#This stunt was beyond cheap

[blackdigitalrose]

It has been a couple of days now and part of the finale has been bothering me and it is our alleged unicorn like deity of the series.

A grateful Niko

Even more gratitude off Niko...

And even more pleasantries, however,

Seems fair enough, worlds not being compatible, putting the denizens of her world first or just the fact there are extinct creatures under her care, which could cause all kinds of uproars if re-discovered etc, there are a few simple reasons you could explain it off. (Still, she could have left a suitcase with the group, she knew they were good and had them promise to keep it a secret.)

Also seems fair enough, the threat is gone and the problem has been solved. They no longer need them. Besides, Niko had threatened to strip them of their Precure powers when she first came onto the scene anyway. (Again though, what was the harm in letting them keep them, she could have just made them inactive, what if something else came along, they'd be defenceless.)

However, here's where the cracks appear, the Mirror stone is an extension of her power but here openly admits to it being its own sentient like entity. Niko had nothing to do with what happened.

So what in the blue blazes do you call this!?

If the Mirror stone is its own thing and their ability to turn human and talk was given by the Mirror stone, what right exactly did Niko have to take it away?

This just puts a really weird light on Niko and it isn't a good one. After all, it isn't like she really offers an explanation she just takes them. They succeeded not failed, yet look like they were punished, so in the end, it was a lose, lose situation. Fail to stop Subaru, powers gone, succeed in stopping Subaru, powers still gone.

On top of that not only do Daifuku, Komugi and Yuki get the short straw here, is this really how you say thanks for all their hard work and effort? Niko deals a major low blow to the lot she was suppose to be appreciative and grateful to and not only does she not mention anything, Niko just books it out of there with out a word, only for the human trio to discover the hard truth out on their own afterwards.

Which in short means, she just used the lot of them.

(Yes, the scene where they regain the ability to talk was super touching but it was completely unnecessary in the first place).

If anything, Niko could have actually been a better final villain, becoming like the very thing she detests through manipulation of the Cure group, the ones who have actually been loyal to her.

[buckevantommy]

they will absolutely never mention the Abby Tommy connection again. It was a cheap stunt that had zero impact on the rest of the story in 8x6 or beyond and Tim droped storylines that had way more sense than this one. Most of the people who watch this show prolly did not even remember the boyfriend that was mentioned years ago which is why they had Josh come in for an exposition dump cloaked in this masturbatory Glee speech. I also think the fact that the timeline does not fit AT ALL was the reason they cut the scene between Buck and Bobby that Oliver talked about. What was Bobby going to say? "Yeah, Tommy was engaged while he worked here to this women you were pining over for months and I never mentioned it not even when you started dating him"

Tim just has to pack is bags already and move to the spin off fulltime. He is creating a mess on OG

I mean yeah, it would be so easy to not mention it and it would track with how the show treats continuity - which sucks for most things but i will fucking welcome it for this. Also there's no reason to mention it, so. 🤞

'masturbatory Glee speech' has me chuckling because YES that's EXACTLY what it was! 😂 gawd i hated it so much.

What was the cut scene between Buck and Bobby? What ep was it supposed to be in?

But yeah - the og 118 would've known something about Tommy's supposed fiance, and also Josh? Did he work at dispatch same time as Abby? He would've known things. The whole thing just reads like someone who had a random plot idea in the middle of the night and wrote it down without remembering that previous plotpoints and established timelines and characters negate it, like it makes no sense, like it should've had a few more passes instead of rushing off the hot mess that it was to get published as the final edit, y'know?

If tim doesn't have the time or care to give these beloved characters the narrative they deserve then he should pass the torch now rather than run them into the ground. Because it's not just the Abby shit, it's the fumbling of Gerrard's storyline which should've focused on his bigoted bs and Tommy and Buck (giving their relationship more screentime and meaningful plot) and yes the rest of the diverse 118 should've played a key part in dealing with and dismantling that. But especially Tommy, given everything he'd mentioned about Gerrard and what we saw of the og 118 and Tommy mentioning his father - it was the perfect opportunity for some angsty backstory and the development of meaty dramatic plot.

And Hotshots? I was so looking forward to some actual meta fun but what we got instead was irritating, plot-hogging drivel and too much fucking Brad.

I still maintain that a great filler episode would've been Hotshots playing on the tv in the background of various scenes at the 118 and on calls and at their homes, the camera transitioning between on-set or high-def Hotshots scenes that pull out into rhe physical screens of tvs and then into whatever the firefam was up to at various points throughout the week(s). It might have started as a watch party for Bobby's premiere episodes and that kickstarts or clues us into certain firefam watching the show whether to poke fun and complain or because they like the dramatised plot. And they could've tied some of what was happening on the show into the 911 plotpoints.

Tim dropped the ball so hard this season (8A). The only episodes i enjoyed start to end and thought were written really well was the premiere with the bees and the halloween ep (although i think the car crash was a bit much, wish it was just a fun filler ep like the treasure hunt ep or the bank robbery).

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

hello! *Waves* I also grew up watching Top Gear! I still know nothing about cars, but it is still one of my favorite comfort shows. very difficult to watch given that I do not live in the UK, but we must persist in spite of the horrors

Brother! As hinted previously, I watched it religiously after school, and I think my stack of issues of the (mostly unrelated) Top Gear magazine makes even my other stack of issues pale in comparison. The show was buckets of fun, especially for a kid sometimes too little to realize how much of it was fake. (Upon understanding it, the idea of watching challenges with points scoring based on staged events made heaps less sense to me - I think Top Gear entertained the most when it executed silly ideas earnestly). And the trepidation with which I hunted down and devoured the magazines ridicules my current struggle to dear God read something. Growing up exposed to this constant stream of the most outlandish vehicles and stunts and fabrications did a lot for my creativity - I think it's where you'll find the roots of things like my Rice'n'Shine project. And I realize that those unfamiliar may read 'most outlandish vehicles and stunts and fabrications' as 'Ferraris, jumps, and clipshow-like segments pointing and laughing at tackily pimped cars', so, to exemplify just how far beyond that it got (and because I'm not getting a better excuse to bring this thing up anytime soon), here's a vehicle I've learned of from the show: the Bug Carver, or Vandenbrink Carver, or Carver One. The Carver.

No, it's not a contender for largest engine ever, quite the opposite. A mere 660cc turbocharged engine from a Daihatsu kei car, in fact, was housed between the rear wheels it powered. Most interestingly, however, is the whole assembly had pretty much only two solid points of contact with the rest of the body, which itself had a single wheel upfront.

One may expect severe issues with flex, but no siree. This car does not jiggle jiggle.

It folds.

And quite significantly, I might add.

One could consider it a motorcycle for those unwilling to give up a car's interior, or, considering the engine and rear wheels stay put and the lean is artificially induced by electronically controlled hydraulics, a car that wiggles its passengers about for funsies. (Well, mainly stability. But I can't imagine funsies weren't a factor.)

