#with coherent plot

[ackermental]

Honestly, Hollywood should be grateful that China has cenzorship fucking their shows up, because otherwise they would take over the market, just like manga did with comics.

[daisiesandviscaria]

random tgr moment but…

jeremy’s reaction to jean being attracted to anyone but him being “get his attention then take my shirt off” is the FUNNIEST POSSIBLE CHOICE

[robinhuntr]

Rogue in stories without Gambit vs. Gambit in stories without Rogue

[kaiserouo]

technically he's not lying

[0ann3]

"It's been a long time, hasn't it friends?"

"Or maybe our last meeting was only yesterday for you-"

[just a heads up but I got a whole lot of text below for some thoughts/ramblings and headcanons of the event lolol]

Ngl, I was kinda expecting that he's dead since he did give off some vibes that he's from a distant past

But I was still hoping that I was wrong and maybe he's really just from a distant or isolated island, and he'll pop up at the end of the story as one of the visitors during the Halloween event KAJSHDAKSLDJH

That or maybe he got reincarnated

The idea of Skully as one of the ghosts in Ramshackle is so nice and sad at the same time though. Like imagine if he's just hovering around the academy for years and then after some centuries or so he senses some sort of familiarity with certain students and just watches over them. Then when Yu came around he got the urge to protect them and stick around them the most.

So maybe when the students got suck into the book he also got dragged into it and he gets to see his younger self and the whole event that happened as a ghost, which is why when they finally got to leave he gets to remember the whole thing. Then he kisses everyone like he did the first time around as another greeting because he finally knows why they felt familiar! (Although they don't remember he doesn't mind-)

And he did it as a 'it's nice to meet you in the real world this time' kind of thing

...

Anyway

This is why I might try to be on a lookout for some Oc x Skully or Yu x Skully because I think it has so many potential and possibilities with this ending (Reincarnation AU? AU where Skully is a ghost in Ramshackle who's looking out for Yu and is the one who protects them, which is why they leave fights unscathed while everyone just thinks they're lucky? Modern AU or one when they meet once Yu is able to return home from Twisted Wonderland?????) 😭😭😭 His ending was kinda bittersweet ok, I want to see things turning out in a happier note

[amber-angel]

What's the POINT?????

I half expected Misty's fucking chocolate martini to be poisoned, that's how out of left field these stupid plotlines are getting

[aaeeart]

(commission info)

some more Inquisitor Kanan, because i miss the whump

[merakiui]

to the anon who put virgin otaku jock floyb in my mind, this one is for you. <3

[hiding-under-the-willow]

Sorry for vague posting about my nefarious crossover intent and then dropping off the face of the earth for over a week, I'm currently addicted to minecraft to a generally unhealthy degree. anyways here's the silly crossover art lol

[irisbellemoon]

every once in a while i remember all the really cool dsmp storylines that never got anywhere and shrivel up inside

[randomwriteronline]

Still thinking abt @crystaltoa 's narrative and destiny in bionicle essay and at some point it struck me that oh shit is this why Lesovikk never achieves anything?

Because his destiny was to die, basically, he's technically been retired from the narrative before even entering it. He should by all accounts be the equivalent of a name in the flavor text of a Skyrim history book, just there to give additional context to the culture or language or history of the Matoran Universe. He could leave! He could sit back and watch it all unfold from the safety of his "narratively dead" status. But he doesn't know that, and so he wallows in grief and misery for 90 thousand years as he runs in circles desperately trying to insert himself back into a story that just doesn't respond to his presence. He can't save his team because Destiny says so, he can't return to his Matoran because he technically shouldn't exist anymore, he can't kill Karzhani because he's an actual character with a role to play and he can't just be decommissioned by flavor text.

Even in The Powers That Be, where the influence of the narrative is waning and retired characters are being brought back into the story through the Red Star, his only victory is undone (Idris and Sarda notably do not appear even in mentions in the serial despite them having formed/regained a bond with him previously, implying they have since returned to the Mahri/Voya communities while Lesovikk hasn't for whatever reason) and he remains unable to pursue his goals, at best becoming Velika's scapegoat.

He's like a vengeful yet ineffectual ghost stuck in a house that has moved on without him, repeating old motions in the hopes that he will somehow solve his unfinished business soon.

