#it looked precarious but the reviews are good so i was like ‘fuck it’

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I love when I order something and then almost immediately see a better way of doing what I was going to try to do and then getting to cancel the order and save my money. Feels like a very cheap drug

[aribaran]

Hey, I was curious about the world building of your hockey series and why you decided to have women in the NHL and keep the enforcer role as something a lot more common than today's NHL?

the short answer is those are the stories i wanted to tell and the awesome thing about writing your own book is you can basically write whatever you want as long as a publisher is willing to buy it, haha.

the longer answer, at least for bee, is that i do think that there are women who are incredibly talented and that it could be a possibility one day and i enjoy thinking about what that would look like. when you look at players like marie philip-poulin or even nela lopušanová, both of whom are such smart and ridiculously talented women, you wonder how it would go for them in a men's league. relatively tiny guys have long careers all of the time, why not imagine a woman playing in the pro leagues? there aren't actually rules prohibiting them from playing.

i originally started writing the series with bee as the heroine of the first book, because i thought it was a really interesting story, like how would she deal with being one of the most talented people in a room at any given time, but still have to constantly bite her tongue because she was aware how precarious her position was and how the dream could be yanked away at any moment. a large part of her internal drama in her book was not wanting to be a distraction in the locker room/feeling like she couldn't have a relationship with sakari because it could jeopardize her spot on the team/etc but ultimately deciding she could have hockey AND someone who loved her too.

for various reasons, i wasn't able to finish that book (not the least of which an author friend of mine convinced me that as a debut author it would be easier to sell a series that wasn't mixed het and queer relationships and she was right :\) but i liked bee as a character too much to cut her out or rewrite her as a man. from what i can see with the reviews, she is somewhat polarizing. people seem to either really like her or completely hate her. 🤷🏻 i don't regret leaving her in though. i think she's a very fun character to write and i love her friendship with mike so much.

for bee's arc, too, the way she integrates into the team and is a huge reason for their success was also really satisfying for me to write. i like to envision a league that may still have its issues with racism and sexism and homophobia, but ultimately, has the possibility of being more inclusive and accepting. and that's something i'm ideally going to be able to explore in later books but idk how many i'll get, so!

as for the enforcers, i don't think danny or mike are really old school enforcers in the sense that they're completely useless on the ice for anything except fighting. they have contemporary analogues: for example, i see danny as more of a ryan reaves or a nicolas deslauriers type of guy. he may not have the TOI of a top four d-man (yes i know the other two are forwards but it's the general principle), but he's not a total liability when he's out there. there's more fighting in the book than there is in real life, again for drama's sake, but i'll put it this way, des had 136 PIM last season, and a good amount of those were fights. it's not as uncommon as you'd really like to think (or maybe just me being forced to watch the flyers so much...it wasn't as uncommon, rip). and let's not kid ourselves about why guys like reaves and des are both constantly in demand, even if they may not be the most talented players.

if you're interested i have a longer post on my substack about both danny and mike's character arcs and why i wrote them the way i did, including the sources i used. basically my books are romances, but i am someone who is deeply interested in hockey culture and history, so the books are love stories, but they are also avenues for me to interrogate the kind of fucked up aspects of hockey culture. for danny and mike, that was the culture of fighting, playing through pain and ignoring your mental health, the intense and crushing toxic masculinity these men are subjected to from the time they are little kids to the time they are forced to retire. i am doing this too in delay of game, but the focus is on anxiety disorders and body dysmorphia (and the kind of fucked up way that hockey people have of talking about hockey players' bodies).

hopefully that helped answer your question!

[lilredghost]

babyyyy im late but for the writing asks, 4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

49. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

64. Something you love to see in smut.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of any of your fics? 

Baby!! You're not late at all! As long as I keep getting questions, I'll keep answering! Some of these I did already, in which case I'll just link the previous answer

4. Where do you find inspiration for new ideas?

See here

49. Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Thankfully no! I want to say I would block the person and move on, but I know it would hit me hard if I got that kind of negative feedback. The roughest thing I've had to deal with is only a lack of engagement on occasion

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on?

Foreshadowing and Parallel phrases / repetition

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

BITTER ENDINGS. I hate it with a passion! Smut is meant to make you feel good, and people's emotions can be precariously fragile in the aftermath. Why would you hurt someone like this??

64. Something you love to see in smut.

Answered in this post. But also, in the same vein as #63, I love endings where the characters (if it's not already an established relationship) affirm that they seriously like each other or that they want to have sex again. That assurance really puts me at ease; it's sort of like a "happily ever after" for smut

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

Hmmm, this is really difficult actually. Maybe if I whump the fuck out of Obi-Wan? Or find a way to apply his infinite sadness even in a smut fic?? I'm not sure, but I think the way I repeat phrases (see #56) is probably a big one

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of any of your fics?

Not for the E-rated ones, I think, because with those I was pretty happy with only establishing as much detail as I needed/wanted before getting into the porn. But for Their fragrance came from you, definitely! Here are a few:

Originally, Cal and Jaro Tapal were going to be in the courtroom to testify for Anakin's trial. This just sort of got cut because the courtroom scene was already a mess and I decided it didn't add much

Komari was going to be the one to reveal to the readers that Obi-Wan was an omega, instead of Feemor, and it was not going to be nearly as heartfelt! I changed it when I got to that chapter because I had added the fight scene between Komari and Obi-Wan, and it no longer made sense for them to be interacting there. It looked a little like this: “I’m just looking after you, dumbass.” Her brows draw together. “…you’ll be all by yourself over there.” “Again, Komari, I’m not—” “Obi-Wan, I’m not worried about him stabbing you through the gut,” she says sharply. “I’m worried about him finding out that you’re an omega.”

There was also originally a bit during the scene where Obi-Wan and Anakin paint divay in the square where Anakin gets pulled away to tell some kids about "The Tale of Two Suns". We're meant to hear the name of this fable in passing now (and maybe a cultural tidbit or two) and then get the actual text of the fable later in the fic. But that scene was so hard to put together that I couldn't make it fit... I'm trying to introduce the tale of two suns in a different place now, hopefully it works!

[sugako]

after class

ta!suga x f!reader cw: 18+ mdni, college au, alcohol consumption mention (not during the main plot), dubcon (bc of power imbalance & suga coming on VERY strong), oral (giving), facefucking, public sex (no one sees), teasing (receiving), blink once & u miss it degradation, fingering (receiving), quickie/rough sex, unprotected sex wc: 2.5k+ a/n: here is my wee lit ta suga brainrot ,, boy do i hate academia but wow do i like writing shit in a college setting

It was just a literature class, an enjoyable one at that. Yet, every time you walked through the door, the dull thump of your heart sped up. Hovering nearby, he was almost always there, not that you really minded. Maybe your mind was clouded with romantic thoughts because of the room - it was in the oldest part of campus and it showed with the cozy wooden walls and a stained chalkboard at the front of the room.

The nostalgia encouraged by the soft, warm light that streamed through the windows only made your longing more intense. He looked like you imagined a tricky mythical being to look, all sweet and inviting on the outside while fierce and feral inwardly. About a week into class he revealed his true self when reviewing - or rather tearing into - everyone's essays.

You noticed his eyes first. They way they lingered on you when he stepped in to lecture, flitted around your face and down your body, lit up when he went on a tangent about a theme he particularly enjoyed. Even though your mind sometimes wandered, everything was still outwardly appropriate. You called him by his last name like he asked, he called on you appropriately, answered your emails and graded your papers just like anyone else's.

One mistake-filled Friday night you made the mistake of following your friends to the nearest bar, and there he was. Face flushed with happy tears in his eyes he stood up at the bar with some of his friends. When his eyes fell on you the gears slowly turning in his head were visible.

He rushed over, chest pressed tightly against his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you and ushered you up the counter.

“So good to see you!” He whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You knew it was wrong, you tried so hard to tell yourself it was wrong, but he wasn’t much older than you and you weren’t in class now so what difference did it make, you reasoned. Besides, he was drunk and you had a drink in you already and he smelled so nice… “...too, but don’t tell anyone.”

“Huh?” You barely heard him over the roar of the crowd around you and the music vibrating off the walls.

“Heh, nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m gonna buy you a shot, you deserve it after that last essay. Very well thought out.” Being overly crisp in his words to achieve some kind of comedic affect you assumed. He leaned slightly into the counter, bringing you with him, and quickly ordered. Within minutes the bartender had placed the clear shots before you. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, clinking his small glass against yours, sending half of his shot onto the floor.

It burned like always, but you held back your reaction, lips barely pursing as you set the glass back down.

“Thanks,” you started, unraveling yourself from his warm body, “I gotta get back to my friends, but it was nice seeing you.” You said softly, some little part not wanting to leave him.

Suga held you out by your waist and nodded once. “Good to know you can take rough things so well, go on then.” He says with a little push.

