#the note thing gets overblown but at least that's a Reason to be mad

[hesgomorrah]

atp i will straight up block people who villainize trapper for leaving like way to show how little you understand what the show is about

[enigma-absolute]

Fandom: -starts to decide rebelling against the crew and make a stand making merch-

Me: … I mean I get it, I see where you’re coming from, good luck to you on that, but is this only on tumblr or is the sentiment on other social media as well

[generallynerdy]

And what can I do with that but pour another glass (Qui-Gon Jinn & Quinlan Vos)

Summary: Qui-Gon didn’t quite expect for the night to end with Quinlan Vos sitting across the table from him, smiling like a predator at its unsuspecting prey. Apparently, it’s time for them to talk about the fact that Quinlan and Obi-Wan are certainly not in a relationship.

Warnings: Shovel Talks, Threats, Implied Do the Do, Alcohol Word Count: 1,200

Author’s Note: another fic I used a randomizer to get the character line up for. I got Qui-Gon and Quinlan and IMMEDIATELY knew what I was writing LMAO. I ship Obi-Wan with,,,everyone but the good thing about Quinlan is that Qui-Gon fits up into that timeline. Title is from Red Wine Spills by L. Ash Williams.

Read on AO3

*

    When Quinlan Vos knocked on his door, Qui-Gon Jinn knew he was in for a tiring night.

    Obi-Wan left for a study session with Bant, eyeing his friend and his Master curiously, but choosing not to ask questions. Well, ‘friend’ was probably inaccurate.

    Qui-Gon knows for certain that friend is inaccurate, staring at Quinlan, who sits across the table from him. He has a cup of tea, but he isn’t drinking it. Qui-Gon, meanwhile, is on his third cup and is certain he’ll need at least two more before this conversation is tolerable. Quinlan’s predatory smile says it all; he knows exactly what Qui-Gon is thinking and he knows that he’s already exhausted.

    Obi-Wan thinks he’s subtle, but he couldn’t be more wrong. He’s been sneaking off to see Quinlan during the night for weeks and not only is Qui-Gon aware, but Tholme is too, so much so that it’s a regular topic of conversation between the two friends.

    He should’ve known it was coming, really.

    The two boys are both teenagers now, teenagers with hormones and feelings. They’ve always been closer than the rest of their friends, so it’s a long time coming.

    That doesn’t change the fact that Qui-Gon needs something stronger than tea to deal with this conversation.

    “Master Jinn,” Quinlan finally says.

    His tone is sickly sweet, but his smile is all teeth, all vicious.

    It’s the sort of smile that says: “I know that you know I’m sleeping with your Padawan and if you have an issue with that, I’m going to have an issue with you. For the rest of forever.”

    Qui-Gon sighs. “Padawan Vos.”

    They sit in silence for a few more moments.

    “I’m calling your Master,” he says finally.

    The boy shrugs. “You can. We had this conversation last week. He threatened to give me the Talk again and told Obi-Wan that if he hurt me, I probably deserve it.”

    Qui-Gon doesn’t snort, but amusement lingers in his eyes. Tholme does love his Padawan, very much, but the boy is a menace and the best way to deal with him is with copious amounts of both alcohol and sarcasm.

    “And Tholme knows you’re here?”

    “He asked me to record it. I’m not, but that’s only because Obi-Wan would be mad about it.”

    Qui-Gon sighs. “Very well. Say what you need to.”

    Quinlan grins and leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Obi-Wan’s my boyfriend.”

    They stare at each other for a few more moments.

    “It’s not as if I didn’t know,” Qui-Gon mutters, finishing the last of his tea which leaves a bottomless hope in his heart for another cup, preferably with some kind of alcohol in it. “Anything else?”

    The boy thinks for a second, squinting. “Nope!” he finally declares, all cheer. “Your turn. Tell me how you’ll feed me to your latest stray if I make him cry.”

    Instead of doing that, Qui-Gon gets to his feet and goes around the table to Quinlan’s side, reaching for his abandoned cup. As he leans down-- he’s a giant, it’s not like he can help it-- he puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder and squeezes; it’s not enough to hurt, but it is enough to shock him. The Master thinks that he could do with remembering just how big he is, on occasion. Obi-Wan will probably huff at him for weeks after this, but oh well. He has to do it.

    Qui-Gon ducks down to meet Quinlan’s gaze, eyes dark and focused right at him. He knows that Quinlan picked up memories of that mug, memories of him and Obi-Wan, which he thinks is adding to this little show.

    “Quinlan Vos,” he says lowly, passive in a way that’s more threatening than any growl could ever be, “I am a firm believer in the will and power of the Force, but trust me when I say that if you so much as bruise Obi-Wan Kenobi...I will put the fear of god in you.”

    He lingers just long enough to watch Quinlan swallow roughly, then sweeps up the mug and moves to the kitchen.

    Fifteen seconds later, he finds himself smiling at the sound of rapid footsteps and a closing door.

    Well.

    At least he took it seriously.

    Later, when Obi-Wan storms in, Qui-Gon thankfully does have something a little stronger in his mug. He’s glad at least that his Padawan is too distressed to pay attention to it or the blinking of his wrist comm unit, which he quickly buries in the sleeve of his robe. 

    “Master, what did you do?” The boy asks, attempting to be demanding though it comes out more begging than anything. 

    (Obi-Wan has never been good at being defiant, something Qui-Gon is increasingly grateful for.)

    “What did I do?” Qui-Gon echoes, slipping into that false ‘venerated Master’ facade.

    The boy huffs. “Master! Quinlan was terrified!”

    He raises a doubtful eyebrow. “He told you that?”

    His amusement doubles when Obi-Wan’s expression falls and his cheeks go red. He shifts on his feet uneasily. “No,” he mumbles. “But I can tell!”

    They both knew very well that Quinlan Vos was hardly one to admit to fear unless in private, much less a fear of Qui-Gon Jinn. He would give a great big smile and wave you off, then be panicking two minutes later. Obi-Wan, however, was very good at reading his fellow Padawan, some days even better than Bant, who was a literal empath.