The Myths and Legacy version's conclusion for him (while I still don't enjoy it personally) does fit this reading. He shows up so suddenly on the Red Star but is it strange? Does it even matter? That's where he should have been to begin with, of course the story would twist and bend itself to accomodate that. While Velika is horrendously cruel about it, revealing Lesovikk's purpose in the narrative exorcises that guilt he's been dragging around for nearly a thousand centuries and gives him solace: he fully detaches himself from Kopaka and Pohatu to join the living dead he has so much more in common with, and finally he realizes that little plot point that he'd been stuck on for so long and is finally at peace. By tearing himself to shreds and blowing up a spaceship but at peace nonetheless.

[dredgesnails]

i have so many thoughts i want to write down on how gem plays the life series like its a game and the theory that she's not trapped like everyone else, she can leave whenever she wants, but trying to verbalise it just turns into me going oohehheh gem... hehhhehouaugh

[theclownghoul]

Oh god clown is talking about Ekko saving Jinx from offing herself again… okok bare with me

I don’t like that scene, I’ve gone into it many times but I do see why people like it and I did enjoy the music video. It also got me thinking.

We never heard the conversation that they had which I would have loved since they barely do talk to each other the whole show.

Now one of my favourite fan ideas post season 2 is canon divergence where Ekko doesn’t get whisked away to the AU and he and Jinx actually start to bond through their part in Zaun’s revolution. By bond I mean tolerate each other’s existence and argue all the time but it’s never truly about what they’re talking about at the moment. Sevika and Scar are very tired. But the one thing they can get along over (or rather they don’t have their walls up as much) is Isha and kids in general. We know Ekko is good with kids and Jinx is good with Isha but she’s still new to taking care of a kid. Hijinks ensue and everyone is a menace to Caitlyn and the enforcers.

But something still happens to Isha. While under Jinx’s care the takes a huge risk for the revolution (she’ll actually have a personality and her sacrifice should mean something) and Jinx feels responsible.

Ekko finds her in her layer after hearing what happened. It wouldn’t be anywhere near as extreme as the original but he can tell she might do something dangerous. We see them talk, actually being properly vulnerable for the first time. At first Jinx is trying to pull away, everyone that loves her gets hurt, she can’t let him get close. Just in general bring what they were trying to do to the surface without the focus on the bomb and the Z drive.

He assures her she’ll see Vi again, that she’s not alone, that she’s see Isha again, just not anytime soon, that he won’t give up on her again.

I love in the mv that they’re close to each other most of the time but don’t hug until the end and when they touch she melts into the comfort. They’ve been antagonistic for a long time so it takes some time.

It would just be more meaningful if the reason Ekko has faith in her is her not the AU, if he knew Isha and what she meant to Jinx, if Isha got to be a character in her own right and if we got to see them connect instead of just getting more trauma for the aesthetic.

[zahri-melitor]

You are brave for re-reading Gotham War!

I don’t really see any reason to say I’m ‘brave’ rereading The Gotham War. It’s a perfectly normal Bat family event.

I’ve read ones that are far more poorly plotted (Officer Down, take a bow), incoherent (making sense of the order of events in Batman RIP and Final Crisis is a project and a half), generally unpleasant (Death of the Family), and full of motivated characterisation in service of the plot (the actual problem with Battle for the Cowl). There’s no extended torture scenes (the thing that puts most people off War Games). It focuses on characters people enjoy rather than inventing newbies to carry the plot (hello Fear State). It’s not even that long (Knightfall drags. In many places).

Is it a top tier event? No, but it’s perfectly readable. Selina gets stuck holding the idiot ball to set the story in motion, there’s a restricted set of characters that are highlighted in the story but that’s pretty normal, and the team writing it should have worked more closely in terms of making sure the stories all flowed coherently together, but there’s nothing that stands out as a reason to pretend it never happened. The most controversial part of the plot is what, Jason on fear serum? And that feels like it flows from the story that Rosenberg was working on for Jason anyway, having now read the two preceding titles (Task Force X and The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing). The situation is resolved not long after and it gives Jason the opportunity to be a hero with the plane at the end, overcoming his own fear.

Honestly, I’d be far less likely to reread Shadow War or Death of the Family or Batman: Endgame than The Gotham War. It’s got a bunch of moments that make me smile, it reminds me of one of the best Batman events (Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive), and it involves pivots in storytelling and fallout for the three titles involved in it (Batman, Catwoman, and the Rosenberg Red Hood stories), rather than immediately being forgotten by everyone.

