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soapdish290 · 4 years

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Harrow the Ninth may be one of the best books I’ve ever read.

Under the cut for some of the questions I need the answers to, as well as me mulling some implications / potential theories.

Harrow the Ninth is horrifically, horrifically dense, and is the first book I’ve ever read that made me take actual honest to god notes on first reading, but my entire GOD is it worth while.

I’ve never ready anything with a form / point of view quite so immensely complicated whilst still adding to and complimenting the narrative. Absolutely masterful shit.

I’m going to go hog wild with spoilers under the cut.

Edited in a probably fruitless attempt to make the formatting not The Worst on Mobile

IT WAS NEVER IN SECOND PERSON OEFHAUIOFNBaufbhAPIhbaip

It was always Gideon. I kind of jokingly wondered if it was back when I first heard it was going to be written partially in second person, but I didn’t BELIEVE it!

Things we should have known

1. There are so many clues that Harrow has inexpertly switched her cognition of the very word ‘Gideon’. I mean we know she’s wiped HER Gideon out of her head way back in Chapter 2 when John talks about Harrow’s Cav, name drops Ortus, and Harrow notices “As he spoke, his mouth looked strange.” Well yes, hearing something out of sync with what’s actually spoken will do that!

But we can actually see that it’s MORE than that way back in the Dramatis Personae. Everyone has their name, written out grammatically and normally, and then we have ORTUS. All in caps.

Obviously the real tell however is the codenames in Chapter 36. We know from Cytheria’s funeral that the Lyctors are naming themselves [Necro first name] [Cav first name]. The codename’s reflect this - apart from ‘Ortus’s’, which is G.P. P for Phyrra, G for Gideon. That’s when I got it.

What I MISSED, is that this tells us, right there and then, that he was very involved with our Gideon, who is named for her mother’s last word. Her mother whose last word was for OG Gideon.

2. Palamedes knew there was a perfect Lyctorhood and outright told us way back in chapter 33. “Tell me you [became a Lyctor] correctly. [...]Tell me you finished the work. You out of everyone could have worked out the end to the beginning I was starting to explicate”. I had to stop and stare at a wall for a bit with the implications of this one, at the time.

Things we now know

1. The thing for me, the real thing, is how goddamned casually the answer to one of the biggest mysteries is dropped. It’s an afterthought. Chapter 51:

“You clawed my face so bad that my blood ran down your hands; my face was under your fucking fingernails. When I let you go you couldn’t even stand, you just crawled away and threw up. Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven?

Was that the day you decided you wanted to die?”

Gideon is trying to work something out. She’s trying to parse together how Harrow opened the locked tomb. The entire opening part of this chapter is Gideon’s brain, whirling, working, following the reveal that the Necrolord Undying’s “unbreakable ward” was a blood ward. Rightfully, a ‘cell’ ward. And that Gideon is God’s blood.

So what have we learned?

In order:

We've learned that only John could open the ward. That Harrow couldn't possibly. That the latter half of her life has been a tragedy based, as is oft the case, on a misapprehension.

Then we learn that God is wrong, because he doesn't understand blood wards as well as he thinks he does.

We learn at the same time, through implication, that the locked tomb is blood warded (and think back to Gideon Prime's advice to Harrow RE warding).

Then we learn that our Gideon was birthed to be a weapon used to open the locked tomb. She is the blood of God.

And here, casually, that when Harrow decided to commit suicide by ward, she did so with our Gideon's fresh blood underneath her fingernails.The locked tomb has been open for 8 years.

(as an aside this is ‘casual’ because Gideon’s entire goddamn existence has just been torn asunder by learning her parentage and hearing what might become known, in the literary canon, as The Dad Joke Undying. It’s casual and seemingly disconnected because Gideon is dissociating to FUCK and Muir is a damn MASTER of linguistic form echoing narrative function).

2. “Alecto had your eyes from the moment any of us first saw her.” Harrow, who is in love the the body in the tomb, would have seen this, too. A 10,000 year old body with the same exact eyes as Gideon Nav. Nothing specific to add here. Just... worth noting. There are potential implications.

3. Oh yeah, Wake’s spirit was in the sword as well as Cytheria sometimes. OG Gideon probably knew this when he was macking on the corpse, seeing as both he and his Cav were fucking her. Although she ALSO very much tried to kill OG Gideon, so go figure. Wake was haunting Harrow and trying to steal her body. Apparently people were having trouble with this.

Things we do not know, but would like to.

1. ‘“Augustine”, he said, “if the man you were - the man you were before you died, before the Resurrection - could hear what you just said to me, he’d tear your throat out.” Augustine said, “Thanks for confirming that.” And then he was silent.’

So, this has some pretty legit implications right? Augustine has just told John to give up on his ‘invasion force’. So either Augustine has changed over 10,000 years and John hasn’t, or else Augustine was LITERALLY someone else before the resurrection. This leads in to the next thing that I Would Very Much Like to Know:

2. What the BALLS caused the Resurrection. What WAS the resurrection. Why was it necessary. Why does John need an invasion force? What, succinctly, the fuck is going on?

3. John says that he will forgive OG Gideon for failing to “fix or put down” Harrow. A scant page later he says that he “was trying to save her”. Save her. By ‘putting her down’. That’s not the language you use for someone you’re trying to save. That’s the language you use to minimise what you’re doing. What the fuck was John doing. Who was he manipulating. He told Harrow he wished she was his daughter. He asked OG Gideon to try and kill her. Why. What the fuck my dude.

3. The Stoma at the bottom opened for John. They’re only supposed to open for the Resurrection Beasts. “some kind of heinous underworld that only opened for the undead souls of monstrous planets”. What the fuck IS John, at this point? I can’t help remember that he had bodies and souls left from the Resurrection - he used them at the start of the book to rejuvenate the Ninth House and ‘buy’ Harrow. I’m reminded of Teacher from Gideon, who was 50 men. Of Harrow herself, who is 200 children. How many is John? Cytheria said she was doing her work on behalf of the 10 billion. The population of earth in the presents near future? of the solar system? Going back around to an earlier point, WHAT DID JOHN DO.

4. Gideon-in-Harrow is saved by the body. By Alecto, who speaks “with the wrong voice twice removed”. Whose voice? Why is it wrong? Who is she talking to when she asks for chest compressions? I assume she’s with Blood of Eden? With the Sixth and Coronabeth?

5. The Harrow who wrote the letters still knows more than we do. She knew that Camilla was around, that Corona was, that Judith was. She knew enough to know that Judith would need to be muted instantly.

6. The Epilogue. To me the implication is that they have Harrow’s body, but do not know who is driving. They give the bones and the sword, and look for a reaction.

7. Gideon’s body. Where is it. The assumption is that Blood of Eden have it. Why.

8. Oh, Gideon outright states that Ianthe was playing games with Harrow, up to and including lying about seeing Cytheria’s body under her bed (fucking nightmare fuel right there by the by). Not surprising, but oddly specific if just doing it for shits and giggles. Could just be that Ianthe assumed Harrow was doing all the made shite on her own and just egging her along, could be something else. Doubt we’ll find this one out, I’m probs overthinking.

I’m definitely missing a lot. I could also list the fucking effortlessly cool shit that keeps happening in this book, but this is long enough.

#Harrow the Ninth #Harrow the ninth spoilers #The Locked Tomb #The Locked Tomb spoilers #Tamsyn Muir #this is a fucking long post #and I'm not joking about the spoilers

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threeeyesslitthroat · 4 years

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So I watched Chaos Walking(2021)

Yeah, lucky for me, my local theater was open and showing(side note, I love my local theater so much. Like, not to brag but seven dollars for a movie and a snack is so great)

Anyhow, I watched Chaos walking. This is sort of my review.

First off, I read The Knife of Never Letting Go and one third of The Ask and Answer, almost two years ago. When they finally dropped the release date and the trailer, i made the choice not to go reread the first book because i wanted to give the movie a chance and make an exercise of managing my expectations(in preparation for Disney’s Percy Jackson adaptation). Which means not only do I not have a complete understanding of the source material, but I also have a shit memory, so I don’t have a great shot at analyzing this films in adaptation terms, but i’m gonna try anyhow.

So first off, The Noise.

I found it a bit sketchy that they decided to make the make Noise have visual elements alongside audio but I decided it was fine, since it be pretty hard to bring this to life with only just audio and not make general audiences confused.

But they did try and do a solid job. Minus not letting us hear the Noise of animals, which sucks. we do see the Noise of a Spackle, but briefly.

The part that really pisses me off is the final confrontation, when the Noise is treated like a Super Power. we see this when Todd scares Davy’s horse by conjuring up an image of big snake, when Mayor Prentiss tricks Viola into a false trap, when Ben tricks everyone by pretending to give Viola up when in fact he’s buying Todd and the real Viola time to get away, and in the final, Todd distracts Prentiss by conjuring up the image of his mother(complete with bloody wounds) and the various women that died when he was a baby, which caused Prentiss to fall to his death.

I don’t know how the Noise is depicted in the later books, if it was anywhere remotely like this, but i know for sure it doesn’t happen in the first book, which the film is based on.

(Also, how the fuck does Todd know what his mum looks like, or any of the other women and how is he able to bring up their images so perfectly how is ANYONE ABLE REMEMBER SOMEONE WITH THAT MUCH DETAIL That goes beyond photographic memory)

Second bit, the Spackle.

The design is boring. Its clearly an alien, buts its dark grey, tall, holds its own when Todd attacks it in the film, has zero impact on the film as a whole and pretty boring. I do recall reading the book and imagining them to have faces similar to real world lemurs or Sloths, with big expressive eyes and such, but the CGI monster doesn’t emote for shit in this film. Todd comes at with a knife with every intention of killing it and it shrugs him off and walks away like it wasn’t fucking attacked my gods.

But in short, they only brought up the Spackle because they’re a thing in the world and it teased the bigger concepts of the next books with like, one measly exchange between Todd and Viola. (it went something like this)

Viola:We’re the aliens, though. They’re the natives.

Todd: huh.

Third bit, New World itself. Not a big deal, It looked like how i originally imagined it, no mention of swamp apples, though we see Todd Hewitt use a knife to stab a big ass bug thing for food. i hear some critics consider it lame that the planet isn’t actually alien but eh, whatever, Didn’t really feel an alien vibe reading the book so it doesn’t matter.

Now there’s one bit i have to acknowledge in passing. At one point Todd decides to go get lunch by going into the water with his knife and wrestles with some big ass thing with tentacles. Which is fine, just have a couple of questions.

A: is this in reference to the books? Where there big ass tentacle creatures in the novel that are hunted for lunch?

B:if not, was this the film makers deciding to remind the viewers that yes, they are not on planet earth and to make Todd look cooler and justify why he’s useful for the quest and show how much Viola doesn’t know?

I kinda have to acknowledge the thing. In that scene, Todd and Viola take a break, and Todd removes his clothes (all of them) and decides to go hunting in the water naked as the day he was born. You may have noticed that the Tom Holland stans are all over this scene because One) the camera focuses on Tom Hollands muscles when he takes his top off and Two) one can see his bare ass in the distance.

Not a big fan off this, just find it interesting because its the most recent example of a Male being objectified by the camera when this never happens once to any of the female characters in the film, including Viola. Also, a touch of weird character detailing because haha, get it? Boy’s never seen a girl before in his life and doesn’t know what modesty means.

Also, very weird because Todd Hewitt in the book was so fucking self conscious that he would never have done that.

Now I gotta talk about the characters.

( i understand why they aged them up, i truly do, better to get established actors instead of child actors that could more easily break to movie than sell it. its easier to make movies with legal adults instead of working with child labor laws. but damn it you lose so much of the fucking nuance of the novel when you age them up. There’s so much shit that makes an impact because of how young they are. Around the ages of eleven and twelve is when ones understanding of good and evil has its foundation, to me it was like the story was grappling with Todd Hewitt’s very soul and you lose so much of that when you change it to them being older because instead of being just kids in fucked up situations its younger adults in messed up situations. Like ugh. and aging them up leads to even more problems but we’ll fucking get to that)

Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt is not the Todd Hewitt of the novel. He just ain’t. There is nothing there that reminds of the boy. The acting is solid, don’t get me wrong, but it just ain’t the Todd Hewitt i remember. Neither is Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade.

(excuse me while i get Percy Jackson flashbacks)

Now, I have to acknowledge the fact that neither actor(actually none of the actors in this film) slouch on the job. They bring solid and at times very good acting.(If Tom Holland is in the film, its not going to be complete waste of time. He brings quality.)

Honestly, respect to Mr Holland because he was basically the main character, not only acting but also doing voice and various stunts(also huge credit to the stunt coordinators and stuntmen) and I heard that filming wasn’t that great and bloody broke his nose how many times like damn boy, hats off to you.

But here’s the thing. I don’t want to say that Holland was playing himself or just a version of peter Parker, because i really don’t think he wasn’t but it just. Didn’t feel like a legit character? Especially when compared to the novel. Like Todd Hewitt in the novel is such a raw force of emotion and such a smartass and i was so looking forward for Holland to own this role but in the movie he just? Awkward dude going through some stuff?

but yeah, Holland works his ass off and there are some scenes and moments in the movie that work just because this fellow is just that charming, so (shrug emoji) like i said, He doesn’t waste your time at least.

Ridley....sigh. i know this woman can act. But next to the character who’s thoughts are heard constantly she’s very boring. And it hurts so much because Viola has an actual personality in the novel like; I’m ninety percent sure that Viola hits Todd with a big stick and I do remember that there were multiple moments where she lets Todd know when he’s being a dumbass.(seriously, i may have a shit memory of the book, but i do remember that they play off each other well and hugely entertaining seeing two twelve-year-olds handle the shit getting thrown at them)

Like, Viola in the film doesn’t really have much going on. We see the crash, we hear about the graves she dug herself, we see her be sad, we see her look at Todd like weirdo, we see her look horrified or shocked. (its so sad that I only remember the facial expressions more clearly than the actual dialogue) We really have no idea what the hell is going on with Viola Eade. I don’t think we can blame Ridley, only the film makers, because how can you see Viola Eade in the novel and then turn her into that????

i do have to talk about the relationship between Tom Holland’s Todd Hewitt and Daisy Ridley’s Viola Eade, even though its painful. In the novel, them is just two kids on a really tough adventure. Because they aged them up, its not two kids old enough to run for the playground when recess starts. Its Teenagers.

First question, HOW OLD ARE THEY??? Is Todd sixteen? Eighteen? Seventeen? He sure as hell ain’t Thirteen in this. What about Viola? I mean, big shout out to the hair and makeup team for making 28-year-old Daisy Ridley look so much younger but how. OLD. IS.SHE? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? Pretty sure she’s older than him in this? I ask because it MATTERS.

The way they play off each other has a vastly different energy to the novel because they are aged up. Its pretty obvious pretty fast that Todd’s feelings are basically a big crush, though not all of it is superficial as the film progresses. And Viola is clearly not receptive to that in the film. (honestly i cringed so hard at the “daydream kiss’ and whatever the hell that was in the Farbranch mayor’s house)

The relationship in the film just doesn’t have the nuance or the energy that the novel had in depicting their relationship which is depressing for all the Todd x Viola fans i’m sure. There’s some adorable bits though, like Viola seeing Todd’s dream of her playing with Manchee, and not so adorable canon bits like when Viola read the diary to Todd.

I’m just grateful that the film at least ended with them being friends instead of trying to force the romantic relationship. That right there is why I like the movie. It’s a crush, its used for a couple laughs, they’re friends, its fine. Even if you didn’t read the novel that’s really great for a movie in this day and age to not end with forcing two opposite sex characters into a relationship. To be honest, I like the idea that the film leaves us thinking that yeah, maybe these two could be real friends one day.

I just want to touch on Manchee real quick.

Manchee’s Noise is not seen or heard in the film. It is briefly acknowledged by Todd ins their first scene but other than that? Nada. Which is a low blow in comparison to the novel because Manchee was a character in his own right, which is why the death hit so hard.

Todd?” he barks, confused and scared and watching me leave him behind. “Todd?” “Manchee!” I scream. Aaron brings his free hand towards my dog. “MANCHEE!” “Todd?” And Aaron wrenches his arms and there’s a CRACK and a scream and a cut-off yelp that tears my heart in two forever and forever. And the pain is too much it’s too much it’s too much and my hands are on my head and I’m rearing back and my mouth is open in a never-ending wordless wail of all the blackness that’s inside of me.”

in the film, it takes place in white rapids, So its chaotic, its awful, the veiwer’s all stressed out because Viola can’t swim, everyone's getting separated and Aaron’s there and he is seen drowning Manchee.

Dude, its brief, but not pretty. Because you can see Manchee’s legs trashing above the water, struggling to get free. Aaron is drowning a dog, letting its lungs fill with water. For the folks that don’t like watching dogs die in graphic detail on screen, this isn’t great.

Personally, I love this scene in the novel. Its the first time i had to put the book down and take a moment. It hit really close to home for me, because i watched my own dog die in real life. It was emotional and horrifying and had such a fucking impact because we could hear his thoughts. Todd had to make the choice to leave him behind to keep Viola safe. To be honest, i think the death is better in the novel, since Manchee basically dies instantly instead of drowning, which takes time(I’ve always assumed that his neck was snapped but I’ve heard others say it was the psine but whatever) it would have been easy and necessary for them to not show that on screen. I personally just think that in terms of depicting a violent death, the novel did a lot better.