    “Padawan Vos and I simply had a conversation, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says finally. “If you really want to know what we talked about, you should ask him.”

    The Master-Padawan pair share considering looks.

    Qui-Gon isn’t going to give in, that he knows. Obi-Wan doesn’t need more reasons to be upset with him.

    Finally, Obi-Wan sighs and turns on his heel, storming to his room for the night.

    The moment he’s gone, Qui-Gon pulls his sleeve away from his wrist and presses a button on his comm to reveal a blue hologram of his first Padawan.

    Feemor is cackling, which dissolves into wheezing after a minute.

    “You’re a terrible brother-Padawan,” Qui-Gon remarks dryly, taking another sip of his not-tea.

    When Feemor finally catches his breath, he wipes away tears. “And you’re a terrible Master! You never did that to any of my boyfriends,” he snorts.

    He rolls his eyes. “You never dated Quinlan Vos.”

    “Fair enough.”

    Qui-Gon squints, already able to see his former Padawan’s cogs turning. He smiles. “I can hear you thinking from here, Feemor. What is it?”

    “I only wonder if Padawan Vos fully comprehended your threat.”

    He grins, vicious and gleeful. Feemor is just as looming a figure as Qui-Gon, if not monumentally more intimidating because of his complete access to the archives and ability to make a person disappear from the galaxy in less than 15 seconds. It would be nice to remind Quinlan that Qui-Gon is far from the only one in Obi-Wan’s lineage with a lightsaber and an overblown sense of justice.

    “Obi-Wan will be furious,” he says, as if that’s changing his decision at all.

    Feemor crosses his arms, a victorious smirk upon his face. “Well then, I’ll just have to make sure he isn’t around, won’t I?”

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Masterlist

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

I’m going to warn you all now. This one is going to get a bit angry at the end. Normally I would try and remain as professional as possible, but in this case, I don’t feel like I would be able to.

Batman & Robin is a film that has lived in infamy since its release in 1997. Upon release, it was critically reviled, and this hatred of the film continued long into the modern day, where it frequently tops “worst films of all time lists” to the point where it actually is listed on the Wikipedia page for “List of films considered the worst.” It was nominated for at least 11 Razzies but only won a single one, and it went on to be a frequent punching bag on the {REDACTED] Critic’s web show, where he would get irrationally angry at the mere mention of the Bat Credit Card. In contemporary reviews, Mick LaSalle of The San Francisco Chronicle stated “"George Clooney is the big zero of the film, and should go down in history as the George Lazenby of the series,” which is less of a criticism and more of a compliment, if I’m being totally honest.

Most of the stars would take a negative stance towards it as well, with legend stating that if you tell George Clooney that you saw the film in theaters, he will refund you for your ticket out of his own pocket. Chris O’Donnell likewise is not particularly fond of the film, stating "It just felt like everything got a little soft the second time. On Batman Forever, I felt like I was making a movie. The second time, I felt like I was making a kid's toy commercial." And, perhaps most depressingly, Joel Schumacher himself was apparently very apologetic for the film, though this may or may not have come about because of years and years of vitriol being directed at him for making this film.

In the wake of Mr. Schumacher’s passing, I decided to re-watch the film, as I am famously rather fond of it, and I am going to tell you all why the answer to the question “Is it really THAT bad?” is a loud, resounding, NO.

THE GOOD

There’s honestly quite a lot to like here, more than you might think. I think first and foremost what you need to understand going in is that this is a silly, cartoonish take on the Burton style, blending the silliness and camp of the West series with the drama and aesthetics of the Burton films, all while adding some over-the-top, colorful flair. John Glover, who appears in the film as a cartoonish mad scientist, even has gone on record as saying "Joel would sit on a crane with a megaphone and yell before each take, 'Remember, everyone, this is a cartoon'. It was hard to act because that kind of set the tone for the film”… the last sentence makes the statement very baffling, but at least even the actors were aware of what they were doing. If this doesn’t sound appealing, well, the opening is sure to warn you off, as it is a suiting up montage with various shots of the firm butts, large codpieces, and stiff batnipples of the Dynamic Duo. The movie is very upfront about what you’re in for.

On the subject of the infamous batnipples, Schumacher stated "I had no idea that putting nipples on the Batsuit and Robin suit were going to spark international headlines. The bodies of the suits come from Ancient Greek statues, which display perfect bodies. They are anatomically correct." It seems a very odd choice, but it’s pretty clear that he meant it as an amusing little design choice and nothing more. Of course, this hasn’t stopped everyone and their mother from spewing homophobic comments about how he was purposefully making the film gayer, even from star George Clooney, who has said that he played Batman as a gay man and was told by Schumacher Batman is gay. It’s so disgusting that people did and continue to do this, because honestly, the costumes are fine, and even if they are meant to be fanservice… so what? O’Donell and Clooney’s asses look nice, as does Alicia Silverstone’s when she dons a suit. The fact hers is just as form-fitting as the other two really shows that the whole idea Schumacher did it because he was gay is ridiculous; the man was very egalitarian about the fanservice in the movie.

Whatever else Clooney says, he does a pretty great job as Batman and Bruce Wayne. His speech at the end of the film where he talks to Mr. Freeze and reminds him that he is a good man and offers to help him is honestly one of the few moments in any Batman film where Batman actually feels like the one from the animated series, a man who fights crime but also wants to help the people he’s trying to stop. Clooney just has a very natural charisma that lends himself to playing a hero, and while there are a few awkward moments in the performance, he captures the fun and charm a more lighthearted Batman should. Michael Gough’s last turn as Alfred is also surprisingly poignant, and a lot of mileage is gotten out of his genuinely tearjerking subplot.

Of course, the very best part of the film is the villains. Uma Thurman is clearly having a ball as Poison Ivy, and she gets to have a ludicrous amount of costumes as well as numerous moments of fanservice. She also has the power to turn every man around her into a simp, which is absolutely amazing and leads to quite a few scenes of Batman and Robin slapping each other over her. But f course, there’s really no doubt that the best part of the film is Mr. Freeze. He’s a combination of the sillier Mr. Freeze from the West days and the more modern take of the character most are familiar with, the tragic anti-villain who wants to save his wife; such a character would take a talented man capable of comedy and drama in equal measure. And who better than Arnold Schwarzenegger? Joel Schumacher wanted a man who looked like he was chiseled from a glacier, and Arnold certainly fits that description. He spends the movie juggling some of the most corny puns you can imagine and a lot of truly powerful, understated drama, and it really does work. You honestly get the sense that Arnold really gets Mr. Freeze and what makes him a great character. Also, that suit he has is amazing.

