#jack's perfunctory interest GET HIS ASS

[scintillyyy]

LOVE when i see tags that point me in the exact direction that i want btw. dc scott peterson u are a unit, and a credit to ur name. behold. a version of the dc batbible.

(source)

(putting more under the cut for my reference)

[thenookienostradamus]

It's incredibly interesting to come back to Hannibal (as in the show) after an extremely transformative near-decade of my life and note the differences in how I perceive the characters.

On the first watch, Hannibal came off as charming, suave, persuasive, and solid. I guess it's either a testament to Mads Mikkelsen's acting or a testament to the largely substantiated rumor that he often didn't know what the fuck Hannibal was supposed to be saying in a given scene that now his demeanor comes across so differently. It's still a mask, yes, but it's not one piece. It's a mosaic of hundreds of different pieces held together by (pardon the pun) force of will. Of course even a super-smart, super-sophisticated liar can't keep that many proverbial plates spinning at once, so the slips are frequent. Hannibal attracts curious and/or reckless people, people who want or feel compelled to find out what is underneath the mask. Alana, Mason, Jack, etc.

Of course that's the problem. Regular people - even extraordinarily perceptive ones - have trouble accepting the fact that there is nothing behind the mask. Only void. He's all surface. Hannibal is what he does, and that can vary from minute to minute. Only the occasional appearance of cohesion makes him look like anything other than a creature of pure, self-serving instinct. He collects pretty things, he eats, he tortures and kills. Most straightforward possible motive: gratification.

Will is of special interest to him because here is this sloppy-ass bleeding wound of a person who can't help but carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Will Graham is the universe's doormat...or so he perceives because he can't pry himself out of his own head. He just feeels so hard all the time. Now with some well-intentioned therapy and a lot of work, Will could build himself a toolkit to cope with that too-keen empathy. But he's not in a mindset where he wants to do that - or even can do it - because he thinks he's unfixable. That he alone among all humans is extra-special doomed to a life of constant mortal wounding, all of which somehow fails to kill him. It's pretty fucking exhausting, actually. Like, kindly get over yourself, sir.

Not that Hannibal is any different. 'I don't find you that interesting.' 'You will.' Oh please shut the fuck up, you drama queen.

Which is why their folie à deux comes about. In Will, Hannibal finds someone who is not only a constant victim but someone who deep down (or not so deep down) thinks he deserves everything that Hannibal dishes out. He fights it for a little while, but it's a perfunctory fight he puts up "because that's what a real person would do."

Not that Will is a total sheep (lamb?). Far from it. Once the realization hits, he goes all-in as Hannibal's punching bag. Because he knows Hannibal is just sadistic and patient enough to scrape out every last shred of his humanity. Which sounds like an incredible deal to the World's Saddest Sad Boy, because once Hannibal puts the finishing touches on his design...Will won't have to feel anymore. Ever again. Achievement fucking unlocked.

The other two characters that I find newly fascinating now where on the first go-round I hardly considered them at all are Bedelia and Abigail.

Bedelia knows exactly what Hannibal is and isn't. She sees it right away. But she literally can't stop herself from poking the bear for her own amusement until the bear turns and eats (part of) her. Pretty sure she considers the leg collateral damage...and a fair trade for having had the chance to needle that pompous fuck until he popped. That's how she gets her jollies.

Abigail, well...her dad was bush league. She's the real deal. Once she sees what she can have, she's not just letting Hannibal gut her, she's scooping out her own insides and handing them to him. Honestly, I think that pisses Hannibal off. He can't mold her at every step. He can't draw out the torment, which is his favorite thing. Once the torture victim starts breaking their own limbs or putting the thumbscrews on themselves, it ruins the fun. If she were older, she would have known that. But she's young, she's enthusiastic. She's all in on whatever she commits to, and that happens to be murder. And if she just skipped off into the sunset and leaned in by her own girlboss self, she could carve a bloody path through life that's easily as wide as Hannibal's, if not wider. But she sticks around a little too long, still not quite at the Bedelia level of recognition that kicking the hornet's nest could have visceral consequences, so she has to go. Kind of a shame, but she wasn't quite as good at suffering as Will is.

So Hannibal and Will may be "murder husbands," but the most important murders they commit are inside their own binary system. Will murdering himself endlessly and Hannibal also murdering Will endlessly. Everything else is just incidental.

[amwritingmeta]

The Truth

This ficlet picks up in the last few moments of 15x18 and follows Dean through 15x19. It doesn’t really come with any warnings or age tags? It’s canon compliant. Everything hurts. Thanks for reading. (prefer AO3?)

You sit in a room with no windows in a home with no sunlight and you can’t fucking stop crying. Your brother is calling again, a buzzing noise against cement, vying for your attention and all you do is dig the heels of your palms into your eyelids. Keep it together. Reach out, and do so greedily, for your scattering sanity and pull it back together. Ignore the pain. Ignore it igniting your insides. Ignore its persistent flame licking slowly at the air in your lungs, sucking it right out of you. A stuttered sob. Bite it back, bite down hard against it. Stop. Fucking. Crying.

You hate yourself. Suffocating self-blame like something sticky and sweet in your throat. Your chest is imploding with the building fury. If you’d only not been so goddamn stubborn. If you’d only not been so hellbent on revenge. Who the fuck do you think you are? You didn’t expect to live through this so why the fuck did you bring him with you? You don’t think. No, that’s not even true because you chose. You wanted him there. You didn’t want to go alone. You accepted his company because it made you think… made you believe you had a chance. His presence strengthened you, like he always does. 

Did. 

Fuck. 

Your eyes are aching. You stop pressing on them, open them instead, sight blurred, you give up, get up, get ready to walk out of the room with no windows into the home with no sunlight. Get ready to call your brother back. Tell him you’re alive, Cas isn’t. And you just stand there. Not ready. Not ready yet. Not quite yet. And your eyes are on the place where you stood a handful of minutes earlier, where words were said to you while this man you’ve known, and yet never really known completely, looked at you in ways that made your heart constrict and your skin goosebump and the memory is so fresh it makes you falter all over again, makes you feel something dangerously soften again, something that has always kept a tight fist around your every moment of hope, and you feel that wonder build itself back up, created with every new sentence telling you who you are.

How you’re seen.

By Cas.

But then he was taken from you. In the next breath taken away from you forever. He said it was forever. That’s what he said. That was the deal. Wasn’t it?

You clench your jaws and you look away. The fist tightens. You can’t linger. You’re ready because you have to be. The fight is far from over. You pick your phone up off the floor and you leave the room and you shut the door behind you. 

You’re still crying.

So you don’t call Sam. 

You get in your car and you let her tyres scream out into the lightening landscape and you follow roads you’ve driven a thousand times, roads you could drive with your eyes closed and a fifth of something strong and cajoling burning in your stomach, roads that are like black ribbons, like the wheels of Baby are grinding against a mourning band wrapped around the Earth, but you know there isn’t one, can’t be one, because everything remains just as it was less than half a day ago, for everyone except for you. 

Everything remains just as it was less than an hour ago for you—except for him.

And you grip the steering wheel and you fight the tears and you think the fighting might be causing them so you leave them be, let them run down your face, run their course, run out. You knew. You always knew it would end like this. Could see it coming like the glare of headlights on a dark highway. Of course it would end bloody. Of course it would finish in death and destruction. Why wouldn’t it? Have you ever, for even one second, thought that it wouldn’t and actually believed it? Deep down trusted that there was another outcome waiting for any of you?

No.

How could you?

Everything you love, you lose. Unless you fight for it, tooth and nail. Unless you rage against the loss until it scurries off to its corner and leaves you with pieces to be put back together. And you’ve put them back together. More times than you can count at this point, only for them to be torn back apart. Again and again. That’s life? Is that what living is? 

It’s your life. It’s all you’ve ever known. All you’ll ever know.

You don’t get further than Lebanon before you start noticing it: everything is standing still, nothing is what it was an hour ago, absolutely no one else remains. Abandoned cars gaping empty blocking your way, belongings dropped on sidewalks like their owners suddenly lost interest, vanished children from swings now played with only by a passing breeze and you can feel it. They’re gone. All of them. 

I cared about the whole world because of you.

And you shut your eyes to it, just for a moment, just to regroup, rearrange your thoughts, pick and choose which ones are wanted right now and which ones need to wait, because there’s no alternative. The fact serves to numb you. You open your eyes and take in whatever this whole new world is that lies before you; letting steely conviction prop up the waver inside you, an underlining for how if you don’t focus you don’t fix it. So you focus.

First you need to get your ass to where Sam and Jack are. Your brother stopped calling a while back. There are a dozen texts. You text him back you’re on your way. Just can’t tell him over the phone. Can’t say the words over the phone. Don’t even know what the words are. Cas is gone. It’s your fault. It’s always your goddamn fault.

You refuse the tears this time, and open the doors back up to the anger, acidic in your chest and directed entirely at yourself as you step on the gas, eyes on the road ahead, one hand reaching for the stereo, the blaring music serving as an intervention, a blocker for the impressions crowding in your head, of the man you’ve known and yet never known completely. Until today.

You reach your brother and the kid and you tell them. The words are perfunctory. The truth, but not the whole truth. So help you. They don’t question. You see their grief and you can’t indulge, can’t join them in it. You fix it, that’s what you do. By giving up? Giving in. Same thing. The kid is disappointed, but the kid doesn’t get that all the cards have been played and there’s no more choices to make—save this one. Sacrifice like a red thread through your entire story and its time to pull on it. You die, Sam dies, willingly, unwillingly, however God wants it, but the world lives. Cas lives.

No dice. 

God dismisses you, because what God wants is for you to stay in this moment of shame, of suffering, of loneliness. The ultimate punishment for disobeying, for refusing to heed him when heeding was offered, for staying defiant to the very last. And here it is then, the last. At last. And so you have your pick of bottles, and a second pick and third pick, pouring their contents down your throat, letting it drown the shame, flood the suffering, pool around the loneliness until you’re on the brink of forgetting the recent, because your mind swims in old memories, clinging to the good ones like they’re life rafts. Cas is right there, present in all of them. He would be. For all your years of denying it to yourself, you’ve known for a while that Cas is the one thing keeping you from drowning. Lending breath whenever you’ve felt like you were fighting for air. Grabbing hold whenever you’ve reached for something to hold onto. 

Sam is your cornerstone, but Cas is the mortar between the better parts of you, because he’s never backed down from calling you out on your bullshit. He never used to. Never did. Before… 

Fuck, you’re drunk.

It’s now, in the seconds between awake and sleeping, that you finally admit it fully to yourself that what you feel more than shame, more than loneliness, more than anything else is regret. What’s causing the suffering is the fact that, when this man you’ve loved for longer than you’re even sure of yourself told you that you’re the opposite of what you’ve always feared yourself to be, when he told you that he sees you as you are, understanding you in ways that you didn’t even realise yourself that you’ve always longed to be understood until he was standing there, understanding you, when this man confessed—professed—his love for you, all you could do was close up, and deny him. 

The failure to act, to speak, to do something, anything other than all the wrong things is like a blade, precise, unyielding, refusing to be ignored.

You are so broken.

You’re not.

How long? How long did Cas know that he loved you? How long could you have gotten to love him back, if you hadn’t been such a fucking coward?

No answer. 

You sleep. Deeply, dreamlessly. 

You wake needing something to kill the pain and needing that something in copious amounts, but the kid distracts you with his antennae pricking: someone else is out there. So into the Impala you pile yourselves and you drive the roads you’ve driven a thousand times with that fifth of whatever sloshing around in your stomach and you find a too quiet stretch of mileage to make a pitstop, but your bladder has to wait when there’s movement and what seemed as lifeless as every other place surprises you with a dog. One dog. The final dog. The only dog on the planet. 

What’re the odds of that? 

And your chest is suddenly swelling with gratitude, because it’s a goddamn miracle, and you feel there’s good here, a sign that there’s still good, and it’s like Cas is there with you, in that moment, standing beside you, his presence filling you up, like a wind billowing out a slackened sail, and you can’t stop fucking smiling. Because you know it’s going to be okay, even as memories blister themselves through your mind with all the times you almost touched him but stopped yourself, you know it’ll be okay, because he’ll come back. He always comes back. 

Then the dog is spirited away and Chuck gives you a smile and a wave and you want to kill him. But he’s gone and how the hell are you supposed to kill God anyway? You’re feeling like you could do it with your bare hands, but then you step through the doors of a church together with Sam and the kid and the someone else is there. An archangel. The one that’s stalked the edges of your story for as long as it’s been written. The one that opened a rift to Purgatory and allowed you reentry and a second chance to have a prayer spoken and answered and you feel yourself tense, because you owe him, but you don’t trust him: he reminds you too much of yourself. Even so, here’s a key for the lock you can’t seem to pick.

Of course, it doesn’t work. 

And then your phone rings. And you stare at the name on the display and it doesn’t seem possible that Cas would have found a way back this quickly, but then there’s his voice on the line saying he’s here and he’s hurt and can you let him in and you’re on your feet in the blink of an eye, taking the stairs to the front door three at a time and feeling worry and concern, fear and anticipation mingle like something mildly intoxicating in your brain until you open the door and face the devil on the other side. There’s shock, bright and discombobulating, like hands grasping your shoulders and shaking you, hard. Already inside the bunker, too late to be stopped, the devil sneers and smirks at his impersonation getting you to let your guard down, as he knew it would. You control the disgust, but barely. You feel like spitting on the floor, something bitter on your tongue, but don’t. The devil is amused. You can’t fucking stand how this ruse means the last time you heard Cas’ voice it was thanks to this dick.

It’s not the last time.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest, and the thought that yes, it is, even though you refuse it. Thankfully, the devil and his brother in the same room is more pressing, especially with a freshly minted Death there to read the God book. Everything happens with a rapidity that makes even your head spin and ends with Lucfier dead by Michael’s hand, the God book proving an absolute dud, and the kid taking you and Sam aside for a word in private. Because he just got juiced up and he says, in that quiet way he has:

“I thought this new power meant I was dangerous. That I was bad. So I didn’t tell you. And I know that was wrong, but I didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.”

It’s alright, kid. 

You’re how we fight God. 

You’re how we win.

The plan is formulated through lowered voices as you stand with your brother and the kid at the very back of the library, the dimly lit antechamber housing the useless inter-dimensional geoscope acting as backdrop, and as the steps you need to take are worked out between the three of you, you feel how that fist within begins to loosen again, only this time it’s not because of anything other than your growing faith that this is it. This is how it really ends.