Anyway, on to the other characters

(I had to choose the one with the big orange fluffy coat, and i couldn’t find a good pic og Ben and Cillian on google images.)

As for Mayor Prentiss, he’s played by Mads Mikkelsen, and he delivers. But for the most part, we don’t really know why he’s the bad guy, he just wants to get Viola because “she’s the key” which isn’t really explained, and at the end he tries his hardest to kill Todd.

Because i only read the first book, I don’t know what exactly his character arc is. And since its been a really long while, I don’t remember what he’s like in the novel regardless, other than the cliffhanger ending.

I did take a quick crashcourse through the wiki and it turns out that Todd and Prentiss have a relationship in the later books, which the film sort of touches on, because Todd looks up to Prentiss in the film from the get go.

To be honest, I knew that the trilogy was a lot more complex, and even though I didn’t read the whole thing I knew it would be really disappointing for the fans to see the mayor be hollowed out to almost unrecognizable and not getting to see the whole picture on screen.

As for Davy Prentiss Jr., he was an asshole and stayed an asshole. I know he improves and gets killed off in the novels, so yeah, exhibit B of character foundations not being laid down because there isn’t gonna be a movie after this. Also, why is he played by Nick Jonas? Did they actually have more in mind for him when they decided to go with a Jonas brother or was it just star power?

As for Aaron...don’t have much to say about him, other than just being pretty weird fit to the film. I think he’s after Viola because he’s just that full of delusions but other than that, his character is just flat and useless. (I wish to the gods that writers would actually think instead of going with “religious delusion” to explain insanity) He only brought tension in a few scenes for the most part. I’m pretty sure that in the novel Todd and Aaron have a confrontation, like the final fight of the novel, and I’m 90% sure that its where the Novel gets the Knife of never Letting Go as its title, because the knife is big deal at that point. But I guess they wanted Viola to have a quick boss battle for the ending and set him on fire.

Ben and Cillian were fine. They did a good job, the actors were pretty great, I liked Cillian, and i like how they acknowledged that these dudes were family(i know that they’re gay and a couple but the film doesn’t say it outloud beyond letting them sleep in the same bed, be Todd’s parents, and having Ben hold Cillian in his arms) I get a kick out of the fact that the official reviews by Movie Critics are openly curious about why the film doesn’t make it more obvious that they’re gay, but whatever.

As for the overall plot, this is a fine example of mashing three books into one film and not having good results. Instead of going to Haven, the movie decided to shortcut the ending and go to the original ship that somehow has working tech but whatever, Viola needs to communicate to her ship. So not only do we not get the great relationship between Todd and Viola, not only do we not get the Spackle, Not only do we not get to see the noise of Manchee, not only do we have poor character adaptation, we also don’t get to have a plot that matches THE ONE BOOK THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO ADAPT. THEY HAD ONE FUCKING JOB AND THEY COULDN'T ADAPT THE ONE BOOK-

Its only so sad that they decided that this was going to be a one-shot deal because they didn’t have faith in the film and chose to have all the threads tied up. I mean, its so sad for the fans because the movie makes it very clear that we are not going to have anymore movies. sigh.

slight respect towards the film makers for tying up all the story threads instead of leaving them hanging. they did a neat job, even if it wasn’t a great one.

Anyway, maybe later on when google images has more than the promotional material I’ll do a review of only the good stuff this movie did, even if its a sad pathetic failure of an adaptation. Anyway this review is a bit of a mess and already so long so i’ll stop now.

May the gods give us strength against all the Tom Holland stans that will inevitably clog up the Chaos Walking tag with their Todd Hewitt x reader fanfics.

#Threeeyes speaks for once #messy film review #took forever to do this #i truly do feel for the Chaos walking fandom #As a Percy Jackson fan #I can only say #First Time?#Chaos Walking #Knife of Never Letting Go #Tom Holland 2021 #Daisy Ridley 2021 #Viola Eade #Todd Hewitt #Chaos Walking 2021

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buckstaposition · 4 years

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I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable.

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami.

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly.

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure."

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day.

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to.

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone.

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you."

"And I'm the asshole..."

"So everyone keeps saying."

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it.

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table.

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up.

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist.

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further.

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree.

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for.

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them.

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office.

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña."

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you."

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know."

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another.

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it.

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind.

"Why me?"

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?"

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead.

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all.

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses.

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón."

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes.

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?"

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded.

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly.

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her.

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor.

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look.

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it.

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something.

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting.

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly.

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit."

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking.

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel.

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy.

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze.

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage?

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries.

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse.

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that.

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery.

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood.

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal.

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around.

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat.

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to."

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read.

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it.

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something."

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous.

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat.

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness.

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band.

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling.

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels.

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?"

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things:

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with.

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all.

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful.

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus.

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints.

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough.

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh.

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation.

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña."

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?"

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her.

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

-------------------------------------------------------

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

#narcos (tv)#javier pena x ofc #series #I cling to your lips like gloss (series)#multipart #javier peña #narcos #narcos fanfic #javier peña fanfic #my writing #part 1 #like gloss tag

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sambergscott · 5 years

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i'll be with you wherever you are

i actually managed to finish a fic!!! suck it writer’s block!!!!

also thank u to emma for letting me use baby maya, love u!!! 💖💝💗💕💘💓💞

It’s been a long week without him. There’s been lots of tears (from both mama and baby), sleepless nights and pointing up at the sky everytime an airplane passes over the city, asking if it’s dada coming home. Thank God for FaceTime, but even regular FaceTime calls do not suffice when all the two year old wants is to cuddle her daddy.

She doesn’t know how single or separated parents cope.

It’s killing Jake too, she knows from their private FaceTime calls after she’s finally managed to get Maya down to sleep. This is the longest he’s ever been away from their daughter -- and the longest he’s been away from Amy since he was stuck in that Safe House with Kevin -- and it sucks. He’s in California for a family funeral with Karen and he would’ve flown back by now if he didn’t have to stay to support his emotional, grieving mother.

“I feel like a crappy wife because I’m not there with you,” she confesses during one of their calls, tears threatening to spill over for the hundredth time since she had to make the difficult decision to stay at home. She’s almost 34 weeks pregnant with their second and it was touch-and-go whether the airline would let her fly across the country. They concluded that it would be safer for her to just stay at home with Maya. It’s not like funerals are not the best place for two year olds either, but still. She feels guilty as hell.

“Ames,” his voice softens, “we talked about this. It’s not your fault. You’re pregnant. You couldn’t get here.”

“But your aunt died. I could’ve bribed the airline, got special permission from the doctor, done something --.”

“You sent flowers and have called and texted constantly to make sure I’m OK. You’ve done plenty, babe. You have nothing to feel guilty about. Besides,” he says, “if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for knocking you up.”

Amy rolls her eyes. “Way to take the romance out of it, Peralta.”

“I put the Whomping Willow in your Chamber of Secrets?”

“Worse.”

“Fine, we created a new, beautiful life through our love making.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Charles,” she responds sarcastically. Although she is in complete agreement that their next child will be beautiful (just like their big sister), she disputes his original point that he was the one to get her pregnant. They both wanted another one. The re-appearance of Four Drink Amy after he ordered Kamikaze shots may have just extradited the process.

A familiar cry coming through the baby monitor cuts their conversation short.

“I’ll be home in two days,” he reminds her.

“Two days, seven hours and eleven minutes. Not that I’m counting or anything,” she adds, her cheeks burning.

“You’re seriously the best wife ever. Love you.”

“Love you too,” she whispers. She has just enough time to send Karen her best wishes and lower the phone to her belly so he can say goodnight to Bump before Maya’s cries get even louder and she really has to go.

(btw, he texts her as she soothes their baby girl, my dad -- a legit crappy spouse -- hasn’t even texted my mom once. me and maya and baby #2 are so lucky to have you. 💖💝💗💕💘💓💞)

(She’s so touched that she doesn’t even correct his grammar).

The following two days, seven hours and eleven minutes feel like a lifetime. In reality, it’s nothing compared to his stints in Florida and South Carolina where she didn’t know if she’d ever see him again, but it’s long enough. She lets out an audible sigh of relief when she gets the text that they’ve landed and are through security.

“Dada’s nearly home,” she updates a cranky Maya in the backseat of their Accord, sending Jake a quick description of where they’re parked. Motherhood has really honed her multi-tasking capabilities. “Are you excited about seeing dada?”

“Dada?” She looks around hopefully for him. Her face crumples when she realises he’s still MIA. To Amy, “Where dada?”

“He’s coming, baby. He’s coming.”

She turns up the Disney playlist they’d been listening to on the drive to the airport (it’s basically all they listen to these days), effectively distracting her for a couple of minutes.

She’s so busy singing to Moana that she doesn’t notice Jake approach until he taps at her window.

“DADA!” She squeals, desperately trying to reach for him through the glass.

He laughs, opening the door, expertly undoing her safety harnesses and pulling her into his arms as quick as he can. “I’ve missed you too, Maya-Moo,” he says, grinning at Amy like he did the first time he said it back when she was one month old and proclaimed that he was basically Shakespeare. Two years in, he’s still saying it constantly. Amy would find it annoying if it wasn’t so damn cute.

She climbs out the car (a task that is becoming increasingly difficult as her baby grows from an apple to an eggplant to a butternut squash) and hugs Karen, who can’t help but notice Amy’s longing glances in Jake’s direction.

“Go join them,” she instructs, nodding at the adorable father-daughter moment happening in the middle of the airport car park.

Karen lets her go and Amy takes a few steps towards them. She taps Jake on the shoulder. “Room for one more?”

“Always,” he responds, kissing her gently before wrapping his arms around his three favourite people. “I missed you guys so much. I’m never leaving ever again.”

“Please don’t,” she murmurs into his chest, closing her eyes and cherishing the warmth of his embrace.

She’s forced back to reality when a large SUV honks their horn at them to move out the empty parking space and holds her hand up in apology as she puts Maya back in her car seat while Jake loads the bags into the trunk.

“Let’s go home,” he declares once everyone is ready.

He drops his hand to her thigh and keeps it there the entire drive home, simultaneously making funny faces at Maya in the rearview mirror. The sound of the two year old’s laughter is the best soundtrack to any drive Amy’s ever had. She’s so glad he’s home.

#my writing #jake x amy #b99 fics #no idea how good this is #just relieved to have actually finished something

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anchanted-one · 4 years

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Harry Potter Talk

Settle in everyone, this is going to be a long one.

So a couple of days ago, I saw a massive anti-HP (the character) rant that really irritated me that I wanted to address.

Before I do, let's address the transphobic in the room. Rowling. Transphobia is detestable, and not wanting to support the series while that directly benefits and enriches her is a super valid stance. Also my personal stance, we support the trans people in this house!

Now that that's out of the way.

"Harry Potter, jock from a wealthy family" or something to that effect.

Regardless of how big his bank account is, remember how Harry was brought up? And by whom?

The Dursleys. The magic-hating child-abusers. Who forced Harry to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs for eleven years. Who gave him Dudley's things secondhand. His mother's sister was so unwilling to spend a dime on him that she was dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray to use as Harry's school uniform.

His cousin Dudley, who delighted in tormenting him, and whose gang joined him in beating up Harry whenever Dudley felt bored enough that he wanted to beat him up for fun.

Is this the upbringing of a "rich jock"? He never used much of his wealth in the Muggle world and even in his school years he seems to know the importance of restraint, and sharing (in book one, he's delighted to be able to share with Ron, and in book four he gives the Twins a thousand galleons without a second thought). Dudley was the one who got thirty-six presents on his birthday and threw a fit coz it was less than what he'd got the previous year. Harry got a used tissue for Christmas. He was the one so not expecting any gifts at all that his best friend's mother packed him a hand-knitted sweater for him, and made his day.

Jock? He played the loneliest position in the Quidditch team. The Chasers and Keepers work together as a team, and the Beaters too, but Seekers are ignored by everyone--including the team--until it becomes apparent that they've spotted something.

Harry was quite popular when he joined the school, but that popularity mostly manifested as people pointing at his scar and whispering about him. Most made him uncomfortable. He only ever had a few friends he was comfortable with.

There were long periods when he was in fact an outcast. That time he lost fifty points for the thing with the dragon, or the time when the Ministry and the Newspapers had turned the entire Wizarding world against him. The time his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all Houses except Gryffindor treated him like shit, and even the Gryffindors, while they were cheering for him, weren't paying much mind when he was saying that he didn't do it, or that he needed support. That one time, even Ron didn't stay by his side. He was all alone but for Hermione.

The only time he fit the bill of the jock was in book six, when he was too obsessed with what Malfoy was doing to give a damn about his newfound popularity. That was also when he chose the company of outcasts like Neville and Luna over popular hangers-on.

Yes, there are legit reasons to hate the character; he has a massive hero complex. He routinely gets his friends into trouble because of it. He has a very narrow and myopic perspective because of which he doesn't notice much outside of his mystery-hunter track (there was a time when I could illustrate that point better, but it's been a decade and more since I read the last book. I wanted to better read up before talking about this, but I can't bring myself to binge-read like I used to)

By contrast, yes James Potter was a 'jock'. But that's reason to hate him, not his son. Harry, when he sees Snape's worst memory, is rightly horrified. When Remus tries to make the "we were just fifteen" excuse, Harry reminds him "I'm fifteen!". (It should also be noted that Snape's memories obviously show his nemesis at his worst, whereas Remus Lupin--the Werewolf--tells Harry repeatedly that James and Sirius were there for him when no one else was. James risked his life to fight Voldemort, whereas Snape was happily on Voldy's side until that one person he cared about was marked for death by the Prophecy©. Snape was also an abusive bully well until he died--just ask Neville. Dumbledore has also told Harry that memories are fickle things, which can be changed, so the chances that Snape simmered in this memory and unconsciously distilled it to make his old nemeses seem even worse--or himself seem like the angel who wouldn't hurt a fly--also exist. As someone who's experienced bullying, mockery, etc, I know this self-serving tendency of memory quite well. Though this bit is speculation on my part. )

Regarding the sillier names like Pansy Parkinson, and mean descriptions

In addition, when the series began, it started as a children's series, hence the Roald Dahl-like non-villain bad guys of the early part, and the "hate-me-I'm-nasty" names they were given. The Dursleys. Dudley Dursley aka Dudders. "Pansy Parkinson". Everyone was more caricature than character. That's how they are in children's books.

Many people are also described in a way to make the reader immediately dislike them. Malfoy is pale, with a pointy chin. Snape is an oily man with a large beaked nose and greasy hair. Rita Skeeter has a mannish jaw. Umbridge has a face like a toad. All of this is again in keeping with the Roald Dahl theme. Whether it's Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Mike Teavee, Violet Beauregarde or their mannerisms and descriptions make readers feel an instant dislike for them.

When the series became more... Mature, those caricatures can start finding their critics. Never mind that such caricatures and worse can be found in thousands of other works, like Superhero comics for instance. Yes, no one names their children "Pansy" but Slytherin was an allegory for white supremacist type people. Back in those days, JK wanted them to be hated without reserve, much as she wanted bigotry and racism to be (irony, considering where she stands today).

Death of the Author

In the text there is no real transphobia that I can remember, other than that description of Rita having a "mannish jaw" (I admit that I haven't read it in ages, but I am still certain of this). Once the material is out in print, everyone is free to interpret it as they choose. Whenever JK comes out with clarifications or retcons or something--as she is known to do anyway--it's still more of her headcanon than in-world truth. If there is no outright mention of something in the text, then it doesn't matter what meaning the author intended to convey. What matters is what each reader makes of it. In the case of Harry Potter, the enemy are clearly folks obsessed with blood purity: Purebloods.

Lazy names

I'm going to speak specifically about the Indian names here: Parvati and Padma Patil.

While India is a large country and the name is more common in certain regions than others, I had heard that Patel/Patil surname is quite common in Britain. And really in Indian cinema the most common girls' names are Priya (Big Bang Theory as well) or Pooja, many girls in this side of the screen have goddess names. Like "Parvati". Many people also keep the same first letter for names for twins, or even in families (for instance, my parents, sister, and I, all have names starting with "A"), so "Padma" is a nice choice of name. And really, Padma and Parvati Patil are much better names than "Khan Noonien Singh" (now there's a lazy name).

Everyone insists that Star Trek's Khan is supposed to be of Indian origin, but with a name like that and an actor with a Mexican accent... I don't really think so. It was because of this silly character generation that I didn't particularly mind him being played by the very white Benedict Cumberbatch.

But the Patil twins. Them I can feel that connection to.

Races of the main cast

Now this might be something contentious, so I apologise for that in advance.

No one cares what Harry is, though since Petunia is noted as being pale, and Lily has red hair, the unknown factor is James Potter. Was he black? That would make Harry biracial at best.

Ron is written as a freckled boy with red hair, and all Weasleys share that look.