As a final note: the Bat Credit Card is absolutely not stupid. Linkara has defended it in the past, giving reasons why and how it could actually work, but really, all that needs to be said is… is this any more ridiculous than Shark Repellent Bat Spray?

THE BAD

So don’t get the wrong idea here; this film is far from perfect. As is the case with any comedy, the humor can be hit or miss; not all of the puns land, not all of the jokes are great. You’re never going to get a perfect comedy no matter how hard you try, and this is no exception.

As for performances, I think O’Donnell’s Robin and Silverstone’s Batgirl are a bit wonky. O'Donnell has long been a source of derision for his whining, and while I think the hate is a bit overblown, he does spend a ludicrous amount of time in this film being snippy, miserable, and arrogant. I think he actually fights with Batman more than any of the villains! Still, his performance isn’t horrible, he just gets a bit too whiny at a few points.

Silverstone is a bit of a bigger problem, but she’s not quite as bad as even I remembered. She’s pretty much Batgirl in name only, since she’s related to Alfred in this, but she’s mostly okay. The issue really is that her arc in the film is relatively bland and feels a bit shoehorned, which comes to a head where she fights Poison Ivy in a designated catfight, obviously because they didn’t want Batman to punch a woman in the face I guess. There’s just one issue with that:

On the subject of Ivy, while she definitely does have plant powers here, they’re strangely underplayed. She rarely uses them even when it would probably be beneficial, instead relying on Bane to do most of the fighting for her. Ah, Bane… Bane is one of the few things about this film I can’t really muster up any sort of defense for. While his creation scene is rather cool, it doesn’t lead to much of interest, as this version of Bane is pretty much a mindless supersoldier lackey who serves Poison Ivy. Now, this was still relatively early in Bane’s existence, as he had only debuted in 1993 and was really most famous for his signature “breaking the Bat” move, but it still is baffling why, with that famous thing fresh in everyone’s minds, that they would just choose to go and basically make Bane into Evil Diet Captain America. Surely they could have either saved him for a sequel or utilized him in a way more befitting of the character? I think this Bane is kind of responsible for the negative perception of Bane as this big, dumb bruiser, something that works like The Dark Knight Rises and Arkham Origins have thankfully gone a long way to rectifying. Bane is at his best when he’s a cunning genius bruiser; here, he’s nothing but a glorified prop.

Is It Really THAT Bad?

The answer is no. No it isn’t. AT ALL.

I’ve always felt this film came out at the wrong time. It was towards the end of the 90s, during the Dark Age of Comics when everything was dark, gritty, and edgy. The world didn’t want a movie like this back then; they wanted stuff like Blade, who would come in shortly after this film and show us how to make that aesthetic work. I guess in terms of Batman they wanted something more like Dawn of Justice, which really speaks volumes to how awful the 90s were for superheroes. 

Look, I’m not trying to convince anyone this is the greatest Batman film ever. Even I don’t think that; Batman Returns, The Dark Knight, and Under the Red Hood are all much better films. But is this really the worst Batman film now that we have the deeply misogynistic and disgusting The Killing Joke and the relentlessly bleak and unpleasant Batman v Superman? Hell, it’s not even worse than Batman Forever! At least the Batman in this film has some kind of emotional range beyond “plank of wood!” And even calling it the worst sequel ever is just… so baffling. Again, this is definitely better than Batman Forever, lack of Jim Carrey notwithstanding. And can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that this is worse than any of the Terminator sequels after the second film? Worse than Iron Man 2 or Thor: The Dark World? The almost half dozen Alvin and the Chipmunk sequels? This is only the worst sequel or even a bad sequel if it is the only sequel you’ve ever seen in your life.

A lot of the hate for it from back in the day carries a strong undercurrent of homophobia. Much like the infamous backlash against disco, it’s seriously uncomfortable, and it definitely is cruel how accusatory people were towards Schumacher’s intentions for the suits of the heroes in the film. The fact that even the two main stars have gotten in on it is a bit disgusting, though O’Donnell questioning why there needed to be a codpiece is certainly less offensive than George Clooney saying he played Batman as a gay man for… whatever reason. Was he implying that Batman being gay made the movie worse? I’m not sure what he’s on about there. Even The New Batman Adventures made a cruel dig at the film; notice the sign and the effeminate-looking boy. You could only get homophobia this good in the 90s!

The hatred of this film is absolutely overblown. It’s so ridiculous. #70 on the bottom rated movies of IMDB? #1 on the 50 worst films of all time list from Empire? Doug Walker’s personal punching bag whenever he needs to talk about a bad sequel, to the point where he literally said no one wanted a comedic take on Batman in his worst sequels video? Come the fuck on.

Joel Schumacher may or may not have ended up hating this film, but he certainly was made to feel like shit for making it… and it is honest to god not that bad! But he was just absolutely eviscerated, to the point where this was a fucking headline when he died:

Literally fuck all of these people. Fuck io9 for their insensitive headline. Fuck Empire for rating this as the worst film ever. Fuck Doug Walker for his constant bashing and his shitty old “chimp out over the Bat Credit Card” gag. Double fuck Mick LaSalle for shitting on George Clooney’s performance while also trying to say George Lazenby’s Bond was bad. In fact, fuck George Clooney for his weird idea that playing Batman as gay is a bad thing (sorry George, but I can’t defend this). Fuck the Razzies. Yes, it was nominated, but I just feel it’s always a good time to say “Fuck the Razzies.”

