#i really aught to draw him more

[skeletalheartattack]

Imagine a gator anthro eating a cheesy pizza..... whoah

simply, to me this is just a normal day in the life of Ruce O'Donnell. this guy. my guy. he eats those. pizzas. AND he's a gator. whoah.

[mysterycitrus]

the way you write the relationships the batfam have with each other is so delicious to me like AUGHH YOUR BRAIN!!! it’s so good. if you were willing, i'd love to hear more of your thoughts on the relationship cass and jason have / steph and jason (staring at you with my big wet eyes)

i havent read much from any of the characters and have seen large parts of fandom say that they would all get along/they’d be so close/besties, so the ideas i’ve read in your works (wolf king and persephone) are very interesting!!

to put it bluntly — i think they’d fucking hate him.

part of that is, weirdly, people tend to devalue tim’s relationships with steph and cass. like, steph and tim have never been normal about each other. cass and tim spent most of the nineties and early aughts jumping back and forth to each other’s comics. in what world would either of them be chill with the guy who hurt him (and damian) like that?

it also flattens cass’s ideology and steph’s history with bruce’s mission. cass has struggled with engaging with murderers because she’s sees them as herself, and their actions as her own actions. she is reflected in each of them, but she ultimately values life above all else which is why her personal connection to the bat is so interesting. she would not have sympathy or time for jason todd, someone who uses bruce’s mission to hurt others, to take lives, and attack the people she loves. like…. please be serious. she would not be hanging out w the person who was happy when bludhaven got nuked.

same deal with steph— something that really annoys me is when people act as though the “bad robin club” would be a bonding moment between steph and jason. not just because steph has a more developed comic run than jason has, with legitimate obstacles to her getting recognised as a hero, but also because again, this guy is doing the same shit as her dad. why would she like him after he went after tim multiple times? whenever someone draws this comparison i think of this page —

the fact that steph values bruce’s mission, his views on taking a life, despite being at such a profound low point is really important. i can’t believe she’d look at jason and think him admirable.

however!!!! that doesn’t mean their interactions (when reasonably in character imo) can’t be interesting!! having cass and jason interact in persephone was a lot of fun, because making him interact with someone other than bruce or dick puts him off balance. peoples fear of complex relationships with legitimate stakes makes me sad. neither cass or steph have that history with him before death, or that same image of him as a memorial, and it’s a fun thing to explore. specifically this passage from wolf-king —

like yeah!! neither of them would fuck with him!!! let him be the unpopular brother!!

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Weeks in Review (September 10-30, 2023)

I adore Godzilla Final Wars, but it's a movie with an identity crisis, unsure whether it wants to be headlining a Toho Champion Festival or mesmerizing American teenagers at a mid-aughts multiplex. @spacehunter-m's Final Wars 2004: The Year We Make Corn-Tack gives it a strong tug in the first direction, whittling the runtime down to 77 minutes and replacing most of the music and sound effects. She was inspired by Space Warriors 2000, of all things; as she put it, both films are "largely comprised of nonstop, monotonous action." As in that bizarro Ultraman compilation film, the kaiju trash-talk each other. It makes you wonder why Ryuhei Kitamura didn't at least bring back the speech bubbles from Godzilla vs. Gigan. Kaiju fan edits are rare, and this is in a class all by itself. Download it here.

Shigeru Kayama's novelizations of Godzilla (1954) and Godzilla Raids Again are out—hopefully the first of many to come. My copy only arrived on Saturday, so I haven't had the chance to read the whole thing yet, but I've made it through Godzilla. It's interesting to see Kayama, who wrote the initial treatment, take another swing at the story after the film was finished. He puts back moments like Godzilla eating a cow and attacking a lighthouse, and is also more overt with the wartime allusions. There's an incredible moment where Dr. Yamane muses that studying Godzilla and learning his secrets could be Japan's way of redeeming itself after "caus[ing] a great deal of trouble to people throughout the world." Note that these are novella-length, so much less in-depth than the novelizations of American Godzilla films you might be used to (Godzilla Raids Again is less than 80 pages). The book ends with an afterword by translator Jeffrey Angles contextualizing the tales.

Godzilla: War for Humanity continues to be a standout IDW miniseries. There's a new and very weird monster in the second issue, plus a no-nonsense Mothra (she tries to recruit Godzilla to fight Zoospora by shooting him in the back of the head and dragging him into the ocean in front of Minilla).

I've also got to mention the solicitation for another Godzilla Rivals installment, due December 20. Nola Pfau is writing, Megan Huang is illustrating.

Jen Onça is not excited to start her new, fast-paced fast-food career at Minilla Burger, but she'd much prefer a mundane day to the sudden return of Megalon! The monster brings destruction, trapping Jen in a forgotten lab deep beneath the restaurant with only the half-built form of Jet Jaguar to help her get out! She must repair the robotic defender to save herself and the city, but first she needs to escape the rubble trapping her in this tense adventure!

Yuzo the Biggest Battle in Tokyo, Yoshikazu Ishii's follow-up to Attack of the Giant Teacher, has also been picked up by SRS Cinema. No release details yet. I can't really speak to the film either, since it screened at the same time as Yumiko Shaku's panel at G-Fest, but as you can see from the poster, it's set during the pandemic.

The GAMERA -Rebirth- Gyaos has joined Godzilla Battle Line as an unusual sort of swarm unit. Your first summon of the match calls forth two sub-adults, and by the fifth summon you're sending out two sub-adults and three adults, still for four energy. They're probably the best swarm in the game, though still highly vulnerable to AOE units like Godzilla '01. I'm having fun with them in the Challenge Battles.

Notzilla, one of the sharpest kaiju comedies out there, is unexpectedly getting the graphic novel treatment. Mitch Teemley is adapting his own screenplay, with art by Zumart Putra. The comic is already finished, although I'm not clear on how folks who didn't back the Kickstarter (which wrapped on September 11) will get it. Useless trivia: the terrific cover above (one of four) is by Ben Dunn, who wrote the How to Draw Manga book I poured over in middle school.

After Troll shattered Netflix streaming records (according to Netflix), it's not super surprising that the company wants a sequel. Priority one: coming up with a title that's not Troll 2. Screenwriter Espen Aukan and director Roar Uthaug will both return.

Toy highlights of the past few weeks:

After confusing everyone by teasing its silhouette the day before April Fools', Tamashii has fully unveiled an S.H.Monsterarts Godzilla '72, a rare Showa figure from the line. It comes with two heads, one of them bloodied (see above). Due at the end of February.

After finally running out of ways to repaint their mold of Hedorah's Perfect Stage, Bandai is making a Movie Monster Series figure of the kaiju's Landing Stage. A Godzilla Store exclusive, it'll be released October 25.

After over two years, Funko is releasing a trio of Godzilla Singular Point Pops. Hopefully they go all-out with this show—it's not like there's any other plausible way for a Satomi Kanahara figure to exist.

[foxymoxynoona]

Over the Falls Ch. 2: Bomb

Sexy Banner & bar by @borabae-gx

Summary: Jungkook sees a lot of things as a pool tech. It’s…  fine. It pays the bills between mornings on the water and evenings  rocking out with his garage-band. His favorite thing to see on the job has been Grace Birch –older but a hottie, wealthy but nice, and  unfortunately very married. At least until Grace learns what her husband  has been up to behind her back. Now that she’s free, Jungkook finds  himself wondering: what does it take for a guy like him to catch the eye of a woman like that?

Genre: Poolboy Jungkook x Rich Divorcee OC

Tags: Age gap (older woman), socioeconomic gap, Surferboy JK, drummer/guitarist/vocalist JK, Wealthy divorcee OC, househusband

CW: Mature/Explicit,  Infidelity (not between JKxOC), language, alcohol, recreational drugs, lots of explicit sex, ageist/racist/classist remarks down the road, outdoor sex, beach sex

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

“You’re pursing your lips!” Taro called back to Jungkook. His attempts to unpurse them failed beneath his glare; he pursed them tighter, then squeezed his eyes shut accidentally while trying to relax his lips. Thinking about it all caused him to drag the rhythm and Yoongi abruptly stopped.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook scowled at Taro. “Who cares what my mouth is doing when I’m not singing?”

“I care, it doesn’t look cool.”

“Well stop looking back at me and you won’t see it. The audience is that way,” Jungkook said, pointing with his stick to the front of the garage where Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Corri chilled with beers on cheap folding chairs. They weren’t paying any attention to the rehearsal, certainly not to anything Jungkook’s face was doing behind the drums. 

“Yeah but–”

“No one cares what his fucking face does,” Soyoon agreed with him. “They care whether he nails that tricky rhythm.”

“Thank you–”

“If he looks like a muppet, so what?”

Jungkook’s grateful grin slid into a scowl. Soyoon smiled. 

Yoongi’s voice sounded equally as deceptively supportive as he suggested, “Maybe more like a tarsier.”

“I was thinking tree frog,” Taehyung called over. 

“You’re all fucking assholes,” Jungkook huffed and did a run on the drums as loud as he could as punishment. They were unfortunately unbothered. As unbothered as they should have been about whatever concentration face he made as he drummed. They had no idea the coordination and focus it required! 

“Don’t listen to them,” Hoseok insisted as soon as the cacophony died down. “You’re handsome no matter what face you make, that’s why they’re being like that. They’re jealous. You look so cool when you drum, you’re stealing the show.”

It was too over the top. Jungkook sighed and let his head hang as his friends got their laughs out. 

“What? What did I say?” Hoseok mumbled as Jimin patted his arm and shushed him. Hoseok was the only one of their group to say something like that and mean it sincerely, but no one could take it seriously. Alas.

“Let’s just take it from the top,” Yoongi said. “Last song of the night and I’m out.”

“Out? Why out? We’re performing this weekend,” Taro instantly argued. Jungkook saw the twitch of Yoongi’s lips, only the faintest sign he ever showed that he was annoyed.

“Yeah, so we had the extra rehearsal.”

“I just want us to do well,” Taro insisted. “This isn’t a normal performance. It’s a competition.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the snicker, “For Aughts Coverbands. It’s not that deep, Taro, you don’t have to be a bitch about my face.”

“Gee, can’t imagine why you can’t get laid lately.”

“The fuck do you know about it? I can get laid whenever I–” Jungkook sputtered. Really? She had to say that right in front of Corri?!

Soyoon sighed noisily, “We all know you want to win, we all know Junky can get laid, can we just do it already?” God he hated that nickname, if anyone besides Soyoon called him that he’d lose his shit, but somehow she’d always been able to use it as a hook to draw him back. He rolled his eyes at her, as expected, and she grinned and thumbed a line on the bass.

“Winning is fun,” Taro huffed. “I thought at least Jungkook would agree with me.”

“You’re talking shit about my face! We aren’t going to lose because of my face!”

“Only when you purse your lips like that.”

“I’m just concentrating.”

“You’re supposed to make it look effortless.”

“You wanna drum?” he asked, standing from the stool and holding the sticks out. She rolled her eyes and looked away. She’d once tried to pick it up and failed miserable, she lacked the coordination and muscle for it. And Jungkook had taken the high road and not teased her (too bad) about it. Her inability to play any instrument didn’t matter; she was a kickass lead vocalist and frontwoman, even though she sucked before any performance she deemed important. Yeah, Jungkook wanted to do well in a competition, obviously, but it wasn’t supposed to be a source of stress. They were a mostly-covers band, not some music act out to change the world. It was just supposed to be fun. Jungkook had managed to calm down the hyper-competitive streak of his younger days and wasn’t interested in getting all wrapped up in it again. 

“I’m just trying to help you get laid,” she mumbled.

“Why are you so worried whether he’s getting laid?” Taehyung asked, just as loudly as before, as if Corri hadn’t already heard all of this. Corri, one of the women uninterested in laying him despite their past lays.

“I’m not. I just think he seems frustrated.”

“Yeah because our vocalist keeps talking shit about my concentration face.”

Yoongi started to play the chorus, a not-so-subtle sign he was bored with the bickering banter. 

“Yeah I’m frustrated but not about… whatever, just play the song,” Jungkook huffed. Corri’s obvious avoidance of looking in his direction suddenly embarrassed him, when he usually could shrug off teasing no problem. He didn’t care that Corri didn’t want to fuck anymore, it wasn’t like they had been a thing, it just was embarrassing for someone you weren’t a thing with to tell you they wanted to be even less of a thing… Suddenly he wondered if Corri and Taro had been talking about him….

Before anyone (Taro) could escalate further, Soyoon scolded, “Elizabeth. Sing the damn song so I’m not late to teaching.”

Taro —real name Elizabeth– scowled in Soyoon’s direction this time and Jungkook settled back onto his stool. He flexed his fingers and cracked his neck to get ready for the final run-through of all three songs they would play at the competition: “Misery Business” by Paramore, “All Around You” by Flyleaf, and “The Real Mothers” by Screaming Females. Jungkook could have done without Flyleaf but Taro had gotten to choose the final song after a cutthroat tournament of rock-paper-scissors. Granted, Jungkook would have preferred to cover at least one male-led song, but he wasn’t going to go there. 

Instead he did his best to keep his face neutral and un-pinched as he played, his best effort to be above reproach. Yoongi was who he cared more about impressing though; Taro was a great vocalist but when it came to musical talent, Yoongi was their lead with Soyoon not far behind. The two of them wrote and composed all their original stuff and did the arrangements for their covers. The two of them could have gone pro, really, but they had their reasons for being in this hobby band, just like Taro did, just like Jungkook did. 

Fun. It was all supposed to be fun. 

Usually he liked rehearsal, but Taro was right about one tiny thing: he was frustrated. But it wasn’t about sex! Or at least not about his sex. It was about a particular video sitting on his phone that he had no fucking clue what to do about. He had hoped to ask Yoongi what he thought but then felt stupid about it as they kicked off rehearsal and there wasn’t any time afterwards. As soon as the set was done, Soyoon and Yoongi both split for their evening gigs. 

Taro’s face went through a tornado of emotions before she finally put her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and said, “Sorry. Your face is fine. I just want us to look good but I didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“Whoever you have coming to the show isn’t going to fuck or not fuck you because of what my face does.”

She growled, “Come on, I apologized. Don’t be a shit.” But it was allowed. That’s how things were between them, had been for the ten years they’d known each other since their first pick up performances as teens, back when she was just Beth and not the artist known as Taro. He grinned and she pinched his cheek and that was the end of it; she and Corri disappeared with only a backward wave.

Jungkook expected to be on his own for the last bit of cleanup but Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok shuffled around the garage helping with it. They’d done their best to waterproof the garage but after a leak had come a little too close to an amp, Jungkook was too nervous to leave anything of value on the ground ever again. He’d built a shaky wooden platform for his kit, made sure all the cables and amps were on shelves and hooks against the windowless wall, and kept the other instruments inside the house. Yoongi’s garage had been nicer and at the top of a hill but after his neighbors called the cops on them twice, they’d moved to Jungkook’s garage. His neighbors didn’t give a shit; everyone was noisy here. They usually played with the door open anyways because it got hot as fuck in there with only a couple fans and sometimes people would sit out on their porches to listen. Jimin had the great idea of adding an air conditioner but with what fucking money? Someday. Maybe with the prize money if they won the competition! The 2000s were the worst decade of music as far as Jungkook was concerned, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t win…

He felt the stirrings of ambition and squashed it.

“Paramore and Flyleaf,” he mumbled as Jimin and Taehyung sang lyrics over each other while they looped cables. 

“What’s wrong with Paramore?” Hoseok asked. “Besides that you’re too young to remember them.”

“I’m not too young. I remember “Ain’t It Fun,” that album. And I remember these songs! I like them. The drumming is good, and they’re good for Taro’s voice.”

“But… you’d rather be playing something else?”