As for Hermione... She is the poster child of the blood-purity bigotry bias. When reading her, people are supposed to understand that the prejudice against her is certainly her Muggle-born origin; not her skin color, not her nationality, not her sexual orientation. Which is why I feel it's necessary that she stand out as less as possible in those other ways. For this reason I think that it was a good idea to portray her as white.

Here are characters who are specifically noted as black: Dean Thomas, Michael Corner (both of whom were Ginny's boyfriends), Kingsley Shacklebolt, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Lee Jordan, Blaise Zabini (who's noted as being very handsome, and quite popular). Aside from these we have a few token people of Indian and Chinese origin. Speaking again as an Indian, I don't really mind. This is a British story set in a mid-nineties British school only accepting students from the British Isles. It makes sense to me if there are few Indians.

What does all of this translate to? There are legit reasons to hate both the character and the series. So don't make stuff up, especially if you're ignoring the text to do it. Don't confuse the author and their work, even if you have resolved not to buy that work and thereby support her.

#Harry Potter #In defense-ish of #My opinion #Bigass post

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queerbitchdiaz-archived · 5 years

Note

If you ever have more thoughts on Ian and Mickey "Smith" I'd LOVE for you to share them - it sounds so fucking funny. I personally keep picturing it like they're the only two people not from Regular Sitcom World, trying to fit in. I can already tell this one'll keep coming back to me when I'm tryin to sleep, legit thank you

lmao this is a bad idea because i’m gonna get even more attached to this idea and i don’t think it would translate great into fanfiction. it would need to be an actual show to truly be something amazing, but here - have some headcanons:

in the beginning, background characters would just walk right into their house (cosmo kramer style) and ian and mickey are both like ‘wtffff’ this is OUR house!!

in the beginning they feel like they’re faking a bit, even though they moved to california because they legit wanted that kind of life, but after a while they settle in.

ian goes to therapy because he has bipolar disorder (or some other mental illness, it doesn’t have to be bd, this is an original character ok) and he forces mickey to come with him, and they start going to couples therapy, and mickey pretends that he doesn’t like it, but it actually helps them out, and they bark less at each other in their day-to-day life.

mickey becomes friends with all the old husbands in the neighbourhood, and he listens to them complain about their wives. they ask him about ian, but he honestly doesn’t have a lot to complain about, and hearing about their issues with their wives just makes him appreciate ian even more.

mickey may not complain to the old men about ian, but they surely get along well and he finally has people to complain about all the other shit that bothers him about the neighbourhood - like the eighty year old man we all know he truly is inside.

mickey and ian are both annoyed with the whole foods and the other pretentious grocery stores, they just want their costco back, but whenever anybody points out that they could just... go to costco, they ignore them, because the reality is that after a few months of eating the stuff from whole foods, they kind of appreciate the supposed high quality items.

ian gets a job as an english teacher (if this hadn’t been an original character, perhaps i would remind you that this character that he would have been based off has been confirmed to be good at english, but this is an original character, like i said, so i won’t) and all the female teachers (and a couple males) all hit on him, and he comes home exhausted, and complains to mickey, who just laughs when ian asks him to confirm that they’ll be together forever, just so he’ll never have to date again.

“stay with me forever” “that’s so fucking sweet, you’re gonna put me in a sugar coma, the fuck’s happened?” “they’re all hitting on me, i don’t ever wanna have to date again” “so you’re just settling, huh?” “yeah. settling for the best man i’m ever gonna meet in my entire life” “yeah, i’m going into that coma now” “shut the fuck up, kiss me.”

mickey works as a mechanic and his hands get really dry from all the scrubbing he has to do to get the black oil stains off, so ian asks the old women around the neighbourhood what they use, and he buys the most expensive lotion they can afford, and he puts it on mickey’s hands despite his huffing and puffing (which fades as he has to muffle his moans because hand massages actually feel really good)

ian and mickey want to adopt kids and start a family, but since we can assume that the two grew up around adoptions that weren’t exactly... legal (we don’t know exactly, because remember, these are original characters. not connected to any other show, ok) they struggle to figure out how to handle it - and also how to supply the right documents, and hide their (implied) criminal past.

eventually they end up getting a foster kid, a girl around eleven years old - Hayley. she fits in perfectly in the californian suburbs, but they figure out quickly that she’s very smart, and quite mischievous. it doesn’t take her more than a few weeks for her to figure out that they avoid any conversations about their previous lives.

ian and mickey don’t tell hayley about anything, but she asks and asks, and once she’s been living with them for a few months, she pretty much knows the gist of everything. she ends up having to teach them certain things about the suburbs, and how things work - how to walk, how to talk.

they adopt hayley eventually of course.

more kids!! they end up adopting another - a baby boy, this time. his name is Elijah, and mickey complains that it’s a name that’s too fancy, but ian likes it, so it stays.

even when they have lived in california for a few years, they still sometimes struggle to shake their old habits - the neighbours have told ian that he looks unapprochable, so he works on wiping away his scowl. mickey’s stays, of course.

hayley and ian conspire to get a puppy, and surprise mickey one day, close to christmas, when he’s home, taking care of a sick elijah. they expect mickey to grumble, to keep his street-rep up, but he actually can’t help but smile at the lhasa apso puppy - which they all agree to name Rose, after mickey’s mother - and the dog doesn’t really care about ian, hayley, or elijah. she’s always with mickey. if she’s not in his arms, then she’s running after his feet, sending him cursing when he has to trip over his own feet to keep from tripping over her.

just!!! happy!!! husbands!!!! with kids!!! and a dog!!!! in the suburbs!!!! struggling!!! to fit in!!! but they’re happy!!!! and funny!!!!!

I would not be opposed to continuing posting some of these sometimes I’m honestly so into this idea.

#ian x mickey #gallavich #THEY'RE NOT GALLAVICH BUT I'M TAGGING IT ANYWAY bc yknow #lmao #the smiths: headcanons

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years

Text

The Start of the Nightmare

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

So, Stitched Together sequel thing. This is sorta dealing with how all the boys fit into this AU, so it’s gonna be longer than Stitched, and possibly not as interesting character development wise, but what can you do

tagging @septic-dr-schneep for the original idea

“You are lucky to not be dead.”

Jack couldn’t help but poke at the wound on his neck. He winced. “I’m lucky I know the best doctor in the world,” he said quietly. He didn’t want to tear the stitches.

Schneep huffed, but couldn’t hold back a smile. “Well, yes, I am a qualified doctor. But that is no reason for you to play with knives.”

“It was Halloween, bro.” Chase piped up for the first time since his arrival. He was leaning against the doorway of the hospital room, trying his best to look casual when he’d just been hovering nervously by Jack seconds before. “Pumpkin carving is a tradition, you know. How was he supposed to know he’d cut himself?”

Jack shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed. For a moment, he wondered if he should just stay silent. But honesty was always the best policy. If what happened was real, then they had a serious threat to deal with. If it wasn’t, then they could figure out why the hell he was seeing things. “Well, actually, guys...I didn’t exactly do it myself.”

Immediately, Schneep and Chase jumped to attention. “Why? What happened?” “Should we call the police?”

“No, I...you guys are gonna think I’m crazy,” Jack sighed.

“No way, dude.” Chase shook his head. “We’d never think that.”

“I—you haven’t even heard what it is.” Jack muttered. “Okay, here goes...so, like, for a couple weeks now, I’ve had a feeling like something is watching me. But not at times when that would make sense, I mean all the time. And sometimes I’d see things out of the corner of my eye, or hear whispers that aren’t there.”

“Jack, I do not think I am the right kind of doctor for these problems,” Schneep said, half-joking.

“No, no, let me finish. So, sometimes I’d get nosebleeds out of nowhere, and sometimes I started, like, walking down to the shop or something but then a split second later I’d be back home, like there was a—a glitch in the fabric of reality. And I’d start laughing or hearing laughter for no reason.”

“Okay...so what does that have to do with this business?” Chase asked.

“So, I was doing the video, just like normal, and I’d keep hearing noises. When I went to check them out, nothing. I got another nosebleed, heard more laughing, and just...it just seemed like everything that was happening that month got dialed up to eleven. And then, after I got the pumpkin all finished and was about to do some fine cleaning...I just—I fucking have no idea how to describe it. My arm was moving on its own and it was like—it was like there was someone else in my head, like...squeezing it. And this thing was controlling my arm and it—it did the thing.”

Silence. Jack tried not to squirm as his two friends exchanged glances. They looked worried. “Jack...what I said before was joke, but I really think you should talk to a different doctor,” Schneep suggested haltingly.

“You haven’t even heard the weirdest part.” Jack shook his head. “It—he talked to me. He called me weak...and...” He swallowed nervously. He didn’t really want to talk about the things he said after he cut his throat and used his body like a puppet. So he skipped to the most important part. “Anyway, after he left, or retreated, or whatever, I saw him. And he looked a lot like me, but...wearing different clothes. He looked like a living computer glitch.”

“You sure you weren’t just...hallucinating?” Chase asked. “I mean, you’d lost a lot of blood by the time I came to check on you.”

“I know, I know, it’s a real possibility. But the weirdest thing was his neck. It was—was also cut open, but it was stitched close. With green string. But it wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping the wound closed, and the stitches were pulling apart...and I got the strangest feeling I knew him.”

Schneep walked over to the counter nearby and grabbed a pen and pad of paper. He wrote down something real quick, then came back and handed it to Jack. “I think you should check out Dr. Laurens. She is very good. Not to say you have to, but I think it would help.”

“Wait, doc, hang on a second.” Chase frowned thoughtfully. “I think...maybe...”

Schneep glared at him. “Chase, do not encourage him,” he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep Jack from hearing. “I know you are wanting to help but it will not to do this.”

“All I’m saying is—I mean—I’m wondering—” Chase stopped, gathering his thoughts. “So, I know you remember what happened a little under a year ago. I do too.”

The doctor’s expression immediately darkened. Nobody needed a reminder of what happened to Marvin and Jackie. It was bad enough that the double murder—or possibly murder-suicide, nobody could agree—got an unholy amount of media attention, given that no one could figure out what actually happened. One had a slit throat, the other held the knife, both were dead but only one was injured, and they were inside a circle drawn on the floor like some sort of ritual. How and why did they even die? And then the police found Jackie’s super suit hidden in the closet and all sorts of shady websites on Marvin’s computer. That only made things more complicated.

“Well, it can’t be a coincidence that the same kind of cut appeared on Jack nearly a year later,” Chase pointed out. “And they were probably doing some kind of magic, right? Maybe black magic? Doesn’t what Jack said sound like he got attacked by a black magic demon or something?”

Jack smiled. He hadn’t really thought of the possibility that what happened to Marvin and Jackie could be connected to the thing that attacked him, but it was nice to know that Chase thought there was an explanation besides him being crazy. Schneep, on the other hand, looked doubtful. “I do not mean to speak ill of the dead, but Marvin believed in things that could not exist. If he dragged Jackie into his shit, then that was between them. But it had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“You don’t know that,” Chase snapped. “Maybe there was some sort of sacrifice or something, and things went wrong.”

“For god’s sake, do you really think Jackie would be part of black magic?” Schneep threw his hands up in the air. “Have you ever heard anyone speak out against evil more than him?”

“I mean...the dark side can be tempting, bro,” Chase mumbled.

“I am not being part of this. I am leaving, I have other patients to check on. Jack, please at least try to visit Dr. Laurens. She can help more that mindless speculation.” Schneep stuck around long enough to see Jack nod in agreement, then quickly left.

“Jack...you think that...” Chase hesitated, then said the next few words in a rush. “D’you think that if we find out more about what attacked you we could find out what happened to them?”

Jack hesitated. There was a bit of desperation shining in Chase’s eyes. No, actually, there was a lot. Jack couldn’t blame him. A lot of terrible shit had hit Chase at that moment in time, shit that led to...well, it made sense that he wanted his friends back. Jack did too. But also, he just really wanted to know what the deal with this thing was. Why was he targeting them? “I mean, maybe,” Jack shrugged. “It’s worth a shot. And if there’s really a demon out there, we need to protect ourselves. But how do we do that?”

The next day, Chase and Jack found themselves standing outside a little shop on the edge of town. The window showed a display made of books, amulets, and hanging talismans. The sign identified the shop as “Jackson Magick Emporium.”

“So, this place is, like, legit, right?” Chase asked.

Jack pulled on the bandages around his neck. “I mean, as much as one of these places can be. The website seemed to know what they were talking about, and there were good reviews from people who weren’t nutters. So...let’s go in.”

A bell ding-a-linged to announce their arrival into the shop. Chase blinked. “Good god, did we just step back in time or something?” The front room of the shop looked a lot like a living room from the early twentieth century, but with the addition of a counter with a cash register and price tags on the various knickknacks scattered on the tables. It was a pleasant place, pastel blue in color and well-lit with yellow lamps. But nobody was there.

“They head the bell, right?” Jack wondered, glancing over at the little silver instrument hanging by the door.

“Don’t see how they could’nt’ve.” Chase wandered over to one of the tables and picked up the leather-bound book on its surface. He turned it over in his hands. It did look like something Marvin would’ve had. This must be the right sort of place.

“I’d advise you to put that down.”

Chase jumped, looking around for the source of the voice. A well-dressed man in a blue vest and black hat was coming out of a door behind the counter. He...weirdly enough, he looked pretty similar to Jack and Chase, just with a mustache. Did Jack have some sort of doppelganger magnet attached to him?

“Sorry,” Chase mumbled, putting the book back.

“Quite alright. You had no idea. But I must warn you that it’s very old and fragile.” The man walked around the counter and approached the two. He gave a friendly smile and stuck out his hand. “My name is Jameson Jackson, but you may call me JJ if you like. Welcome to my shop. How may I help you?”

Jack shook his hand. “Hello. I’m Jack and this is my friend Chase. We, uh...” He looked over to Chase for support, but he just shrugged. “So I went onto your website and saw that you did a thing where you could get rid of, like...evil spirits and shit.”

“Well, I wouldn’t use that type of language,” JJ frowned. “But yes, that is correct.”

“Okay, so, you see...I mean it’s been happening for a while, but last night it really...really, um...” Jack fidgeted with the bandages again. “So, I’m not wearing these for fun. You see what I’m talking about?”

JJ’s brows furrowed. “Yes, I think I’m getting the gist of it. Why don’t we go into the other room? I can make us some tea and you can tell me everything, at your own pace of course.”

The other room looked pretty much the same, but red instead of blue and no items for sale. The main piece of furniture was a table and chairs in the center, but there were a few drawers and chests along the edge for holding things, along with a small stove. Jack and Chase sat down and spilled out the whole story, starting with Marvin and Jackie’s mysterious incident last year, and ending with Jack’s account of this thing taking control of his body and seeing it afterward. By the time their tale had ended, the tea was long finished. JJ set a cup in front of each of them, then joined them at the table. He leaned forward and rested his head on his hands.

“So, do you have any idea what your friends were actually messing about with?” he asked in a quiet voice, as if afraid someone would overhear.

Jack shook his head. “No, sorry.”

“They were in a circle?”

“Yeah, with candles around the edges. Is that...is that helpful?”

“Not very, unfortunately. Most spells—or at least, most heavy-duty spells—take place in a protective circle. It’s meant to protect the casters from outside dangers and keep any misfires contained inside. Do you remember anything else? Did they discover any spellbooks or charms?”

“I don’t remem—”

Chase interrupted. “Wait, I think...I think there was some weird things. A bunch of burned paper, and...and there were two weird necklaces, but...I dunno about those ones.”

“Explain.”

“Well, Schneep—he’s a friend of ours, a doctor—showed me the police report of the crime scene. They were both wearing them, and they were when he saw the bodies, but later, when he asked the cops about where those necklaces went, they swore there weren’t any.”

“Hmm...” JJ took a sip of the tea, thoughtful. “Disappearing amulets...that is unusual. Depending on their purpose, we could guess at the spell they were trying. Hang on.” He stood up, walked over to a chest and rummaged it, then came back with a book with a red cover. He opened it, revealing that the book had been patched together with pages tied into the lining, like an old-fashioned kind of binder. They were covered with ink drawings of various amulets, with explanations of what each did. “Did your friend happen to describe them?”

“Uhhh...” Chase cast a line back into the waters of memory. “This is a recall of a recall of a glance, so don’t take this too seriously. But they were white...a bit teardrop-shaped.”

“Wait wait wait I saw those!” Jack nearly knocked over his teacup in excitement. “He was wearing them! They had these weird designs on them, and they were glowing green.”

JJ slid the book toward him. “Do you think you could identify them?”

“Maybe...I didn’t really see them that good.” Jack started flipping through the pages, then suddenly stopped. He looked around. “It’s happening again...” he muttered. “I feel like someone’s watching us...”

Chase, confused, said “What?” But JJ didn’t hesitate, shooting to his feet and dashing to the drawers, pulling them open and glancing at the contents before slamming them shut again.

“What are you looking for?” Jack asked, nervous.

“Either protection or the source of that feeling,” Jameson explained. “If you can, help me look.”

