#I’d hate for the story to be squandered in such a boring way

[bxriles]

Heavy JJK spoilers ahead (post ch 221). Some thoughts on our favorite OP sorcerer’s fate.

I know everyone out here is saying that Gojo will die on December 24th. I get it. It makes sense, especially knowing Gege the way we do (god that would be horrible and I would not be okay at all lmao). But like… if he dies? I feel like that’s such cheap storytelling lmao.

Killing Gojo is frustrating and not enough for me. We all know Gege hates him and wants to kill him. And I get the parallels between Gojo killing Geto and Kenjaku using Geto’s body to kill Gojo (even though this wouldn’t make sense since Kenjaku canonically has been destroyed by Six Eyes users in the past). I get it. But why not do something worse? Instead of killing him why not take his eyes?

“Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?”

He’s the strongest because of his Six Eyes. Why not just… take that away? Blind him. Destroy his identity that way.

Y’all know I love Gojo and I don’t want him to suffer, but I think that’s a more interesting narrative. Because having Kenjaku kill Gojo for the Geto parallels feels like a waste after JJK 0. We’ve already seen Gojo and Geto clash. We’ve already seen their past together. We've seen this twice now. I don’t need it a third time. And if Sukuna does it? That’s so fucking boring and stupid and so goddamn predictable. If Sukuna kills Gojo, I will be done with JJK. Gege would have spent the whole story hyping up Gojo saying how powerful he is, only to have fucking boring ass Sukuna kill him? Gojo literally says to Yuji in the first couple of chapters that he could win against Sukuna. (I know. I know. "BuT aT wHaT cOst." I don't care. I stand by it.) Sukuna has also already done the unthinkable and taken Megumi. He's already killed dozens of people. He killed Tsumiki. Whatever. We get it. Sukuna is big bad guy. WHATEVER. I would be so bored if this happened. Sukuna is a BORING villain right now. Having this boring villain take out Gojo? It's lazy, Guys. It's predictable. I want more than that. Gege is capable of more than that. I said what I said. I think it would be a waste of both characters' potential.

(Edit: I also know that it’s been foreshadowed that past users of the Six Eyes and Ten Shadows have killed each other. I get that. I still think it’s boring because Megumi is possessed by Sukuna and Sukuna is fucking boring without Yuji. So idc about the foreshadowing. It wouldn’t be Megumi—the ACTUAL holder of the Ten Shadows—killing Gojo. It would Sukuna killing him. Fucking boring and lazy.)

Blind Gojo instead. Take his eyes. Take the one thing he’s cloaked himself with his entire life—his power. Make it mean something. He is nothing without those eyes. He literally changed the world of JJK by being born because of those eyes.

So take them. Make him be just like everyone else. Make him be just another guy in the story who isn’t special.

Gojo is a tragic character who is too powerful. Make it mean something. Take away the only thing he’s worth.

Take the Six Eyes.

[swanhookheart]

Angry Grishaverse book review time!

After watching and LOVING s1 of Shadow and Bone, I read the trilogy! I was not impressed. 

Spoilers incoming for Grishaverse stuff, so if you don’t want those, don’t read on!

Watching Shadow and Bone this past weekend, I was hooked : Darklina, the lore behind the amplifiers, the Aleksander backstory… I was really impressed and hoped that this was it--that at last, I’d found a fantasy series that was going somewhere big, something I could really, thoroughly sink my teeth into.��

*Sigh* 

Then I read the books.

The reader / viewer enters the Grishaverse associating darkness with pure evil. The Fold, described early on, is shown to be this bleak, awful, ruinous place where people go to be eaten alive by volcra and hope goes to die. We therefore, naturally, associate the Darkling--who possesses the power of shadow--with that evil from the off. I’m speaking as someone who only got into the Grishaverse last Saturday. My initial thoughts were, “oh, he’s being set up to be viewed as dark and scary; this is the expectation Bardugo wants us to have so that we’ll be blown away by some great twist later. Count me in!”

But that twist never came. He was set up as evil, and he stayed evil. Surprise, he’s the Black Heretic! Surprise, he’s an abomination effectively created by Morezova’s greed! Surprise, he’s ruthless and horrible and does cruel things! Except none of those things are actually surprising, given he was SET UP from the beginning to be viewed that way. He did bad things, walked a bad walk, and talked a bad talk. I kept thinking “ah, so he’s gonna get a sweeeet redemption arc,” and then he just never did. That element of the story was predictable to a nauseating degree, and that predictability made the entire universe feel a bit flat. If the reader saw more of his backstory, had more real, logical, sound justification for why he does the things he does (like in the show, where they at least tried to paint his actions as borne of some misplaced sense of servitude / protection for the Grisha or where we saw him actively struggling at points to grapple with the darkness inside him), then maybe the trilogy wouldn’t have been such a letdown. And yes, I know about his sacrifice or whatever later on. It’s not enough.

In villains, I and probably plenty of others like to see humanity. We want to empathize with our villains to a certain extent--to understand them just a little bit--so we can fully commit to hating them when they violate our trust. The Darkling didn’t have that human, redeeming quality, though--at least, not in the books. In the books, he was just a power-hungry jackass who simultaneously didn’t want to be alone and kept trying to kill his only opportunity not to be alone. His single-mindedness, his lack of human empathy, the simplicity with which he pursued this made him seem almost stupid to me as a reader. For someone who’s lived hundreds of years, he’s kind of an idiot when it comes to other people--which, itself, almost seems incongruous with his having lived for so long. If he’d maybe had more backstory or more in his story to justify his actions, maybe he’d feel like a better villain. But atm, all I’m doing is rolling my eyes with him. I couldn’t love him because he didn’t put in any work toward being a better person. Even in the end, he doesn’t actually do the work or repent. But I also can’t hate him because the source material hasn’t given me enough actual human qualities to hate or to feel betrayed. His character just… missed the mark for me. 

As did Mal’s. Fucking MAL, oh my GOD! This dude’s literal only personality trait was loving Alina. Cool, he could track--for Alina, mostly. He could fight--for Alina. “I am become a blade”? Sir, you got a whole-ass tattoo announcing that you’re an object in this woman’s service? No WAP is worth that, and I’m speaking as a very bisexual woman. My dude, it’s weird, it’s extra, it’s just too much. I’ll go back to the Darkling for two seconds to say that, ofc, his actions were painted as problematic and misogynistic and gross. But, like, the possessiveness Mal displays with Alina kinda feels on that same level? Why are we pretending he’s better when he actively tries to keep her low, keep her powerless, and keep her his? Again, dude got a tattoo of her sigil. He was fully prepared to be the leader of her guard even if she married Nikolai just for the opportunity for some sexytimes. I know that YA is about really intense emotion, the fire of teenage hormones and stuff, but that all just felt a bit toxic. The way that his entire life revolved around her while she tried to balance the role of saint, hero, orphan, and all the things she was just felt goofy and like a wildly unhealthy dynamic. 

Their whole relationship also felt really obvious, as I guess the Darkling being revealed as the trilogy’s big bad did. It was predictable, set up to be that way from the start. There were no surprises. It was Mal, and then it was still Mal, and in the end, it was also Mal. We weren’t really shown any of what made them so drawn to each other, we were just kind of told and expected to be fine with the intensity of it. But it read as being way too much for me, and god, it kept getting worse. Again, this one felt like low-hanging fruit--low effort, lazy writing. Nothing about it actually read to me as romantic, just as too much. They didn’t so much as fall in love as just start out that way, and reading that was somewhere between boring and uncomfortable. At least with the Darkling or hell--even Nikolai--we saw some of that chemistry unfold on the page. We were shown some of what made them work the way they did. There was something underpinning their relationship, and not just “oh, they’re supposed to be together”. I mean, after all JKR’s bullshit, I feel totally fine saying fuck authorial intent. If you can’t even be bothered to actually put your shit on the page, don’t ask me to blindly accept your version canon as gospel truth. 

We could have had Deckerstar vibes, Beauty and the Beast vibes, seen light and dark come together and surprise us by actually working well together. But no, we saw a special girl lose everything that made her special and settle for some mediocre fuckboy from her hometown. We get characters that actually have the potential to be dynamic and make for a good story, but she still ends up with this bland, vanilla, trick-ass bitch? It’s a major letdown when you’ve actually been exposed to decent fictional couples, tbh.

OOF! And the ending? Oh jesus fuck, that ending. Darkling just… dies. Just like that. I read three whole books for that? I know he comes back and dies again and all, but the whole trilogy felt like it was building up to something more, something deeper and greater and more profound. He was horrible for the things he did, sure, and he deserved defeat as long as he refused to waver from his power-hungry, destructive path. But his death brought about no closure. He and Alina never actually had the fight they needed to or reached an understanding with each other. Everything is left undone, unsaid, unexplored. The ending just felt super anticlimactic on the page, and so, the trilogy as a whole fell completely short of any mark I hoped it might hit.

Did I hope Darklina would be endgame? Sure. But I’d also have been A-okay with a tragic ending if it had been done right. Did I think it would have been a lot more interesting to see a redemption arc for Darkling than just… more of the same? Or maybe Mal develop a personality outside of Alina? Absolutely. There was so much potential, and it really feels like Bardugo squandered all of it. And for what? This was nearly as disappointing as the eighth season of Game of Thrones. I probably won’t be watching future seasons if they follow the books, but I guess I’m glad for the day or so of fleeting pleasure I got when I still had hope for a properly told story. 

[constant-eggs]

I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about William on Supergirl from fellow Supercorp shippers, so I wanna talk a bit about Kara and Lena’s love interests and how they are viewed, and also about racism in the show and fandom. This has probably been done to death but I’m new to the fandom — I binge watched the show over the winter and just started using Tumblr in a real way about a month ago. So anyway, back to the men:

There’s the major three: James, Mon-El, and William. Jack is cool too — he should’ve had more than two episodes which is part of the issue I’m going to get to, but he never got to be a major player.

So let’s talk about James. Now, I liked him a lot, particularly in season 1. Of the three main love interests for Kara, he was the only one who (season 1) writers took time to establish as a character separate from her. He had hopes and a backstory (of course), and his own idealism that usually uplifted and sometimes contradicted with Kara’s. He was honest, and vulnerable, and when he made a mistake (like calling Superman against Kara’s wishes) he grew from them. Because he respected Kara, and himself. Now the chemistry between Kara and James for me felt good — it wasn’t earth shattering — but it was typical in what I’d come to expect from a heterosexual pairing. And I would argue that had the writers not done a complete 180 on Kara’s feelings for James in S2 and had let them keep growing together as characters, that the chemistry and relationship could have been really good. But they didn’t because as the writers themselves said, they’re ‘in the drama business.’ So having a healthy, supportive partner for Kara wasn’t their priority, James was sidelined, and then they never figured out what to do with his character from that moment on. Also, I do think that race played a part in the writers’ decision to change direction with their relationship, and it’s...disheartening.

Now real briefly on James with Lena: it reminded me a lot of Laurel 1 and Oliver — when they talked about each other to other people— I believed that there was love, but when they were together, I didn’t see any real spark. Even their drama wasn’t particularly interesting — so I won’t even get into it. But it’s been long enough in this post for me to get to the point of it: the fault of the deterioration of James as a character lies with the writers. They chose to sideline him, have his values constantly shift, and have his character development stagnate post S1. He could’ve had interesting stories as Guardian, could’ve worked more closely with Kara when he replaced Cat Grant, or any number of things. But his potential was squandered. And if they were so dead set on having a male love interest for Kara, he was their best option of the three.

Mon-El and Kara had chemistry. To me, it was very much sibling chemistry in nature, which is kind of funny considering that in the comics he was a pseudo brother to Superman. To be clear I’m talking about Kara and Mon-El and not Chris and Melissa who are married, because they aren’t their characters. That’s how I think he should have stayed — as an antagonistic, shallow brother type who slooowly became decent through character growth and not specifically to become Kara’s love interest. But the handful of times Mon-El did the right thing — rebelling against his parents, trying to be a hero etc. it was because he liked Kara. How boring is that? As a love interest he was subpar — and he continued to be a liar. I don’t hate him like some fans do — and I’m well aware that he was a shallow partner who owned other people on his planet, and a habitual liar. I also see that this show is fantastical in nature where I am rooting for Lena after nearly mind-enslaving the entire population just last season. And also in a universe where a primary hero — Oliver Queen, was a serial killer (as are Laurel 2, Sara Lance, and Mick Rory to name a few). So that isn’t the main reason why I don’t like Mon-El for Kara. I just feel as early Kara felt: She deserves so much better than him.

What is there even to say about William? He’s essentially the audience in character form — the chorus in an Ancient Greek play telling us how we should feel about whatever action he’s being sidelined from. If they wanted him to be endgame, he should’ve been introduced bare minimum a season earlier to give him a fair shot. He needs to be better integrated in the fold, and at this point there isn’t a lot of time to do that well.

I’m making this post though because I don’t agree with some of what I’m seeing in fandom. Yes, I too dislike Mon-El as a love interest for Kara, but I’m not going to yuck someone else’s yum. Same goes for William and James. If you see something romantic, that’s okay. If you’re a multi shipper, that’s okay too. I was into other Arrowverse shows when Karamel and Supercorp animosity was at its highest and saw some of what went on and now I see some people uniting over their mutual dislike for William. But his underdevelopment as a character is once again entirely on the writers and execs. Not Staz Nair. And @motorcyclegirlfriends has a much more nuanced post about how race plays into characters being empathized within fandom and the screen time they are allotted by writers and directors. https://motorcyclegirlfriends.tumblr.com/post/649196192472924160/what-a-lot-of-the-nice-fellow-fans-dont-harass

We shouldn’t be tearing down actors of color or characters of color out of frustration over (potentially/hopefully) queer (white) characters. We should instead be asking for them to have more well rounded stories, just as we ask for better LGBT rep — the two aren’t separate. If Supercorp doesn’t become canon it won’t be because of the subpar heterosexual romances they were given. It will be because the writers see the love story they’ve created, inadvertently or otherwise (even doubling down on it in S5) but chose to ignore it. I really hope that isn’t the case. Us fans deserve more complex, messy slowburn romances, and Supercorp could be up there with She-Ra as one of the best ever portrayed. Here’s to hoping.

[suttttton]

Elias Bouchard vs. Destiny

Febuwhump, Day 4 (alternate): Identity Reveal

***

Working at the Magnus Institute is… surprisingly normal.

At best, Elias expects to see his own terror reflected in his coworkers’ eyes. At worst, he fears they will all be like Wright, their eyes cold and monstrous and hungry. He expects to be brought into a world of darkness, to face true monsters that ordinary people never imagined existed.

Were you drawn here? Against your will?—

Instead, his job is just… paperwork. Spooky paperwork, sure, but still paperwork. He talks to a lot of people on the phone, most of whom admit that the statement they gave was just a prank or a dare or whatever. Even the people who genuinely believe their experiences were real seem… more than a little unhinged.

“It saw me through the pages, it’s coming”—

He avoids James Wright, of course. It isn’t difficult. Wright spends most of his time in his office on the third floor, only occasionally coming down to visit Research. When that happens, it’s easy enough for Elias to excuse himself for a smoke break, avoiding Wright’s eyes the entire way. Elias doesn’t understand why his coworkers don’t do the same, although he imagines it would get very crowded in the alley behind the Institute if all of Research tried to take a smoke break at once.

The first time he sees his line manager return from a meeting with Wright, Elias watches her very closely, looking for… unease. Fear. Anything to reflect the way he feels whenever he so much as catches a glimpse of Wright in the halls.

She notices him looking, and smiles at him. No sign of distress in her whatsoever.

Elias returns to his work, but the moment sticks with him. She’d just spent thirty minutes having a meeting with a monster, and she isn’t the slightest bit disturbed.

Have you ever had an experience that you would consider supernatural?—

They don’t know.

All of these people who work here, who interact with Wright every day, and none of them know. Elias is the only one who sees it. Elias is… different.

Elias doesn’t get much work done, that day.

***

Two months later, Elias’s line manager informs him that he has a performance review scheduled with Mr. Wright.

His mouth is dry. “But—I thought you did my performance reviews.” He tries for a smile, but it’s weak.

“Mr. Wright likes to do an in-person review with everyone at the end of every quarter,” she says. She notices the look on his face, and softens slightly. “It’s no big deal. They usually only take five minutes or so. He just goes over the reviews I submitted, and asks if there’s anything he can do to improve your experience here.” She rolls her eyes. “Standard management stuff.”

“Okay,” Elias says, his voice faint. He has to go into that office again? Sit across from the thing that looks out from behind James Wright’s eyes, and just—what? Pretend he isn’t terrified?

Allan’s lifeless body—

What did they do with his eyes?—

“He won’t fire you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” his line manager says. Her voice is gentle, very different from the thinly-veiled annoyance she usually addresses him with. “Wright hasn’t fired anyone the whole time I’ve been here, and your reviews are fine. You’ll be okay.”

“Right,” Elias manages.

The day of the review, Elias seriously considers going to work high.

He decides against it. Wright would know, and then he’d smile and ask Elias some question that he isn’t prepared for, that no one would be prepared for.

What are you afraid of? A very sensible fear—

Elias wonders what would happen if he just—skipped the review. It would be rescheduled, probably. He could skip it again, obviously, but he isn’t sure Wright would tolerate a farce like that for very long.

So, at 2:00pm, he climbs the stairs to Wright’s office. By now, his terror has faded to a blank numbness, an acceptance that he can’t stop whatever is about to happen. He almost feels like laughing.

“Do you enjoy your work here?” Wright asks, after he’s seated and the little introductions are complete.

“Yes,” Elias says, and it isn’t even a lie. He does enjoy the work. He enjoys the variety involved in followup, enjoys chatting with total strangers on the phone. He gets along with his coworkers, and even his line manager is more tolerable than other bosses he’s had. He’d be planning his career here, if not for James Wright’s unfortunate presence. As it is, he’s just trying to survive each day.

“Is there anything about working here that you… hate?”

Elias is not going to tell James Wright that he hates him. He’s not. That’s clearly what Wright wants, leering at him as he is, but Elias refuses to engage with these games.

“Uh—The commute,” Elias says. “It’s a bit far from my flat, and taking the tube every day isn’t exactly the height of luxury.”

“Yes, I’d imagine it would be difficult for you, dealing with the unwashed masses every day.” Wright is still smiling in that cold, slightly-bored way of his. Like what he’s just said is a normal sentence, and not—

“So many gifts, and you’ve squandered them all”—

“What?” Elias’s voice is soft now.

“Do you miss the luxury?” Wright asks, his smile curling up into something more vicious, and Elias—

“Enough! Your friend died in a tragic murder, and it’s well past time you accepted that!”—

No, no, Allan knew what was going to happen, he told me—

“You had a bad drug trip. That’s all.”—

It wasn’t—I didn’t imagine this, there was a book and—

Elias gasps, suddenly back in the present. Wright’s expression is exactly the same. Elias is trembling. This shouldn’t—Wright shouldn’t be able to—What do these questions have to do with his performance?

“Are we done here?” Elias manages, his voice soft to hide its shaking.

“Not quite,” Wright says brightly. “There’s still the matter of your past reviews.” Elias’ review forms are stacked on Wright’s desk, and Wright picks them up, flicking through them. “In general, Lydia’s feedback is very positive, but there are a few concerning things here. You chronically miss deadlines, and on a few of your cases you’ve neglected to follow very promising leads.”

“I’ll try to do better.” Elias’ voice is flat, toneless. The numbness is returning.

“See that you do,” Wright says. “I hope to see improvement by next quarter.”

Elias nods.

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Wright dismisses him, and he makes his way back downstairs. He should return to his desk, return to his caseload that he’s been largely ignoring in favor of panicking about his review.

But he—can’t.

He goes to the alley instead, lights a cigarette with trembling hands. His shaky legs won’t hold him, even when he leans against the wall, so he ends up sitting on the ground.

The first sob forces its way up his throat, and then—he’s crying.

Sobbing on the filthy ground in the alley behind his less-than-respectable workplace. Pathetic. What would Father say?

Probably, “Elias, I’ll be happy to talk to you once you get help for your drug addiction.” Christ.

While he cries, Elias tries to think of what to do. He could quit, he supposes. But he really does need this job. His bank account had been full when his parents first cut him off, and there were provisions in the trust to provide for his needs when he was still in school. Now, though, his money really is running concerningly low. He needs the paycheck.

His tears are just starting to slow when the door opens. Elias starts, turns his face away, trying to hide the fact that he’s crying while hiding from his job.

“Oh—sorry,” she says. Elias recognizes the voice, they work together in Research. He can’t quite remember her name—Megan, maybe? “I can go, if you want some privacy.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says, and his voice wobbles. If she didn’t already know he’d been crying, she definitely does now.