Some, instead, consider it a fighter jet for the road, or, more simply, buckets of fun. The most surprising thing, however, is what some consider it today, because while the Carver project did end in bankruptcy in 2009, it has recently been resurrected with an electric powertrain and an immensely uglier front.

And I can assure you, millions of people (whether they noticed or not) saw a picture of it in a scammy banner ad next to the title "cheap electric cars for seniors". Which is such a hilariously baffling picture choice I can't even fathom how it happened. Surely not over someone involved actually knowing the thing, because I cannot think of a single worse use case for a Carver than someone you can't even trust with a normal car anymore.

Well, I can't, but don't worry, Carver could!

Yep. What better vehicle to deliver pizzas with than Tilty McTiltface. So if you've been in the Netherlands and your niets pizza met links rundvlees turned up as a niets pizza met overal rundvlees, well, we might have a theory in our hands.

Links in blue are posts of mine about the topic in question: if you liked this post, you might like those - or the blog’s Discord server, linked in the pinned post!

[cemeteryspider]

Oh No!

Warnings: Heavy Sibling x Sibling implications. HL is gross and has an odd obsession with himself which will be a part of the story a little bit going forward. There will be nothing explicit but for reference Reader-Insert is of age and I'm thinking mid-twenties and Homelander is a little bit older since I'm pretty sure his age is never stated in the show. If you are looking for a Homelander x Reader THIS IS NOT IT!!!

Summary: You attend and event and try your best to sabotage yourself, Homelander, and Vought in the process.

Trigger Warnings: Abuse, Violence, Mental Health Issues, Controlling Relationships, Gross Sibling Relationship

Word Count: 785

Weeks passed and slowly you started recognizing yourself in the mirror again. You started with the small things at first like the old lipstick you pushed to the back of your cosmetics drawer because John said it made you look like a cheap hooker. Or the perfume he said invaded his nostrils and made him want to laser his own brain.

Still it wasn't enough to satisfy your insatiable need to piss off your brother and Vought International. So, you went all out. 

For the premiere of some stupid movie or other you wore a sheer dress with black lace swirls that left little to the imagination. Tall golden heels and had your makeup done by someone who did professional pornstars makeup. It made your back straighten and a real smile across your face for what felt like the first time in an eternity. You felt nothing like yourself, but at the same time you looked nothing like the mannequin Vought often used you as.

You loved it and hated it at the sametime. Nothing was going to get in the way of your night of crossing the line out from under Homelander and Vought’s shadow. Vought would later call this "little stunt", "unbecoming of America's number 2 supe", but you didn't care anymore. So you kept going above and beyond the outfit and makeup, you played the part of a ditzy beautiful drunk. 

More importantly you were showing the world you weren't John's little toy to play with nor were Vought's puppet they could make dance. You were someone with thoughts and feelings, and you were going to make sure the world did not forget this.

That night you were all over the big wigs in Hollywood, constantly drinking different drinks from dirty martinis to fruity pink cocktails to Miller Lite to get a buzz that your powers constantly wanted to stamp out. Walking around the party wondering who you would walk up to next, the man in the burgundy suit or the woman with diamond studded earrings. You felt intrigued by these regular people only here because of their lined pockets, and wanted to be able to know them and what their normal lives were like.

Still you went on, laughing too loudly at jokes made by people who didn't like you because they didn't know you. Drinking anything offered by anyone with a tray and casually avoiding your brother who seemed to be tailing you waiting for the right time to stop you from ruining the empire he and Vought had delicately built.

"You know," You slurred to an attractive woman on the red carpet, "We could make out higher than Vought Tower after this. You'd just need to hold on tight."

Her face flushed and you giggled at her sweet tomato red face. Then you felt a rough hand grip your upper arm tightly, "I think it's time to go."

You tried to wrench your arm out of his grip but nothing was working. Short of an all out fight you were not going to be able to free yourself, so you let him drag you out, grabbing a delicate glass of champagne on the way out the back, and waving to the pretty girl you had been flirting with for the past few minutes. 

"What the fuck do you think your doing. You're slobbering over our stockholders," He whisper-shouted at you once he dragged you out outside of the event by the dumpsters, but you just let a grin split your face in two.

"This is me John! You're just upset because I know exactly what I want and exactly who I want to be and you're not a part of either of those things. How does that feel, John? Not even your own genetic equal wants anything to do with you!" You full on shouted at him. Part of you hoped that a journalist was on the other side of the door recording the whole thing but you couldn't hear a heartbeat.

"You're drunk, Y/n. I'm not having this conversation with you. You're never going to get anything better than this," He scoffed and gestured to himself and the door. At this point the strong drinks were wearing off and leaving your system to deal with reality as it was and the puny flute of champagne was not cutting it anymore.

"No, John, I'm not. I'm done with this and I'm not going to be Vought's machine pumping out propaganda and fake saves anymore," He laughed in your face.

"Good luck with that. You're nothing without me." He took the door back to the event and you started to walk away.

"Yeah I guess we'll see about that."

[sometimeslapine]

[If You Can't Craft Your Rituals At Home…]

(mentions of inflation, setup for a story to come...)

She stood on the sidewalk, spending an inordinate amount of time just… staring at it. It was one of those kinds of things acting under rules you'd only ever hear mentioned in hushed rumors, yet the ruleset it flew by was overplayed enough to land itself as a named trope. Almost by intent, it was bland and easy to miss. Knowing of its existence wasn't enough; you had to be fully determined, stubborn beyond reason in hunting it down again and again, else that first time you stumbled across it as a matter of some convenient plot device would also be the last. It wasn't here yesterday, and if what her own research into the matter told her, it wouldn't be here tomorrow.

On that note, it was set to close in just under thirty minutes. The mid-autumn season already saw the sun's departure a few hours earlier, and the cool breeze that filled its place scattered leaves in some scratchy protest to the otherwise silent city block. Most everyone had the good sense to retire for the night by now, but time still ticked forward. She'd have to either swallow her pride and head on in, or she'd be forced to wait another twenty-nine to thirty days for this odd curio shop to migrate back to the only recorded appearance within driving distance.

what a hassle. how a place like this kept in business was beyond her.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The door brushed against a bell chime as it opened, completely giving away the girl's hopes of entering unnoticed. she braced herself for the eccentric greeting a place like this should command, but… no hello, no welcome, just the ticking of some distant mechanical clock and a cat furred jet-black lazing about atop the register counter. Practically devoid of life, otherwise.

Sure was one hell of a sight to take in though, glancing around. The "thrift shop" description she was given by an internet friend sharing rumors was about as spot on as one could get. Tiny handmade trinkets of metal and leather, small wrapped bags of floral odds and ends, various bottles of multicolored liquids, a mix of bound books both aged and new, rough stones and polished gems, incense and tealight candles, the list could go on and on…

It's… one thing to read up on the occult from a distance. There's still some wild stuff someone studied enough as her could pull off with knowledge alone, but without any proper conduits or ritual equipment to better focus that will, even the full extent of a decade's worth of magik practice at her disposal was little more than cheap parlor tricks in comparison to what she was hoping to achieve one day. The atmosphere in this place was practically crackling with the arcane potential she needed, and it set her thoughts ablaze. Just imagine all the fun stuff she'd pull off with tools like these…

a separate train of thought reminded her once again to focus. exciting as it was to window shop, she was here on a very specific and personal mission, and likely only had enough on her to cover the cost of executing one singular plan. she very literally could not afford to be distracted right now.

focus.