The clarity that comes with it should be startling, but isn’t. Because you’re beginning to see it. How it’s a tapestry. Your past. Woven into something traceable. The only life you’ve ever known, but here the weave is changing color, thanks to you, no one else. Your choices determine the weave, no one else’s. And now, working together with two of your closest, the knowledge that you’ll succeed this time is like a golden thread through all of it, finally catching the light so that you’ll notice it, acknowledge it. You’re stronger like this: together. You always were. 

It’s Chuck’s weakness, because he can’t comprehend it. There’s no compromise in him. No loyalty, no selflessness, no love.

He can’t write your ending. He has no power here. 

You asked what about all this is real—we are.

Cas was right. If only you’d heard him sooner. If only you’d really listened, instead of stacking bricks against him, walling yourself in with your fear and all the self-doubt that has always accompanied it. Warding yourself against the overwhelming lack of control in such utterly idiotic ways; idiotic because your control was never lesser, never hollowed out: you’ve always had a choice. And there was a golden thread, ever present, even inside each brick. All you have to do now is tug on it, and the walls will turn to sand. 

You don’t hesitate.

Knowing you has changed me.

You tug.

Sunshine reflects off the waters of the lake as you pull up. It’s a pretty spot you’ve chosen. The plan is working like a charm. Every tooth of the trap you’ve set is snapping in place at its expected moment, every predicted choice by the opposing force has been made in response to your subtle manipulation of them. Both of them. Because Chuck takes the bait, and shows, and Michael dies at his Father’s hand, and the Father is rendered godless at the hands of his grandson, and the legacy of death and destruction stops here. You know it does.

Except the human on the ground thinks his ending is to be murdered by his own creation, thinks you’ll pull your gun and place a bullet between his brows, or reach down and strangle him, like you’ve had in your head for months, and you leave him behind with the knowledge that he’s been lying to himself, trying to keep you doing the same, but you’re done.

You’re ready for the truth, because the truth…

You’re the most selfless, caring human being I will ever know.

…the truth is a golden thread, catching the light.

[eisforeidolon]

If you had to pick one: Cass, Jack, Dabb's Mary or Claire lol?

Yikes.  Talk about a cornucopia of terrible choices! 

Cutting because I just have to come to terms with the fact that brevity is probably never ever going to be my strong suit. 

Claire gets the first hell fucking no.  With the exception of her very first appearance as a small child, I never liked her.  Whiny brat teenager is not my first choice of character type even when done well and she emphatically wasn’t.  The way every bit of her story was pawned off in the most flatly perfunctory way possible for the dramaz?  She’s the epitome of everything that’s wrong with the writer’s recent choices.  The several chances the writers took to use her as an opportunity to make digs about the Winchesters being old and uncool definitely help her achieve dead last place.  I can’t say I’ve been impressed with Newton’s acting that I’ve seen, but I’m extremely pleased she’s busy enough to spare us any further Claire scenes.

I think I have to put Jack next as the least endurable.  I was pleasantly surprised with how they handled him right at the beginning.  I was dreading him in concept, but then I did find the Winchesters initial interactions with him interesting and illuminating of them - and at that point being ludicrously overpowered with intermittently functional powers was an attribute of, like, half the characters.  I wasn’t super attached, but I didn’t want him to die in a fire every time he appeared onscreen.  He was pretty bland and even from the beginning the writers kept randomly seesawing between treating him as an adult and a poor woobie child who we were supposed to lurve instead of being annoyed when he was stupidly unable to learn anything and therefore an active menace to everyone around him.  Still, I was accepting enough until he came down with the least interesting case of magic consumption ever and it became more and more clear he was just another character for the Winchesters to prop up rather than one to explore new facets of them with.  Ouroboros was the final come the fuck on straw.  All of the characters here are pretty terrible, but Jack literally taking over the main arc in season 14 was absolutely unforgivable.  He wins over Claire for me because I did like him okay for a while.  Also there were a lot of episodes I was still mostly enjoying in season 10 so hers were disappointing aberrations whereas by season 13, I was expecting (and getting) a lot less and Jack didn’t change how I felt much either way until mid-season 14.

Which brings it down to a call between Dabb’s Mary and Castiel.  There was never enough of original Mary as a character for me to be seriously attached to her for herself, but once upon a time, I really did like Castiel.  I think ultimately that’s why I have to rank Dabb’s Mary as least objectionable.  I liked the glimpses we got of real Mary in the time travel episodes and I hate everything Dabbernatural chose to turn her into when they brought her back - the surface level Grrl Powah bullshit, getting attached to literally everyone she wasn’t related to by blood over her sons, the cringey flings with Ketch and AU!Bobby because these writers just desperately want to write romance, how fundamentally the woman who most wanted out of hunting was set up as The Bestest Hunter Evar because the characters kept saying it so it must be true.  It was awful and I’m not sure that they could have made her more unlikeable if they were actively trying.  Still, there was so little time spent with the original character and she spent so little time ultimately with the Winchesters that she could have been worse - she could have been Castiel.

Castiel started out as a non-human ally who didn’t really understand being human or anything about the world but did ultimately choose the Winchesters over everything he knew.  If sometimes that meant making choices that had the worst possible consequences for said Winchesters, well, making his own choices was new to him and he did mean well and was in some tough spots.  The problem was that not only did he NOT start to learn how to be a better ally and fit in with their world, he actively became so much worse.  Worse to the point where now he betrays them at the drop of a hat whenever the writers get bored and whines like a toddler if the Winchesters don’t give him enough attention or trust and smugly demands apologies for consistently being an untrustworthy, unsympathetic, self-centered fuck up.  Worse to the point whatever brains and fighting skills he had got dropped somewhere along the way - I’m continually amazed by how the writers seem to simultaneously have crawled up Castiel’s ass and died and yet how they still can’t seem to give him anything at all to do in terms of the plots other than get beat up or stand around like a lost coat hanger.  Which doesn’t even mention how ridiculously mundane boring and braindead they made angels just to squeeze in all those terrible side plots to give Castiel something to do over the years.  It’s awful and it is made all the more awful because I did genuinely enjoy the character once and we spend so much time on him for it to end up with … yikes.  Nope nope nope.

So, yeah, TLDR - If I absolutely 100% have to pick one of them, I’m going with Dabb’s terrible RoboMary.  For all of the above reasons and because, if nothing else, since her first instinct is to be as far away from Sam and Dean as possible and all her “awesome” seems to happen off-screen, there’s generally less time wasted on her to hate.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Goosebumps 2: Haunted Halloween

I had a hard weekend. Wife and I foster dogs through our local animal shelter, and we have had the sweetest, most loving hospice foster for the past week. But the last couple days were really difficult for her, and it was clear her time was growing short, so we made the decision and brought her in to put her to sleep today. After we dried our tears and pulled ourselves together, we both needed a distraction so she did some work while I, obviously, went to the movies. But I wanted something that I could pretty much guarantee wouldn’t make me cry, and if you have been reading my reviews you know that’s uh...more difficult than you would think. This is a roundabout way of saying I’d like to take a minute so just sit right there, I’ll tell you how I became the only solo adult in a Sunday night showing of Goosebumps 2.

I didn’t hate the first Goosebumps, I really didn’t. I like kooky and paternal Jack Black as R.L. Stine, the basic premise is pretty sound, and there’s some very PG-friendly spookiness wrapped up in a blaring technicolor CGI package. I mean, I see the movies for free so...I have a pretty generous spirit. That being said, this sequel felt a little more gimmicky, a little less interesting, and a lot more money-motivated than its predecessor so I was verrrry skeptical. Does this one even live up to the mediocrity of the original? Well...

Meh? It feels a lot like the clearance aisle of CVS on November 1st. There’s some decent Halloween treats in there, but they feel a little bit stale and very cheap. The basic plot is pretty perfunctory: Sonny (Jeremy Ray Taylor, aka Ben from IT) and his friend Sam (Caleel Harris) find R.L. Stine’s first novel locked away in his old house, so they open it and unleash hell on earth which is how it’s supposed to work based on the internal rules of the first movie Slappy, the ventriloquist dummy. THEN they have to say some Latin-y phrase and Slappy comes to life! He wants to create his own family, and to do that he’s going to bring all of Halloween to life. Because in this movie, Halloween is made up of material objects and not an intangible concept like a unit or time or a cultural ritual made up of certain performative practices. 

Some thoughts:

The film’s weakness is just a general lack of thought or care about the rules of its own world-building. Nothing feels very high stakes because it’s all so...silly. Call me old-fashioned, but I grew up on classic Disney. Gaston was a rapey abuser, Aladdin faced off against a gigantic fire snake, and Mufasa DIED ffs. I want my peril to feel, you know, fucking perilous! Here, the most fraught thing that happens is when Slappy turns the kids’ mom into his own mom by making her look like a ventriloquist dummy. It just doesn’t have the same punch. 

See also: jokes that make no sense. A punch line at the end of a classroom scene has a girl who’s been electrified as a result of a science experiment gone wrong. She has the crazy bushed out hair and smoke marks all over her face and clothes, and she cries, “Today is picture day!” Um. Excuse the fuck out of me, but I can literally see a girl with her face painted like a tiger right behind you, and there are other students in the classroom wearing costumes. For the purposes of your lazy ass joke, you want to act like picture day is on actual Halloween? Also, writers, you’re telling me there’s not a better laugh line for that scene? CHICANEROUS and DEPLORABLE.

See also: You have an antagonist that you know can teleport. Your solution is to put him in a suitcase with chains around it and drop it in a lake. Do you...like are you guys even trying? I’m so embarrassed for you.

See also: a big turning point in the movie is the kids figuring out that the plot of the book they found is coming to life. But if the novel is unpublished and has been locked up for 30 years, how does Wikipedia know what the plot is? At this point it feels like you’re doing this shit to me on purpose. 

See also: How did that Grandma not wake up????? You make a big show of the fact that she almost woke up when Sam grabbed some candy from a bowl, but then plates are flying, gummy bears are attacking, and nothing?

Ok, now for some actually not so terrible things. I still love Jack Black as Stine, but he gets far too little screen time here because he was busy filming the far superior The House With a Clock in Its Walls. 

This is the second movie I’ve seen this week where a girl goes to a dance, sees the boy she’s dating kiss someone else, and runs away crying. That boy is no longer relevant or involved in her life after that, because instead she goes to focus on her family and her own goals. Maybe my favorite part of the ripple effect that #MeToo and Time’s Up is creating is that movies - even kids’ movies - are making it clear that girls don’t have to tolerate shitty boys being shitty. That boyfriends aren’t everything, and having a boyfriend isn’t the necessary default setting of adolescence. And most of all, we no longer have to devote any screen time to a crying girl saying “I was so stupid!” or “Why doesn’t he like me?” because we’re just now getting to a point where we can accept that girls deserve better than the bare fucking minimum of human decency masquerading as A Good Boyfriend.

I did dig the actual R.L. Stine cameo as he was giving the science award in the end.

I will say, sometimes in the middle of mediocrity, one really dumb funny thing will appear out of nowhere, and for me it was a super dumb pumpkin that was carved really clumsily, and when he came to life, he said “Hi! My name is Pumpkin. I’m round!” I’m still laughing about this, and I’m not sure why.

The performances are fine, and the message is fine, and seeing all the trappings of Halloween coming to life and rampaging on a town is fine. It’s all fine. However, if you have to choose a silly, spooky kids’ movie starring Jack Black to attend this Halloween season, you’re much better off choosing The House With a Clock in Its Walls.

[aliaoren]

doppel dinner party

Date: November 11, 2017 Location: The Villiers Estate Summary: A dinner party takes a turn for the interesting when everyone starts acting strangely.

With @ianncardero, @xxtuaharjunaxx, @gracevilliers

"Are you excited? This is weird, right? I'm pretty sure every single one of us thinks this is even just a /little/ weird. And yet we all still do it..." Iann said with a smile, coming over to smooth Tuah's shirt over his chest. It was already very tidy-looking, but Iann just wanted the excuse. He grinned, and teased, "Ahhhh, giving in to societal mores and pressures. The things I do for love.”

"Well, it was your idea, if I recalled correctly," Tuah wrapped his arm around Iann's waist to pull the man closer to him, his brow arched and his lips curled into a smile. "Are you saying that you're nervous to introduce me to your friends?"

"It wasn't my idea! It was Alia's, and she asked me and I said yes for the both of us," Iann chuckled, shamelessly. He looped his arms around Tuah's ribs as well, jostling the vampire (which wasn't easy because Tuah was very sturdy). Iann kissed Tuah and the leaned their foreheads together. "Oh - by the way, if it comes up, a little while back, Alia and I drove to Aventine City? You know that little mini-Las Vegas that's kind of supernatural? And we got almost-married in this tacky little chapel. It was hilarious. We didn't actually go through with it and I forgot to tell you but it miiiiight come up tonight so I don't want you to be surprised." Another perfunctory kiss and Iann leaned back. "Okay, you ready?"

"You almost got married?!" Tuah pulled back and looked at Iann with narrowed eyes. "Why am I finding this out only now, hm?" His jealousy flared it up a bit, though one couldn't possibly blame him when he had just learnt of such endeavour.

Poor Tuah, considering he was just learning of this now, last-minute, as a half-ass throwaway comment right before the guy was meeting the naga in question. Iann felt a flicker of contrition, but he steamrolled over that in an effort to continue being blithe about it. "I forgot! That's how silly it was, Toootally unimportant," Iann said, because when he stretched out words like that it made everything sound so casual and fun (even if Iann was peering into Tuah's eyes, deeply). "And it was definitely almost. It didn't even seem real! It was surreal. A total whim, we were - get this - " Iann chuckled to prepare Tuah for this punchline. "We thought we were totally pranking each other. We kind of ended up pranking ourselves!"

Tuah narrowed his eyes even further, brows now deeply furrowed together as he pressed his lips together to a thin line. "Right," he said slowly, trying his hardest not to think too much of it but was unable to. "Well then. I'll take your word for it." That being said, he was sure to keep an eye on both Alia and Iann for the most part of the evening. "Shall we, then? Don't want to make them waiting now, do we."

"My word is gold," Iann replied, noting Tuah's displeasure and feeling strangely pleased by it. He wasn't sure if he liked that feeling or not, but it was too late to analyse it now. Instead he took Tuah's hand and led him to Tuah's garage. "Pick a car, any car. We'll take one of yours," he said, by way of trying to placate the situation by letting Tuah drive one of his beloved vehicles.

"I only have one car, Iann," Tuah rolled his eyes at the other's words, "and we're definitely not taking your Westfalia. Not tonight, my dear." He was tempted to pick his motorbike for the ride, but decided against it at the last minute. The engine roared once the ignition started, and they drove towards Grace’s estate in his classic Chevrolet instead. “Anything else I should know about between you and Miss Oren?” he asked casually, looking over at Iann through the corner of his eyes, “or Miss Villiers, while we’re at it?”