“We don’t know—oh, alright.” Jack didn’t want a repeat of Halloween night. He stood up, pulled Chase upward too, and ran toward the drawers. He figured he’d know if something was important. The drawers were filled with books and loose papers with strange writing, crude dolls with paint on them, amulets and other magickal jewelry, and so many other talismans that Jack couldn’t identify. Nothing stood out.

Until Jack heard a sudden shriek.

His head whipped around, and he saw Chase standing in front of an open drawer with a look of absolute shock and horror on his face. He held something in his hand, a pair of teardrop-shaped amulets dangling from strings. They glowed green, but the glow couldn’t mask the cracks that marred their surfaces.

“Chase! Drop it!” Jameson yelled.

Startled, Chase did exactly that. The amulets clattered to the surface. There was a sound, a sound in the back of their minds that seemed to be coming from the broken talismans. It was a high whine, punctuated with electronic-sounding crackling. Or was it laughing?

“How’d they get there?” Chase asked, breathless.

“They came with him,” Jack muttered.

It was definitely laughter. Then Jack heard, directly in his ear, “I'm so p̶ro̡u̡d, J̷a��ck͝ie̴bo̢y.”

With a yelp, Jack whirled around, but nobody was there. Chase and Jameson, who’d apparently also heard something similar, were looking around wildly as well. The room seemed darker. The whine was growing louder.

“Where are you?” Jameson asked. “Show yourself!”

A giggle. “You’d lik̵e̵ that, wou̡l͞dn̕'͢t͝ yo͢u҉? A neat little ta͡r̴g̨et to throw your s͠p̛e͞l̡ls̶ at? Oh wait, Ì f͝ór͠g̕o̶t, you don’t a̦̝̤̱̥c̗̭͝t̮̤̭̝u͈̭͓̰͈a̦ḻl̩̦͈y̠͟ have any m̀͏ag̢ic̢..” The voice bounced around the room, seeming to come from the corner one moment and the center the next.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Jameson said.

“Oh, I̢̕ ̨͏k͏ǹ̸̕o͠w̸͠.” He sounded amused now.

“What are you?” Jack cried.

“Can’t you t̶e͟ll? I’m y̕͢o̢͞͠u̷̶ , of course, J̮̪̘̯͝à̵̟̣̻́ͅc̨̘̬͓͖̭̞̳̲̟k̛̼̣̝̞̹̹͍̬i̖̞̭͝e͏͓͢b̷̨̫̗̗̕o̤͔̝͖y̖͕̣.”

“N-no...” Jack whispered. “No, you’re not. If anything, you’re the anti-me.”

“ Ą̴̀n͢͠t͞í̶..oh, I l͟i̸̛ḱè̵ that. V͠e̡r̵y̛ m҉uch͝.”

“Great, you just named it,” Chase grumbled. Jack noticed his hands were shaking, and his eyes were darting everywhere.

He—Anti—laughed again, and the lights flickered at the same time. Jack felt the feeling of being watched lighten up, and the white noise seemed to shift...to Chase. “ Y̕o͞u’re putting on sųćh͢ a b̷͝r̴͞av̧̀e fa͏͝c̶͢e, but I can taste the f̛e̵̷a҉̨ŕ̶͝ i͝n͡ y̢o̕uŕ m͏̕͟i͟͠ǹ͞d̷̸̶. It’s dȩ̴l̛ic̶i͠o͡u̡s̸͢.”

The flickering intensified. Jack’s eyes widened as Chase’s shadow shifted, contorted, then stepped away from the wall. “Chase, watch out!” Jack yelled. He started to run toward him, and Chase himself tried to turn around, but it was too late. Anti was real, and he was holding a knife to Chase’s throat.

Jack froze in place.

“ G̨ood i̢ḑeà, J̷̶a̧ck͏̷i̛e̕.” Anti bared his teeth in what would’ve been a smile on anyone else, but on him it could only be seen as a threat. He did indeed look a lot like Jack, but his form was spazzing out and glitching at every moment, coming apart in pixels. The upper half of his face was hidden in shadows that twisted and writhed, strands of green light trying to form a symbol on the center of his forehead. The wound on his neck wasn’t just a cut, but a wide gash weeping blood. Green stitches were trying to keep it closed.

“What do you want?” Jack whispered.

“What do I w̶̡a͡n̵̴t̸̸?” Anti repeated the question, tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey. “First, I want to see if y͡ou̴r f̢r҉ieńd he͠r̶e̡ b̵̶lè̷e̢d̴̡s͟͠ like you, if your faces are t͢hè ͝s̶a̡m̡e. Then...well, you͠'̀l̷l ͡soon fin͢d̀ ͢o̧u̢t̵. I wouldn’t want to s̴po͠į͟l e̦̼v̖̫̱̰͇e͏̰r̤̜͝y̪̼͖̙̙̕t̥h̪͎̙̱i̖n̦̻̭̹͈̼̮͝g͢ for you.”

Chase’s eyes were wide, and he held perfectly still. The knife was glitching ever so slightly. As Jack watched, it nicked Chase’s neck and a single drop of blood trickled down his throat. Jack sucked in an panicked breath. What could he do? Was there anything he could do?

Suddenly, Anti’s smile dropped. His head snapped—quite literally, the sound accompanied by a shattering of pixels—toward Jameson. Jack realized that he’d been awfully quiet during the whole confrontation. And it was because he was preparing. Several drawers were hanging open. There was a tall blue candle burning on the table, surrounded by strange symbols written in red chalk. Jameson held a golden amulet out in front of him, a golden square with a purple gem in the center. It was emitting a faint white light. He grinned triumphantly. “What were you saying about magic?”

Anti growled. “ F̵̮͎̠̭̮̯͇̀͟i̛͓̦̠͖͈̥̹̞̕n͎̰̠̙̻͟e͖̱̼̬. I’ll l̶͟e͠t ̛͝yǫ͝u win t͞͠͡hiş ̀t̀i̷͞m̶̧̢e. But this i̛sn'͏̶t ̧̕o̢v̵̡e͞r̛.” Reality flickered, and shattered. When everything was set back to normal, the room was light again, Chase was gasping for air, and Anti and the amulets were gone. “S͏҉e̵̡e̶ ̸́ýo̸͡u͟ ̧̀s͏o̶̡o̸͢n͢͞.” One last whisper around their minds, and they felt his presence disappear.

Silence.

After a long while, Jack turned to JJ and said, “You have to teach us how to do that.”

JJ smiled shakily. “A strong and more specific variant of the banishing. I wasn’t sure it would work. But it was better than the alternative.”

“You can say that again.” Chase almost reached up to prod the small cut on his neck, but stopped himself. “We need to tell Schneep about this. Let’s see him deny it in the face of three eyewitnesses.”

“He’ll find a way to.” Jack sighed. “But we gotta convince him. He could be in trouble too.”

And still, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew who Anti was, and not just because he shared his face. There was something eerily familiar...like a favorite song that had been twisted and distorted into a different tune entirely.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #dr schneeplestein #chase brody #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #septic egos #septic egos au #brigid writes fanfiction #stitched anti #writing anti was so fun how come ive never done it before #stitchedstories

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gotatext · 6 years

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hullo everyone, i’m nora, i’m 22, from the gmt timezone, and i love gillian flynn w all my withered heart. below the cut is info on my latest baby frida parrish. LIKE THIS and i’ll hit u up for plots xo

( kristine froseth, cis-female ) did you hear how FRIDA PARRISH is applying to columbia university as a CLASSICAL CIVILISATION major ?! the 20 year old is living in the WALLACH HALL. i heard that they got in because they are + MAGNETIC and + TENACIOUS, but honestly i think SHE can be -DOUBLE-CROSSING and -FANCIFUL. they’re a real SYRABITE. oh well, only time will tell if the SOPHOMORE will make it til the end. + a bubble of pink gum on chapped lips, pouring over leather-bound volumes in a library, bloodstains on the insoles of pointe shoes.

BACKGROUND.

— born in vermont and lived there til she was about eleven, but then her family moved to new york for her dad’s job. her dad is kind of famous. a big shot art dealer. he actually got so well connected in the art world by creating forgeries of famous works when frida was still really young, but once he had enough money and contacts, he decided to follow a more legal and reputable path and now he just deals legit art rather than fakes. — her parents, mara dagney and richard parrish met doing a fine art cause at nyu. richard was raised in the uk, one of three cambridge-born brothers. mara grew up on a ranch in new mexico. they met in freshers week and were basically inseparable after that. — pretty soon after graduating, her parents realised there was very little money to be made taking art commissions in a little new england town, and plenty of competition, so they began forging famous works and selling them to collectors for thousands. — when frida was a born (her brother two years her senior, a nuclear family), her parents were still involved in forgery. the parrish kids were taught that people and places were temporary with suitcases permanently packed for the move. they were raised on the fluidity of identity and taught to be resourceful and wise rather than school-smart. phillip was never as resourceful as frida, but he was incredibly learned when it came to literacy and numeracy, and a bit of an art prodigy. — when frida (affectionately referred to as ‘fox’ by her family because of her auburn hair – it stuck) was nine and phillip (’pippin’, after the broadway musical lmao her mum is lame) was twelve, the family ran into some trouble, managed to bribe an officer to stay quiet, but had to move from burlingdon to new york, to start a new, legal life. — mara retrained as a grade school teacher. richard opened up his own arts collective space and coffee shop. within a few years, her father had a really large collection of rothko’s, pollock’s and johns’, and began to appear on a tv show where he would value and auction paintings. frida and phillip attended a public new york day school, where frida took up flute, lacrosse and ballet.

PERSONALITY.

— both her parents had Large Personalities, so frida’s never really been shy around adults, even as a kid she’d speak to them in a forthright, confident manner, and because she was always surrounded by adults, she’s always seemed a bit Wise Beyond Her Years. — very much a consolidation of every character in the secret history. has a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. obsessed with w.h. auden and the beat poets. — ”aestheticism is the only thing worth pursuing and even that is pointless” — is majoring in classical civilisation. can read ancient greek and latin. also speaks french. — studies hard and plays hard. she gets top marks but it’s because academia is literally her life, she loves the smell of libraries, the ancient smoke of learning, of feeling like old wine in a new bottle reincarnated from the bones of some old, dead witchy woman who invented a cure for cowpox or somethin. — isn’t a foward-planner, however. frida prefers to leave her options open, play the field, live in a spontaneous manner so her study style is mostly cramming a few days before a test, or staying up all night writing an essay on a massive adrenaline boost powered by red bull or probably adderall, scribbling (or typing) furiously into the night. — pretentious motherfucker. LOVES poetry, especially the romantics, loves morbid ones too, edgar allen poe, sylvia plath, allen ginsberg, she just loves them all. can’t get enough. her favourite films are like…. wanky artfilm independent european cinema. especially french new wave. “what do you think of goddard’s work??” while snorting a line off someone’s sink at 5am on a school night, but you can bet she’ll make it to that 9am class. — very Intelligent and Beautiful and knows both of those facts. vocal feminist. soapbox sadie. Very Passionate about Issues. plays devil’s advocate. humanitarian, vegan. — judgemental but takes great care not to appear so. — just wants to be Loved By All. a party girl ; doesn’t rlly enjoy it, jst feels she Should enjoy it. — tries to be an Enigma. wants to be mysterious and unreadable because that’s what books have taught her makes women Desirable and Interesting and Cool. — obsessively devours mystery and thriller novels. she herself is a gillian flynn book waiting to happen. — act like the flower but be the serpent under it. is a user. manipulative. leads people on. will throw another student under the bus to demonstrate her own intelligence and integrity — heavily involved in the theatre society. loves attention. — has an addictive personality. seems unable to do anything in a small dose, she has to let it utterly consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive, runs track, played lacrosse at school, now is a cheerleader probably. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning. — her clothing style is like…. vintage thrift store but make it preppy. berets and cute hats, neck scarves, large fluffy cardigans or like those leathery jackets with big suede fringes on them, mini skirts (very 70s), and knee high socks or boots. quite often she’ll be in sports kit, maybe a cute tennis skirt, n when she’s feeling casual she’ll wear like, a talking heads tshirt with a pair of mom jeans and converse, but otherwise, the library is her catwalk. — relates to ophelia from hamlet and sibyl vane in dorian gray. weirdly obsessed with women who commit suicide. loves jackson pollock paintings and abstract art. – likes old things. old books, old music, old houses, it reminds her of happier times like when she wasn’t alive. buys all her music on vinyl and has a gramphone because “The Sound quality is Better” kfdsjj.

anyway, here you will find a pinterest board, and here u will find a stats page.

PLOTS.

here are some generic wanted plots but by all means message me so we can flesh them out more if any strike ur interest:

study buddies !! someone who is equally unprepared and so spends all night in the library with frida before a big deadline, maybe they even met in the library

if they’re from new england or vermont, then cousins . second cousins / extended family / family friends – probably spat volavons on your character once as children, omg childhood friends !

people who live on the same floor and only know each other from brief interactions in the lift or the canteen

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! former best friends separated by sporting or academic rivalries !

hockey / cheer friends who are on other teams but who she absolutely loves playin against!!!

fellow academics who like meeting up to discuss latin and greek ! gimme a secret society bonding by their love of ancient learning

i reckon she’s in a lot of societies, definitely the film club, maybe works as a projectionist at the uni cinema if they have one so give me ppl affiliated with that, give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties

people who think she is throwing her academic potential away by caving to hedonistic impulse

people she has drunkenly made out with, hooked up with, or regularly sleeps with casually, maybe even a friend w benefits she is repressing feelings for, i love angst,

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life, she is a roman catholic after all

thats all for now folks jeez louise thanks for stickin with me

#columbiaintro #here we go Bois

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lucascsinclairs · 6 years

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Tagged by: @strange-thangs and @paladin-wheeler Thanks you guys!

Rules: Choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better

I choose:

Stranger Things

Doctor Who

The Percy Jackson series

The first character you loved:

Dustin. With that adorable smile he gives to Nancy when offering to give her the pizza, how could I not

The 11th Doctor

Percy of course

The character you never expected to love so much:

Mike, I liked him alright since the beginning but kinda saw him as the stereotypical bland main character/audience surrogate. But by the end of s1 and especially reading all the fics between the seasons made me really love his character

The 12th Doctor, with 11 being my first Doctor and all, I was devastated when he regenerated and then of course I wasn’t the biggest fan of 12 as a result. But in time I really started to like him a lot!

Rachel, at first I thought she would just be a pointless character to cause drama between Percy and Annabeth, but I ended up really liking her as the story went on

The character you relate to the most:

Lucas, I’m also very logical and no-nonsense and that has led to some disagreements with me and my friends before

Bill or Donna, I don’t have time for love drama. I just want to go on space adventures ok

Annabeth, she’s probably the fictional character I’ve ever related to the most. She had blonde hair and grey eyes just like me and she was super smart and committed and witty and everything I ever aspired to be

The character you’d slap:

Brenner. Easy.

Hmm I don’t really know, the John Simm Master?

All the gods tbh; be there for your kids damn it!

Three favorite characters (in order of preference):

Eleven, Mike, Lucas

The 11th Doctor, Amy and Rory (can you guess what series I started watching on lol)

Annabeth, Percy, Thalia

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

Hmm I don’t think there’s one. I mean Jonathan would be the closest, I just don’t have an opinion on him

Ok controversial opinion time; I really liked Clara and thought she was great but by the time of series 9 it kinda felt like they kept dragging her story out unnecessarily and that made me like her less (she’s still great though!)

Really liked Luke in the beginning (cause Annabeth trusted him so why would I not) so him switching sides totally blindsided and traumatized me (reminder that I was like 10) and obviously don’t like him anymore

A character you did not like at first but now do:

Hopper, I really didn’t like him the first few episodes, I thought he would be just the stereotypical cop character, but his character development has been so good

Nardole, I found him so annoying at first but by the end of the series I really liked him

Clarisse, really hated her in the first few books but her character development later on really made me understand her and like her better

Three OTPS:

Mileven, Lumax, Stancy

I’ve never been huge into ships in Doctor Who so I’d just say Amy and Rory

Percabeth, Nico and Will and Silena and Charles (the faith of those two had the 13-year-old kaisa in legit tears)

I’m not tagging anyone in particular, just anyone who would like to do this!

#thanks again for tagging me you guys!#sorry it took a while #it was fun diving back into the PJO universe #haven't thought about it so long #but i loved those books so much when i was younger!#and i think percy and annabeth were my first ever proper OTP #many others did harry potter so i wanted to do something different #tagged in #about me

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leightaylorwrites · 7 years

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Leigh Dissects YA Fiction: They All Fall Down (Chapters 9 - 12)

Chapter Nine

Levi certainly wasn’t grieving Olivia’s death…

Of course not. Why would he be grieving his ex-girlfriend? That would imply that he cares about anyone other than you and with this being a YA book, it’s unlikely that a romantic lead would be so complex.

[...] his open varsity jacket making his shoulders look even broader.

A specific sport isn’t named. Does the author think all varsity athletes get the same jacket? There are emblems, symbols, and other things that are specific to certain sports. This is what happens when you base your YA book on your own nerdy high school experiences and don’t do basic research: you get things wrong.

“Why is everyone so certain Levi Sterling is going to jail?” I demand.