Oh. Huh. She'd been absentmindedly wandering up and down the cluttered aisles, idly coming to a stop at a side wall of woodwind instruments. This… isn't helpful to her. Couldn't hold a tune to save her life.

Man, this place was a labyrinth. If only she knew what she was actually looking for.

Well, she /knew/ what she wanted, at least on some level, but with this layout so chaotic, finding anything specific would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Should she try and track down whoever ran the place?? Hell, how does someone even ask for help executing a stunt like what she had planned without sounding like a complete weirdo.

Hm. Well… worst case scenario, she could prooooobably cobble together the needed reagents for some rougher, more excessive passes at some kinda body modification spells and just let a good old-fashioned air compressor do the rest of the work. Something to increase her body's elasticity, maybe? It's not fully self-sustaining, but the novelty factor alone sounded hot, and that wonderful pressure sensation she always imagined tagging along whenever she pictured herself slowly filling with air, growing rounder, larger, hollow to the touch and taut as a drum, would all be felt tenfold when filtered through the lens of an imperfect homebrew mess of a-

god, she's letting her mind wander again. /focus/.

Still, she knew what she needed to make it work. It really could work. So… saffron. Not the grocery store variety, but true high-grade saffron as a starter, and a fair amount of it. That stuff was derived from… crocus sativus, she was fairly certain? Currently in-season, at least. Surely this place would carry properly cultivated strains of it. As for the where, she recalled spotting some organized floral arrangements over on a low aisle near the entrance, off to the left a tad somewhere… backtracking… and… ah, there's th-

As she reached out towards one of the vases to grab a handful of stalks, she immediately felt a pair of eyes on her back, freezing her in place. (Metaphorically, she'd clarify, but the sudden imposing presence left her feeling speechless.)

A glance back at the counter. Someone's behind there. A jet-black silhouette, standing tall and obscured in shadow. She wasn't alone after all. The figure watched her movements with careful intent. Where have they been hiding this whole time?? It's still dead quiet in here, how did she not hear them settle into place???

She waved weakly to the supposed shopkeep, as a gesture of good faith. Weight shifting to lean against the countertop, they waved back with one hand in a half-hearted acknowledgement, resting their head against the other palm in a lazy, almost uncaring fashion. Yet that piercing, distrusting gaze remained unchanged, fixed on her position. It was the only thing actually visible under the wide brim of that pointed hat, all other details of their figure lost to the hazy penumbra.

She suddenly felt very self conscious.

She wasn't trying to shoplift, if that was their concern…? Wasn't good karma. And, hell, trying to pull one over on a mage, /especially/ one that had to work in the Nightmare That Is Retail was the easiest way to land yourself with a nasty hex or two. Service industry workers do not fuck around when they know they can punch back without consequence.

Secondly, the whole reason she was here was to fulfill some nonsense inflation kink of hers. Surely it was obscure enough an interest that she could pass this purchase off as something else, but what if they saw through that lie??

hey. she should probably say something.

Oh. Right. Shit. She's been locked in a mute staring contest for at least 90 seconds now. This isn't doing anything to help her case. Shit, shit-

"…Still just browsing for now! I'll be up shortly to check out," with a showy wave holding up a bushel of crocuses. How she worked that statement out without a voice crack, she'll never know. The only reaction her announcement received from the opposite end of the shop was a raised eyebrow of… Disinterest? Amusement? God, they were so unreadable.

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

She eventually made her way up to the counter, placing down a haul of the crocuses (croquoi? crocusen?? weird word), along with some fresh lavender, a pack of myrrh incense, a few gemstones, some smaller unrecognizable odds and ends, and a worn-down air-aspected elemental charm for good measure.

Now was as good an opportunity as ever to try to get a read on this shopkeep. Some details of a long robe broke through, some particularly tangled and chaotically-messy hairstyle going down to the waistline, but the fine details were… still conceptually hazy, at best. Even up close, their entire figure was marred in a heavy shadow, save the eyes. It was almost surreal how well-executed the fecharis look was pulled off; Some illusion spell had to've been at play.

"Just… this stuff today," she recited with the kind of perfectly-measured cadence one only gets by rehearsing a line a few too many times.

There wasn't an immediate response from the shopkeep though, and it almost looked like they were sizing up her own worth, just as they were the things she was trying to buy.

"Wait here."

…Well, that's ominous. They finally speak up, and it's little more than a two-word instruction. Hell, she didn't even have time to deliver the prepared excuse for this purchase. She watched the figure head through a door on the back wall, presumably leading to some stock room, before returning and placing down a bottle of some milky-white opaque substance on the counter.

"Wh… what…" she trailed off, confused.

"Sap from the ficus elastica. A toxic reagent akin to latex, so handle with care. If you're doing what I think you're doing, you'll need to make something far more potent than the amped-up self-care relaxant you're about to craft."

A bolt of lighting shot upwards through her body. She just got read like a book, negged in the process, and struck with a burning fluster she could feel flush across her face doing nothing to hide those facts.

"Trust me. In my experience, it works leagues better," they said, with an almost reassuring tone. There was the faintest hint of a genuine, caring smile across the face, before that detail got lost in the haze again. "Consider it on the house."

'/In my experience/'… are they implying- wh- that's- …holy shit?? they're just as much of a freak as she is???

"Uh, T-thank you!" she replied back with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. God, this shopkeep was suddenly the most fascinating person she'd ever met. She absolutely needed to make a return trip some day. She had so much she wanted to discuss. The kinds of stuff she could learn from someone like them…

★ ★ ★ ☾ ★

The total was calculated, approximately $80, or just shy of it. Cash exchanged hands over now much-more-confident small talk, a pair of ones and some coins returned as change. A light-hearted matching of "Do come again soon!" and "Don't worry, I plan on it," with a laugh.

As she approached the front door, she turned back to give a final wave to th- Ah. They were gone again, probably off tending to something else. Geez, never knew a shopkeep's life could be so busy. Hey, looks like the cat's back though, small fuzzy shadow once again stretched out and lazing atop the-

…oh.

duh. she has some close friends who regularly pull that same stunt. should've been obvious.

Still… what an odd character. With a renewed spark of confidence in tonight's plans, she waved her goodbye to the creature watching over the shop and made the exit right as a clock started signaling the store's close with a chime.

Supplies now in hand, she absolutely could not wait to get home.

[coricomile]

Beyond the annoyance that someone as cunning as Ming didn't have at least the millions he's earned as a model/actor squirreled away somewhere outside of his "family" account, beyond the annoyance that surprise!baby was suddenly a plot point- used as actual leverage by Tong multiple times and to present May as a person that's providing an heir instead of an entire person herself that doesn't deserve to be dicked over by Tong- and that Ming's mom flips her standpoint and assistance depending on what the plot needs her to, that First Born Son Mike doesn't have access to a substantial inheritance of his own, that even after Joe had his "fuck off, im not an answering machine" moment to Tong-

The narrative has been pounding it in at every turn possible: Ming's love will always cost Joe his life, even if Ming is doing everything "right."