His words confusingly haunt you for a moment before you realize he’s talking about the ‘rough’ shot you just took, even if the wording was crude. The rest of the night you agonize over what he meant. “Good to know you can take rough things.” But by next Monday, it’s as if it never happened. He carries on in class like normal and so do you, until a week later.

He’s handing back quiz scores at the end of class, conveniently leaving you until last. The way he sped through lecture today, there’s about ten minutes left and, with no professor around this day to stop him, he dismisses everyone early. Except you.

“Can you actually stay behind a few minutes? I just want to talk about your answers.” When fear flashes across your eyes, he chuckles easily just like he was back at the bar and your heartbeat only speeds up. “Nothing bad, I’m just interested in your answers.” In tense silence, the two of you stand, waiting until the last student has made their way out.

“So which question-”

“Actually, I think there’s a better way for you to improve your score.” He grins devilishly, getting up from his spot beside you to fully close the door. Suddenly the room feels very stuffy and you’re very aware of everything around you. It makes your stomach turn, you’re not sure if it’s in a good way or a bad way, but you weather through and take a deep breath.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but I’m comfortable with the score I got.”

“I know, I know, you did very well.” He soothes while he makes his way back over just to lean precariously against the very tiny desk attached beside you. “It’s just… I know you try so hard, you pay attention to me more than anyone in this class. I think you deserve extra credit just for that.”

“Oh, well, thank you.” You struggle out, trying to find the words. Brain racing, you have no clue what to make of the situation. It seems like he has everything planned out, scripted, and you’re just blindly following along like a lost, little lamb.

“You know, I notice how you blush and smile sometimes when I lecture, and you take notes just so well while I’m speaking. I mean it’s very cute, don’t get me wrong, but you pay even better attention to me than you do your own professor.” He scoffs.

The way your chest is rising and falling is visible now, you’re sure he can see it through the thin material of your little sundress. “Sorry, you’re just always so excited I guess I get caught up, but umm… are you sure there isn’t another class coming in, I jus-”

“No,” he says sternly, “there’s not another class in this room for hours. But why be worried about something like that?” Suga asks with a small, knowing smile.

“I-I, uh, well I don’t know, I just thought… just making sure I g-guess.” You sputter out, quivering voice betraying yourself.

“What did you think I meant?” He asks evenly, the smile slipping from his features. Like a fish gasping for air, your mouth bobs open and shut, struggling to find the words or maybe a lie, but he doesn’t let you. He closes the tight space between the two of you with a short kiss that you immediately sigh into.

Pleased with your relaxed reaction, he pulls away almost at once, dropping your quiz from his hands onto the floor in between you. Mind spinning, you’ve barely registered the kiss before you’re crouching down to pick up the paper.

“Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.” He says plainly, placing a hand over your shoulder.

“No problem,” you begin while you start to rise, only to be stopped by his tightening grip on you.

“Sorry, you just look so pretty down there.” He coos, taking his hand away when you relax onto your knees and place the papers back down. You don’t know what to think, especially with his noticeable bulge so directly within eyesight. You want to be here, you can’t stop thinking about how his lips felt in that brief moment or what lies beneath his pants, but you can’t help feeling a little guilty. The sound of a zipper snaps you back to the reality where you’re on your knees in front of your TA.

“I, um…”

“You can do whatever you want right now, sweetheart.” The nickname he gave you at the bar makes heat surge through your veins. “But I want you to know if you chose to stay here and to touch me, I’m not gonna hold back, mmkay?”

Taking a deep, swallowing breath you nod quickly, fingers grappling at the pale blue waistband of his boxer briefs. “I understand,” you whisper out, “I want you.”

“Okay, princess, don’t say I didn’t-” His big talk is cut off when you mouth over him through the soft fabric, licking over the tiny wet stain he’s produced. “Oh,” he chuckles meanly, “so hungry for my cock, huh?”

Nodding deftly, you tug down on the waistband, letting his length slap against his clothed abdomen. He’s pretty, neatly trimmed, and pale but with a pretty, pink tip that makes you clench around nothing. The way his thighs are tensed under his slacks, you know he’s holding back, and you don’t want to make him wait any longer.

At a careful pace, you take him into your hand, pumping gently while you guide him into your mouth. When the salty taste of his precum hits your tongue he snaps. His hands bury into the back of your neck, holding you exactly in place when he shallowly pumps himself into you. Painfully, you relax your jaw, letting him use you while big tears well up in the corners of your eyes from the sting.

Over and over again his cock hits the back of your throat, gliding past the mess of spit that’s built up in your mouth. He feels so right, so good and all you can think about is him. Your nails dig into his legs, trying to find some purchase in the smooth material of his pants.

He watches as you keep your eyes trained up on him, admiring the spit already spattered across your cheeks. “So messy, sweetheart, you’re adorable.” He says just loud enough for you to hear over his unrelenting pace.

It’s hard to understand him with how hard you’re focusing on sucking in his cock while he fucks into you. “Always knew your pretty mouth was good for more than answering stupid questions.” Suga grunts, shuddering when your throat spasms around him, and swiftly pulling out.

Panting for a bit of air, you heave on the floor, upper half only held up by the loose grip you have on his thighs. Before you can catch your breath, he’s dragging you back onto your feet and facing your body away from his. A heavy hand forces your chest down against the tiny desk before you and his feet kick yours apart.

“Wore this cute, little dress for me?” He asks, flipping up the skirt and palming over your ass.

“N-no, I had a, uh, presentation today.” You try to say, the lie evident with how heavy the words weigh on your tongue.

“Oh, shut up,” he laughs, “I know this is the only class you have today, you told me that weeks ago.” He hums, fingers toying with the edge of your underwear, moving them around across your skin this way and that until he finally pulls them down. “And you wore these slutty panties just for me too. Probably thought about touching yourself after class while you thought about me instead. Isn’t this much better though?”

“Yeah, a lot better.” You squeak as his fingers force your thighs farther apart, meeting you aching cunt just to spread your slick around.

“Your panties are ruined, completely soaked. Must have been thinking about me all class I bet.”

“N-no,” but before you can argue he presses two fingers into you, scissoring them inside of you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” He replies and you can hear the eye roll in his tone. Again, his free hand presses between your shoulder blades, squishing you harshly against the desk. With a little sigh, he takes his fingers away from you and uses both hands to perfectly position your hips for himself. “Ready, sweetheart?” He asks sweetly, pressing his tip against your entrance.

“Yes, please, please fuck me!” You cry, finally crumbling before him and burning with need.

He’s so close now you can feel him, the want that’s built up in your brain over the last couple months is nearly unbearable now. You feel his fingers curl into the flesh around your hips just before he eagerly sinks into you. Involuntarily, you let out a shaky gasp, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from crying out.

“Relax for me princess,” he grunts, partially enjoying how tightly you’re clamped around him, “this isn’t an exam.”

It’s impossible to think of a witty retort or even a weak one while you shake around his cock, desperate for him to fill you up. On their own accord, you hips twitch back trying to meet him fully, but he only laughs and keeps you in place.

“I was gonna go easy on you, but since you seem to want me so bad…” he trailed off, slowly dragging himself out, the weight of his cock heavy against your gummy walls, “...you can have me.” His final word is punctuated by a harsh snap of his hips that fills you to the brim.

All you can muster is a broken, little whimper as his thighs continually smack against your backside while he fucks you into the desk. Any regard or concern you had for the world of students or staff outside the thin walls of this room was gone and it appeared his was as well. The wet squelching smacks of your bodies meeting bounced around the walls, the thin carpet failing to dampen much of any noise at all.

Through all of your spasms and twitches his pace was unrelenting. “Go ahead and touch yourself,” he said when he noticed the way your fingers danced around, obviously preoccupied, “wanna feel your pretty, little cunt cum.”

Managing out a little sound of agreement, you quickly wedge your wrist under your body, trying your best to circle your needy clit while he’s ramming you back and forth. It doesn’t take long before your sobbing out, hips rutting against his, feeling the coil deep inside draw you closer and closer to the edge. You keep your fingers in time with his motions, making quick work of your own pleasure, not holding back when you feel the last bit of resistance before your fall.

With a short, choked cry you’re gushing around him, convulsing around his cock while he slows just enough, his own thrusts getting suddenly out of time.

“Good girl.” He groans, a brief surge of pride and energy pushing him to his own finish line, the way you’re still periodically clamping down around him certainly being of some help. “I’m gonna ruin this perfect pussy.” He barely manages to mumble out before he’s holding you deep and close, his cock twitching deep inside of you just before his cum shoots against your walls.

“Feel so good.” You sigh, fully relaxing into his touch, the sleepy haze of your orgasm overtaking your senses. As he comes down from his high, he massages your shoulders, slumping over your own exhausted body and wrapping his arms around your middle. You don’t miss how his fingers cradle just under your breasts, kneading lightly.

“I think,” he starts, still very much out of breath, “we’ll need a couple tutoring sessions, just to clear up everything.”

