#he's literally the only person with ZERO actual real stakes in this game other than his loyalty to Kant; if he really wanted he could bail

[secriden]

You know what makes me soooo excited for the next phase of Fadel and Style's relationship? It's that they will finally slot into the CORRECT relationship dynamics because this whole time, it's been flipped.

From the beginning, something felt off, and I think it's because Style's true desire is to be pursued. We are shown this pretty much in Style's introduction when he blatantly puts his body on display with the Crop Top Stretch. Style wants to be approached, wants to be propositioned, wants to be desired. Also, remember how he initially flirts with Fadel when his only motivation was his own attraction? He pinned the Heart Burger badge onto his chest to create an opportunity for Fadel to put his hands on Style's body.

Of course Fadel wasn't pursuing Style; was in fact, actively trying to get away (for reasons OTHER than a lack of physical attraction to Style), so it is the plot that has to drive our lovebirds together using Kant's request and partly Style's own desire to get some revenge.

But throughout their interactions, we constantly see glimpses of Style's desire to be pursued: every single time Fadel even shows a HINT of wanting Style, he immediately falls pliant, like he can't wait to let Fadel take the reins. And nothing shows this more clearly than the absolutely blissed out look on Style's face in Ep 4 when he thinks Fadel has finally admitted that he wants Style.

(Fucking hell, just look at how dazed and almost euphoric Style looks here? It's like Style has been starving for the barest hint that Fadel truly wants him.)

Which is also why we've gotten so many fake outs. Because although Fadel IS attracted to Style (Ep 2 made that...abundantly clear), he isn’t remotely ready to pursue anyone. Not only is Fadel nursing a broken heart, barely beating, he also has very justified suspicions about Style’s connection to Kant and Style's unnatural persistence.

So it's Style that has to pursue - he dodges Fadel's footsteps, and bullies his way into Fadel's life; but in between the frustration and annoyance, Fadel's walls begin to crack. And I think it's SO COOL that the first significant evidence we have of Fadel's walls crumbling is because Style puts his body on display for Fadel. Because Fadel responded to something that was naturally part of the way Style operates before he even met Fadel. And there are other, more compelling reasons why I think Fadel begins to fall for Style, but that's not really the point I'm trying to make here.

When Fadel said "If I like you, I'll do the pursuing", it wasn't just to get Style to back off. Because now that Fadel has finally chosen to explore something real with Style, we are seeing Fadel's words in action. I know some people have said Fadel's switch to flirting so blatantly with Style in Ep 4's gym scene came out of left field, but I think it may well be confirmation that this was always the dynamic they were meant to be in. Fadel likes pursuing and Style likes being pursued. They fit, they match, they're perfectly compatible.

(Fadel looks almost faintly amused by how "flustered" Style is. Because he doesn't know that Style is actually afraid of him - why would he, when Style has evidenced zero fear so far? So this comes across like Style is getting shy in response to Fadel's unexpected and more overt approach. And possibly this is Fadel starting to remember how much he enjoys the chasing.)

Unfortunately, Kant's revelation is going to screw allll of this up. But, we are finally going to see glimpses of how they work when they're aligned correctly in their dynamics! And while it will take a journey (and oh, it will be gloriously painful, won't it?), our boys are finally on the road to something lasting and I am sooo glad we get to come along for the ride. <3

[themattress]

There are many reasons why, for me, Pokémon Colosseum for the Nintendo Gamecube is superior to its sequel Pokémon XD: Gale of Darkness. But one of the biggest reasons is this:

Right there, at the end of Colosseum, Evice says in no uncertain terms that he is the boss of Cipher and that he will rule the world. And you buy it; there is zero reason to doubt him.

Yet then in Gale of Darkness, what happens? It's retconned that Cipher is actually a global organization and that Evice was just the boss of its Orre Region faction, and that his defeat did nothing to impede Cipher's plans other than force the real boss, Mr. Verich aka Greevil, to come to Orre and attend to matters personally. And that is an absolute load of Tauros shit.

If what Gale of Darkness posits was true, then why would Evice say that he was going to rule the world? If he was just working for Greevil, then he'd be working so that Greevil would rule the world. And if Cipher is a global organization, then why do we literally never hear about anything they do that isn't in the Orre Region? In both games it appears that Orre is the end-all, be-all for Cipher's plans; they can't conquer the world unless they first conquer Orre, which means that its creator and boss being someone like Evice, who holds a position of power in Orre, makes perfect logical sense. Imagine if Giovanni didn't hail from Kanto or if Ghetsis wasn't from Unova, it would make their fixations on those regions seem strange.

And more to the point, I fucking hate Happy Ending Overrides like this; the kind that outright retcons a previous victory to the point that it means nothing. In order to up the stakes, Gale of Darkness' story claims that Wes didn't actually thwart shit, he only created a brief delay, and that his biggest contribution was setting the stage in ways for Michael to actually take down Cipher. Wes, a character who was specifically tied to Cipher's conspiracy, doesn't bring an end to it; this new kid with no connection to Cipher or the events of Colosseum at all does.

There was no reason for this. The game could have just had Cipher, founded and run by Evice, truly defeated in Colosseum and this new asshole from overseas, Greevil, gathering its remnants and creating a new incarnation of it for his own purposes. I don't mind those kinds of Happy Ending Overrides since it's evil striking back after having been defeated rather than evil revealing it was never truly defeated at all; heck, Pokémon has done them before with Team Rocket and Team Plasma! Gale of Darkness not doing it in a misguided attempt to give itself more weight only did the opposite and made it feel less significant than its predecessor.

[hypermania]

Omg Court you have to watch The Newsreader. It's like The Newsroom but with disaster bisexuals.

so i actually just blew through both seasons based on a rec by @pynkhues and i had a lot of fun watching but i was also really frustrated the entire time and i couldn't quite put my finger on why. i kept restructuring and rewriting the episodes in my head as i was watching them. at first i thought the problem was that the news station itself wasn't really a character in the show and that made it feel like something was missing, but after watching season two i think i've figured out the real issue: there are no stakes. well, that's not entirely true. there are stakes. i just don't know what they are. i have a vague idea of what some of the characters' goals are but i have no idea why.

i know dale watched the news every night when he was a kid and now wants to be a newsreader but i have literally no idea why. does he want to be famous? does he want to make his family proud in a public way after what happened in high school? does he just want to be rich? does he actually care about the news? did watching the news as a child give him a sense of comfort he wants to give other people? no idea.

i know helen wants to do more hard-hitting news but, again, i have literally no idea why. was journalism always important to her? doesn't really seem like it based on the comments about her being a game show host prior to this. is it not actually about the news itself but her wanting to be taken seriously because she's a woman and believing that's the only way it can happen? is it about her actual politics?

and on that same note, is she actually a nightmare to work with? has she actually had trouble doing her job in the past? is it just garden variety misogyny? i have literally no idea. lindsay makes comments constantly but nothing is actually substantiated. there's never a moment where someone is like "remember that time in '85 when she broke down and we had to cut to dead air?" nobody ever says anything that clarifies whether or not she is actually a problem outside of what we see (and what we see, in my opinion, is her being 10x more professional than almost everybody else, just with a side of tears because she's a mess in her personal life lol).

what about noelene? has it always been her dream to be a big shot producer or is this just a job to her? does she actually care about her career? she says she does but i don't really get that feeling. and how does she feel about rob's casual racism? she makes a comment about him not staying in contact with any of his aboriginal teammates but there is zero follow through on it. is being with him more important to her than her job? if he hadn't apologized and supported her, would she have gone to america? i don't know! and i have no idea why her father doesn't like rob. is it because he's white? because he's older? because he's not good enough for her? is it because he wants more for his daughter? would he feel that way about any guy? or is it rob specifically? no idea!

and those are just the character stakes. there's also a lack of situational stakes that's a problem. i think the best example of this is the episode where they do the election coverage. towards the end, there's a moment that's supposed to be tense while they're waiting to hear about the ratings, but it doesn't feel tense because until that moment, i had no idea that was a concern for them. i mean, i know ratings are a concern because i understand how television programming works, but it wasn't a stake that was set up at all in the episode. the characters should've all been making little comments about the ratings and how important it was to them that they beat geoff throughout the entire episode so that when lindsay finally got that call and everyone was quietly holding their breath, the audience would also be holding their breath along with them to see if they pulled it off. but instead it was just like "oh yeah i guess ratings are probably important? are they trying to be number one? are they trying to get a certain number? oh they just wanted to beat geoff. well that makes sense." it all just fell flat.

anyway, you didn't ask for this critique or my complaints but i needed to get it off my chest. i still greatly enjoyed the show. i love having unapologetic disaster women on my screen. i love seeing what the big news stories were in australia in the eighties. i love how atrocious the fashion is. etc. i had a lot of fun. i'm excited for more episodes.

[zevranunderstander]

i dont really wanna start beef w this but the companions from dragon age inqusition are all so shallow in how they are written tbh?

like. in dao you had characters like zevran, who never expresses his real thoughts and emotions and who you could read as a completely diffrent person if you didn't put actual effort in getting to know him and who has so much complexity to him and his own relationship to his past is *so* interesting to explore. or anders, who slowly develops from a person who wants to help and do good into a deeply resentful and bitter representation of vengeance who sees no other way out than to commit a brutal act of terrorism. or alistair, who is almost a complete inversion of the "rightful heir returns home" trope, who is nothing like you imagine him to be when you first meet him. or isabela, who lies to you from the moment you first meet her and who starts to regret what she did and actually trust you enough to put her life in your hands.

i could go on forever with this, actually, but in the first two games, almost every companion has a very insteresting depth to them that makes them a fully diffrent person than you might expect them to be

and in inquisition, all characters feel lowkey shallow in comparison? first of all, almost nothing the characters do ties into the main story? the stories in dao and da2 would be fundamentally different without your companions, especially da2 is almost entirely character-driven. and the character quests in dai are literally just random, plot un-related stuff. like. its cool that blackwall was a grey warden or that the iron bull secretly is a spy, i guess, but what does it add to the plot of the game? what made it so cool that isabela and anders were lying to you was how *you* suffered their consequences. what they did didn't just tie into the main plot, *you* were associated with them and *you* had to deal with the fallout of their actions. and it's like, cool that blackwall has this dark past but there are no stakes for you in this. why *wouldn't* you sympathize with him and forgive him? the game tries to paint these moments as "*gasp* you lied to me!", but really, this is nothing like the betrayal you feel when isabela basically hands you out to the qunari and runs away and you have to work this out with her

and there is so little to discover about the dai companions, too? like, i think the only character i really like in dai is vivienne, because she is the only character that has some depth to her you can explore. i still don't think vivienne can hold up to most characters in older games, but she actually has motives and if you get to know her, you actually change your opinion of her a bit and while her character quest also has zero impact on the main plot, she still made sense to me as a character and didn't feel completely one-dimensional.

im mainly making this post, because dai was my first dragon age game and i found a lot of old fanart recently and back then i *really* liked dorian. and that got me thinking for a moment because now, like 5 years later, i don't really give a shit about dorian anymore? like, i played dao and da2 after dai and there is so little to his character. his whole plot basically revolves around him being gay, his only character traits actually seem to be that he's a genius mage and, more importantly, that he's gay.

and like, his character almost feels regressive to how sexuality wasn't even a topic in romance in dao and *especially* in da2? and dai almost post-adds homophobia and coversion therapy into a series that didn't really need to have a homophobia problem, just to be like "see? we're being deep and serious right here!", and his story is, like all character quests, very predictable and very generic? and aside from that, there isn't that much to learn about him. most of his other dialogue is either sassy disses of other characters or lore dumps about tevinter that aren't all that related to him

this also brings me to my next point. you don't have an actual group dynamic? like, yeah you can sometimes *ask* a character what he thinks of another character but there isn't much interaction between the companions? like, yeah, some characters are friends/like each other, like sera and blackwall or dorian and the iron bull, but? like, you don't really intiutively know what cassandra thinks of vivienne or what blackwall thinks of dorian or if they have ever even been in the same room or spoken to each other.

da2 obviously excels at the whole group dynamic writing, but also dao (which was way less character driven than da2) put a lot of effort in the dynamic characters had. like, banter in dao usually was used to show how 2 characters interacted with each other, like zevran's and wynne's interactions being about them trying to make eachother incredibly uncomfortable, or alistair and morrigan berating each other - it gave you a very clear idea of what it might be like when you all sit by the campfire and talk. you know stuff like that alistair doesn't trust zevran, that leliana tries to be friends with morrigan, that ohgren feels like wynne is looking down at him, etc. there is very little like that happening in inquisition and banter often is just one continuous joke, like vivienne and dorian making fun of solas' clothing and demeanor or sera making silly jokes to everyone she talks to and somehow you feel like these people just dont talk to each other at all when you aren't around.

say what you want about some characters in da2 hating each other for 10 years straight and still being in the same friend group but when you went to do a quest for merrill, she would be chilling with isabela or anders and varric would be playing cards or your family was up to some shit again, but it felt like all of these people would actually regularly hang out with each other? and in dai these people all live in the same fucking castle and you see them being away from their standart spot maybe once? there is one scene where they all play cards together but tbh for me it did the opposite of what the game wanted me to feel in that moment because i was confornted with "wait, dorian and blackwall really exist in the same world and in the same building? sera and leliana exist in the same game?"

like this game sucks at writing characters and tbh im bitter and i have actually zero hopes for dragon age dreadwolf bc dai feels like a cheap copy of the other two games that really is frustratingly mediocre in every way. like, there is really no aspect of inquisition that it actually excels at or a thing it does better than the older games and dreadwolf seems to want to go in the same direction like dai with the plot being suddenly all about solas and the end of the world and. tbh. i don't think they will pull this off in a way that won't genuinely frustrate me

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3​ and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist : 

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs. 

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours. 

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit. 

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife. 

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor? 

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter. 

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).  

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation. 

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you. 

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now. 

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department. 

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT. 

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame. 

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite. 

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving. 

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize. 

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results. 

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well. 

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it. 

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static. 

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire. 

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does. 

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work. 

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.” 

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.” 

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd. 

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.” 

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.” 

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering. 

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.” 

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.  

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.” 

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.” 

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist. 

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.” 

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move. 

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt. 

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam. 

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance. 

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.” 

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.  

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground. 

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer. 

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really. 

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized. 

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?” 

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember. 

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more. 

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in. 

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional. 

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since. 

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.   

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.” 

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least. 

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.” 

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.” 

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?” 

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.” 

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.” 

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.” 

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.” 

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?” 

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.” 

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident. 

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one. 

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger. 

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges. 

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection. 

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly. 

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together. 

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect. 

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now. 

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.” 

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.” 

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.” 

“You’re going to hell.” 

“I’m already there, mate.” 

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.” 

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night. 

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough. 

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.” 

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.” 

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.” 

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.” 

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!” 

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles. 

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.” 

“You’re older than I am!” 

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal. 

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?” 

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle. 

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned. 

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?” 

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps. 

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend. 

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device. 

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious. 

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does. 

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.” 

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.” 

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.” 

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.” 

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?” 

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?” 

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?” 

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.” 

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.” 

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”  

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face. 

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open. 

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation. 

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.” 

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.” 

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return. 

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.” 

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.” 

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.” 

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.” 

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up. 

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.” 

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake. 

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown. 

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable. 

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him. 

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk. 

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world. 

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs. 

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is. 

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now. 

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.” 