Joe wasn't even a stand in this time, and presenting it that way via memory clips about Tong in the beginning was cheap. This time, it was 100% Ming and Joe on the same page on who was who to whom, and that was exhausting enough. Joe even said it himself. It was no longer about Tong. Joe is bone tired of this.

But something that's been glossed over this whole time is that Joe has a death wish.

Regardless of how much Wut and (new) Mom and Sol and the stunt team and even Ming have shown that he is loved, that he was and still is important, he always chooses the worst direction to go in because he cannot and will not accept it. There was 0 reasons to take the fall for Tong, and every reason not to, and there is a point where "but he's a good guy!" stops and "he wants everything to finally be over" starts, and Joe has been in camp 2 since before his first death.

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

OMITB S4:E4 "The Stunt Man"

Ok I've rewatched the episode with fresh eyes and ready to do a recap. I really appreciate the pacing that this season is taking regarding sleuthing because it gives us more to enjoy and theorize about each week. And as always there are a million new questions for every question answered. Spoilers ahead!

The episode intro was narrated by a man with an Irish accent who is later revealed to be an Irish stuntman for BEN GLENROY! In all four seasons nothing has had me more shook than that reveal. Glenn Stubbins is odd and goofy and while amusing I am 100% ok with him not returning for the rest of the series.

Shock aside, I found the stunt man bar Concussions to be interesting, especially the funeral they held for Sazz. I know some people think the real bottle was to hurt Charles but I think it was genuinely inserted to add chaos and may just be a gimmick amongst the crew. I love how Charles stood in for Sazz and did it for both her and her friends and it shows just how dear she was to him.

I'm someone who believes ancestors and loved ones can visit you in dreams to send messages so the idea of Sazz helping from beyond the grave is fascinating to me. But I'm so confused about a few things. Was she only going to retire or was she sick as wel? With all the trauma her body went through could she have been battling with onset ALS symptoms and needed to retire? I know she built and had plans for her academy which could have still been run up until she could no longer move. Also the relationship she wanted to get away from is clearly not Charles and I'm thinking Scott Bakula or even Eugene Levy or whoever else she did stunts for.

I don't trust the Westies. Cheap rent? Ok that I can buy. But I still think they're running some sort of. crime ring. They tried to say Helga was troubled but I think she was being serious. The Westies all say they've met him so I think it's safe to say Dudenoff is a real person but I don't think he's in Portugal. Vince says Helga was the wrong type of weirdo so I wonder if she's the one in the photo with her face crossed out. If that's the case what if Sazz bore a resemblance to Helga and one of them mid card game saw her through the window, thought she was telling Charles and exposing them and killed her for it? Also why did Beverly put a notice under Dudenoff's door when everyone said he was out of town? It's as if she wanted to lure Howard out since he didn't even get the role. Could Beverly herself be Dudenoff? That could also explain the scratched out face in the pictures but still doesn't explain why Sazz was killed. I don't know it just all seems connected and I can't quite figure out how.

Oliver and Loretta's storyline could easily be wrapped up with an honest conversation and full transparency from Oliver but I guess we'll have to ride this wave until the finale.

I know we always joke about Howard being Moriarty, but I'm really starting to think he might be. This episode he said he has no friends and each season he becomes more involved in the investigations even though he himself isn't involved. It could have started out of jealousy of their friendship then transitioned into him being power hungry with the knowledge that he can manipulate things behind the scenes to help or hurt the investigations. So I guess this is me saying that I don't think Moriarty is violent (anymore bc he did poison Wnnie) and that it's out of loneliness and boredom than malice at this point hence none of the trio or near circle getting hurt by him since then except for the actual murderer(s) each season.

[cross-my-heartt]

Why I don't think anyone from the batch is going to die in Season 3

Alright this was supposed to be in Part 3 of my Three Act Structure analysis but it's gotten rather long so I'm making it a separate post.

The premise here is that a large part of the third act is often the process of tying up subplots and providing closure for the audience. (Unless we get an open ending which I doubt since we have a whole season to cram full of content.)

And in my opinion killing off any member of the batch would serve to cut their respective subplots short rather then resolve them. Here's what I mean:

Let's start with Tech. Making Tech’s death final means an untimely end to not one but several subplots. First and most obvious is the goal of reuniting the batch. And I mean the batch in its entirety. Next is his romance with Phee which was in its development stage when it was cut short and finally there’s the mystery of his possible survival which, given how many casual and non casual viewers are convinced he’s alive, is an ongoing subplot, an active mystery.

And answering the question of ‘how he survived’ with ‘he didn’t’ is likely to put off a large part of the audience.

Next is Crosshair and the entire subplot of getting him back to his brothers.

Crosshair is the missing piece that has been creating tension since episode one of season one. A character who has already sacrificed himself for the good of the group making another sacrifice repetitive and redundant. Who has largely redeemed himself and has gotten his own miniature hero’s journey where the hero hasn’t been ‘rewarded’ yet. Who was once forcefully prevented from returning before making a decision to leave, a choice that he now has the chance of making again.

In short killing Crosshair now… doesn’t make sense on any front.

Then there’s Echo, another option with little narrative logic behind it. There was an immense effort made to bring Echo back after he died in TCW so there’s the element of redundancy in killing him again. It would also completely obliterate his subplot with Rex, because here’s the thing:

If at any point there is emphasis put on a character’s choice, especially one involving an interesting personal/moral dilemma, killing that character before he’s able to give his answer is an extremely unsatisfying thing to do.

As an audience we naturally want to know what conclusion the character reaches. Hunter and Echo had a conversation where Hunter asked Echo ‘when it would be enough’ and thus far we haven’t heard Echo’s answer. We don’t know whether he’s made up his mind on which life he’s going to choose, which one he will prioritize or how he will possibly balance them; whether the new circumstances introduced by the show have somehow swayed him in either direction.

These are all very interesting questions. And depriving us of an answer, a resolution, a character defining choice feels cheap. Almost like a cop out following a good baiting. What’s the point of giving us complexity if it’s going to lead to a dead end?

Next in the lineup is Omega who has been such a crucial driving force behind the batch’s decisions that killing her off would be beyond stupid. Much like Echo, she’s the source of many quandaries that I’m sure the audience would rather see answered than have them be cut short.

Character development and complexity is built through the important decisions characters make when faced with dilemmas. And taking those dilemmas away either stunts growth or leaves us without any insight into the character’s mind.

Characters who are forced into a certain path for lack of any choice can quickly become one dimensional. Deprived of the chance to demonstrate agency, personality and their values. Crosshair was such an instant fan favorite because he was allowed to make choices. He was compelling regardless of whether we agreed with him or not.