[thoi2020]

u have advanced??????? wow. tips to qualify mains please??? help me with my modules.how do i solve them?????????

hnnng idk bestie here's some short tips n like if u want something more specific u can send another ask or dm me?

pay attention in class. sit in the front. listen out for what things the teacher puts an emphasis on. ask questions. yes, even the stupid ones. especially the stupid ones bc those are fundamentals u cannot miss bc a shaky foundation leads to a shaky building. also pay attention to ur teachers. theyve been doing this since before u even knew about jee they know what theyre doing. most of them want whats best for u, and if not specifically that, whats best for them n their institute which are usually similar things. im not saying blindly trust them without criticism but have some faith. dont dismiss them they prolly know better than u. if id followed my teachers instructions i prolly wouldnt have had to drop (but thats a discussion for another day lol).

revise notes on a regular basis. like. the day u studied it in class. then the next day. then a week later. then 2 weeks later. then a month later. google the curve of forgetting for more accurate time stamps. use flashcards for formulae n stuff that u have to memorise like inorganic chem.

analyse past papers. recognise the most important topics. but also there are some small chapters that are quite easy and some people skip them thinking there wont be any questions from them. ive given 4 papers of mains, and i can confirm that is utter bullshit. 1 question each from units and measurements, mathematical reasoning, stats, chemistry in everyday life, polymers, are guaranteed. u can easily secure at least those marks by spending just a little bit of time on them. esp for jee mains its relatively better to cover a wide range of topics with medium depth instead of just some but with deep understanding (the latter works well for advanced tho).

make a friend or two whos in the same boat as u, preparing for jee n try to keep each other accountable. tell each other everyday what ure going to study that day n then check back the next day. remind each other hlep each other out. also be friendly with the class toppers sometimes they can solve ur doubts better than teachers just bc something they explain clicks better. whenever i get confused about logarithms i think back to what my 9th grade classmate told me when i asked him to explain in 1 sentence n had him repeat it slowly to me multiple times. its burned in my memory and helped me so much. 

practice tests. set the proper 3 hour limit and solve them. be honest w urself ure doing this for u. no point scoring 256/300 to impress ur teacher if u cheated bc on the day of the exam ure going to be screwed. in the beginning try out different strategies, different ones work for different ppl. like for me, math is my favourite and i find it easier than the other 2 so i do it first and it gives me confidence. then i move on to physics and then chem. some people look over the entire paper n solve the easiest from every section first, then the medium ones, then the tough ones. experiment in ur practice tests n figure out whats best for u n ur test taking. after the test, analyse. see what u got wrong, why u got it wrong. clarify doubts. mark problem questions to revise and solve again later. no point in solving more n more questions if theres no retention or learning.

for solving books specifically under the cut bc this is getting too long lol:

stick to 1 or 2 books max per subject. make them ur holy books and swear by them. if ure doing coaching then the modules provided by them are a very good option bc theyre specifically for jee and will cover what u need. coaching teachers will have a lot of experience with them too so u'll have an easy time with doubts clarification. if u choose other books tho, still consult with ur teacher and ask them to tell u what's relevant and what isnt and dont waste ur time on whats not. it might make u look or feel smarter to be solving questions on stuff thats beyond the scope of the exam but u literally dont need it and the syllabus is already very vast so ure just going to waste time and brainspace. like sure if ure interested study it in ur own time but dont make it an Important Must Do thing.

ok now that u have ur book with everything relevant to jee, make sure u devour them. study the theory alongside ur class notes. solve a few questions of corresponding topics the day they are covered so u dont have so many questions lined up at the end of the chapter. like if i studied friction in newton's laws of motion today, i'll solve the questions relevant to friction today itself. or u know this week. like,, keep it current. then while solving, speak out loud and explain the problem to urself like ure teaching someone else (or better yet, find someone to teach them to. stuffed toys, younger siblings, ur classmate, grandparents, online friend, whichever works). mark all the questions that took u longer than 5 mins or u cant solve at all. dog ear the pages. try them again the next day. then again a few days later. take the ones u still cant solve to ur teacher. try n ask for just a hint once and try again. and then if u cant then ask for the solution. DO NOT go on the internet. ur brain doesnt have to work for it then n u think u got it but u dont got it. make ur brain work for the solution so it'll remember. 

now that uve given a good shot to every question and figured out where u stumble. analyse a bit. find a pattern if theres any: like a certain concept that is weak or something ure not understanding. read the theory for it if u have to n ask questions to clarify. then solve these problem questions again and again until u know every question well enough to be able to explain to someone. skip over the easy ones u dont gotta do them again n again, focus on the ones u stumbled on. theyre the weak spots. no use strengthening whats already strong enough.

and uh keep a notebook of the solutions of the questions u solve so that u dont have to go crazy searching for them in an emergency. like ur paper is tomorrow and u cant figure out this question that uve been trying for 1 hour then its a good time to review ur previous solution and refresh ur memory. often if uve practiced enough n its just exam stress etc thats making ur mind go blank then just a hint will be enough to remind u.

also this is more general but just. be consistent. small consistent efforts over multiple days instead of a big one in 1 day. u’ll retain better and ur brain does better with multiple small chunks spread out over an interval than a lot of stuff in a small one. and its ok to to have an off day dont kill urself over academics ur health is more important always. not getting into ur dream college might fuck u up but itll heal but ur health is more precarious and not getting enough sleep or food will def fuck u up and the consequences are a lot harder to deal with. dont think about the big picture or u’ll freak urself out just think about the next small step u can take. getting 99 percentile feels impossible but solving 10 questions for it does not. dont get disheartened by test results if ure working hard n smart u wont fail. even if u dont get into ur dream college u’ll have an excellent work ethic that’ll take u places u never thought of in ur wildest dreams. more than anything, be kind to urself and work n play hard.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

i’m an idiot. i screw everything up.

Titans 3.03

still here, still doing this. these reviews take a fair bit of time that i cobble together across days (like, ten minute chunks during breaks, etc) and i tend to struggle to keep up with episodes as they come out. this means that by the time i’m done with one, most of my stuff is jossed (or geoffed in this case? idk) or outdated and the post sinks like a stone into oblivion. so! i’m going to change things up a bit with this one and write as i see the episode rather than collecting my thoughts later. in my experience with spn, that was a faster way to get them done. 

anyway. let’s see how it goes! *shadowboxes*

SPOILERS ahead.

1. an auspicious start with some grave-digging!

digging up a grave and breaking open a coffin is some serious, back-breaking work--that dick did it on his own, likely straight after that fight with red hood, is a testament to the sheer intensity, stamina and discipline that he’s capable of. like, we like to joke about dick cooking cauliflower crust pizzas and making gar and rachel spar and memorise sun tzu--and despair at the obvious consequences of some of bruce’s parenting skills--but imagine crime-fighting almost daily without any superpowers, performing some of the most intense parkour in bulky, uncomfortable armour, doing detective work, pushing through every last barrier of exhaustion and then getting up to repeat it all over again the next day. dick probably thought he was going extra-easy on rachel and gar.

1.5. then again, dick probably had a hundred different easier ways to confirm whether jason was still buried or not, from using equipment to merely asking connor to have a quick look with his x-ray vision. but, no, he’s too caught up in confusion and terror, not really having come to terms with jason’s death in the first place, leave alone the possibility that he could be alive after all. he can’t possibly let the others know until he’s confirmed it himself, even if it means digging all through the night until his arms are jelly, thinking over and over again about jason’s eyes, jason’s voice, from behind that red mask. 

... besides, dick has good reason to believe that he could’ve been hallucinating. wouldn’t be his first psychotic episode, after all.

that just imbues this sweaty, desperate, fingers-scrabbling-in-gravedirt scene with that much more poignancy, and a fair bit of bone-chilling terror. dick is horrified to realise that jason’s grave is empty, but a part of him is also probably relieved.

1.75 (... also it’s curious that we’re never shown any of the team asking to see jason’s grave after they come to wayne manor. i guess it’s because the writers--and the audience--know that jason is actually alive, but these people don’t know that. i don’t know if it’s sad or infuriating or both that they’re barely shown mourning him.)

2. oh GOD the sheer TENSION in kory saying, “i don’t want to say it, but--” and dick quickly interrupting, “it was jason. i saw him,” and hank giving him this loaded sidelong glance. i love how dick’s precarious mental health from last season is still this big elephant in the room but at least nobody’s blowing up in his face and questioning his every decision yet

2.25. i love the relative matter-of-factness with which they’re discussing a possible resurrection. and, of course, ra’s al ghul is brought up and quickly dismissed

(still wouldn’t put it past this show to bring him up at the very last second as the real real mastermind)

2.5. “maybe they can bring donna back” OH KORY

2.75. didn’t they have this same conversation about killing/not killing rose last season? man, the og titans make me tired.

and i don’t know if it’s just hank, but there’s a definite in-group/out-group vibe going on with the og titans, where they’re not only ready to consider killing anybody who threatens the group but makes it difficult for new people to fit in. donna and kory got along well with each other, but the dynamics between hank/donna/dawn and gar/rachel/rose were somewhat strained, and with jason, they were really fucking terrible. it makes sense when you think about how the titans started and how they broke up the first time--both were fairly disruptive events, i’d imagine, in that they probably got together to break away from their mentors and strike out on their own, and when they split up, it was the first time they felt directly responsible for the loss of an innocent life.

but the titans that dick is leading now is explicitly about mentoring a young generation of heroes, about second chances and found family. dick definitely wants to reach out to him first, and i have a feeling he’s going to be forced to make some sort of terrible Choice later on in this episode. 