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile. 

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it. 

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie. 

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly. 

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste. 

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke. 

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way. 

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here. 

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight. 

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause. 

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing. 

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him. 

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass. 

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection. 

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface. 

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything. 

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.” 

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.  

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for. 

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.” 

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night. 

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him. 

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.  

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer. 

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding. 

 When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind. 

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner. 

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault. 

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come. 

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes. 

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...” 

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears. 

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own. 

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested. 

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.” 

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job. 

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known. 

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city. 

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life. 

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit. 

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class. 

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again. 

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move. 

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film. 

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity. 

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions. 

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house. 

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree. 

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria. 

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand. 

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them. 

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.” 

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken. 

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs. 

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into  his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger. 

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats. 

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor. 

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.” 

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought. 

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life. 

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail. 

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb. 

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?” 

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.” 

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.” 

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.” 

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.” 

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?” 

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.” 

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human. 

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.” 

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room. 

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly. 

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.” 

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile. 

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.” 

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.” 

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised. 

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.” 

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.” 

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach. 

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.” 

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give. 

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath. 

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.” 

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.” 

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.” 

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.” 

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks. 

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs. 

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge. 

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.” 

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?” 

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.” 

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again. 

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke. 

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.” 

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.” 

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.  

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning. 

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil. 

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.” 

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name. 

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done. 

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight. 

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”  

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.” 

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.” 

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.” 

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night. 

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer. 

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.  

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.  

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had. 

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.” 

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys. 

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell. 

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them. 

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately. 

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.” 

[st-just]

Semi-coherent thoughts on Oathbringer

So, overall probably the most even of the series so far, I’d say? Not to say I didn’t like it – I really, really loved the finale, and there were plenty of great lines, but my god were there a lot of pages spent on nothing happening (honestly it kind of reminded me of the latter volumes of ASOIF, in that sense) – then again, I suppose that is kind of just the nature of these 1000+ page fantasy epics. There were some setting reveals that really were fascinating, and legitimately a bit surprising. Going to have to take a break from the series until the friend I got Rhythm of War for is done so I can borrow it, though I suppose that’s no huge loss compared to the however many years everyone else had to wait in between them.

So in terms of pacing it’s...bad. Or, well, that’s probably a bit unfair. There’s absolutely plenty of fat to cute, but again I do think that might just come with the territory of committing to like a dozen POVs across a tree’s worth of paper (though there were absolutely like 100+ page stretches where I’m not actually sure the plot meaningfully progressed). That said, honestly the main pacing issue isn’t so much the bloat as, like – okay, Dalinar’s arc was a pretty consistent throughline, but for Kalidan and Shallan it kind of felt like there was one whole story in Urithiru, and then from the mission to Kholinar and the journey through the Cognitive Realm felt like its own separate novel? I mean, not sure if that makes any sense, but it really did kind of feel like there was a whole additional first act of table and stakes setting once they arrived in the city.

Though, to argue in favor of bloat for a moment – I was chatting with  @lifeattomsdiner​ bit back about The City We Became, and they mentioned that the size of the cast meant that you don’t actually really get to know any of the protagonists that well on their own. And I suppose that is the advantage of the 1200-page-per-volume epic cycle – even with characters you only really meet in interludes like Szeth, Vargo and Venli (incidentally three of my favorites), you spend enough pages inside of their head that you do really get to see what makes them tick and learn to love/hate them. Speaking of – props to Sanderson as an author, really – it’s vaguely astounding that he manages to keep track of that many internal monologues and actually make them seem distinct from each other.

Breaking things down by character a bit more – this book really did actually enjoy/get invested in Dalinar way more than either of the previous two, which again I’m told is more or less the expected reaction. Given the amount of tumblr brain poison I’m voluntarily exposed myself to, it’s honestly more than a bit of a nice change to see a character on a redemption arc who is actually unambiguously in need of redemption. Because holy shit, pulled, like, exactly two punches in terms of making the guy as genuinely loathsome as possible before he starts breaking. And, well, obviously he was on a redemption arc, but there was a bit near the end there where I really did think that the book was going to cut to black on an ‘end of Act 2, maximum darkness before dawn’ moment with, like, all the Skybreakers and him kneeling before Odium as the city fell. But I suppose that would be a bit much of a cliffhanger for a series with installments this weighty.

This was pretty clearly Shallan’s ‘getting over my personal bullshit’ book, like WoR was for Kaladin and WoK was for Dalinar, though spicing things up with increasingly severe DID as the book went on did make things more interesting at least. Also, I have no idea if this is actually true, but according to the friend who pestered me into reading these when someone asked Sanderson if he’d intentionally written her as bi he just kind of shrugged and said ‘sure, why not,’ which is fun. It was more than a bit, I don’t know, forced?, to have Wit just wander in from stage left and give her a desperately needed therapy session while she was in the middle of a breakdown and propel her development for most of the rest of the book, but on the other hand she’s pretty easily the main POV I’m most invested in by now, and the live triangle the text repeatedly threatened me with never actually became a thing, so I can’t really complain too much. Honestly super curious about the Ghostbloods and what they want out of her given, well, for a shadowy murderous conspiracy, everything they’ve wanted out of her so far has been pretty much entirely benign. Like, of the three major shadowy murderous conspiracies they’re easily the least problematic for the future of humanity at the moment. She should just commit and join for real imo.

As always, Kaladin’s POV is mostly good because it means we get more Syl, who is the single best character in the entire story I’ve decided. But also, I really quite liked his whole sojourn with the newly freed Parshmen and dawning realization that ‘wait these people are basically entirely right’. Also, the delicious delicious angst of spending however many dozens of pages getting to know them and then the wall guard and then the two groups killing each other in a confused melee while he has a mental breakdown. Easily best moment in the book (but then I’m a miserable person).

Adolin is honestly significantly more entertaining to follow than I really expected, though I’m still not like especially invested in him as a character. His relationship with his tailor was quite charming, though, as was the fact that he cares enough about fashion that he learned to sew. Honestly I was rather expecting/slightly dreading his main arc this book to be, like, inadequacy or insecurity over being almost literally the only member of his family that’s not a Radiant, so it’s kind of a pleasant surprise that he seems to have just accepted that (too well-adjust, I guess?). It is however extremely funny that the fact he just straight-up murdered one of the kingdom’s most important aristocrats and the major antagonist of the first two books seems to have resulted in absolutely zero consequences of any kind for him.

In terms of minor characters, the one I’m most invested in by a pretty substantial margin at this point is Venli, as she’s getting a front row seat to all the most interesting bits of the setting, ‘cultist growing increasingly disillusioned about return of ancient and terrible eldritch god’ is a really entertaining character arc just in principle, and because as of the end of the book she represents the morally objectively correct perspective and political line I’ve decided and will fight people about. Curious what sort of superpowers she’ll get. (Vargo and Szeth are still both great though, too).

The Unmade are really fun as a worldbuilding conceit/excuse for weird fucked up monsters. And it really is kind of funny that at least a third of the God of Evil’s nine generals/children/favoured beasts are, like, at conflicted or ambivalent about the whole ‘exterminate humanity and remake the world as a monument to my glory’ thing.  

Really, on an extremely shallow and entirely aesthetic level, between the evil red crystal/lightning aesthetic, the remote mountain fortress as a stronghold of the heroes in the face of the coming apocalypse, tears into the realm of spirits, the quirky evil minibosses each handling corrupting/conquering a given center of civilization, etc, the whole thing kind of reminded me of Dragon Age Inquisition. Which reminded me of how disappointing the story to that game was, which made me like the book more by comparison, but anyway. Yeah, good book.

[max1461]

Just read Scott Alexander’s post on “conflict theorists” vs. “mistake theorists” and, hmm. I have several thoughts. First, to summarize the concept for anyone who hasn’t seen it before: Alexander links to a reddit post by user u/no_bear_so_low, who originated the idea, saying

There is a way of carving up politics in which there are two basic political meta-theories, that is to say theories about why different political ideologies and political conflict exist. The first theory is that political disagreements exist because politics is complex and people make mistakes, if we all understood the evidence better, we’d agree on a great deal more. We’ll call this the mistake theory of politics. For the mistake theorist, politics is not a zero-sum game, but a matter of growing the pie so there is more for everyone. The second theory is that political disagreements reflect differences in interests which are largely irreconcilable. We’ll call this the conflict theory of politics. According to the conflict theory of politics, politics is full of zero-sum games.

u/no_bear_so_low claims that both the far left and far right are more amenable to conflict theory than liberals are, who lean more towards mistake theory. Alexander seems to agree, though in his own post he’s speaking mainly about Marxists in particular. He summarizes the concept as follows:

To massively oversimplify:

Mistake theorists treat politics as science, engineering, or medicine. The State is diseased. We’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure. Some of us have good ideas, others have bad ideas that wouldn’t help, or that would cause too many side effects.

Conflict theorists treat politics as war. Different blocs with different interests are forever fighting to determine whether the State exists to enrich the Elites or to help the People.

In addition, Alexander subdivides the categories further into “hard” and “soft” versions:

Consider a further distinction between easy and hard mistake theorists. Easy mistake theorists think that all our problems come from very stupid people making very simple mistakes; dumb people deny the evidence about global warming; smart people don’t. Hard mistake theorists think that the questions involved are really complicated and require more evidence than we’ve been able to collect so far [...]

Maybe there’s a further distinction between easy and hard conflict theorists. Easy conflict theorists think that all our problems come from cartoon-villain caricatures wanting very evil things; bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil, good people want world peace and tolerance. Hard conflict theorists think that our problems come from clashes between differing but comprehensible worldviews.

So what do I think about all this?

Well, it seems to me that this framework is (a) a fairly reasonable descriptive dichotomy, in the sense that, yes, a lot of people do genuinely seem to fall into one of these two camps, and (b) a horrible dichotomy on which to base any prescriptions about political meta-theory, in that these are both awful (and obviously wrong) ways to think about the world. Now, Alexander doesn’t explicitly give any such prescriptions, but he does describe SCC as “hard mistake theorist central”, and generally speaks of mistake theory in approving terms, while speaking of conflict theory in disapproving ones. I think this is bad.

At a base level, my problem with both these “theories” is that they’re, in some sense, just too optimistic.

I agree, for example, with the hard mistake theorist sentiment that the world is full of extremely challenging technical problems, that these problems can be the source of real human suffering, and that the only way to address these problems is through data collection and empirical analysis and hard technical work. And I agree that this will often produce unintuitive conclusions, that run against people’s gut sense of what the right policy might look like. I agree that the state is diseased. I do not agree that “[w]e’re all doctors, standing around arguing over the best diagnosis and cure.” People, it turns out, often do have genuinely different and irreconcilable values, and genuinely do envision different ideal worlds. In addition to that fairly mundane observation, there genuinely are a lot of bad actors, who are just in the game for their own benefit. The world is full of grifters, schemers, and petty (or not so petty) tyrants; on an empirical level that’s just not something you can deny.

On the other hand, I agree with the easy conflict theorist sentiment that, e.g., “bad people want to kill brown people and steal their oil.” There’s plenty of pretty immediate proof of that to be found if you look into the history of colonialism¹, or the slave trade, or US foreign election interference in the twentieth century. Actually, just so I’m not pissing anybody off by only mentioning “western” examples, I’ll include the Khmer Rouge and the Holodomor and comfort women and uh, you get the picture. For god’s sake, the Nazis really existed, and yeah, they really believed all that Nazi shit. In retrospect they may seem like implausibly evil cartoon villains, but in fact they were real flesh and blood humans, just like the rest of us. You think that was just a one-off?

And on a much more mundane note, sometimes (actually, very very often), ordinary people just have incompatible ethical axioms. Sometimes people have genuinely different values, and there are no rational means to sort out which value-set to choose. I suspect this is at least part of the reason for the rationalist community’s skew towards mistake theorizers, in that their favored intellectual tool has more-or-less nothing to offer when it comes to selecting your values (=ethical axioms, =terminal goals, etc). I mean, of course rationality is good for diagnosing contradictions in your value set, but it can’t tell you how to resolve those contradictions. That’s the domain of intuition, empathy, and aesthetics, were data cannot light your way.

However, I do not agree with the conflict theorists’ underlying sentiment that if “the good people” were just in charge, everything would be better. After all, there are all those pesky technical problems with unintuitive solutions getting in the way, requiring all kinds of expertise and thorough empirical study and uh, plenty of them might not even be solvable.² This is a huge deal. It’s incredibly easy to have the best of intentions and still make horrible mistakes by virtue of just... happening to have the facts wrong. Not through malice, or self-interest, or even some nicely-explainable sociological bias like white fragility or whatever. Just because problems are hard, and sometime you will fail to solve them. Even when people’s lives and livelihoods are at stake.

Here’s a handy latex-formatted table for your comprehending pleasure:

lol, we live there.

So this all sounds a bit pessimistic and, well, I suppose it is. I think we have a responsibility to acknowledge the gravity of our situation. We could, conceivably, live in a world that was structured according to either the conflict theorist’s vision or the mistake theorist’s vision, but we don’t. We live in a much scarier world, and if we don’t face that terrifying reality head-on, we’re not going to be able to overcome it.

Now, in general, I’d say I spend a lot of my internet-argument-energy-allowance trying to persuade [what I perceive to be] overly conflict-theorizing leftists in the direction of a greater recognition of the genuine technical difficulty of the problems we face. It's probably worth making a separate post about why I think a “denial of unintuitive solutions” is so common on the left, but I’ll just mention here that I think it relates to what I once jokingly called the “Humanistic gaze”. That is, the bias to view everything quite narrowly through the lens of the humanities, and to view all problems as fundamentally sociological in nature. When the world is constructed entirely by humans and human social relations, there’s a level at which nothing can be unintuitive. After all, an intersubjective world must ultimately be grounded in subjective experience, and subjective experience is literally made of intuition.

I usually don’t spend much time pursuing the dual activity (trying to argue liberals out of [what I perceive to be] an overly mistake-theorizing perspective). This is largely because, well, I think the optimistic assumption that mistake theorists make —that most people have basically compatible goals, and that relatively few people are working out of abject self-interest or hatred or whatever— is so obviously false that it doesn’t warrant as much genuine critique as it warrants responding with memes about US war crimes. The principal of charity is best extended to ideas, not people or institutions. You can take the neocons’ arguments seriously without extending charity to the neocons as agents.

The post concludes with Alexander writing

But overall I’m less sure of myself than before and think this deserves more treatment as a hard case that needs to be argued in more specific situations. Certainly “everyone in government is already a good person, and just has to be convinced of the right facts” is looking less plausible these days.

And uh, yeah. Indeed.

So, in conclusion: is politics medicine, or is it war? No, it’s politics.

There are disagreements, and conflicts of interest, and coalition building, and policy-wonkery, and logistics. There is, as with anything involving the state, the implicit threat of violence. (That’s where the state’s power comes from, remember? Whether it’s their power to tax, or their power to enforce individual property rights to begin with. Their power to regulate or build infrastructure or legally construct corporate personhood or whatever. There’s more than a bit of game theory involved, sure, but the rules of the game are set through the armory.) Every scholarly technocrat with double-blind peer reviewed policy suggestions still ultimately just decides who the guns get pointed at, if at several layers of abstraction. Every righteous people’s vanguard is still bound by the mathematics of production and the dynamics of a chaotic world. There are no easy solution, not conceptually easy nor practically easy. And unless we recognize that on a very deep level, we have no chance of fixing anything.