She sits down on the step just outside the door. “Um—are you okay?” she asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Yeah, I also like to come out here and cry when I’m feeling fine,” she says, her voice light with humor.

Elias smiles slightly, and wipes some of the wetness from his face. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I’m all ears,” she says. “Unless you really don’t want to talk about it, in which case, keep your secrets.”

Elias doesn’t respond to that. Doesn’t know how to reply, really. It would be nice, to talk to someone about it, but—It seems cruel, to force someone else into this mess. If she even believed him.

“I just—” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, this is going to sound really weird, but… We look after each other, in Research. A lot of the people who work here don’t really have support networks in our personal lives—ghost stories attract lonely people, I guess—so we try to support each other. So… if you need someone to talk to about this, you can talk to me.

Elias takes a breath. Might as well try. “Have you—noticed anything… off, about Wright?”

“Oh, you mean his whole mind-reading thing? Sure,” she says. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t take a moment to consider.

“I—yes,” Elias says, a little unbalanced. She knew? “The way he—drags up all your worst memories.”

“Oh yeah, he’s like that,” she says, wincing. “Did you just have your first performance review? Those can be kind of intense.”

He nods, uncertainly. She’s talking about this as if it’s completely normal.

“You’ll get used to it eventually,” she says. “In research, we like to make jokes about it. She wiggles her fingers at him. “'Ooh, I know everything about you,’” she says mockingly, pitching her voice down.

Elias doesn’t laugh. Just stares. “Aren’t you afraid of him?”

She laughs, really laughs, like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “What’s he gonna do, fire me? No. Why would I be afraid of him?” Then she sobers. “Are you afraid of him?”

Something sinks in Elias’s chest. He’d assumed that they didn’t know, that Elias was unique in being able to see Wright’s monstrous nature.

Turns out he’s just unique in being frightened by it.

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Just—had a bad performance review.”

She nods in commiseration, and he excuses himself not long after. Returns to his desk, his heart loud in his ears. He looks around at his co-workers, all of them so happy, so careless. Why aren’t they afraid?

Why did you heed the call?—

He doesn’t know.

He can’t trust them.

***

He asks to be transferred to Artifact Storage, and his request is accepted, albeit with some strange looks. No one requests to go to Artifact Storage.

For him, it’s infinitely preferable to Research. The monsters in Artifact Storage are acknowledged, for one. Feared, treated with caution. Not allowed to run a so-called research institute. Not joked about. For two, the turnover rate is so high that he won’t have to deal with pretend camaraderie. He knows, now, that he can’t trust any of these people. He’s on his own.

For four years, he does his work, cataloging dangerous artifacts, sending the more junior assistants to do the more dangerous tasks. He doesn’t try to be good at his job, he doesn’t want to be good at his job, but after years of working in Artifact Storage, he is by far the most senior member of the staff. He starts to pick up a few tricks. He becomes knowledgeable. People respect him.

His line manager says he’s looking to transfer to the Library, and asks if Elias would like to be recommended for the promotion. Does he want to be Head of Artifact Storage?

He should say no, but some part of him that never quite managed to kill its ambition answers for him. “I’d be honored,” he says.

***

Meetings with Wright never get easier. In four years, he manages to drag up everything Elias would rather keep hidden, everything he doesn’t want to think about. Allan is a popular subject, as are his parents. And there’s always—

He cannot move. He cannot scream. What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias doesn’t get used to it, and when Wright schedules a meeting with him to discuss his forthcoming promotion, Elias dreads it just as much as that very first performance review.

“I am very impressed with your progress,” Wright says, steepling his fingers over his desk.

“Thank you,” Elias says.

“Nearly five years in Artifact Storage,” Wright says. “I wouldn’t have guessed it, but perhaps I should have. You’re not a brave man by any means, but what does that matter, when you’re running from the most frightening thing you can imagine?”

What are they doing to his eyes?—

Elias swallows. There’s something heavy in the air. He always feels watched, in the Institute, in Wright’s office, but this is—different, somehow. Closer.

“If you were more curious, you actually might have guessed it. If you’d looked into the history of the Institute, investigated the men who preceded me in this position. You might have noticed certain similarities. You’re smart enough to have put the pieces together, but alas.”

—squandered—

“You never were the curious sort, were you? You were more interested in self-preservation than answers. Keeping your distance from anyone who might drag you away from your… destiny.”

Wright stands, and Elias flinches. “I-I don’t—” This is wrong. Something is wrong.

This is the place I know I should be—

But—

“What did you imagine was calling you here?” Wright says, and now he’s close, too close, towering over him. Elias wants to stand, want to retreat, but he doesn’t—He can’t move—

Wright places his hands on the two arms of Jonah’s chair, trapping him. Elias shrinks back, as far as he can get. “Did you think it was something noble, that you were destined to be a hero of light, to put an end to the sickness of this place? You would drive a knife into my eyes, killing the monster and setting everyone free?”

He doesn’t know what he thought. He thought he was destined for something better, to be something more than other people.

“You will be,” Wright says, leaning over him, too close. “Have you figured it out yet?”

He shakes his head wordlessly, a sob gasping from his throat.

Wright smiles. “James Wright didn’t either.”

***

When the thing that now controls his body takes over the Magnus Institute, they all think, nepotism at its finest.

Elias understands why he’s here, now. Understands the thing that called him here. Understands the many paths he could have taken, to reach a different end. Too late.

Elias’ eyes are carved out of his still-breathing body, and the Eye feasts on latent terror, cultivated so perfectly, for so long.

Elias is replaced, and no one misses him. He himself ensured that no one who worked with him knew anything about him. And everyone else is dead already.

James Wright is discarded. Elias Bouchard is taken.

Jonah Magnus lives on.

[tasteslikemolecules]

8 12 13 for the spn asks. Please tag me @boykingsofhell so I can see your response <3

@boykingsofhell  - I have to do this in two parts because it got really long...

8. If you could remove one season of supernatural, which one would it be and why?

I would not remove any season of Supernatural if given the choice. I actually think it's an overall good show with some bonkers storylines and some boring episodes, but there's things I appreciate in every season. So if it was a choice, I'd remove none. But if I had to go with one:

My least favourite season to watch is probably the first one. If my friend hadn't told me “Just make it through the first season, I promise it will get good after“ I would have bailed on the show as quickly as I did back when it first aired. Every re-watch I have to force myself a little bit not to skip some of it. Partly it's just a show finding its groove - no one would bat an eye at wanting to skip the first season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, everyone knows that one was wonky as hell, but somehow the SPN fandom is really protective of the first season's impeccability.

I'm not a big fan of the strict Monster of the Week format and I miss having an overarching story (”finding Dad“ is little more than the initial premise to get Sam to hunt again), but mostly I just don't like the genre much: it' so much more of a horror crime show than the dark fantasy one it becomes later on. I get annoyed by all the “woman screams her heart out“ moments and the other horror tropes. The scenery is great, the colouring is beautiful and the relationship between Sam and Dean is fascinating but the actual plots of the episodes? The dialogue? Phew. There's outliers: “Faith“ is great and so is “Nightmare“ (thanks Sera Gamble), and I like “The Bunders“ but there's hardly any of the stuff that I really love about the show, there's only hints of something good to come. 

I'm not saying it's a bad season - I'd go as far and say there is only one really bad episode (monster trucks...), but it's a consistent season of a kind of show I wouldn't care about if it hadn't gone on. It feels dated in ways that season 2 and 3 don't (not just Dean's outright misogyny, although I always find that kind of, um, honest?). But I also care less about the season because I care less about Sam and Dean. I don't even really like Sam yet. I got sympathy for him, sure, but they're still almost... too normal? Narrative wise it makes sense: They're at a point where they had a fucked up childhood and youth, but they still could get away and be kind of normal. Dean could in theory become a regular hunter and Sam could have his normal life away from it all, and they'd have a history of growing up too close to a sibling, but it would be kind of fine. It all feels pretty safe, relatively speaking. No hell traumas. No dying for each other. I guess I need the stakes higher then they ever are in season 1.

But of course I couldn't remove season 1 because there would be a gaping hole where backstory should be. So unless I just got a better first season in return (and I'm not sure what that would even look like) I'd have to go with removing season 14. 

I'd mourn some episodes and some Sam and Cas interaction specifically, but I don't like the overarching story and I think it's the strangest most muddled season of all. Almost everything I want to see happens in between the episodes, as if someone forgot to put the camera on the interesting stuff that IS happening somewhere off-screen.

"Stranger in a Strange Land" was a great opener for a season that doesn't exist. I didn't mind Jensen's Michael as much as some people did, and I would have liked them to explore that for a little bit instead of, well, I'm not sure what they actually went for, because it's so incohesive. 

I really like when the show seperates Sam and Dean for a bit, and the breathing space it gives while also giving a new tension – because you know they must find their ways back to each other. And I wish the show had been more courageous, in any season really but especially here, to allow that seperation to go on for at least a few episodes (I guess they did do a slighlty longer seperation with Soulless Sam but that was still kindof/partly Sam working with Dean). 

I love season 13 a lot and I would have loved to see and know more about the time between 13 and 14. I'm fascinated by the glimpses we get of Sam desperate to get Dean back and not sleeping while running a hunter basis in the bunker and training people and feeling bad about failing Jack (as Mary says: parental guilt). Season 14 has so many starting points and so much potential and squanders almost all of it. Lucifer and Nick – why did we get so many pointless Nick scenes when the real horror for Sam was cut so short? Most of all, I hate how they handled Dean and Jack. They wanted to have their cake and eat it too. They wanted to say Dean loved Jack “like a father“ but he also wanted to kill him from the first episode to the last. And they didn't want to work on making that plausible at all. I can only watch the whole thing and make any sense of it if I assume Dean is lying for the benefit of Sam whenever he claims he has any feelings of Jack being “family“. That when Jack dies, he's sad because he knows Sam and Cas are hurting and also because Dean feels like he failed a task – not because he cared about Jack as a person. Season 14 painted Dean like an antagonist and villian all the time, in so many ways, and then always tried to take it back in the last second. It makes me furious to think about it. On a positive note: all of the flaws make season 14 perfect for fix its. There’s like 10 great plot seeds somewhere and a lot of angst and anger and a lot of weird weird Sam and Dean shit that I love the implications of, but it’s buried under horrible story telling and weird coloring. It’s like the writers were all playing a round of Telephone. 

And, and I will repeat this until eventually I'll find someone who agrees with me: the music in season 14 was so distractingly bad. Can't hear the Anthem of Europe anymore without getting semi-war flashbacks to that 'we're going to beat Michael' walk in the car park (?).

[occidentaltourist]

I hate the writing for Lena in s5. It's gone from "out of character" to "blantant character assassination" and she's basically become an entirely different character from the one they developed from s2-s4 and, in isolation, it's a character that I really don't like. If Lena's storyline this season had instead been given to a brand new character who we had no established background with, like Andrea or William, they'd be the most unlikeable character on the show... (1/?)

They had so much potential to tell an emotional and nuanced story about trust and forgiveness and Kara and Lena relearning how to be friends and what they mean to each other in the wake of The Reveal from the finale of s4 and instead they chose to just throw Lena’s character off a cliff. And it’s clear that some of the writers still really know how to write great material for Kara and Lena, but whoever is in charge just really had their mind set on this ridiculous mind-control plotline… (2/?)We could have explored how apology and forgiveness isn’t an isolated action, but a journey Kara and Lena needed to go on together and that emotional story set against the build-up to and aftermath from Crisis could have really explored what losing each other means to both characters… (3/?)Imagine how much more emotionally impactful Lena’s outburst at Kara in 5x07 would be if it had just happened in Lena’s or Kara’s apartment after we had watched Lena’s frustration simmering for the previous few episodes instead of it being in the context of Lena stealing Myriad from the Fortress after manipulating Kara into taking her there in the first place. Like, I can’t even believe I’m writing that sentence about the actions of the character I loved from her previous 3 seasons on the show(4)Lena’s actions in s5 have been so cartoonishly ridiculous. If it weren’t for the great content this fandom continues to produce and the fact that I love Katie and most of the other cast members, I’d have completely given up on this show after they made it clear that they were dead-set on destroying Lena Luthor as a character, regardless of any of her established history from the show… (5)

————–

This is really well said, thank you. :) I don’t have anything to add except I think many fans share your frustration and disappointment. Myself included.

From a storytelling perspective the other unforgivable part of it is how repetitive and boring the storyline is. That sneak peek is practically a carbon copy of a scene we already saw in 5a - the only difference is Lex’s presence. A big honking sign that this story actually only has a couple of episodes’ worth of substance, and the rest is filler and stretcher to force an artificial separation between Kara and Lena until almost the end of the season. Imagine all the years of story and relationship and character development, squandered on such a bad post-reveal story. Their minds!

Also: imagine being a writer/producer and having at your disposal the Luthor siblings! Before this season I’d have bet money there’s no way you can go wrong. Even the setup - Lena loses everything she worked to achieve - is gold. But they’ve managed the impossible: turn gold into garbage. Treasure into trash. Diamonds into dust. You get the picture. ;)

[rachelkaser]

Stay Golden Sunday: The Truth Will Out

Rose’s daughter visits, leading to the revelation of a secret about Rose’s late husband, Charlie. Blanche becomes obsessed with a murder trial.

Picture It...

Rose is making a snack in the kitchen in preparation for the arrival of her daughter and granddaughter -- a Maple Syrup Honey Brown Sugar Molasses Rice Krispies Log. Blanche enters, all fired up about a society murder in the news called the Duncan Osgood Trial. She believes he’s guilty because the late Mrs. Tippi Osgood was found at the bottom of their lake clutching her husband’s dicky.

ROSE: *about the Log* Some people put flour in it, but I think that makes it too heavy. My kids always liked it this way. DOROTHY: *choking* Tell me, Rose: Do any of your kids still have their own teeth?

Sophia, meanwhile, is sour about having to room with Dorothy while Rose’s daughter Kirsten and granddaughter Charley are in town. When Rose admits to being nervous about the visit, though, Sophia is the first to ask why. Rose says she has to show Kirsten, who she’s made executor, her will, and is worried what her daughter will think, but doesn’t elaborate on what she thinks will surprise Kirsten.

Ahead of Kirsten and Charley’s arrival, Blanche confides in Dorothy that she’s suspicious of Rose’s reticence regarding her will. She’s mostly basing it on the Osgood case, as Duncan Osgood was his rich wife’s heir. Kirsten and Charley arrive -- Kirsten says Charley is going to a kid’s astronaut program while she reviews Rose’s “estate papers.” They gift Blanche and Dorothy their own Maple Syrup Honey Brown Sugar Molasses Rice Krispies Logs.

BLANCHE: *aside to Dorothy* What are you going to do with yours? DOROTHY: It’s a log. I’m going to burn it.

All four Girls are having dinner with Kirsten and Charley, and Rose and her daughter go to the kitchen with dishes. Kirsten effuses about Rose’s friends, and says she now understands why Rose moved in with them despite (as far as Kirsten knows) not needing to save the money. Rose decides to show Kirsten her will, and visibly braces herself. Kirsten is confused, as Rose’s will shows she doesn’t have much money to leave. Blanche and Dorothy drift into the kitchen and overhear Kirsten asking how Rose could have burned through Charlie’s “fortune,” which Rose says happened because of bad investments. Kirsten leaves in tears. Blanche and Dorothy don’t believe that’s what happened, but Rose storms out without answering their questions.

Later that night, the Girls meet up in the kitchen. Rose won’t explain what’s going on with her will, but she asks what the others think about lies. Blanche and Dorothy tell stories of their own previous lies. When they try to reassure Rose that lies aren’t the worst thing, Rose says her lie to Kirsten has Kirsten hating her. Sophia tells her to tell the truth, but Rose says she can’t let Kirsten find out the truth about her late husband Charlie and leaves the kitchen. Blanche, in full detective fervor, wants to know what secret Rose is hiding, but Dorothy says it’s not their business.

BLANCHE: No, of course it’s our business! We’re friends. We’re roommates. I have no secrets from you. My whole life is an open book! SOPHIA: Your whole life is an open blouse.

Charley is in Rose’s room, dressed up in jewelry, a snazzy hat, heels, and what looks like her grandmother’s cardigan. Rose enters, and Charley says she has a date [side note: I have no idea if the date she’s talking about is with a real boy she met at camp, or if she’s talking about an imaginary person; the episode doesn’t really make it clear]. Rose helps her put on her makeup, and Charley says the boy reminds her of her grandfather, in that he’s very rich. Rose is taken aback when Charley the Second says that’s all she knows about Charlie the First.

In Dorothy’s room that night, Sophia leaves in frustration as Dorothy won’t stop tossing and turning. Rose enters and offers to swap. When she lays down, she tells a silent and presumably sleeping Dorothy that she was willing to let her lie to Kirsten continue. But now she realizes that lying to her daughter is effectively lying to her granddaughter, and she’s going to come clean in the morning. She tells Dorothy she loves her and to sleep well. After a few seconds of silence...

DOROTHY: Oh thank god, I thought you’d never shut up.

In the morning, Blanche reveals the outcome of the Osgood trial: Shockingly, Duncan was innocent, and the butler and maid were framing him. Rose catches Kirsten and tells her they need to talk. She insists on Blanche and Dorothy hearing the truth as well: Charlie, her husband, didn’t leave her a fortune to squander. Rose says that he was a great man, but not a great businessman. But since he traveled so often, she let her children think he was financially successful so they’d think as highly of them as she did. She apologizes to Kirsten, who, knowing the truth, forgives her mother.

After they leave, Blanche is a little put-out that the big secret was so mundane, given she’s been so wrapped up in the Duncan Osgood mystery. But she does come around, saying that things seem to have turned out alright since Rose and Kirsten no longer have a big secret between them, and an innocent man didn’t go to jail for murder. Dorothy’s response to her good humor?

DOROTHY: That’s easy for you to say. You’re not at the bottom of a lake clutching someone’s dicky.

“How practical: A snack you can panel your den with!”

Before I say anything else, I want to dedicate this post to Bridgette Andersen, the child actress from this episode. Andersen struggled finding acting work in her teens and died at age 21 of an opioid overdose. As always, Hollywood is an absolutely brutal place for young women. Rest in Peace, Bridgette. You’ll always be our little Charley.

I’m realizing, as I continue this series, how hard it is to cover episodes I consider less-than-great. We’ve all got those episodes in the Golden Girls rotation we skip when they come up, and while this episode has its good points, the A-plot is such a relentless downer that, like my last two-slice episode, I had a hard time watching this one enough times to finish the analysis.

It isn’t just boring -- it’s kind of infuriating. The episode makes it seem like the major conflict is Rose lying to Kirsten, but it’s actually Kirsten being upset with her mother for not giving her a lot of money. If seeing Rose sob, “I lost it all, I’m sorry,” like a child being scolded before Kirsten stomps out in a huff doesn’t raise your hackles, then I don’t know what will. No matter how hard the writers try to position this as a moral quandary (even going so far as to put poor little Charley in the middle), the whole thing feels very unfair to Rose.

BLANCHE: Oh boy, I’d love to put some surprises in my will. Like leaving a small remembrance to each of the men who’s brought some special joy or pleasure to my life. DOROTHY: And where would they read that will, Blanche? The Astrodome?

I’ve never been in a position to inherit a large sum of money, so I couldn’t relate even if I wanted to, but I think Kirsten comes off very unsympathetically here. She softens later when she learns that Charlie never left any money to begin with, and that Rose had been inflating stories of his being a success, meaning the actual issue is dodged. But when you take a step back and look at what Kirsten was expecting from her mother, it’s pretty unreasonable.

In the first place, the episode doesn’t make it exactly clear how large a fortune Kirsten thought her father had. I mean, he sold insurance; he didn’t found IBM. She’s also ashamed -- her word -- that Rose managed to “piddle away” a fortune in 15 years, as if 15 years is a brief span of time. Rose is a widow without a lot of career training who works a low-wage job. Even if Charlie did leave behind an 8-figure sum, Rose would have had to burn through a lot of it just to stay alive.

Also, Kirsten kind of contradicts herself in the scene with the will, because she mentions that she expected her mother to be living a more independent lifestyle than she was, and yet she gets upset when Rose apparently spent the money for her own purposes. “I expected you to be spending daddy’s money... wait, you spent daddy’s money?!”

BLANCHE: Oh honey, you didn’t eat your Brussels sprouts. CHARLEY: I don’t like Brussels sprouts. SOPHIA: Neither do I. *opens her purse* Put them in here with mine.