2.8. (honestly tho, this also seems like hank struggling with his own guilt re: jason; if red hood is not the kid that he failed, it’d be easier to fight him.)

3.

HANK NO

4. honestly this season is already ticking off so many things on my wishlist, but i really wish dick would sit down with the newer members of his team and trust them with important information the same time that he’s telling them to the other members. gar searching for help and reassurance from a man who just dumped all of his responsibilities on his son overnight and went AWOL is a sad sight

4.25. has it only been just 48 hours????? wow! jason’s definitely been planning the red hood gig for a long time now...

5. ezekiel, my man! shady looking guy gets into your cab without a destination in mind... no problem, get right in! said guy gets a call to go to the observatory when he’s barely even looked out of the window so far at gotham... yep, a damn tourist! i want more ezekiel in this show.

5.25. (of course jason has upturned table lamps all along the floor... we have to *gritted teeth* balance the TEAL with the ORANGE don’t we?)

5.5. “dick’s a fucking psycho--he could be following you right now.” hank... has no objection to that lol

5.25. hank, hank... this is bad-decision-palooza. i can’t imagine that hank actually thought that jason was reaching out to him for help, given that the last time hank and jason had any substantial interaction hank had been one of the people accusing jason of sabotaging the team. but for him to go seek out jason and go along with his demands without any backup, weapons or equipment? not the best idea he’s ever come up with.

(add to that getting into the swimming pool of a condemned gym... oh yuck.)

((yes, i have enough self-restraint to not cap his ass.))

(((cap his ass! HA!)))

5.5. do you think jason has bugs/monitoring equipment planted in wayne manor to monitor the titans, or remote access to the cave’s systems? wouldn’t put it past him.

6. oh man, hank came back before dick and the others could meet ezekiel! this is TRAGIC

6.25. i mean, it’s plot-convenient that connor was able to give so much information about the bomb from just looking at it once, but i also like to think it’s the luthor-side of him coming to the fore. it also reminds me of that (in)famous scene from the new52 run of Nightwing comics, where a bomb was attached to nightwing’s heart and luthor disabled it by killing nightwing (temporarily). it’s a neat little callback. 

6.55. “where i come from, you go after family? there’s no mercy.” BUT THAT’S THE PROBLEM ISN’T IT

6.75. i mean, dick’s making sense: this is a game, and they need to get it off playing out on jason’s terms. but having a member of his team in his face, doubting his reasoning and every decision? a very familiar sight. 

6.8. krypto with an a+ sense of humour? also a very familiar sight.

7. wayne enterprises... providing the military with... bombs that can be implanted in humans? a BIIIIG yikes. i guess it’s not too many steps above developing clandestine intra-dermal trackers and implanting them in your own sons, and bruce probably thought they could be used as part of negotiation tactics, but still... YIKES.

7.5. on the other hand, conner being asked to build a deactivation advice seems part of a growth arc that started from last season... he knows so much, but part of growing is learning, and part of learning is using what you know to create something new.

8. oh man, my heart broke at hank going “i’m an idiot... i screw everything up.” like. for him to go like this, after being brought down to such a low last season? struggling with pain and addiction and his relationship with the love of his life? it’s so sad.

9. oh, oh, oh! ronnie from schitt’s creek! i love her!

9.5. “one of jason’s minions” took his body out of the morgue... how deliciously morbid that he planned out his own death like this!

10. TALK TO HANK, DICK

honestly, tho, i’m quite impressed with dick here. trying to think beyond just the most alarming part of the crisis at hand, keeping his cool, delegating tasks, frequently touching base with different members of his team... well done. 

10.25.... whoops, spoke too soon. i’m genuinely confused here, tho. where did the van full of gold bars come from? why did they stop there and get out? how did dawn even know about this?

on the other hand, it’s cool to know dove has bulletproof feathers!

10.5. eh... curran walters isn’t really selling red hood’s menace to me so far. but then again, if titans version of red hood is vulnerable-kid-with-father-issues-trying-to-overcompensate, then yeah! yeah, it makes sense. 

11. “when bats have sex, they gotta have something to hang from” OH GOD HANK

... because i want smiley!gar on my blog :)

11.5. awww. i feel sorry for hank but NONE of these fuckers deserve gar except maybe kory

12. ohhh FUCK! look at jason being exactly one step ahead of the titans at every turn. nice.

no really, i love the building stakes and the building mystery - i feel like the deathstroke arc from last season should’ve been more like this. the flashbacks about jericho and rose came too late and after too much build up, which resulted in a very underwhelming and confusing season throughline.

13. HANK AND DIIIIIICCCKKK

“you’re doing your best by me. always have.” WAILING HERE

it also kills me to think that hank thinks that his imminent death is because of his failure to keep the team together (when he was clearly struggling with his own issues and was spiralling towards rock-bottom) and his fear that he will once again be the cause of the team falling apart. 

also:

14. “i grew up... you can, too. you just have to face your fear.”

yep, got scarecrow’s grubby little fingerprints aaaaalllll over this. 

14.25. nightwing’s got specialised batarangs! yay! (somehow i can’t see this universe’s dick calling them “wingdings”)

15. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

oh man, that was devastating. well done, show. fuck, well done, jason.

this is going to bring up all sorts of “if onlys” for the team. i can’t wait for some fucking aftermath. 

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Della Arc Reviews: The Last Crash of the Sunchaser!

Hello all you happy people. I’ve been dreading this one.. not because it’s bad. Quite the oppisite. In fact on rewatch I was marveling at how brilliant this one was and remembering why it was on my best of list. But because the ending, as you all well know, is the most gutwrenching part of the entire series. Three seasons and lots of other heartrending moments.. and the ending of this episode from the big reveal to that final shot above tears you the fuck apart. It’s hard to watch even know it all works out in the end and that i’d be watching the conclusion the next day instead of having to wait a rather painful week like I did at first airing. It’s just that good. So join me under the cut for a review of one of the series finest half hours and some of David Tennant’s best work as we crash the Sunchaser one last time.. for this season... and i think Launchpad crashes it again in the finale so I don’t get that title. 

So our plot for the episode is that 

Yes Clan McDuck is taking their version of a vacation. It’s off to Monocrow for the E.X.C.E.S.S. Expo! Yes it’s the EXCESS Expo! With the latest in racecars lasers and many more! The EXCESS Expo! With booths from such welcome guests as Stark International, Muppet Labs, S.T.A.R. Labs, VenTech, The Franklin Sherman Memorial Fishmobabywhirlomgig Institute, TCRI, Gryzzl, Sumdac Systems, G-Heavy Industries, Tylerco, Lexcorp, Wayne Enterprises, Quickstart, The Gizmonic Institute, Alchemax,and Baintronics! But that’s not all! We also have huge paneeellls! Hank Pym’s “The ethics of dating your robot grandaughter”, Reed Richards “How to Dispatch an Evil Council made up entirely of yourself!”, Victor Von Dooms “CURSE YOU RICHARDS I’M SMARTER FOR I AM DOOM”, Stanford Pines with “How to Kill a Godlike Demon and Get your Smile Back”, Dr. Bunsen Hondedew with “How to abuse your assitant in 2020″ Dr.Light with “The Ethics of helping your robot child fight an evil albert einstein”, Profesor Henry Hidgens with “The incoming apocalypse with songs from Working Boys: A New Musical” Ray Palmer “Welcome To Pain”, and you know our friend Ass Dan will be in full effect> yeah bitch you know he’s going to live forev... what’s that? He’s dead. oh shame. Someone call rusty venture. Yes I know i’m typing this. Shut up. THE EXCESS EXPO. BE THERE OR WE’LL SEND OUR ROBOTS AFTER YOU. 

... Where.. Where was I? Oh yes, big vacation. Monocrow.. which sadly is not just a big field with just Crow T. Robot in it. Someday you’ll get MST3K/Ducktales Jake, someday. Point is our heroes are excited, and Scrooge is also there to find the Maltese MacGuffin, a mysterious artifact no one’s ever seen. And the kids and Scrooge have their own specail guest joining them: Bentina! Yeah turns out she has hundreds of vacation days built up, and simply hasn’t used them so she’s using a few to join them. It also once again shows how much less of a heartless money monster this Scrooge is as any of his employees asking for a vacation, paid or not, in the comics would result in this:

So their off on their greatest adventure.. with Louie having’ bought something mysterious along with him he’s only telling the other kids about. On with the intro!