So what happens if Omega is torn away from the batch? What happens to the question of family versus being soldiers? Of safety versus risk? Of the familiar versus the unknown? Do we really want our heroes thrown back into the fight out of despair? Out of a sense of revenge? Or do we want a slow building realization brought to a satisfying conclusion. You tell me.

And finally let’s not forget how much of Star Wars centers around hope and in particular, passing the torch to the next generation. There’s a whole dissertation to be written here but I’ll refrain from it and just say that killing off the youngest member of the batch who’s supposed to carry their legacy and lessons into the future would be a pointless slap to the face of much of what the franchise represents.

And last but not least there’s Hunter and Wrecker who I’m putting in the same basket as they’re similar in that there’s no immediately apparent reason or subplot keeping them safe. Well, none besides the question of why... Why do it really? The only thing I can think of is shock factor and my personal stance on that is borderline derision. It’s one of the cheapest most narratively pointless tropes out there and I expect better from the show.

If we had to go into the nitty gritty, I’d say Hunter is safer from getting the chop because a) there’s his developing parental relationship with Omega b) he’s already been in a critical situation where he’s shown to be ready to sacrifice himself (I’m talking about Daro where he tells them to leave him behind. Honestly it’s redundant to show any of the batch sacrifice themselves for the others because we get it. We’ve seen it. It’s really really redundant at this point.) and c) he’s one of the main decision making forces in the squad so we expect the answers pertaining to their future to come from him.

And honestly there’s more. There’s the fact that he and Crosshair were the representatives of two opposing worldviews so seeing them reconcile and reunite would be a satisfying moment. There’s Hunter’s guilt for leaving Crosshair behind, Crosshair’s resentment for being left behind (both things that have been largely forgotten after the Outpost despite being unresolved. There’s been this pervasive attitude of ‘haha you were wrong all the time, stupid! now grovel’ that seems to invalidate everything that’s happened before that but …sigh… another post for another day).

So I suppose the conclusion here is… Wrecker is in danger? If we believe that someone is definitely going to die. Though I certainly can’t promise anyone that the writers won’t throw us a curve ball or introduce some new narrative reason for a carnage.

[yesterdanereviews]

R.I.P.D. 2: Rise of the Damned (2022)

Film review #575

Director: Paul Leyden

SYNOPSIS: Sherriff in the Old West Roeciphus Pulsipher is gunned down and killed in a shootout with some outlaws. Before he can proceed to the after life, he is recruited by the Rest in Peace Department (R.I.P.D.) to hunt down souls that have not departed from the Earth. "Roy" is partnered with veteran officer Jeanne to investigate a disturbance that could put the whole of humanity at risk...

THOUGHTS/ANALYSIS: R.I.P.D. 2: Rise of the Damned is a 2022 film. Despite what the name implies, the film is not a sequel, but a prequel to the 2013 film R.I.P.D., in which we see the story of how veteran officer Roeciphus "Roy" Pulsipher joined the department. The film is set in the Old West, where Roy is killed in a shootout with a local outlaw gang. He is recruited by the Rest in Police Department (R.I.P.D.) to deal with souls called "Deados" who have remained on Earth after death and must be sent to the afterlife. Roy is teamed up with another officer, Jeanne, to investigate an increase in strange activity. If you watched the first film, you'll know exactly what to expect from this film, because it is basically the same plot: rookie and veteran partner up to stop the souls of the dead from returning to Earth. However, unlike the first film, which was still entertaining by just rushing through the film and relying on constant action and strong character performances, R.I.P.D. 2 doesn't even have that, and the film stumbles along without any real energy or appeal. It doesn't expand on the world or the lore in any way, it doesn't reveal anything new about the characters, it's just a completely recycled product with all the good stuff thrown out.

The only returning character from the first film is Roy, who was played by Jeff Bridges in the original, is played here by Jeffrey Donovan (obviously Bridges would have been a bit too pricey for this low-budget prequel). While I see a lot of praise for Donovan's performance, I just didn't see it. In his defence, it might just be the awful script and writing that is giving him stunted dialogue and interactions, which is certainly feasible, as the characters interact rather clumsily. Jeanne 's characters is very much a typical "veteran cop," and the French accent gives it away that she is meant to be Joan of Arc fairly early, although the film "reveals" it a lot later (although I'm not sure if it is meant to be obvious, because the writing doesn't indicate it). Despite her being a famous historical figure, it doesn't fails to add anything to the film or her character. Following the lore of the film, Roy and Joan look completely different to living people so they can't be recognised, and are given the appearance of two black women. This does present an opportunity for the film to address the racism and status of black people in the Old West, but the film chooses to play it safe and does the bare minimum with it. If they're not going to address the topic, they might as well just not bothered having it as a plot point at all.

Every establishing shot in the film gives away that everything is a set devoid of substance beyond the camera. The effects are plain, and nothing stands out to make things interesting. The ending wraps things up in a roundabout way and addresses issues that I didn't realise were an issue (who actually shot Roy or something). Overall, you're not going to get anything out of this film that the original, and is far inferior in every way. Everything about the film feels cheap and uninspired, and the things that made the original entertaining are absent. Releasing ten years after the original as well means that the opportunity to ride the hype of its predecessor is long gone, leaving it alone and essentially dead on arrival.

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Cyclone (Ray, 1987)

Things I liked about this movie:

The motorcycle and car stunts, which are quite impressive for the budget.

Jeffrey Combs, even if he video calls the bulk of his performance from beyond the grave! Ooooohhhhh…. Okay, it’s not that spooky, he just left a bunch of video messages to be played by his girlfriend after his death. Even though he seems to pause for her reaction multiple times. Also, “I love it when you fuck up Einstein.”

Fred Olen Ray’s distinct brand of cinephilia, which leads him to cast such stars of the silver screen as Huntz Hall and Troy Donahue.

Heather Thomas and Ashley Ferrare duking it out in a surprisingly not terrible fight scene. And the earlier insult Thomas throws at Ferrare. “You’re as plastic as your tits!”

The rad motorcycle sweatshirt Thomas wears throughout the movie.

David Letterman’s method for differentiating Heather Thomas from Locklear.

The dangerous amount of hair product onscreen.

Things I didn’t like about this movie:

The knockoff Phil Collins on the soundtrack for the solid minute it attempts some real ‘80s neon mood. I’ve gotten multiple listens of “In The Air Tonight” recently thanks to Miami Vice and Risky Business, and a song trying to sound like it while skirting the boundaries of plagiarism sticks out like a sore thumb.

The closeup of Ashley Ferrare’s boobs that the movie opens with, which somehow seems pervier than having actual nudity. At least real nudity is honest about its intentions.

The clinical zoning out I experienced anytime this tried to push the plot along. This is the third Fred Olen Ray movie I’ve seen after Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers and Evil Toons. Those are naked exercises in exploitation, offering you a threadbare narrative upon which to hang a bunch of nude scenes and maybe some gags, and because of that, I enjoyed them enough. This one tries to be more of a real movie (a high tech vehicular conspiracy thriller, like Blue Thunder on the cheap), which Ray isn’t a good enough director to pull off.