"Nooooooo, no I promise," Iann said with a slight pause as he looked ahead, and then he lifted a pointed finger. "Oh! Grace and I went to California - LA, in fact - to meet her long lost pseudo-great-great-great grandchild who was - well - anyway - " Iann glanced over at Tuah, realizing that...yeah okay this wasn't just some jokey impulsive thing like Aventine City with Alia. "Well the grandson-guy was - is - a Hunter. And he needed Grace's expertise, ahhhhhhh - oh! Has Fane ever told you about that time he hunted down...ahahaha....Jack the Ripper? Well, he did that with Grace! Cool huh?" Tuah loved Fane, so Iann figured mentioning Fane in all this would make Tuah feel much better about the whole situation. "Anyway, the grandson needed Grace's...advice. And I tagged along because how often do I get to see a super-feral vampire who is still sentient? Like hardly ever. I was safe the whole time. The wholetime, unscathed, perfectly. Grace and her grandson were extraordinarily efficient, no muss, no fuss, we were back in Soapberry by dinnertime."

Tuah took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Dear Gods Iann wasn’t making this easy, was he? But he supposed that’s what he had to deal with dating Iann. “He’s told me about it, yes,” Tuah nodded his head a little, “I didn’t realise Miss Villier is still in touch with her family, however. I would’ve thought… you know, becoming a supernatural herself, she would’ve cut ties with her families a long time ago.” Not that he’d wish for her to do so, but he would’ve thought it would be the most rational step to take, despite her background as a hunter previously.

"Villiers. And no - she wasn't. Buddy got in touch with her, through me, because I knew him from before. Way before moving to Soapberry and all. Funny how it all works, such a small world..." When Tuah parked in front of the Villiers Estate (they'd both been here before for Grace's housewarming so it wasn't unfamiliar), Iann hopped out of the car and came around to Tuah. He tugged Tuah closer by the vampire's jacket collars, and gave him a kiss, steady and firm. "Now you're all caught up, hm? I love you. I only love you," he said, his breath coming out in cloudy puffs in the cold air between them. "Now let's get to dinnerpartying and all that."

Tuah heaved a sigh against Iann’s lips as he was kissed. “I’d still like to know about these adventures of yours, but I suppose I’ll have to wait until after dinner, hm.” He gave Iann a quick peck on the lips before walking towards the door and gave it a few knocks. He gave them his best and most polite smile as they were greeted, letting Iann lead the way since he’s the one that knew them personally.

Grace was no stranger to dinner parties. They had been a staple of her life, first in her parents' home, then her husband's. and then her own. She had even had double dates before, times when whichever fairweather friends she was spending time with would accompany her and whoever she was casually seeing for a fun activity. But this was the first time in a long time that it had felt important. She liked Iann. She liked Alia, but they had almost been married a few weeks ago and Grace had never spent any considerable time with the two of them in the same place. As for Iann's partner, Grace had never even met him. She was mentally preparing herself to blame Alia should anything go wrong when the doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts. "Darling?" she called. "They're here." Grace went to the door, taking a breath before opening it, offering her best smile. "Hello, welcome. Do come in." She ushered Iann and his handsome partner into the room, kissing Iann's cheek and extending her hand to greet Tuah. "Nice to finally meet you."

Alia had been looking forward to this dinner for the past week - any time with friends was well spent, and it was always so effortless with Iann. When the doorbell rang, she  was in the kitchen and called back to Grace, “I will be right there!” She joined her shortly after, placing a hand at the small of Grace’s back as she beamed at both guests. “Iann!” she said cheerfully, pulling him into a quick hug before she turned her attention on Tuah - who was dark-haired and beautiful - extending a hand to him. “And you must be Tuah. Thank you both for coming.”

Iann "Alia!" Iann said, grinning widely when he saw the naga and opening for a hug, before entering to receive a cheek kiss from Grace. That was new - clearly the new love-life situation had mellowed the stately vampire out, and Iann made an 'oh okay' noise and held Grace's elbow until her attention turned to Tuah. Both Alia and Grace greeted the man, and Iann couldn't help but beam with a (silly? maybe not) sort of pride at his beautiful fellow. Tuah was, after all, extraordinarily good-looking. One of those situations where Iann believed people would look at them and then say to Iann: 'You are one lucky guy'. "This is he, Tuah, Son of Arjuna," Iann couldn't announcing pompously, returning to put his arm around Tuah's heavy shoulders and jostle him. "Oh! Alia - babe - I brought the chicken. I should, ah, put it in your kitchen, Ms Vil - Grace?"

Tuah watched the exchange between Grace and Iann, his hand firmly on the man’s small back before he turned his attention towards the vampire, a polite smile still on his lips as he extended his hand for a handshake. “Likewise, Miss Villiers,” he replied, turning his attention towards Iann and Alia as they hugged. “Thank you both for inviting us over. I’ve been looking forward to this ah, dinner for the whole week.” Now with the newly dumped information about their relationship with Iann, Tuah wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Regardless, it was impolite to simply walk away from the dinner now. And Iann seemed excited for it, so he figured he’d suck it up and be on his best behaviour for the evening. He arched his brow when Iann casually called Alia by a pet name, standing a little taller than he already was. “I wasn’t sure what to bring as gift, so I hope this is alright.” He presented the Chateau Lafite 1865 towards Grace. “I hope this is up to your taste, Miss Villiers.”

Grace eyed Iann's love interest with an impressed smile. He was beautiful, tall and muscular with soft dark eyes and the sort of smile that couldn't help but put you at ease, even when it was forced, which Grace surmised was pretty likely. "Tuah, I'm Grace, and this is my partner Alia." She took the wine, smiling in return. "This is lovely. You really didn't have to." She backed up, beckoning them both to join them in the living room. "Should I crack this open now?" She was doing her best to ignore the fact that apparently, Iann called her girlfriend 'babe' now.

Alia smiled, heart fluttering slightly at the way Grace had referred to her as her partner. Glancing at the wine, her eyes widened imperceptibly as she caught that it was from 1865. Did wine last that long? This was one of the times she held her tongue, though, instead nodding in response to Grace’s question. “Sure, if Tuah does not mind.” Turning to Iann with a grin - she had a tiny taste of the mole when they’d made it, and it’d been wonderful - so she was excited to have more. “Sure, the kitchen is just down this way.” She refrained from the pet name for Iann for now - that would come later.

Iann It seemed like the vampires were getting along, well, vampirically. They were both old and both immediately fell back into those old patterns of respective propriety that seemed ingrained. Iann hadn't been raised with manners, so he was just watching them both, entranced by the polite interaction before Alia pointed him to the kitchen. "I know where it is, I sold Grace this house," Iann said, then added on a quick, "Babe," before he headed into the kitchen. Grace and Tuah followed, but Iann took that small moment to snatch Alia's arm and lean in closer to her. "Isn't this exciting! I didn't even know Tuah brought a wine. Grace seems to like it," he said, getting to the kitchen and poking around in the cupboards until he found a good corningware dish for the chicken. He laughed. "You know what's funny? 50% of this group are vampires, but we're eating people-food. I mean, if you guys wanted to drink blood, then by all means, I don't mind. I'm sure Alia doesn't either, hm?" Iann said, looking at Alia, unsure if she'd seen Grace feeding. He frowned curiously, then asked, "Say, does naga blood taste good for a vampire?"

Grace was doing her best not to silently seethe every time Iann called Alia 'babe'. It must have been one of those quirks of their friendship, she surmised. Just because she was too emotionally stunted to have those kinds of carefree friendships, didn't mean she should punish Alia for it. That was the rational truth, of course, but the emotions still bubbled under the surface. "Your boyfriend has excellent taste," Grace said with a smile as she poured them each a glass of wine. "It's not a problem. I eat human food all the time, partly from habit, for the taste, or simply to blend in and feel normal." She gave Alia a little sad smile before looking back to Iann. "Naga blood is toxic to vampires. It would be like a human drinking bleach. Which is a shame."

Alia had never felt so formal with Grace, and surprisingly, she was starting to feel a little uncomfortable at the stuffiness of it. She was glad for Iann, who didn’t seem to have a problem being himself - it helped put her a little more at ease. Leaning in as Iann did, she grinned at him. “Oh! You did?” She turned to Grace, raising an eyebrow. “I did not know Iann sold you your house. Is that how you met?” To Iann, she added, “Grace told me about your adventures in Los Angeles, babe. I must admit, I am a little jealous, but I am glad you were with her.” She shook her head - she didn’t mind, of course, if Grace and Tuah had blood instead, but Grace usually had meals with her too. “I could not tell you if it is a shame or not,” Alia replied. “But Tuah, if you would like some blood in your wine, just let me know. I make some special drinks for Grace, sometimes. Maybe it makes up for her not being able to drink from me.” She caught Grace’s eye, smiling back at her.

"Oh that's right! We got a bonafide bartender in the house, and -" Iann motioned to Tuah. "A barista for after dinner, we're all set for drinks for the night," Iann laughed, not noticing the stuffiness (or perhaps he did, but he was used to it. Formality was something he only understood as a 'someone else' thing). He squinted at Grace in thought. "We met...oh - randomly, looking at an art installation in the Crowne, which got Gracie here thinking about a place for her gallery and to rest her beautiful blonde head." Iann snapped his fingers and pointed at Grace. "I found her both. That was my best and favourite sale, really. It was all downhill from there, you spoiled me, Grace." Iann nodded at the wine. "I guess we can start with that..." It made sense about naga blood, but Iann had wanted to make sure. "I wonder what amrita does to a vampire?" he then said. "Anyway, I brought chicken mole, we don't have to eat it now, but it's good. Alia helped me make the mole. That's the sauce the chicken's in, it's a Mexican thing."

To everyone else, Tuah seemed perfectly calm and amendable at the current carefree situation between Alia and Iann, though he did seem a little strain as he watched them both. Both of his hands, now free from touching Iann and the wine, clasped tightly behind his back as he walked a few steps behind the mortal pairs. Tuah simply bowed his head at Grace’s compliment towards him, his mind still rattled at how easy Alia and Iann’s called each other with an affectionate pet names. Granted, he wasn’t one for pet names himself, and it wasn’t surprising to know that Iann had a pet name for pretty much everyone. But to call Alia ‘babe’ ou of all things? Was this a trend that he wasn’t aware of? Apparently. “If it’s not too troubling for you, then I’d love to have some bloodwine if you have some,” Tuah replied to Alia’s suggestion, “And yes, it’s as Iann’s said. I think we’re all set on the drinks for the night. I’ll be more than happy to whip something up to drink afterwards. Perhaps it’s one way to have you both come and visit my cafe one day, hm?”

Grace snaked an arm around Alia's shoulder. No pun intended. "She does make amazing drinks. That's how we met." She softly kissed Alia's cheek, handing her a glass of wine. "Iann and I met just before he showed me the house, didn't we? We just ran into each other when I first moved into town." Grace had never had chicken mole before, but she was glad someone else had made food. Grace could cook, but she wouldn't have said she was an expert at it. Most of the time she'd had staff to do that for her, or she'd eaten at restaurants. "Maybe we can have some of Alia's blood wine after your chicken. I have some fairy blood too, if that tickles your fancy." She didn't know anything about Tuah, probably because Iann had never even mentioned in. "You own a cafe? Which one?"

Alia glanced at Tuah with interest. Tacking on to Grace’s question, she added, “Perhaps I have been there without realizing it. I am addicted to coffee.” Her lips quirked upwards in amusement as Iann referred to Grace as ‘Gracie,’ glancing at Grace to gauge her reaction. “Ah, is [i]that[/i] why you decided to start the Stonefruit Inn instead of remaining a realtor, babe?” The more she started on with this ‘babe’ thing, the easier it got. Now it rolled off her tongue naturally - perhaps [i]too[/i] naturally. “Maybe if Grace bit me, my amrita would heal her,” she mused aloud thoughtfully, moving closer to Grace and leaning into the arm casually slung around her shoulders. More quietly, she added, “But let us not find out, okay?” She gestured to the appetizers on the kitchen island - some of it she had prepared, but most of it they had picked up from the store. “Please help yourselves. If you would like, I could even add some blood to your current wine - though perhaps that would ruin the taste of it. Do you have a favourite type of blood?”

"How can I beat house-hunting with Grace Villiers, babe?" Iann asked, and he could hear it himself how annoyingly obnoxious it sounded, and he couldn't help but erupt with a slight snicker as he beamed at Alia, their stupid little joke shared between them. Once the drink stuff was sorted out, Iann got to getting the chicken and rice all warmed up and some of the fixings needed a bit of prep. It wouldn't take long, and all kitchens were essentially the same; especially vampire kitchens, which tended to get less use than a mortal's kitchen. "Go, go on and sit down, I'll join you guys in a bit, I just need to get the food ready," Iann said, waving his hands to air-push the rest of them out. He caught Tuah though and gave him a squeeze of his arm. Public affection was still a novelty to Iann - but whatever Alia did intimately with Grace, he felt it was then permissible to do the same with Tuah. "They already love you," Iann praised Tuah, with a fond look at the vampire as if to say 'how could they not?' "Go on, I'll be there in five minutes. You're good at all that small-talk stuff, amor."

“Ah, I’ll have to decline on your fairy blood. I’m afraid I’m a little lightweight,” Tuah confessed, looking a little sheepish as he said it. “I have no idea if it’ll ruin the taste, to be quite honest. Usually I have bloodwines prepared by Erzebert’s. They’re quite the expert in preparing such concoction.” Tuah moved his shoulders mimicking a shrug. “But we can certainly try. There’s no harm in that, no?” He was interested if Alia would be able to produce a blood wine that would rival Erzebert’s. He then turned his attention towards Grace, answering her question, “Bean Me Up. It’s a small cafe at the corner street of The Crowne. You both should come and visit if you haven’t yet.” At that he beamed, showing how proud he was with his cafe. When they’re about to retire to the dining room, Tuah gave Iann a kiss on his cheek, smiling at the other’s words. “Well, I’ve been told I’m quite loveable, so I suppose it’s not that difficult to make them love me.” Tuah then wrapped his hand around Iann’s waist and pressed his cold lips against the corner of Iann’s neck. “Though I do feel a little jealous when you casually called Miss Oren by that pet name, kasih. You’ll have to make up to me for feeling this way afterwards, hm.” And gave Iann’s bum a gentle slap and winking at the man before making his way towards the couple. “So, tell me how you two met. Did you two immediate get together or?"