Beakly.. is intstantly not at ease as they take off after driving their jeep into the plane. She feels launchpad is reckless, rightfully so not helped by a lack of seatbelts on the plane or his cheefully saying the closest he’s got, a floatie, will help “When” we crash. She’s also equally annoyed by Scrooge’s cavalier attitude, having intrusted the kids to him only to find out what the adventueres are really like. And this is the only part of the episode that REALLY doesn’t work. She KNOWS these two idiots too well for this to be beliviable. Launchpad wrecks part of the mansion at least once a day, and before Duckworth she had to clean that shit up. He’s there all the time.. and more damingly HE DROVE YOU AND YOUR KID, YOUR KIDS BEST FRIENDS, AND YOUR KIDS GIRLFRIEND TO THE FUCKING MOVIES. I can’t buy given how bad a driver launchapd is she didn’t wrench the wheel from him to prevent their early graves. Scrooge meanwhile is her BEST FRIEND. And until season 2 for her and 3 for him ONLY friend. Sure she works for him, but outside of one incident in this episode he treats her as his equal more than his housekeeper for the entire series. They trust each other more than anyone else at this point. And the only other two people Scrooge ends up trusting as much are Donald and Della. She’s been around him enough to know how he is. What did she THINK he was going to be like with the kids? She’s met the twins, and even mroe so is on good terms with Donald even into the pilot and they only got off on bad terms due to clashing over house rules. So she KNWOS this is what he does with children. You can’t be shocked Scrooge took children on death defying adventures in a barely secured plane after all this time. It’d be like giving Donald a turkey to carve and being suprised when it ends in this...

It just dosen’t work especially with a professional spy! Her job is reading people! And yes I know many of you are going to say “Well she misread Bradford”... but so did Scrooge and so many others. NO ONE suspected him. He’s that good. So her suddenly having a complaint about all this stuff when she could’ve come along anytime to check it out or just looked at the plain bothers me a LOT. Thankfully it’s only really present at the start as while it sets off her concern their back and forth soon has a far deeper meaning. But Scrooge insists Launchpad take her on a tour to ease her worry, seems like a contrdictary set of sentences there, while he flies. How hard could it be. Somewhere on the Moon, Della has the sudden urge to kick her uncle’s ass. 

So meanwhile in a secret base set up in a cargo box, the kids are working on the Della mystery. Turns out what Louie smuggled aboard was the documents shredded on the date the boys found on the Spear of Selene plans. Louie got them by smooth talking Quackfaster who even he found nuts. It also once again shows Dewey was only holding things back by keeping the other boys out as in jus weeks, since chronologically there were two other episodes between this and the last Della episode versus just one, their almost to the truth as one document from that day is simply torn into pieces and simply needs to be re-jiggered like a puzzle. Like most puzzles though naturally once they get it all together they find there’s one goddamn piece missing and it ends up loose int he plane flitting around... just as Scrooge majorly screws up and bumps things, leading Beakly to wonder where the kids are and them to scramble out. 

So yeah Scrooge seemingly crashed the plane.. except Launchpad notes that if they crashed.. why are they still airborne? This leads to everyone finding out their precariously perched on a VERY narrow rock that’s skewered the plane. Orignially the crew decided to strictly adhere to the concept that any movement would rock the thing.. but realized i’td make things boring visually so they allowed themselves some artistic license. 

So yeah our heroes are stuck in a hard place and Scrooge stubbornly digs in insisting he can fix this and turns on the plane.. which sends it spinning and prevents Dewey from getting the piece which ends up wedged in the jeep. Huh I think we need some appropriate music for going in circles. 

So yeah all Scrooge did was blow up one of the engines... I mean the blow up the engine button is right there, would’ve saved you some time. So Beakley berates him for not calling for help and digging in and for it’s next plan it’s time for Handyman Corner where he’s going to show you how to jumpstart a plane with a jeep’s engine. Beakly is not impressed and Scrooge’s case is not helped as Louie feigns fear , with Huey and Webby following his lead, so Dewey can get the piece. Unfortunately pointing out the very REAL dangers they face, with Huey giving the odds and Webby pointing out unlike most dangers they face there’s no easy way out and no villian to fight, sends Louie into an actual panic, jumpstarting the car  and causing the cargo bay to open, leading to one hell of a sequence: From Bentina driving a butterfly knife into the ground to hold the kid’s secret base crate (and wondering why it’s so heavy), to Launchpad desperatley platforming his way to saftey to scrooge swining in with his cane to rescue them. It’s some whopper animation that really shows off how damn good the team was and how gorgeous this show truly was at it’s best. 

The results aren’t good: the plane’s ballnce is now off so even a slight movement can move it, a holdover from the original idea simply saved for when it’d create the most tension. As a result Dewey can’t get the last piece as he can’t move and Scrooge berates the kids and has thems tay still watching the end credits of darkwing duck (It’s launchpad’s inflight movie and the tape is jammed to that section.

IT’s here the Scrooge and Beakley stuff went from poorly written to “oh shit” in one line. Scrooge is getting more and more desperate to prove he can take care of the kids on his own but Beakely’s demeanor has turned from annoying scolding.. to genuine concern and PLEADING with him not to go through with another dumb stunt that will leave them in a worse situation, int his case using the parachutes as counterweights to fix the engine. He refuses both rebuffing her as “your boss” (Which gets her rightfully pulling on the cord too tight) .. but then that one line comes in “I can protect her”. Beakley is confused.. but it instantly makes clear this is about Della and on rewatch now knowing the reveal at the end.. it makes it that much more heartbreaking. Part of his refusal to backdown is his natural nature as a stubborn ass. It’s been well displayed throughout this season and the ones after it: HIs refusal to backdown from nevverst, his jealousy of Dewey for being better at him and his refusal to accept it.. the man just does not back down and while it’s good in tight spots and against bad guys, as he finds a way out for him and his family with sheer grit and badassery... it’s a massive character flaw when dealing with people, as refusing to actually talk to them like a ratoinoal adult only makes things worse. And boy oh boy is he about to make things worse. But the other part is he can’t admit to himself there’s a risk in his lifestyle and that he can’t keep everyone safe constantly.. that theres inherent danger. He’s bought into the “because i’m scrooge mcduck” mantra here not out of his ego, entirely, but because he can’t let that not be enough again. He can’t LOOSE someone again like he lost Della and he can’t fail again. So his worst trait and his greatest trauma have mixed to make him act so rashly even Launchpad takes some shouting to agree to give him the other parachute. It’s clear he’s endangering EVERYONE to prove he can save them. 

Eventually though things reach their head as Dewey CAN’T take the wait anymore. He’s waited his whole life to find out about his momma, and the answer’s feet away... and he can’t let it sit any longer. He HAS to know what happened. So he goes for it, though the rest of the kids are against it since i’ts highly risky and they can wait Huey ends up agreeing to help using his Junior Woodchuck knowledge (Where Newton apparently got the idea), to counterbalance hsi weight and guide him via walkee talkee. It’s a really nice moment, not only showing off Huey’s skill and intellect but also how much they care for her. Dewey may of screwed up last time but their still the duck boys and if he can’t talk him out of being sucidially reckless.. Huey’s going to at least give him a fighting chance. 

Unfortunately Scrooge spots him mid argument with Beakley and naturally wants him to give it here... but once the ship buckles when Dewey tries we get the scene that makes the episode. Up till now the tension has been top notch, ratcheting up by bit, not knowing if the kids would get caught, if something would happen with the plane all building to this. Scrooge and Dewey’s final chase. Dewey uses the distraction to make a runner for it with Scrooge following.. and Launchapd using the fact he’s still attached to the airbag to stop him. It’s a small but excellent character moment, showing that as much as Launchpad loves his boss.. he loves his best friend and eveyrone else’s saftey more. SCrooge of course uses it to knock him back while Beakley and the kids counterbalance. We also get the best joke of the episode as Beakley tells them to stop running.. only for them to simply start tip toeing, with Bentina’s reaction being a perfectly resigned “That’s not what I meant and you know it”. 

It’s a tense chase, with both sides using the enviorment to their advantage from the parachute to the crate.. and it’s breaking open reveals something’s gonig on and causes Beakley to notice Webby has the blueprints in her pocket and once she unfurls them and finds out what they are.. she can only give a sad, remorseful “oh children, what have you been up to” She’s not even mad like they seem to think.. she’s just sad, knowing the wound that’s about to be reopened for her closest friend and the one that’s about to be inflicted on those poor children, and knowing that they’re ALL made it worst by hiding it. Toks deserves all the praise for her delivery here. 