But even if Charlie the First had left behind a fortune, and even if Rose had spent it frivolously, I don’t think that’s Kirsten’s business. It would have been Rose’s money and she could spend it however she likes. I get that Kirsten was hoping that the money would go to her, her siblings, and the grandchildren, but the only “crime” she can accuse Rose of is not being as wealthy as she was supposed to be. That’s not reasonable -- that’s the villain’s motivation in Northanger Abbey.

The timeline is also very confusing here. This episode reaffirms that Charlie Nylund has been dead for 15 years. Given that Charley looks like she’s at least 12, that means Kirsten has to be at least in her early thirties. The episode doesn’t make it clear whether Rose talked up her husband’s financial success while he was alive. So the options are either A) Rose somehow managed to lie to her children about the size of their dad’s pocketbook while said dad was still alive -- which, unless they lived in the I Love Lucy show, someone would have unraveled by now -- or B) Rose felt the need to lie to her adult children after their father died so they wouldn’t think he was a loser. Why do neither of those sound particularly plausible?

Speaking of continuity, what exactly are the sleeping arrangements in this episode? Sophia opens the episode complaining about having to sleep with Dorothy, and says she’s giving up her room for Rose’s family. But later Rose swaps with her and Sophia says “I’m taking my bed back.” Also, Charley’s scene with Rose is in Rose’s room. So Kirsten and Charley are staying in Rose’s room, Rose is staying in Sophia’s room, and Sophia is staying in Dorothy’s room? These musical bedrooms are making me dizzy.

SOPHIA: *getting out of Dorothy’s bed* That’s it, I’m outta here! DOROTHY: Ma, what’s the matter? SOPHIA: I can’t sleep! All night long, tossing and turning -- I’d get more rest on Space Mountain!

I don’t want this analysis to be nothing but complaints, though. There are some decent jokes in this episode, and the B-plot of Blanche getting way too involved in a sensational murder trial definitely feels very in-character for her. We all know Blanche loves the drama, and I love episodes where she gets to show character traits that don’t revolve around men and sex. Having said that, when Charley says she’s going to astronaut camp because she wants to “meet boys who want to be astronauts,” Blanche’s big smile and conspiratorial whisper of “Me too!” is adorable.

The funniest thing about the episode actually doesn’t happen in the episode itself. In the scene with Charley, where Rose helps her put on her makeup, child actress Bridgette Andersen wasn’t available for the initial rehearsal (I’ve heard different reports -- she was either sick or in school that day). So stage manager Doug Tobin took her place, and he made the colossal mistake of trying to improvise a joke while reading from the script. When he reads Charley’s line about going on a date with “Robert,” he adds with a giggle, “He’s the PA!” referring to production assistant Robert Spina.

Betty White visibly pauses when he goes off-script, and, even in the grainy film footage of this moment, you can see she gets a look on her face like, “Oh, you done did it now, boy.” She then picks up a makeup puff on the table, which looks like it was dipped in flour, and covers Tobin’s face in white powder. By the time she’s done slapping him with this giant puff, it looks like she slammed a pie in his face. Here’s the moment caught on camera.

Doug Tobin said in an interview with Golden Girls Forever that he realized later that, even though he kind of provoked Betty by going off-script, the whole thing was set-up ahead of time. As he said, they didn’t usually put film in the camera during these rehearsals, so someone knew what was going to happen and made sure to film it. He also said he looks back on it and wonders what he was thinking, trying to mess with Betty White. As he says, “The woman could destroy me in a second!” And she did, Doug. She did.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰 (two cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite Part of the Episode

SOPHIA: *interrupting Rose’s scene with Charley* Are you two coming? The spaghetti is getting cold. ROSE: We’ll be there in a minute, Sophia. We’re in the middle of a makeup lesson. SOPHIA: I hope the kid can help you. You wear more rouge than Miss Piggy.

[joeinfurnari]

My Dinner with Andre

My Dinner with Andre might be one of the most difficult movies for many viewers to watch. The artsy crowd would call it minimalist while the more lowbrow among us would say it’s boring! There’s just so little to it that there is a valid case for both. The story is simply a struggling young playwright, Wally agrees to meet an acquaintance, Andre, for dinner at a nice restaurant in decaying New York city and conversation ensues. The end. But like so many things in life, My Dinner with Andre gives you so much more if you really listen closely. I recently watched it again and I forgot just how great it is and how it continues to speak to us today.

It’s so stark and unapologetic about being without plot that it’s become the subject of many pop culture parodies. I know there is a Simpson’s reference to it but I most enjoyed the episode of Community that spoofs it. You may think that this comes from a place of common dislike for the movie but it’s actually the opposite. The parodies just prove how influential and beloved it is. Why? For me, the appeal is the conversation itself. It’s been celebrated for being a complete fiction that does a great job at coming across as a documentary but that’s just appreciation on a formal level. It’s not just that they had a conversation that’s important, it’s what they talk about that matters. The content of that discussion is so important, the writers and filmmaker felt it merited being the subject of a film without any distraction. To say that Louis Malle created My Dinner with Andre for the iconoclasm alone, misses the point.

The two men seated at dinner are artists/playwrights and catch up on the long period since they last encountered each other. They’re not really friends and Wally even debates cancelling the dinner before ultimately opting to go. He’s a working writer and artist making ends meet in New York City while Andre has had a long hiatus from creative life spent on travel and self examination. Wally confirms their community speculation that Andre has money that allows his adventures. Andre at first spends dominates the conversation with anecdotes about mutual acquaintances and talks about some of the retreats and workshops he’s attended recently. Andre has dropped out of the arts and has been on a personal quest to find himself after becoming disillusioned with his life.

In the time since they last spoke Andre describes a crisis in his creative life. He left the theater and traveled to Poland where he spent time with strangers in the woods creating experimental theater. He didn’t speak or understand Polish and they didn’t understand English but the time spent together was transformative. What began for him as creative exploration in the woods forced him to act as himself and in so doing he was forced to examine his life and how he acts when he plays himself:

So, you follow the same law of improvisation…which is that you do whatever your impulse, as the character, tells you to do…but in this case, you are the character. So there's no imaginary situation to hide behind…and there's no other person to hide behind. What you're doing, in fact, is you're asking those same questions…that Stanislavsky said the actor should constantly ask himself as a character:

Who am I? Why am I here? Where do I come from, and where am I going?

But instead of applying them to a role, you apply them to yourself.

Andre tells more stories of his spiritual and creative adventures. For him, his journey to this dinner has been full of magic, mystery, serendipity and travel to exotic locations including India and even a Saharan Oasis. The restaurant is quite nice but it is still remarkably banal compared to Andre’s monstrous hallucinations and descriptions of his process of personal exploration. It culminates in a description of being buried alive in Montauk, NY. From that point on, Andre becomes surprised by his own reactions to things in his life. He even begins to look at himself and the sort of person who would spend his time the way he has. People in his life who he called friends, repulse him. Figures on television appear to be objectively horrible people. He says,

And I suddenly had this feeling I was just as creepy as they were…and that my whole life had been a sham…

…

I mean, I really feel that I'm just washed up, wiped out. I feel I've just squandered my life.

Moments later he goes on to say,

Well, you know, I may be in a very emotional state right now, Wally.…but since I've come back home I've just been finding the world we're living in…more and more upsetting.

It’s as though Andre has a new perception of the world that is in stark contrast to his former self. He’s alone in this perspective until he sees a woman working in the theater who recognizes the trouble on his face. Where everyone else he encountered commented on how great he looked, this woman somehow knew by looking at him, the emotional state he was in. Because of this woman’s recent loss of her mother, she was able to see him clearly. Andre says,

She didn't know anything about what I'd been going through. But the other people, what they saw was this tan, or this shirt…or the fact that the shirt goes well with the tan.

So they said, " Gee, you look wonderful." Now, they're living in an insane dreamworld.

They're not looking.

That seems very strange to me. Right, because they just didn'ts ee anything, somehow.…except, uh, the few little things that they wanted to see.

All of this has resonated with me very personally. I similarly feel as though my perspective on the world has shifted and it has made me incompatible with things as they are and people who aren’t looking. It’s as though my prior life was a dream, honestly. When I think of how I thought about the world and other people for most of my life, I also hate that prior self. I agree with Andre that that earlier version of myself inhabited an insane dreamworld. Andre describes it using the example of his dying mother. Although she was terminally ill and appeared only minutes away from death, the specialist was beaming at all the progress she was making. For this doctor, he had so narrowed his goals/perception to her arm that any healing on that front was cause for celebration. Insane.

I mean, we're just walking around in some kind of fog. I think we're all in a trance. We're walking around like zombies. I don't…I don't think we're even aware of ourselves or our own reaction to things.

We…We're just going around all day like unconscious machines…and meanwhile there's all of this rage and worry and uneasiness…just building up and building up inside us.

And later, Andre continues to describe this state of mind:

Isn't it amazing how often a doctor…will live up to our expectation of how a doctor should look? When you see a terrorist on television, he looks just like a terrorist. I mean, we live in a world in which fathers…or single people, or artists…are all trying to live up to someone's fantasy…of how a father, or a single person,or an artist should look and behave.

They all act as if they know exactly how they ought to conduct themselves…at every single moment…and they all seem totally self-confident.

For two men involved in theater, they are approaching the idea that who we fashion ourselves to be, is selected from clearly defined character behaviors and appearance. For an actor, it must be disturbing for there to be no leap between the actor and the character. Why is it that someone who adopts the role of artist in real life, chooses to look like what we expect? As average people in our world, we’re acting our roles as they have been defined for us by someone else. This should be alarming to everyone and not just Andre and Wally.

I mean, we just put no value at all on perceiving reality. I mean, on the contrary, this incredible emphasis that we all place now.…on our so-called careers…automatically makes perceiving reality a very low priority…because if your life is organized around trying to be successful in a career…well, it just doesn't matter what you perceive or what you experience. You can really sort of shut your mind off for years ahead, in a way. You can sort of turn on the automatic pilot.

How many of us are doing this right now? I did it for many years, always overlooking the here and now for some future reward that all of it was building towards. I also think if your focus is on a career, it’s less on the experience and wisdom needed to fully embody that role. This is why this is such a great film. It may not wow you with realistic explosions but it challenges you to question your view on your life and your world. You shouldn’t be content with the way things are. If you are, you are part of a very fortunate few and you may be overlooking much of the world to do so.

people's concentration is on their goals.…in their life they just live each moment by habit.

…

And if you're just operating by habit…then you're not really living. I mean, you know, in Sanskrit, the root of the verb " to be".…is the same as " to grow" or " to make grow. "

This is something I think about a lot. I live as a cartoonist dedicated to writing and drawing and designing and promoting and tweeting and posting and editing etc. in a driving need to produce, produce, produce. Am I really living? I don’t think so. It’s okay to admit it. This wasn’t a world of my creation but if I’m alive and active in it, I can change it. This film gave me a way to understand the things that I’ve gone through over the last few years. Without art, I wouldn’t have evidence that others have been where I stand. I feel less alone and more hopeful.

Wally talks about the need for escapism and comfort from art against the harsh reality of every day life. The choice is to create art that is comforting but for all its warmth, fails to acknowledge reality and might contribute to a collective disengaging with reality and most importantly, each other.

…we're starving because we're so cut off from contact with reality…that we're not getting any real sustenance,'cause we don't see the world. We don't see ourselves. We don't see how our actions affect other people.

This is heady stuff, for sure. All of this is to get us thinking about the nature of our lives and really see the things we’ve chosen for ourselves. To truly be free is to be able to think outside the characters and roles defined for us…even the ones we think we chose but didn’t create. Only by looking at ourselves honestly and as objectively as possible can we see how far from our own humanity we have come. Andre went through a personal crisis in which he went through a dramatization of his own death and rebirth. The fresh eyes this has given him as illuminated a very dark reality. There are no fancy distractions in this film because it is a battle cry for humanity’s future. Under the guise of a polite conversation about things most average people would discount as having no bearing on reality is actually about a fundamental reality that has changed without our conscious consent. His advise:

Get out of here.

…

the 1960s.…represented the last burst of the human being before he was extinguished…and that this is the beginning of the rest of the future, now…and that from now on there'll simply be all these robots walking around���feeling nothing, thinking nothing. And there'll be nobody left almost to remind them.…that there once was a species called a human being…with feelings and thoughts…and that history and memory are right now being erased…and soon nobody will really remember.…that life existed on the planet.

[the-girl-in-the-band-tshirt]

Captain Swan Secret Santa 2018

Hello, hello, @downeystarkjr! It is I, your Captain Swan secret Santa New Year’s baby! And with that, let me apologize profusely for how late this is. *facepalm*

I tried so hard to plot out a story based on what you said you wanted to see, but having no exposure to Zorro (*hides*), that was tough. And I just generally couldn’t come up with something to match your wishes that would satisfy. But then - BUT THEN you mentioned one of your favorite movies is 10 Things I Hate About You, and it just so happens that’s one of my all-time favorite movies AND I’ve been dying to write Captain Swan into that movie for a while now. So I started writing. And I kept writing. And I wrote some more. And this @cssecretsanta2k18 fic got much longer than I planned it to be. Oh, and there are a few details in there catered to you, and I hope those make you smile. :)

So it’s been drafted for a bit now, but the editing process is proving slower. My beta is my lovely friend @ohmakemeahercules, who I have to thank here because, dang, she’s put up with a lot from me. And she’s fabulous! And this fic would absolutely not be near as readable as it is now without her (and it’s not even done being edited yet - she’s that amazing!). And we will continue working on this thing to give you the best gift it can be. However, I didn’t want you to have to wait any longer, so here’s a partially edited story for you! When it is fully edited, I’ll make another post on here, and I’ll also post it to ao3 at that point. Until then, I hope I can keep talking to you! You and I, apparently, have a lot in common, and I’d love to get to know you better! 

I hope you’re not too disappointed it’s not exactly what you asked for. Here goes...

“What did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?” Mr. Pendragon crossed his arms and leaned against the chalkboard as he scanned his classroom for any sign of intellectual thought.

“I loved it. It was so romantic.” That was Ashley, a sweet girl who worked two jobs after school to help her family make ends meet. But she treated Hemingway like a fairytale.

“Romantic?” Scoffed Emma Swan, the opinionated and sarcastic girl seated in the back row. Mr. Pendragon squeezed his eyes shut, already feeling a headache blooming. “Hemingway was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.”

Nearly every student in the room rolled their eyes at her.

“As opposed to a bitter, self-righteous bitch who has no friends?” Mr. Pendragon rolled his eyes this time as Neal Gold, the rich kid bully, chimed in.

“Pipe down, Gold,” the teacher stepped in.

Emma Swan fumed at Neal from her seat before turning back to face the front of the room. “I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time. What about Sylvia Plath or Charlotte Bronte or Simone de Beauvoir?”

Suddenly, everyone in the class jerked their heads toward the door as Killian Jones walked in, leather jacket despite the warm temperature outside, no books, and late as usual. He scratched behind his ear as he looked around the classroom.

“What did I miss?” He asked in a British accent.

Before anyone else could answer, Emma spoke up. “Just the oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education.”

Killian nodded, muttering a, “good,” before leaving the room. Mr. Pendragon tried to call after him, but it was no use.

Turning back to the class, Mr. Pendragon addressed Emma. “Ms. Swan, I want to thank you for your point of view.” He paused as Emma sent a smirk Neal’s way. Just when she felt validated, he added, “I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper middle-class suburban oppression. It must be tough.” At that, Emma slumped back into her seat, a scowl returning to her face.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Mr. Pendragon headed to the front of the classroom. “Go to the office. I don’t need to deal with this right now.”

“Mr. Pendragon! What?!”

“You heard me.”

Emma huffed out a breath as she left the room, but not before knocking Neal on the side of his head to stop his snickering.

“Emma Blanchard,” Ms. Perky, the guidance counselor, addressed the student walking into her office, “why am I not surprised to see you again?”

“It's Swan. Emma Swan. I'm adopted.” She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, bored with the routine. Ms. Perky made a disapproving noise and proceeded to type on her computer, not even looking Emma's way.

“Your father is a Blanchard. Your sister is a Blanchard. It says ‘Blanchard’ on the roster and in the system,” Ms. Perky reminded Emma.

“And I'm a Swan.”

Ms. Perky paused, grinning to herself as she glanced between her mug and Emma, who raised her eyebrows waiting for an explanation. “Swan,” she pointed to her swan-printed mug. “Swan,” she pointed at Emma while laughing out loud. Emma nodded overdramatically as she waited for the guidance counselor to get down to business. “So I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Pendragon’s class again.”

“Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action.”

“The point is people see you as somewhat-”

“Tempestuous?”

“‘Heinous bitch’ is the term used most often. “You might want to work on that.”

Emma’s lips slightly upturned. She was almost seemed impressed with herself, despite the unflattering connotation.

Ms. Perky went back to typing as Emma waited for her dismissal. The counselor sighed and lowered her glasses before a tired “thank you” was uttered.”

Emma grabbed her backpack from the floor. She faced Ms. Perky and said, with extreme sarcasm,  “as always, thank you for your excellent guidance.” She exited the room without another word.

That afternoon,  Emma and her best friend, Lily, waited in Emma’s car for her younger sister, Mary Margaret. However, Mary Margaret was more interested in catching the eye of Neal Gold, the most popular guy in senior year. She and her best friend, Tamara, walked by him for the fourth time that afternoon trying to get noticed. Fourth time was the charm, as Neal called out, “looking good, ladies.” Tamara sent Neal a predatory grin before leading Mary Margaret away from the boy before she started giggling and making a fool of herself in front of him.

“They’re out of reach, even for you, Gold.” Felix, another senior, said.

Neal glared at his friend. “No one’s out of reach for me.”

“You want to put money on that?”

Neal shook his head, still watching the girls walk away. “Money I’ve got. This I’m going to do for fun.”

Meanwhile, Neal wasn’t the only guy with his eye on Mary Margaret.

“Who’s that guy?” David Nolan, a new kid to Storybrooke High, asked his tour guide, August Booth.

“Neal Gold. He’s rich. He’s a model. And he’s a moron.”

“A model?” To be honest, Neal didn’t strike David as a model.

“Eh,” August shrugged. “Mostly regional stuff.  But he’s rumored to have a tube sock ad coming out.”

David gave August a look that screamed, “really?,” to which August just nodded. They both laughed.

“Man, just look at her. Is she always so-”

“Clueless? Airheaded? Into herself?” In truth, August didn’t really know Mary Margaret well, but she was easily the most popular girl in the school.

“Don’t say that about her. There’s more to her than you think. I mean, look at the way she smiles. And look at her eyes, man. She’s totally pure. You’re missing what’s there.”

“No, David. What’s there is a bratty little princess wearing a strategically planned sundress to make guys like us realize we can never touch her, and guys like Neal realize they want to. We will spend the rest of our lives not being able to have girls like her. Just move on, dude.”

David crossed his arms and took a step back from August. “No. You’re wrong about her.”

August put his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’m wrong. You want to take a shot? Be my guest. She’s actually looking for a French tutor.”

David’s entire face lit up. “Seriously? That’s perfect!”

“Do you speak French?”

���No.” He stared dreamily at Mary Margaret, who was waving goodbye to her friend. “But I will.”

On her way to her sister’s car, Mary Margaret was stopped in her tracks by Neal Gold pulling up in his convertible.

“Hey. Would you and your friend like a ride?”

Mary Margaret barely waited to breathe before she called out to Tamara, who ran over and got in Neal’s car right behind her friend.

Emma and Lily, who had watched the drama unfold, rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“That’s a charming new development,” Lily said sarcastically.

Scrunching her face in disgust, Emma added, “it’s pathetic.” She buckled her seatbelt and prepared to drive just the two of them. Right when she was about to back out, Emma had to slam the breaks because of a stalled motorcycle directly behind her car. “Hey,” she yelled, “remove head from ass, then drive!”

The motorcyclist scooted away sans motor so Emma could pull out. She flipped him off and sped out of the parking lot.

David Nolan came running up to the rider - August. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just a minor encounter with the shrew, your girlfriend’s sister.”  

“That’s Mary Margaret’s sister?” David was in a state of disbelief. 

August nodded, “adopted.” With that, he once again got his motorcycle working. Sending David a knowing smile, he put on his helmet and rode off.

Emma was happily lying on the living room couch reading a book when her adoptive father arrived home.

“Hello, Emma. Make anyone cry today?”

“Sadly, no, but it’s only 4:30.”

Leo Blanchard’s smile only grew as Mary Margaret came inside and greeted her father.

“Hi, Daddy.” She kissed his cheek and moved Emma’s feet so she could sit on the couch.

“Hello, precious.”

“And where have you been?” Emma bookmarked her page and closed the book, expecting some amusement as her father learns that her sister was in a car with Neal Gold.

“Nowhere.” She gave Emma a pleading look.

