her limits. Give her a challenge, give her a run for her money. Don't make her pathetic just because you want someone else to seem not pathetic. Us fan fic writers say that Tigress is hardcore. Awesome. Badarse. So maybe we should write her that way. Some fan fics I read write that Tigress got defeated because she was hungry or tired and couldn't fight against a few adversaries. I roll me eyes. Bro! You cannot make hunger the reason why she's defeated😂 have you seen what she ate during the first KFP movie? Her meals consists of tea and a small, chewy block of tofu. Please. She had trained her body and mind to resist pain in a way that wouldn't affect her during battle. And don't go destroying her stamina either. If she can go the whole night just battling a bunch of wolves, without even so much as passing out then pulease, don't make tiredness as an excuse. But there are some exceptions though. Like maybe she got tired because she drained her chi. Then that's understandable. So much work.

[lookbackmachine]

Manny The Uncanny Oral History Transcript

00:07 Speaker 1: When you're a kid, there's a few television moments that make you say, "What the hell was that?" Those shocking moments in which you're exposed to something wholly different than you've ever experienced. This doesn't occur often because most television shows created for kids are trying to replicate what has already worked in the past. It's why after a juggernaut like Ninja Turtles you get Biker Mice from Mars, Street Sharks and Moo Mesa. Children's television breaks with the old adage, "everything old is new again". Instead it's everything new is new again. In addition as a child, you are limited in what you can see. Your movies generally go up to PG, PG-13 if your dad was cool or if your older brother was cool, and NC-17 if your grandmother was weird. Profanity, sex, and violence are beyond your cultural scope. Not to mention as a kid you don't have the cultural framework or vocabulary to describe what you've seen. It's a purely internalized experience of the weird. That's why when there's something truly different it's so memorable. In the '90s, Manny the Uncanny definitely falls within this distinguished, "what the hell" category. Not only because he's weird; he certainly is, but because this...

01:21 Speaker 2: Why don't you go talk to the head potty guy? Come on! And Mr. Jim Langely, the head potty guy, is going to be telling us all about what happens with our potty bits. Tell me about potty bits.

01:32 Speaker 3: Potty bits?

01:33 Speaker 2: Potty bits.

01:33 Speaker 3: Potty bits.

01:34 Speaker 2: Grandma's trousers!

01:38 Speaker 1: Was on a Disney-branded Saturday morning. It begs repeating, What the hell? This character creation comes from the brilliantly deranged mind of Paul Rugg, and he spent the majority of his adult life making your childhood strange. But first a little history. Steven Spielberg has made several attempts to be Walt Disney. There was An American Tail, which eventually launched his own animation company Amblimation. There was Roger Rabbit and the Roger Rabbit shorts. And of course there was his most famous endeavor, DreamWorks. And yes, he's not Walt Disney, but he's damn close. And what puts him even closer to the heights of Walt Disney's pencil thin moustache was his run at Warner Brothers Animation in the '90s.

02:24 Speaker 1: It had been 20 years since the studio had created an animated short. The days of Termite Terrace were long gone, and that's where Spielberg saw opportunity. He thought maybe a Looney Tunes movie would work, and was working on one in 1987 about young Tunes learning from the greats at the Acme Academy, but it never panned out. Instead, the movie was put into television development, which was better suited for the wonderful short form zaniness of the Looney Tunes, and thus Steven Spielberg Presents Tiny Toon Adventures was born.

02:55 Speaker 1: The show borrowed the Disney television animation model and infused historically cheap television animation with cash resulting in smoother animation and live orchestration for every show. Before the first episode, $25 million had been spent on Tiny Toons. After all, there was a daunting legacy to live up to, and it did. In its second year it was beating Darkwing Duck, Ninja Turtles, and DuckTales. Buoyed by that initial success, Spielberg and Warner Brothers Animation created the Animaniacs, which gracefully captured the essence of the old Looney Tunes classics, that have long evaded reproductions. Because the classic Looney Tunes shorts are perfection. That's not an exaggeration or an opinion; they are perfect. If you're a non-believer, imagine writing a joke that's still funny 70 years later. Imagine doing animation 70 years ago that is still seen as some of the best to this day, which is why its spirit has been so difficult to recapture. But the Animaniacs are the closest thing to the Looney Tunes since Looney Tunes. An integral part of the team that captured the bygone era was Paul Rugg.

04:02 Paul Rugg: I was in, sort of a offshoot of The Groundlings, called the Acme Theatre, which was founded by some people from the Groundlings. Where the Groundlings was more Hollywood-based, we were more San Fernando Valley-based, just because we were all very lazy and we all live in the San Fernando Valley. I had written some sketches for a show. Sherry Stoner, her partner Mark Sweeney, he was the director, and she started liking my stuff along with John McCann, and she said, "You know, I think you should come and we're developing this show." And I was like, "Oh, okay." And I didn't really know what they were talking about. They sent over a bible, which is everything about the characters, what the characters are. And I think I read that a couple weeks, and so did John McCann. And then we went in to meet Tom Ruegger to just get one script. He sort of told us more about characters, that they were very similar to the Marx Brothers, which is all I really needed to know. Over a week sort of wrote one and then got hired the day I turned it in, and that was it. When I saw that all of the scripts were being sent to Steven and we were waiting for his approval, and then I was like, "Wow, so he's gonna read these, huh?"

05:15 Paul Rugg: When they started doing the auditions, backgrounds, he was... We're always pending Steven's approval, so after a time I was like, well, he really does read this stuff, and he looks at this stuff and he listens to the record. And then I'd written something that never actually made it, but he sent me a memo saying, "That was really funny," so I was like, "Wow, he really is reading this stuff! My gosh, this guy really is involved". We really were writing for ourselves, and luckily he sort of liked that style. We never wrote for him, or oh, he likes this or he likes that, we were just doing what we thought was funny. And luckily he was liking it.

06:01 Paul Rugg: Once or twice, I think I might have written a joke and Tom Ruegger would say, "There's no way a kid's gonna know what that means," and I remember changing it. But maybe that happened twice out of all the scripts that I wrote. So, no, we never really thought about kids. We always wanted to keep it clean, but I can't remember ever catering a joke or a line or any of the ideas for a kid. I remember we did a parody of... Not of Apocalypse Now, but the documentary that Coppola's wife made about his making of Apocalypse Now, which is so totally obscure, and it was like, yeah, make that. So [laughter] I don't think... If we were really writing for kids, we never would have done that.

06:47 Speaker 1: Then there was Freakazoid! Which Paul voiced, wrote, and eventually produced. Freakazoid! Came along during two major changes, Time Warner would create The WB, and the Warner Brothers Animation shows would be transferred from Fox Kids to the new network. And the second, Spielberg made his final attempt to become Uncle Walt.

07:07 Paul Rugg: They were developing Freakazoid! For Steven. It was Bruce Timm and Paul Dini, and Steven wanted to take a really quirky turn and make it more very, very comedy-based. Tom Ruegger took over, and then he took John McCann and I off of Animaniacs and said, "You know, you really gotta help me, this show airs in like eight months, we don't have anything." By that time, I of felt that I had written as much as I could about Animaniacs, and as much as I loved the character I was looking for something new to do, so it was perfect.

07:38 Paul Rugg: The WB just didn't like it at all. I just don't think they liked it, which was a shame because we were having a great time with it, and Steven was really having a good time with it. We would send him a script, he goes, "This is crazy, I can't believe you guys are doing this, this is nuts". So we were all just loving it. But the WB was trying to think about... Well, in the second season, they asked us to do half hour stories in the hopes that it wouldn't be so bizarre. All that really did was [chuckle] give us a license to do more bizarre long-form stuff. Yeah, I don't think they were delighted with what we were doing.

08:20 Paul Rugg: Our demographics were coming in. Well, they weren't coming in right at the sweet spot that they want, we were really appealing to an older group, more high school, college, and some very intelligent younger children. Well, I don't wanna say The WB changed everything, but it did change everything. I think The WB in and of itself was sort of the demise of Warner Brothers Animation as we knew it then. They had a definite agenda, and that was to compete in this broader field of children's television. And they had a certain idea about what that should be. Well, they wanted Pokemon, they wanted... Mighty Morphin Power Rangers was doing really well, they wanted stuff that wasn't what necessarily we were doing. They wanted hits. While I think Warner Brothers Animation was doing very well, you know Animaniacs was doing well, they didn't care what it was, they wanted big hits. And well Freakazoid! , while it was doing really well with the critics and Steven was happy, it didn't fit in their wheelhouse.

09:34 Paul Rugg: They didn't really understand what they had. They had Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, they had the golden chest, in my opinion. And then they had the Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. I don't think they ever really truly understood what they had. The way Disney sort of takes care of their characters... I think for reasons that I've never really understood, I think that they didn't really understand the characters. And therefore you got things like Space Jam, which you might like Space Jam, but it was... I remember we all watching and we're like, "Oh my gosh, what are they thinking?"

10:12 Paul Rugg: When he formed DreamWorks, we still had, I think, some Freakazoids left to do, Animaniacs left to do, but we knew that, that sort of partnership was over. And then there was a lot of talk about us all maybe moving over. I think we all got interviews at DreamWorks when they were just starting it, we all went over there and had a meeting. And then some of us decided to go, some of us decided to stay. I was one who decided to stay because I really liked working for Ruegger, I really liked working for Jean MacCurdy. As far as bosses go, they didn't get any better.

10:54 Paul Rugg: We used to work at the Sherman Oaks Galleria, and there was this fountain where we would all... We would go down from the lobby and sit and talk, and I remember sitting there and somebody came up and said, "Hey, Steven's starting this big new thing." And we all went upstairs, and I don't think there was the internet then, but somebody got a copy of Variety and we read it. We're like, "Wow, this is big." And I think... As I recall, we were still doing the first season of Freakazoid! So I started putting that in some of the Freakazoid! Scripts, there's a Lord Bravery script that mentions DreamWorks. And in typical Warner Brothers fashion, we made fun of it because that was our job, so. Nobody was scared, I don't remember being scared because I remember we were really happy working at Warner Brothers and we really liked the anarchy there, but I think maybe people were ready to move on, to try different things.

11:53 Speaker 1: Peter Hastings was a writer who had his fingerprints all over Warner Brothers television animation. And this resume led to Disney putting him in charge of creating the vibe of Disney's, One Saturday Morning. He based the program around Bob McAllister's '70s kids show, Wonderama and Late Night with David Letterman. The colors were bright, the jokes were fast. And if you were wondering if an elephant could crush a blueberry pie with its foot, you could find out here. And within this wonderland train station was a man, a beacon of weirdness, an 11 on the dial, if you will. Manny the Uncanny.

12:32 Speaker 2: How's it going? I'm Manny the Uncanny today with the US Mint in Philadelphia to see how they make the coins. Come inside and don't be lazy. How does, how does, how does it... This is the build, large epoxy quarter. Here it is. This is touching, feelings. It transfered here, into this machine which is drilling it in there. It goes from shrunk down to this, which will make our coin.

12:53 Speaker 5: That's exactly correct.

12:54 Speaker 2: Wow, you learn... So much. Does Amos make you nervous? Okay Tim, now you're... Hey, I'm Manny the Uncanny. Do you ever wonder where all of your potty bits go when you flush them down? It comes here to the sewage treatment plant. Let's go talk to the head potty guy. Come in. Hey, hi there and all of that, this stuff. I'm Manny the Uncanny and today I am at the Bazooka Joe where... Sorry, Joe Blasco Cosmetics where we're going to learn about the make-ups. But not the make-ups for going to market or going to the fishing store, it's the makeup of scariness to be in the movie. So I tell you what, let's...

13:37 Speaker 1: Manny is delivered to each destination by a hot air balloon man, known as Mr. Lighter Than Air. He's suspended below the man's belly by cords that are similar to a baby's jumper. His glasses are thick, his suit God-awful plaid and he looks like a cartoon exiting a dynamite explosion. He's of course not the first bizarre children's TV show host. In fact, Linda Ellerbee and LeVar Burton come to mind as the only normality within this group. At the top of the list is of course, Pee-wee Herman. The voice, the suit, the bike. Strangely enough, his world is so off-kilter that Pee-wee, despite the odds, is the straight man in many of his scenes. A weirdo pointing to bigger weirdos and saying, "Isn't that weird?" In fact, Pee-wee Herman loves who he is and goes home to his amazing house filled with warmth and friends. He's undeniably happy. Manny, on the other hand, is desperately trying to relate in man-on-the-street segments with real people while having a complete inability to do so and lack of understanding of how to do it.

14:40 Speaker 1: And you can't imagine Manny going home to a magical talking chair. Instead his one counterpart is a mechanized cat puppet which you know Manny controls and voices. There's no magic, just desperation and loneliness. Because even though the shows are titled, "Manny Goes to the Mint" and "Manny at the United Nations", they might as well be titled, "Manny tries to make a friend." It's tragic comedy. This isn't Greek by any standard, but there is something incredibly human about this fictional farce that comes from Paul Ruggs's performance, which is real and grounded. But he's playing off the wall insanity.

15:20 Paul Rugg: Because we knew that Freakazoid! Was cancelled. So myself, and John McCann and Doug Langdale were developing a Daffy Duck show based loosely on the Larry Sanders Show where Daffy had his own extravaganza sort of like the old Carol Burnett Show. And it was sort of behind the scenes and in front of the scenes, and then it was clear that the WBJB counter didn't really want anything like that so that's when I decided to leave Warner Brothers. I had shot a couple of things for Peter Hastings who was... Who really wanted me to do Manny the Uncanny for One Saturday Mornings. Manny developed out of a thing I had been doing at Acme. He was this sort of washed up, cruise ship entertainer, he was the worst magician ever. So that's what I would sort of do on stage. And Peter always liked it, and I sort of always liked it, and the audiences always liked it. Which is why [laughter] I was more surprised than anyone that give me... Sort of said we should do it there but that's all Peter.

16:21 Paul Rugg: I mean Peter wanted to have fun, that sort of goes back to what we learned at Warner Brothers. If we think it's fun, hopefully it'll be fun. And then he said, "Well, maybe Manny should just go out and sort of meet people." a la Cole Huaser who was sort of a very famous guy on public television here who used to go out and visit with various people in the LA community. He would go to a bagel maker and spend time with the bagel makers. And we said, "Well let's do the same things." So Manny's segments basically became, where are the really weird places that we can go where Manny can be the world's worst interviewer. So he took a camera while I was working at Warner Brothers and decided to film some stuff of me doing Manny. I guess they really liked that. And I was writing the Daffy show when he asked me to come actually be Manny for the wrap arounds that they were doing, the on set, the whole digital set they had created. So I took two weeks off of Warner Brothers and filmed that. And then, came back to Warner Brothers. And then, I left Warner Brothers because they didn't pick up Daffy. And he called and just wanted to know if I wanted to come be a part of it.

17:38 Paul Rugg: I helped him pitch it. I remember sitting in front of the executives [chuckle] who were sort of horrified because I had dressed up in my whole Manny costume and I was, I was sort of doing my whole Manny act for them. And I don't remember them being very enthused that there was this really weird guy with funny hair in front of them, but. Which was, [laughter] which was kind of funny, but. They were liking it but they didn't wanna be a part of the Act, meaning, executives are very funny, they're like, "Great we like it, just don't put us in the position of having to sit there and be a part of this", they were just more like, "Don't look me in the eye, stop it" and so we was like, I think that day Peter and I learned a very valuable lesson. Never go pitch and sort of make those people you're pitching to part of the act. Because Manny was very abrasive he was very silly and I remember literally picking out people who we're pitching to and these are the big, big wigs and I'm insulting them and they were smiling but you could tell they wanted it to end like now.