Eventually the piece blows outside of the plane and Dewey refuses to give up and go after it. Things get their most tense as everyone BEGS him not to come back, it’s not worth his death to get this. It’s not worth all of this. But he simply chucks the walkee away and ignores them. We then get Scrooge going from scolding grandpa.. to dearly begging Dewey to come back... David’s delvery here is just heartbreaking “I can’t protect you. Is that what you wanted me to say. Please lad just tell me what it will take to come back inside?” And Ben Schwartz meets it with an utterly emotional “Tell me about the spear of selene”. The animation here is once again some of the series best with Dewey’s determined face and Scrooge’s heartbreak as he realizes he has to finally stop hiding this from them and he’s not ready. So he takes his uncles hand.. and if you thought all of this is painful.. oh boy.. we’re just getting started. 

So back in the plane, with Launchpad setting up a table and a proper counterbalance so they can all sit, Scrooge finally explains and the boys, webby, and us int he audience all get the answers we desperately wanted: It was 10 1/2 years ago. The Original Trio had journeyed the world, having all sorts of adventures and making themselves into legends. But eventually you hit a wall and they’d realized they’d been just about everywhere. They could still globetrot of courser and as Season 3 would bear out there were some places they didn’t know about.. but the earth was about used up. So Della, being an aerospace wunderkind, thought of the next logical place to go. The stars. The Spear of Selene was a rocket, her pet project to give her kids, who she was expecting at the time the stars. 

Thing was Donald wasn’t on board with this at all. And the clash between the two, which we see in the flashback but don’t hear since Scrooge is narrating all of this over some cool looking semi-still images, was inetiviable. As I coverd in the spear of selene review I feel Donald was burnt out at this point. That he was tired of adventures and just wanted normalcy even before Scrooge forced his hand with what was to happen next. So to him Della should just settle down, live a regular life and raise those kids. The problem is... Della WASN’T burnt out. She didn’t need a break to live a normal life like Donald badly needed. She wanted to keep going and it was her choice. While Donald ultimately was right about the risk, he was wrong to try and force her into a life she didn’t want and project on her like that. 

What happened next though was all on Scrooge and Della. Scrooge simply did the thing that’s likely part of why Donald resents him so much and it took so long to fix thing: He ignored what Donald felt and thought, sided with Della and built the ship without telling either of them. His selfishness, thinking he knows what best and treatment of donald.. all backfired horribly. Della sussed out the ship.. and I still feel she was suspicious on her own.. and that Bradford telling her was him simply handing her a lit fuse knowing it’d go off and WHATEVER happened as a result of this would break scrooge. Even if the rocket had gone off saftely and everything was fine.. he could easily claim Della threatned him,k which she probably did and he simply went with it, and either way Donald would be unable to forgive either SCrooge or Della for the deciet. It just went better, and worse than he could’ve anpiciapted: much like the fantastic four she took the ship in the dead of night and hit a cosmic storm, with Scrooge only finding out in time to try and help her.. but the storm hit the ship.. and unlike the ff instead of gaining the power to turn invisible, she simply disappeared. She was lost. He and Donald didn’t speak again after Donald found out till 6 months ago. 

If that wasn’t heartbreaking enough.. it gets worse. The kids, full of fresh pain and anger over Scrooge’s part in things, their mom abandoning them, and their uncles hiding this for decades.. take it out on the one person there. Frank and Matt recently said in an artcle detailing the best 7 episodes from one site, or at least what the site considered to be the best, that Donald was absent because  he also knew and would’ve told them sooner. I also feel it’s because he would’ve disarmed this conflict, at least admitting what scrooge did alongside beakley. As mad as he was.. his own anger had started to disapate. The wound was fresh to the boys and thus they lashed out. 

Dewey blames him for it outright, Huey tell shim he should’ve called her back, and Louie tells him he shoudl’ve sent a fleet of ships to find her. As we find out in the somehow even MORE crushing ending he did the last two and as I made clear, and the show does, this was Della’s horrible decision. She took an unfinsihed rocket, she left her kids, she did this. While she regretted it and I don’t hold it against her because she spent 10 years away from the mon the moon, she’s suffered THROUGHLY for it and I don’t feel I need to pile on, Scrooge wasn’t wholly responsible. Still partly. Dewey makes things worse by impling scrooge GAVE UP ON HER because it cost too much. 

Look the rest of it is valid, if misguided, as Beakley tries to chime in on it and correct them knowing the full story. But claming, no matter how greedy he is that Scrooge would ABANDON HER.. that’s just wrong and he knows it. It’s why Scrooge gets so upset.. and why he pushes the last two people in his corner away. Webby critisizes building the rocket and Scrooge belts out “This is a family matter, your not family”. runing his position and poisiong his one ally by lashing out at someone who DID NOT DESERVE THIS. Make no mistake, this is present day scrooge’s WORST action. The past scrooge did worse, we saw that, but this is almost worse than the goat thing. Telling a child h’ed basically adopted, ignoring the finale twist for this as it’s irrelvant and all it does is twist the knife deeper, that “she’s not family” just because he wants someone to be mad at besides his boys... that’s fowl. Everyone’s against him except launchpad and tha’ts where his stubbornesst ragically comes in: he digs in his heels refuses to explain.. and the plane crashes due to it. though safely. Their safe.. but the family is broken. 

So we get our hell of an ending scenes. Donald cheerfully announces to the boys, who earlier had no intention of leaving anyway, the boats finished.. only for Dewey to inform him “We know abotu the spear of selene” . Donald is heartbroken, not only that they know.. but that he didn’t tell them. 

But since “it gets worse” is this episodes motto, we end on Beakley, Webby and Duckworth all leaving on vacation. How a ghost does vacations I dunno, maybe he’s going to go to Amity Park. Point is Webby, despite EVERYTHING , is crestfallen he’s not even going to say goodbye and still worried. As I said in my review of the finale.. it’s her heart that makes her and while Scrooge may be a dick right now.. he’s family. So we get the final lines of the episode Beakley: Well, you've successfully pushed your family and everyone who ever cared about you away... again. I hope you're happy. Scrooge:I AM

It’s just damn heartbreaking.. once again he’s lost everything and is too bitter to admit it and try and get it back. And as we see between the lines.. the boys were wrong: He drained his bin and his buisnesses creating a fleet to get Della back, and kept going despite the expense. He did everything he could to call her back. Nothing worked.. and he only stopped because the board yanked him away, Bradford sneering with pride as his plan, which backfired HORRIBLY, had at last finally gotten him what he wanted: a broken scrooge tired of adventure. And as Scrooge sits in his chair seething.. he’s broken again, angry, with tears in his eyes, loving nobody.. and nobody loving him, eerily mimickcking his first appearance in comics. 

Final Thoughts: 

This episode is a masterpice. It’s perfectly paced, with only a minor flaw tha’ts qwuickly snuffed out for a gripping drama. This was a gamble, taking 9 minutes where ther’es almost no jokes and just pure tensino and heartbreak.. but it paid off. This episode is one of the series finest and leads to one hell of a finale but on it’s own.. it’s nigh untouchable. This is the series at it’s best, and the finale and later information (More about Della and the spear, WEbby’s true origin, bradford’s role in all this and role as head of fowl), only make it better, with all those things being aware to the creators but not us. They really made us wait for this reveal but damn if it wasn’t perfect. 

Next Time: Webby, Bentina and Launchpad try to desperatley piece the family back together before the boys and donald leave forever.. and Scrooge’s darkest hour leaves him vunerable for his greatest foe. It’s finally time to get back to Lena as the Shadow War descends over our heroes.

If you liked this review, follow for more and you can comission your own reviews by paying me 5 bucks to review any episode you like. Message me to talk it over. And if you’d rather get a gaurantted review every month, hit up my patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet. For 5 bucks a month you get a review every month and as of now special thanks in each review. Even a buck a month gets the thanks and helps and my next stretch goal, which is 5 bucks away nets everyone a review of darkwing duck everymonth for my lovely patreons to vote on. Special thanks to my patreons Emma and Kev, and I will see you at the next rainbow. 

[elektriknachosss]

BET (pt. 2) (NSFW)

Nick Amaro x Reader (~1200 words I think? Who knows)

Pt 1

It had been about a week since you two had made the bet, and you were dying to see what Nick came up with. He had insisted that he have free reign to decide when he was gonna send it to you, and you agreed — you could give him that at least. Plus, you thought the anticipation would be fun.

For the first few days you had jumped every time your phone buzzed, and had kept it charging under the desk just in case something untoward happened to pop up on your screen. Didn’t need your coworkers getting any ideas about the kind of shit you and your man got up to, or seeing any of his equipment. 

But that was about a week ago, and while you were still excited about your little bet, it had slipped your mind over the past few days when a giant project had landed on your desk and taken up all your time. So you weren’t prepared when your phone buzzed that morning, and opened it without thinking.

You had expected something PG-13, or at least PG, but instead what you got was a pic of your husband’s left hand wrapped around his NYPD coffee mug, proudly displaying his wedding band.