You can’t demand a question that has to be answered by multiple people when you’re only with one person. Also, didn’t you, like recently, say he might’ve been a murderer or rapist?

I nod sympathetically, supposing that’s a legit enough connection for a guy like Josh to shed a few tears.

Because for a masculine boy to cry, it has to be legitimized.

Was he kidding? Girls like Olivia and the rest of them on that list didn’t hang out with nerds like me. But guys don’t always know that.

Okay, even if we’re going with the ridiculous idea that people don’t have friends in different circles, the same would be true for boys. Geeky boys and jocks wouldn’t hang out. Why wouldn’t he know this?

“I missed you last night,” he says right into my ear, with a secret, sexy voice that should have every cell in my body jumping up and down.

You’ve spoken for a total of three minutes.

“I had…” Movie night with mom. “Something else to do.”

Why can’t she just tell him the truth? I get it’s geeky but it’s not like you were committing a crime.

A flicker of distaste crosses his expression as he conciders what could possibly have been more important than his game, and his gaze shifts in the direction where Levi had been. “Out with your parolee?”

Dora doesn’t tell him the truth about her whereabouts as a way for the author to throw in cheap tension. If she had a legit reason or given an explanation (like how I said spending time with her mom is ~geeky~), then it would’ve worked. Without that, this is just lazy writing.

“Good thing, ‘cause they're saying he was there and was having a deep and heated conversation with Olivia before she died.”

Did this book have an editor?

“Good thing you weren’t with him.”

He’s said good thing twice in the past quarter page. Either the author discovered a new phrase while writing this chapter, or someone stans NCT.

“Listen, I know it’s not going to be really fun under the circumstances and all, but a bunch of kids are getting together at my house tonight. Will you come?”

Y’all really about to have a party when someone just died. I get the popular kids are supposed to somewhat suck but there’s sucking then there’s being horrible people.

“We’re changing clothes, you freakazoid!”

Outdated reference is outdated. Most of this author’s demographic does not know that song. Has she ever spoken with an actual teenager? In this century?

“His parents passed away many years ago.”

Please be related to the cult I’m probably totally wrong about.

“I never got into the house but I’ve heard it’s amazing, with an indoor swimming pool and a ten-car garage adjacent to some of the prettiest parts of Nacht Woods.”

Good Lord. First, it annoys me when characters who are loaded go to public school with a bunch of people who are nowhere near as rich. School zoning doesn’t work like that, with only one megarich kid and everyone else being middle class. Second, why are we getting this awkward splooge from Generic BFF’s mom instead of having this description when Dora gets to the party later????? Why is this writing so bad? Where is the editor?

“The grandfather, who’s retired, of course, made a killing on Wall Street, as I understand it.”

What is this SENTENCE?! I suck at grammar and sentence structure and all those technical things but damn, I know I could do a better job at this editor who works for an actual publishing house.

“Really hit it huge in the go-go eighties.”

“Where’d they go-go?” Kayla asks, making everyone laugh.

Not me.

“It’s the idiots who can’t handle the peer pressure. But, okay, you girls use common sense.”

Fucking hell. If they’re pressured into drinking then they’re not idiots. That’s why it’s called PRESSURE. And why are we acting like people with common sense don’t drink? They’re not mutually exclusive.

“(...) I’d love to just sit around that table for house with a family that is so whole and happy. But I only have myself to blame for that.”

Shut your melodramatic ass up.

Chapter Ten

God save me.

(..) what feels like a half-mile-long driveway (...) At least fifty cars are in the drive and along the street.

Driveway. It’s called a driveway. You just used it in the last sentence.

She’s cute - and has to be freezing - but, really, nothing extraordinary to look at.

What a fucking bitch. Honestly, Dora, please die.

“We’re going into the woods.”

Yes, now it’s the point in the book where a Native American burial ground is invaded by drunk suburban white teens who literally have no respect for the land. This includes our protagonist. And if you’re thinking she’s going to mention how wrong and disrespectful this is, bring your expectations of this author down. No, further. FURTHER. Yes, that low.

“We’re at Meesha mound.” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Indian burial ground, you know. Cool, huh?”

“Very.”

To be fair, Dora says her “very” is sarcasm but like?? Nothing is done or said about how horrible it is that they’re doing this. Or even the improper and offensive usage of “Indian.”

She misses my sarcasm and takes me down a dark path.

Obviously bad metaphor is obviously bad.

“I like Sisters of the List,” Kylie Leff says, leaning into Amanda. “We’ve been blood sisters since kindergarten.”

Can I return this book and get cult lesbians instead? Side note, if you want to watch something about a cult lesbian, AHS: Cult was AMAZING and its best season since Coven.

She holds up a single knuckle and Amanda meets it with one of her own in the most feminine and lackluster knuckle tap in history.

We get it. Fem = bad, hot fem = bad, weak fem = bad.

Why was Dora expecting some epic knuckle punch when Kylie only used one knuckle? Does she think she has super-strength?

It’s Candace Yardley, number ten, who up to this point has been virtually silent. Once again, I take a second to admire her dark good looks; she is runway perfect.

Why is this book so racist?!! Having the Asian character be silent until Dora is ready to comment on her ~dark good looks~?? And she has to be at the bottom of the list? What IS THIS?!

She smiles at her best friend.

How many times must we be reminded that Kylie and Amanda are gal pals, heteros, and that this book has no room for lesbians? Petition to save Kylie and Amanda from this hetero dumpster fire.

I take the vodka bottle and let a few drops touch my lips, the flavor like bitter grape cough medicine.

One, you can’t taste much with your lips. Two, that’s not what vodka tastes like.

“You bitches cray.” She sings the last word on a laugh. “But I need to get fried.”

Let’s play “spot the Token black character.” I think the usage of the word cray is a testament to how old this book is. Back when white authors thought it was fun to use cringe aave. You gon finna catch me is SHAKING.

“Thank god that chapter is over” - me after every chapter.

Chapter Eleven

“YOLO, baby girl. Which translates into ‘have some fun.’

Petition to have white authors never write black characters again.

I can smell beer, and the sound of rap is barely drowned out by loud boys and girls laughing. Really? On the night after the girl they all planned to vote for class president next year has died? They either don’t care or… they don’t understand death.

You fucking asshole, Dora. Some people have different coping methods. And, how would you know they don’t care or understand death? Do you think you’re the only person in your whole school who has lost someone?

They don’t know how permanent death is. But I do.

Earlier, we learned that Generic Good Boy is a fucking orphan. He lost BOTH parents. You lost ONE brother. Shut up.

“Like I said… YOLO.”

Stop. I’m begging.

“You know what I remember about you in middle school?” (...) “You were hydrogen in our Dress Like an Element Day in science.”

Listen, I like the fact that Dora and GGB have natural chemistry as characters whereas Dora and GBB are forced like hell. But could the author not think of a more interesting element? Why would GGB remember this in particular? Even if he thought Dora was cute, it would make sense for the element to be something less common and therefore more easy for the reader to see why it was so memorable.

“You’re the Latin expert.”

She’s a junior in high school.

“(...) he lives to meet pretty girls.” The way he says it makes me feel like I really am one of those pretty girls.

Because he just told you his grandfather likes pretty girls? An old man? That makes you feel pretty? Really? That?

“Wait--I want to kill her, er, say hi.”

Ignoring this horrible attempt at humor, Dora is upset with her friend for drinking at a party. I’ll point you to Dora’s weird grape cough medicine vodka from her cult meeting in the woods.

“I play on two travel teams--hey, Ryan--and lots of these kids are from all over this side of the state.”

They came all the way out here for one party? Are there no parties in their own neighborhoods?

“Kenzie.” The older man nods in approval. “Of course.” Flashing an easy, wide smile, he looks down--way down--at me. Instantly, I can see where Josh gets his gifts--his height, the build, the sort of raw masculinity mixed with charm that rolls off him. That’s hereditary, I suppose.

I just threw up.

This man is at least sixty, given that his grandson is a high school junior. And Dora just spent a paragraph lowkey lusting after him. I haven’t witnessed something so grossly uncomfortable since Throne of Trash the series we don’t acknowledge.

“You were absolutely correct, Josh. She is a refreshing change.”

Get it? Because she’s not like those other girls.

“You’ve taught me everything, Josh says, a respectful note in his voice. “Including how to pick quality girls.”

Women aren’t avocados.

He pats my hand and shifts in his seat. “Let’s change the subject. I understand you’re on that list that does nothing but objectify lovely teenage girls.”

You can’t call out the list for objectifying them when 1) you’ve done that since you met Dora, 2) you act like a fucking pedophile while you’re touching her, and 3) you follow up the fact that the list is objectifying the girls by calling the girls “lovely.”

“But his legacy lives on, right back in Nacht Woods.” He angles his head toward the back of the house. “He’s buried there, too.”

So not only has this author disrespected Native Americans with using their burial ground for horror aesthetic reasons, but she’s also allowed a white character to be buried there.

“Not him, per se,(...) but the things that mattered to him. I made a place to honor him.”

I know we need exposition but it makes no sense here. They’ve spent half a page talking about this dead dude, rather than the scholarship Dora wants.

“How do I apply?”

“No application necessary, dear. You just have to finish the ropes course Jarvis built in Nacht Woods (...) You look fairly athletic.”

Oh my god. How many ways can this author metaphorically shit on this burial ground?

“Quit hittin’ on my chick, Rex.”

Dora’s next thought is her freaking out about Josh calling her his girl, which okay, I get. But… shouldn’t she be a tad bit concerned about this creepy pedo man who just offered her a scholarship as long as she completes The Hunger Games?

“She’s a total brainiac (...) I think that’s hot.”

“Quite,” his grandfather agrees.

I’M NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP

Chapter Twelve

I haven’t had anything to drink since my one sip of grape vodka, but Molly’s borderline tipsy(.)

We’ve got clarification that her vodka was grape flavored (ew) but what the hell is “borderline tipsy”??? Either she’s tipsy or she’s sober. Tipsy is the full in between of sober and drunk.

“But the weirdest thing of all was the texts disappeared about ten minutes after I got it. I can’t find it in my deleted texts, nothing.”

SHE TRIED TO SEARCH DELETED TEXTS AND WAS SURPRISED WHEN SHE COULDN’T FIND ANYTHING ASHJLDFASHLJL

(...) ready for dark looks from my list sisters(...)

We’re really using this name?

But I won’t tell these girls that. They’re wack.

I love 2001 slang.

Also, you guys don’t know how hard it is for me to not make a Malibu’s Most Wanted reference right now.

Having to post all my notes/opinions means I’m having to read over some of the book again and if you can believe it, these are considered the good chapters compared to what comes later.

Using my irritation as free entertainment? Enjoy my writing as free entertainment, too. I’ve got a freebie book called Epic here.

#leigh reads it #leigh dissects ya #tafd review #long post #tafd

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nehswritesstuffs · 7 years

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2017 Movies in Review

So my boyfriend and I go to the movies quite a bit. How much is that? Well, enough to remind our family and friends that we met in film school. Here is our stupidly-long list of things we’ve seen in 2017, from the local art house to blockbusters, shorts and features, and much more. Yay having a writing blog so I can actually have a goal for compiling this sort of thing~

~**~The following is simply my opinion as I stand, and will probably differ from your own. This is not a good thing or bad thing, just a thing, nothing more. Please take nothing personally~**~

Hidden Figures: We nearly saw this in 2016 instead, but didn’t because… reasons…? I dunno. We figure that it’s a pretty good addition to the math-teacher-doesn’t-want-to-teach repertoire of Stand and Deliver and October Sky, about people who math really good despite not being from what society thinks as mainstream-math-type backgrounds (black women joining Latin kids and Coal Country boys, respectively). I also am not exactly a fan of Jim Parsons, so him playing an antagonistic force was a bit cathartic when it was comeuppance time.

One Piece: Film Gold: My boyfriend is the best boyfriend and brought me to see this despite the fact he knows very little about One Piece. Actually, more like knew very little about One Piece, as I was talking about the manga the entire way back to my place. It’s very One Piece, very Eiichiro Oda, very Japan, very shonen.

Eleven P.M. and Hell-Bound Train: Not a wide release by any means, as the local art theater played these two as part of a Black History Month series involving early African-American directors. Both are black-and-white, as well as silent, and both do very different things for an audience now that they’re edging on 90 years old. Eleven P.M. is a very surreal, nearly modern—as in 2017 modern—type of story within a story that has some fucking legit special effects, whilst Hell-Bound Train was constructed as part of a sermon, leading to an… interesting view into the mindset of 1930s Bible Belt preachers (and in many places is unintentionally hilarious).

The Great Wall: While the context was not as bad as it looks (Matt Damon and Pedro Pascal playing White Savior in Fantasy Ancient China --> ACTUALLY --> Damon and Pascal being in the right place at the right time and while helping, not being the ultimate deciding factors (nor was their help only possible because of their European-ness)), it still was really weird to watch and I would have rather it been a couple of Koreans or Japanese trying to take a peek at Fantasy Ancient China’s Great Wall than a couple Europeans, because it makes a bit more sense geographically-speaking, but what are ya gonna do when companies want Western Name Recognition. Quite violent and really interesting to watch, at least from an American perspective that’s not regularly exposed to a wide variety of Chinese films.

Logan: I HOPE THIS WINS SO MANY AWARDS. EXCELLENT STRAIGHT-DRAMA, LOW-KEY SCI-FI, I CANNOT SCREAM ENOUGH. IT MIGHT HELP REDEEM MOVIE AWARDS IN MY EYES, AT LEAST A LITTLE. MAYBE. (Okay, probably not, but it still deserves a buttload of awards.)

2017 Oscar Nominated Short Films

Animated: Borrowed Time, Pearl, Piper, Blind Vaysha, Pear Cider and Cigarettes

Can Pixar steal an Oscar from itself? It pretty much did when it came to Piper (which was cute, and that’s about it) winning over Borrowed Time (which contains MURDER~ and SUICIDE~). Pearl was alright, Blind Vaysha was weird, and Pear Cider and Cigarettes was a bizarre 35-minute eulogy to this dude’s friend that the theater I went to made positive to warn us about the fact it was not kid-friendly constantly. Like, frick, no one was told to pull the little kid down the aisle out when it came to Borrowed Time, but nope don’t see Pear Cider and Cigarettes don’t do it (to be fair: there was a “holy shit was that oral?” moment in the latter, but how does one say murder/suicide is okay for kids but sex/smoking/heavy drinking is not (and the kid did not leave during either, for the record)).

Live-Action: Sing/Mendenki, Silent Nights, Timecode, Ennemis Interieurs, La Femme et le TGV

While I 100% agree with Sing (original title: Mendenki) getting the win, I’m also fond of Timecode and Ennemis Interieurs. Sing reaches to my inner by cataloguing a couple students running into a complete bitch of a teacher, Timecode is simply endearing (two security guards and dance antics), and Ennemis Interieurs (a French Algerian being grilled over patriotism when he always considered himself French) is so fucking real I had to refrain from making any noise in the theater lest I shout “you French bastard” over and over. Silent Nights and La Femme et le TGV weren’t all that stellar to me, since both involved flirting/falling in love with men who surprisingly had families and Silent Nights was pretty much “white girl has compulsion to provide for brown boys” with little else to it and I was pretty disgusted by how it played out overall.

Kong: Skull Island: There are finally multiple movies where I don’t mind John C. Reilly being in it (Wreck-It Ralph was the first)! Now I studied how the Vietnam War has been portrayed on film in varying angles (it was a theme concentration), and this is actually a really interesting look at how American involvement in Vietnam messed up a bunch of people in varying ways without going to Vietnam itself or focusing on a soldier’s inability to reintegrate into the homefront. Packard was very much someone for whom the war was not over despite the official pull-out that the movie is set during, Weaver clearly saw some shit and was not there to stand idle (despite that’s what a war photographer technically does when out in the field), and Conrad was there to let Hiddleston be British. Okay, that wasn’t a very good explanation, but just trust me: it’s a really good Vietnam movie with character subtleties… plus all the awesome stuff that would have been great in Peter Jackson’s 2005 King Kong remake but we weren’t allowed to explore Skull Island for that long.

Power Rangers: A generally-fun movie, being as I grew up with the TV show (I was four when it premiered in the US) and did a whole heck of a lot with the ‘verse while incorporating the capabilities of modern graphics and special effects. My only points of contention are these: A) the original theme seems very shoehorned and “aw crap we forgot the original theme GET THE SOUND MIXER BACK HERE IDC IF IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING”, and B) I want to know who to flipping ship after I get out of the theater, so either make Trini gay/bi, or don’t, because I don’t need an open-ended speech about coming together despite differences when THE QUESTION AT-HAND WAS NOT ANSWERED IN THE TEXT. I WAS EVEN LOOKING FOR SUBTLE THINGS, BUT NOPE. I don’t even care if that was resolved in extra features somewhere, because if it didn’t make the cut, it clearly wasn’t that important, and ffs Power Rangers you can do better than that.