[1] I’d quote my go-to example here, of the truly ghastly stories relayed to linguist R. M. Dixon by the Dyirbal people of Australia about their subjugation at the hands of white settlers, but unfortunately I don’t have his book with me at the moment. Also this post would require several additional trigger warnings.

[2] I mean, after all, there are only countably many Turing machines, and the set of all languages with finitely many symbols has cardinality 2^(aleph_0)!

[ksbwnotes]

Chapter 9, Part 1

Ahhhh...poor son of a bitch.

1. Heyyyyy, green tape

Hmmmn, Koogi seems to use green a lot...is that just more common a color for duct tape in Korea? But thing is, her main outfit for Bum is green tones. And he likes froggies, which are green. 

Also, we never do see Sangwoo use this tape with CEO daughter girl (just ropes, a cloth for her mouth, and this weird metal thing to cover her eyes). Or with Bum, for that matter (I only saw it so far used with Koogi’s illustrations, which are a different matter altogether...I might be mistaken, I won’t skip to that part, but Sangwoo might have used it on Bum in the last chapters, which could signify how far his mentality has deteriorated). 

But this guy is different. Sangwoo has no emotional attachment to him.  The duct tape could be, in a way, signifying how worthless this person is to Sangwoo. That he’s nothing more than a box full of unsavory memories he would rather tape shut forever and throw away to rot.

2. Ooohp. Bastard’s bringing out his iconic apron

Sangwoo the butcher.

But this is something new that we haven’t seen before. Again, Sangwoo has never once wore this with Bum. So that means Sangwoo truly has no intentions of going easy on this guy. Blood is going to be pretty much spurting every-the-fuck-where. 

So even though Sangwoo doesn’t consciously plan to kill someone, he has his habits and ideas down to a pat so that once he does get into that territory, he can more or less get right down to it. Sangwoo seems to do what he can to ‘separate’ himself from his atrocious acts, but also fulfilling an ‘aesthetic’ that fits with the atrocity he has become. 

Like, that apron.  Too risky to wear regular clothes, so apron is the next best thing and can act as a barrier of some sort once the blood goes flying. It’ll reduce how much splatters onto his skin and how much of his body he has to actually clean. It’s also just keep things less gross and more sanitary that way lol.

3. I am the type to find this funny and really be amused by Sangwoo’s smartass-ness

I suck at being a smartass and I can’t do it, so I really appreciate it whenever someone else can, even if it’s mean lol. But if it’s mean, it’s a guilty pleasure for me, like right now. x’D

4. Honestly, Sangwoo, how did you get yourself into this situation...

Oh!  So he was able to get out of the blow job. Nice. The guy was actually respectful. If Sangwoo were sane, he’d understand this and just run away instead of luring this guy in to kill him. 

But, really, why did Sangwoo put himself into this position?  I don’t have anything foolproof as evidence, but I really don’t think Sangwoo is the type who actually needs to kill at specific intervals as an outlet.

If anything, Sangwoo has a more...instinctual response to sexual situations, like Bum. For Bum, he becomes hyper-aroused and zeroes in on the pleasure to a point that it overrides his more logical line of thinking. The “he’s a killer I should be scared” becomes “it feels so good and nothing else can exist but this pleasure”.

For Sangwoo, he has two modes. The first one is passive, where he’s just following his partner’s whims and saying that he’s enjoying things but he’s actually just powerless to resist. It’s his instinctual reaction after being forced to just...take his mom’s advances. He feels empty, like a doll that is just meant to be used and taken for pleasure. It’s no better than being a corpse that is fulfilling another’s necrophilic tendencies.

The second mode, I believe, came to be as a self-defense mechanism to the first mode. In order to avoid ever feeling like that, he is in control of everything. He has complete dominance over his partner. In a way, the extreme violence is the only way he can genuinely feel pleasure because he’s ‘safe’. He can literally go one way or the other, his trauma has made it impossible for him to have any other mode than ‘docile’ or ‘predator’. 

5. Well, even without the possibility of murdering someone, Sangwoo choosing an alias is no surprise

He did go into a gay bar, lol.

I also find it interesting that this is where we get a look into Bum’s thoughts. And it’s regarding Sangwoo’s alias. 

Also, now I am wondering if Sangwoo ever resorted to using aliases with his other prey. Because if he had, then this does add a whole other layer of premeditation to his serial killing. Even if he’s not purposefully scouting for prey, it would at least mean he’s always prepared in the event that he comes across prey. 

That is what makes Jieun such an outlier and also Sangwoo’s downfall in terms of getting caught. Jieun knows Sangwoo personally. There is a connection between them. And her disappearance could easily be traced back to him. Sangwoo isn’t an idiot. He knows how to pick and choose his prey and he probably makes sure to never make it so that the prey can call him by name. 

That is also what makes Bum such an interesting outlier. Because Sangwoo is risking A LOT just to keep him--someone who knows Sangwoo’s real name and actually has witnessed his personal life, both in the outside world and behind closed doors. Sangwoo chose him over the girl. Sangwoo broke his legs, not only to keep Bum from escaping, but to keep Bum with him. 

This does suggest that Sangwoo is not serial killing for the thrill of it (at least, not just for that), but because he’s in search for something that could replace the kills. Sangwoo doesn’t want a pile of dead bodies under his feet--he wants one alive body to stay by his side and love him, in spite of those dead bodies. 

6. ....cute motherfucker

Koogi, I resent you so much for making him this cute...

Honestly though, it just strikes me how Sangwoo keeps trying to keep on a carefree and happy facade even during times like these. We do later see him doing that as a habit as a child, so it fits that he does that on steroids during his adult years, especially considering the things he does. I’ll refer back to this when we get to Jieun’s death scene.

7. Shows of weakness

Ah damn I’m going to have to revisit this part. I have a lot of thoughts on it, but I’m too sleep deprived to actually make sense of it. But this part is important in understanding Sangwoo’s mentality and the ways he tries to train Bum to fit a certain image.

Aaaaaand today is a new day!!  So going forth:

During the times Bum showed fear and was trembling, I do think a major part of why Sangwoo hates it so much is because it reminds him of how much of a monster he is. But I also think it’s because it reminds him of his mom, which he does say about Bum’s trembling. Because no matter what happened to his mom, she never learned her lesson. If she were able to change, then Sangwoo’s childhood would be less painful. 

But Bum being quiet and looking scared, but still able to meet Sangwoo’s eyes...that reminds Sangwoo of what he was while with his parents. And even though Sangwoo does hate himself--to a point where he doesn’t want to change because he has no belief he can be better--I do think he’s grieving for that child who had no clue that things will just get worse and worse from there. 

Especially since, from what I’m assuming, he knew how to manipulate his image so that he could avoid being beaten and locked up like his mother. So he would hold more respect towards his conditioned response versus his mother’s conditioned response. He probably refused to admit to himself how he felt back then, because obviously that’s a cruel thought to have and Sangwoo’s level of empathy was still average to high at the time. But it still doesn’t erase his resentment towards her inability to be better (I think this also contributed to why Sangwoo presumably felt ‘free’ after his first kill).

I think I’ll have a better grasp over my thoughts once we get to Jieun’s death >_< 

8. *opens mouth, then silently closes it*

That first sentence probably is not meant to sound the way Sangwoo makes it sound. xD  Which is a bit too gay for someone who firmly claims he is wholly hetero.

Oh actually this is funny. Since the only other person in the basement is a guy, the card dude probably thinks Sangwoo really is gay or internalized-antigay or something. But the truth is a lot more complex and sinister than what it appears to be on the surface.

9. Ooooooh, high stakes indeed

Lol, this does drive home the idea to me that Sangwoo is really pissed at Bum. Because, again, he would’ve never went to that gay bar had it not been for Bum. So, in a way, even though Sangwoo internally knows Bum isn’t the one going out in a body bag, this instillation of fear is a punishment for making him question his sexuality in a way that triggered Sangwoo’s trauma. Because there is literally no safe way for Sangwoo to explore his sexuality considering his past and his current lifestyle.

On the other end of the spectrum, I wonder how Bum is feeling about this. He probably genuinely believes that Sangwoo is genuinely putting Bum’s life on the line, in a way that if he fails the card game, he’ll die. Like. I definitely would. No matter what past form of affection Sangwoo showed, if he says he’ll kill me, I would full-heartedly be like “Yeah. Yeah, I don’t doubt you, hun.”

And, still, Bum knows better now than to complain or beg. Because unlike his mother, despite his own mental issues, Bum can be trained and that is why Sangwoo keeps him around.

10. Where do you come up with these things, you bastard

I mean, seriously, he has so many ideas on how to break a person. These are more psychopathic than sociopathic tendencies, I think, so that’s why Sangwoo right now, is a high-functioning sociopath.

11. Oh my fkkn god tho, this smart boi XD

Or maybe I’m just dumb and have no clue how to play cards. 

Or maybe Sangwoo has been spending time with Bum playing cards.

Or maybe Bum is just good at cards and has spent his time practicing them.

Either way, the fact that Bum is able to fkkn pay attention during these times shows that his own trauma and mental issues have no bearing on how smart he actually is. He doesn’t have strong observation skills and is slow to understand people, but that’s more of a natural character trait, even if it is more emphasized by his mental disorders...mmmn, I do kinda wonder if Bum could have some traits shared with autism but I’m too neruotypical and untrained to say whether or not he does.

12. No seriously, we have creative Sangwoo here with this card game from hell...

...Then we have Bum here able to pull out logical conclusions like his mind is clear despite the immense anxiety and pressure of the situation. There’s a reason why Bum is still alive. For some reason, the longer Bum is stuck in his situation, the more 

13. Seriously, I could stab him in the eye for being so cute despite being revolting, it’s not RIGHT KOOGI

Stab stab stab stab

14. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I still can’t help but point out how Sangwoo is making sure to be close to Card!dude and facing Bum

This would be the most logical choice since it will ensure his victim doesn’t try to escape. And even if he does, he can quickly do shit like pulling back his hair if he tries to be ‘bratty’. Also, being behind someone like this is meant to represent a menacing appearance and being the ‘controller’ behind the scenes. Sangwoo has the upperhand since card!dude can’t see him and Sangwoo can do whatever he wants to the guy. 

But this also puts Sangwoo and Bum on more equal ground. Sort of like “partners in crime” because they can face each other and communicate via body language. In a way, Sangwoo can help Bum or make Bum do things, influencing his next move. While, at the same time, keeping a literal eye on Bum but without the upperhand he has on card!dude--because Bum can also keep an eye out on him. 

15. I’d probably laugh if I were Sangwoo too lol

I bet you Sangwoo didn’t expect Bum to actually get the goddamn ace. The fact that Bum is this fkkn lucky is indicative of how Bum is lucky enough to even be alive at this point. Bum has been able to avoid his ‘fate of death’ over and over again that, honestly, the sheer disbelief of it is ridiculous. But it’s also like Sangwoo is saying ‘Of course you’d get the goddamn ace. Of course you would, you little shit, why am I even still surprised by you at this point’.

In a way, Sangwoo might also be thinking that ‘Huh, it’s like I meant to mess with the cards so that’d they be in your favor.’ But of course, he can’t have that because Bum being ‘too’ happy about things means he won’t be able to control Bum. So, for Bum’s case, he’s doing a second round to train Bum further, rather than to fuck with him before he kills him (like what he’s doing with card!dude).

Other than that, this is also indicative of just how well Bum is dealing with the anxiety of this moment. Card!dude might have done better (though he can’t have that much control over the cards) under normal circumstances, but between the both of them, Bum is actually calm enough to think things through. It says a lot about his capabilities lol. It makes me wonder what kind of person he could’ve been had he been raised well.

ALSO, AGAIN WITH YOU BEING CUTE SANGWOO. NO. ESPECIALLY NOT UNDER THESE CIRCUMSTANCES YOU ASSHOLE. STOP IT.

16. Lol, even though this is a throwaway line, I think this is indicative of who Sangwoo has already chosen

This is really like a “come on, partner in crime, get up to my level here and let’s fuck with this fucker together”. But the thing is, Bum is just as much a victim as this guy. There is literally no way for Bum to think any other way but Sangwoo fucking with both of them, not just card!dude. 

Because the thing is, if Bum forgot himself and reacted the same way as card!dude, Sangwoo would kill him, along with card!dude.

But yeah, it does make me think of how Sangwoo would’ve reacted if card!dude actually won. How would his script go? Would he still do a practice round? Or would that have been enough for Sangwoo, and he would’ve skipped to the next part of his plan?

I don’t think this second round was something Sangwoo expected. And that really drove home to him how Bum keeps surpassing his expectations again and again. 

17. *wince* Oohp.

The trembling and slight protest. Definitely not what Sangwoo wants to see. I can’t blame Bum for responding like this, BECAUSE A FKKN SERIAL KILLER IS PRETTY MUCH TRYING TO SCREW HIM OVER, but at the same time, he should know better than to respond this way. 

I also do think, other than the threat to his life, Bum is perceiving this as Sangwoo ‘choosing’ card!dude over Bum. It’s like a rejection and that probably hits Bum’s rejection sensitivity. If it was just a threat to his life, Bum would probably be able to still stay silent at this point (uh, most likely not because again, life is on the line, but still maybe). However, there’s also this sense that Sangwoo doesn’t actually want him to live--that the card game is just an excuse to kill Bum.

18.  think it says a lot that Sangwoo still responds to Bum’s protest via ‘patting’ him on the head rather than pulling on his hair. 

If card!dude was more intuitive, then he probably would’ve noticed that something was off in the way Sangwoo was treating Bum. More leniently. Because any small variation in treatment is not a promising outlook for card!dude.

But the thing is--now that I know how the ending is--Sangwoo is just doing this as a way to fuck with the other dude.  Actually he was probably proud of Bum winning so that he could further fuck with card!dude and make him taste the bitterness of false hope. Sort of like a “heh, you did better than I thought you would”. 

Sangwoo does want him to live because this card game is not about ‘who’ to choose. Sangwoo has already chosen Bum. This is just a matter of how much satisfaction Sangwoo can get against his revenge on the other guy.

Though, Bum is genuinely worried because why would he think that lol. There is also this thing where Sangwoo chose to kill a pretty girl and keep him, a skinny male loser, alive. So from his stand point, Sangwoo’s choices are difficult to pinpoint. Bum also won’t see himself as more ‘attractive’ than card!dude, so he most likely was scared that Sangwoo’s choices has changed once again and he would be thrown away like CEO daughter.

19. Hmmmn...

Now that card!dude has been given a second chance and can see Sangwoo’s willingness as a show of ‘favorability’, he has more control over his anxiety (which I do think is different from Bum, who has this sort of ‘on-off’ button for his anxiety, versus card!dude who seems to have more of a ‘reduction-enlargement’ slider). He probably feels more confident. 

And this is probably exactly what Sangwoo wanted, because then that will make the fall so much sweeter, the look of horror that much more gratifying.

20. Really, and there were people who wanted Sangwoo and Bum to have a happily ever after

The psychological warfare Sangwoo is putting onto Bum is so brutal that it’s really difficult to keep reading. Again, Koogi making it so that Sangwoo got better, then got worse when he realized he couldn’t handle what it means to ‘improve’, and then die...it made me respect this work so much, because nothing about this is romanticized.  And furthermore, Bum didn’t die, but at the same time, he was scars that will never be able to heal. His mentality was worse in the end than it was in the beginning, which is a goddamn feat because there wasn’t much left for him to fall.