NICK📲: “I think being married to you is pretty sexy.” 

You chuckled. 

Yeah, you wished he had sent something a little more racy, but when he was being this sweet, how could you be mad? Plus, he didn’t have an office like you did, you reminded yourself. He worked in an open office space, he couldn’t just go around all day with a raging bo—

Your next thought was cut off when the phone in your hands lit up again.

It was another picture, from Nick.

And this was not a hand.

Instead, it was a picture of your husband’s pants and an ENORMOUS bulge running what looked half way down his thigh.

“Jesus,” you breathed out softly, despite yourself.

You peered at the picture further and confirmed — this was definitely the hardest you’d ever seen your husband get — he was usually pretty good at hiding it, and also wasn’t afraid to take you into a bar bathroom for a quickie if needed, so any “situations” usually didn’t last long.

But this was long. And it wasn’t hiding.

How were you even supposed to respond to that? 

You could feel your mouth start to water at all the things you wanted to do with that bulge — touch it, taste it, lick it, ride it, fucking inhale it. You clenched your thighs together and looked around to see if any of your coworkers are looking at you. Of course they weren’t, and they wouldn’t have seen anything if they had been, but you still felt deliciously naughty and rebellious. 

You debated telling him to go in the bathroom and FT you, but thought better of it. If you succeeded in riling him up enough, the payout tonight would be even greater.

You were about to text him back something cheeky, when your phone buzzed again

NICK📲: See what you do to me, amor? Just thinking about you gets me hard as fuck even when I’m sitting at my desk. But now it’s your turn. Show me yours, querida.”

You smirked inwardly, and typed out a quick response:

📱I don’t think that was part of the deal baby.”

You could almost hear Nick sigh as you watched the typing bubbles blinking on the screen, and your assumptions were confirmed when the next message came in.

NICK 📲You always play so hard to get, princesa.😣 Why can’t you let a guy catch a break?”

You laughed out loud happily. Nick had his fun and flirty moments in person, but was usually pretty straightforward via text. If he was using emojis, that meant he was in an especially kinky flirty mood. 

📱Be good, Nick.”

NICK 📲 It’s hard when you’re always on my mind.

📱Yes, I can see exactly how hard it is.

NICK 📲 Then you know that this probably isn’t going to go away anytime soon. I can’t go around all day like this, mami. If you’re not gonna send me a picture, I think you’re just gonna have to come on over here during your lunch break and help me out.

You snickered. As much as you desperately wanted to go, you were still committed to teasing him, and you were sure that if you did it well enough, you would be in for one of the sexiest nights of your life. A sexually frustrated Nick was a wild Nick, and wild Nick always, without fail, made it his mission to fucking ruin you.

📱Sorry babe, I’ve got a huge project to finish up here today. But I think I’m on track to be done before 5, so I can be home when you get there, if you want.” 

—————————-

Nick tapped a pencil against his lips and tried to think. It had become clear that you weren’t coming over and he had had to deal with the situation himself – – he had thought of the latest Rangers’ loss, his abuela’s old cat smell and messy kisses, and the mountain of paperwork left for him to do that day – – anything that would cool him down and help him reduce the embarrassingly large bulge in his pants. 

He had to come up with something really good to get back at you for this bet, and for the precarious situation you had put him in for a large part of the afternoon. He had barely been able to get up and get coffee or use the copier, and Liv had definitely thought it was weird that he remained seated in his office chair while the whole team conducted a review of their latest case file and pinned evidence to the corkboard.

He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate payback for all of these indignities, though, and frustrated, he turned back to his work. 

That’s when he saw it. In a garment bag laid over the side of his desk, under some old files, was his officer’s uniform. He had taken it to get dry-cleaned a few weeks back and forgotten to hang it up in his locker, but now he smirked at it. 

You had been begging him to come home in his blues for ages, and he had always held out — at first because it seemed a little weird to him to bring work home like that, but the more you talked about it, the more he realized what a fantasy it was for you, and he decided to save it for a special occasion.

That occasion was definitely tonight. Ohhh yes, he thought as he clipped the handcuffs to the uniform’s belt and shoved the nightstick in his messenger bag. You were going to be puddy in his hands. 

^^Nick coming home to fuck your shit up.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 26

Read on AO3.  Part 25 here. Part 27 here.

Summary: You're not sure what Ren is thinking. You're not sure what you're thinking, either.

Words: 2900

Warnings: Handmaid’s Tale AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: I feel like every time I try to write this fic, I'm just... like... "Oh, let's try an action scene. Oh, let's try to write a party. Oh, let's fuckin', uh, inject some attempt at connection and emotion"? I don't know, haha. Reply down below if you think Anna be doin' too much.

That being said, the support and engagement I receive from y'all truly makes my day and week and life better. Every single comment is so special to me, I don't take any of it for granted. I feel so lucky and love y'all so much. Thank you! <3

The Knight stepped forward as you crossed the gate, a black wall of carbon and fabric, the pointed red cross on the breast of his cape the only break in the shadow. “Commander Ren requests your presence.”

You stopped, tossing a glance over the masked man before nodding. An escort wasn’t typical--not for you, anyway. “Well. Lead the way.”

The Knights Templar had been patrolling Kylo Ren’s property since before he’d returned from the hospital. After he’d called them to Snoke’s to alter the scene, his home had been monitored by at least three of them at any given time. One had gone with you when you were questioned by the Eyes--thanks to Christine’s report that a guard had killed Commander Snoke, you’d been given the benefit of the doubt and released in silence. A good thing, too, since otherwise they might have discovered the suspiciously bloody handprints on your tits.

Today, you spotted two of the Knights at the front gate and two posted at the side-yards--meaning the last two were in the back. You’d only ever seen all six the first day they’d arrived.

He turned, the flutter of his cape revealing the rifle strapped across his torso, and marched up the driveway, past Ren’s Audi, guiding you into the home. The bag in your hand seemed just ounces heavier as you trailed him, heart fluttering at the thought of seeing your Commander. It’d been over a week since you’d spoken. Your last conversation hadn’t gone well.

In a way, it’d been almost a relief on your poor body as it recovered from the concussion, the welts, the hickeys, the scabs on your knees and back. Even your cunt was grateful for a breather--you hadn’t realized what several days of being constantly, aggressively fucked by Kylo Ren’s massive dick had done for your pain tolerance.

That being the case, you would’ve been lying if you said that you hadn’t spent the days since your last tryst remembering the taste of copper on his tongue, the slickened slip of blood on your clit, how he’d looked coated in crimson under the summer sun as the heat of victory, of unity had pumped through you both. That connection had cracked open your ribs, lead your foolish heart to slaughter with the promise of security in your Commander’s arms. You weren’t delusional to believe that he wanted you as more than his Handmaid--no, the delusion had been the belief that he’d ever see you as his equal.

The Knight led you through the home, and you dropped off your bag in the kitchen--Emma and Rose were clattering away, and you heard Johana’s voice, a needle in your ears.

“No, no, don’t be stupid. Those don’t go there. Emma, will you start the tomato salad for the bruschetta, already? We need at least three different hors d'oeuvres--do you want to be shipped off to the Colonies?”

“Ms. Johana, please, I’m just now--”

“Get to work.”

You frowned. It sounded as if they were preparing for something, but what it could be, you didn’t know. The thought of another dinner party made your stomach roil.

The doors to Kylo Ren’s den were closed when you arrived--the Knight pushed one open, standing solid as he waited for you to enter. Glancing between him and the floor, head bowed, you passed through, and the door shut behind you.

In the light of the day, Ren seemed significantly less suffocating--but no less heady, no less beguiling. He leaned back in his chair, dressed in an open white linen shirt that revealed a ridiculously tempting patch of clavicle. Documents sprawled out in front of him, a fountain pen in his hand. His eyes were dark, full lips pursed as he watched you enter, following your footsteps and swaying skirts as you sat across from him. The bandages were gone, now, and you saw his scar, a pretty pink thread that stretched from his brow to his neck. He swallowed, and the line of it shifted with the motion of his throat. Your fingers itched, wanting to trace it.

“It’s been over a week.”

“So it has.”

You felt more awkward than indignant--you and Ren had plenty of ideological spats, but you’d typically resolved those arguments using your tongues for a completely different purpose. Now, he was solidifying his hold on Gilead as the Lead Commander, and his extended absence from your life had frustrated the tear you’d made in your relationship. Speaking with him now felt like taking a nail file to your teeth.

Gesturing over your shoulder, you said, “Is the Knight Templar really necessary?”

Ren glanced at the closed door, then to you. “You fail to understand how precarious a transition of power can be.”

“But for me?”

He blinked, gaze drifting to the papers, a slow breath gathering and leaving his chest through his nose. “I will ensure that nothing will ever happen to or harm you while you are in this home.” His eyes drilled you to your seat. “Or in my presence.”

“Oh.” Heat tingled your cheeks. “I see.”