18:51 Paul Rugg: Peter and I were having a great time I think we just did the whole thing, we were just having a blast we heard later that you probably shouldn't do that, but then we were Walt... Warners and we were more pushing the boundaries having some fun. Because I helped Tom Ruegger do the same thing at Warner Brothers when he was pitching Hysteria and he had me come as Nostradamus and do my whole act in front of the president of Warner Brothers and they were all very happy about it. So it's just a different culture at Disney it's a little more... I found it to be a little bit tightly wound, let's just say, and the Warner Brothers vibe was a little bit more it wasn't that I had never worked at Disney and so, and I was so stuck in that Warner Brothers we can do anything it never occurred to me that they wouldn't like it. So I was never surprised that we were getting away with it 'cause I didn't know that we were getting away with anything if that makes sense. I didn't know sort of what I know about Disney which is a fine company and stuff but they are definitely hands on and they want it done as a certain way, but back then I don't really remember knowing that.

20:09 Paul Rugg: Well after I left Warner brothers and did other things, I went back in for a meeting once when all of the people that I had sort of known were gone and it felt like walking into Disney and I remember going that's a shame. Because I think it was a very specific time a group of people got together and were just having a great time doing what they were doing. Manny works in very minimal doses. Anything beyond five minutes you sort of are like okay he's really beginning to annoy me which I love but no, we really didn't get any notes the biggest shout was stop screaming and that was it.

20:54 Paul Rugg: 'Cause Manny is very energetic and very sort of excitable and that is where I would play it on stage but when you put a camera like two inch in front of him it basically looks like he's gone insane. So we sort of modified him a bit and I wasn't quite sure how the bits were gonna cut together but we really lucked out and the first editor whoever took a crack at sort of putting the Manny's together was the lead editor on Waiting for Guffman and he was sort of in between gigs he just got this footage together in a way that was so surprising and fun that it really set the tone for all future editing then he eventually got busy and had to move on but we decided to sort of copy his style which was making the editing even more bizarre and it really worked. Peter Hastings and I came up with at Warner brothers and I have no idea why I think we were in the elevator, once and doing weird voices or doing something we came up with it's true.

22:00 Paul Rugg: And I have no idea where it comes from but I remember we just started giggling and then when he came in to say we need Manny song for his intro. I remember we wrote that in about 30 seconds, because we realized Manny didn't make sense so I remember, I just went into his office he goes, "I need this now". And we went in there we recorded it and that was it. I think we recorded at once it was just dumb and it made no sense, and It made us laugh and we're like okay we got that.

22:28 Speaker 2: Where are we going today miss Mr. Lighter than Air?

22:34 Speaker 6: Well, Manny some place wonderful.

22:40 Speaker 2: Hi there oh and happy days let's have some fun. And not be lazy it's true.

22:46 Paul Rugg: Yeah, I was trying to think about how Manny would get around and it just made me laugh my friend Mark Dropman was super, super, super funny guy I said I have this idea what do you think he goes, "That sounds great", so yeah, we filmed it I don't think we could get away with that now, but gosh it made us all laugh and I remember being in that harness and I think a couple of the execs might have come in and go, "Why are you in a harness?", I go, "Well I'm floating below Mr. Lighter than air." And they're like, "What the heck is that?"and I'm like, "Oh, never mind I think I've said too much already". So I don't think we would have the same budget today. We had this great makeup person and she always wanted to get Manny's hair perfect. So I think we went through literally 10 gallons of hair spray and she would sit and work on his hair and I remember that being like, Wow, I never thought anyone would be working on my hair. I remember they had been shooting a lot. They only needed me for a little bit. I came in one day and they said, "Stand here", and I was doing obviously my Manny thing very broad, very big, and the elephant wasn't liking it and they told me to not move so much 'cause the elephant was freaking out.

24:05 Paul Rugg: The trainer came over and said, "Really this elephant is about to kill you, so... " So, I might have changed a little bit. Maybe if you see it now because I hadn't seen if for years. But maybe you'll notice a very rather muted Manny who doesn't wanna get trampled by a very large elephant. I think maybe they separated me from the elephant at one point, but the elephant didn't like men. People, depending on who they were when they sort of saw what we were doing and how we were conducting the interview. And then was just all a bunch of fun, they really got into the fun. Some places didn't really like it. There was a... I remember we did something for the Egg Board of California. And we got... I think I got five minutes in to the interview, and they thought we were making fun of them and kicked us out. So, they literally put their hands in the in front of the camera and told us to leave because they thought... I don't know who they thought we were, but then as I just started airing, people were like, "Yeah yeah, you can come and do that." They saw that we were just having fun. But yeah, some people didn't really like it.

25:25 Speaker 1: Despite the Egg Board, most people seem to be enjoying themselves. They're in on the joke, which eliminates any cynicism. And they're as nice as they can be to Manny. It reaffirms acts of charity that deep down all people are good, or maybe they just wanna be on TV. Either way, it humanizes them. Likewise Manny never gets the best of someone. The ordinary people constantly try to help him understand. In the same way they would help an over-questioning kid understand. It's actually kinda sweet. The guy who is in charge of the State Quarters, or any of the knights at medieval times are for once, cooler than the TV personality, with Letterman, Conan, and Leno, that's never the case. Those are smart asses picking on the defenseless. While Manny is less than defenseless. It's this dynamic that provokes the wonderful moments in the sketches. In which an ordinary person who probably thought they had a lame job smiles. And it reads on their face "Yeah, I guess my job is pretty cool after all". As for Manny, there's a respite for the strange ones. In spite of everything, the security guard that Manny once feared... Well, see for yourself.

26:35 Speaker 2: Thank you very much. It's been a great pleasure. You wanna go get a soda or something?

26:44 Speaker 7: Sure.

26:46 Speaker 1: In that moment, there's hope for anybody weird, awkward, to meet at least somebody for a soda. Make sure to check out Paul Rugg's Freakazoid! Celebration Freak-A-Con on March 15th on Facebook Live.

[wobblyfet]

The Definitive Ranking of Villainous Pokémon Teams

With USUM just coming out and Team Rainbow Rocket being a thing, I thought I’d dig up a ranking I started a while ago!

7. Team Flare

Look, those outfits are snazzy. There’s no denying that. But… who the hell are these people? What’s their goal as a team of villains?

I mean, Lysandre talks about creating a more beautiful world because he thinks humanity is dumb. The qualifiers for what a more beautiful world exactly are is never made particularly clear, just that this involves the purging of everyone not in Team Flare. He gets a bit of backstory about having a genuine savior complex turned into radical disillusionment, but it doesn’t really cover how murky his goals are here. Like, what exactly is he objecting to about the ugliness of the world? Does he want to wipe out much of the world’s ecosystem with the laser beam of doom in their headquarters or just people? How does that work? And what is Team Flare?

I’m not sure at all what the organization of the rest of this team is. The grunt dialogue suggests getting in is quite expensive, and some of them seem pretty caught up in this whole beautiful world business. There’s suggestion Flare membership is kind of an issue of status. Much of both Lysandre’s and general dialogue about it do sort of resemble the dialogue from real world radical organizations, but the problem here is that radical ideologies tend to have a deeper surface rationale than what Team Flare’s deal is. They care about class elitism while also wanting to destroy what makes the world economy, and I don’t really know why these people would be more invested in genocide than, say, aggressively running a fashion line or a country club.

The problem for me probably boils down to how little depth this team is given. The grunts are just sort of there, admins are indistinguishable, and nobody has really any characterization except Lysandre and Malva, and even that’s pretty murky. Because of that, they fall flat as antagonists.

One thing I did like about them as villains: how Lysandre uses the Holo-Caster to spread his message. Having him pop up between videochatting your friends to monologue about purity and cleansing was genuinely disquieting. In this day and age, abruptly revealing that this world’s equivalent of a smartphone is actually a vehicle for ideological evil is intimidating and relevant.

Though, I gotta say, a Pokémon game is really not the place for Holocaust puns. Boo on that.

 6. Team Aqua

These guys are the only ones to seriously rival Team Flare’s stupidity. To begin with, looking at the original games, the whole hook of “More water! Yay environments for Water Pokémon!” is really bizarre in the context of a villainous team on Hoenn. Hoenn is a goddamn island, and at that one that is already thoroughly integrated with the sea. Why there would be enough radical water lovers in this area to warrant any a whole group obsessed with expansionism is kind of beyond me.

I do like that how the remakes broadened both Aqua and Magma’s motives, but… remixed Team Aqua is still incredibly dumb. They’re a radical group in defense of wronged Pokémon, which is cool, but the answer is to destroy the world and restore it to another primordial state? What? I’m no expert in environmental science but I’m pretty sure something like that would, like, definitely wipe out most Pokémon, including the ones that live in the sea. A questionable goal for a group purportedly all about saving wronged Pokémon.

And what’s the long-term plan here for the rest of the group? Is this destruction of the world like a death pact for the members or what?

Archie is entertaining, but let’s be real, he’s also pretty lame. Going so far as to recruit a potentially suicidal eco-terrorist cult only to chicken out when a big whale starts to make it rain is kind of pathetic.

Things that win Team Aqua villain points: fleshed out and entertaining characters in Archie, Shelly, and Matt. Also, pirates are cool.

 5. Team Galactic

I feel like Team Galactic started the trend in Pokémon games of there being apocalyptic stakes with the villains. A good Pokémon villainous team doesn’t really need to be world-destroying to work well as bad guys, as I’ll elaborate on below. That said, I would still put a big gap between Galactic and the bottom two teams, and I do generally like these guys.

Cyrus wants to create a new universe without pesky things like spirit or feelings. This makes enough sense for a villainous team in the context of Sinnoh, where a person can capture deities of space and time in Pokéballs. And I also quite like how the game contextualizes Cyrus as a villain of emotional abuse in his childhood- not to say this excuses him, but it adds a nice bit of depth.

Like the last two villainous teams, I have some questions about how exactly Cyrus’s goals translate to an ideology for an entire team of mooks, or, more importantly, how such a wet blanket of a leader convinced a legion of followers to run around Sinnoh in those embarrassing spacesuits. It’s never made super clear what the rest of Team Galactic is hoping to get out of the deal, but unlike Team Flare or Team Aqua, it’s easier to headcanon a large group of people being enticed by holding positions of power in a new world where, without any spirit, people and Pokémon might easily function as slaves.

Another thing I like: Cyrus’s eventual fate in the distortion world. No redemption, no dramatic downfall scene, just him eerily ranting about his ambitions as he wanders off into the netherworld. It’s creepy and sad, and fitting ending to his saga.

Overall, I don’t have strong feelings one way or the other about Team Galactic. It’s satisfactorily developed but comparatively not as interesting as other bad guys in this franchise.

Those team spacesuits, though. There’s no explanation for that.

 4. Team Magma

Look, this team suffers from a lot of the issues that their counterparts do. Namely, the way Maxie and his team just kind of fuck off very quickly after awakening Groudon. It’s sort of ridiculous to go so far to advance your villainous team only to give up so quickly. But, other than that, Team Magma is so much better.

To be fair, in the original Gen III games, their motives are pretty thin. However, for the same reasons Team Aqua doesn’t make much sense, Team Magma does. Hoenn is a tropical island in the middle of the sea that demands travelling through the sea and jungle to get anywhere. Hell, I spend enough time facing Wingulls and Tentacools on water routes and I’m ready to sign up. Or take a Team Magma pamphlet, at least.

I kid, but that’s mostly why I like Magma’s expanded motives in the remakes so much. In a world that’s obsessed with accommodating Pokémon and keeping balance with the environment, a reactionary group obsessed with human expansionism makes for realistic bad guys. And expanding land for development at the cost of the ecosystem is exactly what a group like that in Hoenn would focus on. To be clear, none of this is to say that Team Magma is condonable, or that Pokémon’s pro-environmentalist message is somehow a bad thing- it’s just that in this context, Team Magma would be one of the most plausible villainous organizations to come up.

I also quite like Team Magma’s characters. Maxie is a cool customer and exactly the type of smug asshole you’d expect to present an environmentally-unfriendly development plan at the corporate meeting, and Tabitha and Courtney are quite amusing. Updated Courtney in particular is weirdly charming, and I kind of hope we see more of her. And even though I just whined about how easily Maxie turns around and changes his mind, I don’t really think a redemptive ending for them is necessarily a bad thing. Isn’t an ending like that what most of us are trying to get from the Maxies of the real world driving our planet to ruin?

Anyways, if Magma started looking into building eco-friendly bridges across those damn water routes, I’d totally take a pamphlet. Just saying.

 3. Team Rocket/Neo Team Rocket

Team Rocket! The OG villainous team! And easily still the most iconic, over twenty years later now. They invented the Pokémon villainous team, and they surely deserve some props for that. That’s the whole reason Giovanni’s coming back as the leader of the super-villains, right? (I have some qualms about this, but more on that later)

Nostalgic factors aside, I think Team Rocket works quite well as an antagonistic force. I just praised Team Magma for being possibly the most realistic villainous team in the Pokémon world, but I really think that dubious honor should go to Rocket. These guys don’t want to end the world or build a new universe or anything like that; they see simple profit in Pokémon and are totally willing to go after that, whatever the cost. And with that, they’re able to function on a large scale and do terrible things.

Even without threatening the Pokémon world with apocalyptic aims, for my money they’re still demonstrably scarier than any other evil team in the series. Yes, Team Rocket will actually murder that Cubone’s mother, and they will mutilate those Slowpokes for profit, and they will mess up Magikarps with freaky radio wave experiments. For that reason, Rocket plots are more memorable than like anything else in the series.

And, like any evil organization worth its butter, they won’t fucking die. They’ll be reorganizing and spreading their tendrils to the underbelly of Johto and the Sevii Islands and now Alola. It’s totally plausible to me that a mafia with an eye for exploitative profit would have more lasting power than any of those other cults and become the villains of the Pokémon world.

They’re only at #3, though, and that’s because of one thing: Giovanni makes very little sense as a big bad boss.

I mean, he’s the shadowy kingpin of Kanto’s criminal underworld, and a gym leader? Isn’t a gym leader’s entire job to be a public official/stepping stone for up and coming trainers in the league? I’ve seen the meme of the one dude in Viridian City musing on the mystery of the gym leader while standing right next a sign that says “GYM LEADER: GIOVANNI”, but really, that’s actually, that’s a really strange problem for the team.

Because really, why would Giovanni think it’s a good idea to run a criminal syndicate from inside an establishment that literally asks for kids to come in and beat him, and then when it happens, be all like “Welp, that’s it for my criminal empire. Time to fuck off to the mountains.” It’s easily the most inexplicable downfall in the series.

I’m not sure why Neo Team Rocket in Johto wanted this guy back so desperately. And I know he’s leading Team Rainbow Rocket because he’s the most iconic legacy villain and all, but let’s be real, all those leaders probably could’ve picked someone more competent to be the evil superboss.

 2. Team Plasma/Neo Team Plasma

If I were in the Pokémon world and didn’t have the luxury of a video game screen’s distance, I would probably have some serious moral qualms about the whole catching, training, and battling system. I mean, like, PETA’s response to the Pokémon franchise is over the top and unintentionally funny, but the ethics of how you train Pokémon the only way the games let you is a fair thing to consider. Would the Pokémon world be better off without gyms and Pokéballs, really?

That’s the main reason I like Team Plasma. Their premise is more ideologically compelling than any of the other teams. Because, really, in the first four generations there’s a lot talked up about bonding between Pokémon and trainers and how the two built up the world through cooperation, but there’s really not much to indicate that this exchange is demonstrably preferable to Pokémon whose best interests might not, you know, involve forcible abductions and battling until passing out. Having a villainous team like Team Plasma let the franchise address this question in a thoughtful way, and I dig it.

It also let the Team Plasma grunts be some of the most gloriously awful hypocrites in the franchise. I still remember how absolutely infuriating it was to have all these twerps show up and obstruct me with Pokémon battles while getting all self-righteous about how battling this way was wrong, and how much I hated them all even though they had a valid point. I dig that too. A mix like that can be an ideal recipe for a good antagonist.