Another alternative that I saw float around was Bum and Sangwoo dying together and...no. No no no. That’s too romanticized as well. And Bum being left alive while Sangwoo dies has this very...god I don’t even know how to explain. It’s not a happy ending. For me, there’s no vindication for it because I got to see just how deeply Sangwoo was suffering, which made it impossible for me to enjoy his death despite every incredibly shitty thing he has done. It was literally just...a masterpiece. One that showed just how, really, there are places on earth that truly have no hope and the suffering only ends with death. 

I usually never like nihilistic stories like these. Like seriously, there’s a reason why I avoided Killing Stalking like the plague. But after so many stories where things have a happy ending just because they MUST, it doesn’t only get tiring, but destructive for me. 

And Killing Stalking is special to me because instead of showing that everything was hopeless in the beginning just BECAUSE life is hopeless, period...it shows that things could’ve gone differently because Sangwoo and Bum were never truly without hope in the beginning. Sangwoo wasn’t a classic serial killer. Bum just needed better guidance. They just needed to be given a goddamn chance, like so many people in the world in general.

Instead of outright nihilism, it’s more in line with existentialism and that things reach the point of no return if nothing is changed. Or that if there are changes, it’s the type of change that makes things worse and doesn’t allow for healing.

Anyways, I don’t quite have all my thoughts on this together, so this is something I have to revisit once I’m done reading KS.

[nautilusopus]

Why do you hate the remake? The ending?

AMONG MANY MANY MANY MANY MANY MANY OTHER THINGS

AHEM:

the ending

the way everyone’s character is botched

this goes triple for poor cloud and tifa because they literally aren’t allowed to have either meaningful character interactions or character development because they CAN’T because this is the first five hours of the game stretched into 40 hours so we can’t get into nibelheim yet because we have to “save” it

the fact that this is the first five hours stretched into 40 hours and thus is largely padding

the handling of sector 7, where we go from watching actual people we care about die to seeing literally zero people die at all and also we evacuated the slums so it’s cool

especially egregious considering the game made us do so many stupid sidequests in the (way too clean and sunny) slums to get attached to these npcs only to kill literally zero of them

they still kill barret though so they don’t have to have him fight jenova with everyone else because he’s not a REAL character, let’s get him out of the serious moments. except they can’t kill barret so he’s back immediately due to time bullshit, great

on a related note, the complete and utter lack of any real stakes

the way aeris has fucking future knowledge

the way the vii universe, due to the addition of Fate, now has the judas problem. if the planet can literally fucking control fate why didn’t it just keep jenova from landing? why didn’t it keep shinra from becoming a thing? the only answer is that jenova and shinra are intended to do the things they do and thus are actually under the planet’s control and are not accountable for their actions

the fact that this is sephiroth’s motivation now or something, instead of the actual personality he used to have where he acted as a foil to cloud with his inability to accept unpleasant truths about himself and instead creating a grand narrative for himself where he has not been victimised by unfair and unglamorous circumstances and responded to this by making bad choices

the fact that fate is now a concept in this game at all and how completely and utterly fucking insulting that is and how much of a disservice it is to everything the original stood for on a fundamental level. a game that was literally about how there is no inherent meaning in some grand scheme, and that on a cosmic scale we are insignificant and the planet doesn’t give two shits if we live or die, so therefore we must create our own meaning, small and irrelevant to vast forces like the inevitability of pain and death as they are, and that the meaning we create with other small and insignificant human beings is nonetheless something with value, and that in fact it is harmful to try and pretend there is some vast cosmic significance to your actions and that there doesn’t have to be because your life having value to you is enough, especially in the face of something as absurd as the inevitability of death and pain, now has fucking fate in it. actually, cloud DOES matter on a vast cosmic scale! everyone’s deaths do! and in fact those deaths are unnatural and you’re going to prevent them! hooray!

this is yet another narrative, following in the footsteps of harry potter and the new star wars trilogy, that pretends to be about a nobody going on to defy odds anyway only to turn around and say actually lol no they were special the whole time.

cloud’s handling in general even outside of that. aforementioned lack of development aside, he’s simultaneously way too chilly and way too casual with everyone, with the most meaningful interactions he gets to have being shallow fucking flirting with tifa and him walking around making put upon faces with aeris

the fandom thirst over literal sex traffickers

the fact that this was marketed as a remake when it is AT BEST a series reboot that relies on you having played the og to understand what the fuck is going on half the time

* the utter lack of reading comprehension among the fans that still somehow think they’re going to get other “iconic og moments” remade. did you fuckers miss the ending somehow? about how we’re doing none of that actually? about how they’re going to Defy Fate? you aren’t getting those moments. period. the entire fucking game and ending is literally about that. about how we’re going to Prevent All The Bad Things

the fact that the above was done because they clearly started out trying to actually remake the gam, realised they bit off more than they could chew, and then went LOL NO PROMISES at the last minute with some kingdom hearts bullshit that would let them wiggle out of any long term plot commitments at any time (and also shoehorn zack in because of fucking course he’s here too)

pacing pacing pacing. aside from the atrocious padding problems, you’ve also got sephiroth showing up and mugging the camera every three minutes, because he has to, because this is the first five hours of the game so they need to cram him in there anyway regardless of what it does to the story or no one will buy their stupid game. also they drop the “cloud was never in soldier lol” WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY too fucking early, jesus christ. good to know any kind of subtlety is just out the fucking window entirely now

what they did to poor sephiroth, easily the worst handled character in this whole mess. sephiroth sweetie i’m so sorry holy shit

whatever the fuck they were doing with cait sith

taking a big old fucking dump on any themes and meaning the original had in general which i won’t get into too much because it would take forever but you can read more about that here

how they handled shinra and avalanche, or rather how they didn’t handle it and made everything as black and white as possible

jessie’s thirst is extremely annoying and i’m over it

the fact that the fanbase keeps trying to simultaneously go “no it’s only the first chapter of course there’s no explanations” in response to pacing criticisms while also trying to go “no no they had to make it feel like a full game” in response to massive fucking story changes that only served to bloat the pacing

because they can’t bring up nibelheim yet, in this forty hour game (but still have time to go Zack Is Alive Now Also There Is Fate) tifa has no motivation or personality or connection to cloud and barret to speak of. also where the fuck is her anger, holy shit. she regrets joining avalanche? she isn’t

the fact that the fanbase is not only fine with all these changes, changes which again are being made directly in the name of profit to the detriment of good storytelling, but also are even pushing this as the “intended, fleshed out” version of the story they always wanted to tell but couldn’t

bad soundtrack, fight me

midgar and especially the slums look boring

the turks are good now uwu

no Trail of Blood sequence. again, pacing issues. this was meant to be your introduction to sephiroth to set the tone and establish how dangerous he was and how he was the REAL bad guy, but because we’ve seen him every three seconds at this point the whole sequence got cut and it was one of the best sequences there was

the fact that the interviews repeatedly indicate to me that they don’t seem to understand that not every goddamn irrelevant detail needs an explanation (a problem they seem to have carried over from crisis core so that’s great) but that they don’t seem to care about things that DO need explanations and that zero genuine thought was put into the worldbuilding

the way barret’s treated as a joke by the narrative when he’s literally fucking correct

the obsession with Realism (TM) to the point where it creates more tone problems than it solves at times (cloud can fucking fly in cutscenes but can’t hop over a two foot fence)

LET CLOUD BE A DOOFUS YOU COWARDS

about the only character that made it out with their personality intact was aeris and even she’s gone and had her motivations scuttled so it doesn’t matter, yaaaaaaaaay

i can’t fucking believe the remake has made me AVOID fics with jessie biggs and wedge in them. before it was a marker of quality. look what you’ve done.

cloud has an apartment now instead of living with avalanche in the basement. this is also done in the name of Realism but also kind of sucks away the charm imo and makes it that much harder to buy any of these assholes as found family

the timeline of all of this no longer taking place over like three weeks is once again a result of pacing issues. i’m sure this won’t bite us in the ass at all.

god remember when we thought roche was gonna be the worst addition? simpler times

also roche

and yeah the whole ass ending, complete with homage to the ending of ffvii period with the weird doctor who brain tunnel that makes no fucking sense to be here and is only gonna confuse people who don’t know this is supposed to be a callback, and even if it was why is it here, you can’t just fucking copy/paste Famous Moments with none of the emotional beats or writing to back them up or lead into them, context MATTERS did you fuckers learn nothing from the travesty of hollow writing that was ffxv and especially prompto?

the fact that people are looking at this fucking travesty and just assuming the og is like this too and not bothering to play it either because they loved the remake (for some reason???) or because they hated it and now wouldn’t play the og if their life depended on it, which breaks my heart most of all. “the original is still there!!!” is a meaningless overture if people refuse to engage critically with it on any level at all, which as we’ve outlined is absolutely what is happening. this is what people meant when we said the remake would erase the og, and on multiple levels, whether it’s people assuming the og was always meant to be like this, or seeing no reason to play it, or once again failing to recognise what the remake very loudly screams in your face it’s doing and assuming that of course we’re getting a vii remake with all those moments we care about, this is what has been happening.

i can’t even fucking imagine what the northern crater scene is gonna look like now, IF we get one at all. and that’s a big fucking if

i know i’ve missed a lot of them but i hope this helps

[ufonaut]

I hope this isn’t annoying, but what’s your take on how dragon king and the wizard viewed jordan and henry’s weird power relationship and differing views on project New America? Like how henry allowed jordan to be in charge before hank died, and how jordan’s ideas didn’t seem to translate to henry’s endgame in the finale? It sucks that we missed henry’s speech later in the season because I would have loved to see the other ISA’s reaction to henry’s new (well more like stepped-into) power. Like dragon king seemed invested in jordan’s dream and the wizard probably believed more in what jordan would have wanted instead of what henry enacted, you know? Also sorry if this sounds like an essay prompt- the ISA relationship, especially jordan and henry makes me feral 😅

absolutely no worries, this isn’t annoying at all! might be the film student in me talking but analysing my favourite media is my no 1 hobby & passion so there’s nothing more validating than anyone being interested in my thoughts, genuinely thank you for reaching out to me!!! sorry it took me a hot minute to get back to you, i wanted to make sure i’d have the time to get into it because i really do genuinely love this

OKAY. LET’S DO THIS. ONE BY ONE.

first off, i think it’s important to note that the project: new america is actually the world’s most high stakes game of telephone. not a single person in the isa has the same vision for the endgame here nor for the means to achieve it

that being said, dr ito fundamentally couldn’t have been invested in jordan’s dream. out of every character in stargirl, he’s the one who’s changed the least and who has remained the most comic book-y level of one-dimensional evil (disclaimer: not a bad thing! sometimes rule of cool is well-earned, particularly in the case of lizard men). let’s recap what we actually know for a fact about dr shiro ito:

so we’ve got the following conclusions: ‘controversial’ scientist specifically means scientist for the axis powers in wwii. while in real life the creators of the bacilli bombs weren’t prosecuted as war criminals despite japan frequently using chemical weapons, dr ito’s so-called execution takes place well within the timeline of the real life IMTFE/the tokyo war crimes tribunal and it’s very likely that he was less executed and more declared dead after secretly fleeing the country (hence his current residence being blue valley’s sewers). while in the comics his ultimate goal is to became the emperor of japan and subsequently take over the world, the facts of the case haven’t changed when they’ve been adapted for stargirl

that’s one of the reasons i tend to be pretty baffled when i see any fandom affection or “”soft””” headcanons directed at dr ito considering surely it’d be obvious how outright stupid that is if he’d been outright called, say, a nazi scientist. that’s another discussion though! what i mean by all this is that dr ito isn’t in any way, shape or form a man who believes or is invested in jordan’s dream. as a matter of fact, i think it’s pretty clear he’s got his own power play within the isa

he’s not well-liked (for the obvious reasons above and the lizard-ness) within the gang and it’s obvious that he spends the majority of his time doing his own experiments in the basement with the drones/zombies/whatever you wanna call them. i think his plan for the machine was a genuine mind-control thing that he needed henry for and his own endgame isn’t remotely similar to the rest of the isa’s. that being said, he clearly holds henry in some regard (fellow evil doctor?) going by the letter he sent him about hank & the fact that he doesn’t address him as anything other than “dr king”. my personal headcanon is that he actually talked his way into the isa by offering a palpable method (the machine) of achieving the so-called “dream” and his goals are much more aligned with henry’s. it’s equally likely that it’s henry who insisted on dr ito joining up in a rare show of leadership, especially if jordan & co aren’t actually aware of his history

dr ito, like everyone else, doesn’t appear to respect jordan as much as he simply keeps him at arm’s length -- as he does with everyone else who isn’t henry, at any rate. jordan falters on the stairs in episode 4 when he sees dr ito in the meeting room! he’s distinctly and visibly tense! it feels less like a talk between teammates and more like begrudging allies, with an implied possibility of backstabbing at every turn (”i won’t betray you, like the shade”, “i won’t fail, like the wizard” etc etc. are suspiciously specific denials!). sure, dr ito says he believes in the injustice society but i think the emphasis there is on injustice and his goals that have changed very little since the war. if nothing else, he simply believes in an exceedingly long con

AS FOR THE WIZARD. i think he & jordan were actually friendly and somewhat united in their goals. we’ve got the following neil interview:

where he calls william jordan’s friend, despite also saying in the stargirl after hours podcast that jordan has “zero friends” (and which i assume to mean that there’s no one left after wizard). they’ve clearly got a somewhat close relationship considering jordan left william in charge in his absence (a possible reference to wizard being the leader of the original comics isa but no doubt a testament to their similar povs as well), he doesn’t shy away from calling him literally four times in a row and william does sincerely seem to be the only person in the world to respect jordan to some degree. he’s certainly the opposite of dr ito in that he’s aligned with jordan’s general idea of helping people rather than what the plan turns into after henry takes over. the problem, however, is that jordan very evidently lost his trust in william somewhere along the line

now, i’ve seen a couple posts around here claiming that jordan could’ve just gone into politics (which shows a fundamental misunderstanding of his character and, again, a different discussion for another day) but we know for a fact that he distrusts and dislikes politicians. that’s precisely the rift between him and william! jordan is fighting for real actual change, for a genuine & humanising way to help people and that’s near impossible to be done through politics. regardless of how much william would’ve been able to do through his job, the fact of the matter is that there would always be compromises & corruption. despite william believing in jordan’s plan, it’s jordan (for once!) who can’t reconcile his dreams with william’s actions

beyond that, promises are everything to jordan because he’s spent the past decade tied to the promise he made christine and he’d never even dream of breaking that. the perceived betrayal of an unkept promise (to take care of the isa? of henry?) is unbearable to him. no matter how much he might like william, the measures he takes seem necessary in the moment precisely because of all this

so, ultimately, i think the isa are well aware of the dynamics between henry & jordan and they’ve more or less split between them in accordance with their personal goals. i really do wish we could’ve seen henry’s cut speech too though!

EXCUSE THE ESSAY BUT I HOPE IT ANSWERED A COUPLE QUESTIONS & PLEASE LET ME KNOW UR THOUGHTS!!! THANK U AGAIN!!!!!