Ghost in the Shell: Okay, this has some major problems, I get that. Hollywood doing anime doesn’t end up being the best of anything, but this one worked for me. Scarlett Johansson as the Major instead of an East Asian actress? I totally buy it because it actually fits with the thematic loss of identity in the original series, also opening the door for there to be a multitude of different actresses (and even actors) playing the Major as she struggles to regain her old self. The setting and other characters, both rather diversified compared to the originals, make the movie feel like a reinterpretation rather than a straight-up adaptation (there is a difference!), and I generally liked it. So a decent reinterpretation, but shitty adaptation…? Yeah, that’s how I’m categorizing it.

Going in Style: Old people, far as the eye can see. Old people on the screen. Old people in the seats. Few are actually as cool as the ones on-screen are, and none of them sat around us. Ann-Margaret essentially reprised her role from Grumpy Old Men.

Colossal: A really quirky sci-fi movie that does an interesting take on the kaiju genre, as well as allowing Jason Sudeikis to really flex his acting chops. I honestly don’t remember seeing him in anything before this and holy cow he creeped me the fuck out (which was the point). I also got to snicker every time Dan Stevens came on the screen, because that’s what I do thanks to Downton Abbey ruining my life forever and for me he shall never shake that.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2: Basically everything I wanted in a Vol. 2 and more. Unfortunately, that’s all I can really say about it though. I do agree with Drax though: Mantis is pretty hideous, despite the fact they really tried to go as cute as possible with her design. It failed.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales: I squeed, not gonna lie. I’m in that increasingly-ageing demographic of people who was on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride both before and after the film franchise started, and from the moment I saw the first movie, I was in love. I mean, it doesn’t matter that I actually acknowledge the fourth PotC movie, and I was excited despite what some critics were saying, as with GitS. Dead Men Tell No Tales is definitely a worthy installment in my eyes, which could end up spinning the franchise into a direction not so bogged down by Jack Sparrow (I honestly think that Sparrow’s unexpected popularity forced the writers to have more focus on him, which worked in some cases, but that’s not always a good thing since it ends up so limiting).

Wonder Woman: When paired with PotC5, it means that day my inner 13yo was very, very happy, indeed. Freaking World War I and let’s beat bad guys up and mythology and oh yeah did I mention we were beating up bad guys during WWI? Fuck. Yeah. I mean, we should have had three movies of Gal Gadot kicking ass through the ages already, but oops can’t go cootie overload gotta make sure the quota stays alright for Justice League later in the year. It’s probably a good thing that Diana was only in Belgium though—can you imagine her losing her shit in the middle of the Armenian Genocide? MAYBE SHE DID LOSE HER SHIT IN THE ARMENIAN GENOCIDE AND THAT’S ANOTHER IN MEDIAS RES MOVIE?! (One loss isn’t more important than the other, duh, but they were contemporary tragedies and Diana needs to flip all her shit.)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword: Why did no one like this movie? It was super-fun and didn’t pretend it was something it wasn’t, as it was balls-to-the-walls action/fantasy/dude movie. Uh, as much as I loved watching Wonder Woman, I also love the sort of movie King Arthur: Legend of the Sword tends to be, and to see that it was a flop makes me put it with the rest of my beloved box office flops that needed to get sequels but never got them because they weren’t appreciated as they should have been (can you sense a theme here?**).

Spider-Man: Homecoming: The cutest superhero movie I have seen to-date, because it is an A+ teen movie. It also holds the distinction of being the first Spider-Man movie I wanted to see since 2002. One thing that I am hoping for the franchise is that MJ kind of, well, grows the fuck up, as the more I heard her be needlessly snarky and “I’m a way better person than you because I know/acknowledge these things”, the more I want some serious character development to take place. I don’t have time for sassy teens who think they know more than I do; I got one living across the hall from me and let me tell you: that isn’t very funny most of the time when they’re like that, and when it is funny, it’s because of how little they genuinely know. Please Zendaya, I don’t know who the frick you are or why you’re popular other than The Mouse, but can you make sure MJ doesn’t stay a bitch? Please?

Valerian and the City of A Thousand Planets: It was kinda meh. Stunning visuals, lovely secondary characters, but a plot that needed enigmatic leads to hold it together. Hint: the leads were less than stellar and really unconvincing. As a sci-fi movie, it has a really nice background and world-building for it (thanks to the French comic series it’s based off of), though I can really see its downfall as being a rather adult movie compared to what we’re used to for colorfully-animated science fiction. I mean, come on, there’s a gratuitous “WE COULD CAST RHIANNA” striptease sequence. Naw, son, I ain’t about that, and chances are that people who equate colorful sci-fi with children and the childish REALLY aren’t about it and that’s why it kinda flopped about and died.

Cars 3: Otherwise known as: the Cars 2 that should have happened. I find it funny that it basically did not reference the previous movie in the slightest, making Super Agent 00-Mater null and void. God fucking bless.

Dunkirk: So. Freaking. Intense. As a history person, I do adore the care and precision that was taken when it came to the shooting and production (despite the focus on the White British and limited attention given to the bulk of the French and African troops as well as oops I can’t remember any Indian troops being there, though it is justifiable in-universe since the mains are from different regiments than ones you could get visual/linguistic diversity from). It’s been months and I still cry when I think about this movie—it’s that good. Even if you can’t stand monochrome/monogender casting, I would still recommend at least a peek, as everything fits together gorgeously. Acting, cinematography, writing, editing, music, settings… basically, it’s as close to a perfect WWII movie as we’re going to ever get. If I had to compile a list of movies to show an intro film class to exemplify How to Do the Thing Right, Dunkirk is definitely on it.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 40th Anniversary: I first watched this in a pre-boyfriend film class and seeing it with him was a very interesting treat. The effects hold up, the story holds up—it’s still a solid movie for being forty years old, despite some things that make me facepalm writing-wise.

Victoria & Abdul: “Inspired by true events… mostly” is basically every historically-set film ever and at least this had the balls to admit it. Since I’m down for watching anything about Vicky and Her Boytoys, I sat through a crowd similar to that of Going in Style to view it. It treats historical accuracy when it comes to Anglo-Indian relations a lot like Downton Abbey treats certain social issues, both addressing them directly while simultaneously glossing them over. While there is plenty of truth to the story, a lot of the devotion between the titular characters is both probably and definitely ramped up for story purposes. One bonus, however, is I got to see Paul Higgins play another character who could be “the Crossest Man in Scotland”, while actually being in Scotland, with much better outward grooming.

Blade Runner 2049: My mind is still a bit blown after seeing this, which is great considering the original was just as interesting. It is a worthy continuation of the original and I was pleasantly surprised at how much of it carried over. I hadn’t seen the first Blade Runner in years and wow so much of it stuck and shone through and was easy to recall thanks to the continuity.

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women: Pretty sure this didn’t get a lot of promotion because DC and their fanboys tend to take the “la-la-la-I’m-not-listening” approach whenever anyone reminds them about Wonder Woman’s saucy origins (I had very little idea what sort of movie I was walking into when I entered the theater, and considering I go to the movies fairly frequently, that’s saying something). Best utilized as a trap to make obnoxious bros as uncomfortable as possible and possibly question some things about themselves due to gratuitous threesome/bondage prawns. Yup. It’s just a biopic with a gratuitous threesome center, the consummation scene of which could have been, like, five minutes shorter and still gotten the point across.

The Princess Bride, 30th Anniversary: Such a cute and lovely movie, though it had some problems, mainly that I was sitting right in front of a Quoter. Sorry, ma’am, I know the movie is highly quotable, but this was neither the time nor place, as we were in a packed theatre with a feature that’s not known for audience participation elements. Otherwise we were all good.

The Foreigner: I had way too much fun with this movie attempting to figure out what the frick was going on amongst all the Paddy MacIrishson accents and Jackie Chan being Chinese-British Liam Neeson in order to kick arse and take names, literally. One of my favorite little touches was that Chan’s Quan was the title character because he was a naturalized British citizen in Belfast amongst former IRAs. Snap…?

Thor Ragnarok: This was definitely a ton of fun and a decent installment to the MCU. New headcanons include that the Grand Master is an Earthling who loves the idea of having his own personality cult, Loki was Frigga’s replacement daughter, and that Asgardians and alcohol are almost like Tolkien elves and alcohol. Key word is almost. Also is weak in the same way as Power Rangers, either due to time constraints or something else entirely (the internet told me Valkyrie is bi, but the movie told me flirty-asexual who is mourning a biological sister? Because familial racial characteristics in this franchise (when it comes to non-royals) are about as idgaf as the Brandi-led Cinderella made-for-TV-movie? Does anyone else fucking remember that? Did I imagine that Lady Sif and Heimdall are siblings? I’m sitting here rather confused, okay).

Justice League: Definitely did its job correctly, as I am pumped for more. Aquaman and Cyborg cannot have their solo movies quick enough, while I needed another Wonder Woman movie last year, as that entry can attest. I was a bit disappointed though in the fact they brought back Superman so that he’s now a founding member of the League, because I thought it would be interesting to have him come back at the end and pull a true Sixth Ranger instead of the partial one he did. It would echo the Justice League cartoon I grew up watching where Diana was the newbie, as that was super-interesting in retrospect, and kept my attention during the initial run. Plus, while I did not hate the Flash as much as I thought I would, he definitely does not sit well with me (just trust me on this one; I’d rather have the Justice League cartoon’s Flash).

Coco: I CRIED LIKE A LITTLE BABY IN THE MOVIE THEATER. IT MIGHT’VE BEEN PRINCESS AND THE FROG SINCE I CRIED LIKE THAT. This movie should, 100%, win the Academy Award for Best Animated Feature. I was also completely done with the short before it even began, as it was garbage. My boyfriend tried to placate me by saying it was completely made for kids, but to be honest? Kids deserve better. Like Coco. It is an extremely multi-tiered message of a story, gorgeous artwork, and even involves generations-crossing relationships that are truly caring… that the younger party understands, despite frustration. Also the Frieda Kahlo jokes are on-freaking-point. FROZEN CANNOT GIVE KIDS ON-POINT FRIEDA KAHLO JOKES, ONLY VAGUE ICE-THEMED POWERS. COCO WINS.

Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi: Extra special to me because the first date-date my boyfriend and I went on was to see Episode VII. Otherwise? I adored it. It was a ton of fun and had badass shit going down (Rey vs Kylo smackdown! Leia FINALLY getting to use the Force! Finn kicking some serious fucking shit! Getting a reason to care about Poe Dameron for once other than being told to trust us we’re not prequels-era George Lucas!). I mean, there are still issues overall, but we’re only 2/3s of the way through the trilogy and there are things that we are not allowed to do as Star Wars fans before the trilogy is over and they are 1) ship before we know all the stuff, 2) assume that we have been given all the facts about anything else, and 3) totally pan everything unless it is universally egregious. (Lucas’s ability to turn A-list actors into shit during the prequels? Please bitch all day long. Oh something doesn’t entirely mesh well with your personal bearings? I respect you and all but please give us a sec before we start saying that “Star Wars is dead” because you might be surprised in a movie or two to know there’s more to the situation and actually does mesh with you (a thing I heard someone say before I saw the movie and when I was watching I was really disappointed in that person bc really now).) I’m not actually convinced on a lot of things, such as Rey’s heritage, this being the last of Luke, that we will never see Phasma again, that Finn/Rose is a for certain thing that will last, etc.

Doctor Who: Twice Upon a Time: I had a feeling that I was going to be disappointed and in the end I sorta was. You see, I waited to watch this until it came to the theater in one of those special event things, so I was all sorts of fretting from Christmas when I stopped looking at the internet, to two days later when I did finally get to see this. During one of the extra interviews, Moffat said that he didn’t expect Bill to be in TUaT until he was about a third of the way done, and I honestly believe that… because it felt much more like Bill’s role was written for Clara. It would have been SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING if it was Clara, and Twelve didn’t realize it was her until the end because reasons, but no, we needed to have Bill comment on One’s 1963 values and drop an I’m Gay Bomb, because that was what we really needed, apparently. No, that was not what we needed. We just had a whole season of Bill comment on squicky values and be a lesbian across time and space and it wasn’t that good or compelling, but felt massively hefted upon Moffat and the writers with not much wiggle room to actually explore her character properly despite the fact we got that out of Clara and… *groaning exhale* My boyfriend said he was going for two old men sniping and bickering and it delivered, and I can’t disagree with that in the slightest. Loved One, adored Twelve, glad they were at least able to get Clara framed in full Jesus Metaphor, because if I’ve seen the Jesus Metaphor done right in this show, it’s Clara being Twelve’s savior; was meh on Bill and was rather upset that of all the times they could have let me forget about Nardole, we bring him back for two seconds as if it was really necessary.

Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle: Just like with John C. Rielly in Skull Island, I’m not exactly a big fan of Jack Black, yet I was still able to enjoy myself. The adult leads did a great job of acting like they were teens stuck in these adult bodies, while the teen leads did a great job setting up the characterization, as well as following through once the resolution came about. It was much better than the previews made it out to be, as I had been getting a “lighter and softer, FOR KIDS” vibe, which wasn’t that at all. Well, it was still lighter and softer, but it wasn’t to hit any single-digit-age demographic. Probably the youngest I’d go would be 10 to 12, and that’s depending on the kid themselves. Oh well.

…aaaand, on the VERY LAST DAY OF 2017:

The Shape of Water: Guillermo, “Totoro-san” del Toro has done it again. If the Universal Monsterverse dies in a fire, then this is what Creature from the Black Lagoon will end up being. If not, then the Creature is going to be constantly compared to this one. Great creature effects and acting and a portrayal of 1961. Includes nudity, not-really-sexy-times, solo-times, and plenty of blood and violence despite it not being a “violent movie”. Similar audience to Going in Style and Victoria & Abdul, which was odd, but whatever. A very, erm, quirky movie, so be careful with whom you see it with. Possibly with Dunkirk as far as “movies that show you How to Do the Thing”, though with the extra warnings.

A very full, interesting 2017 film-wise! Hopefully 2018 is just as packed full of interesting and neat things! Happy New Year, everyone!

#Nehs writes #idk how to tag this

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rhettsooo · 8 years

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Friday, January 13th to Saturday January 14th, 2017- Gili Air, Mt. Bromo, Yogyakarta