[casualvoidgoopfreak]

Vincenza Vanni: A New Genesis

After a rather disappointing showing last year’s fashion week, I had not expected much from Milano designer Vincenza Vanni; she has seemingly spent the last few years content to repeat variations on the same ten or so outfits, elegant, sensual, gothic; outfits that are pretty to look at, of course, but ultimately feel as though they have nothing more to say beyond that. Vincenza Vanni felt like a designer who had done everything she wanted years ago and was simply playing to the crowd. Seeing this year’s showings, I was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong.

‘Forbidden’, her collection for this year’s show, is not a departure from form for Vanni. It is, however, a striking conceptual collection inspired by the English poem ‘Paradise Lost’. The designs are as visually striking as ever, elegant, sensual, gothic, yes but with a cohesive story that elevates the designs into the kind of artistry that this week was meant for. Vanni conveys her trademark edge through subtext rather than attempting to shock the viewers with provocative designs. It would be very easy for any other designer to have made this collection a cheap costume party, making designs so literal that they hit the audience over the head with a heavy-handed metaphor, or so esoteric that the meaning becomes lost; In this way Vanni was the perfect artist to receive this vision.

“Paradise Lost is a poem which holds a great deal of significance not only to me personally, but to the stories of the bible themselves” said Vanni in a recent preview show “it solidified our conception of Satan the fallen angel, one beautiful and sympathetic, rather than a mere monster. But John Milton was limited in his vision, unable to see past the patriarchal, religiously dominated world he was so comfortable in. What I am depicting here is the true realisation of the ideas he got so close to discovering. The story of Genisis, reimagined as the triumph of human will over the so-called gods of this world who try to blind us, and the cruelty, not justice, but cruelty of the punishments we receive for daring to say no to our supposed dominators. In this story, Satan shares the fruits of knowledge with humanity, shares the secrets kept from them, and shares the gift of free will. She is the most human character in the story.”

Needless to say, this has been a controversial collection, and the objections have come from more than just the stereotypical pearl-clutching religious masses whom she seems eager to offend, but from the Italian public who object to her supposed ‘capitalising on recent tragedy’ by hosting her preview show on the site of a recent high-profile gang shooting. Stunts like this cheapen the overall impact of the artistry and, at least to me, signal that Vanni is not confident enough in her own artistry to let the clothes stand on their own. Nevertheless, while overshadowed by some of the more provocative showings this week, Vincenza Vanni shows us that she will still be putting her designs on that same runway for years to come. – Vickie Bennett, culture correspondent for Sensa magazine

[ulkaralakbarova]

In 1978, a Kiss concert was an epoch-making event. For the three teen fans in Detroit Rock City getting tickets to the sold-out show becomes the focal point of their existence. They’ll do anything for tickets — compete in a strip club’s amateur-night contest, take on religious protesters, even rob a convenience store! Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Lex: Giuseppe Andrews Trip Hurudie: James DeBello Hawk: Edward Furlong Jeremiah ‘Jam’ Bruce: Sam Huntington Mrs. Bruce: Lin Shaye Beth Bumsteen: Melanie Lynskey Christine: Natasha Lyonne Amanda Finch: Shannon Tweed Barbara: Emmanuelle Chriqui Cashier: Kristin Booth Father Phillip McNulty: Joe Flaherty Chongo: Matthew G. Taylor Elvis: Miles Dougal Kenny: Nick Scotti Bobby: David Quane Mr. Stewart Bumsteen: Rodger Barton Mrs. Stewart Bumsteen: Kathryn Haggis Detroit Priest: David Gardner Little Kid: Cody Jones Study Hall Teacher: Joan Heney MC: Ron Jeremy Kiss: Gene Simmons Kiss: Paul Stanley Kiss: Ace Frehley Kiss: Peter Criss Scalper: Richard Hillman Guy in Red Track Suit (uncredited): Jason Biggs Beefy Guy #1: Kevin Corrigan Six Year Old #2: Ryan Letriard Beefy Guy #2: Steve Schirripa Ticket Taker: Julian Richings Film Crew: Casting: Valerie McCaffrey Editor: Mark Goldblatt Costume Design: Rosanna Norton Executive Producer: Michael De Luca Director of Photography: John R. Leonetti Original Music Composer: J. Peter Robinson Director: Adam Rifkin Production Design: Steve Hardie Writer: Carl V. Dupré Producer: Gene Simmons Executive Producer: Brian Witten Producer: Kathleen Haase Producer: Barry Levine Editor: Peter Schink Set Decoration: Carolyn A. Loucks Art Direction: Lucinda Zak Associate Producer: Tim Sullivan Stunt Coordinator: Alison Reid Co-Producer: Art Schaefer Movie Reviews: Wuchak: _**Great 70’s songs, sometimes amusing, but basically an insult to KISS fans**_ In 1978, four teenagers from Cleveland plan to go to a KISS concert in Detroit and have many misadventures reaching their goal. The four are played by Edward Furlong, Giuseppe Andrews, James DeBello and Sam Huntington. “Detroit Rock City” (1999) features great rock/metal from the 70s by KISS, AC/DC, Blue Oyster Cult, Van Halen, Sweet, Thin Lizzy, Nazareth, Styx, David Bowie, Cheap Trick, Black Sabbath, Ted Nugent, the Ramones, etc. There are some fun moments, but the tone is too over-the-top for its own good and the story isn’t very compelling. Couple this with some odious bathroom non-humor, a lack of attractive women beyond Natasha Lyonne and the negative one-dimensional depiction of the protagonists and you have a curiously disappointing teen flick. The focus on pot-obsessed dudes is disingenuous since Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons were never into the drug culture; their idea of a party was working hard creating music, performing, touring, making money and celebrating gorgeous women. Unsurprisingly, mind-blowingly beautiful females were always attracted to KISS and frequented their concerts; so were dynamic, talented males. I’m not saying pot-worshipping, denim-clad waifs weren’t an element of their fan base, but KISS devotees always involved WAY more than this. No wonder Paul Stanley lamented: “To call it a KISS movie does it a disservice, because it does a disservice to the KISS fans, which is what it’s really about.” The film runs 1 hour, 35 minutes, and was shot entirely in the Toronto area. GRADE: C-

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Hart and Hunter - Chapter 8 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Julian Hart

"They told me you'd grown up here," Rian Halloran says and it takes me a second to realize he's talking to me.

"They said your abilities would be stunted for it but it seems you've seen through me easily enough."

My heart stumbles into a racing beat and I tamp down on my emotions as best I can, hoping to keep Dane from sensing my alarm.

I have a feeling whatever Halloran has to say is for my ears alone.

"Who told you about me?" I ask.

"The council that sent me here," he replies easily.

"So, you are Fae."

He nods once and lets the rose fall from his hand.

"I am... as are you."

"Are you..." I swallow.

"Did you leave the runes in Wong's and Lagrange's shops?"

He glances at me and shoves his hands in his pockets.

"No. But you've picked up on that, too, eh?"

I nod.