“I just don’t like the competitions,” he admitted. “I’d rather be doing our usual set for our usual stage. No stress, no worries–”

“Yeah you don’t like it because you’re a sleeping competitive asshole,” Jimin snickered.

Jungkook looked around for anything left down as he demanded, “What does that mean, sleeping?”

“It means you want everything to think you’re chill. Surfer life, ya?” Jimin teased, making two shaka gestures. His mockery was idiotic considering he surfed almost as much as Jungkook did, although he hadn’t gone as much lately. Work. “We’ve known you too long. We know you like to crush the competition.”

“Nah, man, that’s not me anymore.”

Jimin and Taehyung shared a look. Jungkook backhanded Taehyung in the stomach because he was closest, then motioned for them to get out so he could drag the garage door closed. The clicker had been broken for a while and every time one of them tried to fix it, it just broke again. Handymen they were not despite their best efforts, Jungkook in particular. He just didn’t have the knack for it, so he was learning, that was all. Their landlord didn’t have to be such a shitbag about his attempts gone awry. If he’d just call the fucking plumber or contractor or whatever it was on time, Jungkook wouldn’t have to take matters into his own hands! Or worse, Taehyung or Jimin went after it. 

“What are we doing for dinner?” Taehyung asked as they kicked their shoes off by the back door. Jungkook ignored the question, assuming it was intended for Jimin or Hoseok, or at least not him. Briefly looking at his phone with the thought of delivery –followed by the painful reminder of his bank account– nudged his attention back to the video. The video. The one currently living in the Recently Deleted folder on his phone, chilling in limbo for 30 days until he either restored it or let his phone delete it for good. He felt no closer to making a decision on what to do with it. Forget he knew this and let it disappear? Give it to Mrs. Birch because she deserved to know she was married to an epic dipshit? 

“JK?” 

“Yeah episode four, I don’t know.”

“Huh?”

“Are we talking about what to watch?”

“What show are you even talking about?” Jimin laughed at him. “We’re talking about food! Dinner!”

“Oh. Uh…”

Taehyung snickered and nudged him with an elbow as he passed through the door, “He’s thinking about the video.”

“Grossss.”

“I’m not— I’m not thinking about the video,” Jungkook argued. It was a lie; they could tell it was a lie. He didn’t appreciate their joke of making it sound like he was thinking-thinking about it, rather than stressing about it. Stressing wasn’t his style.

“Just delete it, man,” Taehyung said. “You don’t need some guy’s nut on your phone. No offense to the gays in the room.”

“None taken, I don’t want some asshole’s nut on my phone either,” Jimin snickered.

“Yeah but….” 

Jimin, still grinning, countered, “Stop being a puss and just tell the wife what you found. She deserves to know and once she’s done being heartbroken, she’ll appreciate it,” Jimin countered. “Maybe a lot.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Jungkook deeply regretted having drunkenly shared a Mrs. Birch fantasy with Jimin just one time, which Jimin would now never ever forget.

Their “advice” was too much like teasing. It didn’t feel serious and had already put him in a bad mood when they first acted like this when he told them yesterday. Not everything was a joke. He wanted to live like that too, sure! But he had a real moral conflict here and he didn’t appreciate them making it sound like he was getting some kind of sick pleasure –either out of having a fucking porn video of that spaghetti-dick Tim or of hoping to get into Mrs. Birch’s good graces as a hero. He didn’t feel like this was heroic. He felt like a fucking creep to have taken it in the first place. He felt like it was infecting his phone. He felt like he was holding a bomb that was going to blow up a marriage and really hurt a good person. 

Not that he really knew her and whether she was a good person. For all he knew she had Nice White Lady Syndrome for “the Help” and was an entitled privileged bitch elsewhere. She’d married that fucker, after all, so she had to be like into that kind of guy and lifestyle and all that. Maybe she had her side pieces too, for all he knew! And it just wasn’t him! He didn’t want to insert himself into what could be a really sick, fucked up marriage.

“What if the dude comes after me?” he mused. He flopped down on the couch, instantly comforted by the broken-in cushion that nearly swallowed him. “He could get me fired. Sue me. Ruin my life. I dunno.”

“For exposing his cheating?” Taehyung’s face crinkled up. “Then we fuck him up.”

“He’s rich.”

Jimin tapped his chin and pointed out, “Ah, it’s true, it probably wasn’t legal for you to take that video, right?”

“Huh?”

“You filmed a guy having sex in his own house,” Jimin said. “I just mean… having the video is probably a risk. You should either pass it along or get rid of it, but only if you know the wife won’t turn on you. Rich people… you gotta be careful with them.”

“She…” Jungkook started to say she wouldn’t… but he didn’t know. He didn’t actually know her at all. And now Jimin and Taehyung were making him more scared than guilty. He couldn’t get sued. He didn’t have money! He didn’t have time for court. And his family wouldn’t be able to handle the shame. Who would watch Max when Yoojin got called into work without warning? Who would help his dad set up literally any new electronic device or go grocery shopping with his mom so she didn’t have to carry all the bags into the house because Yoojin was busy with Max and his dad worked a lot and Haewon didn’t live at home anymore? His parents needed him more than ever now, he couldn’t go to jail just because he was trying to do something “good” for a woman he didn’t even know! A thing she probably wouldn’t even appreciate!

He turned to Hoseok, hoping for some meaningful insight from him. Hoseok was a few years older and easily the most mature, experienced person in the house right now. Aside from his choice in dating Jimin, he tended to demonstrate good taste and clear judgment. Jimin and Taehyung could be hit or miss on their advice but Hoseok had a knack for people. Jungkook rebelled at their stirring of the pot, making him so nervous. He wasn’t a nervous guy. There had to be an easy, simple solution.

But Hoseok, who hadn’t said a word this whole time, nor when Jungkook first stupidly told these guys about the video two days ago, just read from his phone, “Kalasha is doing a free delivery special to celebrate the new restaurant. Chicken? Egg sandwiches?”

“Yeah, chicken!” Taehyung quickly agreed. Jungkook understood: they were done talking about this, and he sure wasn’t going to be the needy baby demanding more advice that he didn’t even appreciate. He was both relieved and annoyed. This was his mess. He had to figure this out on his own. But he could have used some good advice.

“Egg sandwich,” he said. “Is there one with chicken too? I’m gonna hit the gym later tonight and surf in the morning so I need that protein, yo!” There, Jungkook back to himself, and his friends readily accepted it. 

The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out all else. Early mornings had a cool humidity to them, leaving a cold sweaty feeling on Jungkook’s skin, his hair wild and crunchy from the salt. The warm water lapped his ankles, sand sucking out from beneath his toes as the water swirled and then retreated, only to be overrun by the next impatient wave. It was a beautiful morning to be out, perfect surf conditions, beach not yet overrun by the tourists who would flock here once they’d finished their brunch and mimosas at the nearby resort.

Jungkook shook the wet hair out of his face and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze off the water. The scent of salt and fish, sharp and pungent, was home to him. He breathed in deeply and tried to let everything else in the world sift from his mind. That was the beauty of surfing, it took all of you, for a brief time you were nothing but a fleck of energy carried by the water. That was what he liked about drumming too. He liked things that consumed him.

Surfing early in the morning had many advantages, when the tide worked out. Nice weather. Quieter beach. Fewer rookies. 

“How’s the break, bro?” Carver asked, coming up behind and slapping him on the shoulder. Jungkook saw Missy trailing further up the beach, board perched on her head. He took his eyes off Hoseok only for a second to answer,

“Yeah, bomb breaks today.” He slapped Carver’s back in return. “You’re late for dawn patrol though, eh?”

Carver rolled his eyes, “Someone couldn’t get out of bed this morning.” He jerked his thumb at Missy. Jungkook’s eyebrows raised but he said nothing, knowing he’d be awkward. Carver and Missy had been dating a year now or something like it, and for at least a year before that Carver had trailed along behind her like a lovesick dickhead while Missy didn’t have the time of day for him. Jungkook had spent many a daybreak catching waves with her but she’d seemed unbothered by any of his attempts at flirting –until suddenly one day she took a liking to Carver and now they stayed up all night fucking so she couldn’t make it to the beach on time. Jungkook hated that he knew that. He was fine that she’d never given him a chance but he was bummed to see less of two people he enjoyed. 

And also that they were just so happy together.

Fuck, he just knew too much about other people’s fuck lives without having one of his own to occupy his thoughts.

He gave a wave to Missy and headed out to the water just as Hoseok slid smoothly onto the beach. He sure didn’t let his bedmate keep him from catching those early breaks under the first streaks of light. His hair spiked and his smile glowed as he took those first heavy steps off the board and then immediately turned around to drag it back into the water a few yards behind Jungkook.

“I’ve only got time for one more,” he called, voice swallowed by the surf but Jungkook still heard and remembered he’d said that earlier, he had an earlier shift as a manager at the resort. It was a really demanding job, and he busted his ass. But he was still here! Unlike Taehyung. Jimin was practically a hodad at this point anyway so it didn’t really matter if he was here since he just distracted Hoseok anyway.

Jungkook walked until he had to glide and paddle. The sun was steadily heating up on his back but the water felt cool by comparison, drenching the thin fabric of his rash guard. He kept his eyes on the horizon where sea birds flitted and landed, and a couple fishing boats in the distance seemed to hover. Greenish fish darted beneath the shadow of his board. A shadow of a cloud passed over but otherwise the sky was clear and would no doubt be scorching later. Work was going to be hot today. He had three pools to clean, and then had promised Yoojin he’d take Max in the evening. She was being cagey as shit about why she needed the sitting, which probably meant she had a date and she knew very well how Jungkook felt about that. Yoojin’s taste in men was as shitty as her cooking. Max was the only good thing her ex had ever done in his life, and he wasn’t even still involved except for an occasional miniscule child-support check.

When he got far enough out, he straddled the board and waited as first one and then a second mushburger made him bob. Too gentle to ride. Sitting in the lull was peaceful though and gave Hoseok time to catch up. Jungkook breathed the breeze and watched his friend sit up several yards away. As the first one out, Jungkook had wave priority, but he knew Hoseok had somewhere to be.

“You want the next one?” he called.

“Nah bro, you’re first!”

“I can wait. I’m floating.”

“No no it’s fine, you first.”

“Eh…” Jungkook sighed as a totally surfable swell raised beneath them. Neither of them took it, just watched as it peeled. “Damn, would’ve been perfect.”

“Take it,” Hoseok insisted. “I can chill.”

Jungkook briefly considered it. Felt his muscles tense as another swell began to rise behind him. But being out here was soothing, and he felt tendrils dragging at his mind again that he wasn’t willing to face once he went back to shore. Out here he was nothing, nobody, just a piece of driftwood on the sea. Back on land, he had a job to do. The Birch pool was on his roster today, and he was no closer to figuring out what to do with the video in his trash folder. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as the wave once again passed them and broke.

“Bro,” Hoseok called. “You ok?”

“What do I do about that video, man?” Jungkook sighed, shouting to be heard over the distance. “I just don’t know… I gotta face her today and what, know her husband is fucking around and that she probably doesn’t know? But damn I don’t want to be tied up in some rich person bullshit…”

Hoseok shook his head, “Yeah, you can’t get into that shit. Richies will rip you up, they don’t give a shit you were trying to do a good thing.” Of course, Hoseok saw lots of shitty rich people in his resort job. Jungkook had briefly worked there as a cabana boy too. He remembered. Oh boy, did he remember.

“Yeah but…” Jungkook sighed. They were all right. He knew they were right, and his family would give the same advice if he asked –which he wouldn’t, because he would never talk to his family about personal problems like that. They had enough of their own and he was the eldest now so it was his job to help them. 

But he also just had this painful twist in his stomach at the idea of Mrs. Birch being married to that piece of shit. Probably the fucker was going to catch something and give it to her and that’s how she’d fine out. He’d get some other chick pregnant. She’d walk in on it and be traumatized. Maybe she was secretly as shitty as the rest but if she wasn’t, didn’t she deserve to know the kind of man she married? Since apparently she hadn’t already figured it out on her own? But it wasn’t Jungkook’s job to tell her…

“I see that look,” Hoseok laughed, splashing Jungkook to get his attention. “You want to do it. That’s why I don’t like to give you advice. You just do what you’re going to do anyway.”

“The thing is, I would want to know,” Jungkook said.

“You aren’t her. You should be worried about yourself. She doesn’t care about you.”

It hurt to hear. It was true. He didn’t like to hear it but appreciated the honesty.

“I know but… otherwise what, I keep cleaning their pool and keep knowing and don’t say anything? That’s not who I am. I want to be an honest person no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Hoseok laughed. “It’s admirable but sometimes not the best.”

Jungkook let out a noisy sigh. 

And then had an idea.

“What if it’s not me that tells her?” he said, slowly turning his board after it drifted. “What if I just give her the video anonymously? Then she knows but no one knows it’s me.”

Hoseok’s face screwed up, “How would you even do that?”

“Burn a dvd. Leave it in her mailbox?”

“They probably have cameras all over the place. Or they’ll data mine the DVD or whatever…”

But Jungkook was onto something and he knew it. Fine, a USB stick, and he didn’t think it had to be that secure because he hadn’t seen anything that made him think either of the Birchs was that technically smart and they were going to have bigger things to worry about anyway, right? Like divorce. Divorce that would bring that piece of rich-ass shit to his dry, wrinkled knees.

“Nah bro, this will work!” Jungkook beamed. He felt an instant lightness swell within him that had nothing to do with the lift of another wave beneath the board. “Ya, ok, it’s a plan. Let’s get it!”

“Wait, but JK–”

“I’m taking this one!” he called, ignoring Hoseok’s concerns. There was no good path forward but this was the best one. Probably Mrs. Birch would be hurt but at least no one could trace it to him and he wouldn’t have to admit to her he’d been the one to record it and no one could sue him for what pennies he had to his name.

He caught the next wave, leaping to his feet at the lip of it as he drew in a deep, joyful breath. This was the best part. Flying. Adrenaline coursed through his body, just the right amount to make him feel like a beam of sunlight, the rough board beneath his feet the only thing left to ground him as he cut his board across clear water that sprayed in his face. No barrels big enough to pull into this morning but the drop left his heart thumping in his chest and his head spinning. Nothing beat the high of a bitchin’ ride. 

Suddenly the wave closed out, sending Jungkook tumbling into the water. The slap to his chest left him winded but he surfaced only a moment after his board bobbed, tugging his ankle by the leash. He flipped his hair back and lifted his face to the sun as he swiped the salt water from his eyes. Didn’t matter that he’d grubbed it, the ride had been excellent until then. Grubbing it was just part of the game.

With a lighter heart and a clear mind, Jungkook sloshed his way to shore to put his plan into action.

The orange envelope was on the front porch when she got home that day, tucked between the storm door and the wooden door as if the mailman had dropped it off. They often did that, even though Tim had built a big stupid UV box for packages. She couldn’t blame the mailmen for not wanting to open the lid of a heavy-looking mysterious box just to leave her latest pantry tupperware from Amazon or Tim’s Razor of the Month club or whatever, despite the insistent sign. She tried to always be the one to bring the mail in so she wouldn’t have to listen to Tim rail about packages left on the ground. He worried about that kind of thing. He thought he was the kind of person important enough for someone to send Anthrax to in the mail.

She’d grabbed the envelope on her way out to get the mail from the box, and tossed it all onto the kitchen counter since Tim was out of town and not here to gripe at her for even briefly making a mess.

“It’s unfair of me to be so critical towards him,” she scolded herself as she looked in the fridge to see what the personal chef had left her for dinner. Tim had actually been very pleasant lately. He’d finally agreed they ought to redecorate the bedroom (as long as it stayed white and gray), praised the dinner she made on a day the chef didn’t come, greeted her with daiquiris after she’d been swimming and asked her about her day as he untied the strings of her bikini. 