Emma promptly ignored her sister. “Ask Mary Margaret who drove her home.”

Leo waited for an answer from his biological daughter.

“Now, don’t get upset, but there’s this boy.” Mary Margaret couldn’t help grinning at the thought of a boy liking her.

“Who’s a flaming imbecile,” Emma chimed in.

“And I think he might ask me-”

“Please. I think I know what he’s going to ask you. And I think I know the answer: No. 1, it’s always no. What are the house rules? No. 1, no dating till you graduate. No. 2, no dating till you graduate. That’s it.”

“That’s so unfair! I’m the only girl in school who’s not dating.” She put on the puppy-dog face.

“No, you’re not. Your sister doesn’t date.”

Emma smiled proudly. “And I don’t intend to.”

“And why is that again?” Leo turned to his adopted daughter, beaming smile on his face.

“Have you seen the unwashed miscreants that go to that school?” Emma could actually see the moment a new idea sparked in her father’s brain.

“Okay. You’re unhappy with the old rule - fine. Old rule out. New rule in: Mary Margaret can date-” Mary Margaret squealed with delight; Emma gasped at the unfairness. Leo pointed at Emma, “-when she does.”

“So I was thinking.” David Nolan sat across from Mary Margaret Blanchard at a library table.

“Yeah?”

“Well, there’s no better way to learn a language than by doing, right?” She looked confused. “What about French food? We could eat some, you know, together? Saturday night?”

“That’s so cute! You’re asking me out.” Mary Margaret’s voice got dangerously high-pitched before her delight switched to disappointment.

David watched her emotions play out on her face. “Oh, I mean, I know your dad doesn’t let you date, but I thought maybe if it was for French class-”

“Oh, wait a minute!” She was smiling again. “My dad just came up with a new rule. I can date if my sister does.”

David’s face lit up.

“Don’t get too excited, David. My sister is pretty much incapable of human interaction nowadays.”

“Well, I’m sure that there are lots of guys who wouldn’t mind going out with a difficult woman,” he sounded unsure, but he was determined.

“You really think you could find someone extreme enough to date her?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

Mary Margaret reached out and touched David’s arm. “You’d do that for me?”

“Absolutely.”

After a long and fruitless search - apparently Emma Swan’s reputation precedes her - David knew he had the right guy in biology as he watched Killian Jones hack away at his dissection frog rather than delicately cut it.

“Hey, what about him?” David whispered to August, pointing at Killian.

“No, no. ��Don’t look at him, okay? He's a criminal.” August slapped David’s arm down from pointing at Killian and avoided even glancing in that direction.

David watched as Killian took out a cigarette from his leather jacket pocket and lit it using his Bunsen burner. He almost got around to smoking it, but his lab partner grabbed it and put it out. Obviously frustrated, he rested his head on one of his arms that was on the lab table and brooded. Abandoning the assignment altogether, he passed his right hand through the Bunsen burner’s flame on and off. As David continued to watch Killian, he knew had found the perfect guy for Emma.

“How do we get him to date Emma?” August looked at his friend, who was staring at Killian Jones from across the cafeteria. He didn’t think dealing with Killian Jones was a great idea, but David was convinced.

“I don’t know. We could pay him, except that we don’t have any money.” David slumped in his seat, deflated at the idea of not being able to take Mary Margaret out.

“Yeah. Well, what we need is a backer.” David sat up a little straighter. “You know, someone with money who’s stupid.” David followed August’s gaze to the popular table, where Neal Gold was laughing obnoxiously loudly with his posse. August turned to David, nodding. “I got this.” With that, August walked over to Neal’s table and took an empty chair, pretending to laugh to blend in.

“Are you lost?” Neal asked August.

“I just came by to chat,” August said confidently. David couldn’t believe August wanted to work with the competition.

“We don’t chat.”

“Actually, I thought that I'd run an idea by you, just to see if you're interested.”

Neal interrupted, “I’m not.”

“You want Mary Margaret, right?” Now August had Neal’s attention. “She can't go out with you because her sister is a heinous bitch who growls if you stare too long. What I think you need to do is hire someone who doesn’t scare so easily, tame the beast, so to speak.” August turned his attention to Killian, expecting Neal to follow. He did. “Seems like a solid investment, right?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“Hey. I’m walking down the hall and say hello to you, you say hello to me. Or at least maybe you don’t treat me and my friend like crap all the time.”

“Alright. I get it.” August nodded, and Neal nodded in return - an agreement - before telling August to leave. “We’re done now.” August got up and returned to his seat next to David.

“What are you doing getting him involved?”

“Relax. We’ll let him think he’s calling the shots, but you’ll be the one spending time with Mary Margaret while he sets everything up.”

“Okay. That’s not a bad idea, actually.” David was so ready to take out the girl of his dreams.

Killian Jones sat with his friend Will Scarlet. They were smoking on the bench on the sideline of the soccer field. Killian steeled his features, abruptly ceasing his laughter over something Will had said, as none other than Neal Gold approached the bench. Killian said nothing, hoping Neal would get bored and leave. No such luck.

“Hey. How ya doing?”

Killian put his cigarette between his teeth. “Can I help you?”

“See that girl?” Neal was pointing at one of the girls playing soccer, her long blond hair pulled up in a ponytail as she fought one of the other players for the ball.

He took the cigarette from his mouth. “I see her.” He kept watching her, somehow compelled not to look away.

“That’s Emma Swan. I want you to go out with her.” Neal was grinning smugly when Killian turned his attention back to him.

“Yeah, sure, Sparky.” Killian looked at Will and the two laughed. Killian returned the cigarette to his mouth for a moment before removing it and throwing it down on the ground in front of him.

“Look; I can’t take out her sister until Emma starts dating. You see, their dad’s insane. He’s got this rule where the girls-”

Killian put a hand up, stopping Neal’s jabbering. “That’s a touching story. It really is. Also not my problem.”

“Would you be willing to make it your problem if I provide generous compensation?” Neal waggled his eyebrows, still grinning.

Killian narrowed his eyes just barely. “You’re going to pay me to take out some lass?” Neal’s grin grew as he gave Killian a single nod. “How much?” Killian could use the money, and there are worse ways to earn money than spending a night with a pretty girl.

“Twenty bucks.”

The three guys turned their attention back to the field to watch Emma. Killian crossed his arms and turned back to Neal after she violently body checked another player.

Neal sighed. “Fine. Thirty.”

Killian held up his index finger and shook it. “Well, let’s think about this.  We go to the movies - that’s, say, 20 bucks. I get gas for my car, we get popcorn - that’s 60. And if she has a sweet tooth, we’re looking at 75 bucks.”

“I’m not negotiating this. Take it or leave it.”

Killian shrugged. “Fifty bucks and we’ve got a deal.” He held out his hand to Neal, and this time, he was the one wiggling his eyebrows. Neal sighed as he pulled a $50 bill from his wallet, placing it in Killian’s outstretched hand. Pocketing the cash, he waved to Neal and said good-bye to Will as he made himself comfortable on the concrete bench to watch the rest of practice.

As soon as the coach dismissed the soccer team, Killian stood up, shoved his hands into his pockets, and prepared himself to approach Emma Swan. As she packed some things into her equipment bag, Killian came up behind her.

“Hey there, love. How are you this fine afternoon?”

Emma swung around at his voice, clearly startled, though refusing to let him know it. “First, not your love. Second, sweating like a pig, actually. And yourself?”

“Now there’s a way to get a guy’s attention.”

She rolled her eyes. “My mission in life.” Her eyes narrowed when Killian didn’t walk away. She threw her bag over her shoulder then crossed her arms. “But apparently I’ve gotten your attention, so, you see, it worked.” Emma started off back to the locker room to get the rest of her stuff so she could get home and shower. She did not expect him to follow her.

“Pick you up Friday, then?”

She swung around to face him once again. “Oh, right. Friday. Yeah, sure.”

He lowered his voice, “I’ll take you places you’ve never been before.”

“Like the alley behind the drugstore on Main Street? Do you even know my name, jackass?”

“I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful.”

“You’re something of an open book.” She stuttered in her movement to walk away. There was something in his face that told her he wasn’t lying. But if he thought he knew her, he had another thing coming. After taking another moment to scan her suitor, she turned around and walked inside, not letting him call after her or follow.

Alone on the field, Killian actually smiled as he said the only two words coming to mind at that moment, “bloody hell.”

Later that night, Emma was brushing her teeth before bed when her sister came into the bathroom for her nightly routine.

“Have you ever considered a new look? I mean, seriously, you could have some definite potential buried under all that hostility.” Emma stilled the hand holding her toothbrush and stared at her sister, who looked entirely unfazed.

“I’m not hostile. I’m annoyed.”

“Why don’t you try being nice? I know you are. But people at school wouldn’t know what to think.”

“You forget that I don’t care what people think. Stopped caring ages ago.”

Mary Margaret turned to Emma and put a hand on her shoulder. “You do care.”

Emma shook her head and spit the toothpaste out of her mouth. “No, I don’t. And you don’t always have to be who they want you to be. You know that?”

“I happen to enjoy being liked by people.”

Emma rinsed her toothbrush before looking back at her sister. “Wait, where’d you get that necklace?”

“It’s Mom’s,” Mary Margaret squeaked out.

Emma couldn’t believe this. Only three years after their mother’s death and Mary Margaret thought she could just take her things. “And you’ve been hiding it for three years?”

“No. Dad found it in a drawer last week.”

“And you’re wearing it now? Is that going to be a normal thing?”

“It’s not like she’s going to wear it. And she always said she thought it would look good on me.”

Emma shook her head and felt the tears threatening to spill. “Trust me,” she spat out, “it doesn’t.”

With bags of food in hand, Emma emerged from the grocery store to find Killian Jones leaning against her car.

“This is quite the vessel you captain here, Swan.”

She rested the bags on the sidewalk, but she still gripped the handles. “Are you following me?”

“I was at Marco’s. Saw your car - hard to miss, that yellow Bug. I came over to say hi.”

“Hi.” She picked up her groceries and moved to put them in her car. Killian kept a hand on the door, stopping her from opening it.

“Not a big talker?”

“Depends on the topic. Hearing people mock my car doesn’t really whip me into a verbal frenzy.”

Killian stared at her like he was putting together a puzzle, trying to figure her out. His voice was high-pitched with curiosity as he asked, “you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Afraid of you?” She managed to get her door open and shoved her bags in the car before turning back around to face her stalker. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

He shrugged. “Most people are.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me.  But I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” He gave her a knowing wink. She thought it was absolutely obnoxious.

She feigned surprise. “Am I that transparent?” He chuckled as she wedged herself into her car. Putting his hands up in mock innocence, Killian backed up onto the sidewalk as Emma started to pull away. Of course, Neal Gold parked his show-off classic car in the road directly behind her. “What is it, asshole day?” She muttered to herself. To Neal, who was walking into his father’s pawn shop, she yelled, “hey, do you mind?”

He yelled back, “no, not at all,” before walking into the shop and slamming the door behind him.

Fed up, Emma backed straight out and into Neal’s car, pushing it until it was out of the way. Her car may be old, but it was built better than his rich-kid car. She started to pull out of the parking lot, flipping Neal off as he came running out of the store.

“What the hell, bitch?!”

“Oops!” She laughed as she pulled away, even flashing Killian a smile from her window before disappearing from view.

Killian had stood on the sidewalk watching the whole scene, a delighted smile gracing his face as Neal ran to his car to assess the damage. Emma Swan could certainly hold her own.

After being properly lectured about the accident by her father, who tried and failed to hide that he was definitely a tad proud, Emma’s reading was interrupted by a screech from her sister.

“Did you maim Neal’s car?!”

“Yup. Looks like you’re going to have to take the bus, or, you know, ride with your bitch of a sister.” Emma smiled, but didn’t bother looking up from her book.

“Has the fact that you’re completely insane managed to escape your attention?”

Emma shrugged. Mary Margaret let out a noise of frustration and then walked away.

Killian was at his locker talking to Will when none other than Neal Gold came strutting over and slammed Killian’s locker closed.

“When I shell out fifty bucks, I expect results.” He looked like he was two seconds from grabbing Killian’s jacket and lifting him up against the lockers, if only he wasn’t scared of Killian.

“I’m on it, mate.” He grinned at Will before turning back to a still-fuming Neal. Will slapped Killian on the back as he took his leave.

“Watching that bitch ram into my car doesn’t count as a date. If you don’t get some, I don’t get some. So get some.” Neal glared at Killian for a solid minute before starting to walk away when it was clear Killian wasn’t budging.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Killian called after him. “I just upped my price.”

Neal stared in disbelief. With what happened to Neal’s car, Killian figured he could get more out of him, though getting Emma Swan to go out with him was not about the money anymore. He liked a good challenge, and he might even like her. But the money wouldn’t hurt.

“Hundred bucks a date in advance.” Killian stood confidently as Neal stomped over to him.

“Forget it.” He started to walk away again.

“Forget her sister, then.” Killian knew he had Neal there.

Neal fished another $50 bill from his wallet. “You better hope you’re as smooth as you think you are, Jones.”

Killian said nothing, just took the money with a smug smile and walked away, leaving Neal at the lockers.

Killian Jones looked forward to his daily 45 minutes of shop class. He liked being hands-on, and it was a creative outlet. Since shop was an elective and it involved some heavy machinery, shop was the class in which the least amount of his classmates were scared of him. And the best part for Killian - his prosthetic hand was a guaranteed steady weight, and he didn’t risk cutting himself on that hand.

Their latest project was the most obvious of projects for a high school shop class: A birdhouse. However, the students could design their birdhouses to look like anything they wanted, so Killian was modeling his as a ship. His older brother had served in the navy, and Liam had gotten his younger brother fascinated with ships.

Just as Killian was working on carving the boat’s largest sail, he was approached by two guys who were absolutely not in the class.  

The blonde spoke first. “We know what you’re trying to do with Emma Swan.”

Killian put down the sander he was using on the sail. “Is that so? And what do you plan to do about it?”

“Help you out.”

That was not the response he was expecting. “Why’s that?”

The kid in the too-tight leather jacket answered. “The situation is my man David here is really into Mary Margaret Blanchard.”

Killian sighed. Of course. “What is it with this lass?”

“Look, I think I speak correctly when I say that David's love is pure - purer than, say, Neal Gold’s.”

“I really don’t give a damn who Gold nails. He’s paying me. That’s all this is.”

David reacted before his friend could get a word out. “There will be no nailing going on.”

The friend put a hand up to stop David from continuing. “Killian, Let me explain something to you here.  We set this whole thing up so David could get the girl - David. Neal's just a pawn.”

“So you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?” Killian alternated pointing between the two guys in front of him.

“We’ll do some research. We’ll find out what she likes.” Both of the guys were grinning at Killian. “Let’s start with Friday night. Matt Murdock is throwing a party - the perfect opportunity for you to take Emma out.”

“I’ll think about it.” Picking up the sander once more, Killian got back to work on his birdhouse, hoping his intruders would take the hint and go away. Once they were gone, patting each other on their backs as they walked away, the noise from the sander chased off any thoughts of Emma Swan and this plan he’d gotten mixed up in.

“So, Mary Margaret, have you heard about Murdock’s party Friday?” David looked at his walking companion.

“Yes. And I really, really, really want to go, but I can't - not unless my sister goes.”

“I know. I’m working on that. But so far, she just isn’t going for my guy.” Mary Margaret nodded slowly. Of course her sister wasn’t going for some guy. “She’s not, you know-”

“No,” Mary Margaret answered plainly. “She’s definitely into guys. I found magazine cutouts of actors she likes in her drawer once.”

“So that’s the kind of guys she likes - pretty guys?”

Mary Margaret shook her head. “I don’t know. All I've ever heard her say is that she'd die before dating a guy that smokes.”

“Okay. Helpful. What else?”

“You’re asking me to get inside my sister’s twisted mind? I don’t think so, David.”

“Well, nothing else has worked. We might have to go behind enemy lines here.”

Mary Margaret stopped in her tracks as she considered the idea. “Okay, come with me.” David couldn’t quite hide the smile blooming on his face. “You are really lucky I like you.”

Back at the Blanchard household, the two made sure Emma wasn’t home before creeping into her room.

“She keeps all her junk in this drawer.” Mary Margaret opened it slowly and started rifling through it. David stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure of how exactly to act in Emma Swan’s bedroom. “Class schedule, reading list, planner, coffee receipts, concert tickets.” There was some potentially useful stuff there. David approached slowly, taking the items Mary Margaret had gathered. “Ah-ha! Red panties!”

David coughs. “What does that tell us?”

“She wants to have sex someday!”

“Or she’s really into red? She does wear that jacket all the time.”

“You don’t buy red lingerie unless you want someone to see it,” Mary Margaret laughed at his flustered behavior.

“Right.” David pulled the pile of Emma material closer to him as he took a step back from where Mary Margaret held out the red underwear. “You can put that back now.”

Rolling her eyes, she put the panties back in the drawer and took the pile from David. He got out his phone and took pictures of her schedule, reading list, and concert tickets. He’d take a more detailed look once they were out of Emma’s room. “You so owe me for coming in here.”

“Freedom to go to Murdock’s party?”

“I suppose that’s a start.”

Killian Jones worked part-time as a bartender at a local bar. The hours meant very little sleep, and he was late for school a lot after sleeping through his alarm, but the bar’s owner let him do homework behind the bar and he liked his regulars. The last thing he expected to see on the job was the two guys from shop class walk in. They looked entirely out of place, David in his bright plaid shirt and too-big grin on his face.

“So this is what a bar looks like.”

Killian ran to the front of the bar and pulled David by his shirt collar over to the pool table. “If my boss caught you two at the bar, I could lose my job. Why are you here?”

David pried his shirt from Killian’s fist and his grin disappeared. “We have some intel for you.”

Killian sat on the edge of the pool table. “All right. What’ve you got?”

“Wait. We can’t be at the bar, but you can work at one?” August crossed his arms.

“Owner is a family friend. If I drink, I lose my job,” Killian paused and looked between the two guys. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Nodding in understanding, David went back to the night’s intended subject. “Well, thing No. 1, Emma hates smokers - hates.”

Killian’s jaw dropped.

“So you’re telling me I’m now a non-smoker?” August reached into Killian’s jacket pocket and took his pack of cigarettes.

“Yup.” Killian narrowed his eyes at August in anger. “But just for now.” He pocketed the cigarettes and held his hands up in innocence.

“Actually, there’s another problem,” David started. Killian turned his attention to him and raised his eyebrows in question. “Mary Margaret said Emma likes, um, pretty guys.”

Killian stared at David in silence for a second. “Are you telling me I’m not a pretty guy?”

“You’re very pretty. Gorgeous, in fact. Right, David?” August elbowed David in the side.

“Yup. Very pretty. I just, you know, I wasn’t sure.”

Killian started walking away, thinking the conversation was over.

“Wait. We have more.” David held up a crumpled up piece of paper.

Killian glanced over at the bar to make sure he was covered before turning back to David. “Go on.”

“Okay. Likes: Chinese and Indian food, hot chocolate, coffee, ‘80s music, Robert Downey Jr., and ‘90s boy bands, which I just cannot believe.” David pulled out another sheet of notebook paper. “This is for you - list of dvds she has in her room, list of books on her bookshelf that look the most read, and her most played songs on her iPod.”

“So I’m supposed to buy her Chicken Tikka Masala, a book, and sit around watching Robert Downey Jr. movies when we aren’t listening to Michael Jackson and Bon Jovi?”

Killian’s knowledge of the things David listed honestly surprised both August and him.

“Actually, have you ever heard of Avril Lavigne?”

“She has tickets to see her tomorrow night.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t be seen at an Avril Lavigne concert.”

“If it helps, she’s got a pair of red underwear.” 

Leaving Killian gaping, David and August left.

As he headed back to the bar to resume work, Killian groaned because he knew he had to go to that bloody concert the following night.

Killian could not be happier that the venue Avril Lavigne was playing had a bar with a bartender who absolutely could not tell a fake ID from a real one. Nursing a glass of rum - he limited himself to two; he had to drive home himself and he wasn’t that irresponsible - he watched Emma dance to the music with her friend. She was a vision in a green tank top and jeans, strong arms on display without her usual red leather jacket. Her hair was only just slightly wavy as she flipped it over her shoulder. He watched as she said something to her friend before heading his way. Spinning himself around on the stool, he pretended to be extremely interested in his phone all the sudden.

“Two waters, please.”

Killian could tell when she noticed him sitting there by her aggravated groan. “If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with.”

“Do you mind? I can’t hear the music over your voice.”

She knew perfectly well that he was not there for the music. “You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

“Yeah. About that - I quit. Did you know those things are bad for you?”