What really sells me on Team Plasma, though, is the family drama backing it all. N is great every time he shows up, with all his cryptic dialogue and struggles to do right by the creatures he loves. Pokémon never really had an anti-villain before and he was perfect for games as much about moral ambiguity and balance as Black and White were. Having someone intimately connected to Pokémon and their needs (I remember the chills I got when you first go in his room and see all the scratched-up toys) makes him ideal to communicate the message that good trainer-Pokémon relationships are a healthy reciprocal exchange where a trainer ideally pays attention to the needs of their Pokémon. It’s a nice message.

N adding moral ambiguity to the game is great, but the drop of Ghetsis as the true mastermind is a good one too. The extent of Ghetsis’s manipulation of N was damn chilling, and silly robe or not, adding the personal touch cements him as one of the most solidly awful main bad guys in the series. Child abuse is sort of a running theme in this franchise, and I oddly appreciate much of the way it’s featured- I mean, I don’t like it, but it’s a literary appreciation. In the case of Black and White, framing an ethical struggle of how to do right by your Pokémon against someone brutally exploiting that struggle for the sake of a power grab was effective.

(as an aside, I didn’t much care for the reveal that N wasn’t Ghetsis’s biological son. I feel like the game sort of treated the reveal as a “Guess what? Ghetsis wasn’t your legitimate father all along!” which isn’t great, since whether or not a child has blood relationship to their caretaker doesn’t actually have any bearing on said caretaker’s impact and moral responsibility as a guardian, and pretending otherwise reinforces a harmful message that adoptive parents aren’t somehow “real” parents. Not super important but it’s just a little thing that bothers me)

Team Plasma’s second appearance is honestly less memorable to me than the first, but I dig the whole team evolution and split between Ghetsis’s power grabby followers and N’s good-hearted followers. It gives the saga of Team Plasma a legacy development we’ve really only seen otherwise with Neo Team Rocket in Johto, albeit with a more epic bent.

The big unanswered questions- how the hell did Team Plasma end up a weird religious monarchy? (And who the hell are Anthea and Concordia?) I feel like demanding more practical details of the running of all these evil organizations than a game for children is realistically going to give us is a running theme in this ranking, but I care about these things, dammit.

 1. Team Skull/Aether Foundation

When I first made this ranking about a year ago, I gave first place to the Sun and Moon antagonists then too, but I wondered if it was recency bias speaking. But after a year of being less wrapped up in Gen VII than I was then, I can look back and say that these guys are the definitive #1 villainous Pokémon team. I make this announcement seriously and with perfect objectivity on the matter. No questioning or dissenting opinions will be tolerated in this house, silly nit.

I kid, of course. This is just an opinion-based list I wrote for my own amusement. But that said, I do think the antagonists this game gave us are easily a cut above everyone else on this list, just with what speaks to me.

Team Skull, to begin with, is everything. Everything from their designs to their dialogue to the way Alola treats them like a giant joke really feels like these guys were crafted with a lot of affection for them. They’re perfect for the Gen VII games because, like much else, it’s goofy and self-aware and just plain fun. I’ve seen footage of the grunt reacting in horror over you getting to say you don’t remember who they are several times now and it’s still hilarious.

But also like much of Gen VII in general, it swings back around with a surprising amount of depth. The more time you spend talking with grunts, you get more and more of the sense of a lost and displaced group of people turning with their comrades on a society that doesn’t have a place for them. A lot of this is framed around the failure in the Island Challenge, but really, it’s not hard to read more into all the possible reasons the Skull kids could have turned to crime than that, right? (and even if you just leave it at that, I do sort of wonder sometimes about how much value the Pokémon world puts on someone’s strength as a trainer. It seems like it might be a somewhat limiting way to run things, to say the least, but that’s a discussion for another day)

Anyways, Team Skull resonates with me for the same reasons that Magma and Rocket do- it’s a not inaccurate depiction of what kind of evil organizations would appear in a world that resembles our own. What many of the Skullsters describe reflects real life gang psychology remarkably well. The world doesn’t want you, because the normal standards (the Island Challenge) are too high, perhaps on top of not having food or money or being shut out socially for any number of bullshit reasons. But the gang has your back, and it’s gonna provide AND stand with you against the world. Hence the perpetuation of crime culture even when “better” life choices are there, and the emphasis on belonging and group loyalty. The way the story frames Team Skull along those lines gives you another totally plausible villainous group, but unlike Rocket or Magma, it does it in a way that frequently plays on your empathy.

Don’t get me wrong here, I definitely do not mean to paint Team Skull as a bunch of poor lil’ woobies who turned to crime because they had no agency to be better people. They’re still the villains here, after all. We see plenty in game of all the ways they’re earnestly terrible to Alolans, from generally being obnoxious punkasses who get in your way to vandalizing to stealing children’s pets to taking over Po Town. As funny as it is, I’m not totally sure why the denizens of Alola are as unconcerned with Team Skull as they are; taking over an entire goddamn town is nothing to sneeze at.

It’s just… surprisingly nuanced, is all. Team Skull can be a bunch of weenies, genuinely threatening, and have a kind of a tragic reality underneath it all at the same time. Walking through the barricaded ruins of Po Town, across all the belligerent patrollers or members just sitting in the rain, is eerie for more reasons than one.

Boss Guzma encapsulates all of it pretty well. He’ll gloriously ham things up every time he’s on screen, and he’ll bully anyone in his way, but the game also gives him some backstory and, eventually, room to express his standards and prove that he’s really not beyond redemption here. Because getting caught up in Lusamine’s sinister plots really always came down to wanting personal validation and what’s best for his Skull kids, more than a core desire to watch the world burn from Ultra Space. (I might just be a sucker for the Even Evil Has Standards trope, but even so)

I also love the moment where Plumeria decides to help you. It’s not a moment of redemption in the sense that she’s seen the light and decided to stop being a punk. Her MO doesn’t ever change at all; she fights you because she wants to protect her kids, and she comes to your side because she wants to protect her kids.

I love everything about Team Skull, but they’re only half the equation. Sun and Moon also gave us the Aether Foundation. Hoo boy.

Lusamine is my favorite main antagonist in the series. For my money, she’s easily the scariest. And not just because she fucking froze her favorite Pokémon in ice to admire them at her leisure forever. I mean holy fuck what was that and was anyone expecting a scene that horrifying in a game like this. But anyways… (shudders)

Lusamine is intimidating first because of the way she wraps herself in a veneer of civility and benevolence. I mean, it’s true that she gives off creepy vibes from the introduction, just like Lysandre, but the difference lies in just how much the Aether Foundation embodies the qualities of Pokémon Good Guys we know so well at this point. They want to protect the ecosystem and, for Lusamine, it comes from a place of love. But it takes a while to figure out just how messed up that understanding of love is.

Lusamine’s love bubble is about what she can control, and when what she loves deviates from her expectations, she reacts with physical and emotional violence. Because underneath it all, she’s an astonishingly selfish person who puts her loved ones in danger by association. She treats her love for vulnerable parties as a tactic to mold them into whatever she wants, even to horrifying ends (permafreezing Pokémon who probably loved and trusted their trainer), and treats love as a commodity that can be withheld as a punishment and an excuse for doing whatever she wants in retribution. She can take advantage of Team Skull, and more horrifically, Nebby and her children, and eventually end up at critical self-indulgence in Ultra Space because all the world has failed to meet her impossible standards for love and therefore deserves to be razed by her deadly interdimensional pet jellyfish.

I mentioned in the last entry how child abuse is something of a running theme in the Pokémon franchise, and Lusamine brings the most intimate and thoughtful depiction of it yet. It winds up with Gladion lost and caught up with criminals he doesn’t even like associating with and turns cold. Lillie ends up working very hard, by way of new positive social bonds, to overcome the complexes association with her mother forced into her. In the end, both get to symbolically save themselves and stand up to Lusamine’s abuse. It touched me in a place I would have never expected a series like Pokémon to reach.

Lusamine is the fucking worst, but… I appreciated how the games even gave her backstory and space for empathy, too. The lady had a hard deal herself, and after losing your partner that way, it’s understandable that someone would end up obsessed with control and selective about love. She’s still terrible, mind you, but it’s worth seeing where something like that is coming from. And also, I really appreciated that even when her kids are breaking free and standing up, how they still sort of love each other. I loved Lillie’s monologue on Exeggutor Island about how her mother wasn’t all bad all the time, and they have good memories. It’s a realistic outcome for abuse victims to think that way, really. Lusamine’s concept of love is horrifying and unconstructive, and the fact Lillie loves her isn’t going to stop her from resisting her mother’s mind games, and the mere existence of familial love between them isn’t going to come close to fixing just how much in the wrong Lusamine is, but it’s there. It’s more unexpected thoughtfulness it would have been easy not to include, and I’m very glad it’s there.

I also love how Lusamine, like N, addresses in a meta sense some of the moral quandaries the format of Pokémon lends itself to. Because yeah, realistically, the average player is going to be kind of similar to Lusamine- we see Pokémon as ideally under our control and as decorative collectibles to be frozen in the game file indefinitely when we don’t need them anymore. And just like Lusamine, our reaction to seeing a brand new interdimensional jellyfish of doom (or the like) is going to be “I’ve got to get that.” The value of an antagonist like Lusamine is to show how this way of playing Pokémon absolutely cannot be extended to your living, real life relationships.

If I have one criticism of the Skull/Aether coalition as bad guys, it’s probably that the rest of the Aether Foundation is rather opaque. One minute they’ll be serving the wholesome environmentalist mission, and the next they’ll be attacking you with evil grins under Lusamine’s orders. Exactly how much the members knew about and were chill with Lusamine’s secret agendas or how this was dealt with after her downfall was never something that was really addressed.

(Also, screw Wicke. That woman was clearly aware of both how Lusamine was abusing her kids and the shady things the foundation was up to, and why it was wrong, but she still supported it all by working as an Aether executive. I would have hoped you’d get to kick her oily butt like you do with Faba to teach her a lesson about passive complacency in evil activities, or at least see her get a verbal slap on the wrist, but apparently not)

Overall, though, I have a hard time nitpicking when the good parts are so thoughtful and meaningful to me. It’s with this that I’m proud to declare these the top baddies! Woo!

Anyways, that’s it for the definitive ranking! I had fun with this. Will Rainbow Rocket be more or less the sum of its parts? I can’t wait to find out!

[dieuleveut]

January 22nd, 2018

Hooty hoo. We had unprotected sex, and he’s admitted that he’s in love with me.

It’s almost wild how parallel he is to Matt, or maybe I’m just under the ex bias. Where you’re still not quite over your ex, because everything about the new guy reminds you of the last guy. But I don’t think that’s it.

On Friday, we had a triple threat date. We got coffee at Leaves ‘n Beans and it was a nice, cute chat. A few awkward silences here and there but nothing major we could fault ourselves for. The Peoria Tower was within our view and he suggested that we go walk up there and check out the view. We left the coffee shop around 5:30pm. When he picked me up an hour earlier, I decided not to bring a coat since it wasn’t that cold. But now a brisk wind had picked up. He noticed and asked if I wanted to borrow his jacket. Kindly (proudly), I refused. It wasn’t that cold. The tower was closed, so we just ended up walking to our next date spot: Cayenne. It was a niche little Mexican fusion restaurant. Lots of great decor and overall a fantastic ambiance. Again, conversation was nice and cute. He’s got a dangerously infectious smile.

Afterwards, we drove through the Peoria Heights, looked at some nice buildings. I’m trying to show off my House Hunter skills and describe what certain house styles are. He doesn’t know what a Victorian house looks like, and I’m thinking “how do you not? It’s such an eye sore lmao.”

We drove to Family Video, rented The Omen. We get to my apartment. The movie doesn’t work. We make out. After some strong deliberation on my part and tired of making out to the intro screen of The Omen, I invited him back to my room. Mostly to make out, but one thing lead to another and we’re giving each other head. He eats pussy like a champ. Seriously. Like his life depended on it. Oh my god. I returned the favor, but started getting tired. And while he said he liked it, I’m sure my style is too gentle for his taste. And again, things got heated and we just said, “fuck it let’s fuck.” He didn’t bring a condom and tbh I hate condom sex. So yeah, unprotected. Didn’t so much as ask him about STDs. Made him swear to pull out. Thank god he did, but jesus did he blow a load! It was dark and I couldn’t see where he all came, but I felt something splatter on left eye and all over my stomach. I know I should be grossed out, but I think I like being covered in cum. Hooty hoo.

We hung out for a bit, trembling and sweaty and tired, before he left. Then I spent the rest of the night wondering or worried what was going to happen next. Mostly, I was concerned about possible pregnancy. I scooped a finger in there a few times to make sure I didn’t pull out any semen. I honestly couldn’t tell enough to ease my mind, so I made a firm decision to get Plan B the next day. I spent most of the night googling whether or not I should, and finding cheaper alternatives since Plan B is damn near $50. Understandably so. You wouldn’t want it cheaper, then people would be buying that shit like candy.

So I prepared to just maybe have this be a one night stand. I had admitted to him what happened with Matt, how Matt cheated on me. I opened up to this guy and he got his smashing time so maybe he was done. I was going to be okay with that. Not that I was. No no I wanted to continue to have a good time with this guy. But I know how the stories go. I didn’t want to be disappointed.

But the next day, he texts me asking to hang out again. And he specifically says that he doesn’t want to fall into sex every time we hang out. He genuinely wants to bond, cuddle and be with me. That makes me so happy! So I invited him over yesterday even though I was planning on a Saturday just for myself. I’d been up since 8am and reasonably tired, but I thought I had enough energy to hang out with him. He didn’t tire me out. He gave me energy.

We watched Scott Pilgrim on my computer, kissed and cuddled during the movie. Afterwards, we got a little lost in each other’s limbs. You know? When you just kind of lay on top one of another? Head on a shoulder, head on a stomach, buried face in hair. And we just talked. It was flirting, chatting, being. Then the talk got serious. I could tell that he had had an “uh-oh” moment.

“You’re not...falling for me, are you?” I asked. He got quiet. Broke eye contact, covered his face in his elbow. Softly, he replied, “Yeah.”

Shit. Shit, this wasn’t supposed to happen. This was just supposed to be a fun thing, a good time, a nice memory. This wasn’t supposed to be a THING. And then he said something that legitimately triggered me because I could swear Matt had said the exact same thing.

“What if I don’t want to just be a memory? I don’t want us to just forget about each other when you leave.”

I told him that I just wanted to have a good time, and he got visibly upset. He did the same thing Matt did. He stopped talking to me. He shut off. He turned around, put his socks on as if he was about to leave.

I could almost feel as though this may be the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. Gotta have some good last words. “I’ve had a good time with you. If I never see you again, just know that I really enjoyed hanging out with you.”

It took him a bit to respond (man, do Aries have a way with pregnant pauses), but he turned over and asked why I bothered to go out with him in the first place then. I started crying, “What am I supposed to do? Not make friends while I’m here? Am I supposed to just shut myself off from everyone so I don’t hurt anybody after I leave? Is there something so wrong with just wanting to make good memories with people while I’m here, without having to make it SOMETHING.”

“No, no, I’m sorry that’s not what I meant,” he went for me. Fuck. I hate it when I cry in tense conversations. I know I’m a cute crier and it’s hard to hate me when I cry. I tell him to not pity me but I didn’t get the point across. I think crying in front of him made him fall more in love with me.

I don’t know how the conversation waned out, but he ended up snuggling the back of his head on my stomach, his body resting between my thighs. I stroke his hair as we talk. I start, “Maybe it’s better that I’m not staying in Peoria for any longer than I am. That way we won’t get more attached and won’t--”

“Wait, what do you mean?” He turns to look at me. Fuck, I think I’m putting my foot in my mouth again. Stop it.