It's on this day I say good bye to the enchanting Gili Air and begin to squeeze in more of Indonesia - or at least as much as possible in my remaining 6 days of travel. Next stop is East Java where Mt Bromo is, the next mountain I want to conquer... but first I have to figure out how I'm doing that... with a twist: while I'm literally traveling there. What I mean by this is; I have no concrete plans on how I'm going to get to Bromo, but the goal is to do it on this night, to technically see sunrise. All I have sorted so far is the ferry off Gili Air and a bus on the other side to take me to Lombok International Airport, where I've seen online many flights departing that work in my favour, so I'm taking my odds and going in just a little blind. The ferry was the easy part: a short 20 minutes on a 20 person fishing-like boat. Nothing like the 'fast boat' we took to the island-- in fact the exact opposite. In the harbour on the other side, it was a slight panic as locals greeted the boat asking arriving passengers if they needed transport, which was me, but I had transport pre-arranged as part of shuttle bus, so I struggled for a couple minutes cutting through the noise to hear what was relevant for me and found MY guy pretty easily. An older couple, maybe 50 years old and German, were also on a similar trajectory. They ended up with MY guy too, but their struggle was laughable and entertaining to watch. He (of the couple) had a face that was permanently grumpy (imagine grumpy cat, but on a man) and the woman would always look to him for guidance or direction, but he hadn't a clue. His grumpy face would sometimes gain an injection of confusion or difficulty as he tried to manage their huge piece of luggage off this little fishing boat and on to the beach and then finding THE guy he needed. I think I got such entertainment from this couple because they seemed like the 'all-inclusive resorts' type; you know the type that wants everything done for them and wants to just relax without stress. Thus, they weren't ready for the spice to life island life brings ;) We (myself and this German? couple) wound up with the same GUY, who directed his friends(?) to grab their luggage - since they were struggling - and we all went to a horse-drawn carriage that we maxed out with us four bodies (our GUY, this couple, and myself) and our luggage. It was pretty funny. Especially when the couple didn't want to tip the dude carrying their luggage for him. Shame on him. So we're all in this carriage for about 20 minutes as we trust that this GUY is legit and actually taking us to our bus...which he did :) We waited for the bus for an hour, which was great because I could get some breaky and find some WiFi to figure out how I'm getting to Bromo. I found some tours that included airport pick up, hotel, trek up Bromo, and drop off where ever I wanted, so sent maybe 6 email inquiries hoping that one of them would reply by the next time I reach WiFi, and not to mention could pick me up in like 10 hours at this point. The bus to the airport was long. Very long. I tried to relax, but the windy roads quintupled with the crazy driving wouldn't allow. Did I mention that drivers pass other drivers at any moment. Regardless of lines, corners, oncoming traffic, etc, they'll give warming with a tap on the horn and somehow pull it off. At the airport I found the ticket office for LionAir, the cheaper of the airlines I uncovered earlier, and bought a ticket with a sigh of relief. Now to figure out what's happening on the other side of this flight. I found WiFi and welcomed two replies in my inbox, so now it was a race between them to see who I can confirm first....and with two hours to spare before my flight departed, I confirmed a driver to pick me up and the whole nine yards. WOO WOO Yes the price was a little more than what I would've liked, but I got exactly what I wanted and nothing more or less-- my itinerary was perfect. Since I had some stress free time before my flight, I started thinking about the other side of Bromo, so what the fuck I was going to do tomorrow after the sunrise trek and essentially where I was going to be dropped off. I knew I wanted to go to Yogyakarta in Central Java next, but hadn't a clue how I was going to get there, so I did some digging and found a train! At a fraction of the cost of a plane, but about 5 times as long, the train schedule lined up perfectly; I couldn't have planned it better. So in full, the day would look like this; 1) Ferry from Gili Air to Lombok 2) Shuttle bus from the harbour to the airport 3) Plane to Surabaya airport in East Java 4) Driver from Surabaya to Mt. Bromo 5) Driver from Mt. Bromo back to Surabaya 6) Train from Surabaya to Yogyakarta ^^fun note: this all happens within about 36 hours of each other. Crazy right! After the dull plane ride and the crazy drive from the airport in the rain and traffic to Bromo, I checked into my hotel at about midnight, so I'm now into the next day and have ~4 hours until we leave for sunrise over Mt Bromo. With nothing more than a nap, my driver and I left for a 20min drive to base camp for going up. It was dark. Wet. And cold. Like Canada cold, but luckily I knew what I was doing and bundled up with my touque and gloves and lots of layers. My driver dropped me at the trail and gave me some loose directions. Although it was just me - technically, there dozens of others trying to catch the sunrise from the top too, so I followed the path while keeping an awareness of what the other groups were doing to not go anywhere I wasn't suppose to. The first 30 min of walking up a gradual hill of gravel road was easy and spat out at the first of two view points. This particular one wasn't anything special - besides it being pitch black; you would just see the town below and the crater around the volcano. Oh yeah, Mt. Bromo is an active valcano. So I kept on keeping on up the next bit of the climb. It turned to steps, kind of, for another 45min or so to the top. But it wasn't really the top, it was a peak called Seruni Point. Yes, you could keep going up, but it would have been some serious bushwacking and very vertical. It was here that I chilled and watched sunrise. I found a good spot and struck conversation with this group of kids that had rode their motorbikes over night for 6 hours in the rain to catch the sunrise...crazy kids! I told them I/we are the same: going to crazy distances/lengths to catch the sunrise. The sun itself created a nice glow on the town below and the crater beside us. Although it was stuck behind the rain clouds for a bit, it showed its face and provided some good photo opps. I revealed in its glory, once again being reminded on a) how fucking fortunate I am to be enjoying this moment and b) how the fuck did I pull this off -- hahaha Now the sunrise wasn't the most exciting I had seen on the trip, it was the most illuminating, meaning now that it was light out, I truly got perspective: Although I thought I was going up Mt. Bromo, I had climbed Mount Penanjakan and gotten to Seruni Point, which is the mountain next to Bromo. The sun rose over Bromo and it's crater and the village of Cemoro Lawang below. The crater I was looking out to actually housed my hotel, among other buildings of the village. (An appreciation I didn't have until now and then to be reaffirmed by Dad via text later). If I wanted to check out Bromo, it would require a few more hours to not only descend Mt. Penanjakan and drive back to the village, but a walk across the Sea of Sand and only then be able to elevate myself on Mt. Bromo, physically. Now as much as I wanted to do all of this, it was beginning to rain like a mutha fucker (and if I've learned anything on the trip, it's that when it rains, it pours) and as ready as I was for rain - umbrella, jacket, boots, etc - I wasn't feeling it. And in actual fact, I was feeling like I had done what I came for: to see the sunrise and Mt. Bromo. *Looking back as I write this and read more about Bromo after the fact, I kinda wish I wasn't a big baby and just did it. But, now I have a reason to bring go back, but with company this time* Anywho, the sunrise ended and I have to check out of this hotel, but first it's time for breakfast and figuring out this train situation... Nowhere online would let me book a train ticket and no blog or equivalent was helpful, so I asked real people: first my driver, who had no clue, then the hotel desk, which also had no clue, but he asked his friend who said you can get them at the Indomaret (Seven Eleven of Indonesia). "OK, so the Indomaret eh, I can roll with that", I was thinking, so got my driver to make the stop en route to the train station. At the first Indomaret, there system was down, so couldn't help. The second Indomaret taught us that you can't buy train tickets on the day of departure unless you're at the station. Oooooooo kaaaaay, I guess I'm taking a leap and getting dropped off at the station hoping there's a ticket for me-- which there was! WOO WOO! Once I grabbed my ticket, I found a snack at Dunkin Donuts - which is super popular in Indonesia, alongside KFC - in case you were wondering - and hijacked their WiFi to find accomodation after this train in Yogyakarta. I found this quaint homestay 25min walk from the train station, in a relatively central neighbourhood at a great rate. Boom! I now had somewhere to sleep for the next few days, phew. The train was fun and really long. Like 7 hours long. But it was fun. There were lots of kids who took a fancy to me and I sat across from a young couple and their newborn, whom spoke English well enough for continued conversation. It gave me time to read and have a breath. Arriving in Yogyakarta at about 9pm in a slight drizzle of rain, I took to the streets on foot to get a sense of the city, the neighbourhood, and the people before calling it a night. My homestay turned out to be in an even-better-than-expected neighbourhood close to little street venders, big clothing stores, food, ATMs, etc, all the while being out of sight and very quiet. Although this place cost a few bucks more a night than a hostel, I had my own room, which was heavenly for a change. (I hadn't had my own room since Vietnam). And with that, I could sleep with ease! Especially since I'd never been more tired on this trip than now and felt like sleeping for an entire day! So I did! After leaving Gili Air 40 hours ago at this point which included 1 ferry, 1 plane, 1 train, two longs drives, a mountain, and shit ton of walking, I called it a night. BOOM! Another great series of adventure, wonder, and suspense :)

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radreviews · 7 years

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2017 SQUAD PICKS

Hello, it’s us. It’s been awhile, but we’re back with our favorite art, moments, and trends from 2017. I usually have a whole preamble to set the stage for our picks, but let’s just get into it:

RADHIKA

In-Theater Experiences Every year I have a few movies that remind me how great the movie theater experience can be. A couple of years ago it was Magic Mike XXL; this year it was Get Out and Spider-Man Homecoming. I saw both films in packed houses, with the audience reacting to every line delivery, cameo and plot twist as it happened. It was exhilarating, and I can’t imagine seeing the films any other way. It reminded me that sometimes film needs to be a collective experience—that peer reactions can be the very thing that makes a good movie great. The same thing can be said of live theater, an inherently shared experience. Humblebrag time… we finally saw Hamilton this year and it exceeded the hype and expectations. I also listened to the soundtrack a million times and memorized all of the words after seeing it so, yep, I’m one of those people now. Also! We saw Mean Girls: The Musical in its previews in DC and holy wow you’re all in for a treat. Lady Bird Forget what I said about collective experiences because I saw this incredible film by myself, crying quietly through the entire third act. There are always films whose stories don’t necessarily overlap with my experiences, but make me feel everything (last year’s was La La Land). This film has universal love from every critic with a beating heart and it’s one thousand percent deserved. Lady Bird was my favorite film of the year — a beautiful portrait of the confusion of adolescence, of familial frustration and of love. It was note-perfect. Despacito CALL ME BASIC but I love this song. I will not apologize for how happy it makes me, for how secretly sexy the lyrics are, for how directly my mood is impacted by those opening chords. Also, I prefer the Justin Bieber version don’t @ me. “Remember Me” from Coco

Let’s not talk about how much I cried during Pixar’s Coco (but if you must know, it was A LOT), let’s talk about the five different versions of its original song “Remember Me” that appear on the official soundtrack. There’s the three versions directly from the film (each BEAUTIFULLY sung by Benjamin Bratt, Gael Garcia Bernal, and Anthony Gonzalez), a Spanish version, and inexplicably a version by Miguel?!!??!? It’s a classic case of I didn’t know I needed it until now, but thank you for this gift. CTRL - SZA Everything is all caps, and wow, what a debut. “The Weekend” spoke quiet sadness about being the ‘other woman,’ “Supermodel” delved deep into being unloved and retaliating, and everything before and after touched on the intricacies of relationships and heartbreak. It was personal and it was stunning. “Lemons” - blackish Eleven days into the new year, we already had one of the best episodes of the year. In a pointed middle finger to Trump, blackish became a mouthpiece for what all of us were feeling two months after the election—anger, confusion, and helplessness—and instead of harping on the negatives, it made lemonade. Traveling I was 2 steps away from going full “wanderlust”-Instagram-caption mode this year. I’ve always wanted to travel, but 2017 was the first year where I threw caution (and money) to the wind, and just…booked stuff. I went to Cuba, Philly and Nashville for the first time, explored San Francisco and Boston again with friends, and flew back to Michigan, Chicago, and Cleveland for various engagements and weddings. If ever there was a year where a few days of distraction were not just welcomed but needed, it was 2017. There’s only more exploring to be done in 2018. Pod Save America I think it’s safe to say we all feel more politically angry and engaged in this era of backwards politics. Twice a week, I relied on the educated discussion, hilarious banter, and informed opinions of former Obama staffers Jon Lovett, Jon Favreau and Tommy Vietor to fill me in on what I should be angry about that day. It’s a podcast that just feels necessary. Also, I now own a ‘Friend of the Pod’ t-shirt and I feel like I’m part of a cult, but it’s the coolest cult ever. Bojack Horseman

It’s common knowledge that I love art that makes me cry, but I never thought I’d cry while watching a cartoon. This show is equal parts acerbic, hilarious, and downright depressing (read: I love this show so much). Harping on the fragility of time, the fourth season of Bojack Horseman continued its upward trajectory and gave me one of my favorite quotes from and about television, probably ever. Bojack is one of the smartest, most thoughtful and well-written shows on this incredibly vast television landscape. We are so lucky to have it. The Emergence of Timothée Chalamet Relatively unheard of before 2017, Chalamet starred in two of the best films I saw this year — Lady Bird and Call Me By Your Name. Chalamet inhabited two completely different, complicated characters but made them both vulnerable, empathetic, and mesmerizing. He’s a star and even if the Academy doesn’t recognize him this year (which would be objectively incorrect), I’ll watch anything he’s in from here on out.

PROMA Trailer Hype

I have never experienced a theater crowd cheering for a freaking trailer before – titters of excitement for Harry Potter, at best – but once the Black Panther full trailer dropped there was only one logical response. We cheered for it before Spider-Man: Homecoming, before Marshall, before Thor: Ragnarok, and I hope to cheer for it again before February 2018, which is finally close. Seeing Things in Theaters Multiple Times Since moving to New York, I’ve never seen a movie twice in theaters - first because of cost and then because of time. Honestly I probably haven’t done it since high school, but I used to love it, and this year I finally returned to that with The Big Sick and Spider-Man: Homecoming. Worth it. A First Time with an Oldie

I’ve loved Titanic since I first saw it in 2000, but of course I was too young to see it in theaters. It was re-released in 3D for a quick stretch in 2012, but I was in India at the time, so this year marked the first time I saw Titanic in theaters, that too in impressive 3D. I will never tire of watching old favorites in packed theaters full of people who love the film as much as I do and hum along with the music or clap for big moments. The Year TV Got Angry In a year when we were all perpetually existential or angry, it was cathartic to see TV mirror that state. I reveled in the female rage of The Handmaid’s Tale, the intersectional activism of Dear White People, She’s Gotta Have It, and the straight-up middle finger that was Difficult People. Having an AppleTV is almost as gratifying as screaming into the void! Facemasks A pack of facemasks literally arrived on my and Radhika’s doorstep at a point in 2016 when we didn’t realize we needed them. Since then, I’ve tried to always have some sheet masks around and let myself splurge on a charcoal mask that I’ve done almost every weekend without fail since September. Put on a mask, start an episode, remove and rinse. Treat yo self. Mean Girls: The Musical Seconding Rads on this. I was lucky enough to catch Mean Girls in the workshop stage before it left New York for a summer hiatus and then previews – even in that early stage it was fantastic. It’s exciting to have been with a piece of art through all these iterations (not even including the movie and its decade of cult-status), and I can’t wait to see it blow up next year. Existential Twitter Twitter was always at its most funny and weird during ungodly night-time hours; The night is darkest before the dawn and now it’s like Night Twitter 24/7. From politics to entertainment, we are at least winning at hilarity on social media. But seriously, delete his account. The Return of MoviePass This squad has been preaching the gospel of MoviePass since like, 2014, and I’ll admit I faltered in the middle there when it hit $50/month (I took the 3/$30 plan instead). But now it’s $9.99/month and people have heard of it and don’t make that blank face when I talk about it and wow guys we are saving so much on movies I feel so alive!!! People still regularly ask me if it’s legit/worth it/a scam, but I am happy to answer them and spread this joy. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Listen, some shows are just pure joy and this is the second Amazon show to give me this jarringly unfamiliar sunny feeling in my heart when I watch (shootout to you, Mozart in the Jungle). This show is like eating ice cream covered in candy (but with some sweet wine) and the best part it gets me inspired to create. Oh, Hello Dittoing Rads again because our first theatre experience of the year was one of the best of my whole life. I laughed so fucking hard at Oh, Hello — I’ve never seen a piece of comedy so meticulously crafted, down to every word of every joke, and you could hear the payoff in the laughs, which hardly ever stopped.

ARJUN

“I’m not a body/the body is but a shell.” Like so many of us, I spent a scary amount of time this year being resentful and confused about a million different things happening in my hometown, state, and country – things outside of my own body, bigger than myself. It is then maybe my (our?) subconscious trying to tell me something else in the shared themes of the music I was coming back to the most. While I would say I was consumed by questions of the foundation our entire world rests on, my iTunes would counter that my existential questions this year were actually pointed inward, contemplating over what constitutes a relationship in 2017. “Is it warm enough for you inside me?” With the full acknowledgement that there was a LOT of great music from other artists, when I look back on what set music in 2017 apart from other years, I think I’ll most remember albums like SZA’s ctrl, Moses Sumney’s Aromanticism, and Charli XCX’s Pop 2. These three have some pretty big differences (namely, how they literally sound), but I would argue that they are all contributors to the same internal dialogue that a single 20-something year old living in New York was having, if not always aware he was having it. They ask questions about all forms of love and affection, including (but not limited to): What does it mean to love? What does that even look like in 2017? Is it co-dependent? Is it more than an initial attraction? Does it give us our worth? Is it harmful to tie our worth to it? How stupid are we for putting ourselves through it? If the stupidity makes us happy, is it actually stupid? How do we handle heartbreak? Do we take on an arrogant braggadocio? Do we show the utter lack of confidence hiding under that? And hey, what role does sex play in all this? “I’m not tryina go to bed with you/I just wanna make out in your car.” Admittedly, some of these aren’t the most original questions of all time. It’s the way these artists answered (or tried to answer) them that felt special to this point in time. When SZA says, “Lately you’ve been feeling so good/I forget my future/never pull out,” there isn’t even a question if they’re having sex, and no narrative build-up of her career; they are conditional to even be at the point in time being confronted. For the narrator, the to-pull-out-or-not debate is less a sign of carelessness and more one of carnal satisfaction (though she points out it's pretty careless too). In a borderline companion piece, Charli XCX adds on, “I just wanna spend the night/Fucking in your bed tonight/Watch a little TV/I love it when you need me.” Sex and what comes after are given equal weight in all of the toiling, tossing, and turning. “Ooh no she didn’t/Ooh yes, I did.”

No doubt, these songs have selfishness and over-dramatization at work. But elsewhere, there’s a clearly embedded sense of self-awareness, too. On “Indulge Me,” Moses Sumney’s verse starts and ends with a bit of a call and response when he sings, “All of my old lovers have found others…All of my old others have found lovers.” There’s meant to be some sadness here, but the wordplay suggests a certain irony; he’s far from shocked. Similarly, on “Out of My Head,” Charli XCX, Tove Lo, and ALMA begin singing, “You got me doing all this stupid shit/you fuck me up like this,” before finishing with, “Secretly I’m kinda into it, though.” It’s as if the narrator is fully aware that she’s enveloping you in her own problems and she’s totally cool with that – she’s even giving you a wink while doing it. The listener is simultaneously watching a card trick and listening to the magician explain exactly what he/she is doing each step of the way. “I blame it on your love/every time I fuck it up.” All of that is to say nothing of the music. Throughout, we are sent on a journey of eclectic sounds & compositions, ranging from no-fucks-given aggression to dancefloor escapism to soothing near-lullabies. The fully-formed picture is ultimately what made these works feel alive in the present. They’re messy, they’re self-important, they’re dramatic, they’re self-deprecating. They’re 2017.

ADITYA

Master of None, season 2 It’s exciting to watch talented people swing for the fences. Master of None, Aziz’s love letter to New York, millennial aimlessness, Italian cinema, food, and about 45 other things, is a start-to-finish shot at greatness. It’s filled with terrific performances, and breathtaking shots. It also radiates intelligence in its observations; Dev might be aimless but Aziz has a point of view.