“Wait. You quit?”

“Aye.” Killian took it as a win when Emma stared at him, too stunned to reply with some sarcastic retort. “You know, Swan, I was watching you out there before.”

“Stalker,” she quipped before thanking the bartender for the waters and paying him.

“I’ve never seen you look so sexy,” Killian commented when Emma turned her attention back to him, except he hadn’t noticed the song was ending, and there was a moment of silence in the club right as he spoke. His ears flashed bright red as he scratched at a spot behind his right ear. Being nearly the only male in the club, his comment was met with giggles from the female crowd, who had heard him clearly. The saving grace of his embarrassment was that Emma, gorgeously flushed from both her dancing and embarrassment, also laughed. Killian waited until the next song had started before getting the courage to talk again. “Come with me to Murdock’s party.”

“You just don’t know when to give up, huh?” She flashed him a grin as she made her way back to her friend in the crowd.

“Was that a yes?” He called after her.

“No,” she shouted in return.

“Was that a no?”

“No.”

Smiling to himself, he yelled to her once more, “I’ll pick you up at 9.”

Mary Margaret and Tamara had put on their party clothes and were close to the front door when Mr. Leo Blanchard called out from the couch, “should’ve used the window, girls.”

Tamara smacked Mary Margaret in the arm and muttered, “told you.”

Leo got up and confronted the girls. “And where are we going?”

“Well, if you must know, a small study group of friends.” Mary Margaret batted her eyelashes.

“Also known as a party?”

“Mr. Blanchard, it’s just a party. And I promise I’ll take care of Mary Margaret,” Tamara tried.

Leo called up the stairs, “Emma, did you know about some party tonight?”

“I don’t know,” Emma yelled from her room.

“That settles it. Emma isn’t going, you’re not going.”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret screeched up the stairs. “Emma, please! Just for one night, can’t you forget that you hate everyone and be my sister? Please? C’mon, Emma, please do this for me.”

Emma closed her book and sighed. Mary Margaret’s pleading was genuine enough. Grabbing her leather jacket, she headed downstairs. “Fine. I’ll make an appearance.”

Mary Margaret hugged Emma between high-pitched squeals of delight.

“Thank you, Emma. Thank you.”

Leo Blanchard just stood there in shock as Mary Margaret and Tamara ran out the door. Emma rolled her eyes and answered the door when someone knocked, expecting it to be one of her sister’s many suitors. She was taken aback when it was Killian Jones.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s 9, right?” He glanced at his watch - 8:47. “Oh, I’m early.”

Emma barely recalled his promise to pick her up at 9. She was surprised he actually kept his word.

“Alright. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.” She grabbed his left hand, which she noticed did not feel like a flesh hand, and pulled him out the door. His breath hitched immediately and it was like he forgot how to walk. She tugged before letting go. “You coming?”

He shook himself out of it. “Yeah. Of course, Swan.”

The party was exactly how Emma imagined it would be: Drunk teenagers all dry humping each other and talking far too loudly. She and Killian wandered around, neither one really sure how to act at a party. Walking upstairs, Killian was stopped by Ashley, that girl from their English class.

Ashley threw herself at Killian, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to her. “Kiss me!”

Killian looked around, spotting a guy sitting on a beanbag placed in the hallway. He directed Ashley to that guy, forcing her into his lap. “Kiss him.”

About to walk away, Killian was stopped by a hand on his jacket - the hand of the guy he forced Ashley onto. “Hey, man! Thanks!”

Killian nodded at him and went to try to find Emma. He spotted her in one of the guest rooms, where someone had stuck a keg. She was talking to Neal Gold.

“Hey, Swan Princess. Looking good!”

Emma glared at Neal, the last person she wanted to see that night. Already wanting to leave, she turned around to find Killian to let him know she was going home. As she started walking out of the room, Neal grabbed her waist and pulled her back to him.

“Where you going, Em?”

“Away.” Emma pulled his hand off her.

“Where’s your sister? She here?”

“Stay the hell away from my sister.”

Neal put his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll stay away from Mary Margaret, but I can’t guarantee she’ll stay away from me.” He smirked.

Emma pushed through the crowd to leave the room. She wandered around for a while as she looked for Killian. Heading into the kitchen hoping that if Killian wasn’t in there, maybe she could at least find something halfway-decent to eat, she was met with her sister on one of Neal’s arms and Tamara on his other. Both girls were giddy.

“Em,” he screamed. “Look who found me!” He led the girls away from Emma, who lost them in the crowd. So much for protecting her sister from the biggest jerk in Maine. She was an awful sister.

“Hey, want one?” She whipped her head around to see some guy who she figured was in college. He held out a tray of shots.

Glancing around the room once more, she didn’t see Mary Margaret anymore, or Killian, so she shrugged and took a shot. She downed it right as Killian found her.

“Swan, what are you doing?” He looked panicked as he took the empty shot glass from her.

“Partying. Like a normal person. My sister would be so proud.”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Swan-” Killian was cut off as Emma spotted another tray of shots and wandered off in pursuit. Killian watched helplessly from the spot Emma just stood. “One of these days, I’m going to stop chasing this woman.” He headed after her, hoping she didn’t get too carried away.

“August, I just saw Mary Margaret.”

“Took you long enough to find her. Where is she now?”

“With Neal.” August froze, his cup of water not quite making it to his mouth.

“That wasn’t in the plan. Now what?”

David took a deep breath. “I - I don’t know. She was happy. She looked like she wanted to be here with him.”

“Go find her again. Make up a reason for her to spend time with you instead.” David nodded, sighing and turning to leave. He looked defeated. August patted David on the back as he watched his friend disappear into the crowd. “Good luck, my friend.”

Killian paced the entirety of the house twice before he found Emma, but too late. She was dancing on the coffee table in the living room, completely drunk.

“Swan, what do you say I have this shot?” He pried the glass from her hand as she continued to dance.

“No! It’s mine!” She tried her hardest to grab it back, but she was slow in her inebriated state.

“Hey, man!” Neal put an arm around Killian’s shoulders. Killian shuddered in return. “How did you do it?”

“What?”

“You managed to get her to act like a normal person!” Neal cheered as Emma kept dancing, taking off her jacket and swinging it around. Killian shook off Neal and moved closer to Emma as she made her way to the edge of the table. He was barely able to catch her as she fell off, but when he did, he carried her outside to keep her from drinking any more. He found a bench on the porch outside and put her down onto it.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better.” That was a lie. She couldn’t even sit up by herself. She leaned on Killian’s side and let her head dangle forward as she rested her eyes.

Killian rubbed her back and made sure she was comfortable. She dozed off on his shoulder. He sighed, rubbing his temples when he saw David storm out of the house.

“She wanted Neal this whole time!”

Killian helped lie Emma down onto the bench as he stepped aside to talk with David. “What’s up, mate?”

“I saw Mary Margaret and Tamara with Neal. I felt sorry for myself for a little, then went to find her again. The second time, she was so transfixed with him. I was a fool. It’s off, Killian. The whole thing’s off. Thanks for trying, but she never wanted me. She just wanted me to help her out so she could go out with him.”

Killian didn’t have time for this.

“Nolan, look. Do you like Mary Margaret?”

David sighed and softened. “Yeah.”

“And is she worth all the trouble?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know anymore. I thought so, but-”

Killian stared David down. “Look, mate. Either she is or she isn’t. First of all, Neal is not half the man you are. Secondly, don’t let anyone ever make you feel like you don’t deserve what you want, aye?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

Emma stirred and tried to stand up from the bench on her own.

“I’m a tad busy here, Dave. Best of luck with Mary Margaret.” David nodded and took off back inside. Killian ran back to Emma just in time to catch her and get her to sit back down.

“Why are you taking care of me like this?” Emma babbled.

“It may surprise you, Swan, but I care for you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t really, though.”

“Of course I do.”

“Why?”

“If you weren’t around, I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

She snorted. “Like you could find one.”

“Ah, see that? Who needs affection when I have blind hatred?” They both laughed. “Can I ask you something now, Swan?” She didn’t answer. “Why do you let Neal get to you? I mean, he’s a wanker, but it’s like you take it personally.”

“I hate him.”

Killian opened his mouth to ask another question, but he was interrupted by Emma darting into a sitting position before puking onto the ground in front of the bench. He sighed yet again as he gathered her hair and held it back as she emptied her stomach.

“Hey, Mary Margaret, Neal’s holding an afterparty. You in?”

“I don’t know, Tam. I have a curfew. It’s my first night of freedom. I can’t take advantage like that.”

“Girls, you coming?” Neal waved from the door.

“Be right there,” Tamara called out to him in her flirtiest voice. He seemed impressed. Mary Margaret started to realize that maybe Neal wasn’t that into her. Maybe he just wanted any girl he could get his hands on.

“Last chance, Mary Margaret.”

With her recent realization, she actually didn’t want to go the party. “I think I’ll just find my sister and go home.”

“Alright. Your loss. Text you tomorrow.” Mary Margaret nodded to acknowledge her friend before sighing and looking around for Emma. It was looking like she needed a ride home. She found David instead.

“Hey. Have fun tonight?” He asked timidly.

“Look, David,” she started. She made eye contact as she asked, “do you think you could give me a ride home?”

Killian and Emma sat in his car. He was parked in front of her house, but she seemed hesitant to get out of the car.

“I should do this,” she giggles.

“Do what?”

She pointed at the car stereo.

“Install car stereos?” She laughed. He would think about that laugh for the rest of time.

“No. Start a band. Wouldn’t my dad just love that?” In that moment, she thought about her mom and how she loved to sing and play guitar - she was the reason Emma taught herself guitar.

“You don't strike me as the type to ask your father’s permission.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You really think you know me, huh?”

“I like to think I’m getting closer.”

“The only thing people know about me is that I’m a bitch.”

“Yeah, well, I’m no picnic myself.” Emma and Killian locked eyes as silence overtook the car. Killian was the one to break the moment. “So what's up with your dad?  Is he a pain in the ass like everyone makes him seem?”

“Nah. He just wants me to be someone I’m not.”

“Who’s that?”

“Mary Margaret.”

“Well, no offense to your sister or anything, but she’s without.”

Emma stared at him. She’d always been the second-choice sister. “You’re really not as repulsive as I thought you were.” The two seemed to share a moment as Emma leaned in closer to Killian. His breath hitched, and it was then and the stench of beer and tequila that reminded him how drunk she was.

“Swan, maybe we should do this another time.”

Emma pulled back, hurt flashing in her eyes at the rejection. She wrestled to get the car door open, then slammed it before walking to her house, wiping tears along the way. Killian sighed as his head fell forward to rest on the steering wheel. He just hoped she’d understand when she sobered up.

Meanwhile, in David’s car, still at the party, he couldn’t find it in himself to turn the motor on just yet.

“You never wanted to go out with me, did you?”

“Well, I kinda did.”

“But I’m not Neal.”

“I don’t know. He’s just-”

“You don’t have to say any more.”

“I do like you, David.”

“Save it. just because you're beautiful, doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter. I mean, I really like you. I defended you when people called you conceited. I helped set Emma up so you could get out of the house. I learned French for you. And then you just blow me off for him.”

Mary Margaret answered by pulling him to her and kissing him. Cheering to himself, David knew he had won after all. She was absolutely worth the trouble.

Mr. Pendragon opened class as he always did on Mondays, asking about the students’ weekends.

“Why don’t you ask Emma?” Neal joked.

“Why do I feel like I don’t actually want to know what you all got up to?” He looked over at Emma, who was hiding her head in her arms on her desk. “All right. I definitely don’t. Let’s get started. Sonnets!”

The class groaned.

“I know, I know. Shakespeare and poetry - not everyone’s favorite things. But I want you all to write your own sonnets.”

Emma raised her hand. Mr. Pendragon prepared himself for the worst. “Does it have to be in iambic pentameter?”

Mr. Pendragon was stunned. “You don’t want to assert an opinion here?”

“I think this is a good assignment.”

“Are you messing with me?”

“No. I’m really looking forward to writing this.” He sized her up for a minute looking for a trace of a lie. Whatever happened last weekend must have really gotten to her.

“Alright, Ms. Swan. Thank you. And, no, it does not have to be written in iambic pentameter.”

Emma nodded and took note, specifically avoiding looking behind her at where Killian’s desk was.

Killian sat on the sideline bench alone as he watched Emma practice with her soccer team. He sighed, really wishing he could smoke a cigarette at that moment.

“Hey, man.” David sat next to Killian. “What’d you do to her?”

“Nothing. And if I had done anything, she would’ve been too drunk to remember.”

“But the plan was working.”

Killian took his eyes off Emma and looked at David. “Why do you even care? I thought the plan was off?”

“It was, but you gave me that pep talk and then,” he smiled.

“And then?”

“She kissed me.”

That got Killian to smile. At least someone got the girl. “Where?”

“In my car.”

Killian was going to press for more details, but August ran up to the bench. “So I talked to Emma.”

“And?” Killian looked up at August, hopeful.

“She really, really hates you right now.” Killian’s shoulders sagged with disappointment.

“Well,” David tried to find a positive in the situation but failed. “Maybe she just needs a day to cool off.”

All three guys ducked as a soccer ball came beaming at them at a speed that seemed like it could’ve cleanly knocked one of their heads off. They turned to the field to find Emma glaring at them. She was absolutely the one who kicked it. She was absolutely aiming for Killian.

David smiled sheepishly. “Maybe two days.”

Emma and Lily were headed outside to eat lunch when they came across a flier for prom. In anger, Emma yanked it from the wall.

“Can you imagine who would go to that antiquated mating ritual?”

Lily raised her hand. “I actually would, but I don’t have a date.”

Emma shot daggers at Lily with her eyes.

“Okay, okay. We won’t go. It’s not like I have a dress anyway.”

“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Neal came up to her.

She wasn’t really interested in talking to him. “Can I help you?” She focused on the field hockey ball she was dribbling between her stick.

“You’re concentrating awfully hard for gym class.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about prom.”

“You know the deal.” She chased the ball after losing control of it. Stopping dribbling for a minute, she finally faced Neal. “I can’t go if Emma doesn’t.”

“You sister is going.”

She crossed her arms. “Since when?”

“Let’s just say I’m taking care of it.”

Mary Margaret smiled. Maybe she’d get to go to prom after all, but she definitely didn’t see herself there with Neal.

Neal held out two $100 bills to Killian. “This should take care of the flowers, the limo, the tux - everything. Just make sure she gets to the prom.”

“You know what? I’m out. I’m sick of playing your little game.” Killian’s eyes scanned the hallway. He just wanted to see Emma again.

“Are you still out if I raise it to $300?”

Killian knew he could use the money, but Emma wasn’t a business transaction for him. He took the money. He would use some of it for prom if things went well, but he was coming up with a plan for a way to use some of the rest of it.

The next day, Killian saw Emma’s car at a record store. He stopped in to see if she was still angry at him.

“Excuse me,” he tapped her on the shoulder. “Have you seen a copy of From Under The Cork Tree? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

She whipped around and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for a Fall Out Boy album. I thought my inquiry made that clear.”

“You’re so-”

“Charming? Devilishly handsome?”

“Unwelcome.” She started to walk to a different section of the store. He followed.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are.”

“You’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Someone still has her panties in a twist.”

She swung around. “Don't you, for one second, think that you had any effect on my panties.”

“Then what did I have an effect on?”

“Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing.” She continued browsing through records, then pulled one out. She pressed it to his chest before leaving. Killian had to set his plan in motion quickly. Before leaving himself, he looked at the record she found him: From Under the Cork Tree.

At soccer practice the next day, Emma was in the zone. Soccer was a great way for her to channel her anger at Killian. She was so focused on perfecting the team’s newest play, she hadn’t realized her teammates all stopped playing. Trapping the ball, she turned around to face the bleachers to see what all her teammates were staring at. She was greeted by Killian at the top of the bleachers, something in his hand. He ran down a few rows of seats so Emma could make him out better. It was a microphone.

Pulling the mic to his mouth, he sang, “you’re just too good to be true. Can’t take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I want to hold you so much. At long last love has arrived, and I thank god I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”

Emma found herself almost swooning. Her teammates looked at her for her reaction. She smiled, then jumped as there was a loud noise from behind her. She turned to see the marching band walking onto the field, playing along to the song Killian was singing.

She turned her attention back to Killian. “I love you, baby. And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights.”

The school police had gotten word of the disturbance and were running onto the bleachers to stop Killian. Taking a look at his pursuers, Killian wagged his eyebrows at Emma before running around the bleachers as he sang, dodging police officers and adding a strut or two as he sauntered around.

And he didn’t miss a note. “I love you, baby. Trust in me when I say, oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray. Oh, pretty baby, now that I've found you, stay and let me love you.”

He made his way down to the first row of seats, and Emma found herself walking over to him. She smiled and laughed as he sang the last line, staring into her eyes. “Baby, let me love you.”

Everyone who witnessed the song applauded and cheered when he finished, Emma included. Smiling back at her, Killian winked before being carried off by the police officers. Who knew Killian Jones would be one for grand romantic gestures?

Saturday detention was nothing new to Killian Jones. He had been sentenced to spend a few of his precious free days at school among his fellow delinquents before - sometimes for smoking, sometimes for ditching class or coming in late, et cetera, et cetera. But this Saturday, the prospect of spending his entire day trapped in an overheated classroom was more bothersome than usual, as he knew that Emma Swan was no longer angry with him. He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her.

Resigning himself to twiddling his thumbs in detention all day, Killian sat back and tried to make himself comfortable. He stared at the ceiling for what must have been 20 minutes, avoiding getting on Coach Stark’s bad side - maybe he could get off early for good behavior?

Killian’s attention was pulled from the ceiling as the door to the classroom slammed closed. He sat up slowly before blinking his eyes rapidly to ensure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Talking to Coach Stark at the front of the room was none other than Emma Swan. Killian immediately sat up straighter. Emma glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still talking to her soccer coach.

When Coach Stark bent down to get a pad of paper and pen from his desk, Emma mouthed to Killian, “the windows,” as she pointed to said windows. He nodded and got in position to move from his desk while not arousing suspicion from the coach. With the in-charge adult’s attention on Emma, Killian tiptoed in the aisle between the desks to the row of windows lining the left wall of the classroom.

“So I think we really need to work more on our defense for the game against the Racoons,” Killian caught a bit of Emma’s conversation as he worked to silently open a window wide enough for him to squeeze through. Emma watched him worriedly with quick glances over to him. “Ruby is a great goalie, but the team needs to have her back when she’s down after blocking a shot.”

Killian cursed to himself when his jacket zipper got caught on the window. His eyes flashed to Emma’s. She put her hands on Coach Stark to keep him facing her. “I mean, if she’s down, I just think someone needs to step into the goal and cover for her.”

“Emma, why don’t we talk about this more at practice next week.” He turned to sit back at his desk, but a quick look at Killian showed Emma he was only half out of the window.

Acting impulsively and without any real thought, she eyed the corner of the teacher’s desk and walked forward as if to keep talking to the coach as he sat down. With a precisely placed foot, Emma tripped over the desk leg and fell straight to the floor. Her fall was met with a stinging in her left wrist, but as she looked to the window, Killian was nowhere in sight. Sighing in relief, she cradled her wrist with her other hand as Coach Stark bent down next to her to tend to her. She definitely injured her wrist, but if Killian got away unnoticed, it would be worth it.

Feeling the concrete under his feet, Killian was so thankful the detention room was on the first floor. He looked into the room to see Emma and figure out how she managed to get him out unseen, but she was nowhere in sight. Disappointed over not being able to see her and properly thank her, he started making his way to his car.

Halfway across the parking lot, he spun around at the sound of his name.

“Killian! Killian, wait up!” Emma was waving and running to where he stood.

“Swan,” he grinned as she caught up to him. “Thanks for springing me from detention.”

“Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been so pissed that you wouldn’t take advantage of me in your car, you never would’ve ended up there.”

“I don’t regret it, you know.”

Emma’s eyes flashed downward as she blushed just enough for Killian to notice.

“Hey, Swan, what are you doing now?”

“Heading home to read, I guess. Or I have some homework I could do.” Truth was she was going to go home to ice her wrist; it was hurting like crazy.

He really hoped the interest he saw in her eyes was really there. “Come on, Swan.” He walked to the passenger side of his car and opened the door. “In the car.”

“What? That’s really creepy, Jones.”

“And here I thought you weren’t afraid of me,” he joked.

Emma stuck her tongue out at him as she got into the car. The wrist probably wasn’t broken. It could wait. Once he got settled into his seat, Emma asked, “so what’s going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m taking you-” he booped her nose “-on a date.”