“Never mind. Nothing.” I pull an Aries move on an Aries, see how you like it.

So the night ends well. We make out for a little bit more and he leaves, but not after a loooong Minnesotan goodbye. I also need to stop trying to start the same inside jokes with Eric that I did with Matt. I tried to reintroduce “henlo” and the Minnesotan goodbye. I said to Eric “you’re so snuggly/cuddly” the same way Matt used to say to me.

Anyway, this is a long entry. My bad. Mostly for formatting it in novel-style. That’s just how I’d like to picture yesterday. Now, today, things are more tense. I haven’t seen him all day but we had been texting pretty consistently, until he brought up that he missed me. He felt shitty without me. He felt that his feelings towards me were making him irrational. And I’m sitting here thinking...fuck. This is a parallel with Matt again. The same paradox. Do I fuck this guy up/over by just being concerned with my own personal happiness and just having a good time with him, while he just hurts at home, he hurts when we’re not together? Or do I actually do what I should’ve done with Matt, and cut him loose earlier rather than later? White-fang him? Break his heart now so it doesn’t hurt so much later?

Why are they both so adamant on not being a memory? Isn’t everyone a memory to someone? I mean, the only people who aren’t “just memories” are those who are a part of someone’s daily life. Like family, or a spouse and children. Even then, my family is a memory to me. I rarely see them or speak to them and most often i find myself looking back on my childhood or my younger years. I love memories. So I just don’t understand the whole anti-memory thing with Matt and Eric. Someone please explain.

So I tried to white-fang Eric. I told him, “If I’m hurting you by not being with you, then maybe I’m not good for you.” If I wanted to get metaphorical with it, maybe I’m like a drug to him like I was to Matt. It’s easy to say yes to me in the moment, but once I’m gone, I’m going to hurt like a bitch. And the more you say yes, the harder it’s going to hurt later on. Maybe like sinking your teeth into fresh concrete. If you pull out now, you might be fine. But if you wait too long, you’re going to lose teeth and it’s going to hurt like hell. So I thought maybe it’s best to pull out now.

He responded, “I like you a lot. I wanna to move to LA with you and we just met. You’re not hurting like I am, it seems. Yeah, I’ll just talk to you later.”

Then I thought it was over. I let it seep in. That was his goodbye. I thought to myself, wow so you were so obsessed with not being a memory that you just made yourself a bad one.

And BELIEVE IT OR NOT, he texted later tonight saying, “If I’m going to be a memory to you, I want to be a good one, not bad.” Can he read my mind?!

And thus, I am in another dilemma. I white-fanged him already, and that took a lot of my emotional strength. Do I attempt to white-fang him again? At the moment, my thought is that I would love to see him again, but only if I know that he won’t hurt afterwards. Only if I know that he is also down to have a casual good time. I don’t want to see him if it’s just going to hurt him. He shouldn’t worry about how I feel. I’m good at burying my feelings. That doesn’t mean they’re not there, I just pretend they’re not. Plus, we’d only met on Wednesday. I need more time to fall into someone else. That person would have to become an integral part of me, of my day and my life. I like him, but jesus, I don’t love him and I wouldn’t stay in Peoria for him (the inverse of what he would do for me.) Oh fuck, what to do.

The funny thing is, I have fantasized about this exact scenario. I played out before my dreams the idea of casually meeting someone from Tinder, and have him accidentally fall in love with me while I play the distant, emotionally unavailable one. Maybe he would angrily make me confront my fear of feelings, outing me for my romantic faults. I would mull over his rant, every word of his hitting me at my core. Then one night, I would rush over to his place, drenched in rain and tears, telling him he was right and that I was wrong to avoid my feelings. We kiss and the world is a happy ending.

Hard to imagine that happening in the span of a week and a half. Plus, that would be really inconvenient.

---

11:42pm

Basically, it’s over. I told him that he should think of me as a good time and move on after I leave and he got pissed, saying “people aren’t something you play with and leave behind.” He also told me that if I didn’t see him as a future partner, he wouldn’t see me. And I mean, honestly? Good! The fact that this guy was asking me to consider him a future partner (!!!) in the span of less than a week?! What in the actual irrational fuck. So yeah. White-fanged and ghosted. Just. I hope he finds peace.

Me on the other hand? I’m quickly disappearing back into my depression. Work kept me busy, but I arranged a therapy appointment with my counselor Jacob from my Bradley time last year. Then I texted my mom, asking if she would be willing to help me pay for the one visit. This lead to her prying into “why? why don’t you talk to me instead? why can’t you just speak with papa and i? You’re making me feel like a bad parent.” I just. Why do I even bother? I ask her to help me pay for something regarding my mental health and she makes it about her parenting skills. I understand, I just wish she would too.

Then she calls me tonight, about an hour ago. Sure, why not? I’ll pick up the phone. And again, she’s judgmental. She’s opinionated.

“See? Remember I told you you shouldn’t get into a relationship while you’re there? You can come back home, live here for the next chapter of your life. I don’t understand why you have this depression; you have a good family, a good job, a good life. I just don’t get it. Just get over it. Everybody gets depressed sometimes and they just work past it. Maybe you should talk to Papa. What does this guy even say that makes him so good huh? The therapist.”

After some yelling and arguing with her, I just shut off. “Whatever. Love you. Bye.”

I cried on my bed. I called Sophie over and had her lie on top of me while I cried. I laid there, cold and unmoving. Until finally I decided to at least function and take care of myself. I took a shower. The hottest I could bear. Then I switched the knob to spout into a bath. Hottest bath I could bear. I let my tears melt into the hot water, losing myself in the heat searing into my skin. It was the only thing I could feel, the only thing that made me feel, was the burning of the hot water. I laid down, sunk my head underneath the water, the pressure popping in my ears. I could try to drown myself like people do in movies, right? But the water escaped into my nostrils and I quickly sat up, coughing up water through my mouth and burning through my nose. I’m hoping a brain-eating amoeba made it into my bath water somehow and is now living in my brain. At least that would explain why I feel so dead in the head lately.

Then...then I couldn’t stand the heat any more and stood up. I turned on the shower head and blasted cold water all over my body. The change in temperature threw me for a shock. I could feel my head getting dizzy. I propped my hands against the cold shower tiles, making sure I didn’t collapse somewhere my skull could crack onto. It felt...that’s it. It just felt. It woke me up a little but all I wanted was to physically feel something.

I sat back down in the hot water. It felt funny, my bottom half warm and my top half cold. Finally, I got out of the shower/tub. Forced myself to eat something, even though the thought of food made me nauseous. I dry heaved a little. This is not happening again. I will take care of myself. Maybe pretend as though one side of myself had a lobotomy, and the other self has to take care of her. I don’t think I’d mind that. A lobotomy. How different could it be from me now?

I wanted to cut myself again. Not on the wrist. Just a prick on the thumb or a slice on my palm. And I thought to myself, I wanted to do that because 1) I wanted to feel something and 2) maybe cutting myself is a way of giving me a reason to feel shitty. You know? A visible scar that says “hey i feel like shit.” Because otherwise, if there’s no scars, no blood, people hear that I’m depressed and ask, “...why?” But if I’ve got something to show for it, maybe they’ll start understanding.

Fuck. I feel like such an emotional middle schooler. Just give me a lobotomy. Then this can be as simple as possible. No complexities. No emotions. Just nothing.

----

2:48am (literally a minute after I finished the last post)

Haha I just reread the entry from January 18th and I just need to say that I’m so amused by the irony.

“With Eric, maybe these two weeks won’t be enough time to cultivate strong feelings. We’ll just remain in that honeymoon phase without having to worry about the future.”

Nope, bad luck be with me, the boy developed feelings on the second/third date and is considering moving to LA with me. Of course he did. Of course.

[hencethebravery]

Title: “The Spooky Truth with Dr. Jones,” (1/2)

Summary: Emma Swan is a podcaster looking for a semi-interesting story. Dr. Killian Jones is a paranormal investigator who doesn’t believe in the paranormal. Emma Swan absolutely does not want to write this story—but it seems to be writing itself. A CS Black Tapes AU.

Notes: This delightful little AU was 100% inspired by The Black Tapes, a seriously awesome fictional horror podcast that you can listen to for free. Which you should. Right now. I’d like to thank and/or notify a # of awesome people who helped with this: @seastarved @zengoalie @ofshipsandswans @abbadons-little-witch @the-reason-to-sail-home @businesscasualprincess @swanandapirate (who also wrote a podcast AU, so if you like this, you should probably check it out). Also on Ao3.

+ Honestly, the worst thing about this job is the constant threat of, “You have a face too pretty for radio,” every time she has to conduct an interview with some bland fuck-boy that the country has suddenly decided is worth her time. If not for the occasionally tedious subject matter and overeager interviewees, it would be damn near perfect.

It’s certainly odd, considering how long she’d spent trying to make herself invisible; avoiding friends and relationships in exchange for the blissful quiet of self-imposed isolation, all while maintaining her carefully constructed state of emotional constipation.

“They’re not my friends,” trying to explain to her producer, David, “they’re my subjects.”

Snorting, with an affectionate rolling of his eyes, “That’s awfully sentimental of you, Emma.”

“Except you,” her words starting to run sloppily together, resting a warm, heavy arm around his neck, “you’re a regular ‘prince charming.’”

“Yeah, yeah,” brushing off the compliment but she can see it in his eyes, how much he cares, and while it still makes her vaguely uncomfortable, it’s nice knowing there’s somebody in her corner. “Let’s get you to bed, ‘princess.’”

It was supposed to be a one-off episode, part of a larger story about people and professions and why we do what we do to get by—defining ourselves through our work, that kind of thing. She had done a few episodes already; one on geo-caching, another one focusing on a lady who actually got paid to paint the claws of people’s cats. And that was when David had gently knocked on her office door and told her about a conference about the paranormal going on at the local college, and would she, maybe, like to attend?

 She had been in the midst of sorting through a rather demoralizing gallery of neon-colored cat toenails when he’d made the suggestion, so it wasn’t hard to imagine the gusto with which she flew out of her chair; oversized bag of gum, phone chargers, and pencils swung over one shoulder, her knee-length boots half-zipped up her calves, “Yeah,” she answered excitedly, “I’m on it!”

“Dr. Killian Jones is handsome,” she speaks into her dictaphone later that night, an unfamiliar vibrato of excitement painting her words, “there’s no point in denying it. I won’t have my young, impressionable female listeners hanging on his every lovely, accented word thinking this guy isn’t as good looking as he sounds.”

 She considers the, frankly, unreal color of his stupidly blue eyes and continues, “But I don’t want there to be any kind of confusion. Dr. Killian Jones is a real dick.”

The lecture hall is louder, busier, and fuller than she’s ever seen it before. She’s taken a few classes here, attended a few events, and she can say with absolute confidence that this campus has never seen such a to-do in all its many, stuffy years.

The hall is a diverse mix, but there's an unusually large amount of tittering freshmen, and she can't help but feel as if she might be missing something.

She puts that exact question to a rather excitable group of young women (and men), all of them clutching copies of the same book. It's large, hardcover, she can barely make out the thick, dramatic eyebrows of the author on the back.

“So, uh, what's with the crowd?”

A young man wearing bold, square frames and a bowtie covered in tiny ghosts answers incredulously, “How can you not know?”

 “Don't be rude, Jefferson,” interrupts a small, dark-haired brunette, her lipstick a bright, fire engine red. “Dr. Killian Jones,” she answers happily, handing Emma a copy of her book, “expert in all things fucked up and certifiably creepy.”

 Emma skims the almost revelatory reviews on the back as the girl continues, “The accent and the eyes don't hurt either.”

 “Not a damn bit,” the kid with the bowtie, Jefferson, mumbles under his breath.

 Emma releases a sigh. There's no point in being coy, she'd actually been excited about this. Turns out it's nothing more than an academic peep show.

 “You should stick around,” the girl comments carefully, her grin shrewd, “I don't think you'll regret it.

“Here’s the thing about me,” she reflects carefully, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from her fingertips, “I’m skeptical, but I don’t begrudge people their beliefs.”

It probably has something to do with the absolutely devastating, trope-tastic childhood that she carries around with her like a brand. All those years yearning for some kind of “happily ever after,” when really it was just one bleak foster home after another, disappointment upon disappointment upon disappointment. But for a while? It was all that had kept her going.

“I would have given up otherwise,” a dry sniff, a cough that attempts to hide an unwelcome truth, “no matter how idealistic—stories… even the crazy ones, were everything.”

She pauses the recording, takes another swig of the warm beer in her hand, and pictures Killian Jones’ smug face, stiff blazer, and distinctly non-professorial jewelry. Recording.

“Asshole.”

“But what’s wrong with letting people believe what they believe…? If it brings them comfort?”

Emma’s sure this kid couldn’t look anymore nervous if she tried, the flushed cheeks and shaky hands an obvious betrayal of her adoration and fear of this guy. Sure, the deep, dulcet tones of his voice were what radio jockeys dreamed of, and yes, maybe the black stud in his ear managed to convey so authentic a quality that it had to be seen to be believed, but still—the all-knowing grin and perfect teeth were undoubtedly punch-worthy.

“I would never want to deny someone their comfort,” he begins gently, a charming twinkle in his eye, “but there’s quite a bit more at stake, love—”

Impossibly, the girl blushes even deeper as he continues, “Your intentions, while quite admirable, they undermine the integrity of scientific fact, and in this day and age, well…”

He laughs and the entire room joins in, even the girl who had asked the question, and Emma can’t help but feel that if she were to pull her aside at the end of the night, she would have insisted that he had done her some kind of favor.

Unsurprisingly, the rest of the night seems as if it will continue in much the same way. The guy has an answer to absolutely everything, and nothing has gotten under her skin more. He’s unshakeable in his rightness, in the certainty of his argument and his devotion to the truth with a capital “T.”

 It would be almost admirable if it wasn’t so obviously a lie.

She decides to conduct street interviews the next day, nothing too formal, just the usual method of stopping folks on the street, inquiring after their views about the supernatural; make sure they feel comfortable and get honest, usable content.

“And you don’t think this tone of yours will influence their ‘honesty?’” David asks slyly, his smile familiar and deliberate and she’s had just about enough of how well he knows her sometimes.

“What tone? I just wanna prove to the guy that maybe he’s a little bit wrong about things.”

“No,” he laughs, shuffling around a pile of folders on top of his desk, “you want to humiliate him.”

“That would be unprofessional.”

“And no one would ever accuse you of that.”

She very professionally admits that she manages to speak with a handful of people who would agree with Dr. Killian Jones. They find belief in the supernatural, the magical, the unbelievable, to be a failing of the human mind, not a strength. A few of them even mentioned him by name, “That doctor, you know,” and she had to physically stop herself from recoiling, “the one with the accent. He’s got the right idea.”

But there’s also the vast majority of people who harbor some kind of belief in the unknown, even if it’s the teeniest, vaguest inkling—they want to believe, “And it warms the cockles of my cold, dead heart.”

It’s his answer to the last question that really seals the deal—acting as confirmation of the steadily growing theory that there’s a lot more to Jones’ “mission” than he’d like his enamored audiences to believe. It’s when the story that Emma Swan has started to write in her head goes from “so-so” to “award-winning.” It’s also when she gets the small blotch of ink on her face.

She’s just about ready to throw in the towel, hasn’t been able to stop anxiously chewing on the cap of the pen she had shoved into her mouth to keep from groaning at all of his well-crafted answers, when a stern-faced, well-dressed woman stands to speak.

Her voice seems to ring unusually loud in the suddenly hushed auditorium, and Emma’s eyes immediately swivel to the doctor’s face, which has, almost indiscernibly, shifted from charming to mildly concerned. Interesting.

“Yes, I have a question, Dr. Jones.”

He adjusts slightly in his seat, straightening the lapel of his blazer and clearing his throat, “Of course, darling, have at it.”