Grace swore if they called each other babe one more time... Nope. She wouldn't do it. She shook her head, picking up her wine and heading to the living room. "It's probably a good idea not to experiment with any biting, just to be safe." She gave a smile, squeezing Alia's hand. "Well, no fairy blood tonight. Erzebet's is wonderful. I suppose I just have a soft spot for my girlfriend's drinks." Grace led the group to the living room, leaving Iann to whatever it was that was going to keep him. "At least I'm not the only one with a little jealous streak," she snickered over her wine, giving Tuah a little grin. "Alia and I met during a silly spirit dance the mayor suggested we do in one of his little newsletters about the town barriers... then I invited her to my house warming party and things just grew from there." The few months they had been together really seemed to have flown by. She supposed that was what happened when you were happy. "Now, tell me all about Iann. The more embarrassing the better."

Alia followed Grace out of the kitchen at Iann’s encouragement, knowing her friend could handle himself well enough in the kitchen - even if it wasn’t his own. She brought out a small tray of the appetizers with her, setting it down on the dining table before taking a sip of her wine. Her brow furrowed slightly at the mention of Erzebet’s. “That is Bellamy’s place, right?” she asked. It made sense that a vampire’s establishment would make good blood wines, and Alia wondered if Bellamy made anything for nagas as well. She grinned, feeling very pleased indeed at Grace’s compliment, and planted a quick kiss on her cheek as a reward. “I will prepare you a glass after you are finished with this one,” she promised Tuah. “And you can decide if it is to your taste.” She made a face at Grace’s recollection of their meeting, nudging her gently. “Do not blame the mayor for this. If I recall correctly, you came over to me and practically made me dance with you.” The large grin on her face made it clear to anyone watching that Alia didn’t mind in the least, and she let out a laugh at Grace’s next words. “Yes, I would be very interested to hear your stories about Iann. How long have you two been together?”

The doppleganger had been in the house for a while, posing as someone else who the owner wouldn't question seeing, in case she did. But the doppleganger was sneaky and quiet and good at it too, even around vampires and their heightened senses. It watched as the dinner party happened, watched this 'babe' interaction and all the touching and it craved that as well. It watched as three left, and one remained. Iann blithely called out to Tuah, "It's just a joke!" as the vampire left, but he looked extremely pleased at Tuah's words, knowing he kind of got to Tuah. It was a strange delight.

Tuah was glad that he wasn’t the only one that felt the way he did, sharing a look with Grace as he took a sip of his wine. He nodded his head at Alia’s enquiry on Erzebet’s owner, feeling a little proud at his friend’s success as if it was his own. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the other’s story of their first meeting. “Ah, I remember that event. I was asked to dance with Miss Elena. I’m imagining that Miss Villiers managed to charm her way to your heart with her dance moves, hm?” He couldn’t help but tease the two of them. “Well, I don’t know if there is anything embarrassing that I could tell you that you don’t already know. He’s quite shameless in putting himself out there,” his words were never meant as an insult, in fact he even looked a tad fond at his lover’s antics. “We’ve only been together for less than a year. We’ve ah… been together since March, if I recalled correctly. It’s all very unexpected.” Had it only been less than a year? It felt longer than that to him. “He came to my cafe, drenched in sweat and sawdust because he was working on one of his projects. And he brought me flowers too. It’s very sweet of him.” He still didn’t know where the flower had come from, nor did he care. And he didn’t bother to elaborate what had happened prior to the meeting at the cafe, thinking it was too private to be discussed so casually like this.

Grace gave a shrug. "I don't believe I ever met the owner, but I did get a flyer about a Halloween party. I was simply busy that night." And this time, it was nice to know that Alia was the one with a bit of a jealous streak, even if it did relate to a rival bar. "Eight months then? I'm sure time flies for you just like it has for us." She was sure she could speak for Alia in this regard too. It seemed like only yesterday that they had met, and at the same time, it felt as if they had known each other forever.

The mention of an ‘Elena’ had Alia cocking her head to the side as she tried to remember who that was - the name certainly sounded familiar, but she hadn’t spoken to any Elenas lately. “Yes,” she agreed with a grin, squeezing Grace’s hand. “She is a good dancer, and very charming, too.” She smiled at the thought of Iann bringing Tuah flowers. “It sounds like Grace is not the only charmer here. We met in July—” Here she glanced at Grace, as though to double-check. “—and now here we are. So Tuah, what brought you to Soapberry?”

A weird mini-disaster happened in the kitchen (he opened the fridge, and something toppled out of the fridge and onto the floor for Iann to clean up, courtesy of the doppleganger) so the doppleganger had time to make its move. The lips it eagerly licked grew a moustache over it, and brown hair, and a flat, wiry build, hands flexing in anticipation of getting to be a part of the intimacy it had witnessed between the four. Quietly it sat down in the empty chair, looking around with a smile at the beautiful people. They were all so beautiful, really. "I can't resist," it spoke up in Iann's low gravelly voice, cutting Tuah off before he could speak. "You're all just so gorgeous, can I? Just?" It got up out of the seat, coming around to Grace and planting a kiss on her cheek. Like the one Grace had given Iann, but just a little more warm and urgent. It then moved to Alia, cradling her face in its callous-worn hands and leaned down, planting a kiss square on her mouth. "That's for you, babe. And this, mamor," it said, after, misprounouncing the Spanish term of endearment; but it didn't really matter because it almost climbed into Tuah's lap, giving the vampire one hella filthy kiss, with tongue and growls and all that naughty stuff. Pelling back, it wiped it's moustache in satisfaction. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" it exclaimed, before sauntering off towards the kitchen. Only about 20 seconds later, the real Iann emerged, hands wiping on a teatowel as he smiled at the others. "Food's pretty much ready, if you wanted to eat now or..."

Before Tuah had a chance to speak, he was interrupted by Iann’s voice from the kitchen, his brows furrowed slightly at the other’s odd words as the man took an empty seat next to him. “What is, kasih?” he tried to ask, but his words seemed swallowed as his jaw went slack at what transpired next. “What the- Iann!” Tuah got up as he tried to pull Iann away from Alia, anger and confusion melt together into one as he turned Iann to face him. He tried to restrain himself from lashing out in front of the other couple, wanting to still salvage the evening from Iann’s indecency. But before he could do anything, however, he was pushed back into his seat with Iann following suit, eyes wide as he was kissed fully on the lips. When Iann pulled away, his face was completely red and his gaze averted to the floor. Slowly his free hand reached for his lips, his mind still trying to process what had happened. He was still in a state of shock when Iann entered the room once again, seemingly unphased by the whole event. “I have to get some fresh air,” he announced to the room, looking forward as he pivoted out of the room, his hands curled into fists as he walked out.

Grace stood, agape, stepping forward like an overprotective boyfriend as Iann kissed Alia square on the lips. She didn't mind playful affection, she didn't mind platonic affection, and she had no real qualms about what was considered decent or not by most of the world, but Iann's behaviour was hugely inappropriate. "I beg your pardon?" she barked, putting a protective hand on Iann's shoulder. "What on earth are you doing?" She barely knew Tuah, but his shock and alarm were clear, so much so that he left the room. "Iann, I think there must be something in your wine that's gone to your bloody brain."

Alia didn’t think much of the fact that Iann had returned without the food - she simply assumed he was waiting on the last of it to warm up, and couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her when he pressed a kiss to Grace’s cheek. The kiss that was planted on her lips, however, was a complete surprise - despite their friendship and almost-marriage, they had never once done anything even remotely close to it - and her eyes widened comically - that hadn’t been part of their joke, or if it was, Iann had yet to clue her in on it. “Iann!” she yelped, scrambling off of her chair as Tuah pulled him away from her - and then Iann turned to him, and kissed him too: really kissed him. She stared at him as he sauntered off, watching Tuah storm off in the opposite direction. And when Iann returned like nothing had just happened, she stared at him, slinking closer to Grace and wrapping an arm around her in case Iann decided to try and kiss her again. “Iann, babe.” It sounded more stern and pointed than teasing this time. “Are you feeling all right?”

"I'm fine," Iann said with a puzzled shrug - then looked at Grace's dagger-stare and Tuah careening outside. "He doesn't need fresh air - you don't need fresh -!!" Iann called out to Tuah but of course he was already gone. He looked at Grace, the smile on his face unsure but clearly thinking there was some elaborate prank or game going on, maybe to get him and Alia back for the 'babe' joke. "What, what's going on, what'd I do? Did I do something? The babe thing is just a joke, Grace!" Iann tried a laugh, looking back to where Tuah had stormed off. "You...d'you think I should go after him?" Iann was honestly asking as he thumbed towards the door; this situation had no precedent, not recently anyway.

The doppelganger saw the other one leave, this Tuah they called him, and it followed suit, watching the way this Tuah moved and talked to himself. It felt Tuah’s anger, unbridled now that he was alone, and it adapted accordingly. So this Tuah is always angry. Isn’t angry bad? Yes, he should be more happy. Happy! Like that Iann guy. I’ll show them! So the doppelganger started to morph itself into Tuah’s physics, taking into account how Tuah looked liked. It tried to follow how Tuah had spoken earlier, but it didn’t have enough time to listen in. Shrugging it off, the doppelganger sauntered towards the room. “Hey babe!” He greeted Iann. It had forgotten what Tuah had called Iann, but it didn’t matter anyway. It then grabbed Iann’s by the face and planted another filthy kiss. He wrapped his hands around Iann’s shoulders and walked towards the other couple. “Sorry about storming out earlier. It’s cool now. Hey! We should totally call each other babe from now on. It sounds cool when they do it, y’know?” Meanwhile Tuah had slowed down his pace, unaware of what was happening inside the house as he lit up a cigarette.

"You're a bloody idiot and a buffoon," Grace answered, no qualms about her words any more. "Calling my girlfriend 'babe' all the time is one thing but how dare you kiss her without her consent?" Her arm was wrapped protectively around Grace's waist, and Alia hadn't left her side since the incident had occurred. Grace lightly rubbed her back, hoping to comfort her. "And you seem to have made Tuah very uncomfortable. He's--" On that note, Tuah came back inside, apparently not upset at all. She exhaled, rolling her eyes. "I'm not calling either of you 'babe'."

Alia blinked, opening her mouth to speak - but then Grace beat her to it, and she focused instead on the soothing circles her girlfriend was tracing against her back. And when Tuah returned, he was singing a completely different tune - smiling and being oddly cheerful. Alia narrowed her eyes slightly, wondering if he was trying to make up for his previous reaction. Still, she slid her wine onto the table; maybe there was something in it. “Will you call me ‘babe’?” she teased Grace, before turning back to Tuah and Iann. If Tuah wasn’t upset about it, then she wasn’t going to be, either - in all honesty, she had been more shocked than upset, even if the only person she actually wanted to kiss was Grace. “I can call you ‘babe’ too, Tuah. I would have done it much earlier if I had known that is what you wanted.”

Iann gave a blunt "Huh" to Grace's insults, not finding them hurtful just confusing. He understood people insulting him, he just wanted to know why - and her reason baffled Iann. "Kiss her? No, no, no I - we never kissed! Tell her Alia. We nearly got married but I promise there was no kissing, before, during or after. And I have no idea what Tuah's all twisted --" But then the man in question came back, and Alia's question to Grace was able to diffuse the situation - or so it seemed. Tuah's big broad smile looked unnatural on his usually reticent, shy face - the kiss was even more overwhelming. "Whoa, whoa whoa. Whoa. Tuah. Dude. I mean, darling," Iann looked scandalized, trying to wrap his head around how this seemingly innocuous 'babe' joke got so out of hand. "It was just a joke..." he said weakly, then pointed to the kitchen. "Maybe - ah - maybe we should all eat. This dinner party is taking a turn for the unexpected...actually maybe that's a good thing?" Iann asked no one, looking over at Tuah for something. Approval, support, that polite way he had of smoothing over situations, anything.

“Oh damn someone’s a party pooper,” the doppelganger made a farted noise and its thumb facing downwards. “C’mon. It’s just a joke. I bet you kiss her all the time. She’s pretty nice looking for a-” it stopped there, not wanting to call them a fleshbag when it’s obvious that what they were. It was different of course, a shapeshifter was always different than your regular fleshbag. And shapeshifters were a fun bunch! Whatever. At least it had Iann with him. So warm! The doppelganger started to run his hand along Iann’s side and squeeze the other’s butt, giving it a gentle slap like what he had seen in the kitchen. “You look amazing, babe. Have I told you that before?” Tuah was making his way towards the house now that his nerves were somewhat settled, his half lit cigarette still between his lips as he made his way. Inside the house, the doppelganger cheered up when Alia agreed with its antics. “See! It’s not so hard, Yeah, totally call me babe, babe.” He laughed, sounding a little odd seeing that it had never heard Tuah laughed before, but whatever. “We’ll toast to that. I’ll get us more wine.” And it walked towards the kitchen rather cheerily, looking for the bottle of wine. By this time, Tuah had arrived at front of Grace’s porch, stubbing the butt of the cigarette in his pocket ashtray before entering the room back. He was somewhat still sombred, turning his attention towards the group as a whole while still not looking at any of them. “I apologise for storming out earlier,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Grace was starting to think she was missing out on some sort of joke all of them had planned in order to make her feel like an idiot, but this didn't seem like Alia's sense of humor, nor Iann's. Tuah, she didn't know well enough to decide either way. "I'm sure I call you babe, sometimes..." she whispered to Alia, squeezing her hand a little more firmly. "Are you alright?" She supposed she couldn't blame Alia for trying to make the best of an awkward situation, turning to Iann and shaking her head. "There's no use denying it. We all saw. You're lucky I don't snap your neck right now." She sniffed the wine. It hadn't had any effect on her. So why was everyone else acting so bizarre? "I think I'm going to get everyone some water." She looked at Iann sternly. "If you touch her again it will be the last thing you ever do." And with that, Grace downed the rest of her wine and left the room.

Alia could only continue staring at Iann as he denied kissing her - there must’ve been something in the wine. Everyone had seen it, and she could still feel the tickle of his moustache against the corners of her lips if she thought about it for too long. She stiffened slightly when Tuah talked about her—“For a what?” she said, almost challengingly - had Tuah really been about to say ‘for a naga’? But then Grace was threatening to snap Iann’s neck, and that seemed more pressing, so she placed a placating hand on the small of her back. “Please do not kill my friend,” she said, even if she felt strangely pleased at Grace’s protectiveness. “I am okay. Thank you.” And when Grace left and Tuah returned - without the wine he had said he would bring - Alia frowned slightly, feeling as though she was missing something here. “You were unable to find the wine, Tuah?” Perhaps it was best that Grace was getting them all water.