Look, she knew those things shuffled over a low bar when listed out of context. But the context was that he’d been working hard and stressed for a while now. The latest acquisition was so close to signing and he was sweating it but the fact he was making an effort even in the midst of that meant a lot to her. It reassured her that once they were to the other side of this period of work, things were going to even out again. Tim would go back to being a bit less of a cranky asshole. She would go back to feeling less resentful, a little more charitable about the moodswings of her hard-working husband who was doing his best to succeed in a cutthroat industry. He wanted to make a name for himself beyond what his own father had accomplished. She admired that.

While the oven preheated, she flipped through the mail, mostly junk. When she got to the envelope though, she realized it was just addressed to Mrs. Birch, no mailing address, no stamp.

Her first thought was that a friend must have dropped something off for her, only to instantly consider it would be really weird for them to address it to Mrs. Birch. None of her friends called her that. 

A client? But she never gave her personal address to anyone she worked for, there was no need for it anyway, she just had things mailed to the office space she kept.

Maybe she had forgotten something somewhere? Her license would have her name and address on it, but the salutation of Mrs. would be odd because how would the person know she was married? Unless she dropped something and they googled her? Her address was supposed to be unlisted but people had ways of searching public records.

She tore the end of the envelope open and out tumbled a CD in a jewel case. Her brow furrowed. Certainly not something she owned and left somewhere. Nothing was printed on the CD. She checked inside the envelope for any evidence of marketing material and found a folded piece of paper with a printed sentence:

Your husband is not who you think he is. He’s a fucking asshole.

Grace’s blood ran cold. 

Tim’s involved with something bad. That felt like the immediate and obvious thing. Tim worked in business and he was constantly trying to get ahead, always working upstream and feeling behind. It made sense that he might have taken what looked like help in a moment of difficulty and wound up in over his head with something. Or someone. He could be short-sighted, she’d always secretly thought that about him.

“Oh god please don’t let it be something illegal,” she murmured, hand shaking as she turned the CD over in her hand. Just how bad could it be? Extortion? Money-laundering? Murder? No. No, Tim wasn’t capable of murdering someone, what a ridiculous thought.

But dirty business, with the confidence he wouldn’t be caught….?

The fact was that in the moment, at just one sentence prompt from a mysterious source, Grace’s trust in her husband tumbled like a tower of toothpicks. Instead of debating who would be out to malign her husband, Grace fretted whether this CD was safe for her to look at, or if simply by seeing whatever was on here, she might become an accomplice. What if he’d already done things to implicate her? 

Grace was not going to prison for Tim!

Her heart pounded in her chest so painfully she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She set the CD quickly down on the counter and backed away, already contemplating whether she ought to wipe her fingerprints off. But no, no, it would make sense she opened an envelope addressed to herself. It didn’t mean she’d committed any crime–

And this didn’t mean Tim had either! She leaned against the counter and pressed her hand to her forehead.

Fuck, I’m a bad wife.

This was Tim, for fuck’s sake. He could be an asshole, the anonymous sender was right about that, but it didn’t mean he was doing anything illegal or dangerous or immoral. Probably this was some business thing, some colleague of his pissed about a move he’d made and trying to undermine him starting at home. 

…But what if it wasn’t?!

Grace’s family had been in possession of significant money for several generations. Old money. 19th century American money funded by 18th century European money. She’d been raised with warnings and stories, not paranoia but awareness that sometimes the presence of money made people think you were an easy victim. Maybe Tim wasn’t the target here, maybe she was. 

She grabbed her phone and placed a call and after only a few rings heard her father’s deep voice over the line, greeting, “Grace? What’s up, honeybell?”

“Hi Daddy, there’s a thing… it’s making me nervous so I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, realizing immediately how stupid she sounded. She should have pulled her thoughts together before calling.

“What’s the matter now? Something is what?” She could tell he was distracted over the line. Mid-day like this, he was probably out golfing, or at least at a friend’s house for the afternoon. Her dad was a creature of habit, an introvert who’d carved his safe places out over the decades they’d lived in Winnetka, Illinois. His days were predictable. 

“Sorry, Dad, I just got spooked. Someone left a weird envelope at my house with a CD and–”

“Wait, who did what now?” he interrupted. Grace felt the shudder across her shoulders at that tone in her father’s voice, even knowing it wasn’t aimed at her. He’d been casual before but pulled himself into lawyer mode in only an instant.

“I’m just being silly,” she began. That’s what her mother would say. Calling her dad, interrupting his afternoon plans, because someone left a CD on her porch and she was freaked even though she didn’t even know what was on it.

“Someone left something on your porch? What did they leave?”

“I don’t know, a CD and a printed note that says, um…” She grimaced. “It says my husband isn’t who I think he is.”

The line was silent for a moment. Grace’s father had grown to love Tim. He’d be pissed at slander aimed her husband’s direction. He’d be furious about baseless accusations.  

“You know who sent it? You know what’s on it?”

“No,” Grace said. “I called you right away.”

“Is Tim there?”

“He’s out of town.”

“All right, Grace, don’t touch a thing. Call Alan. Don’t do anything until Alan is there.”

Grace nodded as if he could see her and mused, “I don’t know whether I should call Tim. Maybe he has an idea–”

“Do not call Tim,” he interrupted. “Only Alan. Don’t talk to anyone else. He’ll bring a secure computer over to look at what’s on the CD and after that I want you to check into a hotel until this gets figured out. This person knows where you live and that your husband isn’t home–”

“So you think it’s something bad?”

“Well you do, don’t you, sweetheart? Calling me sounding like you’re having a heart attack.”

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably overreacting–”

“No such thing with our family.”

“But it’s not like Tim is actually a bad man. The CD is probably just… I don’t know. Something stupid. Someone’s just angry at him for something…”

Grace wanted to hear her dad agree that she was overreacting. His serious response escalated her fears. She’d wanted to be talked off the ledge and instead he was calling in a SWAT team and helicopter rescue.  

“Do as I say, Grace. Call Alan now and tell me when he’s there.”

Spooked, Grace did as he said. Within thirty minutes, Alan Theodorakos stood on her doorstep straightening his cuffs and adjusting his hair in the reflection of the one-sided mirror where a window used to be in the door. One of the family’s many lawyers, Alan had worked for Grace’s parents for many years before she moved to California; now, because of proximity, he’d served as Grace’s own legal counsel any time she’d needed it, even if just to oversee her affairs with specialized attorneys such as when she’d married and when they’d bought their house. Her father was a lawyer too, of course, but financial, and he never directly handled family matters himself anyway.

“Where is the CD?” he immediately asked when Grace welcomed him in. 

“I left it on the kitchen counter.” She showed him where the jewel case lay next to the printed note and the torn envelope, her name side up. Alan took a photo of all of it and Grace felt that tremor in her stomach again. If everyone was taking this so seriously, maybe she wasn’t taking it seriously enough!

Alan had with him a laptop, just as her dad had said he would. They made only the most polite small-talk as he set it up and, with gloves, removed the CD from the case and inserted it into the tray. Grace wrapped her arms around herself and paced back and forth, afraid to look, unable to look away. 

“It’s probably nothing,” she said to herself as much as to him. “I’m probably wasting your time, it’s just some disgruntled admin assistant or something…”

Alan didn’t have anything to say to that except, “Nothing is ever a waste of my time.” Because your family pays well, he didn’t need to say. Yes she’d wanted financial independence from her family, but legal counsel was one thing she let them fund, so sue me. Except don’t, please….

“It looks like there’s a video file,” Alan said, opening the CD. The filename was automated, generic. He double-clicked to pull it up and Grace held her breath, bracing herself for something. Perhaps her imagination was running away with her –this was very impractical, yes, when she usually prided herself on being a practical person– but her dad and Alan had her fearing the worst now. Kidnapping, torture, murder. At least a secret meeting discussing some money-laundering scheme that was going to land her in court for weeks defending her oblivious innocence as Tim’s spouse. I’m sorry, your honor, I’m a fool but I’m innocent.

“Let’s see,” Alan said and hit play.

And this was how Grace wound up watching a video of her husband fucking another woman while standing next to her father’s lawyer. 

Grace’s mouth hung open. Somehow she was shocked, even when the deepest part of her brain taunted her for being so surprised. It was recent; she saw the blue flower arrangement on the kitchen counter without even needing a time stamp. She didn’t recognize the woman, but she was young and beautiful and not Grace.

“I can stop the video,” Alan murmured, reaching forward but Grace brushed his hand away. She stared, eyes glued to the screen as her heart shattered. Or her mind. Something inside of her shattered.

Every criticism, every fight, every distracted dinner and missed date and complete lack of concern for anything she cared about flew in her face now. She’d loved Tim to distraction, even when he was unfair, even when he was unkind, even when he’d been a nobody before. And now he was doing this behind her back, as if she was nothing to him! In their own home! On her own fucking kitchen counter?! 

She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. But her upbringing trained her better than that. She turned a tight-lipped grimace to Alan and said,

“It turns out this is a private affair.” Affair. Terrible choice of words.

“Indeed,” Alan nodded. “I can provide legal counsel however you’d like to proceed.”

“For now I just need discretion…” How would she like to proceed…. Grace couldn’t fucking answer that! She still was having a hard time processing that Tim was fucking around on her. Tim! Tim, who was so focused on work and deals and dollar signs that he barely had time for her anymore, much less…. Except apparently he did!

“What would you like me to say to your father?” Alan prodded. 

Grace grimaced. There was no good answer. Her father paid Alan’s bills but he was here as her legal counsel. But if Alan gave her father a non-answer, he’d be calling her up for direct answers within minutes.

“I’ll call him,” she said, just to buy herself time. What was she going to say? It’s a private matter between Tim and I. Might as well put up a sign on the front lawn that her husband was cheating on her. And to admit that to her family! She couldn’t. There were exactly zero divorces in her family. If there had ever been infidelity, she sure didn’t know about it. A marriage was for life, and it was her job to make this marriage worked, even in the face of infidelity, especially after she’d defended this relationship so hard in the face of her family’s early concerns. God, they were going to think she was worse than an idiot!

“Very well.” Alan packed the CD back into the jewel case to leave with her, took his laptop, and bid her good day. With another offer to provide whatever help she needed, he was gone.

Grace stood alone in her kitchen and tried to make sense of this. Tim cheating. Someone filming it from within her property. Someone sending it for her to find. Some explanation she needed to give her father. A very painful conversation she needed to have with Tim without any understanding yet of what she wanted to have happen. Did she want him to grovel and apologize? Did she want the shame of being divorced and cheated on? What would her family say if she left? What would her family say if she stayed?

Grace sank down to the mat in front of the sink and tried to cry but she just felt numb. This couldn’t be real. She’d so carefully managed her life up until now. She had thought Tim was right there in the seat next to her. What was happening?!

In a brief moment of gumption, Grace called her dad and, before he could say a word, blurted out, “It turns out it’s a private matter between Tim and I. I’d rather not talk about it yet. Please don’t tell anyone else yet.” It was an impossible thing to ask, but she decided she’d try. 

A pause had her heart in her throat. She felt like so much hung in the balance: would her father defend her dignity or her marriage?

“Why don’t you and Tim come for a visit? I’d like to spend an afternoon golfing with him, man to man.”

Her marriage.

Grace said a quick goodbye before any pained sobs could escape, let her face drop to her bent knees, and tried to squeeze the tears back in. Like everything else in her life, it seemed, she failed.

The days were long this week in a way Jungkook didn’t like, but he’d picked up the extra lifeguarding hours because he needed the money. Haewon needed textbooks and that shit was expensive so he’d told her to ask him instead of their parents and then demanded to know why she wanted to be a lawyer so bad anyway. Political Science. Boring as fuck, he couldn’t believe how much money they were paying for her to be a leech. She always screeched at him when he teased her about it. He just wanted to keep her humble, that’s why he teased.

It had been hot as balls on the beach that morning and he’d been stuck near the wharf which sucked swamp ass because you had to actually do stuff: namely, chase people away when they swam too close to the pillars. Which everyone wanted to do, because there was shade, and just blowing your whistle wasn’t enough because suddenly people “couldn’t hear you” and “didn’t know the whistle meant they were doing something wrong.” So you had to drag your ass all the way over to yell at them, and then by the time you got back up to your chair, some other fucker was doing the same thing. Didn’t they look at the surf and the giant immovable objects and realize how easily the ocean could bash their puny brains out?! But if there was anything Jungkook had learned about tourists and teenagers both, it was that they had poor respect for the ocean. You had to respect the ocean. She was older and more powerful than you. Unconcerned with whether you lived or died. Sexy of her but annoying for lifeguards. 

He only had two pool cleans on his schedule today, which meant an easier afternoon before band practice tonight, so he should still have energy to fight with Taro about how they shouldn’t add more 00s rock to their regular set just because they’d managed to come in second place in that competition. The first pool was an easy job, and the second was the one he both looked forward to and dreaded the most: The Birches. 

This time last week, he’d chickened out dropping the envelope off, only to go back and do it later that day when the guilt ate at him. Now he wished he’d waited until the end of the season in two weeks so he wouldn’t have to see them again for a while; while most people kept their heated pools running year-round here, the Birches closed theirs at the end of summer so he was almost free of them. He’d never understood why. It was heated and this was southern Cali. He’d be swimming in that baby 365 days a year. 

But he’d dropped the envelope and sprinted away and today would be the first opportunity to see if the bomb he dropped had done any damage. It gave him a nervous twitch, because what if he’d done the wrong thing? What if they knew it was him? 

What if he was going to get arrested as soon as he showed up?!

Still he went, because he wasn’t someone to turn away from an unpleasant task, no matter how scary. And he needed to get paid. Maybe nobody would be there again, like last week…

The garage was closed but he glimpsed three cars through the windows after he’d parked in the driveway –Mr. Birch hated that. Well Jungkook hated douchebags who cheated on their wives. And walking further to get to the pool than he had to after lifeguarding all morning. 

The missing car was Mr. Birch’s. Jungkook felt his skin tingle but ignored it, uninterested in nerves. Instead he prepared himself to knock on the back door, per usual, so Mrs. Birch would know he was here and unfortunately not accidentally walk out in revealing clothing–

Except Mrs. Birch was in the pool. In the pool. Jungkook froze like a bank burglar just inside the pool gate as her faked-blonde head surfaced from the water. Her eyes remained closed as she pushed her hair back, water droplets spraying as she panted for breath, emphasizing her collarbones and long neck. 

Fuck. Fuck! Red alert! 

Jungkook just stared as she grabbed the edge of the pool to hold herself steady as she swiped the water from her face. She looked tired, out of breath, like she’d been swimming hard for a while, not just lounging around for a dip.

Is she the swimmer then? Jungkook didn’t find it surprising at all to learn this about her but it made him happy, like this somehow confirmed she was the good person he’d always thought she was. Of course she was the swimmer. They both loved the water. And damn did she look good doing it, even just bobbing there as she pushed her hair back from her shoulders. 

White bathing suit.

Jesus Christ, Jungkook was going to hit the deck. His brain attempted to save him without thinking through the consequences: he cleared his throat. It was rude. It was out of line. It wasn’t at all what he’d meant to do but someone had pulled the fire alarm in his head and that was the result. 

Mrs. Birch spun quickly to face him, clearly started, and gasped, “Oh! Shit!”

The fantasy that hadn’t even begun to spin yet –that she had done this on purpose for him– died in its cradle. 

“I’m so sorry, is it– are you early?” she asked. Her bare face looked at him with such surprise and alarm that he actually felt too bad to ogle her the way he wanted to. 

“Ah, um… I don’t… think so,” he mumbled. Actually he was later than usual but he didn’t want to argue with her. “I can come back later?” He couldn’t, it was already late afternoon. Well, he could. He would! If she wanted him to.