[senadimell]

DW: The Monster in the Closet

I realized while looking at a Girl in the Fireplace analysis that when Moffat involves a child in an episode, he chooses a particular set of tropes. It’s no secret he has favorite types of stories; this one I’ll call “The Monster in the Closet.” Moffat came onto Doctor Who writing Monster in the Closet stories; in fact, take a look at his first 6 stories: The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances, the Girl in the Fireplace, Blink, Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead, The Eleventh Hour, and The Beast Below. With the exception of Blink, they all fall into this category. Why? More on that below, after we look at what the episodes share.

I’m including Night Terrors in this analysis because it’s so fitting: it’s literally about a monster and a closet. It’s actually written by Gatiss, but copies many of the same tropes and subverts the ending. I’m not including Listen, because I honestly don’t remember it well enough to analyze and don’t care for a re-watch just yet. Plus, I think Moffat was trying to branch out by that point.

Here’s what’s in a standard Moffat Monster in the Closet episode. 

The Child

Fake Faces

Repetition is Creepy

The Doctor’s Reputation

The Bad Guy isn’t evil, just fulfilling its nature

The child (or perceived child) is isolated from the adults in their life who should protect them but don’t realize the monsters are real. The Doctor steps in to validate them and solve figure out how to tackle their monster, who is real.

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Nancy (Jamie and the kids Nancy looks after are also contestants here.)

The Girl in the Fireplace: Reinette

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead: Cal

The Eleventh Hour: Amelia Pond

The Beast Below: Mandy (Timmy is also a contestant)

Night Terrors: George

Fake faces indicate something uncanny is occurring. The two-faced nature of the monsters suggests that the monster is not what we think it is.

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances

The Girl in the Fireplace

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead

The Beast Below: (Liz 10 also has a mask and initially comes off as sinister, and is revealed to be part of the problem by choosing ignorance)

This is a bit of a stretch, but here’s the face-changing Prisoner Zero from the Eleventh Hour: 

It’s worth noting that the Doctor had his own face change in this episode, so we’re waiting to see if he’s the genuine article or if he’s more like the monsters. 

Night Terrors. Doesn’t get creepier than this.

Repetition is creepy. This doesn’t really serve a narrative purpose beyond being creepy, other than perhaps to indicate the monster has a goal that we do not understand. When we do, we can solve the problem. This kind of reminds me of when a kid is trying to get their parent’s attention, but they’re on the phone and don’t really hear.  I find that just like fake faces, the more often this is used, the more banal I find it. 

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Creepiest thing ever

The Girl in the Fireplace: What is that mysterious ticking noise?

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead: (so much repetition here that any episode after it that uses repetition feels like overkill to me)

The Eleventh Hour:

The Beast Below does something a little different. It goes for a creepy nursery rhyme instead: 

GIRL: A horse and a man, above, below. One has a plan, but both must go. Mile after mile, above, beneath. One has a smile, and one has teeth. GIRL: Though the man above might say hello, expect no love from the beast below.

Night Terrors:

DOCTOR: George! George, what's going on? Are you doing it? ALEX: What's happening? GEORGE: Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. DOCTOR: George, no! GEORGE: Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. ALEX: Help me, Doctor! GEORGE: Please save me from the monsters. DOCTOR: George, no! (The Doctor is dragged back into the cupboard.) GEORGE: Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. Please save me from the monsters. (Alex is dragged into the cupboard.) ALEX: No! (And the door slams shut. Peace reigns again.)

Line about Doctor’s reputation scaring off the bad guys: The Doctor acts as a parental figure, but instead of dismissing the childish fear of the monsters, he validates and vanquishes. He fulfills a parental role, though, and just as parents scare away monsters by virtue of being an adult, the Doctor scares away monsters just by being the Doctor. 

*The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Saving this one for last. 

The Girl in the Fireplace: 

DOCTOR: Even monsters from under the bed have nightmares, don't you, monster? YOUNG REINETTE: What do monsters have nightmares about? DOCTOR: Me!

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead:

VASTA NERADA: These are our forests. They are our meat. DOCTOR: Don't play games with me. You just killed someone I liked. That is not a safe place to stand. I'm the Doctor, and you're in the biggest library in the universe. Look me up. (The Vasta Nerada desists and gives him a day to evacuate the library)

The Eleventh Hour:

DOCTOR: Okay. One more. Just one. Is this world protected? Because you're not the first lot to come here. Oh, there have been so many. (The projection shows the Daleks et al.) DOCTOR: And what you've got to ask is, what happened to them? (A run through of all the previous Doctors, then this Doctor steps through the projection with a jacket and bow tie.) DOCTOR: Hello. I'm the Doctor. Basically, run. 

The Beast Below: 

This one breaks the mold a bit: It’s Liz 10 who does all of the “fear my reputation lines” and pulls almost the same line as the Doctor in 11th hour (I'm the bloody Queen, mate. Basically, I rule). What ties this to other Monster in the Closet episodes is that problem’s solution comes from realizing how amazing the Doctor is, and applying that logic to our misunderstood Starwhale. Since it doesn’t need to be scared away like our past few monsters, we get this instead: 

AMY: The Star Whale didn't come like a miracle all those years ago. It volunteered. You didn't have to trap it or torture it. That was all just you. It came because it couldn't stand to watch your children cry. What if you were really old, and really kind and alone? Your whole race dead. No future. What couldn't you do then? If you were that old, and that kind, and the very last of your kind, you couldn't just stand there and watch children cry.

AMY: Amazing though, don't you think? The Star Whale. All that pain and misery and loneliness, and it just made it kind. DOCTOR: But you couldn't have known how it would react. AMY: You couldn't. But I've seen it before. Very old and very kind, and the very, very last. Sound a bit familiar? 

Night Terrors: 

Again, the formula’s changing. Here, the Doctor’s title declaration triggers the monster and makes the scary stuff happen rather than the other way ‘round because the resolution is reconciliation between parent and child. If the Doctor were to be the substitute parental figure, he would interfere with that reconciliation.

GEORGE [memory]: Who are you? DOCTOR [memory]: I'm the Doctor. GEORGE [memory]: A doctor? Have you come to take me away? Away. Away. Away. DOCTOR: That's what did it. That's what the trigger was. He thought you were rejecting him. He thought he wasn't wanted, that someone was going to come and take him away. 

(It should be noted that there’s still a title declaration where the Doctor assumes that people should know and respect his title, even though they have no logical reason to: 

DOCTOR: I'm not just a professional. I'm the Doctor. ALEX: What's that supposed to mean? DOCTOR: It means I've come a long way to get here, Alex. A very long way. George sent a message. A distress call, if you like. Whatever's inside that cupboard is so terrible, so powerful, that it amplified the fears of an ordinary little boy across all the barriers of time and space. )

So that brings me back to The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances. One of my huge Doctor Who pet peeves is the Doctor’s growing hubris. I could manage it in seasons 2-4 because everybody and their dog was calling the Doctor out when he went too far, but it just kind of stopped in season 5 and the Doctor threw out more and more lines about how great or scary he was.

What I love about Nine is that he’s humble. What? you ask. The man who told us “I am so impressive!” is the most humble? Yes. Despite his “devil may care” blustering, Nine carries a huge burden of guilt and he constantly questions whether or not he has the authority to make big decisions when lives are at stake. It’s no coincidence that Harriet Jones pulls the “I’m the only elected official” card in World War Three to tell the Doctor to save the world even if she and Rose might die, or that when the Doctor acts unilaterally to let the Gelth posses corpses in The Unquiet Dead, he’s wrong, or that his actions to free the human race from the brainwashing news just leads to societal collapse and allows the Daleks a place to lie in wait, or that he’s spared from deciding Blon’s fate in Boomtown by the TARDIS. It all leads to his decision in front of the Daleks: Coward or killer? Do I have the right to decide who lives and dies? His answer is no, I don’t (then Rose saves the day). 

In keeping with his personality, it would be totally out of character for him to boast of his reputation to scare away the monsters. Instead, we get this beautiful inversion of the Monster in the Closet Doctor/Parent figure scaring away the monsters by virtue of title: 

DOCTOR: Amazing.

NANCY: What is?

DOCTOR: 1941. Right now, not very far from here, the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like dominoes. Nothing can stop it. Nothing. Until one, tiny, damp little island says no. No. Not here. A mouse in front of a lion. You're amazing, the lot of you. Don't know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me. Off you go then do what you've got to do. Save the world.

Instead of an “I’m the Doctor! Monsters are scared of me!” line, we get the Doctor saying ‘the monsters are scared of you.’ Then, he says he himself is frightened of humans. That’s an odd thing to say, since Nine doesn’t act frightened of humans and seems to just love them, until you consider the thematic implications. Who’s scared of the humans? The monsters. 

The Doctor from ‘Dalek’ is calling.

The Doctor considers himself to be one of the monsters, even if he’s trying to atone for his past. He’s desperately avoiding whatever reputation’s left after the Time War and doesn’t pull that card until he’s facing a Dalek army. I am so so so grateful we got this line, instead of a line about how great the Doctor is.

The bad guy is not actually malicious, just following its nature: The monster is always something real here, but it’s never properly evil. I do like a good “the aliens just have different needs than humans” plot. That said, it can get predictable when you know there’s going to be a twist coming. I like the twists less and less as the episodes go on.

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: The monster is the child! Sort of: the good-at-healing but bad-at-AI nanogenes made Jamie and everyone else a monster since they didn’t know what they were going for as they repaired the humans. 

The Girl in the Fireplace: Arguably the most sinister on this list, the droids aren’t malicious, just trying to repair their ship with re-purposed body parts because they broke down. Not evil, just following incomplete AI instructions like our Nanogenes. This was the only thing I liked in this episode. At least the monsters had a reason they were obsessed with Reinette, unlike the stalker-y actions the Doctor took that were supposed to be 100% okay, even though he criticized the Robots for doing that? 

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead: The Vasta Nerada are creepy and eat people, but it’s just because their forest was pulped and they came here in the books! They just want to be left in peace to hunt like normal predators. 

The Eleventh Hour: This one doesn’t fit quite so neatly. However, it should be noted that the primary danger in the episode doesn’t come from the bad guy, Prisoner Zero, but the cops looking for him who are willing to boil the earth. They’re not evil, just callous and need to be reminded of proper boundaries.

The Beast Below: The weird scorpion stingers are just the Starwhale! It loves children. It doesn’t even care about being tortured for centuries and will keep driving everyone through space. 

Night Terrors: George is monster! That is, he’s the one causing the creepy stuff to happen because he’s an alien who stressed out about the parents he brainwashed abandoning him. I guess that’s sci fi for you?

With the exception of Blink, all of the monsters are shown as innocent, if dangerous. They just need to put their energy in a different direction. It’s not until Victory of the Daleks that Moffat breaks the mold. Why? The punchline of “Monster in the Closet” stories is that the monsters are real and scary, but not evil, just following their nature. Daleks fall into the “these are actual bad guys” category, not the misunderstood monster. (Which is kinda funny, because it’s been established that Daleks are genetically engineered to kill and hate. They may be a Nazi analogue, but Nazis were people who chose evil. The Daleks are bred to hate and exterminate--note what happens to the “impure” dalek in Dalek and Evolution of the Daleks: they don’t kill people, and then they die.) 

My biggest beef with these episodes that they’re all relatively close together, so it’s easy to notice the overlap. When Moffat uses almost the exact same line in one episode as in the previous episode, I notice. When he uses the same mask design, I notice. When he has a constantly repeated line and does it again, I notice. Even before I waded into anti Moffat stuff, I noticed a shift at the end of season 4. I attributed it to a new cast since I just couldn’t click with anything. Then, I learned there was a new writer, and found out he had also written my least favorite episode of New Who (The Girl in the Fireplace). 

After writing this, I can’t help but parrot what I’ve heard elsewhere: Moffat’s trying to write a fairytale. A lot of the people and dangers feel more like archetypes than people, and the dialogue is witty but often unnatural--nobody goes around bantering like that all the time. The villains are identified by their form just as much as what they intend to do. There’s also this weird idolization of childhood and the innocent child. I don’t like it much. I’m more of the Coraline, Witches of Worm, Egyptian Game, and Wrinkle in Time mold, where the kids are just as realized and human as their adult counterparts and can lack empathy and be as creepy as adults. Alternatively, I’ll take Shannon Hale’s fairy-tale retellings where the bad guys are people and the solution involves personal courage and collaborative effort. (Moffat can keep his Day of the Doctor maypole children, and I will keep Chloe the scribbler, even if her episode was a little off).

My rating for these episodes, from least to most favorite: 

The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances: Love Christopher Eccleston’s performance and was very creeped out by the child monsters. The solution to the problem was implied but not obvious so I didn’t get it until I was supposed to. I didn’t enjoy the introduction of a love triangle or the constant innuendo, but at least it was gone in an episode. Also, I will never not fangirl over “Everybody Lives!” and its significance to Nine. 

Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead: Thoroughly enjoyed these episodes, though I do have things to quibble with (wish Lee was black like Donna’s other romantic interests--she’s got a type and it’s not “gorgeous and can’t speak a word,” among other critical things). Overall,  a great episode

The Eleventh Hour, which I enjoyed, but makes me feel weirder and weirder the more I watch it between child/adult Amy, handcuffs and porn references, and the annoying “prisoner zero has escaped” mantra, plus “I’m the doctor! The earth is protected! I also didn’t like the repeat of comatose people sitting up and saying things. It was good the first time, not so much the second. Funny, but also uncomfortably awkward and creepy, and not in the “are you my mummy” way. 

The Beast Below, which felt like it was recycled from earlier tropes to me. Maybe if Liz 10 wouldn’t have had the GitF porcelain mask, I wouldn’t be as tempted to compare it to other Monster in the Closet episodes. Overall, just meh.

The Girl in the Fireplace, which rubs me wrong in every way, except for the droids cannibalizing crew to save the ship--what does that say about me and the episode? I will not rewatch this episode willingly.

[smash-64]

Ok so I typed up a super long review of Starlink: Battle for Atlas, and I spared nothing in what you might call a scathing review. It’s below the cut, but if you’d like the TL;DR part, I’d summarize it as follows:

The Starfox stuff is fun, but the rest isn’t. 5/10

Starlink Battle for Atlas review

Being a huge fan of Starfox, I’ve had my eye on this game for a very long time. However, the whole “toys as games” thing was a huge turnoff, coupled with the fact that apparently even getting the physical version meant you needed to devote 15GB of storage space to the game, which makes no sense to me. 

Anyway, I watched the reception closely, and it was pretty lukewarm, at best. People generally had very little to say about the game, so I only ever occasionally looked into whether it was on sale or not. Luckily for me, I got my hands on a 400GB microSD card for my Switch at the same time that the digital version went on super sale at 70% off, so I decided the time was right to try it out.

The Good

The Starfox team is at their graphical best in this game, by far. They looked great in Starfox Zero, but they look exactly how I pictured they would in my most fantastical dreams from when I was little. They all move smoothly, have perfect fur and feathers, emotive expressions, and they just fit so well with all the other characters in Starlink. There is a wide variety of allies and NPCs in this game, and they all have just as wide a variety of races and species. One guy looks like he should be a grass type Pokemon. I really think the character design is fantastic in this game. The fact that the entire inclusion of Starfox was an afterthought, yet they all fit in so perfectly is really a huge victory for Starlink. 