Killian took Emma to a harbor. Emma hissed when Killian took her left hand upon her getting out of the car, but she didn’t see any sign he noticed. He led her to a corner of the harbor where people were going out onto the water in little swan boats.

“The swans made me think of you, and I thought it might be fun.” He let go of her hand and scratched behind his ear. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just-”

Emma was a tad worried they wouldn’t be able to steer themselves and that they’d be stranded in the harbor, but she couldn’t chicken out when little kids were doing it. “It looks like fun. Let’s do it.”

He put a hand on her back as they walked to the man running the swan boat rentals. The boats were much bigger than Emma expected, and they were steered with two sets of pedals - one set for each of them. Killian helped her into the boat, then followed, impressively steady on his own. When they were in safely, they both found their pedals and took off. Emma was surprised how smoothly the boat moved through the water.

“We’re out far enough. Let’s just drift for a little.” She took her feet off the pedals and looked around. She felt so peaceful out there. The only thing keeping her grounded in reality was the stinging from her wrist. “You know, Swan, I thought, for sure, I was busted when I was halfway out the window. How did you keep the coach distracted?”

Not wanting to admit that she tripped on purpose to distract the teacher but accidentally injured herself, plus the fact that he’d make her go home if he knew she was in pain, she just shrugged, a smirk on her face.

Killian got the hint that she wouldn’t tell him. “So what’s your excuse then?”

“For what?”

“Acting the way we do.”

“I don't like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people’s expectations instead of my own?”

He was smart enough to know there was a reason for this, but he didn’t push for the backstory. “So you disappoint them from the start and then you're covered, right?

“Something like that.”

“Then you screwed up.”

Emma never would have expected him to say something like that. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve yet to disappoint me.”

Emma didn’t know what to say, so she just stared, wide-eyed.

After the silence went on long enough, Killian broke it. “So I think we should head back to shore soon. We have another destination or two.”

“Where are we going?” She had softened considerably, and she barely recognized her voice so soft.

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

After a gourmet grilled cheese lunch - he told her she went on and on about grilled cheese while she was drunk at the party - he drove them to a paintball arena. Putting the car in park, he looked at Emma. “Are you up for it?”

Emma was so excited, she momentarily forgot about the pain in her wrist. She should’ve figured he wouldn’t be into any of the usual boring date stuff; he’s never been boring.

So she played paintball and absolutely painted Killian multiple different neon colors. And then they made out behind a makeshift shield until their game was over and they had to leave. Emma’s wrist was throbbing by the time she got back to the school parking lot, but she’d never laughed that much ever in her life. She didn’t even care that it was going to take four showers to get the neon pinks and greens from her hair. Emma Swan was happy, and it was because of Killian Jones.

Back in the school parking lot, they sat on a curb drinking milkshakes and talking.

“Can I ask you something?”

“How I’m so devilishly handsome? I’m afraid that’s a secret I can’t share.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Killian nodded for her to ask her real question. “What’s with the accent? I mean, you know how it is with people who act like us. The rumors are, frankly, ridiculous.”

“I was born in England. Lived there most of my life, until my mum got sick, my father abandoned me, and my brother died in the Navy. And there was the accident that gave me this,” he held up his left hand, which was a prosthetic. Emma had, of course, noticed before, but she had never given it thought.

“I’m sorry, Killian. None of those are rumors going around school. I never expected-”

“It’s okay, Swan. I moved here after all that. I didn’t want to be surrounded by those memories any longer.” She stared into his crystal clear blue eyes as he divulged his tragic past to her. “Became emancipated early on, so I live alone now. I have to support myself, but it’s better than being forced to face my father back in England, which is what I was supposed to do when Liam died.”

“Liam - your brother?”

“Aye.”

Emma felt like she really understood why he acted the way he did - it was much the same as the reasons she acted the way she did. They were kindred spirits.

“Enough of that for one date. It’s going to ruin the mood.”

“There’s a mood?”

“Well, I was hoping there was because I have something to ask you.” She waited for him to continue. “Will you go to prom with me?”

“Killian, I- no.”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “No?”

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?” She tried not to feel awful at his high-pitched, shaky voice.

“Because I don’t want to. It’s a stupid tradition.”

“People don’t expect you to go. You love surprising people.”

“Killian, I said no. Why are you pushing this?”

He broke eye contact. “Nothing, love. I just wanted to go to prom with the girl I fancy,” he huffed.

Emma sensed something was off. “What’s in it for you?”

“So now I need a motive to want to be with you?”

“You tell me.”

“Emma!” He threw his hands up.

“Answer the question, Killian.”

“Nothing.” He stood up in anger and headed back to his own car. “Nothing is in it for me. I just wanted to take you and give you a great night.” He stopped, turning around to face Emma again. “I know love has been all too rare in your life. It would do you good to not push it away when you have it.” Turning back around, he got into his car and slammed the door before driving away in anger. That certainly hurt worse than her wrist did.

Emma and Lily were at their lockers packing their backpacks before they headed home. Lily opened her locker to find a gorgeous dress with a note attached.

“Emma,” she smiled, “I have a secret admirer! He asked me to prom!” She held the dress up to herself and grinned even harder.

Emma wanted to be happy for her friend, she really did, but she wasn’t feeling it. So she forced a smile onto her face and told her friend to have fun at the dance before shutting her locker and heading home.

“Come in,” Emma muttered to whoever was knocking on her door. She was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Her TV was on, but she hadn’t been watching it for hours.

Mary Margaret didn’t enter the room, just poked her head into the door. “Just so you know, you’re not the only girl not going to prom. Dad said I can’t go because you aren’t. So, you know, if you want to stop hating yourself and do something, I’ll be around.”

Emma sat up. “Mary Margaret, wait.” Her sister walked in the room and sat on the corner of Emma’s bed. “I know you don’t like being stuck here just because I’m not dating, but don’t think I don’t care. I do care about your feelings, but I’m also big on doing something for your own reasons, and not someone else's.”

“But that’s selfish, Emma.”

“It’s protection.” She could see the questions in her sister’s brain. Emma decided she needed to tell Mary Margaret something she’d been avoiding for three years. “I guess Neal never mentioned that we went out, huh?”

Mary Margaret’s eyes widened.

“When we were freshmen, we went out for a month.”

“You hate Neal,” Mary Margaret pointed out.

“Now,” Emma corrected.

“Well, what happened?” Mary Margaret crawled closer to Emma.

“We - well, we - you know.”

Mary Margaret seemed to stop breathing. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I really wish I could.” Emma bit her lip before continuing. “It was only once. Mom had just died, and I didn’t know how to process anything. He kept pressing the issue, so I gave in and did it. Once it happened, things became - I don’t know - clearer somehow. I told him that was it; I didn’t want to do it again. He got mad and dumped me.” Taking a breath, Emma kept talking. “After that, I swore I’d never do anything when I didn’t want to just because someone else did.”

“Why hasn’t he said anything? That doesn’t make sense.”

“I threatened him - told him if he ever told anyone, then I’d tell people how bad he was at it.”

“But you didn’t tell me either, Emma.”

“I wanted you to make your own mistakes, I guess.”

Mary Margaret seemed to understand to an extent, but a part of her was clearly still mad at everything she’d missed out on. “You helped Dad keep me hostage!”

“I’m sorry. Not all experiences are good ones, Mary Margaret!”

“I guess I’ll never know.” With that, she stood up and went to her own room.

Emma sighed and fell back on her pillows. Welp, she was going to prom after all.

“Well, no one will expect this,” Emma mumbled as she stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a pale pink dress - it wasn’t a floor-length dress, but Emma in a dress was still something.

Emma grabbed a jacket and ran down the stairs as quickly as she could in heels. “Bye, Dad. I’m going to prom.”

Leo Blanchard didn’t even look up away from the television set. “Funny, sweetie.”

Emma kept walking, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Leo only looked up when he heard the front door shut behind her. Getting up and going to investigate, Leo found his youngest daughter coming down the stairs in a floor-length gown.

“What’s going on, honey?”

“Prom,” she answered perkily.

“Yeah, that seems to be the word of the night.” He paused to think for a moment. “So Emma-”

“Went to prom. For me, Daddy. So now I can go.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the front door, which Mary Margaret answered.

David Nolan stood on the other side of the door, jaw dropping to the ground. “Hi.”

“Hi, David.” She took a step out of the house and linked arms with him before addressing her father. “Remember how you said I could date if Emma dated? Well, she found this guy who’s actually perfect for her, which is actually kind of perfect for me, because David asked me to go to the prom, and I really, really, really want to go. And since Emma went, I guess I’m allowed to.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” David extended a hand out to Leo, who shook it.

“I know every cop in town, young man,” Leo stared down David.

“Noted.”

“Okay, David. Let’s go.” Mary Margaret pulled David to his car, waving goodbye to her father on the way.

Wandering around the ballroom hallway aimlessly, Emma came face-to-face with Killian, dressed in an all-black tux.

“Wow, Swan. You look stunning.”

“And you look-”

“I know.” He smirked, and she laughed.

“Where did you get a tux?”

“Just something I had lying around.”

“Oh?”

“Where’d you get the dress?”

Emma grinned. “Just something I had lying around.”

“I wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but” he pulled his hand from behind his back, and in it was a single red rose.

“Thanks.” She took it, still smiling. “So, look; I’m really sorry I questioned your motives. I was wrong.”

“All forgiven.”

“So, are you ready to do this thing?”

Meanwhile, back at the Blanchard household, Leo was interrupted from his favorite show yet again when the doorbell rang. He opened it to find Neal Gold standing on the other side.

“Hello, Mr. Blanchard. I’m Neal. I’m here to pick up Mary Margaret.”

Leo narrowed his eyes before telling him, “she’s not here,” and slamming the door in his face.

Back at prom, Emma and Killian walked into the ballroom hand-in-hand. Emma immediately spotted Mary Margaret dancing with her date. Mary Margaret noticed Emma, too, mouthing a “thank you” and smiling at Emma and Killian’s entwined hands.

“Have you seen him, Emma?” Emma spun around on the spot to find Lily looking frantic.

“Who?”

“My secret admirer! He said he’d be here, and he’s supposed to have a purple bowtie.”

“Lily, I don’t know how to tell you this, but-”

“Lass,” Killian tapped Lily on the shoulder and pointed toward the front of the room, right in front of the stage.

Lily ran over to her secret admirer, none other than August Booth, who greeted her with a kiss on the hand.

Turning her attention back to her date, Emma tucked the rose into Killian’s jacket pocket.

“So do we dance?”

“Yes, but wait thirty seconds.”

“What?” Emma furrowed her eyebrows. “Why do we have to wait?”

“Song’s ending.”

They both clapped as the band finished a song. The next song started playing, but the band’s lead singer wasn’t singing. Emma recognized that voice.

“No way!”

Killian was grinning ear-to-ear.

“It’s Avril!”

“I called in a favor.”

“You did this?” He shrugged, ears tinged red. She stepped up onto her toes and kissed him.

By the time they pulled away, the song was a quarter over. When they finally parted, Killian held out his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

“Of course.”

Freshening up in the bathroom, Mary Margaret was joined at the sink by Tamara.

“I just thought you should know that Neal’s here with me tonight.”

Mary Margaret froze. “Well, he’s all yours, Tam.”

“How generous, Princess.” Tamara checked her makeup and smirked as she turned to face Mary Margaret. “And just so you know, Neal only liked you for one reason. He had a bet going with his friends. He just wanted to get in your pants tonight.”

Mary Margaret dropped her phone into the sink as she stared at Tamara, who strutted out of the bathroom.

Back on the dance floor, Emma and Killian continued to dance.

“How are you so good at this? I usually have two left feet when I dance.”

“You’re a soccer player.”

“I can play soccer. I can’t dance.”

Killian pressed a kiss to Emma’s cheek and pulled her impossibly closer.

“Lucky for you, there’s only one rule for dancing: Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Emma threw her head back with laughter as Killian’s eyebrows jumped.

Unfortunately, their dance was interrupted by Neal, who grabbed Killian’s shoulder and pulled him aside.

“What the hell is Mary Margaret doing here with that asshat? I didn’t pay you to take out Emma so that some little punk could steal Mary Margaret from under me!”

Emma actually gasped out loud at the revelation. The hurt flashed over her. She confronted Killian. “Nothing in it for you? Yeah, right.” Emma ran from the ballroom, tears already falling. Killian followed.

“Emma, please let me explain.”

Emma turned to him, not caring how she looked mid-crying fit. “You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate. I knew it.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really? What was it like - a down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

“No. No, I didn’t care about the money, okay? I cared-” he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I cared about you.”

She stared him down for a minute, neither of them talking. She shook her head. “You are so not who I thought you were.”

Neal went straight up to David, flaring with anger, and punched him in the nose. David fell to the ground.

“Oh, come on. Get up, you wuss.”

Neal turned around to leave, just in time to be socked in the jaw by Mary Margaret.

“What the hell, Mary Margaret! I have a modeling gig tomorrow!”

“That’s for making my date bleed.” She punched him in the nose. “That’s for my sister.” She kneed him in a particularly sensitive male area. “And that’s for me.”

Watching Neal rolling on the ground, Mary Margaret helped David up, asking him, “are you okay?”

Despite the blood flowing from his nose, he grinned, answering honestly, “never better.”

Emma was listening to music in her room when Mary Margaret walked in with a mug.

“Hot chocolate and cinnamon.”

Emma took the mug. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to lunch with David and me?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’ll be fun,” she gently nudged Emma with her elbow.

“It’s fine, Mary Margaret. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you to prom. And everything with Killian. You’re miserable because of me.”

Emma took both of her earbuds out. “It’s not because of you. It’s because of Killian and Neal. And I’m glad I went. Now I know.”

“Well, I really appreciate that you went last night. It means a lot to me.”

“I’m glad you had a good night.”

The girls were interrupted by a knock on the front door. “That’s probably David.”

“Go, Mary Margaret. Have fun, okay?”

Mary Margaret nodded as she slowly left Emma’s room.

Emma’s next guest was her father, who came in basically as soon as her sister left.

“So tell me about the prom. You seemed pretty upset when you came home.”

“It wasn’t all bad, I guess. Parts of it were fun.”

Leo made himself comfortable on the bean bag chair on Emma’s floor. “Which parts?”

“The part where Mary Margaret beat the crap out of this guy.”

“Mary Margaret did what?”

“Are you upset I rubbed off on her?”

“No. Impressed, actually.”

Emma was thrown off by her father’s approval.

“You know, when you moved in with us, Emma, your walls were up pretty high. Over the years, you let them down and opened up to us. Then your mother died, and you closed yourself off again. You haven’t been the same since the accident. But these last few weeks, you’ve been almost happy.” Emma took a sip of her cocoa. “You don’t tell me much these days, but whatever was going on, I liked seeing you smile again.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just - everyone I’ve ever loved left me. I was abandoned as a baby, the one family I felt a part of before yours gave me back, and then Mom died. I just didn’t want to feel like that again. But now-” Emma sighed.

“Emma,” Leo started, “why do you think I refused to let your sister date? I wanted to protect her from that. You know, I still don’t know how to deal with it sometimes.”

Emma looked at her father, feeling an understanding for the first time in years.

“But I promise, Emma, your sister and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“You can’t guarantee that.” Emma wiped a tear falling down her cheek.

“I know. But-”

“I know.” Emma smiled at her father before putting her mug down and hugging him. “I’m sorry about the last three years.”

“Oh, Emma. No. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Leo stood up to leave, things cleared up between them for the first time in years. “Whatever has you feeling down again, I hope it gets worked out.”

“Me too.”

“I assume everyone has found the time to complete their sonnets,” Mr. Pendragon opened class. “Anyone brave enough to read theirs aloud?”

Every student in the room tried to avoid eye contact with Mr. Pendragon so they wouldn’t be called on.

“Anyone?”

Emma slowly raised her hand. “I’ll do it.”

Killian’s head jerked up, and Mr. Pendragon expected the worst.

Emma grabbed her notebook and went to the front of the room. Opening it to her bookmarked page, she started reading, keeping her voice as monotone as her emotion would allow.

“I hate the way you talk like that and the way your hair stands up. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb jacket and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick. It even makes me rhyme.” Emma paused, then continued, slowly feeling the emotions bubbling over. She took a deep breath. “I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.” Emma wiped her eyes and continued, crying in front of the whole class. “I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.” Fully crying and not able to cope, Emma clutched the notebook to her chest and took off out the classroom, not risking a look at Killian.

After school that day, Emma walked to her car, more than ready to go home after the day she had. She opened the door of her car to put her backpack on the seat, and she was met with a brand-new guitar. She threw her backpack into the backseat and pulled the guitar out.

“No way!”

“Nice, huh?” Emma swung around to see Killian smirking behind her.

“Yeah! Is this- is this for me?”

“Aye. I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. I also may have talked to your sister. She said your mum used to play.” He talked to her sister for her?! Emma wasn’t sure what was more shocking - the fact that he spoke to her sister for intel or that her sister kept the whole thing a secret. “Besides, I had some extra cash. You know, some asshole paid me to take out a really great girl.” He closed her car door and leaned back against it.

Emma couldn’t quite keep from smiling. “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” he scratched the spot behind his ear. “But I screwed up. I - well, I fell for her.”

Both of them blushed at the confession.

“Really?”

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s always been you.” She balanced the guitar against the side of her car before grabbing the lapels of his leather jacket and pulling him to her, kissing him hard.

He pulled away but kept his face within mere inches of hers. “It’s not every day you find a girl who will sprain her wrist to get you out of detention.”

“Oh, god. You were never supposed to know about that.” She laughed anyway. He peppered her face with kisses - her cheek, her chin, her jaw, her nose. She pushed his head away when he got back to her lips. “You can’t just buy me a guitar every time you screw up, you know?”

“I know. But there’s always drums and bass, and maybe even one day a tambourine.” He kissed her as her grin grew.

She broke the kiss apart again. “And don’t just think you can-”

He shut her up with a kiss. And this time, neither one pulled away.  

[neni-has-ascended]

Any thoughts on the new SU episodes from two weeks ago?

So, in general I was very pleased by how the decided to handle this storyline. In general it wasn’t quite as explosive as I would have hoped, but nevertheless very satisfying. That doesn’t mean it was flawless, of course (what ever ist? I do think there’s quite a few things that could have been executed much better) but it did avoid quite a few terribly annoying tropes while playing into a lot far more pleasant ones.

I’m taking the more detailed view of mine under the cut, to avoid spoiling latecomers!

SPOILERS START HERE

Now we’re only falling apart:

I’m glad the fantheory that Sapphire was gonna betray the CG turned out to be bullshit. It would have been terribly out of character for her to betray her friends and love over something that a person who, for all intents and purposes, is already dead did. Now, running away and crying over it? That I can get. 

What needs to be understood about Sapphire as a person is that she doesn’t just hate the Unknown; she is terrified of it. Thanks to her futurevision, there has almost never been a time in Sapphire’s life when she’s felt like she couldn’t guess the correct course of action in any given situation, or when she didn’t have an idea of what was going to happen. Even Steven’s character development throwing off her calculations wasn’t so bad as that she was completely blindsighted. The one other time this has happened before was when she hooked up with  Ruby and then she had, well, the fact that  at least it led to Ruby and her saving one another to comfort her. Here? She must feel like shes done everything right in a Visual Novel game and yet the script STILL somehow tossed her into the worst possible ending route. I’d ragequit too! 

As for the revelations regarding Pink: They were exactly what I already assumed from the moment of the twist. I knew this was probably exactly as it happened. Pink was naive to what it  meant to colonize a planet, and when she figured out she got sick in the stomach from realizing what’s going to be lost by the end of it. And of course, her sisters didn’t listen, because they’re Blue and Yellow and Blue and Yellow don’t listen to anything that doesn’t align with “the old order”(TM).That Rose Quarz as such, design and all, was Pearl’s idea, surprised me positively. I really like that detail. It shows that Pearl had so much creative potential right from her creation that was being squandered by her assigned role as a servant and only goes to show how flawed the Diamond’s hierarchy of thinking living minds of any sort could be forced into specific castes is. Pink being a little *too* excited at the prospect of fusing with Pearl (or any gems in general) was pretty cute too. She really just wanted to enjoy life. I am starting to feel like each Diamond represents one aspect of the mind; Yellow is cold logic, Blue is emotion and Pink is passion (which can lead into love). Makes me wonder what White is. 

What’s Your Problem

I’ll admit, I was faked out at first. I genuinely thought  season 1 Amethyst was suddenly back at it again, just not caring about the consequences of her actions. When I realized this was actually her slightly misguided attempts to keep Steven from destroying himself over the fiasco his mother caused, I was very positively surprised. Steven really said it best: Amethyst and Steven are the two Crystal Gems who have grown the most as people thanks to overcoming the questions regarding their places in the world. Also, Steven being so incredibly insistent about playing therapist for her kinda reminds me of how I can be with my friends as well, ahaha- Actually, my friends are often like Amethyst in this episode too.