[falafels]

I nominate Allison for next Q&A ✨✨🫶🫶

oOohhhh okeyyyy ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[oacest]

fic: kenet, dragon!liam, 3.6K words

When Liam was little and did something to annoy Noel, whether it be stealing his stuff, whining, chattering, following him around everywhere, or generally just existing in his space, he used to tell him they weren't really brothers.

(This was before Liam's fire came in, before his explosive tantrums were a threat to the structural integrity of the council house.)

Liam was bad at school – his head was in the clouds years before he ever managed to wing his way up there. If he'd paid any attention to his special classes, he would've known Noel was only having him on, that it was one of those genetic fuck-yous that riddled their family. They had a grand uncle in County Mayo like Liam; he was locally famous for having a few too many and terrorizing pilgrims off Croagh Patrick.

As it was, it didn't take much to convince Liam he was adopted; it wasn't like Noel or Paul occasionally had a tail, now did they.

You're lying, Liam would moan. As if he wasn't already tearing up.

I ain't. Da won you in a card game. Pair of sevens was all he needed to bring you home.

It didn't matter to little Liam that their family was dirt poor and kind of awful; the idea of not really belonging to it filled him with an instinctive terror. Noel never knew if that was because of his condition or just being the baby of the family.

Of course it always backfired, because Liam would go running to Mam, and then she'd twist his ear for telling his little brother he came from an egg like one of them turtles down by Cringle Brook.

Noel pretty much forgot about it by the time they left Tommy and got the new house. The old taunt got buried under years of other insults and lies, under a mountain of reluctant fondness and occasional wonderment, and then other things.

By the time they were in Oasis, the fact of their brotherhood was not only obvious to anyone who looked at them, it was also central to every facet of their waking lives. It was the first thing people knew about either of them, which is a bit fucking much when you considered Liam occasionally shifted into a winged, fire-breathing creature the size of a fucking tank.

Nevertheless: Noel Gallagher, big brother to Liam. Liam Gallagher, little brother to the entire fucking country it sometimes seemed. But first and foremost Noel's.

So yeah, Noel forgot what he used to say.

Liam never did, though.

–------

Most dragons? Proper ugly fuckers. Bullish heavy foreheads and beady eyes, ill-formed features like they got jumbled about after a lifetime of being rearranged all the time in the shift. It's just one of the many ways Liam was blessed at birth that he seems to be the exception.

In some lighting you wouldn't even notice the faint iridescence of scales just under Liam's skin where it gets thin: the underside of his wrists, the imprint of his spine. The bleach of his knuckles when his hand is in a fist.

He has a slight pebbling at the ridge of his eye socket, but somehow through the magic of his brother that gets turned around into something beautiful too. Beautiful and occasionally terrifying.

Between the two of them, Noel is the one who looks like he'd be the dragon. But he's never been jealous, except for a brief stretch of years when he dreamed nonstop about what he'd do if he could grow bigger: if he could smash Tommy into bits or breathe fire, transform his entire ugly world into cinders.

He got over that, though. And Liam went on to live his life in such a way as no one could feel jealous of it.

1994

“Is it true you're telepathic?” asked the girl from Em Tee Vee. They were in some hotel room, where half these interviews seemed to take place.

Truth was, they used the hotel rooms because their schedule was so crazy, and also because Marcus hoped Liam would behave better if he was in a space he felt he could own. What Marcus or anyone had yet to understand was that Liam felt he owned any and every space he happened to be in at the time. And that he was hardly more likely to behave if Noel was present.

“No,” said Noel.

“'Course it is,” said Liam. He waved a hand between them and then at himself. Wiped his nose; the fire made his sinuses tingle sometimes. “But not – not like this.”

“Not ever,” said Noel firmly. Liam couldn't communicate in his other form; he could barely communicate in this one.

“He's lying,” said Liam. He took a drink from his pint, looking sullen. “I remember, when I was little and could still like, perch on his shoulder—”

“So when you were two?” said Noel, shaking his head at the girl.