In addition to how they look, the Starfox team also sounds great. They got the original voice actors back for Fox and Slippy (and I do mean the originals from Nintendo 64!), and the rest of the squad, plus Wolf, came back from the 2011 remaster of Starfox 64 for the 3DS. That game was a great remaster, and the voice work was phenomenal. The characters and their personalities all shine through just as you expect them. They banter slightly less than on the N64, but part of that might just be because sound bytes were at a premium on that system, so they had to pick and choose what lines to include more carefully. So, I don’t think you can really count that against Starlink, which is a game that can include just about as many lines of dialogue as it wants. Fox, for one, has a TON of dialogue and I loved every bit of it. I kind of wish I lived in the Seattle area so I could hear Mike West’s radio show (and hear Fox’s voice all the time), which is how Nintendo discovered him for the original voice of Fox McCloud way back in 1997. Another great piece of work here.

In what very well might have been the source of the “Star Fox Grand Prix” fake leak a few years ago, there is a planet called the Crimson Moon where you can take part in what is essentially pod racing with your Arwing. Now, I really did not enjoy the pod race scene of Star Wars Episode I, and aside from Mario Kart 64, I really don’t find racing games very rewarding. However, these racing levels are actually pretty fun. There are hidden shortcuts you can take, plenty of obstacles, and the computer racers are actually fairly difficult. I honestly found myself getting really into these races. The only downside is, there aren’t very many of them. They’re also kind of long, which is no problem for a veteran of N64���s Rainbow Road, but I was a bit surprised at the length of some of the courses.

The Meh

The music, which I have come to believe might be the element of games that really determines whether I just like a game, or love it, is fairly generic. It sounds like your average Marvel movie soundtrack, except without any real bangers. The Corneria remix is too short and not often played, and the Star Wolf theme is the same deal. That’s just about it for Starfox music, and the rest of it is just so generic that I can’t even comment any further. A real letdown for me, although it doesn’t particularly take away from the game or produce any grating tracks.

The difficulty was a mixed bag as well. I played about 70% of the game on Hard mode because I’m very experienced with Ace Combat and Starfox games, so I thought I’d be fine with the air/space combat. But, the difficulty slider didn’t really make the game more difficult, it just made it take a lot longer. I guess that could be seen as a good thing for people who get upset about dying really quickly on harder difficulties, but it felt like a way to cheat at padding the game’s playtime. I ended up lowering the difficulty just so I could finish faster.

The Starlink characters are a really big missed opportunity. They all have very distinct personalities, but I was shocked at how little content actually featured them. They each have a backstory cutscene that highlights them, but those scenes are so short that it’s more of a 30 second elevator pitch than anything else. None of the characters have more than a sentence or two to comment about said cutscenes, and none of them ever show any growth. Even the “main” character of Mason is basically the same by the end of the game. Although, I do think their designs are excellent and their personalities stand out from one another well enough.

The Bad

Spoilers ahead for the next three paragraphs! The story itself is pretty crappy. I’m still not really sure what was going on or why the Equinox (the main ship) was where it was. In more than one of the character-specific backstory cutscenes I already mentioned, they talk about Earth. So, ok, we understand that almost everyone on the Equinox is human, that’s fine. But...how exactly did they get here and why do they want to recapture the solar system of Atlas? As you play, you essentially claim territory in the name of Atlas, but it’s not clear at all who that exactly is. Does that mean the Equinox is in charge? Is there a government somewhere? Military affiliations or alliances? Because plenty of territory seems to be independent, in addition to enemy-controlled territory. Maybe there was a single line of dialogue I missed somewhere.

But, ok, we just want to fly spaceships and shoot stuff, who cares about politics! Well, there are still issues with the story because I honestly could scarcely care less about any of the plot in this game, which makes it tough to get into any of the battles or things at stake. The entire Starlink team was so unimportant that I literally never used ANY of them even one time, and the game never encouraged me too, either. Maybe I’ve been spoiled by the unparalleled writing and character development of the Kiseki series of JRPGs, or maybe I just really don’t like the storytelling methods and style of western RPGs, but I feel like the story should make you WANT to learn more about characters. Instead, I was just constantly asking questions like “Why does any of this matter?” 

Now, that would be a totally unimportant question if the game was all about space battles and explosions and pew pews, but it pretends to have this really deep, engrossing story with characters wracked over the (spoiler!) kidnapping and death of their leader and captain. We barely even get to know who this dude is before he’s kidnapped, and then the rest of the story is so bare-bones that most of what we’re “supposed” to be feeling has to be completely assumed under the guise of “Well, I guess he was the captain so we’re supposed to feel bad, right?” He did apparently act like a father figure for many of the Starlink pilots, but we are only briefly told that in those previously mentioned 30 second elevator pitches. We never actually see it.

Ok spoilers done, but I’m not. The enemies that you fight in this game are also horribly boring and repetitive. We get about 10 enemies in total throughout the entire game, and most of those only have very slight variations. They try to spice it up a bit by adding in “elements,” but about 70% of what I fought ended up always being the fire type anyway. Sure, we get five or so “boss” type enemies, but they’re not particularly special, either. Most of these enemies are copy-pasted all over the planets you visit to give the impression of a planet full of activity, but really it’s just the same things over and over. 

The real issue here is how the Big Bad, a bird guy named Grax, is supposed to be really feared but we only get like two cutscenes about him. His army is completely faceless. It’s really shocking that we got significantly more development from the Star Wolf team almost 25 years ago on the Nintendo 64, and all of that was delivered in five second one-liners spread through only a couple levels! 

All I’m going to say about the “toys as games” thing is that it’s stupid and clunky and should never be used, especially the way they make you mount the ship onto your controller. What an absolutely idiotic method. I can understand having a portal like they did with Skylanders. Still not a fan, but you can toss something onto it and it doesn’t weigh down your controller. If it was required to play, I would have never even tried this game.

Gameplay is supposed to be the real winning point here, with an honestly unbelievable amount of content available for each planet you visit. I think there were six or seven planets you could visit, so there was actually a ton to do. But I can’t imagine beating my head against the wall so many times on each planet to complete any of it. If you really enjoy grinding, monotonous, pointless gameplay, then by all means, try this game.

Conclusion

I mean, if you like Starfox, I think you’ll have at least some fun with it. The Starfox levels are fun, and it feels like legitimate Starfox content. It also shows that Starfox could branch out into something different, but I’m not sure I’d be a big fan of it going such a repetitive route with regards to gameplay. If a game like this were fully devoted to a Starfox story, and not just including Starfox as an afterthought, then I do think it could be a good game. But as it stands, Starlink: Battle for Atlas is an example of something that looks and sounds great, but revels in gameplay mediocrity and fails at story-telling. 5/10. If there was no Starfox content, it’s honestly a 3/10.

[inkdrinkershadowsinger]

Thoughts/ Background The Deathly Hallows Part Two

The introduction music is so haunting. The castle in all its glory is haunted by dementors and fog. Snape is solitary. Everything is singular and empty on the grounds. The only color we see at Hogwarts during this time is during the final battle when McGonagall pushes Harry out of the way, and we see that flash of fire from her wand. That’s when you know stuff is about to kick off.

Griphook sounds so lost as to why Harry would bury Dobby. The divide between creatures and wizards, between goblins and wizards has gotten so great that neither side even thinks to assume that the other possesses even the smallest hint of kindness or humility. This is a fic all in itself.

What are the goblins stake in the sword? What is with the mention of the tiara in the books? I feel like Rowling had more to say about this topic, but for some reason she didn’t.

I hate that Fleur seems to be so meek in this movie. I want her to be this badass fighter chick, the kind of person who the Goblet of Fire would chose once again to play one of the most challenging games ever, the kind of person who would leave her country and family for an amazing opportunity and adventure, but her character wasn’t given much time or space to be free to show itself in that manner.

Wandlore is super fascinating. Is there a book about wandlore? Like a companion book like Quidditch Through the Ages? I feel like there should be.

It looks like that is a quilt patch behind Harry’s head. It would have been a gift from Mrs. Weasley.

It always bothered me that Luna was just like, “Yeah, I’m going back to school.” They just locked her butt up in the dungeons, and then she decides to go back to a school where the people who locked her up are currently in power and could torture her for information about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the person she literally just escaped with. I think, that’s why this scene was cut from the final cut of the basic DVD versions.

Ron is so quick here to be like, “They suspect us. They suspect us.” But the silence doesn’t go on for that long. It feels like someone with such an iron gut gets antsy really quickly, and not antsy like sweating a bit, but antsy like he’s about to start crying. It just seems weird. One of the basic security measures to the bank might be that they have like a gas that leaks through that makes people feel paranoid or something like that. You want to get 200 galleons out, but what happens if you get robbed on the way out the door? Better to only get 100, thus keeping money in the bank under the goblins eyes. It would help keep out thieves as well, petty and otherwise.

None of the other goblins think that something is off with the behavior of this one goblin who seems to be in a positon of authority?

Goblins are keyed into the various vaults? Which means that they could seal them at any time as well, right? Is this in the books?

Hermione, baby, your Gryffindor is showing, and it is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lol

Those goblins are like, “Assume the fire breathing position.”

You can see how deep down they are. And I know this isn’t real, but to think that that dragon would have only had that small opening of real light shining down on it all that time is truly depressing.

Litearlly, they all deserve to bite it after what that dragon was put through.

“And he’s homicidal.”

“We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.” I feel that.

I always assumed that Voldemort when to Gringotts and killed the goblins. But no, he summoned them to Malfoy Manor, and then killed them. Why would he do it like that?

That mirror is rectangular, but I always envisioned the mirrors as being circular.

Why does Aberforth tell them that the Order is finished? He knows that it isn’t. This whole speech of his is very demoralizing. But Harry dgaf…..

This, “I trusted the man I knew” attitude is why Harry named one of his children Albus Severus.

Hermione is the one who asks questions of Aberforth, and yet, he directly responds to Harry. I always thought that was odd.

And Aberforth has been helping them the whole time? Then why the speech?

Neville badass Longbottom.

Another nod to the books.

I wanted some more information about what was going on in Hogwarts while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. I wanted to hear more about what Dumbledore’s Army were getting up to while the others were hunting horcruxes. There were tasters of it in the book, but I would have loved to have had more of it tbh.

Fact: Neville’s plant from five is the mascot for the Hogwart’s resistance.

“She gots lost of those, hasn’t she?” This line from Seamus at the very beginning of this movie just made it so perfect. This movie is a gosh dang masterpiece.

Snape had such a hard job. I mean, I know people hate on Snape, and I can understand their reasoning, but I have a soft spot for the man. Maybe I read too much fanfiction because fanfic!Snape and canon!Snape are two very different individuals.

Harry’s name among these students is the stuff of legend. The way they all look around and start talking carries that spark of hope that good rumors sometimes have.

Harry, “Perfect timing group.”

People back up when Harry faces Snape. People move the hell out of dodge when McGonagall draws her wand.

Snape takes out the two Carrows behind him before he apparates out of the school.

Padma gets zero dances at the Yule Ball, and then Voldemort invades her mind. Great.

Pansy, my darling, there is a time to speak and there is a time to stay silent. Read the room.

Filch, ditto.

Why do all of the magical, “evil” Slytherins allow Filch, a squib, to lock them up?

Even the portraits are getting out of there.

All the kids in the background are completely flummoxed.

“Boom!”

Say that five times fast. No, say it once without messing up and you get to be bff’s with Maggie Smith.

This spell is sick, this music is sick, McGonagall is a queen. When I saw this in theater, my skin got goose pimples. “Do your duty for our school!” It is just so amazing, and iconic. This whole scene makes me feel so empowered, and pumped like I’m about to head into battle, like I’m about to defend my home and my life.

My thoughts on the diadem and the other founders objects can be found in a post that I made. My thoughts are strong, and though they aren’t canon, they are still unspoken canon.

Voldemort is like, “I was about to monologue. Why you speaking to me?”

“You okay, Freddie?” Don’t come at me like that, writers.

We all died laughing in the theater when Ron said that. “Harry talks in his sleep.” Harry only speaking parseltongue when around snakes theory is still enforced when you think about the snake Pettigrew sneaking around the whole time.

Exactly why the fuck does Remus need Tonks more than her small child? I never understood this line, and I never liked them as a couple. Thought the book version was creepy, and the movie version unrealized.

Some movies really don’t need to be split into two for the ending *Divergent trilogy* but this one really benefitted from having two films. I wouldn’t want this huge battle scene and character plot and humor to be lost.

No one thinks to cast a spell to catch Neville??? This is like the first flying lesson all over again.

Go, Mr. Weasley, you are on fire.

Kingsley, whip their arses with that fancy shit. LET’S GO!!!!!!

Harry reached out to Ginny first. This movie is so lacking in any real chemistry between these two actors and characters that it is almost painful. This is one instance, that I never noticed before, that makes all of their other interactions less cringey to watch.

Neville almost died on that bridge. He might as well tell Luna how he feels. I love this and can fully ship canon book couples with canon movie couples at the same time. Thank you very much.

That kiss between them is so weird. I just can’t.

Hermione in this scene is proof that men rattle your brain with smooches. Lol

So, if you are using the room of requirement for something, and someone who already has been in that same room, and wants it for the same reason that you do, they can get in as well? But not if they want it for the same reason, which is why Umbridge couldn’t be get it in Order of the Phoenix.”

There are so many Easter eggs in this scene in the ROR. You can see a chess piece from 1, pixies from 2. It just enforces my headcanon that the house elves use the ROR as a sort of dumping ground for the random stuff that they find at the school.

Harry is so gosh dang blasé about seeing Draco again. He’s just like, “What’s up, dude?” He is not concerned in the slightest that he has three wands pointed at him right now. They are just causally chatting about whose wand each other has got.

The statue of the pig right behind Harry and Hermione. It would make sense Voldemort would try to totally remake Hogwarts, and I think that would go into removing those odd little things that make the castle a bit quirky. The castle looks bleak and unnaturally bland compared to the other movies. It would make sense that he would want statues of hogs also taken out.

You see the lanterns that Slughorn had at his Christmas party.

Why is the fire morphing into different animals? The phoenix attacks Draco, Blaise, and Goyle, the tiger chases Ron and Hermione, and then the snake goes after Harry. And then they all converge on the trio? Why make it animals? Is there any significance to this? I never noticed that they were actually animals before.

Finding the brooms perfect. Saving them perfect. Killing the horcrux then kicking it into the flames. Perfect.

The music while the trio are fighting to get to boat house is so haunting and lovely and it’s like it calls to every nostalgic atom in your body.

Really, death eater, you’ve got time to stop and cast the cruciatus on someone in the middle of this warzone?

I love that Hermione was the one to blast Fenrir away from Lavender. So touching.

Aberforth, Mr. IT IS ALL GOING TO END HORRIBLY WHY EVEN TRY, has enough hope and good memories to cast away that many dementors. Yeah, he’s fake.

Voldemort just doesn’t like that Snape is taller than him.

I just wanted a touch of the friendship that was expressed between Lily and Snape in the book. Harry understood it, and said it perfectly at the end of book seven. I wanted some of that to translate to screen. It wasn’t just because Snape had some weird crush on her it was because they were friends, best friends. Ron and Harry and Hermione friendship. The next time someone comes at me with that bull I’m just going to refer them back to the facts.

This is probably the first time that Snape had ever been allowed to really look at Harry as a person rather than someone who is supposed to hate him. It is the first time that he could be unguarded around him.

Snape hired more healers. Why else would they be there? He knew that with the group in charge that as in power, that they would be needed.

I can’t stand this barrage of lost souls. It is painful, and I get flashbacks from when I read the book for the first time, and the pages were covered in my tears.

It doesn’t look like Snape even has anything in this office. It looks barren. He knew he had no time to get comfortable in his position.