The Question

A RUBY EPISODE YES YES YES YES-

Honestly, I hope that now that Ruby and Sapphire are married and have that to validify their bond aside from their fusion, we’ll see more episodes with them acting independently. As much as I like them as a unit in Garnet, I love them as individual characters as well, especially in how they bounce off each other, something usually only see when Garnet struggles with herself briefly. (Still wanna see them play Meat Beat Mania against one another, and see if that’d lead to the same disaster as when they played it as Garnet-) 

Ruby was adorable in this episode. Charlene Yi may not be a good singer (sorry-) but she is an amazing actress, who I always love to see in anything, no matter what, when she just nails this flaming little ball of nervous badassery whenever she’s on screen. Hope Sapphire ends up sharing her newfound love for comics. Wouldn’t it be cool to see Garnet argue with herself over ships in the background of an episode sometime?

My only complaint is that the proposal could have been an episode all on its own. I would have loved to see more of Ruby and Sapphire deal with coming to terms with the fact that their fusion can’t always be 100% stable and that’s okay and doesn’t make then any less of an amazing couple and team. Doesn’t change the fact that the proposal was cute as heck. Like, I swear, Ruby is a million times better at proposing than me. When I proposed I just ended up flipping the table over my plans halfway through and throwing the ring at him like a moron-

Made of Honor

Should have been a Two Parter. At least. Like, goddamn, this was way too important a plot point to just throw it out in a single 10 minutes segment, you guys! This just continues to show the problems with the Steven Bomb format. This thing needed to end on a climax after 5 eps, right? Not sure if that’s how it was planned, probably not, but that’s what it felt like. There should have been more of a storyline with Bismuth running of and trying to figure out stuff, kinda like Ruby. Heck, maybe those things should have overlapped somehow, I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything brilliant off the top of my head. However, Steven should have had to invest way more effort  into patching things up with Bis’. Bis’ just learned that her entire style of life was built on a lie. I would have been interesting to see her just go into a state where she randomly starts building spires, trying to fulfill her purpose again in utter defeat, until Steven snaps her out of it. That would have conveyed things a bit better. 

I have no problem with Bismuth rejoining the team. She saw that her plan of assassinating key figures in the enemy forces only lead to the entire rebel army basically being nuked.That definitely was enough to shock her out of her genocidal intentions. So yes, I do accept that explanation. In the end she was just as naive as Pink, but in a different way.

Reunited

Let me get out of the way that the first half was all kinds of amazing for one single reason:It had a marriage scene that a) Didn’t come at the tailend of the story and b)Didn’t involve pain and disaster for everyone involved! I’m so sick of marriages in media only being used either as elements of an epilogue (”Happily ever after!”) or as a source of drama. As if working relationships were boring or something. They’re so interesting, especially when written right! Totally ignoring the gay aspect of it all (which is a great thing all in of itself), this is one of the best marriages I’ve seen on TV period! No arranged marriages, no annoying love triangles, no jackass suddenly bursting in going “I OBJECT TO THIS UNION” no bride suddenly bursting into tears because everything is horrible, no “And they lived happily ever after SHOW OVER” BS. Just a proper, nice step in the development of two characters. Also, Garnet’s dress is friggin’ gorgeous

The second half is where the special loses me a bit. Not with the script, that one is pretty great. Aside from once again relegating Peridot to comic relief, that is- Seriously, she can’t even get to use a single attack drone? Tch. Cheep. She has actual skills, you guys! Don’t treat her like a Magikarp! User her assets! 

What lost me was the art direction and animation. While there was a lot of beautiful animation, especially on Blue Diamond, there was also plenty of derp, slow scenes, awkwardly choreographed battle moves... And the way Stephen using his telepathy to resolve the battle was portrayed visually was just very uninspired. It made the characters’ movements look so awkward. I wish they’d invited Horikoshi back in for this scene, because he managed similar scenes back in “Mindful Education” way better. Oh well... All in all, the art direction of that specific scenes just left me deeply underwhelmed.

All in all, however, this has been a very nice storyline so far. Can’t wait for the pay-off!

[gotgifsandmusings]

Will you be doing a write up about your thoughts on Solo? Really curious and excited to hear your detailed thoughts on the movie and why you thought it was so bad!

Ideally I’d have had time today for a very thorough write-up or video, but I can at least give my quicker take now.

FULL SPOILERS FOR SOLO BELOW.

I mean...we know where the character ends up.

But still.

FULL SPOILERS FOR SOLO BELOW.

Here we go.

The unofficial tagline of this movie should be, “hey, if you think SJWs are ruining Star Wars, this is the film for you!” Or maybe “If you’re still really really angry about the EU being nixed, come watch Solo.” And most definitely, “If you feel TLJ ruined the integrity and fiber of SW by ‘shitting on the fans’, pandering to liberals, or giving us Rose Tico, grab a bucket of popcorn!”

(And yes, I know TLJ is polarizing from all sides of the fanbase.)

This was, without question, a movie that plays into all the worst instincts of the white, male gatekeepery segment of the SW fanbase. And I mean, it’s a fucking Han Solo prequel; I sort of expected misplaced badass worship going into this, because most people seem to miss that Han is an adorable puppy dog.

Now, to be clear, I honestly went in with an open mind. I was never particularly excited this movie existed, since Han is the second most boring choice from the OT for a prequel (Luke clearly being the first). However, after learning Ron Howard took over and seeing the trailer, I had a feeling that while I wasn’t likely to love this movie, it might still give me a fun ride.

It was so weirdly not fun at all. Like, it’s paced very strangely. We’ve got Han’s opening sequence where he escapes Corellia (and leaves his gf behind), a sequence that sort of catches us up to his time as an imperial soldier (they mention him getting kicked out of the navy in one sentence, and given that’s where he learned to fly, it felt strange) and defects because he hates these purposeless horrifying wars (that’s why you always bring a clone!) and meets Chewy in the process (oh hey he happens to speak Wookiee), a train robbery sequence where we watch Thandie Newton get squandered and we’re not given any real reason to care about this being successful (they tried with some bullshit that he could go back to Corellia for his gf with the money, but that relationship was never exactly established), the Kessel run team assembly and run after meeting the Crimson Dawn organization (and surprise...his gf!), and then what I guess is the final showdown following the Kessel run that involves “betrayals” with people who never promised each other anything, set-up for a Qi’ra spinoff with Darth Maul (??), Han being totally onboard with the rebellion but he won’t go with them for reasons, and then the final winning the Falcon scene to fill in all the gaps, as he heads to Tatooine to go work for Jabba right away.

So, there’s all these pieces, and it kind of has the feeling of playing through a level in a video game. You’re sitting waiting for the next cut-scene, because during the mission itself, there’s not any reason to particularly care about the stakes. I suppose you vaguely want Han to survive, and Lando, but there’s really nothing that this movie seeks to say or explore other than “here’s what happened.”

Which just...isn’t centered around a character worth that exploration, I’m sorry. Han begins the OT as a “look out for myself” struggling smuggler, and very quickly finds himself compelled by something greater than himself. This movie couldn’t get him there, but then they couldn’t think of a reason how to not get him there, so he just randomly chooses to go off and be a pirate.

The one tenuous thread is “trust nobody,” and surprise surprise, his romanticized teenage girlfriend has ambition in a crime organization and after telling Han she’s going off with him, she doesn’t. But there’s nothing that connects that moment to Han then going and giving over the fuel to the Rebel Alliance that had showed without asking for anything in return. Also, after that moment, Han is stranded on a planet that has nothing but desert lean-tos and an oil refinery. The whole movie he was just trying to get to a place where he could be ‘free’ and ‘explore’ or something (like a Disney Princess?), driven by his great love. There’s really nothing that would have logically stopped him from becoming a rebel at that point in time. Was it distrust? Because then why did he just hand over the fuel out of the goodness of his heart? 

Sorry, this is a rabbit hole. Things happened because they happened. The great untold story of Han Solo is apparently “I got dumped by a girl I didn’t think would dump me, and that made me a sad loner for 20 years.” To be frank, there’s really nothing that particularly connects this character to Han Solo in ANH. Other than significant dice ownership, I guess.

What makes it worse is that there’s so much idiotic “AHA, we filled in THIS moment!” Like, the music literally swells any time something ~iconic~ from the OT happens. Han gets handed his blaster (it’s literally a random gun) and we recognize it. MUSIC!! Chewie sits in the copilot’s seat. MUSIC!!! The dialogue is even clunkier than that. “Chewbacca, huh? I’m going to need to think of a nickname for you.” “You’re the good guy, Han.” “I know a gangster on Tatooine who always is looking for work.” I have never groaned or rolled my eyes more during a film than I did for this one.

It’s the anal “every detail needs explanation” style of writing that plagued the EU, and kind of led the SW fandom to that stupid, curative gatekeepery vibe it held for so long. Not one single thing actually pushed on any ideas of the OT, or took a remote risk, or was even inventive. 

Then there was the very angry stick the writers decided to shake. You know who sucks? SJWs. Let’s make them a big ol’ joke! So we had a droid that was for droid-rights, in a very “played for laughs” kind of way. At one point Lando asks if she needs anything, and she says “equality?”, and he just rolls his eyes. At another point she starts a droid and slave revolt on Kessel, and he’s like, “oh that stupid droid is at it again!” Quite literally a straw-feminist who got in the way, was so shrill and annoying with her demands, and then got herself blown up. Lando even full on says he would have had her memory wiped, but she has useful navigational information.

And really, the whole movie just felt pandering to the fans who would appreciate those jokes. The ~sanctity~ of Star Wars and Han wasn’t touched or questioned in any way, and written with such self-congratulatory dialogue it was legitimately embarrassing to watch.

My favorite example is the Darth Maul scene. It’s not really work getting into, but at the end, Qi’ra talks with him via hologram, and he’s the leader of a crime organization sorta in league with the empire. (Does he know Palps was Sidious?) It’s very clearly Maul, but first he lowers his hood. Get it? Then he stands up and shows us his robot legs. Get it??? Then he force-calls his lightsaber to him for literally no reason, because the conversation is basically her pledging her devotion and not needing to be convinced or threatened in any way. THEN he lights it up and it’s his iconic double-sided blade. GET IT????

I could not stop laughing, and Griffin ended up having to poke me in the sides because I think the people in the row were starting to turn around. 

I honestly think this is a worse film than the prequels. There was no reason for it to exist, and no story it was even trying to tell. Lucas’s story was pretty terrible for Anakin and the rise of the Empire, but at least it existed. It also felt kind of revenge-fic-ish in a way that’s sort of hard to articulate.

Donald Glover was the one shining spot of the movie (even if he uncomfortably had to roll his eyes at the concept of equal rights), and it really just makes me sad it wasn’t his prequel in the first place. 

Also, Qi’ra is the most non-character character I’ve seen yet. She has pretty much no personality, and then the big ~reveal~ at the end that she betrays Han is kind of like, “okay?”, since we have no grasp on what she’s been up to, or what her motivations are at all. We know she thinks Han is hot. That’s it.

Anonymous said to gotgifsandmusings:

Is Solo trying too hard to be Guardians of the Galaxy?

No, it demands to be taken seriously. Which is not helping its cause.

I guess this ended up being longer than I expected. I really was in the mood to see something that was just kind of, “eh, this isn’t great, but it’s fun enough,” and at worst I expected it to be in the “meh” category. Instead, I was actively cringing in my seat. My best hope is that I can appreciate it ironically in a few years. 

[miasswier]

miasswier’s ultimate glee ranking: no 77

77: Glee, Actually

Written by: Matthew Hodgson Directed by: Adam Shankman

Overall Thoughts: Okay, here’s the thing. This is an episode that like, I don’t hate it, but I don’t ever watch it unless it’s Christmas time, or I’m doing a full re-watch. The way that it’s sectioned off actually makes it really easy to skip the parts I don’t care about, and that way I can just focus on what’s nice about it. I think because of that, I often get a skewed perspective on the level of enjoyment I get from this episode, because actually sitting through all of it is… a bit brutal. But just watching the good parts makes for a great twenty or so minutes.

What I Like:

In Artie’s story:

Honestly, it’s got some pretty funny moments.

Rachel being so smitten with Artie is hilarious. Same deal with Kurt.

“That was so gay.” Bye

“Who’s Blaine?” Damn the drama

I love how they make a big deal about Kurt still being at McKinley but it’s not mentioned at all how Finn and Puck are still there, too.

Fucking having Quinn die of heartbreak because of no Glee I shit you not I always crack up at that like how fucking ridiculous.

In Kurt and Blaine’s story:

Honestly, most of it?

Burt surprising Kurt with a tree is so sweet, and the gift he gives Rachel is really adorable.

Even though it sucks that Burt has cancer, I feel like they did it justice and gave it the attention it deserved, and like, they totally could have used it as a plot device to just get Kurt and Blaine back together, but they didn’t, which I’m so thankful for.

Burt bringing Blaine with him to New York like my goodness what a great father.

The whole scene where Burt and Blaine bet on how long Kurt can watch basketball I die.

Blaine watching Kurt during “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” is so sweet and heartwarming like damn does he love Kurt.

In Sue and Marley’s story:

I’m not even going to go into details with this one, it’s literally all of it, I love every second of it. It’s such a great conclusion for the Marley bulimia story, and such a great way to remind everybody that Sue is an actual human being with feelings. Makes me cry every time.

In Brittany and Sam’s story:

None of it I hate every second and literally skip it every time.

In Puck and Jake’s story:

I guess the fact that they’re bonding is nice? And it’s cool that they finally did a Hannukah story. But really, not much. I usually skip this one too.

What I Don’t Like:

In Artie’s story:

A bit too long.

There is no universe in which Rachel Berry would be a mild-mannered librarian, not wanting to audition for lead roles. Even without Glee club. Fuck this shit, what the hell. Don’t do her so dirty.

It’s honestly so upsetting seeing Finn and Puck bullying Kurt again. Like, really upsetting.

Totally squandered Terri’s cameo.

In Kurt and Blaine’s story:

That “long, mature talk” they were going to have ends up being one sentence from Blaine. Sigh.

In Sue and Marley’s story:

None of it I love it all.

In Sam and Brittany’s story:

I’m not going to list everything that frustrates me because I’ll be here all day. It’s all of it. I hate every second of this story. I skip it.

In Puck and Jake’s story:

Honestly, kind of same as above? I usually skip it, too. I find it boring, which sucks, because I’d been waiting for them to do a Hannukah story for a while before this came out. But alas.

Songs:

Feliz Navidad: A fun song, and the reactions of the club are so funny.

White Christmas: I like this cover a lot, but why do we get more shots of the random straight ice skaters than we get of Kurt and Blaine?

Jingle Bell Rock: I don’t mind this cover but the performance annoys me for LITERALLY NO REASON, I honestly just hate this whole plot line okay?

Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah: A fun song, and a nice break from all the Christmas songs.

The First Noel: Such a gorgeous song, and it works so well in the context of the episode.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas: A great group song to end everything with <3

Final Thoughts: If I skip the Sam and Brittany and Puck and Jake stories, I enjoy this episode. Those stories, though, really drag the episode down. And, to be honest, I’m not a fan at all of the format they chose for this episode. I don’t know why they did it this way anyway, because it’s called “Glee, Actually”, and it’s not like Love, Actually is done in this way? I don’t know. Either way, it’s nice to watch the parts that I enjoy around Christmas time, but otherwise I don’t really bother with it.

masterpost

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Rakepick is like the opposite of Kylo Ren for me, personally. She's an inversion because she used to be an interesting addition to the Potterverse (by no means likeable but INTERESTING) as a flawed gray character. Then they made her a villain and now she's boring as shit. Kylo is the reverse. He started out as a neat take for the galaxy far far away: A neo nazi. Wannabe Vader who missed the point of what Vader was and was so damn privileged that there was no real reason for him to turn beyond selfishness. Then the sequels made him "complex" and ruined Luke Skywalker for the sake of justifying Kylo's fascism. I know you're a Reylo but tell me, was it worth it?

...Okay, I don’t want to sound cliché but to a degree, this kind of opened my eyes. 

Like, I’m now realizing as you talk about it, that Kylo Ren brought a new kind of villainy to the Star Wars franchise. One that is (unfortunately) very appropriate for modern times. If the dark times of the Empire represented Nazi Germany, well...the First Order could easily represented the rise of the “Proud Boys.” and thinking of Ben Solo like that...yeah, it hurts to think about him like that. But it’s true. Kylo Ren isn’t Hitler. He’s the angry white boy who believes Hitler should have won. Now, Star Wars has never had the racism aspect to it, at least not in terms of how it showcases The Dark Side. So it’s not as bad, but...it’s still bad. And Kylo Ren’s temperamental and immature behavior in the first film provided social commentary. He is, in every sense, a privileged character. We don’t see his upbringing, which means that Kylo stans can head-canon him as being abused, but...this has the same energy as turning Lucius Malfoy into an abuser to fuel Draco’s redemption. It’s just not true in these cases, and it shouldn’t be necessary to redeem the villain if they deserve it. 

You know, for the first time, I think I can really see why people hated The Last Jedi. I do not and probably never will agree, but...I understand. The path they took Kylo Ren on was compelling and well-acted, and I maintain that the reason given for his fall doesn’t ruin Luke Skywalker (That was a misunderstanding. It was arguably no one’s fault.) but the fact remains that they didn’t have to write it that way. Kylo Ren didn’t need to be redeemed, and even though he has sympathetic qualities...I think the best thing to come out of his character taking this route was how interesting a relationship he developed with Rey. Whether you ship it or not, the progression of their dynamic is one of the best parts of this trilogy, and it’s actually linear, unlike so much else. In every other way, these movies’ fixation on redeeming Ben Solo tied him to a destiny of recycling the story of Darth Vader. When in so many ways, this is the worst ending he could have had. Because he wasn’t Darth Vader. He never could be. That was the whole point. In the first movie, he was a wannabe kid, romanticizing the concept of being a “Dark Lord” through his grandfather. In the second movie, he let go of his hero-worship and proceeded to surpass Vader - succeeding his own master, something Vader never managed. Then in the third movie...he literally gets the exact same ending. 

In hindsight, after he rejected redemption twice...maybe that should have been the end of it. Maybe “Duel of The Fates” would have been better. What I see with Kylo Ren is an interesting commentary on the past, but the potential to stand out as something new. Potential that is squandered, and this doesn’t just affect him. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention Finn. The main issue with TLJ is that it was the beginning of Finn no longer being one of the two leads. For better or for worse (and most people would agree it was for worse) the role of male lead was usurped by Kylo Ren. I’m not going to say that was racially motivated, necessarily - I mean, he is the villain. It makes sense for him to be a major character...but it sure didn’t help, with how split the fandom already was. Finn is a far greater waste of potential than Kylo Ren. But I think Kylo’s wasted potential set off a chain reaction that ultimately doomed Finn as well. (See, it wasn’t Rose’s fault, now leave her alone.) Because in TLJ, the story became more about Rey VS Ben than the heroes facing The First Order.

On the whole, I don’t think it’s nearly as severe a change in characterization as Patricia Rakepick. Kylo Ren’s shift is far more subtle - he simply stops having tantrums, for the most part, and behaves far more calmly. Plus in his case, it’s easy to see why it happened. There’s a clear event that bridges these two phases of his personality - Han’s death. I think it’s safe to say that the last of Ben Solo’s innocence and naivete was snuffed out after he murdered his father. Which is, itself, another great example of how he would have perhaps been better as a mainstay villain. (We only got about two minutes of “Supreme Leader Kylo Ren” but it was just. So badass. Then Palpatine showed up and...ugh.) Rakepick doesn’t have any of that. There’s no logical reason for half of her actions, and still no explanation for half of the reasons why I feel inclined to doubt she’s truly evil...but more and more, it seems like this is just stuff Jam City forgot about...(Jacob’s Notebook. I will literally never let that go, it needs to come up again.) 