Iann stared in disbelief at Tuah's...for lack of a better words...antics. That was the word that Tuah often used to describe Iann's behavior, wasn't it? His chest tightened slightly as he wondered if Tuah was acting this way to make some sort of bizarre passive-aggressive point, to demonstrate that this was how Iann usually behaved in public: cruel, uncaring, mocking, a grotesque jokester. "Uh...no, that's fine," Iann said to Tuah, still trying to understand what the hell was happening. "No, no more 'babe', I get it. My bad, the joke fell flat, ha..ha." Iann fell quieter than usual, just staring dully at Grace as she made threats - threats that clearly seemed based in some reason, but a reason that Iann didn't understand. Tuah ignored Iann's beceeching look and swanned out, only to return looking more...well...Tuah-ish. All that sheepish neck-rubbing and apologies, jesus. Iann stared at him incredulously, knowing that for the sake of self-preservation the vampire put on different facades for different occasions. But this was just egregious and weird and fake. Disingenuous - something he'd never thought he'd see in Tuah Arjuna. And tonight of all nights, too. Iann clicked his tongue and waved it off. "Whatever man, you've made your point," Iann said, tone cool and flat as if he didn't care. Alia to the rescue once more, and Iann focused almost all of his attention on the naga and everything she did and said - trying to offer the agitated Grace some comfort (and Iann noticed that Alia didn't dispute Grace's allegations), asking Tuah things...Iann barely heard what she said but he just watched her actions, and he breathed, and felt calmer. Slowly he sat in one of the seats, forgetting about food entirely as he tried to puzzle out what on earth was going on.

Tuah looked up at Alia, looking confused at the question. “I wasn’t -” his furrowed brows deepened further, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before he pointed out where he had came, “Uh, I was taking a walk. I needed break after what had happened. I didn’t know I was supposed to bring the wine over.” He looked at Iann, silently asking him what had gotten into his lover’s right mind to act the way he did. But all he received was a flippant remark about a remark he apparently made. Whatever it was clearly made Iann upset, coming to a conclusion that either Grace or Alia had remarked upon how upset he was earlier on. Perhaps that was the point that Iann was referring to? Tuah took a seat next to Iann, reaching out for Iann’s arm and squeezing it gently. “I don’t mind much you calling Miss Oren pet names, kasih.” He paused, shaking his head a little before continued, “Alright, I mind a lot. But it’s only because of the so called prank that you’ve made towards one another. The almost marriage thing? It threw me off a little. Especially when you’ve only told me this tonight.” He figured he should start explaining himself first, reasoning his actions earlier, unaware of what the doppelganger had done in his absence. He then remembered what Grace had said upon his arrival, the threats that had been ensued towards his kasih. “You shouldn’t have kissed Miss Oren the way you did either, no matter what the inside joke that you have between the two of you. And uh, you shouldn’t kiss me like that in public. It’s a little inappropriate, kasih.” Even from you, he wanted to add, but refraining from doing so.

With Grace taking her time to get the water, the doppelganger decided to continue it's fun. The confused looks on all their faces were wonderful. They were about to devolve into all-out bickering. It slipped into Grace's shape, coming back into the room with a glass of water for itself and no-one else, a choice it deemed would cause even more hilarity than returning with no water at all. "Are we all having a good time?" It asked in Grace's voice. "Ah, yes, the marriage thing. We've been tip-toeing around that all night. First he tries to marry her, then he kisses her. Part of me wonders if there isn't something Iann has been meaning to tell us all about his infatuation with little Miss Alia, here." It shook its head, sipping the water. "You're out of luck, you know. Why would anyone date a boring old human when they can have a rich, experienced vampire who can show them the world and buy them anything they want?"

Now it was Tuah’s turn feeling protective over Iann. He shifted in his seat, focusing his attention towards Grace while his body almost shielding Iann from Grace’s view. “I understand your anger towards Iann, Miss Villiers, but there is no reason to address him in that manner.” Though he understood that Iann had a wide capacity of flippancy when it came to himself and brush off whatever threats or derogatory things thrown at him, that didn’t mean Tuah was alright with it. It was his kasih, after all.

Alia watched as Iann fell silent. He was usually jovial and inquisitive, so to see him like this was jarring - and it left her with a sense of unease. “Tuah,” she started slowly, though part of her wondered why she was trying to point anything out to anyone anymore - this evening was turning out to be more and more bizarre with each second that passed. “You just told us all to call you ‘babe’. It hardly seems fair if you mind that Iann calls me the same thing.” And when Grace returned, also not bringing the water she had promised, Alia hardly noticed - instead turning to her girlfriend, completely shocked at the words that were spilling out of her mouth. “Grace! What has gotten into you? Iann has said that it was a joke. I did not appreciate being kissed without any warning, but—” She stopped, Grace’s words only just now starting to sink in. It was so completely out of character for her, and yet… “Is that what you think of us? That I am with you because you can buy me anything I want?” She stared at her disbelievingly. “Because right now, I would much rather be dating a boring old human than someone who—who is acting the way you are.”

Iann listened to Tuah, still feeling confused but at least his confusion and prickly-sensibilities were cooled and calmed by Tuah's talking. It still didn't make sense, but at least he could concentrate on it not making sense, instead of the annoying inconvenience of feelings like 'hurt' and 'insecurity', so annoying. And Alia pointed out inconsistencies that seemed to match with Iann knowing he definitely did not kiss Alia tonight, if ever. "You did, Tuah. You came in here and kissed me, I didn't kiss you. Ay por dios this sounds like a telenovela..." And then Grace came in with her (single) glass of water and sling more insults. Which - this, at least. This, Iann felt far more comfortable with. Patting Tuah's knee, Iann stood up and a grin creased his face again. "I am infatuated, that's no lie, Alia's an infatuating person." He laughed then, nodding. "And you got me there bout being a boring old human..." But then Tuah stood to Iann's defense (which...okay Iann thought he'd be annoyed with but he found it kind of adorable) and then Alia got genuinely upset about the things Grace was implying about their new relationship. "Alia, c'mon, don't take it too hard. I think Grace is just pissed off and lashing out, I'm sure she doesn't mean it. The boring old human thing - that she meant. And that was funny," Iann said, looping his arm around Tuah's shoulder. "Because it's true. And Tuah, amor, seriously - you're the one who kissed me. You're saying I kissed you? Something weird is going on here..."

Tuah furrowed his brows together when Alia and Iann pointed out things that he hadn’t said or done. “I never said I want to be called ‘babe’.” It sounded odd as he said it, obviously the newer slang didn’t roll off his tongue as effortlessly as it had been between Alia and Iann. “And I didn’t -” He paused, narrowing his eyes as he turned his attention towards Iann. “Did I smell like a clove cigarette? You know, like the one I always smoke,” He asked, his hand squeezing Iann’s arm a little as he waited for the other’s confirmation. He blatantly ignored Iann’s confession of feeling infatuated with Alia for the moment, having more pressing matter at hand. He’d confront Iann about it later, at the privacy of their home.

Grace shrugged, the doppelganger sipping the water from her glass with an eye roll. "I think it helps. Who doesn't want a lover who can travel the world, keep them up all night, buy them beautiful jewels?" She finished the water, placing the empty glass on the table. "But if that's how you feel, if you'd rather be with Iann and his ridiculous moustache, then fine." She rose to her feet, leaving the room, the doppelganger slinking off to wait for the perfect opportunity to enter again.

"Grace does make a good point, Alia," Iann said, trying to keep the mood semi-light now. He frowned at Tuah's question, giving it thought. "No - you were just..." Iann leaned in and sniffed at Tuah. "You smell like the cigarettes now, but when you kissed me, you didn't taste like them. I like how it tastes," Iann added absently to Tuah. "This is all very strange though. We're doing things either we don't remember, or something else is happening. Magic?" Iann's eyes widened. "Maybe there's some sort of...reality blip going on?" Iann looked around the room, curious and intrigued now.

Iann seemed, surprisingly, quite all right with—whatever in the world was going on right now, but Alia wasn’t appeased. It didn’t excuse Grace’s behavior, though at this point, Alia wasn’t even sure her girlfriend wanted to be excused with the way she was talking. After what had recently transpired between Grace and Alia - the freakout about Alia’s tail and Grace’s subsequent apology. The fact that Grace would be so willing to let Alia go like that—it didn’t make sense, but Alia wasn’t thinking straight, either, and she looked at her girlfriend with what could only be described as incredulity. Iann tried to remedy the situation with his perpetual good mood, and she frowned at him. “Do not encourage her.” And when Grace left the room, she called after her, “Iann has a great moustache!” She shook her head. “I do not know what that means, a reality blip. But it is quite strange…” She frowned slightly. “I think it is my turn to need some air. Maybe the cold will bring me some inspiration.” And with that, she excused herself, leaving Tuah and Iann in the room.

"Thanks, by the way. Just thanks," Iann said to Tuah, when they had a moment alone. "I'm so hungry, and I'm so confused. But...this is still...fun? Right...?" Iann said, tucking against Tuah.

Grace - the real one this time - came back into the room after a few minutes trying to calm her temper over the kitchen sink. Once she had regained sufficient composure, she re-entered the room, placing four glasses of water on the table. "I think it's safe to say we've all had enough wine, hm? Let's just eat."

Iann stared at Grace and pointed at the abandoned single glass of water. "Grace, you were just here, you brought that. You told us that Alia's only with you for your money and my moustache is ridiculous. While we all know that only one of those statements are true...do you remember any of that even happening?" Iann motioned. "Alia went for a walk, she's kind of upset at you."

Tuah nodded absentmindedly, brows still furrowed together as he tried to make the connection. “Perhaps, or at least someone is trying to play a trick on us.” Tuah folded his arms together in front of his chest, his hand running along the scruffs on his jaw. “No wait. I -” he tried to stop Alia from exiting the room, before heaving a sigh as the naga ignored him. “I don’t think any of us should leave the room,” he finished lamely, scratching his head as he merely watched Alia leave. Tuah then turned towards Iann, smiling somewhat sombrely when Iann tried to salvage the situation as he always did. “Well, the evening certainly has an unexpected turns of event, of that I must admit.” He heaved a sigh. “We’ll… make it up somehow. Let’s get this situation sorted first, hm. You like a good mystery, don’t you? Well, what do we have so far?” Before he could continue, Tuah tilted his head slightly to the side when Grace entered, gaze looking towards the glasses filled with plain water. “MIss Villiers, if you don’t mind me asking,” Tuah turned towards Grace, “What was the last thing you remembered?”

Grace glanced at each of them, to Alia who seemed to be looking at her with disapproval, to Iann and Tuah who were thankfully calm in spite of the confusing nature of their night. "I was in the kitchen. I've only just come back." She searched their glances for some kind of falsehood and found nothing. "Something is going on here. I told you I was getting water. I left. I came back with water. There was nothing in between." She huffed, glancing at Iann. "But your moustache is slightly ridiculous."

To the doppelgänger, the fun was just getting started - it was all so easy, when one of them kept leaving the room! Mentally making a note to do the same in the future on a lazy day, it snickered to itself, blonde hair turning darker and its form shifting so that it was taller, until it became an almost-exact replica of one Alia Oren. When it re-entered the room, it beamed at the three suspicious faces, before remembering that the naga - fickle as they tended to be - had been unhappy when leaving the room, and so it rearranged its expression to one that was appropriately displeased. “I am still mad at you,” it told Grace, though exactly why, it couldn’t tell you. It just knew that it probably should be.

Iann eyed Alia suspiciously. "Alia..." Iann said, keeping a hold of Tuah's hand but coming closer to Alia to try and study her as if he could spot some physical anomaly. "Something is definitely going on here," Iann nodded at Grace. He'd already established the joke of his stache with his comment and Grace was just being redundant, so he bypassed that. "Where did you just go, Alia?"

Tuah nodded his head again, his mind quickly processing the new information. “So someone or something is imitating us whenever one of us leave the room,” he theorised, scratching his scruffs as he looked between Grace and Iann. When Alia entered once again, noting the minute change of expression on the naga’s face. Taking Iann’s proffered hand in his, he added onto Iann’s question, “And do you remember what Miss Villiers said to you that made you upset?”

"That's a pity..." Grace sighed, telling herself she wouldn't be sucked into this now. How did she know this was actually Alia? "I'm sorry, my love. I'm just a bit too blunt at times." They all seemed to be asking questions, but these things the shapeshifter could answer on its own, without any thought. As long as it had been close enough to overhear their conversation. "Never mind that," she said with a wave of her hand. "Darling. Tell me, can you remember the first gift I ever bought for you?"

Of course, the questions being posed to the doppelgänger weren’t difficult for it to answer - it had just been in the same room, after all, just as a different person. “Something about him being a human,” it said flippantly in response to Tuah, pointing to Iann and moving right along. At Grace’s question, it arched an unimpressed eyebrow. “Does it matter? Do you even know what you bought for me, [i]babe[/i]?”

It was then, of course, that Alia herself returned, the main door slamming shut behind her to announce her arrival. As per usual, her gaze found Grace’s first, and she spoke, “Look. I do not know what has gotten into you, but this has been a very strange evening, and—” She stopped abruptly when she realized that standing right next to Grace was—well, was herself, only she was here, standing across from Grace.

“What is going on?” Both she and the doppelgänger said simultaneously.

"Whoa - OH WOW!" Iann's hands shot into his hair, holding his head as he took a couple steps back. He wanted to do it. He felt he had to do it, because when else would he ever get a chance to say this again? Maybe if he encountered twins or something, but this was even better because this night was already nuts and he knew Alia didn't actually have a twin. So Iann did it: he did the thing like the movies where he pointed at the Alia and said, "One Alia....TWO Alia's...what? How? This! A shapeshifter came to dinner!!" And then here it came, here was the kicker: "But...which one's the real Alia?!"

"You think I don't remember?" Grace asked, arching an eyebrow, her reactions subtle and almost clinical. This made sense now, and she suddenly felt foolish for being angry at Iann and Tuah. "It's hanging above your bed." She stood from the table, eyes narrowing. "Who are you?" When the real Alia entered the room, Grace felt the need to step between her and this creature, shielding Alia with her arm. "This is the thing responsible for our bizarre evening."

Tuah widened his eyes when he saw two Alias in the same room. So he was right; someone was playing a trick on them! But he couldn’t tell which was the true Alia, seeing that he didn’t know her that well. He was glad at Iann’s outburst, causing him to snap out from his trance and shake his earlier surprise. “Are you sure that’s her?” He asked when he saw Grace stepping between the two Alias, defending who she thought was the real one. “Not to question your judgment, Miss Villiers, but we’ve had quite an odd evening, after all.” If Grace was right on her account of who the real Alia was, then they’d have to think of the next step; what to do with this doppelganger.