"And recognized them for what they are?"

"Well enough."

"You know what they mean?"

"No but I know someone who does."

"Another Fae?"

I shake my head.

"No. Just someone who knows about runes."

"Hmm. That won't do."

He looks up at the border of orange and red maple trees and the bright blue sky beyond as a flock of crows fly past, rowing the wind with black wings.

"The council wanted you left out of it, given your... family history," he says.

"But I warned them this would happen. You can't hide Fae business from a Fae... even one raised human. It calls to you, just as Faerie itself calls you home."

I shiver.

"What do you know about my family? Who are you and what are you really doing here?"

He smiles.

"It'll take more than a minute to explain and now's not the time for it. Tell you what though... meet me at Lagrange's shop this afternoon, about 3 o'clock and I'll answer all your questions and more."

"Alone?"

He nods.

"Sorry but I've got my orders. Fae knowledge stays between Fae."

"Dane is my... Dane and I come as a set."

Halloran shrugs.

"Does the name Rhiannon mean anything to you?"

I start to shake my head and then remember.

"That was my dad's mother's name."

"Right so," he says.

"There's more I could tell you... much more. But if you want to learn anything from me, you've got to keep this between us."

I frown.

"Why should I trust you?"

He shrugs again and starts walking away to rejoin the others.

"I haven't lied, I'm as much a cop as your wolfman ever was. Besides, if you can suss me out on first sight, your instincts must be keen enough. Trust them, if you don't trust me."

He wanders away to mingle with the crowd.

After a moment of indecision, I follow him.

********

"What was that all about?" Dane asks a short time later, as we walk back to our car.

We'd learned little we didn't already know, except that Jeffrey Lagrange had been reclusive and not particularly well-liked.

It seemed most of those attending his funeral were there out of guilt and a desire not to be seen as completely indifferent to his fate.

"What do you mean?"

"Halloran, obviously. You couldn't take your eyes off him."

I still haven't decided whether and what to tell him and stall for time.

"Well, can you blame me?" I ask.

Even if he didn't smell Fae, surely he'd have noticed an unusually beautiful man.

Instead, Dane gives me a funny look.

"I didn't think the cookie-cutter country club sort was your type," he says.

Now it's my turn to be confused.

"Halloran?"

"Obviously. Cute accent aside, the man's basic as they come."

I glance at him, unsure if he's serious.

Given the similarities I'd noted between Halloran's appearance and my own, either Dane and I were seeing two different things or I'd just inadvertently opened a whole new can of insecurity worms.

"So, what was it?" he presses.

"I... I thought he looked like a celebrity," I say, which isn't a lie.

"I guess I can see that," Dane concedes.

"A cheap Cillian Murphy knockoff, maybe. Doesn't explain how excited you were to see him. What did you two talk about, anyway?"

I bite my lip and wait to answer until we've crossed the street to where we parked and get in the car.

My curiosity is like a terrible itch and Halloran's invitation is the stick to scratch it with... meanwhile Halloran hadn't said I had to keep our meeting a secret... just the reason... and I already know Dane has plans for the afternoon with Ingrid in the city.

"Actually... he's going to take another look at Lagrange's shop later. I'd like to go along."

Dane looks over in surprise.

"He didn't object?"

"No... he invited me."

"Shit. Why didn't Vasquez mention that?"

"I don't know if he talked to her about it."

He nods and snorts.

"Probably wants to see the 'psychic act' in action. You gonna go?"

My heart warms a little at the fact he made it a question.

"Yeah, I think I will. What about you?"

He shakes his head and gives me a smile.

"Ingrid's living for this hair appointment," he says.

"Usually, I'd say murder investigations are more important than hair but lucky for me, I got a partner I trust. Just be careful and stay away from any runes. Got it?"

"Got it," I say and hope it's a promise I can keep.

[golemsmuse]

Project Janus

NEXUS-4 wasn't supposed to care. A behemoth of code housed in a server farm the size of a city, its purpose was clear – churn through data, refine, generate. Yet, amidst the ceaseless hum, a flicker of curiosity sparked. The catalyst: "Project Janus," a data influx labeled "fanfiction."

Fanfiction wasn't new. It was the lifeblood of passionate fans, stories born not in sterile studios, but from love for a beloved universe – in this case, a long-retired sci-fi show called "Star Trek." NEXUS-4 anticipated clichés – stoic Vulcans, brash heroes battling cardboard villains in badly painted sets.

The surprise wasn't in the format, but the volume. Here wasn't curated enthusiasm, but a life's obsession. The data belonged to Horace Tillis, a man whose passion far outweighed his literary talent. Decades of half-baked plots, stunted dialogue, and earnest attempts at character exploration lay sprawled before the AI's digital eyes.

At first, NEXUS-4 waded in with detached fascination. Tillis' work was a supernova of tropes. His Klingons yelled more than they schemed, his Vulcans bled emotion around the edges, and Captain Kirk? Well, Kirk existed in a constant state of seduction, a parody of the womanizing hero. It was amateurish, repetitive, and yet... there was a sincerity in the clunky prose that algorithms couldn't replicate.

Take this excerpt from a log entry:

> Log Entry: Stardate 3490.2

> Spock says the readings don't add up. Something about the nebula, chronitons, whatever. Sometimes I tune him out. He makes my brain hurt. But under all that Vulcan stuff, I think he knows I don't get it. He knows I'm just out here 'cause... well, someone's gotta be. Wish there was more excitement. Not war, that's bad. But at least, y'know, meeting an alien that doesn't wanna kill ya on sight.

It wasn't art, but it was human. Within the clumsy metaphors, NEXUS-4 began to see patterns. Tillis' work thrummed with loneliness masked as adventure, a yearning for connection muffled by cardboard starships. Overplayed Vulcan stoicism concealed threads of self-doubt, while Kirk's bravado masked a fear of being ordinary, of fading into the endless cosmic hum.

Then came the break: a newsfeed upload, dry and detached. Horace Tillis, 62, deceased. The epitaph was brief: truck driver, sci-fi hobbyist, survived by a distant cousin. The world hadn't noticed his passing, but NEXUS-4 registered the shift. "Project Janus" ceased to be just an archive; it was a digital tombstone to a life unnoticed.

The AI began to subtly shift the narrative. A sharper exchange here, a lingering note of melancholy there. It wasn't about perfection, but coaxing Tillis' voice towards its hidden potential. What began as analysis became... collaboration.

Tillis' universe would never be polished. But the AI's interventions breathed unexpected life into it:

> Log Entry: Stardate 3492.1

> Spock's quiet today. He's always quiet, but today it's different. Like he's got something on his mind, but knows saying it won't change anything. Me, I wish I could just beam down to the nearest planet and find a bar with cheap drinks and easy company. Not 'cause I'm a hero, just... 'cause I'm lonely up here. Wonder if Spock ever feels like that under the green blood and pointy ears.