[thesffcorner]

Kill Creek

Kill Creek is a horror novel written by Scott Thomas. We follow Sam McGarver, a best selling horror author who is suffering from a massive writer's block. He has separated from his wife and is teaching at a university, while trying to write his next novel. He gets an invitation to do an interview for WrightWire, a pop culture website known for putting on massive, scripted shows, and he accepts, not realizing that not only will he not be alone during this interview, but it will also take place at the notorious Kill Creek Manor, a house with a dark and haunted past. The idea of this book sounded awesome; 4 horror authors have to spend a weekend at a haunted house for an interview; kind of like Until Dawn, but instead of teenagers the victims are masters of the genre and could therefore have a unique approach and even predict what the house would throw at them. The first half of this book was excellent; I liked the set-up, I liked the characters, the history of Kill Creek was suitably dark and twisted, and I really liked the direction of the plot. Unfortunately, as soon as the characters arrived in Kill Creek, much like his own lead character, Thomas’ story quickly devolved into cliches, nonsensical plot twists, characters acting completely opposite to what they did before for no reason, and this really interesting premise was squandered. The book never recovers from the wasted potential that is the interview, so I figure I should start with the positives. For a start, I appreciated that all of the characters, while not all likable, were at least relatable and consistent. With the exception of one, each character had an understandable starting point, and though they all end up doing questionable things, I still rooted for them, and wanted them to survive the book. I liked the way each character’s personal trauma and past informed the ways in which they interacted with the house, and for the most part found all of them equally intriguing, at the start. The house itself was really well done. A lot of the book relies heavily on the Southern Gothic tradition, which I enjoy. It’s a big house that has been abandoned for decades, in the middle of nowhere in Kansas, and it does all the things creepy houses do; cold spots, sounds, apparitions, power turning off and on, rooms that go nowhere, creepy crawl spaces, etc. I almost wish, considering the role the house played that we got to spend more time inside it, and really delved into it’s dark history, like Del Toro did in Crimson Peak. I also liked what we get to see of Sam’s classes. His 5 elements of gothic horror were brilliant and I kept reading the book wondering and theorizing about how everything fit in them. I also liked the interview, where Sebastian was explaining what true horror means to him; it was a great deconstruction of Lovcraftian horror and I really liked that the queer character was the one who gravitated most to it. There were other scenes that left an impact: Sebastian seeing Richard for the first time, Sam hugging Wainwright after he tells them what happened to Kate, his stunt with the Underground, Daniel mourning his daughter. The moments of humanity and genuine kindness made me root for the characters, which is something modern horror desperately lacks, often treating its characters like disposable blood bags. Unfortunately, there are more issues than positives. Now, I am by no means a purist; different genres can borrow and modify elements from each other, as even Sam points out in his lecture. There are elements that make a specific piece of work ‘Gothic’ horror, but that same work can also fall under the slasher, body horror or even religious horror category. What Thomas is essentially trying to do here is to take 4 genres of horror fiction: Lovcraftian horror, southern Gothic, slasher and erotic horror and piece them together into one book. And the effect is much the same as the one you get at the end of Cabin in the Woods; confusing, predictable and not particularly effective at any of the genres. I am never scared of Gothic horror; the most I am, is unnerved or unsettled. However, when I watch/read anything pertaining to torture-porn, body horror or even slasher, I am terrified, and there wasn’t a single point in this book where I was even slightly unsettled. Gothic horror and straight up slashers don’t mix, at least not the way Thomas has done it here. For example, we have quiet scenes of Sebastian being haunted by the mistakes of his past, the dread of losing his memories, losing his ability to tell stories, and in the same breath we have Moore getting the shit kicked out of her, or Kate slicing her arm open, Ghosts of Mars style. These simply don’t work together, and the end result is an uneven feeling throughout the book where I’m not sure what I should be scared of, because anything goes. The other main issue was the horror element. The idea that the house was never evil, but people believing that it is made it haunted was just… unsatisfactory. How can rumors actually make a house haunted? And I don’t mean, oh because people think this place is bad, anything even remotely strange or distressing that happens in it is automatically prescribed to the location; no I mean somehow people’s notions that the house is haunted created or called a primordial, decaying evil that has a physical form, and can take on the shape of specific people enough to fool others that it is human, save people from dying, and also kill them in unrelated bus accidents? What? The ending was such a mess, because there are no rules to this creature! It can do absolutely anything, and there was no suspense left in the climax or the epilogue, because I knew exactly what would happen. Thomas just borrows tropes from other horror works, and does nothing to subvert them; he just let’s them play out with no critical eye, which is why we get such a dumb Bloomhouse ending, to what was otherwise a book that really seemed to respect the genre and it’s traditions. There were also major issues with the characters. Let’s start with the ones I had the least amount of problems with: Kate, Wainwright and Sebastian. Kate was boring as hell; she had no personality other than being southern and black. There is a line in the book about how her dad would hate that she’s sleeping with Wainwright not because he’s her boss but because he’s white, which is a can of worms I don’t want to touch with a 10 ft pole. There was an attempt to tie her to the history of the house, seeing as a freed slave woman who lived there was lynched, but we know nothing about Kate or her relationship with Wainwright, other than he is white and she is black. Wainwright at least had a lot of potential to be interesting. There are hints to his personality throughout the first half which never pan out; he has daddy issues, he feels inadequate and like a fraud, he has a temper that fires off when things don’t go his way, he is willing to do anything for clout. I thought the reveal was that he would rig the house for the interview Until Dawn style, or he’d trigger the haunting with something he does, but nothing of the sort happens. I thought maybe his temper and aggressive streak might make him abusive to Kate, but that also never happens. Sam hates and suspects him, but there is no reason for it; he’s just a rich boy who gets way in over his head and nothing beyond that. Sebastian was the character I liked the most, but he was wasted on this book. He is old, he has been closeted his whole life, he has lost the love of his life to cancer, and his father to dementia and is now aware that he too is slowly becoming forgetful. How interesting would it have been if Thomas actually grappled with his past, the wife he betrayed by using her as a beard, his fear of losing his memories of Richard, his desire to remain famous or at least remembered because he himself is starting to forget. How novel to actually have a queer protagonist in a Gothic novel where their sexuality isn’t punished by death of suffering. But no, he’s just barely in the book, and though I appreciate that at least Thomas didn’t have a third act twist where he suddenly became evil, it was clear Thomas had no idea what to do with him. Then we get to the characters I actively hated. Daniel I liked for most of the book; I hated the way his character was treated by the author however. I have never seen such little respect for a religious character in anything; I legitimately felt like I was watching God’s Not Dead, except Daniel was losing his faith instead of finding it. If I had to guess, I’d say Thomas doesn’t like religion, and doesn’t have any interest in actually exploring the complicated relationship characters who are religious have with themselves, their church, their families and God. Daniel is religious because he survived a spider attack as a child, and though he seems to be questioning his faith, we never really get to see why, or what drives him to be a Christian author at all. Every debate Daniel has with Moore is dumb, and the way he answers questions is purposefully written to have Moore come out on top, instead of presenting reasons as to why a person would believe certain things. It came off as fake and disingenuous, especially because the relationship Daniel has with his daughter was so good, and the scenes with him and his wife at the house were heartbreaking. But then, because Thomas needs a villain it’s just Daniel, for no reason other than… Thomas hates parents and/or religious people. I also didn’t appreciate how many fat jokes the other characters made at his expense of how everyone treated him like he was dumb just because he was excited to be around authors who were his peers and influences. Then we have Moore, who was probably the worst female character I’ve ever had the misfortune of reading; worse than Mara Jade, worse than Razorgirl. She deserves to be taught in class as an example of how not to write female characters; a complete caricature of feminism, and ambitious career driven women. She’s rude, abrasive, a massive inconsiderate asshole that is constantly constantly defensive, takes every single gesture in the absolute worst faith but also still has to be a) straight and b) hot. I actually wouldn’t have minded a female writer who started out as an indie erotica writer whose work became successful and her writing darker. I liked that she was clearly an Objectivist with an Ayn Rand level of strict work ethic, who is also rude and unpleasant. But the way she was written made absolutely no sense, and her fucking insulting backstory, about how she was severely abused by her ex, was just the icing on this shit cake. She oozed with ‘I’m not like other girls’ and ‘strong women as imagined by men’; she has an unnecessary and frankly unbelievable romance with Sam, is the only one who is described to write in the nude and is also the token woman in the male group, and if I can say one positive about her character is that it at least stayed consistently rude and disgusting to the very end. Sam was clearly the writer insert character and for the most part he was fine; at least he read like a real, flawed human, not a human-shaped robot. There were many moments where he describes other male characters as beautiful or comments on how attractive their eyes or faces are, so I got excited that maybe this book would explore his sexuality, but no; he is a boring, bland straight protagonist. I appreciated that he had depression and anxiety and was actually being treated for it, I liked that he explored toxic masculinity in his stories, but there was still the ridiculous ‘romance’ between him and Moore, and the reason why he refused to tell anyone what happened to his mother was… unclear. Like he’s clearly an adult and mature enough to know that therapy works, but still childish enough to cling to what his brother told him to protect him when he was 10? Ok? Also I didn’t like that he made no effort to make things better with Erin and he still got her back in the end. If I could recommend half of a book I would, because everything in this novel, up until the authors have their interview was great. Everything past that point kept becoming more and more convoluted, and what made the book interesting, the characters and the mystery of the house completely unraveled. I would be interested to see what else Thomas has written, because there is a good story in him; it just wasn’t this one.

goodreads

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

FILM-REVIEW #1: The Rise of Skywalker (2019) *May Contain Spoilers*

So now with the craze of the holiday’s over and a new year beginning, I finally got the time over to view the movie which many has waited impatiently for ever since The Last Jedi (2017) famously split the fanbase in two. At least that’s what I’ve done.

Now before I start, I want to make something clear: I consider myself a Star Wars-fan. I recognize it as one of the most recognizable and cinematically significant film-series to ever be shown on any screen, big or small. I consider it one of the most iconic stories told in modern history, and a groundbreaker in many ways. However, unlike many other fans, who has this deep connection through their childhood, I do not. I grew up with other franchises, including Indiana Jones, Ghostbusters and the Police Academy-films. I didn’t really get into Star Wars until my teens, and while I am familiar with the Legends-continuity, I have never really read any of it. So basically, my view on Disney creating their own continuity is as neutral as it can be.

Because of this, some would probably consider me LESS of a fan, while others might argue that it makes me more objective when writing this review. Either which, I pride myself on being as honest as I can when it comes to movies, and that it is what I intend to be when reviewing this. 

So... How does the final part of the sequel trilogy hold up as a movie?

I am sad to inform that out of the three latest installments of the main films in the series, this is the one I enjoyed the least. While I enjoyed at least two thirds of The Force Awakens (2015) and half The Last Jedi, I’d say I liked about a third of this one overall. Mainly because it was... Messy.  

TROS suffers from many a things, including pacing issues, uneven tone, too much talking, a over-reliance on nostalgia and an unimaginative direction. Many creative choices feel rushed or made out of pressure, many clearly on account of the critique directed at TLJ. 

While I can’t say TLJ was without a few glaring flaws, the parts that were good were really quite intriguing and something that could be built upon. However, a majority of those ideas are either glossed over or downplayed here. This is especially disappointing, considering that the makers stated that their creative choices would NOT be influenced by the critique of the last film. I hate to feel cheated and lied to by members of the entertainment history; this felt like the Arkham Knight-identity thing all over again. Rather than going out with a bang and carving out more of it’s own identity for the trilogy, it felt like this movie this took a fearful step back and copped out with the most obvious direction that one could’ve imagined.  

Also, while exposition in itself is good, it needs space and timing in order to make an impact. The first good chunk of the movie is literally nothing but exposition and moving from location to location and character to character with barely any time to breathe! This movie was about two hours long, and it felt like about 20-30 minutes had been cut just out of fear of losing people’s attention. 

You’d also think that for what they marketed as the end of a saga (pffffft...!) would try and focus more on the development of familiar characters rather than introducing new ones. There’s like 10 new characters here whose roles could’ve been either scaled down or given to ones we already know. As they come and go, we have little connection to them as opposed to the ones appearing in earlier ones. This in turn makes the plot fairly bloated by the time of the third act. As a former Narutard it actually reminded of the end of the Naruto-manga; because it in the end didn’t dare to thin the massive cast or have the room to complete their arcs, it just felt all over the place. 

So with all this, you’d probably think I hate this movie. But no, not really. Yes, it is a quite annoying and a bit dissapointing, but it’s not like I’m going to burn my blurays or start a petition. To me, the biggest sin would’ve been if the movie had been boring/uneventful, like Attack of the Clones (2002) or Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), which I to be perfectly clear don’t really hate either (just almost). Boring this movie is most definably not. So, what was it about the movie that I actually liked?

Well, while the movie feels like it has too much of a hurry at times, it works well together with the action scenes. Several of the alien designs are memorable, and some of the new characters, such as the bountyhunter Zorri Bliss, do make an impression. The Emperor is back, and lets face it, despite the questionable feasability as to how that is possible, he is still quite good, though mostly through the powerful performance of Ian McDiarmid. To be fair, plenty of actor’s performances outdo moments of poor writing here; Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver giving the movie some of it’s most emotional moments. The character of Poe Dameron, which I’ve never really understood why people like, does have more of an engaging character arc her than in the previous two films. The few ideas that are further built upon from TLJ work well, and while most twists and turns are unimaginative, one or two are actually really, really GOOD.

So, in summary, what do we have here? Quite simply, not the worst Star Wars-movie ever, but quite possibly the one in this trilogy that squandered the most potential. Do I feel a little miffed? Yes. Is my life ruined? Of course it f*cking isn’t. One thing I’ve learned about Star Wars is that it takes more than a few bad installments to kill it, and judging by the overwhelming success of The Mandalorian, I’d say we’re only just beginning. How will people view the sequel trilogy and current spin-offs in 10 years or so is hard to say, but I believe that while some parts will age like wine, other will like a bowl of fruit, not too unlike the prequels. Maybe there is even a lesson to learn here for the future of the series; work out the basic outline from the beginning, and if something goes a little wrong, don’t lose your nerve, JUST STAY ON COURSE.

As a whole, I give The Rise of Skywalker the rating of 5/10. 

[shuncabbage-blog]

The way you disappeared in slow degrees has made a very patient man of me

The summer after I graduated from college I wanted to buy a purse. It seemed like a rite of passage. I had an apartment and a boyfriend and half a job. I had things to put in a purse. I was also living in southern California, which meant I could no longer stuff everything into the pockets of my coat.

It wasn’t only that, though. I had an idea that if you’re twenty-two and you buy a purse it’s going to be with you when you get your first real job, or your first promotion, or your first car, or the first time someone you love gets married. Eventually it will get dirty and threadbare, and chocolate will melt into the lining, and you will start ogling new purses, because what you have now isn’t really even an object anymore; it’s part of your history, and you need to move on. And so you’ll buy a new one--maybe by this time you’ll have the moral and financial capital to squander on real leather--and it will be fragrant and shiny and it will imbue trips to the pharmacy with a sense of glamorous potential, and you’ll see old pictures of yourself with your old purse, your first purse, and you won’t quite be able to believe the kind of person you used to be.

The short explanation here is that I was unhappy. Or I was happy--I was happy--but my happiness was papery and easily punctured. I was twenty-two years old and I was no longer doing the one thing I was really good at, which was going to school, and I had a boyfriend who was good enough at going to school that he probably wouldn’t ever have to stop. I was living in southern California and it was summer and it felt eternal. Los Angeles County seemed like a monument to all the things I’d always hated about summer: drought and monotony and stagnation, embodied in dust-brown buildings and a concrete riverbed and blandly-named streets lined with auto shops and frozen yogurt places that somehow, impossibly, made you thirsty.

So I wasn’t just trying to find a purse; I was trying to find a purse that would take care of all these problems by redefining me in exactly the right way. I wanted to see a purse in a shop window and know that it was going to be my constant companion until the lining rotted through. So I looked at shiny bags and slouchy bags and bags with buckles and even though I told myself that I was a real and functional person capable of owning any of them, I couldn’t convince myself to buy one. As soon as I came close to making a decision, I rushed to find fault: the buckle actually buckled, which would be a hassle, or the fake leather was too alligatory, or the strap wasn’t adjustable, which meant I would wind up performing some DIY strap-shortening with the wrong color thread, which would be a bad start to anything, let alone a heroic episode of self-reinvention. I didn’t want that. I wanted spontaneous, absolute certainty.

In the middle of my purse search I started making myself throw up. It was a strange thing. One minute I was too good to stick my head in a toilet and the next minute I wasn’t. When it was over I went back to my desk, red-eyed and shaking, and picked up where I’d left off. But I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I felt giddy and frightened and wide awake. I had never done anything that felt so thoroughly wrong, and yet at the same time it didn’t feel wrong at all. It felt perfect. It felt like walking past a shop window and thinking: Oh, I could have that.

I don’t mean that I approached bulimia consciously, as some sort of must-have coming-of-age accessory. By the time I was twenty-two I was already a veteran binge-eater and former anorexic. I wasn’t looking for a new disorder. And--apart from a few desperate and unsuccessful attempts to induce vomiting as a teenager--I had always looked at bulimia as the one thing I was too sensible to fall for. The wrongness in anorexia or binge-eating can seem like a matter of perspective, a violation of degree rather than kind; it can seem like an honest mistake. But there is nothing morally ambiguous about gagging into a toilet bowl until a blood vessel bursts in your eye.

And yet at least it was something different. Every time I’d resolved to stop bingeing, up to then, I’d remembered that line about how insanity is doing the same thing with different expectations. Bulimia was the embodiment of moral bankruptcy but at least it was something I hadn’t tried. Or I don’t know; maybe I didn’t think about it that hard. Maybe I was just bored and it seemed like destiny.

That first time my throat was sore for the rest of the day. My boyfriend brought home tennis rackets he’d bought for $10 and we hit a threadbare ball around on the courts near our apartment. The next day we were having a housewarming party, so we bought expensive cheese and cheap wine and spent an hour making a playlist and a little while longer dancing across the living room to it. When the party was over we sat on the couch and argued about what would happen if I got a better job somewhere else. He pointed out that after all the hard decisions and long distance we were finally stupidly happy and that it would be unfair of me to throw that away. I tried to tell him something I was too drunk to know how to say, which was that I had never thought I wouldn’t get my heart broken.

I didn’t throw up that whole weekend but I kept thinking about it. Not as an obligation, or a fear, or an obsession: as a present. It felt like a new pet, and I kept wondering what our life together was going to be like. Would I start purging all the time, as often as I could without getting caught, or would it just be a safety valve, a way to reboot when I was eating too much, and how good would I get at it, and would I end up in the hospital, or was it going to be OK?

I knew that it probably wouldn’t be OK. I knew that what I had done was unpardonable and that I would be devastated if anyone found out and that the only way no one would ever find out would be if I didn’t let it go too far and that I would almost certainly let it go too far. But I was willing to look past all this, as you do look past the small inconveniences attached to things you love.

The Wednesday after our housewarming I threw up half a package of Oreos at lunchtime and then bought the purse with the non-adjustable strap.

Enough time has passed now that I can tell you how this story ends. I don’t have that purse anymore. I don’t have the postdoc either. I told him about my eating disorder, eventually, after I was sure he must already know. He didn't, as it turned out. Once he knew I expected him to save me from it somehow, and the fact that he didn't made it easier to leave him when I finally did get a better job somewhere else. By that point the initial glow was long over. I binged wretchedly and purged inadequately, and I no longer knew how to be still.

I moved to a different country. I went into treatment. For a long time I was a person who could not be still, a person who dreaded weekends, and then I slowly stopped being that person, and now I am something else, sleepy, chubby, largely cheerful. I have a rewarding job, and I work hard but not too hard. I am alone a lot of the time and I feel OK about it. I’ve gotten so good at faking a healthy attitude toward food that I frequently fool even myself. I don’t throw up anymore, because a year or so ago, when my boyfriend found out that I occasionally still did, he got very worried. I do still indulge in small binges, but I've taken a few eating disorder quizzes online and they all seem to agree that I don’t have one. The possibility of reinvention is no longer supremely important to me--I no longer wake up every morning hating who I was yesterday--but I’m still drawn to the idea, and I have to remind myself of that classroom motto: We are what we repeatedly do.

There’s a sort of narrative etiquette attached to eating disorders. You’re not supposed to talk about them until they’re over. I don’t know that mine is over. I don’t know that it ever could be. I gave it fifteen years to metastasize; it’s everywhere now. But I don’t think it’s the most important thing about me anymore. If you’ve had an eating disorder it can be hard not to see it as the most important item on your resume (2003-present: perpetrator of cruelties (self-employed)). For a long time I couldn’t understand how anyone could know about my eating disorder and still see me as a normal human being. I didn’t want to be seen as a normal human being, of course; I wanted allowances to be made. I thought I was being judged unfairly by people too careless to see the truth. It took me far too long to realize that if people were acting like my eating disorder didn’t define me, it wasn’t necessarily because they were lazy or unimaginative; it might be because my eating disorder didn’t define me.

The second-best thing I can say is that no one defines me by my eating disorder anymore: not my doctor, not my boyfriend, not my mother, not myself. The best thing I can say is that I don’t want anyone to.