I will never say you have to love or even like this film, but the sheer amount of vitriol and hatred for it is absolutely beyond me. At worst, this film is just a bit too goofy, and at best, it is a fun tribute to the campy days when Batman just couldn’t get rid of a bomb. I didn’t take off my score this time. I’m proud to say I gave this an 8/10, personally. If I’m being honest, a 6.6 – 6.9 is more appropriate, because it does have quite a few issues, but god, this film is not bad at all. It’s silly, goofy, campy, and fun… but bad? Not by any stretch of my imagination. And fuck the critics for convincing an entire generation that this is Batman at his worst, when we have Batman fucking slaughtering his ways through criminals and fucking Barbara Gordon on rooftops these days. I will always take stupid ice puns over misery, murder and creepy intergenerational sex, thank you very much.

I hope you can rest easy, Mr. Schumacher. Maybe you didn’t love your film in the end but, wherever you are, I hope you know I loved it.

[things2mustdo]

If you’ve stared at a blank document and the words weren’t flowing, you’re not alone. Mark Twain sometimes had that experience in front of a typewriter, and Geoffrey Chaucer with an empty parchment and a quill pen. So then, what do you do if you’re blocked while up against a deadline, trying to get that business presentation done, finish the doctoral dissertation about vegetable symbolism in Hamlet, or complete your Jezebel article about how chewing gum contributes to toxic masculinity?

The creative process

It’s important to understand a writing project’s phases:

Planning

Writing

Editing

Planning is where you develop a general outline. This may be the essentials of a plot, or the points you’re trying to make in a monograph. This phase also includes research. If it’s a story, you might also detail the characters, to sketch out their personality and history enough that they’ll come to life. It doesn’t need to be too extensive, though ideally, you’ll have enough information about them that you can imagine a conversation with them or know how they’d react to any given situation.

Editing is pretty self-explanatory. This involves checking the spelling and grammar; no word processor will catch every mistake. Also, that’s where you sharpen up the style, and fix any problems in logic and consistency. Editing is vital to perfecting the quality, but make it whatever you’re doing when you’re not in writing mode.

Writing is the most important part. This is what produces all those words. When a project starts, you have nothing written down, and this is where many people get blocked. Although planning is the first on the list, most likely you already have at least a basic idea of where you’re going with it. Also, it’s sometimes difficult to get into writing mode, which is another reason to prioritize it.

Creative flow

Most writing happens during creative flow. It’s not exactly a trance, but it’s somewhat a different state of consciousness. This takes place in any artistic endeavor. If you’re out on the town and vibing effortlessly, that’s essentially similar. Being blocked in that scenario is the all-too-common experience of wanting to be social or chat up someone but having no idea what to say. Creative flow is necessary even when writing software.

If you’ve got the inspiration fully in gear, then you’re putting ideas down as fast as you can type. I’ve had the experience where stories basically write themselves. Not being able to enter creative flow causes the dreaded writer’s block. Until your first draft is done, or nearly so, then always try to catch the inspiration where ideas coalesce into words almost magically.

What planning and editing have in common is that they’re fairly analytical and detail-oriented. Thus, for the most part, the left hemisphere of the brain is engaged. On the other hand, the writing phase is mainly a right-brained activity. That’s where the artistic functions of the mind happen. So this is a very different process from planning and especially editing.

Note well, it’s pretty hard to get both hemispheres of the brain fully engaged at the same time, unless you’re good enough at meditation to levitate or whatevs.

Get in the right mindset

You must shift gears mentally, so to speak, to enter creative flow for the writing phase. Again, this is what gets your first draft finished, so catch the inspiration whenever possible. This is the trickiest part. This doesn’t just happen on command, any more than you go to sleep at will.

The right mood music may help, something suitable for the task. (With my latest novel, listening to Espirpe Imperial, Division 250, and Celtica really put me in the right state of mind.) If the lyrics get distracting, find something instrumental or in a language you don’t understand well. The ancients invoked the Muses to get into the spirit of things; do that if it works for you.

When you’re in creative flow, it’s easy to get distracted. Set aside some time when you won’t be disturbed. Grab some munchies and your favorite beverage, so you won’t have to get up for it. Set aside extraneous worries or other thoughts, and focus on the project at hand. If necessary, tell anyone else nearby to let you finish your task. If they won’t leave you alone, persuade them to enroll in STFU.

Since most writing these days is done on computers, it’s difficult to avoid distractions. Therefore, you’ll have to discipline yourself. Keep off of the email, video games, stock charts, tentacle porn, and all that when you’ve set aside some time. Turn the ringer off on the phone, or put it in another room if you’re still tempted to check it.

Editing must be done with a clear head, or else you’ll make mistakes. On the other hand, creative flow can happen even when you’re tired. Some writers even prefer to get drunk. (Back in the day, many favored absinthe, though it’s hard to get it quite like they used to make it. The scare stories about it were fairly overblown.) All that is up to your personal discretion. However, it’s advisable not to overdo the bug juice or rely on it as a crutch.

Igniting the spark

So you’re staring at a blank manuscript, and the words aren’t coming off of your fingertips—what then? Rack your brains and write down a sentence or two. Surely you can think of something—anything. Then see if you can get something else down. Take it as far as it will go. This is what shifts the gears. Soon you’ll get a paragraph or two. With luck, words will start flying off your fingers. Run with it as fast as possible!

Note that it doesn’t have to be in any particular order. Speed is what counts. Don’t dwell too much on fixing mistakes, or that will knock you back into edit mode. If the ideas start coming faster than you can get them into sentences, jot down the ideas elsewhere so you can pick up the thread later.

It’s not possible to knock out a novel in one sitting. (With my latest, fourteen chapters and 88K words certainly didn’t happen overnight!) So eventually you’ll have to stop and pick it up later. Reigniting the spark is a little easier when you have something in writing already. You can begin in editing mode, putting things in order, making transitions from one block of finished paragraphs to the next, and otherwise polishing up what you already wrote. When you start getting thoughts on where else you want to go with it, then kick into writing mode and start creating new paragraphs.

Sometimes you’ll have to step back to planning mode, if you need to work out something with logic or direction. That’s fine, but as soon as you come up with some ideas you can write down, then hit it. If necessary, you can go to another writing project, returning to the first later. If all else fails, then start doing some boring, repetitive task that you’ve been putting off for a while. Mull over your ideas while you paint the living room or whatever.