"Sniff her," Iann said with a grin, wanting to see that happen. "Vampires and their lil sensitive noses..." Iann pinched Tuah's nose.

Of course Grace was sure. She would know Alia anywhere. "She couldn't answer the question," Grace said, nodding her head towards the impersonator. She furrowed her brow at Iann's instruction. "There's something else that's sensitive," she said, eyes never leaving the doppelganger. "Hearing." She reached behind her to squeeze Alia's hand. "I would know her heartbeat anywhere."

Alia felt a surge of—[i]something[/i] when she saw Grace standing there with someone who looked like her. Had this person tried to kiss Grace too, like Iann had kissed her? Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall together, and a wave of relief rushed over her when Grace immediately came to her side without prompting. She reached out for her, tangling their fingers together in lieu of something more intimate, like wrapping herself around Grace. And if they weren’t with Iann and Tuah, Alia was quite sure she would have drawn Grace in and kissed her for everything she was saying. “You recognize my heartbeat?” she asked, surprised - she had never thought of something like this - something that probably came naturally to vampires like Grace and Tuah.

The doppelgänger, by now, knew that it would’ve taken a miracle to salvage the situation - but it had had its fun, and was happy to move on to the next unsuspecting dinner party. “That was fun while it lasted,” it told the four of them, its deep voice contrasting with the light giggle that escaped its lips - lips that were still very much Alia’s. “It’s too bad you figured it out so quickly. The fun we could’ve had together!” It lamented aloud, sighing. “Well, have a wonderful evening, folks - perhaps we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

Grace kept her eyes on the creature, nostrils flared. Alia's hand was in hers, squeezing her fingers. Grace took this to mean she wasn't angry at whatever the doppelganger had done while pretending to be Grace. She bathed herself in the flood of relief, but the anger still remained. "I hear it in the dark every night. Of course I know it," she breathed, then; "I can still go and get a weapon and stab this thing to death, if anyone would like."

"No, no no it must be one of the loose creatures! Let's capture it - alive and well - and then let's have dinner." Iann said, his eyes shining as he rushed to the door, and shut it before the thing could escape. "We can just tie it up and keep it in the room, me and Tuah will take it when we leave!"

Grace scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Of all the things I expected at dinner, bondage wasn't one of them."

Tuah scrounged up his nose when it was pinched, looking at Iann incredulously at the man’s suggestion. He was about to comment on it when Grace replied, and he couldn’t help but smile at the other’s declaration. “Well then,” he cleared his throat trying to get into a more serious character, but apparently he didn’t have to seeing that the doppelganger outed itself to them. He narrowed his eyes and moved to its side with a polite smile on his lips. “I think that’s unnecessary, Miss Villiers. It’s merely playing harmless pranks on us. It had its fun, so it shouldn’t bothered us anymore, yes?” Tuah grabbed the doppelganger by the arm and squeezed it a little harder than he would’ve normally did. “If you could be so kind as to change back to your own skin, hm?” He joined Grace in rolling his eyes, shaking his head at Iann’s enthusiasm. “And where do you think we should keep it at our house, kasih? I certainly don’t want it in our basement.”

"Sure makes for a memorable night though," Iann said with a grin and a wink, happy to let the two vampires take it captive as he kept talking, trying to figure things out. "So it kissed you guys! And it kissed me too, eugh. And - well honestly when it imitated you Grace, it wasn't too far off when it came to the insults. Not what it said to Alia, though." The doppleganger sighed and transformed into something that was just faceless, formless...a humanoid, but not really. "Oh my god, no change into one of us!" Iann said to it, because it was kind of unnerving in its original skin. It chose Tuah, and Iann seemed satisfied. "No, we have to return it. But I want to study it first, I have a workshop at the Inn. Don't worry, I won't hurt you..." Iann assured the thing, as if he totally meant it. "Okay - ah - let's eat please. I'm fucking starving!"

“I could not really believe it was you saying those things, though I was a bit upset,” Alia added, squeezing Grace’s fingers once again. When it transformed into Tuah, she raised an eyebrow, happy to observe it behind Grace’s protective form. “Return it to where?” she echoed, frowning as she regarded the creature - even as it (politely, she thought) declined Iann’s offer to study it. “I do not think Grace has anywhere to hold this creature.” She paused. “Do you?”

Grace continued to hold Grace's hand, sneering. "There was a dungeon for blood dolls in the basement, but..." She groaned. "Not my blood dolls," she added to clarify. "The old owner."

Iann clicked his tongue when it changed back into its faceless form again, this time impatiently. "Just tie it up and gag its mouth and keep it here, so we can keep an eye on it," Iann said, folding his arms. "We do have to return it to the creature wrangler, so me and Tuah will make sure to do that after dinner." But not until Iann spent some time with it first. "And we're not some game you can play, pal. You had your fun, now I'll have mine."

Tuah Seeing the doppelganger transformed into him was definitely unnerving to witness, seeing how easy it was for it to transform from a faceless humanoid self to … well, him. Tuah was obviously displeased with the choice, which gave it quite a satisfaction as it smiled smugly at him. He gave it another tight squeeze, silently asking it to transform back, which it did, though it was still unnerving to see. “We’re letting it go,” he said with finality. “You can study it another time, Iann. And I wouldn’t mind you roughing it up a little. But not tonight.” It served as a warning to the doppelganger rather than a consent for Iann to do as he pleased with it, and he pulled the doppelganger to his side as he walked towards the door.

Iann battled between making a study and eating - and unfortunately at this point of the evening (and because Iann had ate fairly light all day), bodily needs won over his mind's wants. "Fuck..." Iann grunted, then watched Tuah taking the creature away without trying to stop the vampire. "I wouldn't 'rough it up'!" Iann called out, looking scandalized. "I'm not a violent person."

Grace fixed her gaze upon Iann. This side of him was new to her. He had always been so unassuming, so harmless. He was the sort of person who had a sense of humor about everything. This side of him was unnerving. "This is not a dissection lab, nor a prison. Nobody is in any real danger. We don't torment and study things over a harmless prank. Just..." she waved a hand. "Do what Tuah said. Let it go."

Iann looked incredulously at Grace and her sudden grim tone. "You were going to kill it--! Oh wait - that...you were joking about that...? I thought you were being serious. Ahhhhh....ah ha ha...well." Iann grinned, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Why don't I just go, ah, get the food. And I promise when I return, there'll be absolutely no kissing."

Alia wondered what, exactly, Iann planned on doing with the doppelgänger - but it was something that was easy enough to wave off, given the circumstances: mainly, her growling stomach. Though the fact that Tuah and Grace seemed more alarmed than she was probably should have set off warning bells. Still, she grinned at Iann. “I will come help you get the food,” she said, pressing a kiss to Grace’s cheek before she joined Iann in the kitchen. Hopefully their evening would be much less eventful after this.

Grace sighed. "I was merely being dramatic, and I didn't know if it actually intended us harm, but it all seems like just a ridiculous prank, so let it go, and let's just... eat, and try to salve our evening, hm?"

“No, you’re not.,” Tuah called out, a smile on his lips as he looked back at Iann as he walked, before turning. “He really wasn’t going to hurt me?” It asked, curiosity coloured its strangely modulated voice. It sounded like a broken voice box, and it grated his sensitive hearing a little. “Well, he’s not a violent person,” Tuah spoke quietly, making sure his voice was only heard between the two of them, “but he’s a tendency to get ah, excited in his study that he forgets everything else. Including the subject of his study.” He opened the door and looked at the disfigured face, “So I’d suggest that you stay away from him if you know what’s good for you, hm. Now run along and never come back.” With that he pushed the doppelganger out of the door and shut it behind it, letting out a long held breath despite not needing to before turning around and face the group, hoping that the rest of the evening was less eventful than this.

[thecourtreportersportedjorts]

Top 10 Worst Hit Songs of 2017

In December of each year, Billboard publishes its list of the 100 biggest hit songs of the last 12 months. In response, I take it upon myself to decide which of these songs were the real hits, and which were the biggest misses. As always, I’m starting with the worst. Let’s get started:

10. “Do Re Mi” by Blackbear

If you’ve read my earlier lists, I’ve made it no secret that I’m a big fan of The Weeknd. I’ve been enjoying his relentlessly bleak brand of R&B for years, so I was more than ready to celebrate his ascent on the pop charts with multiple spots on my Best Hit Songs lists in 2015 and 2016. Apart from choosing “Can’t Feel My Face” over Taylor Swift’s incomparable “Style” as my favorite hit song of 2015, I stand by all of it. Unfortunately, any great, successful artist is bound to generate a wave of cut-rate imitators, and thus we now have to deal with blackbear.

When blackbear first appeared on the Billboard Hot 100 last spring, I probably had the same reaction as anyone previously uninitiated: who the hell is this? Prior to this year, the rising R&B singer-songwriter had written and produced for such personality vacuums as G-Eazy and Machine Gun Kelly. He also co-wrote “Boyfriend,” one of Justin Bieber’s biggest and most embarrassing singles to date. If any of that suggests that his breakout single “Do Re Mi” would be a noxious whinge replete with countless fuckboy-isms, you’d only wish it were that good.

Blackbear unfortunately goes the extra mile, topping off his insufferable whining at his “crazy” ex with a failed attempt at wit. “Do, re, mi, fa, so fuckin’ done with you,” the chorus taunts, which becomes awkward when you notice that he’s singing up a minor scale, and the minor solfege progression is do, re, ME, FE, etc. All this is accompanied by a perfunctory Gucci Mane feature and a chord progression that’s eerily similar to The Weeknd’s “Wicked Games,” which is where my issues with the song clicked: when Abel made songs like this, he at least had the good sense not to cast himself in the moral high ground or center his hooks around laughable wordplay. And I thought Bryson Tiller was bad.

9. “Believer” by Imagine Dragons

I’ve been writing these lists for five years now, and while I wouldn’t say that my music taste has changed dramatically since then, it’s certainly expanded enough that I could rewrite my Best Hit Songs lists from 4 or 5 years ago and include songs that weren’t even on my radar before. With that said, doing this for such a long time leads you to wonder if you were ever too quick to heap praise onto something that ultimately didn’t deserve it. And while I wouldn’t say I suddenly dislike any of the songs Imagine Dragons landed on my previous lists, I can no longer call myself a fan when they keep churning out crap like this.

I first mentioned Imagine Dragons in 2012, when I saw them as an innovative new force in rock music, alongside the likes of Gotye and fun. While Gotye still hasn’t followed up his album Making Mirrors, and fun. guitarist Jack Antonoff has made even better music with his Bleachers project, Imagine Dragons doubled down on their stadium-ready sound to diminishing returns. After the sophomore slump Smoke + Mirrors failed to produce major hits, they somehow managed to notch one of their biggest successes yet with “Believer,” a dreary, un-catchy slog of a song.

There are a lot of things that I find deeply annoying about “Believer,” like singer Dan Reynolds audibly straining his vocals on a flat hook, the utterly dour and depressing music backing what should be an uplifting (if not esoteric) set of lyrics, or the “first things first” lyrical structure that gives me Iggy Azalea flashbacks. But my biggest problem with Imagine Dragons in 2017 is that their songs seem entirely calculated to fit into trailers and commercials, and I’ve heard “Believer” in these spaces far more than anything more organic. I don’t believe that rock is inherently more valuable or authentic than pop, rap, etc., but it has no chance of being so if this is the way “rock” is represented in the mainstream.

8. “Tunnel Vision” by Kodak Black

If there is a theme to my lists this year, it’s that content doesn’t exist without context. 2017 has seen countless powerful men rightfully fall from grace as allegations of sexual assault and harassment continue to come out of the woodwork. As somebody who loves to share music, this puts me in an interesting position. Was I right to top my Best Hit Songs of 2014 with “Do What U Want,” Lady Gaga’s infamous collaboration with R. Kelly? Can I, in good conscience, still call Brand New’s Science Fiction one of the best albums on the year? Despite my own investment in this music, I have to second guess whether or not I can actively recommend any of it when such information is readily available. These are tough questions, but at least I don’t have to ask them here since I never liked Kodak Black in the first place.

Horrific legal charges aside, I never understood the appeal of Kodak’s music. Sure, he may choose solid beats once in a while, and he may speak on the gritty realities of the street life, but so many other rappers have done so by using a more intelligible and far less grating voice. So many other rappers have done so without resorting to tired, juvenile punchlines like “That money make me cum, it make me fornicate / I’m the shit, I need some toilet paper.” And so many other rappers at least know that “winning” doesn’t rhyme with “penitentiary.”

Even if you somehow liked this song and wanted badly to separate the art from the artist, you can’t really do that in this case. The edited line “I get any girl I want, any girl I want” originally ended with “I don’t gotta rape,” which is eventually followed by “I need a bitch who gon’ cooperate.” YIKES. The only reason this song is so low on this list is because the beat, provided by the ubiquitous Metro Boomin, deserves so much better. Metro, please stick to working with Future and Migos and stay away from this little shit.

7. “Bad Things” by Machine Gun Kelly feat. Camila Cabello

Overall, I considered 2016 to be a pretty weak year for the pop charts. It’s not that everything was terrible that year, but I remember struggling to put together both of these lists because I was so indifferent to most of the hits. Still, one of the most damning trends to dominate the year was the rise of mediocre white rappers. Both Gnash and Post Malone ranked high on my Worst list, and I probably should have included G-Eazy’s tedious “Me, Myself & I” as a dishonorable mention. This trend hasn’t entirely disappeared, as Malone had a surprisingly successful 2017, but it really should have ended with Machine Gun Kelly.

The first of the many bad things about “Bad Things” is the generous sample of Fastball’s 1999 hit song “Out of My Head.” I already have reservations about songs with such recognizable samples - even in songs like “Anaconda” that I otherwise like - and this is no exception, since the sample doesn’t really add any personality or texture to the song. The chorus just gets witlessly rewritten and clumsily regurgitated by Camila Cabello, who only sounds slightly less like a goat than she did on “Work From Home.” Of course, the song also borrows Fastball’s chord progression, which sounds like ass when paired with this Marshmello-lite production.

Even worse is MGK, who’s trying his damnedest to sound like the personification of white alpha male posturing. The only time his delivery suits the track is when he attempts to add a melody in the pre-chorus, and even then it results in serious tonal whiplash. There’s also a baffling R.E.M. reference in his second verse, as if desecrating one 90’s alternative rock band wasn’t enough. I would call the title of the song truth in advertising, but it’s more of an understatement.