“You let me do it until I was at least five. Anyway, I could talk to him then. Hear 'im in me head too. 'Course I did, how is a kid supposed to get on if he can't talk to anyone and he's hungry or, or gets lost up a tree or summat? But he stopped talking back. Now he never listens neither.”

“None of that is true,” said Noel, and the world believed him because the alternative was insane.

2015

Noel.

Noel.

Noel, Noely G, Noel Gallagher. You fuckin prick, let us in. Noel, you awake? Noel, I know you're awake, the cousins always drag us out when we're in Dublin. Nole. Noel! NOELNOELNOELNOEL—

He groaned and finally pushed up from his marvelous big bed. There was the not-lately-familiar feeling of someone trying to tweeze out thoughts from his head with a pair of serrated chopsticks, and he half-hunched over in pain as he made his way over to the window of the rented flat.

He dragged aside the floor-length curtain and grimaced up into the glowing blue eyes of his brother, who had somehow wedged his elephantine body into the narrow space of the balcony. The wrought iron railing was battered and bent outwards, the grill and wicker chairs toppled over. This was going to do wonders for Noel's reputation for partying.

He rubbed his eyes and considered shutting the curtains again.

Liam, as if he could read his thoughts (he couldn't), huffed a massive breath that caused half the glass door to immediately fog over, and then thumped his head against it. Once, twice. He blinked his massive eyes down at him.

Let me in, cunt.

“Why are you here?” he demanded as he slid the balcony door open. Liam's head immediately pushed inside, followed by his long neck. “Aren't you supposed to be in New York for court? What the fuck, Liam?”

Liam shook his head like a dog and wiggled forward a few more steps. Out on the balcony, the railing groaned and shrieked as his heavy, razorback tail slid free of it.

He shifted as he walked, because even those massive balcony doors wouldn't fit his shoulders. In a minute he was standing naked in the middle of Noel's bedroom, looking around like he'd never seen one before.

“What the fuck?” said Noel again for good measure.

“In the morning,” he grumbled, rolling his neck and already stepping towards the bed like it was his. “Man, 'm completely knackered.”

“Long day being unemployed and a wanker?” But he was tired too and, while he had long since learned that the path of least resistance did nothing to actually ameliorate their relationship, he couldn't be bothered when it was four in the morning and he had a busy schedule the next day.

He got back into bed and Liam wasted no time cuddling up, like they still did this all the time. As always, his chest was like a reactor core. It was like trying to sleep on a bed of hot coals.

“You're sneaking out tomorrow morning,” said Noel, shoving a pillow in the nonexistent space between their bodies for some insulation. “I mean it. Tour's only starting, and if I have to spend it talking about you drunkenly winging across Ireland sky-writing tweets instead of promoting my album, I'll kill you. I really will.”

Liam ducked his head and chewed on the corner of the pillow. “Your album,” he muttered, muffled. “I used to have albums. Loads of 'em. A lovely, bright collection.”

Noel rolled his eyes. He said nothing and hoped for sleep to instantaneously claim them both.

“And fans,” continued Liam mournfully around the pillow corner, which was starting to get singed. “And music every day.”

His eyes slid up the length of Noel's body, faintly glowing again. If he tried shifting and broke the bed, Noel would find this flat's fire extinguisher and spray its contents down his throat.

“You could still have all those things,” he pointed out, exhaustion masquerading as patience. “If you got off your ass and put your name on the line. You know, you'd think you'd want that – your name over everything.”

“That was always the difference between me and you,” said Liam. “Didn't need my name over something to know it was mine.”

He slid his knee forward and up over Noel's legs. His dick was a hard burning line against his thigh.

Noel chewed on his lip and held his breath for a long moment of possibility. It had been years since they did that. Stopping was probably part of the reason things got so bad; generally speaking, dragons did not like being told no. But it was the only way.

Noel had worked too hard to start saying yes again on some random night in March on the eve of his second world tour.

“Go to sleep,” he said, and he rolled over so his back was to him.

2018

People were too fucking precious about it these days, the way they were about everything. Fucking snowflake millennials. Suddenly naming something for what it was or describing how it fucks with your day was simply not on, apparently.

Back in the nineties, people would meet Liam, spend maybe half an hour with him, and come away wincing sympathetically at Noel for what he had to deal with all the time. Twenty years on, neither of them have changed and yet now Noel's the bad guy for simply stating Liam is obsessed and jealous and thinks even now that Noel is part of his—

“Ooh,” says Donald from Radio 2, “I don't think we should use that word.”