“You seem to have so many answers, and you’re so knowledgeable about all of these incomprehensible matters, I just have to know—”

“At this point, I’m so freaking enraptured by this ladies’ pantsuit, it’s all I can do to keep my butt in the seat,” there’s now a few empties strewn about the floor as she paces excitedly back and forth, her finger manically tapping against the side of the recorder, “In fact, I was so interested in this question that I happened to get pen ink all over my face,” she pauses, “but that’s neither here nor there. Point is, this lady stands up and says—”

“What happened to Milah Gold?”

A new, almost threatening kind of silence falls over the room. It had been “hushed” when Miss Pantsuit had stood up initially, but truthfully, there was still a smattering of noise you might usually attribute to normal human movement; the rustling of a candy wrapper, a small cough or shared whisper between friends, but the silence in the wake of this particular question, is, well, it’s almost spooky, isn’t it?

It’s like a vacuum has sucked all the air from the room, especially when you consider the fact that Jones’ face is so red it’s almost purple. His lips tighten and move together as if he’s about speak… and that’s when the goddamn lights go out.

“No shit?” David asks, distracted over the phone, his voice tinny and distant. She can hear Mary Margaret and the baby in the distance, the sound of a live studio audience clapping in time with his wife’s sickeningly sweet singing voice.

Emma’s own voice is high and fast as she walks quickly back to her car, a near-frigid October breeze whipping her hair into a frenzy against flushed cheeks, her boots still charmingly unzipped around her legs. “David, it was fucking wild. The lights went out.”

“So you said,” he laughs and says something to the baby in a squeaky, high-pitched voice she can’t help but roll her eyes at, “So, uh, you think there’s a story here?”

“Fucking hell, David, yes, yes, I think there’s a story here.”

“Well, you know I trust you,” Emma holds her breath as she stares at the strange, excited expression on the face of the woman reflected in the semi-frosted glass of her car window, “Go for it.”

It takes her a moment to realize that in the time spent walking from the lecture hall to her car, she’s somehow depleted all of her oxygen, and she has to quickly inhale before responding. Not to mention the fact of that damnable spot of ink still barely noticeable on the high apple of her stupid cheeks and she knows David’s waiting for an answer but it’s the freaking principle of the thing. She’s already about to lose a few cool points, with her back now resting heavily against the door of the VW, summoning the courage to be emotive for once in her pathetic life.

“Thank you, David. Seriously, I mean it.”

“No need to thank me,” he answers gently, “Emma Swan always gets her man.”

It will pain her to admit it, but there’s little room to exaggerate when she later tries to describe the undeniable smoothness of Dr. Killian Jones after the absurdly dramatic disruption of his, so far, grossly successful night of win, after win, after win. There’s some light shrieking and girlish giggling in the darkness of the auditorium, and Emma’s almost positive there’s a hand lost up a skirt somewhere, but as soon as the lights come up a few minutes later, it’s as if the whole thing never happened.

Pantsuit hasn’t plopped her proper butt back into her seat, but there’s a grin on Jones’ face that almost makes her believe he had planned the whole thing to catch her out. He makes some crack about the auditorium being haunted, “But don’t quote me on that,” winks, and turns those insane eyes back on the witch (Because she’s gotta be, right?) in the third row.

“The matter of Milah Gold’s disappearance is still up for a debate,” he answers firmly, succinctly, “and in all fairness I’m not quite certain why you would bring it up here.”

The witch in business attire takes a seat after that perfunctory response, and then, finally, after an almost masturbatory few hours in which Dr. Killian Jones manages to elevate himself to a pedestal so high she’s certain his body would explode on impact were he to do the whole world a favor and fling himself off, Emma Swan remains carefully still in her seat, waiting for the adoring fans to file out. Her recorder waits impatiently in the pocket of David’s denim jacket, at least three sizes too big, and she’s secretly yearning for the red leather number lost under her bed somewhere.

The pencil she’d tugged out of the rat’s nest on top of her head is tapping restlessly against her knee and goddamn, does she just want to get this guy alone. And she’s preparing herself because she just knows at this point, that when she gets within a hair’s breadth of his stupid face, he’s going to smell amazing—like warm, decadent cologne and expensive coffee. And she’s going to stare at his lips and her knees will undoubtedly quiver at the way he says… words.

“Come on, Emma,” she whispers furiously, wiping the unattractive, crusty remnants of old, useless sleep gathering at the corners of her eyes, “let’s give this guy something he’ll actually be afraid of.”

Whichever marketing firm designed August Booth’s website is a freaking genius.

“Well,” he laughs, blushing slightly, “thank you, Miss Swan.”

She meets him at his office in a town called Storybrooke, about an hour south of Portland, and calling it quaint would be an understatement. The people in this town would appear to be so close they’ve got a running schedule for everyone else’s daily fiber intake, and she wants to leave almost as soon as she arrives.

“So, it’s gotta be the pie or something, right?”

The guy’s charming, she’ll give him that, if not a bit… empty. Which is vague, she knows, and she’ll have to revise the language at a later date, but when she considers his laughter in her room later that night it’s the first word that’ll come to mind. Empty ideas, empty gestures, just… he’s there, but no one’s really home. Dr. Jones is a dramatic, performative jackass, there’s absolutely no doubt—but what’s not up for debate is his passion. The man obviously cares. Now, exactly what he cares about and why? That’s up for discussion.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” smiling, but again, it’s all a bit off.

“Small towns like this,” she explains, “a lot of the time the reason people give for sticking around. It’s a signature dish or an old, anthropomorphic tree or something.”

“Ah,” he answers, turning around to face a large, imposing bookcase, “it does have... something.”

When she says “large,” she means floor to freaking ceiling. Emma’s got bookcases that David has called “large,” and she snaps a picture on her phone because this? This is large. Not only does it extend from the persian rug-covered floor to the water-stained ceiling, the thing is the width of the entire wall, one end to the other. Every shelf, every inch of available space is occupied, either with books, VHS cases, manuscripts, or various occult objects you couldn’t pay her to actually touch (she’s not so much with the tempting of fate).

“Jesus, does it spin around, too?”

She might pretend he doesn’t flinch at the Jesus-bomb, but regardless, he smiles again, of course, and makes some kind of Scooby-Doo reference she chooses to ignore.

He’s kinder up close and she wants to die. Basically. The anger is harder to use when she can see how fucking sweet he’s being to the gaggle of students hanging around, how he’s actually listening to their questions and comments instead of continuing the performance she had watched him perfectly execute on stage.

“I understand where you’re coming from, truly,” his hand pressed firmly, earnestly against his own chest, “but I’ve seen the damage it can do, and I have to take my own comfort in what I can actually see.”

He offers yet another winning, gentle grin, signs a few more books, confirms or denies a few more rumors, and she watches, entranced, as he collapses into his seat with a sigh. She almost feels bad for the guy. Almost.

“I know you’re there,” he starts kindly, his arm flung tiredly over his eyes, “no worries, love, I won’t bite.”

“What’s with the pet names?” she asks sweetly, dropping heavily into the seat across from him, “Does the tenure let you get away with that?”

He seems to lose his balance even though he’s seated, surprised at the vaguely mean, pointed quality of an older voice, “You’re not a student.”

“And you are very smart,” she responds kindly, her own smile adopting the least genuine feeling of kindness she can hope to convey, dragging her press pass out from beneath her flannel, “Emma Swan, ACRS.”

“Radio?”

The inviting, gentle nature she had witnessed earlier seems to have evaporated and there’s a part of her, a small, small part, that kind of hates what she’s about to do. As if it would kill her to make another friend.

“It’s a podcast.”

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“It’s radio. Look, don’t you think it’s just a little bit strange that—”

“Let me stop you right there, Miss Swan—”

Thus beginning the era of “interview interruptus,” as she would so gleefully begin later, trying and failing to conceal her pride at using a term she had coined a few months earlier. There was lots of fake politeness and huffs of frustrated breath and eye-rolling and honestly she barely got to ask a question let alone receive any answers, and he must have been getting just as irate as she was because the guy actually had the nerve to—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Realizing that she was standing dangerously close to this man, stepping out of his wickedly tempting sphere of handsome, academic influence (and she was right about the expensive coffee thing).

“You had some ink on your cheek,” he answered quietly, as if he were surprised at his own movement, his hand slowly returning to his side. “My apologies.”

“It’s fine,” she said sharply, swiping her hand over her face, “don’t worry about it.”

“Miss Swan,” he paused, “Emma.”

His brief silence was heavy, and while in reality it was probably only a few seconds, it felt as if hours of contemplation went by. It seemed like he was devoting so much energy, so much careful attention to his next words to her, and honestly, it was kind of refreshing.

“I understand you’re skeptical, alright? I’ve been known to doubt on occasion as well.”

She rolls her eyes and he smiles, his pronounced cheeks adorably flushed, “But I’m bloody exhausted, I could use some rest. Here’s my card.”

It’s just a normal business card, which is pretty disappointing. Could’ve at least used some holo-graphics or something.

“E-mail me, give me a call. We can talk then.”

Emma Swan is well-versed in the complex, many-layered looks of suspicion and distaste. She’s not quite sure which one she’s decided to unleash on the good doctor here, but from the look on his face it’s not too far off from the one she’d given Neal when he had tried to “bury the hatchet,” as it were. His face softens and he releases a quiet breath, a new, patient smile on his face.

“Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.”

And that’s when she runs for her car.

You can tell that August Booth wants to be able to pull off that genuine, trustworthy thing that Dr. Jones is able to convey so well, which is what makes it that much more distasteful to observe.

“I didn’t even think they made VHS tapes anymore.”

August glances back at her over his shoulder with a mischievous look on his face, or at the very least, trying to be. It’s a little bit like a teenager who thinks they’ve managed to pull one over on the teacher, when really they’re about to be sent to summer school.

“They do, actually,” he starts, pulling a black tape off the shelf, “something about the way it records. Catches it better.”

“Never thought I would hear that,” she answers, following his path across the room to an old television with a large player stacked beneath it. “Catches what better?”

A few hours later she’s calling, e-mailing, and texting Dr. Killian Jones, trying to temper the excitable tone of her voice, “Hey, Dr. Handsome? Yeah, I hope you’re well-rested. I’ve got something you need to see.”

Dropping her phone almost directly into the good doctor’s hot coffee probably isn’t the best idea she’s ever had, but it’s certainly one of the more dramatic.

“I hope you know that I won’t be paying for that,” he starts calmly, his eyebrow predictably, adorably quirked.

“Don’t quirk that thing at me,” she answers hotly, pulling the phone away at the corner, wiping the liquid off on her jeans, “she’s endured a whole lot worse than your shitty coffee.”

He takes an actual, delicate sip of his hot, expensive, garbage coffee and she thinks, gleefully, of all the articles she’s read about problematic coffee bean importation and the fact that this self-righteous jerkface actually thinks he’s taking the moral high ground right now before she tries to hand the phone over yet again. Slower this time.

“Watch it,” insistently pushing the phone into his hand, “I think you’ll find it... enlightening.”

“I can assure you, Swan,” slowly returning his mug to the table, his eyes never leaving hers as he tugs it from her fingers, “it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”

She probably should’ve warned him, the screaming is pretty loud.

Exorcism footage is undeniably fucked, and she’s starting to regret the re-watch rabbit hole she tumbled down the night before. She hadn’t slept much, and between the violent, erratic spasming and otherworldly shrieking she’s not sure she’ll be sleeping ever again, thank you very much. It is worth it, however, for the shocked, offended look on his face when Alex Reagan, aged 10 or 11, lets out an ungodly shriek so loud that the barista behind the counter drops a bucket full of dirty mugs and dishes. (And, okay, she does feel slightly bad about that.)

“Good God, Swan,” he hisses angrily, desperately trying to mute her phone before it gives the older lady in the corner booth a heart attack, “you could see fit to warn a man.”

“Oops.”

His sigh of frustration is almost erotically gratifying, and she unleashes a smug, self-satisfied grin of her own before he resumes the video, at a much lower volume this time, and a serene sense of concentration seems to envelop him as he watches the entire 10 minute clip.

It had seemed pretty legitimate, in her admittedly amateur opinion. Maybe she hadn’t spent her whole life debunking the paranormal, but she liked to think she had a pretty good instinct for these things. August Booth was a shady character, there was no doubt in her mind of that, but this tape—and the others? They had to be real.

Her voice is clear, steady, and entirely unimpeded by snacks as she records. Her foot fails to nervously fidget beneath her desk as it normally would. Her motives are pure and ethically sound.

Take that, David Nolan.

Let me describe it for you, so you can really get a clear sense of what we’re seeing.

There’s a young girl tied to a chair. She’s unusually small for her age, Booth says she can’t be any older than 10, but it takes at least 3 large, beefy guys to keep her in that chair. There’s a sound coming from the video, and, ya know, her mouth is open, so it has to be the girl, but… it sounds more like the cries of a wounded animal. A cat, maybe. And it echoes, loudly, throughout the room—you can tell that it’s distracting the priest, which… I dunno, maybe that’s the point.

 He’s chanting something in Latin, and it’s having some kind of effect on the girl, Alex, her jaw seems to be clenched so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t break. This goes on for a while, I won’t bore you with the rest, but it’s the end that’s really… it’s really something else. The priest seems to finish his chant or sermon, whatever it is, and Alex goes real still, like maybe she’s heard something in another room?

And then…

“Bloody hell.”

“Told ya.”

...Her mouth just… drops open, but it’s more than that, it’s not like she’s surprised or excited or shouting, it just drops, like the physical reality of her bones aren’t even a thing, because this poor girl’s jaw, it’s down to her sternum, at least, and it’s only a second, it’s a literal fraction of a second but when you see it. Man, do you see it. 

“Debunk that, Mr. Bean.”

Dr. Jones looks thoroughly unimpressed for a whopping 30 seconds before he speaks.

“Where did you find this, Emma?”

“I may have taken a trip to Storybrooke after our chat the other day.”

The man couldn’t look less amused by that confession even if he tried. His manner seems to shift from inquisitive scientist to scolding parent, and she tries not to feel disappointed.

“You shouldn’t have done that, Swan.”

“Oh, it’s ‘Swan,’ now, is it?”

He slips the phone back into her hand and returns to his seat, his sad, neglected coffee having significantly cooled since she walked in the door. She had been hoping for another explosive debate, if she were being truthful. Not that they’d made much progress the other night at the college, but she enjoyed riling him up—he blushed a lot.

“What is it you want from me?”

She sighs and considers her position. The least she could do is be truthful with her subject. The chair slides harshly across the floor as she moves to take a seat, and the coffee shop seems to fall almost eerily quiet in the absence of the video, the sound of their voices filtering in between the generic noises of a public space.

“I just want the truth, Jones. Like you.”

“Somehow, Miss Swan, I’m not quite sure that’s true.”

There’s something unsettling about the way he studies her, like he knows all of her deepest, darkest secrets, can read her insecurities as if they were second-rate horoscopes in some local paper and she wants to take it all back—she’ll write about the cat toenails. After a few long, uncomfortable minutes in which she feels strangely psychoanalyzed, he manages to expose at least one of her secrets.

“I know you got that tape from August Booth,” taking a sip of his cold coffee and wrinkling his nose, “and I can’t say I approve.”

“Good thing I don’t live or die at the whims of your approval, Dr. Jones.”

“Yes, I would have to agree. Quite a good thing.”

He seems to disappear into himself for another moment, not dissimilar to his reaction when the almost comically serious, dark-haired woman had asked him about Milah Gold that night at the lecture.

“I have a proposition,” he starts again, straightening his jacket, “if you’re going to be as… shall we say, ‘committed,’ to hounding me about this as you appear to be—”

A bearded waiter wearing suspenders (because this coffee shop isn’t trendy enough) stops by their table to retrieve empty mugs and take any other orders, and she would very much like to get some herbal tea (David “pop-pop” Nolan seems to think that caffeine “makes her worse”), except this dude won’t stop flirting with her paranormal professor. Her time is precious, after all.