That tree is beautiful.

I love their friendship. I will always love their friendship.

Look at Snape and all those books. Lily and Snape, the studious, top of their year duo with the Marauders who eschew libraries but still manage to succeed. I don’t need to think hard to imagine the rivalry. In fact, I did imagine it, and wrote some down in the thing, message me if you would like part of the thing.

Hermione knew, or at least, strongly suspected that Harry was going to have to do what he sets off to accomplish, for sure.

I love that when Harry walked into the forest to face down death that he had these people, these guardians, these people who at one point or another swore to protect this boy with everything that they have get to be the ones that are with him at the end just like at the beginning. Things are different for them, and different from how they thought it would be when Harry was born into this world, but they still kept their promise.

“Does it hurt?” This is something that a child asks. We forget that Harry, here, is only supposed to be 17 years old, that’s a kid. Added to that, you have the very real

“We’re here, you see?” Perfect.

“Stay close to me?” “Always.”

My thoughts mean nothing in the perfection of this scene.

Hagrid is still looking out for Harry’s best interest. He is the only adult worth a flip in more than half of these films.

“The boy who lived come to die.”

I know Dumbledore is like, “The man” here, and the mentor or whatever, but I would have really have liked to have the person who met Harry at Kings Cross had been Snape especially after harry had just learned the truth. Way more dynamic.

Narcissa straight up lied to the most dangerous wizard ever. She deserved that pardon for her family. All she wanted was out, and to take care of her son, and I respect that. Don’t give a dang for the rest of the world when they would gladly let you burn. Take care of number one even when number one is a group instead of a single entity.

You hear that noise when Neville picks up the hat, and if you read the books, you know what he just found. He was out there preparing and scouting for another battle, and Hogwarts rewarded him.

Hagrid carrying in Harry’s body was so painful to watch. Visually, there little death parade plus the music just puts you in this anxious state. Pinpricks.

The acting by Bonnie Wright here is superb. The lack of chemistry is not equally weighted on her shoulders.

Luna looks at Draco like she is sick. Then like she is sad. I hate it. She was wishing for something else there for sure.

The way Dean Thomas looks at Voldemort in this scene is the way that I feel about that weird af hug.

Voldemort has to restrain himself from killing Neville on the spot for interrupting him.

Neville has never in the course of these movies failed to speak when needed. He stood up to the trio in 1, and he spoke up against Seamus and nearly everyone else in the common room in Ootp. Neville stands up for what is right.

All of those death eaters are like, “Fuck! This boy came back to life again? What are the Dark Lord’s AK’s broken? Nevermind, fuck this shit, I’m out.”

That music when Neville regains consciousness. YES!

See, if Voldemort didn’t play with his food, he might have won.

NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!!!! When I say people cheered and screamed in the theater when Molly said and did this epic shit I ain’t kidding. IT WAS AND STILL IS ONE OF THE MOST ICONIC HP QUOTES OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF THE BEST, MOST EMPOWERING QUOTES!!!!!!! We all want Molly Weasley to have our backs like this.

The whole ending of this movie is LEGENDARY!!!! I went to the midnight showing for the release of this movie with a bunch of other diehards, and seeing Neville cut the head off of the snake, and watching Harry finally beat Voldemort with the elder wand. I mean, we were literally just in such a state of excitement and yes and hallelujah, it was insane.

Neville and Luna. I see y’all.

Percy is talking to Arthur, reconciling.

That guy behind Cho is definitely about to shoot his shot with someone.

Filch, bless his heart.

Ron and Hermione. Harry knows. Harry blesses this union. Harry has been the number one ship captain this whole time, and now he is rewarded.

I like that Harry snapped the wand in the movie. See, if book Harry had snapped the wand, the Cursed Child would have never graced our consciousness with its heteronormative agenda. Scorbus is life. Fight me.

This series has had such a serious impact on me. I love it. I spend hours upon hours inside of this universe every day as beloved fanfiction writers play inside of it’s territory. It made me a reader. It helped me when I wasn’t sure what was next for me in life. It gave me entertainment and enjoyment, and still does. I love it, and I hope that I always will. We cling to the thought of magic because we hope that it is really, we hope that like in this world where there is magic that cannot be easily be explained exists. We hope that in our world, too, there is that same kind of magic that can wrap itself around us.

I think that kind of magic is real. I just think that we have to look for it, remember it, talk about, cherish it, and spread it around for others who have forgotten to look for it themselves. And great literature, like this series, helps us to do that.

That is why it will be remembered for generations to come. At least, if I have anything to say about it.

[chicagocryptid]

'I WATCHED YOU WIN AN EATING CONTEST THEN THROW UP' THAT'S SO HORRIBLE I'M LAUGHING

County Fair // Maple x Chug

Warnings: None!

Summer in Nockfell was hot, but Maple and Ash would have braved hot coals every year to make it to the county fair. The week it was in town was always the most exciting for the entire gang, who all spent their allowance on tickets and fried oreos, but especially for the girls, who could get a free ride or two by winking at the operators, and who loved the excuse to beat the boys at every game they encountered along the dusty path.

It was just them that afternoon. Sal and Larry had been especially sore losers about a game of Balloon Darts, and had declined their invitation for a rematch, so Ash and Maple were walking arm in arm through the crowd, sharing a lemonade shake up and a handspun cotton candy the size of Maple's head. They were both windblown from the tilt-a-whirl, sweaty and a little smelly, but both of their faces hurt from smiling, and if you had asked either one of them, there would have been nowhere else they'd've preferred to be.

Maple groaned and pulled Ash to the side of the path so she could rub a blister forming under the strap of her flip flop. "I feel like we've already done everything," she said when she straightened up again. "We've done all the rides once and I promised myself I would wait to have a funnel cake until after we get dinner."

Ash hummed and tore a piece of cotton candy from the stick, popping it into her mouth. "We could try to break Larry's record on Zero Gravity?"

Maple's stomach lurched at the idea, and she leaned back against one of the makeshift buildings to hide her disgust. "Nah, if we did break it he'd say it was invalid 'cause he wasn't here. We'd just have to do it all over again."

"You're right," Ash sighed, joining Maple against the building. They were quiet for a stretch, watching people from all the over County pass them by. It was another reason they liked fair time so much; It was the only time Nockfell felt like a real town.

"Isn't there a show or something?" Maple asked, soothing closer to lean her head on Ash's bare shoulder. She could feel the heat that meant Ash would be calling her later to complain about not putting sunscreen on, though Maple had reminded her twice before they left. Ash craned her neck to try to get a view of one of the various events signs staked in front of booths and on corners.

"Looks like the only thing going on is an eating contest. It started at 2."

"What time is it now?"

Ash pulled her pager from her pocket and squinted to see it in the light. "2:04. I bet we can catch the end of it at least."

Maple shrugged off the wall and twisted her pinky finger around Ash's, pulling them back into the path. "Great, that means we'll get to see if anyone throws up."

To both of the girls' surprise, the eating contest seemed to be a hot commodity. Still, they were small enough to slip through the throng of people, and somehow, Maple figured out a way to get the two of them pressed against the platform. The sickly sweet smell of pie wafted over them, crusty and warm, and even though she was stuffed to the seams on fried foods, Maple's mouth watered. Most of the contestants were older, some in their twenties, some her dad's age, but there was one young boy second from the left she thought looked familiar.

Maple tapped Ash on the shoulder and gestured towards the boy, a round faced, green haired cherub, with his hat on backwards to keep the strays out of his eyes. "Do we know him?"

Ash used her free hand to shield her eyes against the sun. "Oh! We go to school with him. I think his name is... Chip? No. Ch... Chuck..." She rolled a few names around on her tongue, and then her face lit up. "Chug! That's it . I'm pretty sure he lives in the Apartments with the guys."

"Huh." Maple watched as he dove hands first into another pie, his fingers stained purple with blueberry ink. The pile next to him was smaller than the others, and she felt a little spark at the thought that he might win. Even Ash appeared to be interested, if her wide eyed gaze was any indication. He finished that pie, and then another, and then the crowd around them started to cheer louder. Maple realized Chug only had two pies left, and so she started to cheer too.

She hadn't been looking at anyone else's pile, but it must have been a close race, because as Chug took his last bite, a loud groan rippled through the audience. Chug had won, and although she hadn't meant to, Maple was screaming, jumping up and down on the hard dirt. Ash was right alongside her, caught up in the excitement. The judge came to Chug's side, lifted his hand above his head, and declared him the winner.

And then Chug's hair wasn't the only thing that was green. Maple must have been the only one who saw it, and it made her stop dead in her tracks. It flashed across his face for just a moment, and then Chug pushed back his chair, leaned over the side of the stage, and puked.

And puked.

And puked.

A rainbow of pie, every color imaginable. The crowd, in disgust, had begun to disappear, while the judge was standing behind Chug, looking horrified. A woman rushed on stage to rub the small of his back. When he regained his composure, only Ash and Maple remained.

"Should we go?" Ash asked, leaning close to Maple's ear and looking a little nauseous herself. But Maple's feet wouldn't let her move, although Chug was heading off the back of the stage into the other side of the fair.

"Uh..." His green head was threatening to disappear into the masses. "Why don't you grab us another lemonade and meet me at the Yo-yo?" She was already headed in Chug's direction, Ash calling after her.

"Okay, but you get the next one!"

She caught up with him a little ways away from the stage, in line for a shwarma stand. The woman, who Maple had assumed to be his mom, was no where in sight.

"Hey, Chug!" He turned, and looked rightfully surprised to see her moving in his direction. He had a chunk of thrown up pie on his t-shirt. She pretended not to notice.

"Maple, hi." He smiled when he saw her, kind of crooked and goofy. She liked it.

"I just uh... I just wanted to make sure you were..." The person in front of him stepped aside, and he moved into the window with two fingers up. "Are you really about to eat again?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He laughed a little."I wait all year for this truck. I'm not missing out."

"You literally just threw up 15 pies."

Chug blanched a little as he took his order. "You saw that huh?"

Maple flushed. "Unfortunately. I was actually trying to make sure you were feeling alright but... Well." She gestured at the paper boat in his hand. "Curried meat speaks for itself."

Chug laughed again, longer this time, and picked up one of the skewers. He held the other one out to Maple, and after a moment, she took it. Chug touched the end of their sticks together and made a clunking sound, and then took a bite.

"I see you around at school a lot, you know. I noticed your paintings at the art show last spring." Maple blushed again, busied herself with finding a good angle to bite her shwarma.

"They're okay."

"What?! They're amazing. I know Mrs. Doyle hung that one in the art room. I go in there to look at it sometimes." The sun shifted overhead, and Chug turned his hat forward. "You know sometimes they show off local work at The Bean. You should submit something."

Maple was so surprised that she nearly choked, and spent a good thirty seconds trying to dislodge the food in her throat. When she felt she could breathe again, she tried to wave him off. "Oh no. I'd be so intimated and I wouldn't even know what to paint..." Chug frowned, and then took another bite and lit up again.

"Why don't you come with me the next time they have one? Then you can see what you'd be up against." Maple heard her name cut through the air like a knife, but from further away. Ash just have gotten tired of waiting and was on the move. Maybe it was a blessing though, because her face was so warm she thought she might be getting a sunburn too.

"Okay, sure." Chug smiled wide, even more crooked, and knocked their skewers together again.

"Cool. It's a date."

Maple heard her name again, closer.

"I gotta go." She turned slightly in the direction of Ash's voice, then paused. "Oh, and Chug?"

He lifted his gaze toward her, taking another bite.

"When you ask me on our second date, make sure you don't still have vomit on your shirt?"

[imitationpersonne]

BNHA Chapter 215 Review aka I’m So Fucking Tired

So after 24 hours of shitty-brain-chemicals mini-crisis and reading the full pages and translation of chapter 215, I return...to confirm that yep, I’m still fuckin’ pissed.

Warning: If you’re not prepared for chart-topping Reddit-‘fandom’ levels of salt, shade, and bitterness with a whole lot of fucks mixed in, I suggest you read no further.

Let’s just do this page-by-page, shall we.

Oh my god, FINALLY. It’s already been five minutes; we’ve waited so long for this whole ‘scary new power’ phase to be over. Five whole minutes, y’all! Wow.

I mean, ya not wrong, buddy! You pretty much can do anything if Mr. Author’s plot dictates it. Because who gives a fuck about feeling like there are any stakes in anything or making the world seem real; amirite, Hori?

Shinsou again with the super relatability. P sure a lot of us are goddamn incredulous about the overplayed ‘struggling with new quirk manifestation’ drama, now that Izuku is magically instantly proficient. Because that’s how quirks have worked up until this point.......

Oh no...! Back down to 8% with no air force attack for a hot second?? WHAT A NERF! Whatever will he do?? ...Oh. Still win everything. So who gives a fuck. Does anybody really believe these percentages don’t just mean whatever Hori wants them to at any given moment anyway?

Yo, I’m sorry. Apologizing for the author who hyped some fantastic MonoShin collaboration and then did everything he could to prevent that from happening. Bitch.

But then...they did? Sooooooooo...? What the fuck’s the point of Shinsou recovering his mask and going for another plan? Legit nothing came of this. Why does this panel--no, most of this chapter even exist?? Like I get that it’s supposed to look like a struggle between the teams, but it’s all just...super contrived the way it ends, my dudes. This is bullshit writing, k.

Okay, I frickin’ loved this scene. I can be mad as all hell and still admit this was enjoyable. The quirk meta, the mind games, and Monoma’s zero-grav hair.

Okay, but did he really need another fucking limit on his quirk??? Time limit, one-at-a-time limit, potentially type limit (not able to copy mutant quirks--but that’s just speculation/headcanon for now)...and now number limit? WHILE IZUKU IS GETTING SIX WHOLE FUCKING PERMA-QUIRKS FOR GODDAMN FREE??

YEAH OKAY, LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT. I saw a post I mostly disagreed with and disliked (and don’t care to identify or quote; I can’t even remember whose it was or anything) saying this six-new-abilities ability is going to erase the need for a ton of other already-existing characters. Sero, as an example, since Black Whip basically usurps his specialty and more. On principle, as the worldbuilding has stood up until this point, I disagreed that characters like Sero would become useless. The way society has been trending, teamwork has been increasingly essential and encouraged. That means two people with lasso/tape-like quirks would do just fine! There can be more than one person with a similar quirk! Hell, that’s all Monoma’s quirk is--a temporary second of one that already exists. OR TETSUTETSU AND KIRISHIMA MUCH? They’re both useful! Even together!

So as a general principle, people with similar quirks can and do exist just fine in the same universe and even same space and role. The danger exists only if the author is so irresponsible as to consciously edge out the other characters by letting his pet character take care of everything by himself. Which seems like exactly what Izuku’s new six-quirks is at risk of doing now. Sure, argue Uraraka was useful and that Izuku relied on her this time, mmkay, but wait until he gets his own antigrav quirk, lol. Like, at this point, I honestly don’t trust Hori not to fuck up the beautiful character synergies and contrasts he’s already built. Because he sure did fuck up a lot of things that had great potential this arc already. Often by stepping on the ‘little’ guys. Fuck you, Tokage didn’t deserve that, and Baku didn’t deserve to dominate that hard. Where is the goddamn sense of struggle and achievement? Aight, that’s a rant for another day...

Anyway, back on track, call me biased as hell, but usurping the specialty of the guy whose ONLY NICHE WAS BEING THE ONLY ONE WITH VERSATILE MULTI-QUIRK USAGE? AND GAINING MULTIPLE QUIRKS BUT WITHOUT SEVERAL OF MONOMA’S LIMITING FACTORS? Gooooooooooo fuck yourself, ‘blessed boy’.