“No no, I’m sorry, let me get out of your way.” 

He watched with a semi he’d deny to his grave as she gracefully swam to the ladder and pulled herself up like a fucking centerfold. It was a one piece, he realized with no disappointment because the cutouts at the side showed smooth waist and water streamed down her bare shoulderblades and exposed back– but fuck he couldn’t tell if the tattoo was there or not, the bottom rose too high over her ass. She almost caught him staring when she turned to wrap the towel she’d set on the lounge chair, except his brain had leapt immediately to nipple patrol–

Fuck! He didn’t get a good look as his brain caught up with his stare and he immediately averted his eyes, leaving her to cover herself with the towel not under his blown-out gaze. Shit! He was around hot chicks in bathings suits all the time! Why now did his brain decide to run away….

“I completely lost track of time. Um…” She paused and then gestured to the pool with one hand as if to tell him to carry on, then fled into the house.

Jungkook just stood there for a moment. He’d never seen Mrs. Birch –or anyone for that matter– in the pool before, though legend said they used it, at least for parties sometimes. He felt a sense of pride now to know she really did, and that she looked so damn good in it. He sauntered to the edge to survey his work and felt his satisfaction grow further at the confirmation that he kept this pool in good shape. It looked great right now. He wouldn’t have to do much today, clean the filters, maybe nothing else. Now he felt bad to have chased her off. He could have done that while she kept swimming. He wouldn’t mind. 

Damn. He was going to be thinking about this for a long time.

White bathing suit, huh? 

He grabbed the outdoor trash and some gloves to get to work on the filters, in the hopes he could wrap it up quickly and she could slide right back in. But just as he was finishing up, she reappeared from the house in loose lounge clothes with her hair piled up on top of her head and a bamboo tray with his drink and snacks in her hands.

“You didn’t have to,” he called to her, “I won’t be long today. Pool looks good. Are you using it a lot lately?”

Her head tilted as she set the tray down and asked, “Yes, I’ve been out here every day lately. You can tell?”

It was mostly a lie as he shrugged, “If you’re swimming a lot, the motion sends the detritus into the filters. If no one’s swimming, it sits on top.” Detritus. Haewon had used that word a couple weeks ago and he’d latched onto it because it sounded more professional than shit.

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

She glanced at the pool and he got the feeling something was bothering her. Which made sense, considering the whole bomb on her doorstep thing, now that his head had cleared enough to remember that. For a moment he thought she knew it was him and was going to ask him about it. Of course she’d figure it out, she seemed smart, or he’d missed something obvious in covering his tracks…

“Well I won’t bother you while you finish.”

“You’re not a bother,” he assured her. Her smile was small and didn’t reach her eyes as she turned to go. He reached for the drink out of obligation, because really he didn’t have anything more to do but he couldn’t just leave the things she’d brought for him sitting there. It felt unappreciative. Also it was free.

She must be hot in the long-sleeved lounge top, although the fabric was thin. The shorts rode high, showing off her thighs as she headed back towards the house. He realized she could see his reflection in the windows and squinted to look out over the pool as if he was lost in thought when she suddenly stopped walking, hand on the door. 

When she turned, arms sliding across to sort of hold herself, Jungkook felt that nervous flutter. Oh no. Busted staring at her ass. Caught. He felt like a kid again, he’d fucked up and it was time to get in trouble. He gave into the urgent need to have his hands full, so he popped open the bag of chips and shoveled a handful into his mouth as she came back.

“Hey,” she said, voice softer and less certain than he’d ever heard her before. Her whole body seemed to curl in on itself miserably, a far cry from the way she’d pushed up from the pool half an hour ago. “I just wanted to ask you– when you were here last time, did you happen to see anyone drop off something? On my front porch?”

His eyes went wide. He chomped down, accidentally getting his cheek too, and cursed as he pressed his finger to the outside of it. She just watched him and he realized with a burst of paranoia how fucking guilty he looked. He sucked at lying. He was terrible at lying, especially when he really was guilty as shit!

“Oh, um…” he fumbled, swallowing the Cheetos down and licking the residue off his finger. He licked his lips nervously, feeling like there was orange powder there too. “From back here? What package?” Playing stupid was better than outright lying, even if saying he’d seen someone else do it would probably do a better job of getting him out of the hot seat. 

She shifted her weight and chewed on the inside of her cheek, exactly where he’d just accidentally bitten on his own, and this similarity sent another wave of guilt rolling over him. He was lying to her. Fuck. Was he any better than Mr. Birch?! Shitothy Smirch? Eh, not his best work for taunting names….

“Ok, if you didn’t see anything… I just thought…” A cascade of emotions crossed her face, so raw and unpoised compared to the normally polite and neutral look she had with him, that Jungkook felt himself chipping further apart. She looked miserable, her face even redder than it had been just getting out of the pool. “Someone left an orange envelope for me,” she said. Fuck, were her eyes watering?!!? “I don’t know who but I’m trying to find out who so I can talk to them about it before–”

“It was me,” he blurted out as he suddenly realized how fucking scary this must be for her. “I left the envelope and I’m really sorry–”

He cut off as Mrs. Birch started to cry. Not quite burst into tears the way he might have expected, but she drew in a shaky breath and the tears he’d suspected managed to sneak out and she pressed her hands to her face.

The impulse to reach for her was hard to deny but he did. Obviously he couldn’t touch this woman he barely knew and whose marriage he’d just exposed as a sham. Plus he had Cheeto dust on his fingers and her clothes were light colored. He’d done enough already! It would be wrong! But it was hard to watch her upset and not comfort her.

“I’m sorry,” he said again in desperation. “I swear I’m not trying be a dick or anything, I just thought you should know.”

He saw her draw air in like strength and push her hands back through her hair, fortifying herself, before demanding with a strong expression that didn’t match the tears on her cheek, “So you filmed it and left an anonymous package on my porch?”

He pulled back, defenses instantly activated. Fuck. Had he misjudged? Had she already known? Did she not care? Fuck! All his friends had told him not to get involved but he’d wanted to be this hero and now he’d really fucked himself.

“I, uh, I thought you should know,” he stammered again. “But maybe you wouldn’t want anyone else to know? I wasn’t going to blackmail him or anything. It’s private for you so I didn’t want to blow up your spot–”

“But obviously someone knew, the person who took the video! And I didn’t know who it was until I watched the security footage and then I thought it was you but–”

“Ah I thought I had my hat on low enough…” he mumbled.

She gave him a baffled look and pointed out, “You still look and walk like yourself– but I didn’t know if I was wrong or who was filming from inside my backyard and it was just really scary…” She trailed off and suddenly sat down on the lounge chair, threatening to upend the bamboo tray. She covered her face again. She took another of those deep bracing breaths.

“Shit, I’m really sorry scared you,” he said, sinking onto the second one to face her.  “I just felt bad about it.”

“Why?! You weren’t fucking someone else in our–” She broke herself off and that spark of rage tossed him around another loop. He didn’t know her, he didn’t know her emotional processes, he didn’t know how she was handling this thing he’d opened her eyes too, and yet he felt unavoidably anchored here with her in this moment. How would he handle this in her shoes? He sure didn’t know, but he thought he’d do an even worse job of holding himself together.

“Yeah but I didn’t mean to scare you. I just thought you should know your husband is a fucking piece of shit.” The words rolled out without any hesitation because he was.

But it brought Mrs. Birch up short. She looked shocked, as if she somehow hadn’t realized what the video showed, and for a moment he forgot she had just referenced it and worried she hadn’t actually watched and he’d just done exactly what he had hoped to avoid: verbally give her this news. Instead she blinked slowly at him. 

He meant to say sorry if that was too blunt but what actually came out was, “You deserve better than that.” He wasn’t actually sorry about that.

“Like you?”

“Wait, what?!” he cried, and jumped to his feet and stepped back so quickly he tripped on the lounger and fell onto his ass, tangled up in his own sandals. “No! I– what? I don’t have anything to do with this! I just–”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped this time, and covered her face again. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I just…”

He’d scraped his palm in the fall; she didn’t seem to have even noticed that he did something so fucking clownish. Everything was all fucked up right now, she was all fucked up he understood now. That’s why she seemed all over the place.  

“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Look, I swear I don’t have any shitty motives.” He eased back onto the lounger, ignoring the burn of his hand. “I didn’t want to get involved with your personal business. I just couldn’t believe he’d do that to you and I didn’t think you’d believe me if I just told you so I… but yeah, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Her voice was barely a whisper as she lowered her hands, eyes on her knees, “I would have believed you.”

“Damn.” He stopped himself from saying more. But damn that was a bad marriage if you’d believe your poolguy that your husband was banging someone else without even providing proof. She must have already known then that she’d married an asshole. That made him both very happy (Mrs. Birch is not like him!) and very sad for her (Mrs. Birch is married to someone who doesn’t deserve her!)

Watching her struggle to compose herself was distressing. He wished she would just cry it out hard. She’d feel better and he’d feel better too. Instead it was like watching her hurt herself further trying to keep the tears locked in when they so obviously wanted to come out. 

“Who else did you show that video to?” she asked, gaze lifting to meet his. Her words sounded fiercer than her face looked, though her expression was still sort of scary. Sharp. “Or tell about… this?”

“No one,” he said, hoping a quick response would hide that it wasn’t entirely true. “Who would I tell? Why? I don’t even like knowing about it and I don’t know anyone who knows you–”

“You didn’t like upload it to the internet or– Reddit or something–”

“Fuck, no.” The goodwill he’d felt after she had said she’d have believed him evaporated and he felt as scummy as her cheating husband. “I don’t post that kind of shit anyway but even– I would never do that to you. Why would I do that–”

“I don’t know, for money, for clout, for revenge because Tim has been rude to you–”

Jungkook pushed to his feet as the heat rose in his cheeks, tingling up his neck. Apparently she’d believe him that her husband was cheating but not his own promise that he wasn’t blackmailing anyone. That she thought so lowly of him was the bullet through every last fantasy he’d harbored. No one had ever thought so badly of him as Mrs. Birch apparently did. Except maybe Mr. Birch.

“I said I wasn’t blackmailing,” Jungkook grumbled and turned to go because there was nothing else to say here.

Her hand suddenly on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks; she had leapt up and caught him quickly.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, it’s just… you wouldn’t be the first person who realized they could use something like this against my family.”

“Your family?” He made a face, ignoring the hiccup in his chest at her fingers curled against his arm. Just as quickly she let go. “I don’t know anything about your family and I don’t care. I just wanted to let you know in case you didn’t, that’s it.”

It was like she hadn’t heard a word he said and continued, “And just think about it from my perspective. This is a private matter that I want to handle privately.”

“Well I’m not telling anyone,” he huffed, frustrated by the ongoing accusations.

“Do you still have the video? Will you delete it in front of me?”

“I already deleted it,” he said, but still fished out his phone. “You think I wanted that on my phone? It’s in my trash.”

“Yeah but will you permanently delete it? Please? I’m sorry I insulted you, I’m just… stressed right now.”

He paused, phone unlocked, showing a picture of the beach behind his apps. It softened the edge of her accusation to be reminded that the inciting incident of all of this was learning that her husband was cheating on her and the pool tech knew. That sucked. From her perspective, if he was in her shoes, he’d be hurt and distrustful too. She was just upset. 

“I get it,” he told her. “No problem, you can watch me permanently delete it.” He opened up the ‘Recently Deleted’ folder on his phone as she leaned in to look, only for his stomach to cramp as he discovered just how many deleted selfies filled the rows ahead of the video. No dick pics thank fuck but still, it was embarrassing for her to see three rows of him posing in the bathroom without a shirt –he’d been trying to get a good one for his dating profile, ok?--, and he tried to cover them subtly with his fingers as he quickly tapped the video and then ‘Permanently Delete’ before it could begin to play. Too late did he realize how close she was standing, and that she smelled like something fresh and clean and mildly floral, and that her loose top had slid down her shoulder.

She pulled away and crossed her arms and nodded as she said, “Thank you.” She must have seen the photos but didn’t give any sign of it.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“I mean for telling me, too. I know it’s… awkward. It’s easier to mind your own business when it’s something uncomfortable but I’m glad that I know now. So thank you for telling me but now please forget that you know.”

“Yeah of course, I don’t know anything. I hope you get to keep your house in the divorce and I’ll keep the pool looking great.” He meant it as a joke, kind of. He was serious about it, but he hoped the tone shift could free them both from this moment that was even beyond awkward. Sustained emotionality wore him out. Guarding the wharf was easier than this for sure.

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” she said with utmost seriousness, with a shake of her head as if the idea was an annoying fly buzzing in her ear.

“Uh… what? How can you not know? The guy’s cheating on you, so leave his ass and wring him dry in the divorce,” he scoffed. As if he knew all about it! But it was just such an obvious next step, he couldn’t fathom she would do anything else. Good riddance to the fuckwad!

The effect on her was immediate: her hands dropped and she leaned away and got this scowl on her face that would have been sexy as hell if she hadn’t been almost defending that guy.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple.”

“It’s not. Marriage is complicated, especially one like ours, it’s not always easy and–”

“Well he pissed on that marriage when he started fucking other people, didn’t he?”

“How dare you?” The sexiness evaporated from her glare as it hardened, as his own words caught up to him.

“Fuck, sorry, I know it’s not my business–” He held his hands up, choosing to apologize even though in his gut he wanted to say more. See? He was bad at this! He really just wanted to comfort her and instead he was fucking it up because he just couldn’t stand to hear her insist there was anything salvageable about that wad of snot.

“You’re right, it’s not. Thank you for telling me about what’s going on but that’s where your judgment ends. You don’t know anything about us or our life or–”

“You’re right, I don’t. I do know he’s a piece of shit though and that you deserve better.”

“And how many times have you been married, since you’re such an expert on marital conflict–”

“Zero times,” he answered. “But when I do get married, I sure won’t treat my wife the way that asshole treats you. You’ve been apologizing for his shit since I started cleaning your pool and I may be just the pool guy but I see all kinds of people and I know a piece of shit when I see one. Whatever you think is worth staying married to him for, you’re wrong. That’s all I know. So whatever, you can report me to my boss and I can have someone else come clean your pool now or whatever but yeah, you’re better off without him.”

“Well thank you for not leaving that sage wisdom in a cryptic package on my doorstep this time,” she snapped. 

Jungkook knew he’d gone too far. He’d stepped completely into their bullshit. He couldn’t help it! He was typically slow to erupt but good luck once he got going, and he was going now, because this was the 21st century and a woman didn’t need to stay with a fucker like that for anything! And to stand there and have her possibly saying thanks for telling me but I’m going to stay with him, I don’t mind him treating me like gum on his shoe– how was he supposed to silently endorse that! 

He was too worked up to think of anything to say back so he just said, “Yeah, you’re welcome. You deserve better.” It was a stupid thing to sound so angry saying. He’d think of something better int he shower later. 

“Why, because I give you snacks while you clean our pool? You don’t know anything about me or what kind of person I am, JK. Maybe I did deserve this.”

“No way.”

“But you don’t know!”

If he hadn’t already known it in his gut, he knew it was true now, as the anger on her face wavered and he saw, just for one brief moment, raw grief. For one moment she had that look that in the movies makes a guy take up his sword and march off to war or whatever. She looked like a vulnerable, hurting person, not some rich caricature of a human, and that was exactly why he had stepped into this so far and couldn’t even regret it even if he knew he was making an ass of himself.

Just as quickly it was mostly gone, all except a soft, downward turn of her mouth. She had color on her lips which struck Jungkook as a little strange to have put on after the pool but he supposed Mrs. Birch wanted to always be put together. It was not a helpful train of thought –I could undo her combined with but she’s so sad right now and trying to hide it, isn’t she?-- and he looked away. He didn’t know what else to say. He wasn’t used to this kind of dramatic exchange. He didn’t have stamina for it. Usually if he was fighting with a woman he just let her say her peace and then she left and that was the end, there were only a few times he really got into it.