Most importantly, have fun with it!

Don’t miss Beau’s book catalog. Good stuff!

https://www.returnofkings.com/1499/the-art-of-learning

An accomplished chess player and push hand (martial arts) champion shares how the bulk of his success has been due to being a good learner. I was expecting more of a technical guide, but this book actually had many exciting stories in excellent prose that added a lot of heart to his methods, a great example of showing instead of telling.

“Successful people shoot for the stars, put their hearts on the line in every battle, and ultimately discover that the lessons learned from the pursuit of excellence mean much more than the immediate trophies and glory.”

Many people will scoff at this but consistently getting laid on the international level is not unlike competitions that the author faced, especially when it comes to maintaining your concentration in order to perform at peak levels. Are bad nights out due to the girls not liking you or because you were off? How can you ensure that you’ll have a good night every night? The author talks primarily about chess and martial arts, but there’s a lot of anecdotes that players will be able to identify with.

For example, during his chess matches, he started getting annoyed at noises in the auditorium. Sometimes a song he heard earlier would loop in his head. He’d fail at removing them and then would end up losing the match. What he learned to do was to incorporate the noises into his head and use that to adjust his tempo.

Compare noise in a chess match to a cockblocker in a club. We get mad at them, wanting to remove them for the equation, but how about understanding the nature of the cockblocker to successfully pull you girl anyway? Maybe you could approach smaller groups, go for the kiss faster to neutralize the cockblockers effects, or inoculate your target against the potential cockblocker. Harness and adapt to what the environment is giving you to succeed in spite of the difficulties.

What I liked most about the book is how analytical the author is, examining every facet of not only his behavior but how he thinks. In other words, he thinks about how he thinks, meditates on how he meditates. It has put his game on an entirely different level, telling me I may not be reflecting on my experiences enough. This will be especially true for people who seem to repeat mistakes.

“A competitor needs to be process-oriented, always looking for stronger opponents to spur growth but it is also important to keep on winning enough to maintain confidence.”

This isn’t one of those books where some nerd reviews psychological studies—it’s a motivational tour de force written by a man who deliberately put himself through tough situations in order to become a champion. While there were some sluggish parts, particularly in the second half, it’s been a while since I’ve read a book that makes me want to go out there and achieve. Work hard and learn hard—I can’t think of a better winning formula.

Read More: “The Art Of Learning” on Amazon

[ineffably-good]

Fic: Stuck In The Middle With You (1/5)

Note: This story is a challenge that a friend and I came up with to write a time loop story in honor of upcoming Groundhog Day and the film of the same name. We are both trying to finish a loop story by February 2nd! Join us and write your own!

Summary:  A month after the apocalyse-that-wasn't, both Crowley and Aziraphale are beyond frustrated that they still haven't moved beyond their impasse of neither of them wanting to make the first move and declare their feelings. Fortunately, Crowley has decided to do something about it. 

Go read the full story on AO3!

Chapter 1

It was three weeks after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, and Crowley woke up aware of two very important things: one, the sun was shining directly in his face, which wasn’t supposed to happen in his dark and gloomy bedroom, and two, he was intensely frustrated with the situation between him and his angel.

He cracked an eye open and took a look around to see what had caused the sunlight problem, and noted that one of his curtain rods has somehow fallen in the night, bringing one side of the dark gray velvet curtains down and allowing the atrocity of morning sunlight to shine in on him at seven thirty in the bloody morning. This was wrong. Crowley preferred to sleep in complete darkness until at least noon. He threw back the black comforter and stomped over to peer at the empty screw holes in the wall, and then snapped it all back in place with a quick round of hellish power. Then, just for effect, he threatened the offending curtain rod with all the curses he could think of if it ever had the temerity to do so again.

That settled, he stalked out to the kitchen to magic himself up a cappuccino and think about his second problem. Namely, Aziraphale.

It had been nearly a month since the events at Tadfield Air Base, since their kidnappings and narrow escape from the respective forces of Above and Below. They were free, independent, on their own side for the first time in millennia. Problem was, Crowley had thought that On Their Own Side would mean an end to six millennia of dithering about whether they did or didn’t have feelings for each other. Because he absolutely did. And he was nearly sure the angel harbored feelings at well. But the angel – despite no longer needing to be afraid – continued to equivocate. He was absolutely, positively, dithering full speed ahead.

Nothing, essentially, had changed.

Sure, they saw each other much more, and they didn’t have to skulk around using their various hidden meeting points around town anymore. They had lunches that turned into dinners and met for breakfast and took walks and managed to spend as much time together as they could – but still, Aziraphale was keeping his distance, emotionally. He kept his hands primly folded and his gazes lowered and his feelings to himself.

It was driving Crowley stark, raving mad. And today, he’d decided, was the day it was going to change, no matter what it took. He’d been researching, watching lots and lots of romantic movies and noting what always brought the leads together in the end. He’d been collating and cross referencing and considering what he’d learned and what he knew about his angel. In the end, he decided, it all came down to one thing: a rival.

With a grim smile, the demon pulled out his phone and began to finalize his plans.

--

Aziraphale finished his entries in the ledger for the month and put down his fountain pen with a contented sigh. There was nothing quite as satisfying as finishing a ledger and seeing all the neat numbers, handwritten in crisp black ink, marching neatly down the page in their tidy columns. He blew on the ink to ensure it was dry, and then eased the book closed and back onto the top shelf of the desk. Then he sat back and let his mind drift for a moment, and of course, it drifted to the Crowley problem.

Aziraphale was frustrated. It had been nearly a month and the demon seemed no closer than ever to indicating if he had any romantic interest in him or not. Sure they were spending more time together, and they were much less paranoid about being seen together, but so far all of his attempts to signal interest – by feathering his nest, so to speak, making things as comfortable as he could for Crowley, lingering near and batting his eyelashes, leaning in and giving him what he thought of as his special Crowley smile – had fallen short.

He wondered, perhaps, if he had misjudged Crowley’s interest all along. The thought petrified him. The last thing he wanted to do, now that they finally had peace, was to push the demon away by nudging him for a romantic commitment that he had no real interest in. And so he held himself back, watching and waiting, hoping that things might become clear with time.