“Excuse me, yes, hello?”

Killian Jones stops flashing his obnoxious eyeballs at their stunned waiter long enough for her to order her tea and then he’s gone, both of them making eyes at the other until he’s back behind the counter.

“You are a mystery unto yourself, Dr. Jones.”

He clears his throat and tries to hold back another one of those smug grins she still can’t stand, and he gestures towards her phone sitting innocuously on the table, like a bomb waiting to go off.

“I know this all seems like just another story to you, but there’s a lot more to this world than you know.”

“I do know, that’s why—”

He chuckles and gently interrupts, “Just, hold on one moment and let me finish. I’ve listened to a few of your ‘podcasts,’ as you call them. You are clearly very smart, intuitive, I have no doubt you could tell a compelling story.”

Flirty, in-over-his-head waiter returns with her tea, and luckily, doesn’t stick around for another game of mental footsie.

“If you’re going to tell this story, as I have no doubt you will, I want to make sure that it’s the truth.”

She raises an eyebrow, as if listening to a few of her episodes means he knows her. Nothing is more important than the integrity of her work. Nothing. Cat toenails or no, she’s not a liar.

“I’m not great at a whole lot, Dr. Jones. But I’m a brilliant reporter. I’m thorough and careful and creative and I do my job. I don’t need you or anybody else reminding me of what the truth is.”

Stand up, she thinks to herself, leave. You don’t know need him to tell this story, it’s practically writing itself at this point. In her recollections of this moment, lost in the digital confines of her recorder, looking out over the bay in her VW, the sun setting magnificently in the distance, she will lie. Just a little bit.

“So he tells me he thinks we’d make a good team, basically, only the language was a bit more formal.”

As if she were some kinda middle-class British lady in a Jane Austen novel and he’s gonna be her Mr. Darcy or a Knightley or whomever the hell decides to play the gentleman in the story of her life. Makes her realize that he wasn’t who she thought he was or some bullshit, and “No,” aloud, recording, “he’s exactly who I think he is.”

“Anyway,” taking a breath, re-focusing, onto the next step, “he’s taking me out of state tomorrow.” Some kind of haunting in Canada and dammit, she’s gonna need to dig her passport out of her closet.

“This is Emma Swan, ACRS, signing off.”

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON ATLAS’ MAIN RAP NO GUNWOO...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Gun CURRENT AGE: 24 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 16 COMPANY: KJH  SECONDARY SKILL: Music production (hip-hop and r&b)

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): gun pd and dj gun (both from his two main career interests, producing and radio hosting), 단호건/danhogun (a play on his name and danhobak, because he’s stern/decisive), 총우/chongwoo (gun in korean + the second syllable of his full first name), 노센스/no sense (play on his surname and the fact that he has no variety sense), 건담/gundam (play on his name and a popular character that he has a moderate collection of) INSPIRATION: several older hip-hop groups and artists that he started listening to back when he was younger, most notably epik high and tiger jk and a plethora of western artists. he says he felt really connected to the music and wanted to make his own that other people could connect to as well.  SPECIAL TALENTS:

freestyle rapping

playing songs on piano by ear (simplistic versions)

good at random games like 딱지/ttakji, 공기/gonggi, and 제기차기/jegichagi (he attributes this to the fact that his little sister always wanted to play them) 

NOTABLE FACTS:

prior to atlas’ debut, he released a few solo tracks and mixtapes that were moderately successful in the local underground scene 

can play the piano, has learned it since he was six, mostly self-taught with a few lessons here and there

he’s very handy, can assemble and fix a lot of random furniture/appliances and things of that nature

his moderate collection of gundam collectibles started due to fans gifting them in the beginning, but he started buying them on his own after as well and has them in display cases in his studio

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

after his solo debut as atlas’ gun essentially flopped a few years back before they really blew up, he wants to attempt another solo release. now that there are a lot more eyes on them, he really wants to show off more of his personal work. in addition, he’s always wanted to be a radio dj and after hosting a few as a special guest, he wants his own radio show in the near future.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

funny enough, despite his short term solo goal, gun’s love for performing live has been fading the more popular atlas gets. getting on stage and hearing screams is still one of his favorite parts of the job, but the side-effects that it comes with (the lack of privacy and stalker fans, the public scrutiny and pressure, the insane work hours and ridiculous amount of traveling, the way his career has become his entire life, etc.) are starting to outweigh all the positives. so, in a way, his long term goal is to get away from all that once atlas is done. he still wants to work with music, but he’d much rather be behind the scenes as a producer and lyric-writer, as opposed to an active performer.

IDOL IMAGE

no gunwoo -- no, gun, is atlas' stone, atlas' rock in more ways than one.

he is: rough around the edges.

they tell him not to lose his daegu accent, not entirely. to let it slip on purpose more often than not. to not let people forget that he's just a country boy at heart who had a dream, a passion for music and risked it all by coming to seoul to pursue it. they say not to censor himself too much, either, let a cuss word or two slip every now and then, let his face betray all his emotions sometimes, even negative ones when he's annoyed or angry or confused or sad. if you're feeling down, post some thoughts on the fan café, maybe go live. obviously, they say not to do it too much or at the wrong time, but just enough to give off the feeling that he's genuine, unpolished, not some cookie cutter idol. he won't be relatable by any means, but real. believably flawed like anyone else. just a daegu boy who happens to rap because he wants to.  

he is: stubborn. or, in nicer terms, strong-willed. immovable.

he's the poster boy for 'if you just work hard and take risks you can do anything you want'. from the country to seoul, from no one to someone, from giving up his artistic integrity for the first few years of their career to risking his entire life to get it back and not backing down, not caring who he threw under the bus. in the end, gun seems to have gotten everything he's wanted and they leverage that, too.

of course, atlas as a whole stands for hard work making the dream work, but gun's inherent stubbornness is played up just that much more. like when they tell him to talk about how long he takes to produce tracks sometimes because he won't let it go until it's exactly how he imagined it. or to talk about how he couldn't dance worth a damn and almost got kicked out of the tentative lineup, but, well, look at him now. he still can't quite dance anywhere near as well as the rest of the group, but that's fine, they say. that's all part of it too, because now his ability to follow choreography as well as he can is the product of pure hard work with no natural talent to back it up.

he is: foundation.

when it comes to atlas' music (post 2015), gun is a large part of the foundation it lies upon. he's not the only one, of course, but he is often the one they turn to when questions about their music come up. about the concept. about the lyrics. about the meaning behind it all and the process with which they came up with it. they tell him to go all out, go ahead and answer with technical terms to show he has a deep understanding. this is what he threatened to leave for, after all, so he may as well make use of it. show the people that there was good reason kjh yielded, that he knows what he's talking about. that atlas' music is good because "of course, the members helped write the lyrics" or "of course, the members helped produce it" or "as expected of self-producing atlas~"

he is: well grounded.

with gun, what you see is what you get. he is confident sometimes veering on cocky, he is decisive often veering stubborn. he is real, genuine, flawed, human, just with a particularly strong passion for music. at least, that's the vibe they want him to give off. a real, serious musician.

it's a precarious image, to say the least, still manufactured in its supposed genuineness. an image he has trouble balancing because sometimes he's not quite sure anymore where gun ends and gunwoo begins.

(if he begins anywhere at all anymore).

IDOL HISTORY

FATE PANN TITLE: WOW THEY 'RE REALLY GONNA LET THIS GUY DEBUT? ㅡㅡ

let me start with my proof: i went to school with this b*stard, here's my school id and here's my picture in our yearbook and here's no gunwoo's picture. he looks exactly the same ㅋㅋ

anyway, wow i heard he ran off to seoul but i didn't know it was so that he could train to be an idol... f*ck, this guy used to curse at idol groups all the time and now he's going to be one? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ  i hope his group f*cking flops

he was just annoying? he always made stupid jokes during class and would get so pissed when he actually got in trouble for it. he cleaned our classroom almost all year round because he really got in trouble that much. and he was just such an a*shole so he got into fights a lot even though he was so skinny ㅋㅋㅋ  

but yeah that's all i have to say for now~ i just thought it was annoying that someone who cursed at idol groups so much is now becoming one because ah... i still remember when he spilled his water on my precious midnight album ㅡㅡ

no gunwoo is born in daegu in the middle of winter and spring and this sets the tone for his childhood.

he is the middle child, the awkward transition, the unwanted and accidental. the classic case of the second child of three. he's born when his parents are hoping for a daughter after already having a son, and that foundation of disappointment never seems to disappear as he grows up. everything he does pales in comparison to his hyung of 2 years if his parents have anything to say about it, and this quickly takes a toll.

everything becomes a competition and he's already two years behind. so he just tries that much harder, at least in the beginning. his grades are good, and at six he picks up the piano after minwoo picks it up too. none of it matters, though, because minwoo is first in his grade and can play their mom's favorite classical music while gunwoo's stuck in the middle once again and his little hands can only do so much on the piano keys.

even when gunwoo rises in class rank and bikes back home to their little farm on the edge of the province excitedly to tell them, minwoo's already there with an award for some math competition and a sign-up form for another one waiting for their signature. even when he's now eight and has practiced piano at his grandparent's house for the past year almost every evening to play his mom's favorite songs, minwoo's already there telling them about a recital  he's been asked to play at.

he's always two years too late and his parent's don't expect anything from him. gun is ten years old when he learns how to accept that.

he stops studying in the library after school and explores the city with friends instead. his street smart grows while his grades drop, and his parents just act like they've known it all along, that they're just proving him right, that, as expected, he can't amount to anything anyway.

soon enough, anger replaces his desparation for their approval.

he acts up in class and comes home late, he starts fights and comes home with cuts and scrapes and bloody bandaids, he finds hip-hop music that sounds like what he feels and the seed is planted, watered every day until it blooms later in his life.  

the only thing that stays constant is his love for piano and his little sister. jiwoo, at least, has always been the light brightening up the shadow behind minwoo he stands in. the only one whose eyes sparkles when he plays her favorite songs for her, who congratulates him when he comes home with good news, who is happy, proud even, to be his family. he's just three years older, but he likes to claim he's raised her as much as his parents have, has protected her more than they have (if the guy that ended up with a damn near broken nose has anything to say about it).

and so jiwoo is the reason he still holds onto the name gunwoo to this day, but it's also jiwoo who helps him become gun.

FATE PANN TITLE: DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW WHO THIS GUY IS?

i went to hongdae this weekend and saw this guy busking there, he looked really young but i was so impressed with his rapping??? i waited around until he was done to talk to him a bit and i found out he's a kjh trainee! his name is gun and he's seriously so impressive for his age.. i was shocked when i found out he's the same age as my seventeen year old little brother... ㅠㅠ

anyway, if anyone else wants to listen to his music he has a soundcloud and he's posted a few of his tracks on there! i'll link it here ~ soundcloud.com/n0gun

when gunwoo is fourteen, the seed blossoms. his love for hip-hop evolves into something more than just an interest in the music, but in an interest for the process of creating it, too. performing it, writing lyrics, producing the beats.

he spends the time he used to spend studying and playing piano penning his own lyrics to already made songs. he picks up odd jobs from his neighbors and from the grandmas he’s gotten to know in the city to pocket as much under-the-table income he can come by and buys second-hand music equipment he can then call his own. he uses free online tutorials to teach himself how to use the software then just goes at it. he creates and creates and creates.

it's all rough, of course, but it's something. it's his and his only. it's something his brother's never done before and it's something he loves, something he's done for his own personal interest only, something he wants to keep doing.

he's sixteen when jiwoo shows him a way for him to keep doing it by way of a kjh audition flyer. he resents the idea of becoming an idol, but after one particularly bad argument with his dad gets all of his hard-earned music equipment thrown out the window and broken beyond repair, he bikes into the city, into an audition he’d been subconsciously been preparing for for years.

when they present him with an offer, he signs right away.

when he presents the same to his parents, they sign even quicker.  

to get him out of their lives, he assumes. but not without one last comment about how he would probably fail this too, anyway.

he tries to forget their words when he moves up to seoul, tries to ignore it, but it stays with him for years

otherwise, the move to seoul is just as difficult. miles away from all his friends and jiwoo and the city streets he knows by heart, the river, the isolated farm, he feels more alone in the most populated city of the country.

so he throws himself into training. they all do, of course. but for the second half of his teenage life, it is almost all he knows. the company makes it clear that their next group will have a heavy focus on their dancing, and gunwoo is anything but a dancer. what takes others minutes takes him hours to learn. he gets frustrated easy, remembers those words he keeps trying to forget, and it's the anger that boils every time he remembers them that motivates him to never stop. he practices in the tiny dorm until others tell him to shut up. he sits outside the doors, the windows of dance classes provided at other dance studios that he can’t afford and tries to mimic them on his own time. he stays up at night with his stomach grumbling and his eyes heavy producing song after song after song to show the company that he has something to bring to the group, despite his weakness.

it never gets easy, but it becomes routine and seoul is no longer scary. no longer lonely. he finds friends, he finds his passion in music like he’s never done before and with proper equipment and training at his disposal, he prospers.

he busks at hongdae, he performs at café open mic nights, he throws together a soundcloud account and gives himself the stagename gun. he posts tracks whenever he can and when he posts his first mini mixtape at eighteen, the response is more than he expects. it’s nothing much in the grand scheme of things, but it gets passed around a little, and when he requests to book performances, some organizers recognize his name, his music. it’s euphoric, getting on stage and hearing a few people sing along to his lyrics. his music. his work. it fuels him, drives him to release another mixtape the following year to the same amount of moderate success, drives him to train, train, train because if this is what it feels like to be on stage, to make everyone know your name, then so be it.

he’ll be an idol.

he'll be gun. if gunwoo is fated for failure, at least gun doesn't seem to be.

FATE PANN TITLE: DO YOU GUYS REMEMBER THIS GUY FROM THOSE PICTURES OF VIXEN?

i heard from my uncle's friend that he's a trainee at kjh and he really did date one of the members. i can't say which member, but i'm sure everyone can guess which one~ apparently, aside from the main rapper's mess... another reason kjh dropped vixen was because of all those pictures and rumors about him dating that vixen member.

kjh is about to debut his group soon and they wanted to make sure his name's not attached to someone like her ㅋㅋ so they're just getting rid of the group entirely ㅋㅋ kjh is really sly... i bet they made them break up too or something like that~ it's funny though, this guy's already making trouble and he hasn't debuted yet... kjh is really a mess right now aren't they

that is, until he makes a bit of a mess and even gun is at risk of failing.

he does as he's always done and breaks the rules. specifically, he dates. and not only that, but he dates one of the company's active idols. his own debut is right around the corner around when they're caught and vixen is already in a mess of their own. there's talk about dropping him from the lineup entirely, but they do the opposite instead. all the rumors about him and the vixen member are just that anyway, rumors with blurry photographic proof that can easily be denied and they'd already been on the verge of disbanding all of vixen.

so, they take this chance and do. they keep gun on track to debut (with a tighter leash around him now) and try to drown out all his rumors, then disband vixen instead.

this is the first real taste he gets of the company's stronghold on him and his anger starts heating slowly within him again.  

he stays, though, because what else does he have?