6. “Swang” by Rae Sremmurd

I first discussed Rae Sremmurd in 2015 when “No Type” made the #9 spot on my Worst list. And while I still stand by the song’s inclusion, I don’t have much against these guys. Sure, SremmLife had more misses than hits - including the milk-aged, deeply regrettable “Up Like Trump” - but I can take solace in that they earned their biggest success with “Black Beatles,” their best song. On top of that, collaborations with French Montana and Jhene Aiko could position Swae Lee as a breakout solo star with a charismatic (if amateurish) vocal presence.

It’s for that exact reason why “Swang” is such a failure. Critics have routinely praised the duo for their infectious energy, but for the duration of the song, very little of that energy really translates. The production from P-Nazty trades the thunderous, off-kilter synths that made “Black Beatles” so invigorating for something much more warbly, cheap and lifeless. Swae Lee spends the majority of his time droning on words like Alaska Thunderfuck on quaaludes, and by the time Slim Jxmmi attempts to liven things up, it’s too little too late.

“Swang” isn’t an entirely sleepy affair, however. The track has one truly memorable trick up its sleeve - and that’s when Swae leaps into his falsetto during the hook. And it sounds hideous. It’s not quite as ear-splittingly awful as the drop on “Starving” last year, but it doesn’t even have that song’s sense of momentum. It almost sounds like the shower scene from Psycho, only without any real buildup leading to the aural carnage.

5. “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran

Overplay doesn’t tend to factor into my selections for these lists, a fact which is evident when you see that my Best list for 2015 included songs like “Hello” and “Shut Up and Dance.” This is because I don’t listen to the radio or randomized pop playlists very frequently. I’ll seek out the most popular songs once, and whether or not I keep hearing the song usually depends on how much I like it. That said, sometimes a song becomes inescapable, and the more you hear it, you notice more and more problems with it.

This takes us conveniently to “Shape of You,” Ed Sheeran’s first ever #1 single on the Hot 100. Admittedly, I thought this song was decent at first, and so I’d listen to it once in a while when I needed to scratch the itch. But when I decided I was done with it after a few weeks, I started hearing it pretty much everywhere, and then it clicked: this song is incredibly stupid.

First of all, Ed Sheeran is somewhere among the final few names on my hypothetical list of people I want to hear making songs about sex. “Shape of You” is certainly more competent than I’d imagine a sex song would be coming from Danny DeVito, but it’s also weirdly lacking in personality, which makes sense since he didn’t write this with himself in mind. Like “Cheap Thrills” last year, “Shape of You” was originally intended for Rihanna, who’s probably getting annoyed by all these white songwriters trying to pitch her such watered-down, vaguely Caribbean sounding pop tunes.

Of course, I could just be wishing that the song lacked personality, because Ed can’t resist using his same Sheeranisms that have soiled so many of his stabs at pop. In addition to an out-of-place Van Morrison shoutout (which he couldn’t even confine to one song), the song has a host of clumsy, overwritten lyrics. “Your love was handmade for somebody like me.” “We talk for hours and hours about the sweet and the sour.” That whole chorus. “Shape of You” scans as an OkCupid message from a dude with no social skills. Now imagine getting that same message about 500 more times, and you’ve got one of the most overplayed trainwrecks in recent memory.

4. “Don’t Wanna Know” by Maroon 5 feat. Kendrick Lamar / “Cold” by Maroon 5 feat. Future

For this entry on the list, I’ll be doing something different - I’m giving it to two songs. Sure, this is occasionally done as an excuse to avoid making a concrete decision, but there’s a genuine reason this time. The songs in question are “Don’t Wanna Know” and “Cold,” both by rock band-turned-space-wasters Maroon 5. These two songs are essentially minor variations on each other, and all the more evidence that Adam Levine and his producers band need to go away.

“Don’t Wanna Know” was released late last year, while the charts were still saturated with so much half-assed tropical house. The lyrics feature Levine at his most petulant and unlikeable, harping on an ex so much that the characteristically repetitive chorus just sounds more like a failed defense mechanism. As awful as all this is, it’s nothing compared to the fact that these guys managed to rope in Kendrick Lamar - arguably one of the most important and talented artists of this decade - and make him suck. It’s a brief 8-bar verse, and yet half of the bars feature words rhyming with each other. There’s one thing I do wanna know after hearing this dreck - what Kendrick’s paycheck looked like.

Oh-so-cleverly released on Valentine’s Day this year, “Cold” effectively treads the same water as the other song. It’s more turgid tropical bullshit, only at a slighter quicker tempo. The lyrics are even more bitter, bordering on misogynistic at points. Another A-list rapper features, but this time, it’s Future, and while his verse is pretty average by his own standards, he sounds incredibly uncomfortable over this beat. Nothing about this song disappoints me as much Kendrick’s verse on “Don’t Wanna Know,” but it might be slightly worse by virtue of being more of the same.

Both of these songs were released well before their cluelessly titled album Red Pill Blues was even announced, and they were formally left off the standard track listing. Still, because of their chart success, they were included on the deluxe edition of the album, if only to represent the death of tropical house as a viable trend and an enjoyable sound in pop. And, of course, the death of Maroon 5 as anything resembling an actual band.

3. “JuJu on that Beat (TZ Anthem)” by Zay Hilfigerrr and Zayion McCall

Since Billboard first put a greater emphasis on streaming in their calculations, it’s been interesting to see how songs perform on the charts. As a whole, album tracks chart longer than ever, and the last two years have seen such unexpected chart-toppers like “Panda” and “Bodak Yellow” thanks to the popularity of hip-hop on streaming services. Unfortunately, this also means that songs are also more likely to become genuine hits off of viral novelty than quality. It happened with the execrable “Watch Me” in 2015, and it nearly two years later, it happened with “Juju on That Beat.”

In retrospect, I may have been a little too hard on “Watch Me” when I named it the second worst song of 2015. I mean, we were still in the middle of Meghan Trainor’s window of relevance when it came out, and 2017 has seen rappers draw even more attention to their distinctive ad-libs. “Watch Me,” while still pretty grating, seems quaint and harmless now. The same can’t be said about “Juju on That Beat,” which is just as annoying and insulting to the intelligence as it was a year ago.

Let’s start with “That Beat,” which is lifted wholesale from Crime Mob’s crunk staple “Knuck If You Buck.” Forget what I said about the “Out of My Head” sample in “Bad Things,” this is particularly lazy. While rappers have used pre-existing beats in the past, this is clearly a dance song. Aren’t dance songs were supposed to have a unique musical identity to make up for inconsequential lyrics? The only audible difference is that the beat is transposed to a higher key, which makes sense if it’s meant to suit aspiring one hit wonders Zay Hilfigerrr and Zayion McCall’s more youthful voices.

It’s too bad that their voices still don’t sound remotely good. Hilfigerrr (not that the name matters) is particularly irritating, his out-of-breath yelps cracking like his balls just dropped mid-recording. And while I may have critiqued “Watch Me” for lacking actual rap verses, maybe it was for the better, as the other guy attempts to freestyle, only rhyming the first two of his eight bars and dropping such gems as “if I compared me and you, there wouldn’t be no comparings.” The only good thing about this song is that it’s mercifully short, perhaps the shortest hit song of 2017 that wasn’t by XXXTentacion or Lil Pump. By comparison, “Watch Me” is a masterpiece in minimalism.

2. “Say You Won’t Let Go” by James Arthur

I’m pretty sure my decision to name “Treat You Better” the worst song of 2016 might have been strange for some. Sure, I’ve seen the song on several similar lists (including one that has it in the same position), but the general public actually seems to enjoy the song a lot. Maybe that has to do with the fact that the music is so blandly inoffensive that most people wouldn’t bat an eye at the content. But apart from the patronizing lyrics and the laughable singing, that was part of my problem. White-guy-with-acoustic-guitar songs tend to piss me off because they’re churned out by dudes with aspirations to Real Musicianship whose compositional skills are limited, so the lyrics tend to be transparent in their douchebaggery. And while very, very few things are as bad as “Treat You Better,” James Arthur’s “Say You Won’t Let Go” fits this mold to a T.

As with seemingly all music this year, some context is necessary. James Arthur won The X Factor in 2012 (which should tell you everything about this guy’s musical persona) before signing to Simon Cowell’s Syco Records imprint and eventually releasing songs in which he used homophobic and Islamophobic insults and compared himself to a terrorist. He left Syco in 2014, but two years later, he released Back from the Edge, an album whose title practically begs for sympathy for his lack of a filter. “Say You Won’t Let Go” was the immensely successful lead single, which somehow lasted on the Hot 100 for a full year.

Perhaps knowing all this before hearing the song colored my distaste for “Say You Won’t Let Go” from the jump, but I think this song is fucking terrible. Over acoustic strumming and an infinitely recycled chord progression, Arthur recounts when he first met the love of his life, including a deeply unflattering line where she vomits (again with that filter!). The rest of the song delves into the same territory that Ed Sheeran already exhausted with “Thinking Out Loud,” and the whole thing just scans as incredibly disingenuous coming from him. Hell, he even describes the song as “really calculated” in his annotations on Genius.

Truthfully, the content and the context are the least unpleasant things about this song. James Arthur nearly mumbles through the verses before bringing his voice up another octave for the chorus, which sounds like a drunken bro singing “You’re Beautiful” at Karaoke. A lot of people have praised his vocals, but I might just hate them even more than “Swang” because at least Swae Lee sounded like he was enjoying himself. James just sounds ready to throw up, which is probably karma at work after that lyric in the first verse (not to mention pretty much anything this guy has said that put him at the edge in the first place).

Before I unveil my pick for the worst hit song of 2017, here are eight dishonorable mentions:

“Chained to the Rhythm” by Katy Perry feat. Skip Marley: 2017 was not a good year for Katy Perry, whose self-awareness seems to be diminishing with each album cycle. “Chained to the Rhythm” was the ever-so-obviously co-written by Sia lead single, which boasts an extremely out-of-place guest verse from Bob Marley’s grandson and perhaps one of the clumsiest hooks of the entire year.

“Thunder” by Imagine Dragons: At least “Chained to the Rhythm” had an actual hook, not just chipmunked repetitions of a single word. Because it’s an Imagine Dragons song in 2017, it’s also padded out a with a trap beat, more vague nothings in the verses and grossly manipulated vocals in place of any actual instrumental tones.

“Mercy” by Shawn Mendes: It’s nowhere near as condescending and misogynistic as “Treat You Better,” but it’s every bit as whiny and overwrought, even sharing the same warbled vocals incessant drum beat. Really, it’s a damn shame he didn’t actually drown in the music video.

“Drowning” by A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie feat. Kodak Black: Speaking of drowning, isn’t a song with this title and these piano chords supposed to be about something more interesting than bragging about jewelry? Also, an accused rapist shows up to mumble and make awful jokes about farts. Let’s move on.

“Look at Me!” by XXXTentacion: Oh yeah, there was also this guy, who’s been accused of some extremely disturbing stuff (seriously, trigger warning). I can appreciate some more aggression in the beat and even X’s flow, but the distortion makes everything nearly incomprehensible, which is probably alright since the lyrics amount to little more than edgelord crap. Fuck this.

“Down” by Marian Hill: “Down” doesn’t really have any personality to speak of, driven almost entirely by a woman’s breathy voice, which later gets manipulated into a boilerplate trap beat. Seriously, what is it about this kind of pretentious “indie” pop wallpaper that attracts such an audience?

“Issues” by Julia Michaels: I’ve talked a lot of shit about Julia Michaels and her frequent collaborator Justin Tranter in the past, but “Issues” is actually a pretty compelling exploration of mental health and relationships, and Julia is a distinctive vocalist in her own right. Unfortunately, the song does have issues, and one of them is how bad it needs to pick up the goddamn pace.

“All Time Low” by Jon Bellion: Jon Bellion has a lot of potential as a songwriter and producer, but his vocals sound a lot like Adam Young with slightly more testosterone. The lyric about masturbation is questionable too, but I simply can’t hear that chorus without thinking of this video.

And now, for what I consider worst hit song of 2017:

1. “Body Like a Back Road” by Sam Hunt

Choosing between this and “Say You Won’t Let Go” for the bottom slot on my list was admittedly much harder than usual, but the decision ultimately came down to one thing. Sure, James Arthur’s song disgusts me on a very primal level, to a point where I can’t really listen to the chorus without wincing. But would the song really bother me that much if Arthur weren’t a total dick with a horrific voice? Probably not. Thus, I had to choose a song that was so unequivocally bad that literally nobody could make it work. I had to choose a song in which the awfulness was spelled out right in the title: “Body Like a Back Road.”

Before we open the can of worms that is this song, one thing needs to be addressed. Yes, this is a bro-country song. In 2017. I could maybe see the appeal if this were released in 2014, which was not only the saturation point for this embarrassing subgenre, but also for the DJ Mustard production style that this song clearly takes its influence from. But in 2017, country music has thankfully been working back towards a more organic sound, and DJ Mustard has been replaced by guys like Metro Boomin and Mike Will Made It as hip-hop’s guiding hand. From the word “go,” this song is dated and lame.

Of course, lame is a huge understatement for the lyrical content. You can infer a lot of things from the title alone, and it’s even worse than you might expect. Sam Hunt seems to dedicate this song to his fiancee, which is perhaps one of the most misconceived gifts imaginable. For fuck’s sake, Sam, you’re a country singer. It’s par the course that you’ve been on a back road before, you should know damn well that this comparison is insulting. As if that weren’t bad enough, he attempts to elaborate, waxing unpoetic about her “curves” (a word he draws out in a particularly grating manner) and how the two of them “go way back like Cadillac seats.” While the imagery is more consistent than Train’s abominable “Drive By,” it’s just as gross.

But really, the most egregious crime “Body Like a Back Road” commits is just flat-out sounding like ass. Hip-hop and country don’t exactly have a lot of aesthetic common ground to begin with, so when the rap producer this guy attempts to emulate is DJ Mustard, the whole track ends up sounding as cheap and awkward as his early abortions like “Rack City.” There’s also the weirdly lightweight live drums, not to mention whatever the hell is playing that melody in the intro and bridge. The whole song is so out of touch with the times that I’m convinced it wasn’t just a Montevallo demo. Sadly, it seems the bro-country trend never really went away, and maybe it still has legs to stand on (legs that, at some point, it’ll probably try to compare to the confederate flag or something). But last year proved that mainstream country can be so much better than this, so let’s just hope that this subgenre finally dies for real this time.

Thanks for reading my list, I should be uploading the Best Hit Songs of 2017 later this week!

[ninjagoat]

Kara, Lena, and Maintaining Professional Objectivity (season 3 edition)

[Warning: Questionably organised thoughts of essay length, all written before 3x05]

So, during the hiatus, I wrote this:

Yes, Snapper does insist on Kara’s objectivity, and he’s right to do so*, but it’s the Mon-El situation that allows Kara to accept it. And then a curious thing happens (and this is what’s going to get me in trouble):

Kara MAINTAINS her objectivity.