In a toxic 2017, the show’s generous nature stands out. In ‘New York, I Love You,’ Dev is completely absent; the exhilarating episode instead elevates viewpoints that are often reduce to stock clichés – the doorman, the driver, etc. In ‘Thanksgiving,’ Dev plays a clear supporting role as Lena Waithe’s Denise accepts her sexuality and hopes for her family to do the same. In episode after episode, Master of None pursues interesting stories, whether they’re with Dev or Arnold or Denise or Francesca or a taxi driver. The show insists that it’s worth caring about other people, and the spirit of empathy and curiosity is refreshing. The show is unabashedly cinematic in its aesthetic. The first episode is a surprisingly detailed (if low stakes) homage to Bicycle Thieves, presented in black & white with dialogue entirely in Italian. Later references include L’Avventura and La Dolce Vita. Despite these influences, Master of None makes excellent use of the episodic nature of TV, with installments devoted to big issues, like the theme episodes of old. ‘First Date’ uses an inventive structure to highlight the bleak fun of app-driven dating. ‘Religion’ tackles..religion. ‘Door #3′ is a portrait of career indecision. Sprinkled throughout are observations of fame and celebrity, and Aziz’s (and Dev’s) status as a minority provides a unique observational lens. Let me point out that the season is also fun. It doesn’t matter how many hours of Fellini Aziz has watched; the moment he sings about eating food, it’s clear that Tom Haverford is irrepressible. The show is consistently funny, both sharp and silly (I’ll laugh at any framing of the tiny Dev next to his immense buddy Arnold). Dev’s relationship with Francesca is, for me, the best rom-com of the past few years. It’s bracing to watch funny, charming people fall in love, and there’s a thrilling prolonged scene in ‘Dinner Party’ - where Dev is sitting in an Uber processing the fact that he is desperately in love – that ranks among the best of the year. Mask Off + I’m the One + Red Bone I’ve been told that I’m bad at “good” music. Because of the pretentious circles within which I reside, I’m often faking musical expertise. ‘You know who’s great?’ I’ll say. ‘Ess Zee Ayy. Yeah, no, SZA, that’s what I meant. They’re good.’ But when no one was looking over my shoulder, it was these three songs all day all year. That’s a liability! Get Out & Lady Bird Two brilliant debuts. Get Out is a biting satire/comedy/polemic built on a horror movie chassis. From the creepiness of the “No, no, no, no…” scene to the “haha…wait a minute” guilty recognition of the liberal family to the shoulder-slumping devastation of the keys scene, the film takes no false steps. Lady Bird is great all the way through, led by Saoirse’s fiery performance and a sparkling, hilarious script. Greta Gerwig’s love and understanding for the characters on screen shines through. NYT’s “Trump’s Daily Life” Pieces The NYTimes has grown essential in the Trump era. Sure, sometimes they Disney-ify Nazis, or allow David Brooks to moan about the difficulties of getting a sandwich with a poor person. But have you seen the WSJ editorials, or the ever-multiplying panels of “experts” on CNN? I’ll take the Gray Lady. While there’s plenty to appreciate, I want to call out the Sunday night articles, usually by Maggie Haberman and 300 unnamed sources, that offer hilarious insight into Trump’s daily life. I can’t get enough of these. 8-12 Diet Cokes? 14 hours of TV? Tries to impress John Kelly by doing a push-up? Sexts himself from Melania’s phone? Tell me more. We laugh so as not to cry. I Am Not Your Negro

The startlingly powerful documentary relies exclusively on Baldwin’s own words, culled from various letters and writings, and read by Samuel L. Jackson. Even if you’ve read Baldwin, to sit in the theater and drown in his unparalleled eloquence is a shattering experience. The director, Raoul Peck, works with Baldwin to underline the film’s relevance to present day. Images of police brutality in the 1960s fade into images from Ferguson; Baldwin’s words close the gap in time. Another standout section involving a clip of Baldwin explaining his “fixation” on racial issues onThe Dick Cavett Show- a Tonight Show forerunner - is a sharp rebuke to the anti-intellectualism that is currently pervasive. I was hanging on to Baldwin’s words, amazed at their relevance in the world I would walk into when the credits rolled. I can’t recommend this highly enough. Revisiting the Godfather A back-to-back screening of The Godfather Parts I & II was a lovely experience. I was particularly moved by the father and son seated behind me. Most of us learn to appreciate the Corleones through our fathers, forcing ourselves to stay awake the first time we watch it because our infallible dads insisted it was brilliant. The pair behind me was all too familiar. The father patiently entertained his son’s incessant questioning (who’s that again? Wait, why did they kill Luca? Can we get more popcorn?), leapt to cover his son’s eyes during the topless scene, and nudged his son excitedly during the Baptism. The kid is now mixed-up in the family business for life. Twitter I love Twitter. I love retweeting things I agree with and I also love retweeting things I disagree with with a “get a load of this guy”-type comment. I love jumping into the fray and tweeting something like “call your senator!” and then patting myself on the back. I love seeing what other people I follow like, and seeing that they like things that are very similar to what I like, further affirming the idea that everyone is on my side. I love political twitter. I love sports twitter. I love movie twitter. I love reading the first sentence of an article and immediately knowing that I want to tweet it out. I love twitter. Protests For when Twitter isn’t enough. I was dreading Trump’s inauguration day, fully anticipating tears when the Obamas finally helicoptered away to a much deserved peace. When the moment came, and Trump was sworn in, it was…bearable. I knew that in less than 24 hours, I would get to witness thousands of women marching in defiant response. The Women’s March had an incredible energy that I assumed was rare. But it was replicated repeatedly - at the airports after the attempted Muslim ban, outside the courthouse where the ACLU challenged the administration, throughout the city after the DACA decision, etc., etc. I’m a longtime petition signer, but I’m a novice protestor. I’m not great at chanting and I’m bad at estimating how big to make letters. A lot of my signs looked like I’M WITH her. But with the Trump administration determined to reduce the idea of America, protests were catharsis. They were a messy, vital declaration to the administration that they would be met with a response. They’ve recharged and inspired and reassured, and they’re what I’ll remember most about 2017.

#best of #2017 #arts #movies #film #tv #music #sza #master of none #blackish #titanic #twitter

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theworstbob · 8 years

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yellin’ at songs, 3.4.2017

giving due consideration to all the songs which debuted on the billboard chart this week, with a stunning twist ending that will leave you rocked like a hurricane

oops) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars

Did this debut 12.10.2016? Yes. Yes, it did. Am I making an exception because it was released as a single on 30 January? Hellz yeah. I think we always knew cheeseball Bruno Mars circa 2012 was going to resurface at some point, and it is here in full force. "Take a look in that mirror/Tell me who's the fairest/Is it you?/Is it me?/Say it's us/And I'll agree." Absolutely no thank you. But this is cheeseball Bruno Mars in the post-"Uptown Funk" era, so yeah it's corny but it's still such a tasty jam, it's fun and it's upbeat and yeah that line is bad but, honestly, saying that line is cheesy completely discredits the hyper-confident "yeah, I know you love it" way Bruno delivers it. He knows it's corny, but he also knows it's gonna make you smile, and goddamnit, he's right. There's two tracks with Future features this week, and I just listened to Future. Gimme some got damn cheese, y’all. I don’t need more bleakness in my life.

4) "Chained to the Rhythm," by Katy Perry ft./Skip Marley

Like, this. This is pop music right now, so I'll take my cheesy-ass Bruno Mars any fucking day of the week, thank you. You know you're in for a bleak and shitty time when the title of the song evokes imagery of imprisonment and enslavement. This is a song about how we're all idiots for enjoying music with our free time. It feels like going to Thanksgiving and getting cornered by your 13-year-old cousin who just watched a Tim Burton movie for the first time and thus has figured out all of life’s secrets. There's a guest verse about how They awoke lions and are about to face the consequences, which is a bizarre aside in a song about how we're all actually asleep. The song does not build to that verse, and the verse does not build off of the song. All in all, though, it's just another entry in the decade-long list of awful Katy Perry songs. "Ur So Gay" turns 10 in November. In the history books, Barack Obama's entire presidency lives within Katy Perry's career as a pop star. Why’d y’all let this happen? I downloaded my MySpace blogs, I can tell ya, I was against this from the jump. This one’s on y’all. Y'all are silly.

42) "Cold," by Maroon 5 ft./Future

Like all Maroon 5 songs, this is acceptable.

54) "Bom Bidi Bom," by Nick Jonas ft./Nicki Minaj

I'm trying to figure out why this song left me so cold. I don't want to pin it all on Nick Jonas. I think I might be judging it based on its presence on the 50 Shades of Gray soundtrack, but I have heretofore associated the 50 Shades of Gray soundtracks with a certain melodramatic trait, and this association has me feeling like "Bom Bidi Bom" is an attempt at light-hearted fare written by people who have never actually smiled. This should be fun, right? This should be tons of fun! But none of the ingredients are fun. I’m not hear to kinkshame but I wouldn’t call 50 Shades a good time, I don't think Nick Jonas is who I'm gonna seek out when I need to party (why would you call Nick when Joe made "Cake by the Ocean," this might just be one Jonas away from truly burning up), and it sure sounds like Nicki Minaj was happy to take that 50 Shades money and run. I wanted to like it! I was pumped, I thought I was gonna have a better time! This song just bom bidi bummed me out. I am so proud of what I accomplished with this paragraph, y'all ain't even realize, man.

62) "Shining," by DJ Khaled ft./Beyonce & Jay-Z

Get that paper, Bey. Get that paper, Jay. You got twins on the way. They're not gonna be cheap, and hey, I know she's killing that preschool game right now, but I don't think Blue's quite ready to live on her own yet! Hook up with the meme man and get that got damn paper! This is a reminder that, even at the peak of her powers, Beyonce can still make the occasional misstep. None of us are immortal. She will barely feel this, just as you will barely feel whatever failure you're presently going through. Take heart! (And if you've yet to find success, remember: before she was Beyonce, she had to be in an Austin Powers movie. No matter where we are, we'll all be okay.)

71) "Helium," by Sia

I respect it. It's definitely not my jam, but I respect it. I only have so much time for piano 'n strings. It's a type of song that has a high floor but a low ceiling. At some point, you start editing the Grey's Anatomy closing-moments montage this'll play over in your head. This is a Sia song, and I'm just seeing Izzy leaving McSteamy in the rain. But: this is that 50 Shades sound I was talking about! So there’s... that?

77) "Heroe Favorito," by Romeo Santos

Bob! the first three seconds of this song: Oh, yo! This might be a nice '70s soul throwback! I'm down with this! Bob! after the dude started singing: Oh. Oh, okay. So this is what you have decided to sound like. Maybe I'm just not feeling it this week. I really dug the guitar solo! There's a lot of things to like about this song! But you have to listen to this dude to get there. I think it may have just hit me in the wrong week, I'm usually down for falsetto, I should be down for this, but I'm thinking about listening to this again in three weeks to give it a fair shake, and I get the funny feeling he's still gonna have this voice.

84) "Everything 1K," by Kodak Black

So here's the thing: fuck this dude. Innocent until proven guilty and all that, but this dude seems like a real piece of shit. There are rappers who are a) not on trial for rape, and b) actually good at rapping. How about the rest of this week we listen to those guys instead!

85) "Everyday," by Ariana Grande ft./Future

This song wasn't really doing it for me until it got to the "la la la" bit, and that's what did it for me. This song is going to sit in the top 20 for a couple weeks at least and it's solely because I feel that the "la la la"s sound the way love is supposed to feel. Future shouting "everyday" over and over again? Enh. Ari trying to sell a line in which she swears? Enh. Ari singing "la la la?" THIS IS WHY I HAVEN'T STOPPED BELIEVING. (In what?) ANYTHING.

87) "Rolex," by Ayo & Teo

This is a four-minute song about a brand of luxury watches. I am sure this is for someone, and I am so happy that something in this world is for them. Other people are happy as a result of this song existing, and my heart soars like an eagle at the thought.

88) "Cash Me Outside (#CashMeOutside)," by DJ Suede The Remix God

i questioned whether there was anything of value to be gained from listening to this song, but now that i've listened to this song, well, y'know what? there was not

93) "It Ain't Me," by Kygo x Selena Gomez

"Who's gonna walk you through the dark side of the morning?" is a lyric I'd scrawl across a thousand notebooks were I ten years younger. This was a "hot track," I daresay! It's like the response track to "We Are Young" I never knew I needed. This is the most I've ever enjoyed Selena Gomez, and Kygo seems chill! This could've been way more overdone than it was! Time will tell if I'm being overly generous to the song that followed the "Cash Me Outside" remix, but I think this was pretty legit!

94) "Yeah Boy," by Kelsea Ballerini

I'm glad I get the chance to talk about Kelsea Ballerini! Kelsea Ballerini's album, The First Time, is a legitimately Great pop/country album. It's a great piece of bubblegum you can chew on for 40 minutes. Now, you likely listened to this song and noticed the presence of the line "Blue jeans and a ball cap" in the first verse, and I am aware I would excoriate a bro country schmuck for being lazy and cliched with a line like that, but here's the thing about Kelsea Ballerini and her album: it's hella basic. When I extol the virtues of The First Time, I am not singling out its grand artistic vision, because this is, on its face, standard pop/country fare. It feels so good with Kelsea Ballerini, though! There's a reason for that: when you check out the Top 50 Hot Country Songs, eleven of the 50 feature female voices. It is, legitimately, the fact that bro country cliches are being funneled through a female artist that make Kelsea Ballerini feel fresh and fun and exciting, just the simple fact of the female perspective is rare enough in country music that it qualifies as an interesting spin on old tropes. None of this is intended to discredit Kelsea Ballerini, or suggest she’s getting by due to some sort of reverse sexism that has never actually existed outside of anyone’s imagination. She is clearly a great talent -- peep how she’s getting it done on an indie label! (One with noted billionaire Terry Pegula’s backing, but, hey, indie is indie!) And I kind of slagged on the artistic vision, and that was unfair, because without some sort of unique perspective, this song still would’ve fallen flat (see: Cassadee Pope’s “Summer”), and all Kelsea Ballerini has done to date is put out quality songs. She clearly knows what she’s doing. And not for nothing: CHOREOGRAPHY! THERE'S CHOREOGRAPHY IN A COUNTRY MUSIC VIDEO! Kelsea Ballerini is a true American hero, and I'm so stoked she's had a successful couple years.

96) "Hurricane," by Luke Combs

See, this guy seems cool, at least as cool as a dude who prolly voted for Trump can seem. (I'm solely judging his beard. His social media is apolitical as far as I cared to research, and while it's encouraging he doesn't think Julian Edelman is a better receiver than Julio Jones and that he's aware of the fact of CeeLo Green's existence, that trashboy beard is just straight GamerGate. C’mon, guy.) This song is basic. "I was in a bar, you walked in, I took you home." Oh wow such a deep intricate story. I can’t think of a single other song where anyone did anything like a hurricane, you sure rocked that metaphor. But because this dude isn't conventionally attractive, this song automatically becomes more interesting, because it feels like more than “hey we found this hot guy to sing about Chevrolet summer nights,” and that makes one actually want to do basic research and see this song has been out for nearly a year and a half and the dude's just been out there grinding this whole time. It’s weird that he grinded this song, of all things, but it’s clear he worked to get here. He might have even written the entire song on his own! That’s only backhanded if you don’t know Nashville. I’m not that big on this song? But I respect him. I can't say I'm going to seek out his other works, but if I’m out of things to do some Saturday afternoon and am presented with those other works, I might give it a shot. Luke Combs: not the worst! Who'da thunk?

Now that I’ve gone on about country music for 10,000 words, which is what anyone came to hear, The top 20 20) "Beibs in the Trap," by Travis Scott (1.21) 19) "My Old Man," by Zac Brown Band (2.25) 18) "Castle on the Hill," by Ed Sheeran (1.28) 17) "Call Casting," by Migos (2.18) 16) "Running Back," by Wale ft./Lil Wayne (2.11) 15) "I'm Better," by Missy Elliott ft./Lamb (2.18) 14) "Way Down We Go," by Kaleo (1.14) 13) "Everyday," Ariana Grande ft./Future (3.4) 12) "Light," by Big Sean ft./Jeremih (2.25) 11) "Guys My Age," by Hey Violet (2.11) 10) "Good Drank," by 2 Chainz ft./Gucci Mane & Quavo (2.11) 9) "Yeah Boy," Kelsea Ballerini (3.4) 8) "It Ain't Me," Kygo x Selena Gomez (3.4) 7) "Now & Later," by Sage the Gemini (2.25) 6) "Shape of You," by Ed Sheeran (1.28) 5) "That's What I Like," by Bruno Mars (3.4) 4) "Despacito," by Luis Fonsi ft./Daddy Yankee (2.4) 3) "Issues," by Julia Michaels (2.11) 2) "iSpy," by KYLE ft./Lil Yachty (1.14) 1) "Run Up," by Major Lazer ft./PARTYNEXTDOOR & Nicki Minaj (2.18) “iSpy” cracked the top 20 this week and that makes me so incredibly hopeful for the future. Also apparently Chainsmokers and Coldplay dropped a collaboration today, so I hope everyone enjoyed Yellin’ at Songs because this is the last installment you can’t make me YOU CAN’T M

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