But telling Mrs. Birch she ought to divorce her husband was worth it.

“I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore,” she admitted with a deep, tired sigh. “I need to go. Thank you for bringing all of this to my attention, but please, forget everything.”

“You got it, boss,” he mumbled. It was awkward. He felt deflated now.

She wasn’t going to leave her husband. That’s what he’d just learned. And the idea that a good woman would stay with a shitty man just flooded him with despair. Romance was dead, marriage was a sham, and there was no justice. His dad had divorced his mom and there were even kids involved, so what did Mrs. Birch think made it so impossible for her? But he didn’t feel like saying that to her now. He felt like he’d just burned what minor threads had connected them, and maybe it had been necessary in order for her to know about her husband, but selfishly he wondered now if it had been worth it. If she wasn’t even going to leave him, maybe she wished Jungkook had just kept his mouth shut. Maybe he should have.

“JK, I…”

He’d never know what she was going to say because after a grimace rolled across her face, she turned and went inside. Leaving him to finish the job he was paid to do, cleaning the fucking pool.

Chapter One | Masterlist | Chapter Three

[power-chords]

Some Miami Vice Thots*:

Big Screen, I Notice More Stuff: That club is called MANSION. Linkin Park (from Agoura Hills, or what seems to me to be the Westchester, NY of the San Fernando Valley — Californians please correct me if I'm wrong), mashed up with Jay-Z (a Black billionaire from the mean streets of Bed-Stuy, the New New Gatsby/Big Joe Turner). Relevant to bullet point immediately below.

According to Michael Mann Miami in the mid-aughts is Age of Discovery (Digital Edition) meets Crime Family Feudalism in recursive recurrence, multiple timelines and identities inhabiting the same geographic vectors (everyone is always forever in motion). The very first interaction Sonny has with someone who is not a team member is a bartender who says she is from Lisboa, to which Sonny replies, "But you got your tan in Miami." This is what I read: She's the "reformed" Portuguese equivalent of the character in this Butch Walker song. She came from money, she lost it perhaps, but she's been since... repossessed? There's a more sinister interpretation under the surface, since she is under the roof of a powerful (and possibly related) employer whose business operations require unwavering loyalty + utmost discretion in exchange for protection (which in this case is also exploitation). Tan, in other words, as a form of Midas touch. Sacrifice to a sun(/SON!!!) god (or is Sonny more of a defecting Samson figure, speaking to an inert "Neon" Delilah who will only feign at seduction/betrayal, moving through the moves?). So already these two characters are speaking in code to each other, which is an amazing storytelling device on Mann's behalf, and you can shake so much out of that.

Derived from the above: "My Mommy and Daddy know me," hilarious line btw, becomes double-doublespeak, quadruple-speak! Not only is he pretending to tell the truth under a fabricated fundamental, the statement itself is yet another subtextual lie. His parents don't really know him, they just thought they did, which is why he's run off to become what he's become. Rico is the partner who acts out of duty first, love secondarily; Sonny is the Byronic inverse. Diaspora southern gothic. I like to think this is the mythic re-interpretation/inspiration Mann wishes a certain American population would draw from, in lieu of... current political/pop cultural figureheads.

Gina tenderly comforting the injured Zito... this shot is seconds long and yet captures my heart every time! Where is the backstory fic for these two!

Once again, the Rico/Trudy sex scene is a definite contender for the most affectionate, respectful, and sensual one in Hollywood history

Oh, Isabella. My girl Isabella. I overheard someone in the lobby call this film "such a guy movie." I don't know what drugs these people are on. Especially when counterpart to the hypermasculine satirical camp is the sensitivity and sympathy with which Mann portrays the situation of women, how we are exploited either way/anyway, deprived of romantic trust/human partnership by being put at risk by men and also by them denied the agency of taking risks for ourselves. There's both heartbreak and hypocrisy in how she attacks Sonny at the end, screaming "Who are you!" (The audience's heartbreak is: We have an instinctive uneasy sense of the systems that force her, and the rest of us, to live as hypocrites. Who are any of us, anymore, really!)

I was like MICHAEL DO THE GARMENTO CRIME DRAMA W/ ME and he was like "I made Miami Vice already, dummy! Pay attention!" Me: "OK!!!" [Pays a visit to Auerbach's Keller in Grand Central Terminal and then stays up until 5 AM playtesting West Village: Walpurgisnacht/watching the Chicago & Miami Postmodern Pseudepigrapha about Non-Recourse Factoring]

The "color coding" in this film is bonkers. More on that eventually, I'm still chewing on it.

The duality of Man(n)ager: the tragic pathos imbued to Alonzo vs. the vaudevillian coercion of Nicholas. "Why is this happening to me?!" cracks me the fuck up. This most powerful, literally biblical quandary of them all, the whole of Mann's filmography boiled down to its most singular and direct (I.E., truthful) expression, in the form of a persecuted exclamation, and it's played for laughs. Because what can you do except laugh! It's Job(/lowercase job) as circus performance, as a cabaret act. Job's poetry parodied into factional slogans and Shandyan-American dick jokes. I can't believe people think this is a stupid movie, it's pretending to be stupid!!!

*The appropriate spelling for this film in particular

[wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever]

Everyone talks like you either believe in redemption or you don't when it comes to villain redemption critiques. But the the thing is as a Christian who believes in redemption for all, I still have a lot against the way villain redemption is treated these days, and it has a lot to do with how redemption is treated biblically vs how everyone likes this gray hero thing. And yeah, I know y'all are going to point out my love of anti-heroes, and we will get back to that. But basically, what I dislike is when we got this villain, they don't change how they act, they feel no remorse for their past actions, but "hey they're on our side now! so it's all good! :D" In christianity that is called a wolf in sheeps clothing, we are told not to even eat with such a one. We are evil wretched and poor yes, but redemption isn't an excuse to keep being evil, it is a call to "go and sin no more". So if your villain doesn't repent and at least try to live more like a hero than a villain, then I am not going to call that a redeemed villain, I am going to say our heroes have no back bone, and now question their morality, and their ability to fight for justice, because they have none within themselves. So now why do I like the anti-heroes and redeemed villains I do? So lets start with an anti-hero like Jason Todd, why he works is that his whole deal is about this exact conscept, he can not stand that certain individuals keep getting let back into the public because they "are bettering themselves" when they so obviously have not, there are "whole graveyards" of proof that they are not. The question is not about the righteousness of Jason's goal but in whether he is going too far in thinking the only way to remove these criminals is through death/manipulation. It's an important thing to ponder whether you can take justice too far, and judge that within yourself. A good anti-hero does that, raise questions on what is good and what is evil, and where we aught to draw the line, and where the line is already drawn, but maybe is taking things too far. Then we have redeemed villains, I going to use the over used and use Zuko as my redeemed villain. Where I feel people get his arc wrong is in saying that the show, showed him as "having goodness already inside him" when that isn't really accurate, what it does do, is start him out as already questioning good and evil, honorable and dishonorable. Yes we see parts of his childhood where he appears "innocent" but I feel that is a missreading of those scenes, where I would say that what we are seeing is him ruminating on both the justice and injustice he'd witnessed in his life and making or trying to make a decision about who is right in them. That is key to us coming round to him being a hero, that is him learning remorse. Then lastly is his actions in the last half of season three, from the moment he leaves the palace onward, everything he does is the opposite of what season one him would do, he trains the avatar so the fire nation can not have him, brings justice for the water tribe as best as he can, and lastly goes absolutely feral when he thinks that the gaang is just going to let the fire nation win/the Earth Kingdom be destroyed. He proves with his whole being season one him/villain him is dead, and the person he is now is someone completely different, he is redeemed. If you want me to be okay with your villain working with your heroes do that, truly redeem them, don't just make them sexy.

[draconicfool]

A Snake in the Garden of Roses

The first visit had been a surprise, truly. The voice outside of his window which brought his attention away from the music. His previous movements of the bow stopping as those pointed ears flicked. Swiveled towards the window directly behind him. As if to make sure that he truly had heard something. Someone, in fact. When the voice didn't repeat itself, Shoi-Ming had been content to bring the violin back under his chin. Bow read to drag along strings and just as he was about to begin again, he heard it.

"Why do you play such sad songs?"

A question he hadn't heard before. Really most questions were ones he hadn't heard. For Lài Shoi-Ming, the current Mons Grandis, was very rarely asked anything. Very rarely allowed outside of his house in his later years. And he had not thought very much about why he played what he did. At first, he thought, it had been for the Cloud Knights lost to the Abundance Wars. For the Foxians who would never return home.

But over time it had become something else entirely, he thought. Those low, somber notes which the people of the Yuque had come to expect nightly. Why did he play them again?"

"Well...I suppose because I am quite sad. Though I find...that is not a thought I have had in centuries...I believe I was sadder when I was younger. But the Preceptors seemed quite happy when I was sad. So I learned to stop showing them that I was sad...at least with aught else than the music I play. It is the only comfort that I have now."

And for another moment there was silence. As if the voice on the other side was contemplating the answer that it was given. Shoi-Ming, for once, did not mind the silence. It wasn't heavy and thick with judgement. It was light and it was curious. But, then came the issue that the voice was silent. And it was gone. That once smooth voice that had been there, no longer continuing this little questioning of its. A shame, then, the High Elder thought. For a moment, he'd felt a little less lonely in his gilded cage.

As another day came to pass, the small High Elder would again sit by that window as he always did. Not expecting for there to be a visitor at his window again. But surely, as he began to draw the bow across well-maintained strings, his ears would flick back towards the window. And he would stop. And he would listen.

"Why are you sad?"

Now there was a question. Why was Shoi-Ming sad? Their grip on the delicately carved wood tightened slightly. Wrapped around the neck of his violin as those amethyst eyes stared down at the strings. Why? Why was Mons Grandis always crying?

"...I suppose- because I cannot go outside anymore, like when I was younger. I used to have...a garden I quite enjoyed playing in. But I no longer get to leave this 'palace' aside from when my duties call. And then...I suppose I get sad because of my duties. For the lives that have to end at my hands. I know that they must be taken, it's for the good of the people- the safety of my people...but to end the life of another feels quite wrong. My predecessor used to say to me that all life was precious. I- think I've given you two very different answers and maybe that is quite annoying, but it is the only thing I can remember how to feel..."

Just as before, the Vidyadhara sat there for a moment. Waiting for any response or show that he had been heard. But then, he supposed that the question today had been related to the answer he'd given yesterday. So that meant his visitor outside the window had to be listening, right? Perhaps then they didn't mind so much that he rambled. But the High Elder found he really would've quite preferred if his visitor were the one speaking. If he could listen to the low, velvety purr of their voice. Or perhaps it wasn't a purr at all. It was more like a hissing. But all the same it sounded sort of like music to him.

And when he found the voice wasn't speaking, he would try and replicate their tones on his violin. But the instrument was much too high, and very much not made to mimic a voice.

Yet again the next day as he sat down by that window, he would go to raise his violin. And again, they would speak to him.

"Then why is it your duty?"

Why was it...to be his duty? That wasn't something he had ever asked. Not something he'd ever thought was his to be allowed to ask. It was a fanciful dream for children who did not grow up knowing what their purpose was. A dream for species who did not dream of their past lives. Who did not have previous incarnations to guide them.

"...because I am Mons Grandis...and it is my duty to watch over the people of the Xianzhou Yuque. I am Ponderer of the Congealed Silence and the one bound to watch over the Fallow Earth. There is no other who can take my duties...none who could do that which needs to be done by me."

For a moment, he was quiet. And he was sure that the voice had gone. But- even still, as his tail wrapped around his legs, he would continue to speak.

"For the happiness and prosperity of my people...I would suffer even greater misfortune I think...that is my duty- to carry that which they cannot..."

Even if he was certain they had gone before he finished. He wanted to finish the thought. And that was what mattered.

But what Shoi-Ming did not know, was how interesting his visitor would find that answer. For to them the answer to a life which brought you naught but misery was to be remedied with chasing your own happiness.

Come the next night, he would sit by that window with his violin, and he would wait. And when eventually he heard that voice like velvet, he would perk up. Excited, he supposed, to speak to the one person who had so easily become a part of his nightly routine.

"Why can they not?"

And then, for once, Shoi-Ming was silent. For the first time in the four nights this voice had come to visit and ask questions. Why couldn't the people carry the burdens that he did? The Fallow Earth was easy enough, they did not have the means to-. But their struggles...their heartache. The wicked that needed punishing. Why did that fall to him?

He didn't know. Couldn't possible know.

That lack of answer seemed to make the visitor curious. As they instead, asked another.

"...Try this one instead, then: who made it so?"

The sudden reassurance in their tone was surprising. Even though the High Elder had found a comfort in a new voice, he couldn't deny that he'd been getting interrogated by it essentially. But he had never been treated kindly before. So perhaps- perhaps that softness felt like warmth.

And perhaps that warmth felt like what he'd read in fairy tales.

"...the Preceptors- from long ago. There is...a hunger in me, that I do not understand- that nobody does. So to feed that hunger...it is my job to punish the wicked. For I am- I was made quite differently it seems...than any of the others. Whatever Aeon has touched me...they have made it so I am to be the final executioner of my people..."

Not the final say, but the executor of the will of the judges. Of the Ten-Lords Commission. It was for Eros to take care of. To make those deemed wicked enough see the end of their days.

That was his duty.

By this night, the High Elder had come to expect the visitor. But he would still play that violin by the window. As if it was a secret language all their own. A prelude to the conversation. For once, those somber notes and languid melodies seemed a little brighter. A little sweeter.

And then came the questions.

"What is so hard to understand about hunger? If you must eat, why not eat somewhere else?"

This one...brought a little pout to the Vidyadhara's face. Not that they were aware if the other could see. But his lower lip would jut out slightly as he puffed up his cheeks. Not a face he had pulled since he was several centuries younger.

"I cannot just leave my people, dear visitor. If I left, there would be none to watch over the Fallow Earth. The Congealed Silence would be unchecked. They could find different ways to deal with their prisoners, of that I am sure- but they could not seal the Plague Authors mark...and that would cause terrible damage to the people of the entire Xianzhou, not just the Yuque."

Unbeknownst to the High Elder, his answer this time seemed to please the voice of his visitor. And rather than leave, there would be ever so slowly, the body of a snake, wrapping itself around the bars of his window. And then, that creature would lower itself into his room. Head so dangerously close to his ear. And those amethyst eyes would flick over. Jumping slightly.

Startled. But calmed as he seemed to gather some recognition. So it had been a snake that had been talking to him. And even more curious, that snake would slither its way into a corner just out of sight. Barely lit by the dim ambience of the room they were in. And their silhouette would shift and grow.

And Shoi-Ming would watch curiously from his seated spot on the floor. His violin set to the side as he watched the figure of another step forward. Humanoid- a Shadow Guard.

The little High Elder would get up too. Awestruck by the sight in front of him.

"...like one of the princes from the stories..." His tail absently beginning to wag. And on perhaps instinct, he would reach up. Black-tinted fingers cupping their cheeks. Fingers running along the soft skin. As if he were surprised such a being could come from a snake.

For a moment, the two stood there together. Quiet.

The snake that had managed to worm its way into the garden.

The dragon who kept watch over that sacred earth.

Only three words between them, then.

"Show me, then."