As a journalist, Lena is Kara’s subject; Lena is Kara’s source; Lena is, on occasion, Kara’s cause to champion; and, as a journalist, it’s important to maintain those kinds of relationships by, say, getting together for lunch every once in a while.

But, for the most part, that’s as far as Kara lets it go. Lena is never allowed into the rest of Kara’s personal life (some might argue ‘Why would she? The others don’t trust Lena!’ like inviting her to Game Night one time wouldn’t solve that problem), and never goes to Lena for support with her own problems (Lena isn’t even allowed to know Mon-El’s real name, never mind what he’s done).

The only time in their working relationship where Lena offers support beyond the established parameters is when Snapper won’t publish the alien kidnapping story, and Lena offers the VERY Luthoresque solution of, essentially, screw everyone and do what you want, in complete opposition to both journalistic ethics and the concept of El Mariayah; which results in both Kara losing her job AND Alex being trapped on the ship after Lillian is forced into early launch (a very Pacific Rim** beat right there).

And after Kara’s fired, and that professional objectivity doesn’t apply anymore, and Lena comes to Kara with a personal problem that isn’t related to Cadmus? Kara makes it about the job: investigating Jack, and violating Lena’s personal boundaries by crashing their dinner while pretending to offer her support (‘Creepy journalism’ indeed). And once it’s over; yes, Lena forgives her, and Kara tells Lena she’ll be there for her, but what else are either of them going to do? Lena’s grieving, she’s having an existential crisis, and Kara is her only means of emotional support.

I find this conflict between journalistic objectivity and genuine friendship interesting, and hope they explore it properly in Season 3, especially given the interview above: what happens when Kara’s need to do her job well requires her to, more or less, betray her friend?

What happens when it gets ‘leaked’ that Lena isn’t as pro-Supergirl as she likes to pretend? ('Did you know he was dating Kara Danvers’ is going to bite SOMEONE in the ass, right?)

What happens when those aliens detectors means aliens start being denied service, or are subject to personal attacks, and Kara prints Lena’s response RIGHT NEXT to the answers Lena gave a year before?

What happens when Kara decides that L-Corp is doing some shady shit, and needs investigating? What happens if Kara believes that the 'responsible’ party for that shady shit is a fall guy, and keeps investigating L-Corp after he’s revealed (because if Lena WANTED to get up to shady shit, the evidence trail would absolutely lead to someone else)?

And what happens when, after all of this, Lena discovers that her good friend Kara Danvers, who 'trusts’ Lena completely, has been LYING to her for over a year?

Compelling television, that’s what happens.

And then, in 3x01, out of what she would probably describe as necessity, Lena buys Catco; and, in 3x02, announces she’s going to be very hands-on.

And that changes everything.

The potential for objectivity is now gone.

The carefully established boundaries are now gone.

It’s a big mess - the kind that Kara doesn’t need during this time in her life, and doesn’t do well with regardless - and that’s fun.

First, let’s talk about Lena.

Last season, Lena couldn’t get the transmat portal working, and so Rhea gave a fairly arch speech, one which can be considered a metaphor for Lena’s main conflict: the choice between power and balance.

Lex chose power. Luthors always do. Lena, as demonstrated during the above metaphor, has the same instinct. But, as we all know, power corrupts. It’s a testament to Lena’s character that she hasn’t been corrupted already; although, that being said, she has always had less power than Lex, and the advantage of having watched his cautionary tale unfold right in front of her eyes.

And now, she’s bought Catco, to keep it out of the hands of Morgan Edge, who she knows will use it 'to attack [his] enemies, and promote [his] own agenda’.

She possesses that power now. What will stop her from wielding it? Not in a super-villain behold-the-mighty-electro-ray sort of way, but a just-this-once, just-a-little sort of way? What’s to prevent her from suggesting that one of her reporters obfuscate or exaggerate a story, just to bring Edge down a peg or two? And, of course, if she does it once, and there’s no consequence… what stops her from doing it again? Our faith in her? Perhaps.

You may ask what prevented Cat from doing the same thing, but Cat - despite her connections - was ALWAYS a journalist, first and foremost; Lena is an old-money industrialist, and is largely protected from such things as tangible consequences by a protective bubble of wealth, power and privilege. The only thing she really need worry about is being held publically accountable; and in this, Catco’s power also doubles as a shield. It’s the main press outlet in her home city; if she owns it, who will hold her accountable? And will she permit them too?

What happens when the blow-back from the alien detector starts (okay, this doesn’t seem to be likely, given the season so far…)? What happens when the kids poisoned by the lead device start popping up (and please, for the love of God, show-writers; MAKE IT ACTUALLY HAVE BEEN HER)?

Does she try to kill the story?

Bury it?

Render it vague enough that no one knows what’s really going on?

Or will she choose balance? Will she allow the facts about what she’s done and what the consequences are to become public knowledge, and thereby hinder the Great Luthor Comeback once again?

And how will she cope with that when it happens?

Then, there’s Kara; and there’s two aspects to how this affects her: there’s the job, and then there’s their friendship.

With regard to the job; as mentioned before, the objectivity Kara maintained throughout the past is now gone. Her ability to hold Lena accountable, should she feel it necessary, has been compromised.

What does she do if Lena asks her to be her voice in the press? What does she do if Lena asks her to be the one exaggerating or obfuscating the story? What if Lena asks her to drop a story that needs to be out there, or to cover a non-story because it’ll make Edge look bad? What if Kara agrees the first time, and then the second time it’s much worse?

What if Lena ORDERS Kara to do this?

What if James does, and Kara feels that it’s less to do with journalism than *other* things that might be going on with him (James’s need for validation and approval being his only consistent character flaw on the show)?

What kind of disagreements is she going to have with Snapper Carr over this (let’s face it, Snapper is NOT going to be happy about taking instruction from a monied interest to whom the press should be a burden, not a servant)? When will she take Lena’s side? When will she take Snapper’s?

If Lena doesn’t choose balance… will Kara force balance upon her, as an objective journalist *should*?

And then there’s their friendship.

In season two, Kara had complete control. Lena gets to see Kara when - and only when - Kara says it’s okay. At the start of 3x01, it’s even more imbalanced: Kara is shutting Lena out, and Lena knows it; their interactions now more perfunctory than ever.

Lena buying Catco swings the pendulum WAAAY in the other direction.

She’s ALWAYS there now. Kara can’t go and be Supergirl without getting questions (which Kara describes as 'new and horrible’ - note, not having to answer, but the questions themselves), and any deflection towards work - her previous go-to - will result in questions about work; which means she has to outright lie.

It’s okay for now, but Lena now knows enough to know that Kara keeps secrets, and she’s *good* at it. She knows that Kara lied about 'Mike’ really being Mon-El; she knows that Kara lies about how much Mon-El’s 'death’ affects her; and, as of 3x04, she knows that Kara lies about what happened to him. Easily.

This may inspire excitement from the 'Lena knows!’ crowd, but consider: Lena believes the Luthors are the most perceptive people in the world. She’s already proven - to herself, even, in 2x08 - that they are not (They are, however, the undisputed kings and queens of believing their own bullshit). But that’s not the same as being oblivious.

Add to this the new friendship with Sam; the fact that Alex & Maggie have been brought into the friendship group as well; the impending James/Lena relationship: Lena is now firmly - and I’m using this word very carefully - embedded into Kara’s life. The only important people in Kara’s life that Lena doesn’t frequently spend time with are Winn and J'onn: J'onn probably won’t be that much of a problem; but while Lena believes Alex to be FBI, she *knows* Winn is DEO, and any story that explains how Winn is part of this group will expose at least one part of The Secret (James? Alex? Kara?), which will eventually lead to the whole thing coming crashing down.

How long before Kara is exposed? How far does this go before Kara *gives up* trying to keep The Secret? What will push her to reveal herself? Will it be accidental? Coerced? Out of necessity? Or will it be voluntary, which, so far, has only happened with Winn?

And why is she still keeping it anyway, if she completely trusts her friend? How much of that trust is false? How much of it will Lena *consider* false when she learns the truth?

How much will keeping The Secret provoke a reaction that justifies keeping The Secret in the first place?

These are great questions to explore as a writer, and - as a viewer - great to watch get resolved. There was a lot of wheel-spinning in the second half of season two (Kreisberg himself has described it as 'table-setting’), but it was setting the table for this, and I’m excited to see where they take it.

One more thing, though (and thank you for scrolling this far);

Lena 'knows’ there was something between Mon-El and Supergirl, but since he’s gone, doesn’t seem to have brought it up with Kara (or indeed, Supergirl). And why would she? It would only cause her unnecessary pain.

So, what happens when he comes back?

[eisforeidolon]

Episode: Moriah

So the Carry On montage kicks in and it starts off actually making the season look interesting … until about halfway through it switches over to contrived nonsense focused on Perpetually-Clueless-Nougat and Inexplicably-Not-A-Vegetable.

I really feel like it's a clear illustration of why for me this season takes the cake with “The Worst” in big frosted letters across it.  I think twelve had some pretty good ideas, it was just that the execution left a lot to be desired as it shuffled to a vaguely unsatisfactory and perfunctory conclusion.  I can't remember if thirteen ever felt like it was properly doing anything other than treading water, which was boring but in a stolid sort of way.  This season?  Just took every halfway interesting idea it had and gleefully dropkicked them all off a steep cliff of stupid.

As for this episode in particular, it picks up where the last left off with Jack having broken out - and holy crap are the effects terrible.  Like, laughably whatthefuckweretheythinking terrible – it seriously looks like a low budget bad comic book movie regurgitated onto the screen.  Yikes.  

Not surprising at all that Dean is the one pushing to do the necessary thing and just get it done even if it hurts, while Sam says nothing but goes along and Castiel whines because he doesn't care if Jack is running around killing people indiscriminately.  It is kind of hilarious to me that Castiel thinks at this late date he can just stare down Dean and make him change his mind.  Even if Dean wasn't already pissed off at him, seriously?  IS there some kind of defect where angels/partial angels are literally incapable of learning?

I had forgotten about the whole truth spell spoiler, so I was confused for a bit whether or not Jack was actually hearing people's thoughts or, since there was such a theme to them with several people being rejected, was hallucinating again and projecting his fears onto others.  (It was giving me weird I'm Afraid of Americans vibes, tbh.)  Though I guess actually it could still go either way?

I'm not sure what the point of Jack's whole truth spell actually is, though?  Like the show is trying to build up tension to some kind of a climax – but wait!  Let's pause in the middle for an exaggerated humor break!  Again, this feels to me like the current writers have heard people say that the show is so good at juxtaposing humor and pathos and thinks that means they are – when it really refers to the show of yesteryear.  They simply don't have the subtlety for it to do anything but wreck any momentum that's building.  Not to mention that too often their “jokes” make no sense for the characters in their desperation for a cheap laugh.  What does lying have to do with that bizarre nonsense with the woman with the staplers?  Since when has Sam ever shown any affection for Elvis or Celine Dion?  Sigh.

I did like the scene between Dean and the receptionist.  I also did think it makes sense that Jack would go back to his mother's parents in trying to connect with someone who might not reject him - and they would have since realized what happened to their daughter. I actually think it does work well as a way to show Jack that he is just as guilty of telling lies, too.  

I am not impressed with the writers whipping out a complete ripoff of the Colt via Chuck except guess what?  Now it's also TEH MOST POWERFUL EVAR version of itself!  With a dumber name!  Yay.  If I was even hopeful enough to create a season fifteen wish list?  Not having every conflict come down to arbitrarily fluctuating powers or sudden ass-pulls of McGuffins to solve things would be right near the top under NO MORE FUCKING PELLEGRINO GODDAMN IT.

I still don't buy all this crap about how Jack is supposedly the Winchester’s child.  Both from the stupidity of acting like he’s an actual child and from how the execution has been so much tell, so little show.  Nor do I buy that Jack doesn't have feelings, as much as we've been subjected to him angsting all over the place the last two episodes.

I do otherwise like the conversation between Sam and Dean about what has to be done about Jack, though.  

Castiel happily tosses over the Winchesters without a second thought? I am shocked, shocked I say!  Okay, not shocked, but vindictively gleeful that what his bullshit ever fickle loyalties gets him is tossed the fuck aside by Jack.  That I fully support.

Same with Dean not choosing to shoot Jack in cold blood.  Jack just accepting that Dean intends to kill him and surrendering shows that despite how fucking weird his explanation of what happened was, Jack does regret and care about what he did.  Obviously Dean is still upset about Mary, but it was that Jack didn't seem to care and was killing others which was the real problem, not that Dean was looking for revenge.  Again, if everything hadn't been so contrived to get us here, I think this moment did really work.  

Only to be pretty much ruined for me by the Chuck reveal.  I don't like what it says about the entire thrust of the storyline of the first five seasons in regards to free will.  I don't like what it does to the character of Chuck in service of yet again just trying to scale up to TEH MOST POWERFUL EVAR antagonist, that is totally more powerful and more scary than the last!

In a less abstract way, I don't like how obviously contrived the reveal itself is here.  Okay, say it's true that Chuck has been playing them their entire lives.  For that to be true, he'd need to have actually been good at it before now.  A real master manipulator able to play a very long game – but this episode, he just suddenly becomes shitty and transparent about it for reasons?  Why appear and intentionally try to goad them, why not just make the gun appear where they or an ally will find it?  Why not further manipulate the Winchesters' beliefs about what Jack's doing with some decent frame jobs?  The Winchesters don't even get to catch him out in a lie or a manipulation, he just suddenly goes full on I'm A Villain, Ask Me How!  

What Dabb & Co. don't seem to get about twists – since they keep throwing them out willy-nilly seemingly every time they get bored?  Is that a genuinely good twist doesn't just blindside you out of nowhere.  It's unexpected, but after it happens, you can see exactly how it makes sense and all ties together.  The impact of the shock being juxtaposed against the realization that it does totally work is what it gives it that WHAM! of impact.  When it doesn't connect like that, it's just shock for the sake of shock.  Which is weaker to begin with, but then when you do that over and over again, where your twists connect to nothing and mean nothing and a great deal of the time actually contradict the world's established continuity?  Even the shock ultimately just becomes a disinterested WTF.

And of course, even putting all that aside, what this sets up for next season is just a repeat of all the things that didn't work with the Amara storyline.  Remember how she was totally going to destroy all creation, but, you know, there were basically no consequences anywhere further away than Sam & Dean could drive or in more than one place at once?  This is the lesson they never learned about setting your human protagonists against ludicrously overpowered entities - you can’t actually scale up enough and everything just comes off slightly silly.