But...HE DIDN’T, THOUGH? Monoma’s ace-in-the-hole surprise Twin Impact stunned Mr. Protagonist for an amazing two whole seconds! Because of course; the fuck were we all thinking hoping other people mattered in this story or stood a chance against plot-device-convenient auto-scaling levels of OP? Like why even try tbh???

Shinsou fucking gets it. We all get it; it was an amazing play. But protagonist privilege too strong; what the fuck can you do.

Oh yep, here’s a more accurate translation, given the goddamn results.

Hahahahaha, amazing, even literally everybody in-character gets it. Team 5-B had every right to win this shit. But then...!

Oh boy!!! Generic shonen anime protagonist inspiration spiel to the contrived-Hori-plot rescue! Now, with these magic thoughts, he will win! Amazing how that works!

Well yeah, no shit, it makes sense for you to have that kind of confidence, considering that’s legit how your protagonist life works. Congrats on the contrived win, dude; I know you’re not surprised. Y’all, I know this isn’t in-world Izuku’s fault; he’s doing his best which is what he should be doing. It’s the shitty writing, plain and simple. Don’t blame the kid that gets everything; blame the one who spoils them at the expense of others. So perhaps calling me petty would be deserved, but my bitterness can’t help but leak out towards the character as well; it’s just human nature. I don’t like Baku as much as I used to either, because all the interesting bits are gone now that he’s OP and comparably perfect. At least Hori kinda kicked Shouto to the OP-privilege curb a little; makes him more realistic, relatable, and likable.

Ohhhh god, generic shonen anime faux-inspirational epilogue to put the icing on the shit cake; brb gagging.

Alright, so let’s summarize all the implied morals to the story here!:

Things turned around at the very end for basically no other reason than Hori wanted Team Protag to win.

All the dipshits were actually right; class B is legit inferior to class A, as evidenced by the results of literally every time they’ve directly faced each other. 1 win to 3 this time, bitch, and don’t make me remind of the sports festival. Even though B class clearly has better teamwork and synergy. Screw that, A more powerful, A smash. A main character class; A win.

Monoma, your backstory classmates were right, turns out! You are apparently an ineffective hero student who just keeps losing! You’ll never be more than a side character to be used, abused, and discarded. Fuck your aspirations, fan-fucking-tastic.

Shinsou, don’t kid yourself; you haven’t fucking changed. You got beaten by the same dude in nearly the exact same fashion. Your entire arc was fucking pointless; have fun in general studies! (In honesty, if Hori has any remaining shred of sensibility, I think he might let Shinsou into hero course anyway? Did they ever say Shinsou technically had to win both of his matches? Or just show progress? Who fucking knows at this point.)

Everybody who didn’t need to be reminded they’re great won. Are you not inspired?

Beautiful. Beautiful goddamn arc, Horikoshi; you taught us the important things in this world. Applause. I will honestly punch myself in the face in ecstatic shock if Hori manages to pull some way out of his ass to make this a satisfying conclusion.

My final thoughts:

Fuck this shit, I’m out.

[kylermalloy]

My Official Unofficial Ranking of The Originals Seasons That Literally No One Asked For

So, these rankings turned out hilariously chronological. It’s not that I think each season just got progressively worse—it’s just that when I laid out the good things about each season, and the bad things that outweighed them... this is the order I ended up with.

MAJOR SPOILERS for The Originals ahead! Also, as a disclaimer: this is all opinion-based, and I reserve the right to change my mind at any time.

5 - Season 5

So...I kind of hate the last season. Part of it is my bitterness about how the writers messed up the character dynamics, and part of it is amazement that the (mostly) same team of writers wrote the masterpiece that was season 1.

So, the overarching story for this season is...? “We’re making a spinoff with Hope next year so we have to get rid of all the characters who are close to her who don’t want to be in yet another dumb vampire show”? That’s my impression of the writers’ goals when they planned this season. Although there are a few pertinent themes about hatred and prejudice (the irony of the Nazi-esque bad guys opposing Klaus when Klaus himself had a Nazi-esque crusade back when he first showed up on TVD is not lost on me) none of the themes have a lasting impact. They’re not developed in a memorable way. We get these purist losers to serve as villains for the first half of the season, then they’re unceremoniously taken out after they’ve killed a sufficient amount of main characters.

Then the rest of the season is just...wheel-spinning. A game of hot potato as we speculate who’s going to die at the end.

Don’t get me wrong, there was some powerfully good stuff in this season. I fully support the ending, even though the majority of fans didn’t like it. I loved it. I thought it incredibly fitting for the show to end as it began—with Klaus and Elijah side by side. Facing death together as they faced life. Dying for Hope. Their family’s legacy.

HOWEVER. A few good moments at the end of the season doesn’t make up for all the crap the writers pulled throughout the season. They had NO RIGHT to kill Hayley. They had NO REASON to separate Elijah from the family—the entire show, basically—for over half the season, or to make him complicit in killing Hayley. And that darn time jump from season 4 to season 5 is just...I have no words. Klaus and Hope were jipped out of so much time together, just because the writers wanted a teenage Hope. So many sloppy decisions were made in this season, both storywise and character-wise. It really calls into question the writers’ understanding of the characters they’re writing. So much of this season undercut what the last four seasons of the show were working toward. And the regressions we see in this season have no lasting impact—like Klaus’s murder relapse, or his estrangement from Hope. They’re nothing more than cheap excuses to make the plot happen.

(Clearly I have feelings.)

What this boils down to is that the narrative in season 5 has no structure. It’s a patchwork of lazy storytelling and fanservice—a few good moments between characters we already know and love doesn’t excuse that. Although the series ended with a bang, it’s clear that this final season was nothing more than the scattered, picked-clean bones of the show I fell in love with.

4 - Season 4

So this season is much better in terms of plot—the story is tightly paced and clearly planned out.

The problem is that it’s boring.

The narrative that the writers presented this season required lots of moving around and doing things and characters talking to other characters, and hardly any of it was interesting. Klaus and Elijah spend most of the season separated in one way or another. Freya is separated from her family for a large part of the season, and I’ve only just recently rewatched the entire show—so I can definitively say that Hope and Elijah don’t have a single conversation in this whole season. Elijah, the one who first believed in and fought for Hope—before Klaus, before Hayley even, really—Elijah isn’t important enough to talk to Hope. Elijah gets shunted off to his dark arc mostly with Vincent—all to facilitate a completely unnecessary breakup with Hayley.

The one thing I have zero complaints about is Klope. Klaus and Hope were flawless in this season. They were everything I wanted. Klaus’s unsure parenting, his determination to make this change-for-his-daughter thing last, his SOFTNESS around her...that part of the season was stellar.

Klaus’s arc of healing his relationship with Marcel was also good. I don’t think it got enough screentime, and by the end of the season it wasn’t fully resolved, but I liked how it was actually addressed. (This show has a tendency to brush off Marcel sometimes)

The other thing I really appreciate about this season is that Klaus, the main character, wasn’t given a love interest this season. After his major love interest died the previous season, the writers did not try to give him a new one, or even try to pair him up with his baby mama. His relationship with his daughter was his main focus for the season, and it was beautiful.

So, season 4. Not as insulting as season 5 in terms of plot, but this plot...and this’ll surprise everyone...took too much focus. We spend more time learning about the Hollow this season than developing Mikaelson family relationships, and that’s honestly a crime. Any story that doesn’t develop the Mikaelson family dynamics is dead in the water.

3 - Season 3

At a glance, this season is awesome. I know a lot of hardcore fans liked it. I also know a lot of fans hated it. Me, I both hate it and love it. I think the idea they were trying to accomplish was a good one, but the cost? Very high, too high. The story, though it has great stakes, is actually quite shaky in places.

Personally, I never liked the Trinity storyline. The idea of the Originals facing their first sired was not interesting to me, especially when Tristan was boring, Lucien overstayed his welcome and became annoying, and Aurora turned out to be nothing beyond a silly soap opera plot device.

I did like the ending, though. Marcel finally reaching his last straw. Rising above his creator and finally showing us what would happen if the power dynamics were reversed. It’s sick and scary and exactly what I want from a monster soap opera.

But there’s a lot of things I don’t like. I don’t like that Cami was killed. Double-killed, actually. Davina’s arc was in complete shambles the entire season. Hope was out of focus for most of the season. And the werewolf drama that had caused Hayley so much grief last season wasn’t even background noise—it straight-up didn’t exist.

Like I said, I liked what the show was trying to do, but I think the writers chose an ending and forced it to happen instead of letting the pieces fall organically. There were probably some outside factors involved too, like the fear of not being renewed, actors wanting to leave, etc. My personal theory is that, out of worry that season 3 would be the final season, the writers killed Cami in an attempt to push Klaus to glorious redemption mode (don’t even get me started on how dirty they did Cami’s arc) thus giving us the conflicting death/vampirism/permadeath Cami arc in the back half. Which makes sense—but it’s still messy from a storytelling perspective.

But despite all that complaining, there were some things I truly loved about this season. The Klelijah rebuild was solid, organic, and completely earned. They began in a fractured place, seemingly beyond repair, then forced to band together in the face of threats, and ended the season possibly closer than they’ve ever been. (their hug in the finale still messes me up, y’all. I’m weak!)

Elijah got some truly interesting stories this year. While Tristan and the Strix were both duds, I actually really enjoyed Elijah’s relationship with Aya. And his relationship with Freya! Let’s be real, season 3 was really the season of Freylijah. As weird and incestuous as the Mikaelsons come off sometimes, Freya and Elijah are the most married. In fact, I’ll just go ahead and give a shoutout to Freya altogether. A hitherto unexplored Mikaelson with a sketchy-at-best history with her brothers moves into their house full-time? This could have been an epic disaster, or at the very least could have turned Freya into Rebekah 2.0—but somehow neither happened. Freya held her own, and her addition worked very nicely.

*deep breath* I have so much to say.

2 - Season 2

(Yes this list is shaping up exactly how you think it is!) Okay. I’ve got so much love for this season, even though parts of it drive me up the wall.

I’ll start with the positives: the family feels. Almost every part of the family drama hit home. The resurrections of Finn, Kol, Mikael, Esther, and the surprise introduction of Ansel were all superb ideas, storywise. The recasts of Kol, Finn, and Esther (and eventually Rebekah too!) all worked VERY well—a special shoutout to DSharman for making me truly care about Kol for the first time! And having an old family member as the main villain works SO well for this show. Dahlia was really awesome—and in the end, almost underutilized. But Freya! The addition of Freya to the family brought forth a whole new tidal wave of emotions.

And do I even need to say it? Klope, y’all. They just give me all the feels. The midseason finale will always have a special place in my heart.

That’s not to say I don’t have my problems with this season. The narrative structure comes from a very bold place—in typical TVD fashion, the terrible threats we started out fearing are soon rendered obsolete by this much huger looming threat. Alliances are formed, backs are stabbed, hearts are broken, and the end of the season leaves us and the characters picking up pieces of our hearts off the floor.

I very much like the idea that Klaus, obsessively paranoid and fearful, would turn on everyone he loves to protect his child. However, I don’t think the necessary steps were taken in the narrative for us to actually reach that point. There was too much werewolf drama—for Hayley to care about them so much, shouldn’t we know more than three of them by name? And speaking of Hayley, I kind of hated the back half of her arc. As she ascends to werewolf queen, she loses all the braincells that got her this far and decides to trust Jackson and her new family over the Mikaelsons, the oldest, most ruthless and feared supernatural beings in the world. Huh?

Altogether, I just don’t think Elijah, Rebekah, and Hayley all turning on Klaus was well-deserved in the writing—especially considering how well they all worked together in the beginning of the season. I think it was another case of the writers establishing an endpoint far ahead of time, then pushing all the characters and events to fit their plan. Still, I liked this season a lot. Not as sloppy as season 3, but still not as masterful as season 1. And without further ado...

1 - Season 1

Here it is! The masterpiece. My baby. The year of television I can rewatch at any time and enjoy so thoroughly I forget the other million times I’ve seen it. And I can wax poetic about it for days, much to the dismay of my followers.

I’ve heard some people—fans, even—call season 1 unfocused or disorganized, cluttered, still figuring itself out...but I disagree very strongly. Since TO is a spinoff, and the three main characters were already well-established by the writers (well, as consistent as the writing on TVD ever was) I never saw TO as a show that had to figure itself out. It knew who its characters were, it knew exactly what it was trying to do, and it did exactly that. It just was never what the audience expected, and it took a storytelling route that we as viewers aren’t quite used to.

This show took on the monumental task of trying to redeem one of the biggest, baddest fantasy villains on television. A thousand year old mass murderer who had long since lost any drops of humanity. A tortured soul, sure, who’d made a few cursory steps toward semi-goodness, but still damaged beyond repair...or so we think.

Klaus’s redemption comes through this child that he fathers. But it doesn’t come for free. I often say that Klaus is both the protagonist and the antagonist of season 1, because no one is working harder against his betterment than he is. We as viewers have to learn quickly that Klaus accomplishing his goals is not necessarily a good thing. We expect his struggle with Marcel to end in triumph at the season finale, because that’s what generally happens with pilot plotlines. But instead, Klaus wins the Quarter in less than eight episodes, and his rule falls apart multiple times before the season ends. (I’m especially grateful for Marcel’s character not falling into the trope of “Klaus created a monster who ended up being worse than he is!” because that’s stupid— and why Lucien, who does fall into that category, fell so flat for me. It just doesn’t work with a character like Klaus. Nobody out-monsters him.) We expect him to get everything he wanted—because he’s the main character and things work out in the end, right? No. The entire season is a slap-in-the-face wake up call for Klaus. He can’t be worthy of this child that he can’t deny he wants unless he changes who he fundamentally is. He expects to rule the Quarter through his sleazy condescension and his larger-than-life threats, but he finds himself challenged and even overpowered at every corner. He expects to mistreat his sister, walk over her and rage at her like he always does, and ultimately win her inevitable forgiveness—but she can’t take it anymore, and she leaves him.

He expects to be able to control everyone around him, placing himself at the center of everyone’s universe, and that ought to create a suitable environment for his child to grow up in. But when she’s born, he can’t even keep her safe on her first day of life. And that’s when he realizes he can’t do this anymore. Despite being a master strategizer, this can’t be how Klaus lives and acts as a father. The season finale is a beautiful culmination of this realization, as he does what he’s never quite been able to do, and trusts the people around him—release control.

Of course, this realization isn’t the one-and-done redemption story. The walk back is long and arduous and full of setbacks, as the subsequent seasons prove. Klaus’s old temperaments get the better of him over and over and over again. He learns and unlearns and learns again. And I could just go on and on about how much I love this season.

Now, after all that gushing, I still don’t know how much of the season was planned, or if outside forces (actor contracts, availability, etc.) had a hand in shaping the story, but either by tight plotting or happy coincidence, the stars aligned and this season is darn near perfect.

There are definitely flaws and shortcomings, but the overall story is just so good that I can easily overlook them. Catapulting off TVD, which relied so heavily on shallow drama, TO did what most spinoffs can never do, and surpassed their parent show. This first season? It’s to die for.

(I realize this was far too long, and I don’t really care. I’m aware of my inability to move on from shows that have ended, and I also do not care.) I’d love to hear thoughts, discussions, opinions, anything!