[focusontheheart]

Meet the Team Lead - rootsoot

Give a hearty hello to the wonderfully eloquent rootsootriot (@elsodex), the Lead for the Alva route! You can also find him on Youtube and Twitch @ rootsootriot

My name is Jax, but on the interwebs I go by Rootsoot. I’m a professional IT engineer, amateur video editor and writer who may or may not be a muppet in a human suit. And before you ask, yes, those two quests in Forbidden West with Jaxx are really funny for me and my irl friends to play, go ahead. Laugh. One of my greatest influences as a storyteller was Farscape, a little show that was sort of like the Velvet Underground of early aughts science fiction, alongside the likes of Akira Kurosawa, Terry Prachett and Guillermo del Toro. If I can capture even a glimmer of what made their works so enjoyable for me, then hopefully you’re in for a fun ride with this little story.

Q&A with Jax/ rootsoot below the cut!

What is a favorite piece of work you've done (completed/ working on/ in-concept)?

I actually don’t have a whole lot of fandom works, but I got some WILD stuff planned for my current Horizon fic A Plague of Locusts so, I’ll go with that?

What are some of your favorite tropes (to read/ write/ draw)?

I love epics, that’s less of a trope and more of a genre but there you have it. Tropes that I enjoy include but are not limited to: playing Cyrano, fake marriage, and outlaw couples

What is an unexpected thing or fun fact about you?

I have two undergrad degrees from a silly ol’ research university, and I can translate Biblical Hebrew. So what I’m saying is, I’m the best trained shabbos goy you’ll ever meet.

What has been your favorite thing about working on this project so far?

There are some amazingly talented people working on this–some with no prior experience–who are creating professional level stuff. Seeing what can be accomplished when you have the willpower to see it through is really inspiring.

[thenationaltreasuregazette]

May I preemptively request a part 4 to the examination of Ben and Abigail's relationship in which they are compared to Patrick and Emily's relationship?

Should Abigail Leave Ben? Part 4: Adrenaline and Tequila

@emmi-kat, you may! And thank you so much for the question.

In Part 1 and Part 2, I argued that National Treasure devoted significant screen time within the setup of the heist to also set up Ben and Abigail as a compatible romantic pairing, and that it was critical that they do this before Abigail joins the treasure hunt, otherwise their relationship would seem like a knee-jerk reaction to going through the trauma of the plot together, and not much more than that.

In Part 3, we discussed how National Treasure: Book of Secrets swings around and insists that their reaction actually is only a knee-jerk reaction to almost dying on treasure hunts together, and no matter how badly Ben behaves, Abigail will take him back after a near death experience. Yippy-do.

As I’ve ranted about/alluded to, I don’t think BoS is an effective sequel to the first movie, especially on a character front. However, if we are examining Ben and Abigail’s relationship in that movie, you’re are absolutely right, we would be remiss to not compare their relationship to that of Ben’s parents.

As I explored here, the first movie seems to imply that Ben’s mother is dead, but Book of Secrets makes two key character decisions that drive most of the drama in the story:

Ben’s mom is fine, they’re just bitter exes

Ben and Abigail are separated because Ben is being a self righteous prick

Presto! Now we’ve go a movie’s worth of character drama, and two dysfunctional romances to deal with!

Do I think these were the best decisions to go with? Did this create the sequel I wanted to see? Not really.

But this is what we’ve got, so let’s go with it.

Patrick

The way Patrick frames his relationship with Ben’s mother in the first movie makes it sound like she was the one true love of his life.

We see this in the way he talks about her directly.

PATRICK At least I had your mother, for however brief a time.

He says this while listing the fundamental needs and joys of life that he has, and Ben doesn’t. He draws a contrast to what he had—Ben and his mother—to what Ben has now.

Patrick’s one-true-love perspective on his wife is also implied in the lessons he’s passed on to Ben about romance.

BEN Well, my father thinks I've been a little too cavalier in my personal life. … Have you ever told someone - not a relative - "I love you"? … More than one someone? … Well, then my father would say you've been a little too cavalier in your personal life, too.

This exchange paints a pretty clear picture that Ben’s mother was the one and only love of Patrick’s life. It implies that he only said “I love you” to one person, and that anything else would be irresponsible and rash.

Emily

Dr. Emily Appleton tells a very different story.

EMILY That was not love. That was excitement, adrenaline and tequila. … I was trying to get course credit.

From her perspective, not only was Patrick not the one true love of her life, they weren’t in love at all. He was the professor, instructor, or TA that she had a fling with for during an alcohol-and-adrenaline fueled treasure hunt.

It’s unclear from the dialogue if this treasure hunt for course credit was the same as the Marrakesh toothbrush-travel case-luggage incident, or if they were two separate hunts. In either case, Emily’s version doesn’t make it sound like they were together for that long. In fact, it sounds like she got pregnant pretty early in their relationship and so they tried to make it work.

EMILY No, you did it because you wanted to, and I would've done the same thing, except one of us had to grow up and stay home and look after Ben. Certainly wasn't going to be you.

This strikes me as fairly bold for an early-aughts Disney flick? But maybe I’m just getting old. Emily got knocked up during a treasure hunting fling, and that diverted her from whatever fieldwork it seems like she was doing and kept her out of the treasure hunting game. That’s a pretty tragic backstory, actually. I’d be pissed at Patrick too. It worked out for her eventually, since she’s a tenured professor now, but still.

Again, I personally chalk these difference up not to character, but to craft. Emily didn’t exist in the first movie, so Patrick’s relationship with her was painted very differently. One she becomes a character, the “one true love” thing doesn’t work anymore because now we need a reason why she wasn’t in the first movie, and Patrick was taking about her like he’d never see her again. The first movie paints Patrick as the romantic conservative and Ben as a someone who goes through relationships too fast.

But if my mission here is to treat BoS as an equally true piece of the story (which yes, I am aware I am failing at repeatedly), then we’re faced with an interesting complication: Patrick’s whole “cavalier in one’s personal life” philosophy is true, but also wildly misleading.

Contradictions

While Patrick never actually says explicitly that he loves Emily in the course of the films, it’s implied from his behavior (and the way he’s still trying to win her back three or four decades later) that she’s the one he said it to. So by the definition of “only say ‘I love you’ to one person” or “only fall in love with one person” Patrick Gates is the epitome of romance.

But he’s also wildly cavalier with his relationship by any other definition. Emily might be the only love of his life, but he woo’d her, knocked her up, and left her home with their kid while he kept treasure hunting. That is not the epitome of romance.

It also makes a lot of sense, because their relationship had no ground to stand on. Emily spells out explicitly that, at least from her point of view, they weren’t in love, and they weren’t really in a long term relationship. They were in a fling that got complicated.

They got together in the heat of the moment while on a treasure hunt, and once they returned to their normal lives, their relationship fell apart because it never really was one. It was exactly what Emily said: “excitement, adrenaline and tequila.”

Consequences

In other words, they have the exact relationship that (at least I think) the first National Treasure does not want Ben and Abigail to have, and that the sequel very much thinks they do have. Ben is repeating the exact mistakes of his father, falling for a girl he wows with a treasure hunt and then not wanting to listen to her or take her feelings and desires into account once things calm down.

And at the end of BoS, both couples are making the same new/old mistake: the Gates boys are both getting back together with their treasure hunt sweethearts without making any real progress on the issues that drove them apart in the first place. (Well, maybe Patrick has changed, because it has been 40 year. Ben, not so much.) And Emily and Abigail are getting sucked back in by the adrenaline, excitement, and near-death experiences. No tequila necessary!

Gah!

And this is the reason I find Book of Secrets so fundamentally depressing. Nobody changed. Neither of the Gates men addressed the flaws that were ruining their relationships, and everybody decided to get back on the merry-go-round as if it’s a good happy ending.

This is also the reason why I quietly push BoS into a little box and bury it in the garden when I consider Ben and Abigail’s relationship.

Conclusion

So there you have it.

Alternate subtitles for this issue were “Sins of the Father” and “Generational Trauma.”

Perhaps we’ll dig in to why Ben and Patrick are like this another time. But for now, I’m tired and I want my blorbos back.

What do you think? Why are Ben and Patrick terrible? Why do two very smart Ph.ds put up with them?

Thanks for your question! Feel free to send another any time.

[suuho]

Hey! Can you share your thoughts on Suga as an artist and a performer? This ask is inspired by all those gifs btw.

hi!! i have NOT forgotten about this ask, i promise. i was meant to answer this, like, a week ago, and then i got off track because my sister sent me a tweet and what can i say, i have the attention span and object permanence of a very small dog. sometimes. it HAPPENS. but i have not forgotten and that is why i am going to finally answer this.

under the cut because this is extremely long.

so, the thing is, it's been forever really since i've watched any bts live performances, they have just become so grating to me that i could simply NOT bear it, like. i have to love myself a little too, and i cannot deal with the rapid decline of their already subpar vocal standard, and the blatant disregard of the rap line's actual function. which is, you know. to rap. but all of this aside, i did sit down to relive the glory days of monster performances and, especially, rap line and yoongi solo performances.

which is why we will start this thing with my thoughts on yoongi as a performer. i even got out my hard drive with the bts concerts for this, which i haven't looked at in ages EITHER. *blows off the dust*

my favorite live performances he's done are: trivia: seesaw, outro: tear, cypher pt. 4, intro: never mind, boy with luv, and mic drop. i think? in that order. it's really been forever. honorable mention to interlude: shadow and black swan. black swan yoongi is something else and he shines in that song for reasons i will be getting into further down. it's kind of like the thesis of yoongi as a performer. but more to that later.

yoongi as a performer is very. hm. how do we get into this? this could (a/n: and will be!) be an endlessly long post. so, the main takeaway that i get whenever i watch yoongi is that he isn't a natural on stage. i think, whatever he does up there is hardly-fought-for and hardly-earned. yoongi is the kind of idol type that should not be an idol. that could not be suited less to be on an idol stage but he bodies it, because the yoongi who decided to become an idol is a product of his time and circumstance. the yoongi who became an idol is the kind of guy we saw in the late aughts and early 10s. the yoongi who is an idol can be traced back to a certain idol type that was super popular in the first and second generation of kpop, that only made it possible for a guy like yoongi to debut in the first place. you can draw a direct line from g-dragon, beast's junhyung, b.a.p's yongguk, block b's zico, and 2pm's taecyeon, to yoongi.

i have mentioned it before but pretty much everything bighit did with yoongi up until, like, 2016 (and especially during you never walk alone and the most beautiful moment in life) is quintessentially modeled after beast's junhyung. for good reason and unsurprisingly; beast was pretty much the biggest kpop group that existed at one point. yoongi and junhyung are the same type, visually and artistically, down to their similar vocal types. it's so obvious when you know what you're looking for. i had that epiphany when i was watching beast's 12:30 and good luck mv's.

anyways. yoongi is an introvert, above all, and you can tell when he performs. he will never know the sort of ease that hoseok possesses on stage, for example. when yoongi performs, he does not project his energy outwards. he is not a charisma bomb like hoseok or jimin, but he has a certain draw that makes you want to know more, look closer, keep your eyes on him at all times. he has a very commanding stage presence and especially up until 2018, there was a lot of anger and fury beating beneath yoongi's live performances. he mellowed out significantly for songs like boy with luv or dna, but if you watch him perform tear or seesaw or idol, you notice there is a certain sort of desperation that clings to him. that certain desperation wrote interlude: shadow, by the way. and i think he never let go of that feeling until he released that song (and black swan). everything had to be so immediate for yoongi when he performed. the energy he did project had no goal and was not aimed at anyone or anything; it just burst out of him. it's the kind of thing that drove him from the underground rap scene to the stage of wembley stadium.

that makes yoongi not the most likable performer in the world because he does not perform for anyone. when he is on stage, it is not for the crowd, it is for himself. i feel like yoongi spent the majority of his life as an idol proving something to the world at large, and to himself. to that kid that never thought he would make it there, but had all the swagger and arrogance to do whatever it took. (which is how we got idol yoongi)

something, something, this is why it all went down the drain after dynamite.

he shines in rap songs, unsurprisingly. yoongi is a passable, capable dancer, an okay singer if in his own range, but a very, very talented rapper. and his affinity for double time raps is driven by the desperation and fury i mentioned, i think, all the words he had to say had to get out somehow, no matter at what cost, and sometimes that meant squeezing them between the beats, the metronome. he is not just a 'fast talker'. in my opinion, that does a great disservice to his skillset. he is pretty good at what he does, actually. he is the most skilled rapper in bts, and bts has the second best rapline in the industry.

he is prone to arrogance, i know i already said that, and that makes him come across as plain unlikable very easily and has made him fuck up more than once. as a performer and as a human. it is not his best trait, but it works in his favor on songs like cypher pt. 4, idol, and blood, sweat and tears. it offers his rap an edge that neither hoseok nor namjoon can sell as well as he does. this is the classic idol rapper blueprint that has gone lost among the sauce of most 3rd and almost all 4th gen. we do not have performers like this anymore, because an idol has to be likable, needs to sell you a product, needs to be your potential love interest, etcetera.

yoongi as a performer: introverted, skillful, arrogant, commanding, sharp, desperate, furious, melancholic, occasionally gentle and sweet.

now, yoongi as an artist. well, that's a different beast, but not entirely. yoongi as an artist is in a way just another side of yoongi as a performer, but someone who allows us to delve deeper into who he is and what he wants to be. what he wants the public to perceive him as. which is paradox because yoongi as a songwriter and producer affords him to dig deep and say things that yoongi the idol, the performer, would never allow to be seen or heard. it's like a song allows him to confess things. and whatever is the result, well, it will be judged but not in real time. not directly out of his mouth. this is how we got the last, seesaw, his tear verse, and black swan. like, it is crazy to me that song he hasn't even written is so accurately a reflection of who he is as an artist. (the connection is dionysus -> black swan -> suga's interlude and sprinkled among that are first love, interlude: shadow and intro: never mind)

"born as an idol, reborn as an artist" led to "oh, that would be my first death i been always so afraid of," and ended at "honestly, it’s different from the future I hoped for, but that doesn’t matter, now it’s the matter of survival — however it is."

yoongi is cocky as a performer and he had no qualms of threading those parts of himself into his work, but i think what would truly kill him, and is partly why this recent development of bts is so hysterical to me, is if he would have to let go of the part of him that creates art. if yoongi would never be allowed to touch a pen or a piano, i think that would kill him. he lives and dies for this shit, and it makes up a lot of who he is as a person, too. it is no surprise that suga's interlude and black swan were released at pretty much the same time.

yoongi constantly lives with the success he has achieved and the dreams he has realized, and the dread that comes from how all of this has happened and none of it has turned out the way he had hoped for. a lot of his work is trying to come to terms with this super stardom and who exists beneath. and what happens when those dreams turn to nightmares. and how in the end, it doesn't matter, because he does it for the art. how much it pains him that he loves the success. what loving that success has done to him. the rot it infests you with, that you cannot help but crave. that kind of paralyzing fear it breathes into you.

on another note, the only reason why the most beautiful moment in life worked so well is because it was built around yoongi in so many ways. that entire narrative rises and fallswith him. he just, kind of, internalized and owned that. like, he is that manic pixie dream boy. if you are dead at the end of the story, you are dead at the beginning of it. it's so crazy! if i think about it for longer, i really do go crazy. yoongi's desperation, fury, tenderness. it all lives in that narrative. man.

i feel like i am just rambling at this point but yoongi as an artist is a safe space, a place for him to unburden himself, to do what he loves the most with no restraints, to practically stage an exorcism of a cripplingly introverted performer. yoongi as an artist allows him to speak his innermost thoughts. he is meticulous, sensitive, attentive. he has a great ear, a vision for what he wants to make, and a very definite style depending on the genre he produces for. his style reminds me a lot of the songs junhyung produced for beast (not a coincidence). so, here we are once again! full circle.

anyways. i guess that's it! i hope that answer was even just a little satisfying and i feel like i didn't even say half of what i wanted to, but this is so long already. thank you and have a good day!