FATE PANN TITLE: CAN YOU GUYS BELIEVE KJH WENT FROM VIXEN TO THIS?????

i was a fan of that gun guy's old mixtapes before so i was looking forward to his debut but... what is this sh*t... ah, why did he have to debut as an idol, what a waste..  the group seems so f*cking try hard...  

maybe because i knew of him before but gun especially made me cringe, he was trying too hard to seem cool but ㅋㅋㅋ his chain necklaces look like they weighed more than him....

after the mess is cleaned up and atlas debuts, he gets to keep his stage name because it fits their image at the time and with his moderate success at least around the hongdae scene, they think it may bring in some fans.

they're wrong.

when he sees their debut concept, he’s –

well, he’s upset. but he’s an idol, so what can he do but go along with it?

the seeds of doubt have already been planted, though, and they only grow the more they prep. the choreography is hard, the styling feels gimmicky, and the music video does too. it feels like everything he never wanted to do, it feels like tarnishing what he’s done so far as gun underground, and it just feels. miserable. he feels miserable.

useless, too, like his father always said. because nothing he suggests gets taken into account, waved off instead. because he’s just a prop, or at least that’s what he feels like and everything in him sinks.

they debut the day after he turns twenty to little fanfare but plenty of criticism, those who were fans of his mixtapes commenting he’s sold himself out, that they’re not looking forward any longer. he agrees.

but he’s an idol.

he performs on stage because that’s his job, but the euphoria isn’t there like it had been underground. replaced instead with some sinking feeling he doesn’t know how to define at twenty years old. doesn’t know how to get rid of except with anger, with alcohol.

his drinking starts with just a shot or two of soju upon returning to the dorms, snuck into his room and hidden from their managers. then shots turn into bottles, and dorms turn into convenience store fronts. then his anger bleeds into his work environment and some staff leave blind items about him on pann.

no one ever guesses his name, though, because who is atlas anyway?

two years into their career and the public still refuses to respond well to their releases. two years, and the company still refuses to listen to his, and the other atlas members’, ideas. and so two years is how long it takes for gun and the rest of atlas’ rap line to band together and threaten for what they’ve wanted the most, what gun has always dreamed of: having more creative control with the group direction.

it’s a huge risk, he and the other boys know this. going behind the other half of the group’s backs, risking their contracts, their livelihoods, their chance in this industry because if they fail they know there’s no chance in hell anyone will take them in anymore. but it’s a risk they’re willing to take, and one that pays off massively, because to their surprise: they get what they want.

and the public loves it too.

suddenly, they’re thrust right into the spotlight.

suddenly, there’s more responsibility shoved onto his shoulders.

but gun loves it, thrives in it. the stage feels better, now, the feeling he’s missed from all those years ago returning in full force. the music feels good, too, the lyrics. because they’re now actually his in part, songs he can proudly put his name on, songs he will gladly ramble on and on about on vlives and interviews.

there’s a crack in the atlas infrastructure, but gun thinks it’s all been worth it. even if they are running a marathon now, and have been for three straight years. it’s not without consequences, of course. what used to just be small pann rumors and blind items of some nobody idol being an asshole to work with, or of some nobody idol supposedly dating around the stylists and flirting with fans, with other idols and every girl he ever collaborates with are now rumors of an idol everyone in the business knows and have become very real threats to the image he and atlas have built up. 

now the pressure and stress keeps building and building, weighing heavier with not only the threat of those rumors blowing up, but now also with every new milestone reached, every comeback, ever growing expectation.

and so slowly but surely, the euphoria fades again, replaced with worry, with burden, with feelings of not being able to meet impossible expectations. with his parents words from all those years ago resurfacing and reminding him that he's never good enough. 

now, it’s only a matter of time before gun cracks, because even atlas shrugged while holding the weight of the world.

[lazybarbarians]

Star Wars: Aftermath: Empire’s End by Chuck Wendig

Ragnell: So over the past two weeks we finished up the Aftermath trilogy with Empire’s End and now we are totally up to date on the state of the Star Wars universe one-year post-RotJ as pertains to everyone but Luke Skywalker.

And Ezra Bridger, and Kanan Jarrus, and Ahsoka Tano or really any of the animated-verse Jedi or Sith and any of the EU Jedi or Sith like Mara Jade who still might exist in some way.

But for the soldiers and scoundrels and surviving Imperials we have a status quo for about 29 years. We also know what happens to the core characters from the first Aftermath book which is honestly (and impressively, considering how little patience I have for original SW characters) what we read this thing for anyway. (As usual, I pretty much spoil everything in this recap below.)

So we open with several threads going on. Gallius Rax is flashing back to his Tuesdays with Palpatine excerpts, and gathering the pathetic remnants of the Imperial Navy on Jakku. Because Palpatine had a big secret project there, of which Gallius was an integral part. So integral that Palpatine appoints Gallius Rax as The Contingency which we can immediately tell will be a great pain in the ass to the whole galaxy.

Norra and Company are hunting down Mercurial Swift, so they can track down Rae Sloane. Temmin is annoyed he’s always stuck on getaway driver duty. The bounties on Jas from her old bosses are mounting. Sinjir is still having his career regrets, which are worsened by the fact that without Luke Skywalker around to point out sensible things like “I don’t think that’s good for the soul”, Sinjir basically still has to do the same job only for Norra. And Norra has entered Terminator Revenge mode, which is basically what has her asking Sinjir to do the same job and limiting Temmin to getaway driver duty. This is generally what everyone has to work past the entire story. They find out Rae Sloane is on Jakku and follow.

Surprise surprise, the pathetic in comparison to its former glory but still a really really lot of ships remnants of the Imperial Navy are there. This leads the good guys to split up, with Norra and Jas taking an escape pod to the surface because Norra’s in revenge mode (followed by Mr. Bones because Temmin is worried about his mother) and Temmin and Sinjir to go back to Chandrila to get embroiled in the political plot.

Kalinara: I actually thought Norra in revenge mode was one of the weaker parts of the story, unfortunately. It’s understandable that she’d be conflicted and angry, but there were points where she just seemed cartoonishly irrational. Norra was my favorite in the previous books, but I wasn’t as big a fan of her here.

R: Mon Mothma is facing a election challenge from the appropriately named Senator Wartol, a hardline warhawk who accuses her of weakness that led to the Liberation Day attack last book. Long story short, her challenger is a corrupt asshole who has criminal ties and uses them to rig a vote to actually PREVENT attacking Jakku so that he can say he voted for it but she’s a shit Chancellor for not even being able to put this together. Sinjir teams up with the Organa-Solo family and his ex-boyfriend Conder to resolve this. He does so well that Mon Mothma offers him a job as her aide, which resolves his career path crisis, enables him to skip the Jakku attack and settle down happily with Conder.

K:: How’s that for one of the first, explicitly gay characters in Star Wars? He and his boyfriend both get to live, AND get a happy ending to boot!

R: Temmin spends his time pestering Wedge Antilles to put him on a ship and send him to Jakku. Wedge, after last book’s mini-rebellion, isn’t even allowed to go himself and is stuck being an expeditor in the hangers. After several guilt-trips, Wedge finally relents and puts together the same group of outcasts from last book to sneak, unauthorized, into the battle and lets the 16 year old join them because Wedge Antilles has spent way too much time with Luke, Leia, and Han over the last 5 years.

Temmin’s been wanting to go back to Jakku, of course, because that’s where his mother, his droid and his.. Jas have been. Both Jas and Norra got captured by Niima the Hutt, who is horrible even as Hutts go. Norra was on some work-detail where Mr Bones the droid broke her out. Jas got to pull ever-increasing acts of badassery to avoid being taken in for her bounty, steal Swift’s ship AND steal Swift’s crew.

Also in Niima’s area, Rae Sloane and Brentin Wexley, who convince her to lead them to the Imperial Secret Squirrel place where they are promptly captured and forced to witness a ridiculous speech by Gallius Rax. Sloane undergoes some of her own career angst while Brentin actually manages to get them both free. They proceed to try to fuck up Gallius Rax’s mysterious plan, and go into the Imperial Secret Squirrel place.

While in there, Norra catches up to them and they all find out that due to an overly emphatic chess metaphor Gallius Rax has activated a weapon in the core of Jakku that will destroy the whole planet and both fleets. He’s also sent the Huxes off with a bunch of children to outside the Galaxy to meet other ships with imperials and children, and the Eclipse, so that Palpatine can continue to vex the Galaxy from beyond the grave. On the bright side he kills Tashu, who was actually such a dick I was hoping they’d save him for the Jedi to kill in a later story.

Norra, Brentin, and Rae have a great deal of emotional interaction about trust and distrust, and a rather kickass three-against-one fight with Gallius in between trying to shut down the weapon. Brentin gets through all the defenses but stops to save Norra and gets killed. Rae actually turns down the weapon while Norra, feeling that her trust of Sloane was justified, drags her husband’s body out for burial. Rae then boards a ship with the Huxes and a bunch of feral brainwashed proto-Stormtroopers for the Eclipse, because she is not actually finished being evil yet.

K:: I was surprised by how much I liked Brentin, in particular, in this book. He was more plot point than character last time (even if he was a helpful juxtaposition against all those “no, Kylo is BRAINWASHED!” justifications), but here, we got to see more of who he is as a man. I was rather disappointed they killed him off. I might have liked the novelty of Norra and Brentin going through an amiable divorce.

Sloane was pretty great too. And for all of my complaints about Norra previously, she and Sloane had such a great dynamic once they finally met up. And I’m thrilled at the idea that we might see her again.

R: Wartol is arrested because he tries to kill Mon Mothma, but really only manages to destroy her office and kill the advisor who hadn’t been fleshed out until this book so we could feel bad about her. Mas Amedda manages to escape Coruscant and sign a surrender treaty. Leia attends the signing, during labor (because kid, you are gonna have to wait until galactic peace gawddammit) and thus manages to freak out her husband, attain galactic peace AND have a baby. Nothing in this book manages to excuse Kylo Ren’s horrible horrible crimes, and in fact knowing what’s coming you kind of cringe at one scene. Wedge Antilles and the Wexleys all go to the new pilot academy. Jas sets up shop with the crew she stole from Swift, and grieves Jom who went to Jakku to find her and was killed in the battle. Sinjir settles down with his new career and Conder.

K: Seriously. I didn’t see anything that remotely indicated any “mind control from birth” or whatever nonsense. It isn’t even clear that Snoke EXISTS at this point in time. Any passage that could even be remotely stretched to mean some kind of fetus communication actually has a clear explanation in the text itself.

R: Actually, every character that we might have speculated would BE Snoke was specifically killed off

For the rest of the Galaxy, Chewbacca finds his son. Lando Calrissian regains his rightful place as Baron Administrator of Cloud City (which I believe is a 4-point Freehold if you’re tracking SW characters with White Wolf rules). Jar Jar Binks makes a friend and lives out the rest of his days entertaining orphans and avoiding politics. Coruscant ends up run by Mas Amedda anyway, but technically part of the New Republic. The Sith-worshipping Acolyte group from the Interludes was revealed to be sponsored by Tashu and dedicates itself to causing shit across the Galaxy and will almost certainly factor into the Jedi storyline. A charismatic leader, Brin, forms the Church of the Force which we already know factors into the Jedi storyline. It’s revealed that there are facilities known as Observatories, set up by Palpatine, that have been receiving data from outside the known galaxy all over the galaxy and not just on Jakku and that’s probably going to come into play somewhere too. The crazy pirate who found a Super Star Destroyer Dreadnought last book has cobbled together a functioning society of pirates around the ship. The residents of Tattooine have decided to just raise their own damned Hutt, Borgo, from childhood so they can have one who’s more compassionate than Jabba was. Luke is stated to be looking for old Jedi stuff.

That was a long recap, but one of the most tantalizing aspects of this trilogy is finding out just what the status quo in the Galaxy was after they finally wiped the bloated corpse of the Empire’s bureaucracy off of the map and got their new government underway. In general, it’s pretty satisfying. You follow your six Republic heroes, with some of the named characters from the movies as supporting cast, and your two main Imperials and their support, and get kind of a view of the rest of the universe. In a couple of places, these interludes tie into the main climax but others are just epilogues for the locations in the movies or tantalizing threads for when we find out what Luke has been up to.

K: I admit, that’s what I’m waiting for most. This was a fun side trek, but where is my favorite character, damnit?

R: I’m hoping we get another trilogy explaining this after The Last Jedi premieres. Or it’s the focus of the next animated series. Ezra seems custom-made to work as a foil for Luke, and Ahsoka was written out in a way that places her in safe-keeping until after RotJ.

One thing I found myself thinking from this last book, though, is that I feel better about The Force Awakens. I know a few OT fans who were very upset about everything Luke and Leia lost in the prelude to that movie and during it. I know a couple I saw who commented that they didn’t think Luke’s actions in RotJ were even that big an effect, since the Death Star was destroyed anyway. The view of the galaxy as seen in this trilogy, PARTICULARLY Jakku as compared to what we saw in the movie, changes that. You get the impression that even though there are still darksiders active, that a remnant of the Empire has left to regroup, that there’s still corruption and pirates and bullies and innocent people languishing in extreme poverty and hardship… that there’s still been a lasting improvement directly attributable to the actions of the heroes in the movies and the heroes in these books. Jakku at Rey’s time is actually a less horrible place than seen in this book. Many of the locations from the movies show people taking action and spreading hope. The remains of the Empire are the Emperor’s last middle finger to the Galaxy, and even after thirty years of gaining strength are still not the relentless, overwhelming presence in everyone’s life they were in Rogue One. The Galaxy was not instantly fixed, and much of the progress was wiped away, but there’s still a lot to hold onto. They came a long way between RotJ and TFA.

There’s really only one disappointment about this book. Tashu’s death. I joked above, but in the first book of this trilogy his main role is torturing a captive Wedge Antilles. The fallout from this is more realistic than you usually see in action-adventure fiction, where Wedge is still recovering throughout the second book both physically and emotionally. They’re unclear on whether he’s still using a cane this book or not, but either way it’s a long-term lingering impairment. He gets to staredown and work a little on his rage at Sloane last book, but he is never shown confronting Tashu. He’s never in the same room as the villain who put him through all of that. Tashu also never has a greater impact on any other main characters either from just this trilogy or the movies, meaning this villain was specific to one major hero and had a huge impact on that hero’s life and role in a story that covers at least half a year. Tashu isn’t saved for a later book or confrontation, he gets offed by Gallius and that’s a bit of a bummer.

[dailycryptonews-blog]

Crypto News - Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower

Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower Adam Draper is the founder and managing director of Boost VC, an accelerator that focuses on exploring the applications of VR/AR, blockchain, cryptocurrency, bots, space, ar... You May Likes reading: Also Read: How to Buy Bitcoin With USD Dollar

Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower

Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower

Adam Draper is the founder and managing director of Boost VC, an accelerator that focuses on exploring the applications of VR/AR, blockchain, cryptocurrency, bots, space, artificial intelligence, and drones. Boost VC is more than just a series of buzzwords, as the accelerator has funded over 200+ companies and launched some really cool projects. A fourth-generation VC, Adam Draper invested and backed startups such as Coinbase, Plangrid, Amplitude, as well as many more through Boost VC.

Located in San Mateo in Hero City, Boost VC plays an integral role within the Draper University ecosystem, a world energized by the ambitious and eccentric father/son duo of Tim and Adam Draper.

All it takes is a quick one-on-one conversation with Adam to get a feel for his passion for the startup community and exploring technologies that could potentially solve problems and enhance life for all of mankind.

The following interview was conducted at the DraperU 2018 Blockchain Intensive and goes over blockchain and its role in the growth of the entrepreneurial tech-world.

It’s really cool seeing how DraperU and Boost VC are really embracing multiple technologies like blockchain, VR/AR, AI, etc all on one block.

Yeah, I guess it is sort of interesting for people. Until you’re here, you don’t really see it. It’s really interesting. Yeah, we’re all like right here. It’s been awesome. We have some crypto companies in this tribe who’ve definitely been able to benefit. VR companies learn more about crypto by being a part of all the events that are going on. One of our companies helps people put to put together the ERC20 smart contract so people were getting excited about launching their own coins.

The ground floor of Hero City.

I think blockchain is going to accelerate VR pretty substantially.