The bell over the bookshop door jingled and he knew without looking that it was the demon in question.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called out as he came strolling into the office. “You back here?”

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley flopped down onto the couch. “You look nice today – is that a new shirt?” the angel asked, eyeing the demon closely.

“I do that from time to time,” Crowley said as he settled even further into a sprawl. “Got anything to drink around here?”

Aziraphale gave him one last perusal and headed off to the kitchen to make some tea, adding a good dollop of whiskey to Crowley’s, before heading back and settling down on the other end of the couch.

Crowley took an exploratory sip, grunted appreciatively and then downed half of the cup in a single swallow. “So angel, did you hear that the pub down the street is changing owners again?”

“The good pub or the bad pub?”

“The bad one. Switching hands.”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale said with interest. “Well one can only hope that perhaps there will be a resulting increase in the quality of their –"

He was cut off by the tinkle of the front door yet again. Aziraphale looked up in annoyance.

“Oh good lord,” he said bitterly. “Customers. Did I forget to turn the sign to closed?”

Crowley sat suddenly upright, catching a glimpse of someone through the stacks behind them. “Oh no, angel, that’s not really a customer – this one’s mine. New friend – I invited him to come see the shop.”

As Crowley got up to go greet the newcomer, Aziraphale took a moment to examine the man. Their visitor was younger than them, in his late 20s perhaps, with the moderate, wiry build of someone who worked out regularly. He wore sharply creased, high-end jeans with a button down shirt and a slim cut black blazer. His dark hair was cut short and swept back away from his chiseled face where dark brown eyes looked around, taking the shop in. He was, in a word, quite handsome.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called as he turned back towards the office, “come meet Kevin.”

Aziraphale plastered on a smile and went over to shake hands with Crowley’s new friend. “Welcome, Kevin,” he said with warmth but a slight tinge of reserve to his voice. “How do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we met at the pub the other night,” Crowley said. “Night you were busy with the taxes, I think. Ended up having a few drinks and it turns out Kevin here has quite a love of books. I told him to drop by and have a look next time he was in Soho.”

Aziraphale made as a good host should and offered his new acquaintance a tour, showing him the highlights of his collection. To his credit, Kevin made intelligent comments and seemed to know his first editions. The angel had to admit he was quite personable.

“Have a seat, I’ll go get some tea,” Aziraphale said, heading off to the back room. He spent a few minutes thinking while he put a tea tray together. It wasn’t like Crowley to invite people around to his shop – he couldn’t think of it happening more than once or twice in the last two hundred years, and when it had, it was usually someone he thought Aziraphale needed to know, not someone he’d been off drinking with. Nonetheless, he told himself, no point in being a ninny about these things; there was no reason Crowley couldn’t make a new friend, and perhaps he was introducing him to Aziraphale so that he’d realize there was nothing to worry about.

When he came back out with the tea, however, he found Crowley and Kevin sitting just a little too close together on the sofa, with Crowley leaning in towards the young man to mumble something in a low voice that made him laugh.

He had, Aziraphale noted, a lovely laugh.

If he put down the tea tray a little too firmly, he was able to play it off as a bit of momentary clumsiness, nothing more.

Aziraphale tried to join in the general conversation and Kevin did make a point of nicely attempting to include him, but he couldn’t help but notice that, mostly, Kevin and Crowley wanted to talk to each other. They were laughing and chatting about various people at the pub and some kind of hilarious hijinks that took place there. They gamely tried to explain it to Aziraphale, but it really turned out to be one of those ‘you-had-to-be-there’ moments.

The angel tuned out a bit and instead sat back and examined them both a little more closely. Was there a bit more of a sparkle in Crowley’s eye than usual? He seemed … almost flushed. Unusually attentive to what the human was saying. From his perch across the room, Aziraphale didn’t see what was so fascinating about Kevin’s conversation. He was funny but not exactly witty. He was attractive, but in an obvious sort of way. He was smart, but not brilliant. Aziraphale sniffed a little in disdain.

And as for Kevin – it was obvious to see that he was quite smitten with the demon next to him. Everything about his body language shouted it – the slight lean, the hand that hovered near his shoulder on the back of the couch, the ready and eager way he laughed at everything Crowley said. The slightly too-long eye contact whenever possible. It was obvious and overblown and he couldn’t believe Crowley was falling for it.

What on earth was going on? Aziraphale eventually excused himself and went to his desk to shuffle papers. Neither of his companions appeared to notice.

After another twenty minutes of conversation, Kevin finally got up to excuse himself.

“I’m co-hosting a party tonight at a flat in Chelsea,” Kevin said. “The owner is an old friend of mine and he’s recently sold the place, so we’re having a farewell bash before he hands it over. You should both come! Be my guests.”

Aziraphale knew Crowley hated parties, so he immediately started formulating a polite refusal for both of them.

“Thank you but I’m not sure if we will be able to –"

“We’d love to,” Crowley said, not even seeming to hear the angel. “See you there.”

He didn’t seem to notice Aziraphale staring at him in surprise.

--

“Well he seems lovely,” Aziraphale said after the door had shut behind him. “New friend, then?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Crowley said as he walked around restlessly, touching various knick-knacks and removing and replacing various volumes. “He seemed nice. Thought maybe it would be a good time to broaden our circle a little bit. Try out something new.”

Since when do you like nice? Aziraphale thought. Since when do we have a circle?

He couldn’t decide if Crowley was interested in the newcomer himself or if he was trying to set Aziraphale up with him, but either way it appeared to be bad news.

--

Crowley headed home and pulled out his phone to text Kevin.

Good work, he wrote. I think he’s getting a little jealous. We will up the ante tonight as discussed.

A second later, there was a ding for an incoming message.

You bet boss. What do you want me to do, exactly?

Crowley thought for a moment and then wrote back.

Let’s play it by ear, but definitely include some dancing and maybe a snog or two if the moment seems right.

You got it.

Crowley sprawled down on the couch and snapped his fingers to turn on the television and tried to find a nice sitcom to relax with. A moment later his phone buzzed again.