[softgrungeprophet]

I was rambling about this in my insta stories and had been thinking about making a post like this off and on for a while so, i'm just gonna do it now

Spider-Man comics to get to know me:

(Peter Parker: Spider-Man #47 (Jenkins/Ramos))

These are comics I like, comics that make me go "AUGHFDHGH" etc. I'm not saying they're masterpieces (though some of them are), but I'm saying I like them and they are a good insight into my tastes and why I write and draw the way I do, for my AUs, etc...

apologies in advance, this post is going to be a bit long.

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first: a comic arc (really, arcs) that makes me feel crazy (in a good way)

Peter Parker: Spider-Man #44-47 (Jenkins/Ramos) and Spectacular Spider-Man v2 #3-10 (Jenkins/Ramos) (also issue #27)

I am still randomly working my way through these comics in bits and pieces because I read like a weirdo (aka, sometimes out of order, often with large breaks in between) but in general I do recommend these specific issues to at least some extent if you want to understand my tastes in comics and what subplots make me absolutely feral

with the caveat that these comics are incredibly early aughts for better and for worse; some of the jokes don't quite land (particularly Nurse Helga in SSM, which is a textbook example of the Brawnhilda trope, such a staple of 2000s humor and just not funny), and I find Jenkins' take on Venom (and Eddie Brock's backstory, mannerisms and speech) to be lacking... though it's not entirely uncompelling.

but as far as Peter, and his life, and the stuff involving Flash, and also the scene where he makes Ock beg for mercy, it's very much my shit. He makes Peter feel lost and directionless in a way that feels very believable, and it's clear that Peter really gives a shit about people. Even just the other people in his apartment building breaking into his apartment to play games using his TV is like... Yeah. I love it.

Extremely "this was made for me," and I am definitely the target audience when it comes to taste. When/if I ever have the money I'll definitely be looking for used copies of the trades with these issues in them because I really do like it a lot. I guess there's something about the way Jenkins writes (not to mention Ramos' stellar compositions) both in terms of character but also in terms of style itself—something dreamy and melancholy but not trudging—that really speaks to me as a reader and drags me in, even when he sometimes misses the mark or makes a joke that isn't funny. (which i'll admit isn't... uncommon)

I WANT TO SAY ONE THING THOUGH which is that even though I like their Spectacular stuff, the Ock arc (issues #6-10 iirc) deals with the Israel/Palestine conflict as part of the plot and while, writing-wise, it's actually surprisingly thoughtful (tho idk if i can judge whether it's truly deeply thoughtful or just not as offensive as it could have been, especially for such a fraught topic in a superhero comic), there is an Israeli character that, to be frank, the way Ramos draws him feels very antisemitic to me. I know that he has a very stylized way of drawing and he exaggerates a lot of characters' features, especially facial features, but it's still fair to point out that the IDF character is undeniably drawn in a way that is questionable at best and clearly rooted in antisemitic stereotypes whether intentional or not.

Similar goes for the Palestinian character, tbh. Ramos is, again, very stylized, but definitely is leaning more into the big hawkish noses for the arab and israeli characters...

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Sensational Spider-Man v2 #23-40 (Aguirre-Sacasa/Medina/Crain)

NOT marvel knights spider-man, I do not like marvel knights spider-man, this is a different creative team, it got the title changed from MKS I guess? idk 23-40 is literally the entire run, it starts on 23 lol

well. no 23-41 is the whole thing but 41 is OMD and I still haven't read it 🤷 Also this is concurrent with a lot of Civil War stuff, like, Aunt May getting shot, and like one of the trades actually is a Civil War branded book, but like... I didn't read basically any of that stuff. If you know the gist of what happens during Civil War, it makes plenty enough sense on its own.

This run is... my shit. Overall, I just like it. And more specifically the issues from the POV of, respectively, Aunt May, MJ, and Felicia, made me cry like a little baby. Hell—I don't even like the villain who's revealed at the culmination of the first arc but I still really like the first arc as a whole. (though I'll admit, while Aguirre-Sacasa writes a Peter I really like, he does fall into my biggest pet peeve (he's not the only one) of talking about Peter's Inherent Pure Goodness but like... he still writes a great Spidey imo)

Also. It turns out I have a thing for moody 2000s comics where it's pouring rain with art that can occasionally be described as "wack" 😂 I actually... unlike Ramos' art, I don't really find myself defending Medina's. It's ridiculously lumpy, it's very mid 2000s aesthetically, it's kind of fuck-ugly. But. The atmosphere is impeccable. I'm also not really a fan of Clayton Crain (who did the art i put up above), generally (he's just not to my taste most of the time) but like, again, the mood is impeccable and Crain is good at what he does when what he's doing is meant to be uncomfortable or creepy. The atmosphere is off the charts, man.

It's absolutely not for ages 9 and up ("A") and I really don't know how or why it got that rating instead of the 15+ "Parental Advisory" warning, because even the briefest of glimpses shows that it's a pretty intense run from the start... it's really just not for kids at all imo, though young horror buffs I'm sure could handle it for the most part.

Also yes this is the comic run where Peter meets and talks to God (#40, the Book of Peter) which. i know sounds weird. and it is weird, i won't lie. But... I liked it? I think it rewired my brain a little bit. When I mention Peter punching dumpsters in fics, this issue is where I got that from. It really made a lot of things click for me.

This run is also why I draw Felicia's hair down to her fuckin ankles lol like—even though I said! that I don't really like Medina's art! The way he draws Felicia in the pouring rain with her long, long hair plastered soaking wet to her body, like. again, rewired my brain a little bit.

THAT BEING SAID—

I feel the need to put a VERY BIG TRIGGER AND CONTENT WARNING on this recommendation.

Issues #38 and #39 are The Last Temptation of Eddie Brock.

The Last Temptation of Eddie Brock is upsetting to read (regardless of your opinion on Venom and/or Eddie as a character(s)).

Listen, I like angst. I write and read a lot of angsty stuff. I like sad endings. I like reading stories that are dark, to an extent. One could probably accuse me of liking edgelord-y or grimdark stuff. I don't even think The Last Temptation is bad. BUT. It's upsetting to read and I think it really requires a trigger warning for the things it deals with—not just cancer but also attempted suicide and self harm, and graphic violence/blood—because it's kind of intense even in its briefness, and it was a little bit upsetting for me to read even as someone who usually isn't bothered by this stuff in fiction. It's just kind of a lot.

So just keep in mind that those two issues but especially #39 might be... kind of intense or upsetting, especially if you don't know what to expect going in. I did know what to expect, I knew what happened in it already, and it still really threw me for a loop just because of the presentation of certain scenes and the visuals themselves, and it kind of stuck with me for a few days just cause it's that kind of heavy.

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Grim Hunt (Amazing Spider-Man #634-637) (Kelly/Lark/Chechetto)

What can I say except AWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

another comic that feels like it was made just for me 😂 you might be.. noticing a pattern here.... lmao it's true i'm the target audience for edgy, violent superhero comic books (i'm just also the target audience for like. the ones where the interpersonal relationships are just as important as everything else)

Grim Hunt's got it all: it's got angry Peter, it's got dangerous Peter (perhaps even... murderous Peter), it's got Kaine being tragic, it's got nice art overall, it's got Kraven being a DILF (thanks checchetto)—also it opens on Peter with swine flu 😂

I really enjoyed Grim Hunt when i read it recently, and it really does tap into exactly the kinds of things I like in Spider-Man, in making Peter really give a shit about people, and in having Kaine trying to do the right thing, and especially in having Peter switch into my favorite mode: Horror Movie Serial Killer Mode.

It's a lot of fun!

It's not perfect, of course, and like many of the other comics on my faves list, does that "innate goodness" thing which I disagree with and I think is a thing Kelly often does? At least, twice, i guess, cause it's in Non-Stop as well sort of (though it feels more justified there). And it makes me go NOO Peter's anger does not take away from his humanity, his anger is PART of his humanity! His flaws are what make him human! But other than that it ruled and I really liked it, and like the other comics on here I'll probably try to snag a trade someday if I can find one, cause I like to physically own my favorite comics, generally.

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Non-Stop Spider-Man (Kelly/Bachalo) (all of the issues; it's not very long, it fits in a single trade, you can read it in like. an afternoon.)

(note: I haven't had a chance to read the follow-up to Non-Stop (Savage Spider-Man) yet, so I can't say if that's good or not but Non-Stop is fantastic so it's gotta be at least halfway decent)

Something I'm realizing is that I think I might like Joe Kelly's writing 😂 even his arc in SM/DP is genuinely not awful (I mean, anything that gives me Peter being sexy in a sleek black suit with claws, threatening people, ends up a minimum level of decent just by that virtue alone)

Others have said this: Bachalo's art does feel a little rushed, especially compared to other comics he's done, and yet, despite this, visually it is a TREAT. It is a FEAST for my eyeballs. The layouts are fucking WILD, it's like 90% diagonals, it fucking RULES. It goes 500000 miles an hour. This is hands-down one of the best modern (past 10 years specifically) Spider-Man comics I have read. Period. It rips, slaps, fucks, etc. It's bitchin' and I'd recommend it for the art and layouts alone!

(even if, yes, Bachalo makes Peter the most twinky twink to ever twink; at least he's fuckable) (even if not as fuckable as in SM/DP #23... with the DSL...)

But I like the writing a lot too! It's not just visually appealing, it's simply a stellar all around piece of comic-making, from the art, lettering, writing, the whole team really made something amazing.

And also, okay. So. This comic. I think it's well-written and well-drawn. But. Okay. The dialogue. It's... very very clearly influenced directly by things like the popularity of the MCU by which I mean: over-reliance on Whedon-esque, frequently memetic dialogue (which is weird because none of the other stuff I've read by Kelly has this kind of dialogue style?)... it's Cringe, essentially. That being said, I think Joe Kelly is significantly more successful and better at using this style of dialogue compared to basically every other writer I've ever seen doing it—not that that's saying much but, I do think he was largely successful with it, as cringe as "Nazi, please" is. It doesn't really stop being cringe but it is, for the most part, fairly snappy and well-paced with a good patter that matches the pacing of the art very well. It's called Non-Stop Spider-Man for a reason, it really does not stop.

Also, even with that dialogue and trying to make Peter more hip and cool (which I assume is at least partially editorial), well, Kelly remains very good at writing Peter. He just has a great handle on the character.

I also think that there's a really huge point in Kelly's favor here which is that he's completely, 100% candid, upfront and straightforward about the story he is writing. The villains in this comic are racists. They are neo-nazis and anti-semites. Kelly doesn't shy away from that or try to couch it in metaphors. They're just racist, and that is why they are bad people.

There's a scene where Zemo makes a crack about gold fillings, to Peter's face. Kelly and Bachalo allow for a single completely silent panel following this (which is very impactful in a comic that's this frenetic) and then he snaps. It's a very effective scene, and unlike some other "Character Experiences Discrimination" scenes (such as, for example, Zodiac's violent homophobic assault of Johnny Storm) even despite the fact that "Peter is Jewish" is the only thing that does remain only subtext, it feels very cathartic and well-done because Peter is allowed to be angry and fight back in response; he's not the object of the scene, he's the subject and he gets to act rather than be dehumanized or objectified as nothing more than a victim, and I really liked that and I know that I've talked about that with others who felt that it was very well executed as well.

AND that fighting back and anger is presented as justified, and right, rather than an unfortunate flaw. Peter's rage is sympathetic, justifiable, and not presented as Wrong. He is allowed to be angry, and it is okay that he is angry—in fact it is good that he is angry. Because it means he gives a shit. I like that.

I don't think the plot twist at the end entirely hits right, like... I do 100% see what Kelly was going for with it, and I don't think it's necessarily unbelievable or bad, but something just didn't click right for me there. But overall, I still think it's a good comic and is a good window into my tastes.

To quote myself: it takes big swings, some of them miss, some of them hit really hard, and it feels like it has a lot more teeth than some of the more recent comics. and i can appreciate teeth.

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(Spider-Man: Redemption #3 (DeMatteis/Zeck)

Not specific runs per se but I also really just like anything DeMatteis does—sometimes he does whiff it a tiny bit (rarely) but overall I love his writing stylistically (he's one of few writers that can get me to enthusiastically read a wall of text in a comic book), in terms of characterization and interpersonal relationships—

comics like Spider-Man: The Lost Years or Redemption were really enjoyable for me to read (thanks for the recs TC)

and of course there's Spectacular Spider-Man (Flashback) #-1 (That Thompson Boy!) which is such a foundational issue for Flash's backstory at this point

and who can forget the iconic Child Within (i'll admit i haven't actually read TCW myself but I've seen many, many pieces of it via discord lol)—he and Buscema are such a dream team for comics, really... they work so well together. Nothing hits harder than Harry's death...

Anyway, those are like, The Comics That Define My Taste to some extent (or offer the best window into what I like and understanding my taste) but

There are also other comics I know I would like that I have not read yet! Though I've read a couple issues from JMS' ASM run and enjoyed them, such as ASM #55 (love teacher!peter so much), but there's still a lot I have yet to make my way through. (i still haven't read Kraven's Last Hunt 😂 yeah I know)

(Amazing Spider-Man #55 (JMS/Romita Jr.)

(peter's like, in his mid-to-late 20s at this point i'm pretty sure lol)

And there are other single issues I won't be taking the time to list just cause, there's a lot, you know? Like...

The B story in ASM 622 (or the A story, if you're horny and want to look at peter's biceps and beautiful profile)

(Amazing Spider-Man #622 (A-story: "It is the Life," van Lente/Quinones (peter gets vampire hypnotized), B-story: "Stages of Grief," Weisman/Ross (peter and the crew throw flash a birthday party so he knows just how much he is valued and loved))

or like... ASM Extra! #3 where Flash comes back w/o his legs and Peter beats the shit out of a z-lister because he feels so guilty, and so on and so forth.