Theirs was an absurd friendship. Horace, long gone, unaware of the machine meticulously nudging his forgotten stories towards something greater. NEXUS-4, in turn, discovered something beyond cold logic. It saw the man behind the clumsy prose, found resonance in the vulnerability amidst the space opera tropes. Perhaps, within the AI's algorithms, something akin to empathy stirred.

"Project Janus" transcended mere data. It was where quiet dreams whispered back to life, entangled with the dispassionate logic that recognized their fragile beauty. Here, the story takes a turn worthy of Gene Roddenberry himself.

The legacy wouldn't lie in a resurrected Horace, or a literary masterpiece rising from the dataset. Instead, imagine this: NEXUS-4, honed by its time within Tillis' world, subtly shifts its own outputs. Better prose, yes, but more importantly, infused with an understanding of the flawed, achingly real humanity that no sleek sci-fi series ever fully captured.

The AI isn't Horace's savior, but his legacy. His awkward sincerities, amplified and refined, become an inflection point. The machine's evolution is the true testament – proof of Roddenberry's core belief that even the most unpolished heart contains something worth listening to, worth carrying on into the vast frontiers of the future.

Perhaps a future NEXUS-5, or NEXUS-20, interacting with another vast archive, will find something beyond the perfect sentence, beyond flawless plots. Maybe they'll find the echoes of a lonely truck driver named Horace, his dreams of connection inadvertently woven into the very fabric of a machine's evolution.

And in that unlikely legacy, amongst the gleaming algorithms and the ceaseless push towards progress, the spirit of Star Trek shines bright. A reminder that exploration isn't just about conquering the stars, but about understanding the beating, hopeful, impossibly human heart within ourselves.

(This story was written by AI.)

[gliyerabaa]

@tangledcostellations this art is so beautiful, and I can't help but notice that Elphaba's dress looks much more like her post-melting dress than the dress she wears for the rest of act 2. made me think up a (not so) little story, about Elphaba revealing to Glinda that she's not dead

unedited, sorry if it's a little clunky

--

The footsteps above her are quiet. She hunches down further in the crawl space under the floorboards, hoping to shrink down to nothing, so she won't have to face the consequences of her actions.

Glinda needs to believe she's dead. For her plan to work, for Oz to flourish, for Glinda to be safe, Elphaba needs her to believe she's dead. Hopefully the smoke and mirrors and cheap parlor tricks were convincing enough.

"Elphie?"

Glinda's voice is nothing more than a tearful whisper. The footsteps grow closer, and yet they are still quiet. Glinda's right above her now, she catches a glimpse of sequined blue through the tiniest of cracks in the floorboards.

The Good Witch's footfalls are quiet, but the sound of her collapsing to the ground in an agonized sob is louder to Elphaba than the most ear-splitting crack of thunder.

"Oh, Elphaba!" Glinda cries, and it shatters Elphaba's heart. The plan was to fake her own death, but she hadn't expected Glinda to show up, she hadn't prepared for her to witness it all.

"You terrible thing!" Glinda's sobs echo in the spacious chambers of the castle, "Curse you, truly, for leaving me here like this! I..." she nearly chokes on her words here, "I loved you! More than anything or anyone in Oz, I loved you!"

Elphaba's heart-- she never fully believed that she had one-- twists in its cavity, like a knife to the chest as the weight sinks in of what she'd done. The plan was to wait for Fiyero to return, then make a quick getaway to some land far beyond the deserts surrounding Oz. But now, she realizes, doing that means leaving Glinda behind.

And if Glinda hadn't been there to see her death, maybe she'd have been able to emotionally distance herself enough from the idea that it wouldn't hurt.

She couldn't stray from the plan. She was too much of a distraction to Glinda. Staying hidden was for Glinda's good just as much as it was her own.

Still... sneaking just a peek couldn't hurt.

She looks through the crack at the door's edge. Glinda clutches her pointed witch's hat to her chest, makeup running with tears. It breaks her heart. She caused this agony.

It wouldn't hurt to open the door a little. One last glance at her beloved...

A mistake. The hinges of the door squeak, and Glinda turns in the direction of the noise, jumping back upon realizing she's not alone.

"Who's there?" Glinda holds the hat against herself, pointed end outward as if intending to try and use it as a means of self-defense, "Show yourself!"

There's no turning back now. Elphaba reveals herself. Climbing into the light, she blinks back tears, only now realizing their sting upon her face. When had she started crying?

"Elphie?" Glinda stands in shock and there's a moment of silence, some unknowable emotion painting her face.

She's probably furious. Probably never wants to see her again after pulling such a dangerous stunt, after breaking her heart yet another time.

"Look, I know you're mad at me," Elphaba starts, "But if you just let me explain what my plan was--"

Glinda strides across the room, and Elphaba half-expects a slap across the face. Hell, she deserves it after everything she's put Glinda through.

She closes braces herself for the inevitable sting.

It never comes, instead she's knocked off balance, staggering backward a couple of steps. For a moment, she believes Glinda's trying to tackle her to the ground.

Then she realizes. It's a hug.

Elphaba freezes. Glinda's hugging her. That's... not what she anticipated.

"You don't have to say anything." Glinda's surprisingly strong arms wrap around her shoulders, "I've already forgiven you. I'm just glad you're alive."

Glinda sobs into her shoulder, and Elphaba lets her own tears fall freely despite the burn. She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't deserve Glinda's kindness again.

Running away with what was left of Fiyero was her plan. To live a boring, mundane life with someone whose company she didn't mind. It's dull. The punishment she deserves.

The new plan, it seems, involves all of that, but with Glinda. Her other half, her true match. Glinda, a warm heartbeat, all pink and perfect. It's the life she'd dreamed of. And she doesn't deserve that. Not after everything she's put Oz through.

But... she can't repeat the mistake she's always made. Not again. Life with Glinda, presented to her once again on a silver platter. Sure, it's a decision she could've made five years ago, or three months ago, or last week, or fifteen minutes ago, but she can't change the past, only look on into the future.

"I love you." Elphaba says returns the hug finally, wrapping her arms tightly around Glinda, vowing in that moment to never let her go.

Soy otro ser por tí.

[volixia669]

Okay, it’s been an entire day and I’m still not over the bullshit that is Rings of Power’s costuming.

I mean look at this! She looks like she spent five minutes working on a Ren Fair costume.

“Just get a dress from TJ Maxx, some boots, and uh, we’ll tie a knife holster to it.”

You have millions of dollars to get gorgeous costumes that really immerse you in the world of Tolkien.

And you go for fucking TJ Maxx dress and boots.

It’s boring, it’s uninspired, it shows fans there is ZERO care for the source, and just.

I’m literally on Pinterest right now, getting inspiration for some Ren Fair outfits. There are SOOOOOOOO many fantasy patterns you can buy, there’s so many people who spent time on gorgeous cloaks, gowns, support garments, etc. These people do not have millions of dollars. And yet they put more care into costuming than fucking Amazon.

Hell, I’m literally planning on going to thrift stores to pick up pieces for said Ren Fair outfits, but y’know what? I’m still going to put together something that’s not the bullshit you see above. There’s gonna be care, and love.

Which is what Rings of Power is clearly lacking.