Wear something cute.

He rolled his eyes. Actors. Always so dramatic.

Go read the rest of chapter one on AO3!

[aizenat]

hikarilight01 replied to your post “Different anon but I agree with you, the author had a choice. If they...”

sigh age gap exist and while I can see Tohru's parents being upsetting even though he made Kyoko life better and wouldn't force her into it so soon and Akito is early 20's so sorry but you guys are so touchy and the fact you guys focus on it make you creepy aswell do it not? it like people who complain because anime girls has breast like gasp real life -_- hope I wasn't to harsh but this is getting old and overblown.

You weren’t harsh; just a whole ass idiot. 

For starters, Akito is not “early 20s.” At MOST she’s 20, and that’s pushing it. As someone who used to work with kids and understands children’s rate of growth and development, I can say with certainty that looking back at flashbacks with Yuki and Akito should be a good way to help determine, or at least make an educated guess regarding, Akito’s age. Children don’t deviate much in stature when they’re young in terms of gender; puberty is when you start seeing disparities in height that are a bit more dramatic. I’m five feet tall now but was often one of the taller kids in my classes until I hit about 10 (when, coincidentally, I got my first period). 

My point being that in flashbacks, Akito is barely bigger than Yuki. At the ages we saw them, children who are even a year or two older deviate immensely from each other. Again, using me as an example: I’m a year older than my brother, and stood consistently a full head taller than him until, you guessed it, we both hit puberty and he started to grow taller than me. You can look at pictures of us from childhood until even about 11/12 and I was still taller. Even in the series, in flashbacks of Kagura and Kyo as children, Kagura being two years older than Kyo, we see her noticeably taller than Kyo in those flashbacks. So if Akito was 3+ years older than Yuki, we would SEE that difference. Yet Akito doesn’t look more than a year older than Yuki, two at the absolute MOST. 

Also, while Ritsu was aged up in the recent anime, he was originally labeled 20 years old at his introduction. And he was born before Akito. Kureno noted that Ritsu was too young to remember the dream when Akito was conceived; and baby Ritsu was at least a toddler then, so likely around 18 months to two years. (Granted, that could just be Takaya drawing characters really young). EVEN if you agree with the roughly 21/22 ish age that Ritsu was all but called directly in the anime, he was old enough to walk when Akito was conceived. 

Thus why I keep saying that saying Akito is 20 is PUSHING IT. She’s likely 18ish by the start of the story, and you can be mad about that lol. 

Also, in no real life circumstance is a man in his 20s getting with a 14/15 year old ever a good thing. In no way is a man in his late twenties hooking up with someone in their late teens healthy. That’s the reason people are calling this out. Again, the fact that Takaya has a HABIT of these types of parings in her story, it makes it feel less like a one off thing and something she thinks is normal and okay. A one off thing is “eh, whatever.” The fact that THREE couples are like this is a problem. 

Calling this out lets us have a conversation about how dangerous these types of relationships are so REAL LIFE girls don’t romanticize this and go trying to recreate it. Because it’s literally setting themselves up for abuse. In a story that focuses so much about how to heal from abuse, it’s a bit disturbing that so many characters are in relationships that are cesspools for abuse. So as we’re having conversations about what lessons to take from Fruits Basket, it’s important to also look at what lessons we should just ignore. 

Again, I don’t really give two flying shits about these relationships. I ignore them because I never liked them. Uo should be a whole ass dyke. Kyoko and Katsuya always creeped me out. And Akito and Shigure as a couple are just so fucking stupid that you couldn’t make me care. When I think of Fruits Basket I think of Tohru and Kyo, Yuki and Machi, Ayame and Mine, Hatori and Mayuko, Kakeru and Komaki, etc. I think of the characters that are just so in love and it’s cute and sweet and there’s none of that nonsense. I never paid too much attention to the three with gaps because I simply don’t agree with them. 

But people are allowed to express their disdain for how Takaya tried to write these fucked up relationships as though they were sweet and harmless and “healing” when that’s just NOT how that plays out in real life. Pointing this out helps us to not romanticize it and to not normalize it. Which, as a society and culture, we absolutely shouldn’t be doing. Stories help shape culture, so if we want to call out the problematic aspects of our culture so we can change it, it does start with conversations like this. Again, be mad. 

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

The Emoji Movie review

[NOTE: THE FOLLOWING IS AN OVEREXAGGERATION. PLEASE DO NOT WORRY OR TAKE HOW I SAY THINGS 100% SERIOUSLY. THIS MOVIE HAS NOT ACTUALLY MADE ME SUICIDAL.] 

This is it. The Emoji Movie. A film I and the rest of the world have been dreading. Today I have finally seen this film, and… it has drained me of all will to live. This is it; I can’t live in this world any longer after having seen this movie. This has to be my last review, because I can no longer live in a world where this movie exists.

 Is it because it’s so abysmally bad as all the reviews said? Is it truly the worst animated film ever made, an utterly soulless cash grab of a movie? What could drive me to my death like this?

 The fact that… I just… even after seeing it, I just can’t muster up the absolutely vitriolic hatred everyone else seems to have for it. It’s not even bad. It’s not even good. It’s just… meh. This movie is meh. And after getting so hyped up to see the worst animated film ever, this is… disappointing. Heart-breakingly, soul-crushingly disappointing.

So, what is the story here? Well, Ralph is a villain who feels out of pl- uh, sorry, Emmet is a LEGO man who wants to conform but ju- oh, um, pardon. Joy is an emotion who… okay, you get the idea. This film is nothing but a bald-faced, shameless ripoff of the plots of a dozen better films. The “Be yourself” message, the hero who wants to conform but learns to love being expressive, the journey to find oneself… it has been done to death, and done a billion times better. This movie is just every animated cliché ever. Fuck, the whole trailer revealed the entire plot and story arc in two minutes.