It takes a moment for Noel to realize which one he means. “What, hoard?” he says incredulously.

A click signals the producer on the other side of the glass has hit a button. Cathy's voice pipes into the booth. “It's considered othering, Noel.”

“Then it's doing its job, because my brother is as other as it fucking gets.”

“That – may be,” says Donald bracingly, “but our listeners are not, and we wouldn't want to blindside them.”

Blindside, fucking christ. As if they were not talking about the man who once went on a three-day bender and passed out in broad daylight in Notting Hill on Michael Hutchence's jag, crushing it.

Noel sits back and crosses his leg, then his arms for good measure. “What word should I use, then?”

Donald looked back through the glass to Cathy for guidance. They waited while she considered the question or, more likely, googled it.

Another staticky click and she came through, clearly reading off her phone, “People avoid the H-word because it puts the compulsion at the center of the experience. This can be avoided through the use of people-first language—”

“People-first language,” repeats Noel. “Well, there's your problem right there. Liam's not a person.”

There's a beat of silence and then Donald gives a short, uncomfortable laugh.

–---

Any-fucking-way, here is a list of everything Liam considers part of his hoard:

When he was really little, Noddy toys; thereafter their childhood bedroom and everything in it; Noel's apartment in India House; Noel's first apartment in London; a series of very stupid hats; every fucking song Noel ever wrote for Oasis, including the ones Noel kept back to sing himself; every fuzzy layering garment he has ever clapped eyes on through a shop window; Noel's time; Noel's attention; and lastly but also firstly and everything in between: Noel himself.

1996

It was probably really fucking dangerous, flying while they set off fireworks below. But Liam was off and running before anyone guessed what he was doing, and then it was too late to even worry. It was always too late to worry about Liam.

Anyway, after a show like that, everyone kind of thought he was untouchable. He'd make the universe bend around him.

The massive crowd continued to cheer; music poured from the speakers. Noel leaned against the fence and sipped his beer, watching along with everyone else for glimpses of his brother through the explosions and smoke overhead.

His chest felt like it was bursting full of warmth and light. He might start floating any second. He wondered if this was how Liam felt all the time.

1985

C'mon, wheedled Liam.

“Not a chance.” It was the fourth time he said it, and it was growing harder with the repetition to say it casually. He tried smiling at Diane, who was sitting on the park bench drinking a lemonade and managing to look absolutely stunning as she did it. She smiled back, sorta.

Liam put his head down like an anteater and started trotting at him. It took Noel a baffled second to realize he thought he could scoop him up like that. It was really embarrassing, but it would've been even more embarrassing if he succeeded, so Noel evaded him by darting and jumping behind a tree.

So then he was hiding behind a tree from his kid brother while his potential girlfriend watched. He hated his life sometimes.

A furnace blast of air ruffled Noel's hair as Liam wound his head around the tree. Why not? He sounded plaintive in Noel's head.

People who saw them only could see the surface of things. They saw a little guy getting harassed by a massive blue-green dragon with a lazy eye. And then they looked the other way, because that's what everyone in the world did when things were happening to little guys.

“The last time we tried flying, I damn near broke me arm,” he said, pressing back again the bark like he could become one with the tree. “I said never again, and I meant it.”

I was ten. My balance is way better now. I been practicing.

“Practicing with who?” he scoffed.

Girls, mostly. But Polly Lynch let me take her guinea pig up once. I reckon if a guinea pig can manage it, so can you.

“Oh, that's just what Mam needs, you killing some poor girl and making us pariahs in the neighborhood.”

Liam nosed forward and chucked his chin with his snout. Not gonna kill nobody. Told you, I'm good at it.

“Answer's still no.”

Why not? I wanna show you things, like Black Chew Head and this one geezer's office in City Tower, you won't believe it, he's got a whole wall full of—

“You ain't supposed to be going into the city,” says Noel sharply. “How many times we gotta tell you that, you'll get in trouble. There's rules, Liam.”

Liam chucked his chin again, but more roughly this time. Noel could feel the sting of scraped skin along his neck and clapped a hand to it, grimacing and cursing.

His little brother stepped back, long tail shambling in a large circle over the park lawn as he turned his back on Noel.