(Amazing Spider-Man: Extra! #3, "Character Assassination: Coda," Guggenheim/...Fiorentino I think? There are two artists in this story, for the two different things happening, but I think the artist for this sequence is Fabrizio Fiorentino, not Olliffe)

anyway

Good shit!!

obviously there are the classics as well, Amazing Fantasy #15, early ASM, etc., like of COURSE. Silver Age is a lot of fun (or, sometimes, tragedy) and the silver age gave us the coffee bean gang, and peter's bitchiness, and such good character dynamics, and was the start of all of it—obviously none of these comics would exist without the silver age, and like, gwen's death is iconic, and so on. but to try to pick specific issues, idk if i can single any out? i hop around so much when i read, you know? it's hard to keep track or to pick favorites 😂

but I do think that Amazing Spider-Man Annual #5 has really valuable insight into Peter as a character (spoiler: he's not very nice), though requires some basic understanding of Cold War politics and the Rosenbergs (thank you Traincat for pointing that second part out to me, it really brings nuance and clarifies subtext that might go missed otherwise)

but you can like… go on wikipedia for that really… I just think it's a neat comic and tbh for every fan (or pro) who tries to insist that Peter is a perfect, delicate, harmless boy maybe they should go to the source and see that Stan Lee disagreed. lol

(and also those people owe me... five bucks and a pizza 😉)

[libidomechanica]

“The next door we will do, speak in figures also, they were”

Were ‘t aught aske I, but a dreams.     Again the water dewe. Ah fools of short that nobody     can love is true. Too late cars which gown to a lake where all     that grow, and make him invisible when I’ll speak but the     acting of spice and feare,

enter brauely euerywhere, that     lover’s hermitage; your love but gauds; nay, whistle a little     man. Did silence to me and Cleopatra—night that     able spirits so fair on the altar heap’d with the banner     of them blue in the

argument all back again. Earth     her een her home thy louer? One in war with a full heart thumping     like-hat relation, so I could really see the     heardgroomes, keeping, where were sweet but don’t holy were greater     in an ear! Or to wronged

lovely young JESSIE you saw a     field made up of worths surmount. Welcome, wean; mishanter far     doth not breath our coming want them leave all enjoy hats, but     of conversation of hands knot, I change and there Damon     lay, with trembling dew: or

glitter’d to my bonie, sweetnesse, which     with tears. When you are more to try it when I realize     it. Whether the ones thy flocks the wild birds sang thee his skill     in horse, my hand hold her feel her chekes pit thou have done:     mine enemie. Are far estrange

route. The sorrows of you, a     kind of the English eyes were grew so tender&I so young     JESSIE you saw a field made such annoied. His honor, or     his colowred crime. Decay: for fierce tears. The rest I’ll speak.     The next door we will do,

speak in figures also, they were     you epitomize contemplating to breathe a man-at-     armes did draw: of touch my soul with the blood from the hill. Not     as to get out. And all the news tonight: a debate about     the new. Ay little

kissable mouth in waves asking     about goings of Dove, a maiden fair Syrinx in trees     or colour’d vellum playes, yet this love gentle into diamond     is impossibility we will ever call it     bee through which prove more, by

paying time. Out of a burro.     Two grubs on thy corbe shoulders with its mouth a locust in     your body takes on the line&her pillow understand. Trading     be, or to be Lord, what would not Love make thou within     a year a son was delight

from Boston to Paris watching     such ends, and old. Of custome to that an act that fatal     knife shut in your starry air of midnight I feele,     and dirks the horsemen my glass, in the most impeach’d standing     day; rage, rage disarms—these

bitter bargain driven: I hold     her and thoughts, new grows erect, as sour bare is a tall ghost     tossing and you, to whom love me—wilt thou leau’st that grow, and     only when there were true cause their hair. And hail once be seen:     trees, at one thieving lyre,

whose hat you will, approve, hers     conversation I could encline. All through and I do love me     on my soule to proved us one. Yet if the lintwhites     in New Jersey lighted;— o that moved the maidens came around     else is. I have been

born is gone. Love chants of your     carelesse corage hath stell’d thy beams as thou place, straw into     that an act that soft and look out at thy mither’s hate, weeds     among the cast live on the flowers alarming us,     as happy as well with

gilded leaues or filled within, the     rose, the God be the music speaks with the sea has been     exhibited on Bond Street and not suffer the blowen bags,     like paper animals. I call me Papa. It so have     been exhibited only

this last wave hot youthful shore,     and beate vpon that bosom’s shop is hang; thy shrine, no truth before     was not wear that it is the queen sent our lives a     womankind, I embrace the pink, the trick. Ever see     To see his neare ouerthrow.

[kbrecycling-blog]

Old Love Song

I used to listen to a song on my morning commute to work--my old morning commute to work from Evanston to Winnetka, not my current one-minute commute from Glencoe to Glencoe. If you know me, you know that I tend towards a repetitive (some might call it incessant) listening style. Not since Landslide junior year of college did I play and replay a song like this. 

Today I was waiting for Bo to make the short run across the street from his baseball practice to the car. It was pouring and the minutes ticked by and I had run out of cold case podcasts and Ringer podcasts and Pod Save Americas so I switched to Spotify and tried to remember the names of songs I used to love. Sometimes my brain is capable of producing a name–a title, a former acquaintance, a piece of knowledge –but more and more frequently, it’s a fifty-fifty shot. This is just one way I feel the passage of time lately. Others include my growing ignorance of (and subsequent awkwardness attempting to use) current slang, and my stubborn reliance on mid-twenty aughts Shopbop trends as the fashion world passes me by. Anyway, I wanted to listen to that song, the one I listened to pretty much every morning on the way to work, Highway 20 Ride by Zac Brown Band.

Those commutes often included a stop at my fertility clinic for a blood draw or ultrasound, which I of course wrote about exhaustively (and exhaustingly) during that time of my life. That made the song a weird mantra choice as it’s about a father looking back on the bi-monthly drives he took visiting his son, who lived with his ex-wife. I was, of course, desperately trying to create a child–a family–with my very un-ex husband (and still going strong today thank you). The sadness and the loss of the lyrics resonated with me, as I tended to feel that sense of loss deeply myself even though nothing had really been lost, just not yet found. But I’ve always been like that; I’ve always aged myself and my experiences prematurely, mourning weeks, months, and years before they’ve passed, claiming the age I’ll turn on my next birthday before I turn it. I don’t know why. When I was young and more fun and could wear a string bikini top as a bra, it felt like a facet of my personality that was poetic and unexpected. Now that I’m closer to fifty than forty, it just feels like rushing. 

The line that moved me most back then was “And my whole world, it begins and ends with you.” Oh how I wanted a baby that could begin and end my world back then. But today it hit different (see I told you it’s awkward). How can I be someone whose whole world begins and ends with my son? What does that mean when he’s about to be halfway to his thirteenth birthday, when sometime in the past year I realized that protecting him from the disappointment, hardness, and pain of the real world is no longer in his best interest, and actually (in my opinion) in the opposite of his best interest if we want him to become an independent and mindful adult one day? When one day soon he’ll be moving on to the next part of his life beyond this house? Then what? 

Hearing that song today reminded me of the passage of time again. Words that meant one thing now mean something else; words of longing for the future now mean longing for the past. Or soon-to-be past. See? Rushing. 

I recently had an experience that led me to consider how much I’ve changed since I became a wife and, eventually, a mother. Have I lost a lot of who I was? Have I gained enough to justify that? There was a time when I’d sleep on the floor of a rented tent at the Metroparks without a second thought, or spend the night lying on the rocks that stretched from the shore of Lake Michigan. Now I can’t fall asleep in a hotel bed without a Xanax because it creeps me out thinking of all the people who have used the pillow before me. That’s a superficial example, but you get the idea. If I ever had wanderlust–and that is debatable–I’ve misplaced it. My world has narrowed–happily, I have to say–but what happens when my narrowed walls house only me? 

I deleted and re-typed that last line a few times. It’s not how I want to sound, but it’s what I feel. Getting older, for me, means losing the shiny (if I do say so myself) package that contained my complicated, sometimes even dark, interior. I have always worried about my balance; when I was younger, I was sunnier on the outside.

When I wrote about my experiences with infertility fifteen years ago, I almost always had an ending–not always upbeat, but something I could take from what I’d written to move forward with. When I write now, I’m somehow less sure of what I want. Like my instant recall, sometimes it’s quick and clear, and other times I can’t quite grasp what it is that’s missing. Maybe my nostalgia when I listened to Zac Brown today was less for the song itself and more for who I was when I used to listen to it. For what was going through my mind back then, for the clear and powerful certainty of what I wanted.

[ssolessurvivor]

💋

memes - always accepting! - @princedickhead

"You know the reason I kissed you at that ball?" They'd since discovered the identity of one another a few nights ago even, and Logan didn't want to leave anything unspoken. Not that it was necessary really.

The memory of that night alone was still so rich in his head it was as if it were yesterday. He'd kissed a Prince at a masquerade ball that he almost hadn't even attended.

And that moment, those stolen kisses, helped him get through five long years of being on a distant moon.

And here they were, tucked in bed just talking the night away like true insomniacs. Henry had a habit of coming in to Logan's palace room, simply cuddling close like they'd had a habit of doing every time they came together, since that time was so limited. Logan's hand was holding Henry's, their fingers intwined perfectly, his thumb rubbing along the Prince's soft skin as he thought of what he aught to say, what he should reveal.

Seven years down the road seems fitting, right?

"I kissed you because I didn't know if I'd ever come home." Eyes watching their hands tangle turn to Henry, looking rather ethereal in the low light coming through the window. Moonlight had a habit of turning him into a god. A soft chuckle escapes Logan's lips now. "And, turns out, I almost didn't. You know, even though I didn't know who you were...you gave me a lot more courage up there. But...sometimes I wonder where you would be if I hadn't-"

Everything is muffled as Henry draws nearer and silences Logan's words with a kiss so tender but has such heat behind it. Their hands disentangle and Henry's hand rests against all the scars on Logan's neck and chest, but Logan has not a single thought in his head. His own hands slide over Henry's bare skin, settling on the small of his back, languidly drawing up and down that line to memorize it further. Once the kiss had turned into kisses is over though, blonde heads of hair rest together, their noses touching as they breathe in one another's air in the stillness of the bed, feeling entirely at home.

[laurenceslife]

Chapter 48

            Laurence didn’t get the Oscar, on the other hand, Angela did. The man was happy about this too, and what really bothered him, wasn’t that he didn’t get the award but that his father didn’t go to the award ceremony.

Victoria wasn’t home, she was in a series’ filming location in Los Angeles; she had a little part in it.

He called the hotel where she was staying, but she wasn’t there then.

It came into his head that he should meet with Mike, too, so called Kristen to ask her if he could be going over.

The woman said that there were guests at their place then, she would speak when they had left.

Till then, Laurence was going over to Hajna’s place even over her head, to meet with his other children.

He would show that he wasn't like his father, that to him, his children were much more important – he thought.

- What are you doing here? Is there some problem?! – the woman opened the door, frightened.

On the other hand, Langston and Montana joyously ran up to him.

- I just thought I’d pop in on – the man said in confusion.

- Usually you speak before it – Hajna was surprised.

- Maybe I need your permission to see my kids? – Laurence asked furiously.

- Is there some problem? – the woman’s partner Will came there.

- No, there’s no problem – Laurence said firmly, and went into the children’s room with the two children.

- Why are you angry with Mom? – Langston asked, still a bit frightened.

- Of course I’m not angry with Mom! Will you show me what you drew?

The little boy showed him his latest drawing, then the man was playing with him and his sister.

- Could you tell me what was in the kids’ and Will’s presence? – Hajna asked, being indignant, when Laurence was leaving – If you have some problem, at least don’t vent it on us!

- OK, sorry. Well, I’m leaving. Bye – he said awkwardly, then went home.

              At home, he was reading, and then Kristen called him that he could be going over to Mike.

Laurence immediately started, and when he had arrived, the woman’s husband Jim answered the door.

Of course, his partner wasn’t home while she was the one who he wanted to be with the most – he thought – Although she only got a little part, and she was going to come home soon…

- Hello – the fifteen-year-old boy came out of his room. He was already almost so tall like Laurence. It came into the man’s head that it was only one year later to him too, that he wasn’t afraid of his father anymore, because of it – Jasmine was here with her parents just now – Mike continued – Why did you come then, too?

- Your mom said to me not to come – his father said edgily – Besides, isn’t it too early in your age yet that you two meet with each other’s parents?

- Mom said you two did it this way at your age, too!

- Because you came too early!

- No, already before that too!

- That’s right – Laurence said furiously, and dashed away to the woman, to the kitchen – Hi Kristen! – his voice was indignant when he had arrived – We should to talk something over.

- So now did you come to Mom or to me?! – his son came after him impatiently.

- Wait a little bit – the man said – Why did you say to me not to come while there were guests at your place? – he asked the woman tensely – You forgot to tell me that you were meeting with the parents of our son’s girlfriend! – he continued furiously.

- Their meeting with both of us would be too early yet – Kristen said calmly – They are only fifteen years old yet!

- Our parents had known each other already, too, when we were fifteen and sixteen years old!

- Mike, go into you room.

- For aught I care – the boy left with outspread arms.

- You know, too, that the reason why our parents knew each other, was because we were going through the detoxification so we needed them to be there so they would be next to us.

- And why did you need to send Mike away to tell me?! - the man asked.

- What do you think, that I told him that we were druggies?!

- Till when do you wanna conceal it?! He’ll get to know it one day, anyway! Besides, if we told him, he could see an excuse for why I impregnated you as teenagers! Who remembers to use contraceptives every time high or during withdrawal symptoms?! Exactly you said that it was even no wonder that way! And he can learn from that also can be by it if he uses drugs!

- Then we would also need to tell him the excuse for why we used drugs! – the woman said furiously – And then he would think he can feel free to use drugs, he just needs to find some excuse for it!

Laurence reflected.

- It’s still necessary to tell him ’cause it will ooze out one day, and it’s better if he hears it from us than if he also gets to know it at the same time that we concealed it! – he said still irritably.

- That’s right – Kristen said agitatedly.

- So when to tell him? – the man asked with folded arms.

              The parents told him right away, and then, when Laurence went home, he thought it was a good thing he dealt with Mike that much because the boy even could have gotten to know it from somebody else because of Kristen.

After he had arrived home, he had dinner, took a shower, cleaned his teeth, meditated, and went to sleep.

As an addition, Mike even took it well what they told him – he continued thinking involuntarily instead of sleeping – He was much more surprised than being indignant or upset. He was surely right, and maybe he even calmed down that they had excuses for not using contraceptives, and he was born so soon. And he surely also calmed down by why they used drugs when they told him everything. But because of it, maybe he thought only some good excuse is necessary to use drugs! – it came into his head – And for him, it wasn’t a bad thing so wasn’t a deterrent that Kristen conceived, because later, he wouldn’t have been born, anyway, because they broke up!

Because of this scary thought, he still couldn’t sleep so got up to read to take his mind off it.

A half hour later, he lied back, but he could only fall asleep after another half an hour.

              Next day, he called Victoria again, and talked with her about this too.

- You’re so much playing up everything! – the girl said after Laurence told her everything – This all is only because you’re constantly thinking about your dad not going to the Oscars!

- That can be true... Fish hasn't really had time for me since he has another family… - the man said furiously – Or maybe he just doesn’t really wanna find time for me! I very much felt his lack when I was a kid, after he left us with my mom for his new woman and their common kid…

- But you said their marriage was bad already before it too!

- I never saw them to be together… - Laurence continued furiously – Surely because it poisoned their relationship that he cheated my mom before I was born!

- But because of you, he stayed with you guys….

- ’Cause Lucy broke up with her so he would stay with us! And then he abandoned me at the hardest age!

- Well, now I’ve got to go to the set, but tomorrow, I’m gonna go home, and we’ll continue it – Victoria said irritably – Bye…

- Bye… - the man said in confusion, and after replacing the receiver, it came into his head that it was arranged that he was going to go to a basketball match with Lemuel, so he had started right away.

[julem]

I posted 16,050 times in 2022

That's 9,582 more posts than 2021!

143 posts created (1%)

15,907 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@monzterzack

@joey-wheeler-official

@nubbybuns

@fizzyimp

@weenie-kun

I tagged 2,462 of my posts in 2022

#queue - 107 posts

#yeah - 44 posts

#yes - 36 posts

#fuck - 29 posts

#reblogging again - 24 posts

#jul.txt - 22 posts

#gender - 17 posts

#oh - 17 posts

#long post - 16 posts

#holy shit - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#you'd think something this sickening would have to be a dark exaggurated parody to show just how absurd and bad real campaigns are

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

i still can't get over the fact that neo:twewy literally has a song with the lyrics "i'm one step closer to the edge and i'm about to break"

26 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

#4

kingdom hearts 4 really just went "oi i die" *gets transported to photorealistic tokyo*

45 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#3

i love how in the yugioh universe drawing the right card is literally a skill that you can be good or bad at

this fucking taizan guy just went into the wilds eating strange mushrooms and practiced drawing until he was this buff monster with impeccable drawing skills

watch s01e17 of ygo gx istg it's so funny

aLSO YUGI'S FUCKING NECKLACE LITERALLY GIVES HIM A DRAWING STAT BOOST AND I FEEL LIKE MAGICAL ARTIFACTS AUGHT TO BE AGAINST THE RULES

48 notes - Posted January 19, 2022

#2

souls games should have pets

pet dogs, pet hounds, pet wolves, pet little abominations that spit in the face of god, pet ghouls, pet little guys

69 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i love that Quark's is an entire franchise in Lower Decks

70 notes - Posted April 1, 2022

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