God… the worst thing, aside from the plot, is the main characters… But they aren’t even bad enough. They’re all so unbearably generic and trite. Gene is your average hero questioning his identity. He’s Ralph, he’s Emmet, he’s basically every goddamn animated protagonist for years and years, only with most of his personality excised and replaced with all the beats but none of the character. For an emoji with so many expressions beyond the one he’s supposed to have, he’s not very expressive. And even with all that, he’s just so inoffensively bland it’s hard to hate him. Hi-5 is an obnoxious comedy sidekick who contributes very little to the story and serves as a hindrance more often than not. But… he’s still got a few good jokes in him, and while he’s absolutely obnoxious and selfish, he’s still not as awful as he could be. Jailbreak is a ripoff of all the blue-haired action girls you can imagine, shamelessly cribbing Sombra, Chloe Price, Wyldstyle, and more, just subtracting anything that makes those characters interesting… and even then, she’s still not totally void of good moments. These three characters are who we spend time with so much, and they aren’t more than depressingly bland, generic archetypes. It hurts. Why couldn’t they just be absolutely, unlikably awful? Like, they all suck, but they just don’t suck enough!

And goddamn, is this plot filled with horrible, awful stupidity! We have Jailbreak spouting off terrible, hamfisted feminist messages by stating men take credit for things women say all the time, we have the human characters acting like words are uncool and emojis are the only worthwhile form of communication, we have the conceit that phones have firewalls and that internet trolls can just simply be deleted forever with the click of a button… oh, if only. There’s just so much that is unbelievably stupid and pathetic and poorly done, the whole story feels like nothing but a first draft that somehow got greenlit with no corrections done. And that’s not getting in to all of the blatant product placement, such as the cringeworthy portrayal of Dropbox as some sort of heavenly safehaven, Twitter ending up being a savior, outdated meme videos playing on YouTube, and the extended Candy Crush scene.

But I wouldn’t feel like dying if there wasn’t those few things of value, those things that keep me from letting loose pure unbridled hatred as so many others have, and saving myself. For instance, the animation… God, this film is an absolute treat for the eyes. The backgrounds, the visuals, the human characters, there is just so much visual stimulation in this film. It’s plain fun to look at, and it’s such a shame that so much talent and effort was used to make… this. It honestly hurts worse knowing that this gorgeous film is a subpar animated comedy.

Oh, but even more depressing is that the film has some genuinely good characters. The villain, Smiler, is so absolutely blatantly villainous due to how passive-agressively nice she constantly has to be she ends up being far more likable and entertaining than the so-called heroes. It helps too that she lives in what can only be described as a cosmic horror story, a Baby’s First Lovecraft if you will: she lives in a universe controlled by a fickle teenage boy whose first reaction to even the slightest malfunction is DELETE EVERYTHING. She has every right to be as concerned to the point of madness, as even the slightest fuckup would result in the utter annihilation of her entire universe; it’s to the point where she, despite the fact that in any other movie she would have crossed a million lines, comes across as one of the most reasonable characters in the film.

Then we have Poop, the character voiced by Patrick Stewart, and a shining example of how this film wastes brilliance. Poop has maybe ten lines in the movie and a few visual jokes, but everything he says tends to be rather funny, and he even manages to squeeze in a Star Trek joke. Why didn’t he get to go on the journey instead of Hi-5? If we’re going to listen to a bunch of jokes, even shit jokes, for 80 or so minutes, at least it’s Patrick Stewart telling them.

Next are Gene’s parents, Mary and Mel. These two are, without a doubt, the funniest characters in the entire movie, due to being in a constant state of “meh.” They react to even the most intense and stressful situations with just the most hilarious indifference, and even more baffling, they get a truly beautiful and emotional scene late in the film (!!!). Yes, you read that right: there is actually a beautiful and emotional scene in this movie. This only further compounds my sadness; why was the movie not about these two? They’re the best characters! Why is the spotlight on their boring son, instead of on these two hilariously indifferent emojis who can actually pull off a genuinely tender moment?

Finally, we have Akiko Glitter, a joyous, bouncy dancer who appears in the Just Dance app. She’s sweet, she’s fun, she’s cute, she plays Wham! She’s such a kind and bouncy character! …And at the end of her only scene she is coldly and brutally murdered by Smiler’s robots as her game is being deleted from the phone. Her death is bizarrely shocking and depressing for this film, and even worse… we see what happens to her after being deleted. She is trapped in the garbage, continuously dancing in agony as it is all she knows how to do, her eyes dead as she goes through the motions of a job that no longer exists. And despite her  kindness to Gene and friends, Gene opts to leave her to die in the trash, not even bothering to save her when he comes to save Hi-5. And yes: she dies down there. This wonderful, fun-loving lady is left to die in a hellhole filled with garbage, trolls, and spam. Fucking Christ. If I was not depressed before, I am now.

So to sum things up, this movie has four redeeming features: evil brought on by existential dread, shit, unadulterated indifference, and the horrific death of beauty and joy. That sounds eerily like every review has painted this film, and yet… and yet… It really isn’t close to being that bad. Chicken Little was way worse. Doogal was way worse. There are so many movies that are absolutely, horrendously, abysmally awful, so many films unfathomably worse than this movie, that the hatred feels overblown to the point of being hollow. And I wanted so badly to hate this movie! I wanted to join in with the crowds, and cast this down as the worst animated film ever! But, I just can’t in good conscience do that, because it truly isn’t. The hatred for this movie is just a knee-jerk reaction to the soulless cash grab feel it has. And it is that, but it’s just not bad enough even with that glaringly obvious fact permeating it. I can’t even tell you if it’s so bad it’s good… it just kind of… exists. It has highs, it has lows, and I just can’t really sum up how I feel about it accurately…

Well… I guess I can… This movie is “meh.” I cannot bring myself to feel strongly about it one way or the other. And that’s why I can’t bear to live anymore; this movie let me down in the worst possible way. It just wasn’t bad enough to warrant my vitriol, or good enough to warrant my praise. This movie promised to give me at least one extreme, and I silently prayed for the other against all odds… and it delivered nothing. It delivered a depressingly middling experience.

So farewell. This is it. The big finish. There’s only one way I can truly end my life after seeing this, and that is by calling upon the one true awful emoji film…

I did it for the lulz.

I did it for the lulz.

I did it for the lulz.