Originally, I said this during my talk, but originally, we jumped into crypto and then two years later, we jumped into VR and crypto. People were like, well, where’s the overlap? In my mind, there wasn’t even an overlap. I just thought they were both really important technology and people were going to have them.

And then recently, like in the last six/nine months, I’ve realized that VR doesn’t work without crypto and the perfect use case for the blockchain is VR. We’re realizing that there’s a whole emergence of huge potential just in that category of things, which is wild because it was lucky. I think one of the things that has given me the impression of that being really useful is Crypto Kitties honestly.

It’s underrated technology.

Very underrated and laughable.

Beanie Babies were a $3,000,000,000 industry.

Yeah. I collected comic books. I collected cards. I’m a huge collector of things but digital has never had that feeling of scarcity where it’s like there’s one in 100 of these or there’s one in a thousand of these. Which is super exciting that we can do that now and distribution is the internet. How cool is that? Like instead of distribution being the sports card store or the comic book store, the internet is able to be the distribution service. 

You don’t have to risk putting a rare edition card in a letter and sending it to Pakistan and hoping the money gets to you. It’s just done.

I haven’t seen the traction for art collectibles yet, but I’m really excited about it. And there are a couple of companies that are working literally just on marketplaces like the eBay of these digital goods. I’m really excited, we actually have a company called DarkWinds that’s launching sort of a Magic the Gathering on the blockchain. And I’m really excited about the future of all these things because you can actually long term make the cards more valuable. If someone pre-programs this into the system whereas blocks are mined or blocks are used.

You could also make it so that people can only use cards a certain number of times per week. You can make it like as if in the Magic the Gathering system, but you can also make it so that they become more powerful as you play. So, if you play more, the cards become more powerful. I think that’s so cool. This is such a fascinating concept that couldn’t have existed with flat cards. Suddenly, there’s a truth in the blockchain of transparency that can allow for that. When our company said we’re launching this, it’s sort of like Magic the Gathering but it’s with pirates, I bought a bunch of cards because I got to play. 

Especially if it’s peer to peer dueling sort of thing. As long as it works, and you retain your card value.

Have you seen Ready Player One yet? He goes through the store and grabs the bombs and whatever. That isn’t possible without the blockchain, like having one bomb is not like a possible thing without the blockchain. It’s wild.

Great movie. The inflection point of the technological curve is we’ve got AI, we’ve got VR/AR and blockchain and they all sort of cross-pollinate. Then robotics mixed in there too. All four of them are experiencing massive amounts of rapid growth. Just to see it go down is just like, damn.

Another thing that I’m seeing is the AI characters are going to be a thing in VR. So, there’s overlap of all these is what you’re saying. The overlap of all three is going to be fascinating. It’s going to get to the point where you can interact with animals, characters and stuff who will talk and talk back as well. There are going to be millions of these AI’s out there. Like someone said to me, I love the thought process. There’s going to be 10,000 AI’s per person. The idea that there’s just going to be an infinite number of these personalities, this intelligence out there in software is so cool and you’re going to interact with them through virtual reality. I’m a VR first person, I think VR is going to take off before AR.

Think about this. If an AI is just so good at understanding the human brain, how humans interact and how they de-stress and stuff, you can literally do therapy in VR without talking to another human being. There’s an AI here helping. But in VR, you can put that in everybody’s home and make a big leap in solving a global mental health issue.

And without pills. We have one that’s for Alzheimer’s. Reversing Alzheimer’s is their goal. You’d actually be in control of reversing. There’s a lot of studies that show that music, exercise, and experience are all very helpful in reminding the brain about who you are. Alzheimer’s patients will go through this product. It’s really interesting. It’s on a bike, you’re biking through this forest area. There’s music that’s playing in the background that’s from your childhood and it’s really captivating. That’s exciting. The medical use cases that aren’t medical. The ones for mental health or for brain health which is the whole category.

Any sort of isolation can be cured through that as well.  Like astronauts in space. I don’t even know how they do it. Spending like six to eight months interacting with only three people. VR puts them down here.

Six months in space, VR would solve that completely.

You’d be able to chill with your friends and family anytime you want to.

Someone’s got to send a VR headset up to space. Put the first VR headset on the space station. Let them play with it.

Exactly, or stream them down to their family.

When’s the next space thing going up? Can you just look up these things on the internet? Let me follow this thing. Space, that’s another thing that’s intersecting with all these technologies.

It was science fiction before but now it’s blending into reality. When I was growing up, the idea of being able to video chat with somebody was insane to me. I was like, THAT is a future. And that was commercially popular in just a few years.

The thing that showed me the power of technology was actually Napster, peer-to-peer file sharing. I think it was the true power of networked computing where someone had music on their computer and I was able to see it and then I was able to bring it into my computer and I was able to listen. That asset-based sharing thing blew my mind and I was obsessed with it for like a long time. I went through the phase of downloading things and you had to misspell to get the right downloads.

It was a really interesting phase to go through for everything. I mean, without Napster, there was no Skype. That technology needed to show itself as peer to peer technology in order to… Bitcoin. Bitcoin is just peer to peer technology. It’s a peer to peer networked system that’s hooked to a ledger.

The differentiator between today’s companies and the early Internet companies was where those companies, their growth was limited to the growth of the Internet because who was on their computer? A very little amount of people. We have fully loaded internet where 12-year-olds and eight-year-olds are on it and they understand how to use it.

They understand how to use it without ever not understanding how to use it.

Every single company coming out now has instant access to all of these things. Feedback loops can be an hour short whereas back in the day, it was just like days, weeks. It’s pretty fascinating stuff. What I like about the Blockchain Intensive is you guys are really taking ownership of blockchain as a technology and educating people into it and you guys have an amazing platform to do it. 

I don’t think we realize how great of a platform it is. This was a shot at seeing how impactful we can be. I will say I’m not affiliated technically with the event other than genetics with my dad, but we’re geographically in the same location. So, I help just by talking, speaking. I didn’t set it up though, that was all my dad and his team. He has a great team. We’ve gone big on crypto and we’ve been doing for a while now. I was technically the first Bitcoin fund. It wasn’t called crypto. It was just called Bitcoin. Then I got obsessed and then he got obsessed and then he got the Marshall coin and we just went. Now, the world has gone crazy with crypto. I was in Singapore three weeks ago and it’s just all anyone could talk about.

No matter what your intelligence level is or what you’re doing in life, if you just heard about crypto, which most people did mid-2017, you’re tasked with this enormous burden of learning blockchain theory and everything that has to go into it in such a short period of time to be able to make an educated investment in coins that are going up, regardless of whether they’re a good investment or not. It was just such a little wacky…

Now, I think that like a big piece of last year was about education. So, you guys do the service but supplying as much content. But those people who didn’t really understand it but were playing had to learn over a course of time exactly how everything worked. So, that’s really exciting. It’s sort of like the Internet is common knowledge now, but when the Internet was being pitched in 1995 to 1999, it was probably an equally unfathomable thing. You connecting digitally to people makes no sense.

I always try to put myself in the mental perspective on the cusp of innovation with the general before like what people were thinking before a lightbulb turned on. What is this thing? What implications does this have? Now, we can work at night.

Do we have more time now to do things? That’s crazy.

They just won another four or five hours at their own leisure. 

That’s awesome. I hadn’t thought of it like that, but I love it. So, in my head, you’re not replacing dark with light, which is definitely a huge value add. You wouldn’t be able to do what we’re doing in the basement without light. It’s a trust system. So, somehow there’s this on switch where now there is machine trust. I wonder what the next generation is going to be like? What their lightbulb flip on is. That’s going to be cool.

That’s a great way to think about it.

It’s like the cyborg merging.

I think that’s the next one. I’ve got this wacky theory that our generation, people that are relatively young now, there’s going to be a point where the ability to transfer your sentience into a machine is going to be a possibility. I don’t have a trajectory for it, I just think it’s going to happen at some point. There is going to be a significant drop-off of people that are just getting older and things happen to them and they die before that sentience uploading point. The ones that make it past that point live to infinity. The ones that don’t, don’t.

Then it’s like, what is a human? That’s basically what the question ends up being. If you had Einstein’s brain, do you have his soul? Do you have the pattern recognition that he’s created for decision making? That’s what existence is. And memories.

Lightbulbs.

Perfect.

To keep up with Adam Draper, check him out on Twitter. Boost VC invests $50k – $500k in exchange for 7% of companies and provides housing, workspaces, and a deep network in the startup world.  You can learn more about Boost VC here.

The post Boost VC’s Adam Draper on Blockchain as a Startup Superpower appeared first on CoinCentral.

  source: https://coincentral.com/adam-draper-interview/

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[medicalmarijuana-news]

Shame, Responsibility, Pot and Donald Trump: The Henry Rollins Interview

“Some people would say the that election of Donald Trump is a sign of regression,” Henry Rollins told me over the phone from his home in Los Angeles. “I think what you’re seeing now is a sign of progress.”

Rollins, who turned 56 on Monday, came of age and became famous fronting the seminal hardcore band Black Flag in the early 1980s, when America was having another bout of aggressive nationalism. Back then, Ronald Reagan’s brand of capital-driven, me-first-and-then-America selfish cruelty had a friendlier face.

“It was a, ‘Have a nice day, before I break your skull in’ kind of thing,” he says. Rollins spent most of that era and the ensuing decades out on the road, in between appearing in film and on television and writing books.

The last few years, he’s performed what’s become his signature act—a high energy spoken word-slash-stream of consciousness manifesto, delivered with the urgency and intensity of a last confession—upwards of 150 times a year, while still fulfilling his other duties: writing music columns for LA Weekly and the Australian version of Rolling Stone, and hosting a weekly radio show on KCRW, an NPR affiliate in L.A.

Rollins is still the square-jawed, aggressive and thoughtful perpetual motion machine he always was. He hasn’t become a right-wing reactionary in his later years; he was a Bernie Sanders supporter and thinks Hillary Clinton, though “utterly lacking in charisma, would have been just fine.” However, “I was not surprised when Trump won,” he told me. “I did a lot of interviews overseas, where he’s seen as just this nightmare. You can do an interview in South Africa or Australia, and people just go, ‘That guy? Who even gives him a microphone?’ He seems impossible to someone in England. They’re like, ‘How do they even let him out of his lunchbox?’

“You have to explain that, since Reagan to now, there’s been a systematic dumbing-down of the American electorate, so you can fill prison cells and battlefields,” he says. “A guy like Trump is eventual.”

“I think what you have now is the last of the angry, pro-apartheid, single-toothed, mulleted Americans who are the Trump supporters… What you’re seeing now is the last of the dumb Americans. Trump is the last days of the angry whiteness of America.”

“Trump was a good ‘my ass has finally hit the bottom’ moment,” he continued. “This can happen, this is what it looks like, here’s how hard it sucks, and here’s what a nightmare this is. And it happened on your watch. Please don’t let it happen again.

“This is a good cautionary tale. Hopefully everyone—who can read—learns a very good, powerful lesson. I just hope too many people don’t get chewed up before we can undo it and at least neutralize what this guy is gonna do.”

“I still think it’s a great time to be alive. I’m not one of those doom and gloom people. All the fat is off the land now. All the lights are on, we can see where the motherfuckers are. They’re not hiding anymore. With [Steve] Bannon, the pigs are in your face.”

Today, Rollins is scheduled to give the keynote address at the International Cannabis Business Conference, one of the many gatherings of entrepreneurs, investors and anyone else seeking a piece of the $7 billion-and-counting legal marijuana industry to spring up in the past three-to-four years.

Rollins seems like an odd choice.

He doesn’t use cannabis, for one. He’s a noted teetotaler, eschewing alcohol and all drugs aside from coffee—he cops to having smoked weed once, after band practice in the late 1980s—and has been this way since he was a teenager.

Going to see one of the big rock acts “from the six-dollar-and-fifty cents cheap seats” with his childhood friend Ian MacKaye, the frontman of Minor Threat and, later, Fugazi (and the guy who wrote the clean-living-through-punk-rock anthem “Straight Edge,” so you can guess his thoughts on the matter) was what turned him off the drugs bit of the rock-and-roll trifecta.

“We would see Aerosmith, and they’re doing their thing, and half the audience is asleep,” he said. “I’ll never forget: I’m on my feet for Led Zeppelin, this is like 1977 or whatever, somewhere around there, and the guy next to me—here’s a guy face-planted on his corduroy pants because he’s high on something. And the band is playing ‘Kashmir.’ And it’s like, ‘Are you kidding? You blew it!’ Ian and I looked at each other and said, ‘Well, that’s cool for you.’ I have to be on my skateboard at 7:30 in the morning.”

But later, living in Redondo Beach in southern California, potheads were some of his favorite people. “Black Flag, we had a bunch of stoner friends,” he said. “And their parties were always the funnest. The girls were friendlier, no one is threatening you… These are some of the nicest people I met in the 1980s. If someone said, ‘Pot sucks,’ I’d say, ‘No, you suck!’ It never did me any harm. I was in vans full of marijuana smoke through the 1980s, 1990s, 2000s… I never had a problem. It was, ‘Nah, not for me.’”

“I don’t want to buy a hash brownie today. Until I do want to get one. I don’t want to sneak around. I don’t want a dealer. I don’t want it to be a criminal act. It’s not for me until the day it is—and when it is, get out of my way. Hook me up. I want some.”

Until then, Rollins has the mission of making people slightly uncomfortable. When he speaks to a room full of marijuana business people, nearly all of whom are white, and nearly all of whom are male, to get them to do the right thing, he’ll have to shame them a bit.

To this crowd, the current face of marijuana in America, Rollins won’t say anything “new.” Of course he thinks cannabis should be wholly and utterly legal; of course he recognizes, as the present-and-future cannabis capitalists of America do, that cannabis’s outlaw status came at a great cost borne by poor people and people of color.

“There’s nothing I’m going to say that people in the audience don’t know,” he explained. “I am talking to cannabis entrepreneurs. I want them to get their head around the idea that it’s more than making money.”

“That’s the thing. They have to get around the dollar signs in their eyes. If they do it right, they’re gonna make a ton of money. They’re going to be fine—they’re gonna have a million in the bank after the first two fiscal quarters. Once they stabilize, they should really be seeing this as a bigger deal than their bank account or their new houseboat.”

This is where cannabis and Trump have a few things in common.

If dog-whistle white-supremacy is ending in a real-life version of the Mike Judge film Idiocracy, marijuana prohibition is ending in a businessman’s orgy. The two unfortunately appear to bring out a similar type of person: White, male and into money. This is where responsibility comes into play—and a conscious selflessness. It’s not white men who suffered the most before legalization. It may be the white men responsible for making sure women and people of color can join them.

“I think it’s up to the white males who have the power to help break that down,” he said. “If you’re white, if you’re large and in charge, you have the big stick. You can use it for good, or you can use it for bad.”

This is the great and vicious irony of the marijuana movement.

Legalizing cannabis has opened it up to be exploited, possibly by the same type of people who profited off of prohibition. “That’s capitalism,” Rollins says. “All of that evil shit happens as soon as there’s a dollar to be made. All of those motherfuckers come out of the woodwork, it’s people who want to make a dollar.”

“No doubt there will be some of those money-loving, I sell stuff people there,” he explained. “These are capitalists. They have no morals at all. They’re like Ted Bundy in a suit. They want what they want. But you can get to some of them. You can say that their job could be even cooler than, ‘Hey, we’re doing weed.’ No. You’re promoting goodness, and a level playing field, and pushing against bigotry, and institutionalized racism. That’s the bigger picture.”

“This is where integrity comes in. What are these guys gonna do with these overturned laws? Will they help people who have been historically been set upon by law enforcement and government? 

“We’ll see. They will or they won’t. They will see it as part of the responsibilities, or they just won’t give a damn. And it won’t be 50 minutes of me convincing them. It might just put a seed in their head but the rest is up to them.”

Keep up with all of HIGH TIMES’ culture coverage, here. 

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