Unease trickled in, too late. Noel started after him. “Liam!”

If you're not coming with, you don't get to tell me what to go.

And then he was taking off with a heavy, sulky beat of wings. Noel and Diane watched him go. He favored his right side, listing badly. Better balance his arse, thought Noel. He would've killed Noel for sure.

“What did he say?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing, I don't – I don't know. He can't talk when he's like that.”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised. “But I thought—”

“What?” he asked, real fast (too fast).

She looked at him in steady appraisal. Eventually, she shrugged and said, “Nothing. I just thought you could hear him, is all. Your mam made it sound like you could. Said you were the only one.”

Noel looked back at the sky, where Liam was only a small dot now. He was going too high.

“I'm a good guesser, is all,” he said.

2019

He didn't need the tell-tale shadow or the sound of beating wings overhead to know his brother had just left. It was obvious from the scorch marks spelling out CUNT in the lawn. The letters were large and crooked, somehow identical to his scrawl when he signed something for a fan. The T was still actively on fire in two spots.

It was just as well Sara and the kids weren't here yet and wouldn't be until the end of the week. The Hampshire house was still mostly empty. Noel was only out there to oversee the relocation of some of his more precious items (that is, his guitars).

He walked across the lawn, already hearing his wife's voice in his head: this has gone too far, we need to get a restraining order, he's dangerous, can't you see he's not well? How are we supposed to sleep like this? What about the boys, what if he takes the boys? After the things he's said and now he's over here proving he knows exactly where to find us?

The problem is, Liam will always know where to find him. There's nothing he can do about that, short of murder and/or suicide. He's only not done at least the former because the mere thought of the Cain and Abel references in all the headlines and book titles and documentaries made him disgusted.

Noel stamped out the two small fires and wiped his shoes on the grass to get the ash off. He took out his phone and made two calls standing there in the center of the lawn. The first was to his landscaper.

The second was to his mother.

2006

They had told Liam from the very beginning he needed to take special care with his voice, because of his condition; the fire was harsh on his larynx, made the cartilage more brittle. But Liam said fuck you, first just in his head, and then in Noel's, and then a few times aloud to anyone who dared tell him how to live his life over the years. And now that voice was gone: shredded and hoarse, you'd never guess what he used to be able to do with it.

“What do you mean, you're going on tour without me?” he said. They were in his local in Primrose Hill, in a corner booth. Noel had wanted to break the news somewhere familiar, so Liam wouldn't destroy the place if things went really poorly.

“It's not a tour,” he said, downplaying it like that has ever made a difference. “It's a few acoustic shows. I've always done those on the side.”

Liam shook his head. “But not like this, not as a tour.” He sat back, putting his arm over the back of the booth. His eyes traveled over the room, already seeing past Noel to the ranks of invisible enemies lying in wait.

Like a fool, Noel leaned forward to reason with him. “Look, it's to promote our album. You cannot possibly have a problem with this. I promote the album, you don't have to do nish, we both rake in the money.”

“Fuck the money,” said the man who's been a millionaire for a third of his life. “You're running off with my shoes, trying them on for size. Well, I think you'll find they're too big for you, little man.”

Noel tapped the table. “Right.” And then, to himself, “Why the fuck did I even bother.”

“Yeah, why did you?” he asked as Noel began sliding out of the booth. “I'll tell you why – you wanted to be able to say to people, I gave him fair warning. But I see through you. I got that third eyelid, brother, I'm always watching.”

He informed him, “I didn't have to tell you anything, actually. I don't need your permission to tour and, as I won't be dealing with your sulking on the road, your cooperation is also irrelevant. But I thought you deserved to hear it from me, that you might handle it like an adult and not a puffing little skink.”

For some reason, this is what cause Liam to flip his colours. His arm shot out and he grabbed Noel's wrist in his hot little hand.

He stood there looking down at it, for some reason not pulling away immediately.

“My voice is recovered from the spring, if that's what this is,” said Liam quietly. “I'm ready to go, Noel. Just name the date. I could do Knebworth tomorrow, man, you know I could.”

Despite a lifetime of proof that it wasn't any good, sometimes Noel caught himself wishing they could speak telepathically like this. Maybe it would be better, if it were these eyes he was looking into, this hand he was holding, when he lied and told him it wasn't about his voice.