The awkwardness refused to cease. It was like cotton, clogging the channels of communication. In the silence, Ren continued to review and add notations to the forms on his desk--they looked to be bylaws or something similar--so you decided to occupy your hands, too. You sat forward, snagged a pen, a piece of scrap paper he’d discarded to the side, and began to doodle. Even before Gilead, you’d never been particularly skilled with art, but your hands had rusted from years of being denied the ability to hold a pen. It felt unwieldy, the lines you made wriggled like worms across the page.

“Anyway.” You started to sketch what you hoped appeared like vines--they were shaky, trembling strands with misshapen blobs for leaves. “Why did you ask me here?”

He considered you for a moment, watched you draw. “Last time we spoke,” he said, “you said there was nothing I could do to make your existence as a Handmaid bearable.” He paused as you tried to create another stem of vines. “I disagree.”

You sighed, not bothering to meet his gaze. “Unless you can destroy Gilead, it never will be.”

“You could be my advisor.” His voice was soft, but certain. “Help me create a new order.”

A pause--you were frustrated with the way these leaves were turning out, anyway--and you glanced up at him, brow cocked. “How could I possibly advise you?”

Ren took his own pen and placed it to your paper. “I want to know your thoughts.” The ink spilled in a gorgeous, swooping arc as he drew a single stem and leaf. “Lead with your wrist.” A tiny, teasing smirk quirked the corner of his lip. “You offer critique so freely otherwise. Wouldn’t it behoove me to make use of it?”

You made another attempt, starting a new stem, guiding your pen across the paper as Ren had suggested. “I don’t want to be around the Council as your Handmaid advisor.” Half of you was playing along. The other half was traitorously curious.

“Then you’d be the advisor in my home.”

“No thank you.” The pen slipped as you added sloppy detail. You sighed. “That isn’t an equal.”

“Then you’d come with me.” He flicked tiny veins into the leaf he drew. “Use simple lines.”

“Well, I don’t want to do that.” You tried to imitate his movement, but your motor skills were clunky, unfinessed. “Any other awful offer you’re willing to make me?”

“You could sleep in my bed.”

Everything paused--your hands, your breath, your thoughts. You couldn’t think to move.

“And still wear this uniform.”

“No.”

You exhaled, your gaze traveled from his strong hands, up the thick muscles of his arms, past the sheen of skin at his chest and neck, landing on his own eyes. Streams of sunlight cast amber irises in gilded vulnerability, the constant void in his pupils filled now with something present and deep, a trench of new, tender need. He was seeking you, inviting you to a forbidden place you���d never dreamed you’d go--the technicalities seemed distant and secondary to the urgent ache you’d felt for his company. He swallowed again. The scar bulged.

But Johana, clinging to meaning. But the Resistance, whom you’d avoided since the coup. But the other Handmaids, languishing in the beds of their Commanders against their will. The thought of waking up in Kylo Ren’s arms filled you with a warmth that nearly choked you, scorched your heart with its heat. That warmth was drowned, almost immediately, in a blizzard of dreadful reality. You could never be his equal. He didn’t even know your name.

Wetting your lips, you started a new bundle of vines in the corner of the page. “Do you ever feel empty?” you asked. “Lost?”

For a moment, Ren didn’t respond, only followed your fingers as they worked to pull the image in your mind to life. Then he moved, pushing his fountain pen on the paper, working in the corner opposite of yours, whirling tapered black lines into an abstract plant design. You glimpsed his work with a bizarre pang of jealousy, but you continued, scrawling your best imitation into your own space. It felt easy to talk, like this, focused on your busy hands.

“You know,” you said, “the only thing that’s made me feel alive in the past three years is being with you.” You looped one of the stems to the middle of the page, adding a couple of ugly, thick-veined leaves. “But maybe before that, too. I don’t know. When you do stuff like this, it makes me feel worse. “

He swiftly swirled a long, naked vine. It came close to touching one of yours. “Worse.”

“Have you ever known something was wrong…” You weren’t sure how to finish the sentence. More and more stems piled up in your corner, encroaching on his work. “Have you known something was wrong, but felt like… the only way you can even think about taking your next breath is if you do it?”

Ren stopped. The pen bled a fat daub into the paper. When you looked up, his mouth was parted. He was gazing into you.

“Yes.”

Your eyes were chained to his, your breath hollow in your chest, fingers withering with weakness, your pen tumbling from your grip.

“And have you--have you felt like doing the right thing… but knew that it would be impossible?”

He wasn’t breathing, either--he was only staring, memorizing something.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Always.”

You blinked and wet your lips, wondering how he could survive with the same constant, crushing pain on his chest and in his mind. Ren regarded you in stillness, an awakened honesty pulsing between you.

“How do you live?” you asked. “I… It feels like I’m…”

“Dying.”

“Yes.” You sat forward, nodding. “Yes. Dying. Like… my actions don’t even matter. Like I don’t even…”

He broke from your gaze, scanning the piece you’d both created, your vines reaching desperately for each other from the corners, separated by empty white space. “Have a choice.”

“Yes.” The heat of understanding burned through you. “How do you do it?”

Ren glanced up, the severity in his stare shrouding him in shadow. “I destroy it.”

Air stuck in your throat. “What?”

“Until it is nothing.” His face betrayed no emotion. “I destroy it.”

Perhaps that’s where you differed. You hadn’t tried to destroy that feeling. You’d tipped headfirst into it, choked on it, allowed it to consume you. Underneath its weight, you’d suffocated, starving for respite that didn’t exist.

“That’s how being with you makes me feel.”

His chest fell, air escaping his nose. “Yet you were there.”

“What?”

Ren took your hand in his, led you to pick up your pen, curling his long fingers around yours. His grip brought you refuge, its firm warmth guiding you through slow, sweeping motions until you’d grown a beautiful shoot of vines on the page. Throat tight, you watched his face under a new lens, his features now in soft focus, skin kissed by light, hair shifting over his cheeks.

“You could’ve run. Let me die.” His hold tightened, sparks shooting between your skin as he led you through darting veins in a leaf. “You didn’t.”

Words wouldn’t leave. You could only sit as he released you, allowed you to admire your collaboration. His side of the page had branched into a bloom of abstruse lines, black rivers running through the paper, not entirely vines, but precise and pretty all the same. Your side was less complex, crafted with a child’s hand, but a clear attempt at plantlife--thin, shaky stems snaking from the corner, ovals tacked on as leaves. Then there was the patch you’d drawn together. That part filled the center, entirely different from your creation and his own, a gorgeous weave of coiled fronds that crawled to three-dimensional life.

A shiver rippled up your spine. You met his eyes for the hundredth time, but drowned in them as if it was the first.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, not sure what you were referring to, anymore.

Ren’s lashes fluttered at his cheeks. His lips seemed pinker. “Practice, little bird.” After a moment, he drew a deep breath. “Johana’s hosting a party this evening. For my installation.” He pushed the pens to the side. “I left a dress in your room. I want you to wear it.”

Your heart seized, and you shook your head. “What?” you asked. “A dress?”

“Yes.” His face fell in a mask of disinterest. “You’d said last time we spoke you wanted more than what you have.”

“But…” Johana. The Council. The other Commanders. “Everyone else…”

“Gilead will bend to my design.” He sniffed, folding the drawing and placing it in his desk. “You’re part of that design.”

Heat flooded your face. “Oh.”

There was that feeling again--the same one that burgeoned between you, twisted you in its temptation, that robbed you of rationality. The one Ren sought to destroy, the one that you wanted to surrender to. You despised him. And you couldn’t wait to wear whatever stupid fucking dress he’d picked for you.

“Vic,” Ren called out. The door opened, the Knight stepped through. “Escort her to her room.”

Nodding, you stood, heading toward the door. Before you crossed the threshold, you glanced at him a final time. He was watching you.

“I’ll see you this evening.”

You swallowed. “Yes, Commander.”

It was strange, walking the halls with a silent usher--and having him wait until you closed yourself in your room was even stranger. You stood, waiting for the Knight’s footsteps to descend the staircase before you ran to your tiny dresser, tearing open the drawers to reveal the dress Ren had hidden there. Hands shaking, face hot, you grabbed it and shook it out, flipping it under your scrutiny.

It was still conservative--a high neck, long sleeves. But the fabric was a soft, pink chiffon, draped to the waist, a design that would skim your figure, but not reveal it. Round fabric buttons concealed the collar, cutting through a window of gauzy lace. You twirled it, admiring the flutter of the hem, imagining how it would feel on your skin. The longer you stared, the shorter your breath became, mind swarmed with thought. How would it feel, to walk through the home wearing this, to feel the brush of something over than starchy cotton at your ankles? How would your Commander react, seeing you in it? Fire stormed your skin, made your thighs squeeze together at the mere thought of him gazing at you, mesmerized, captivated--

Why did this excite you, when you were still his property? Perhaps it was that promise of respite, this dress your brief gasp of air before you would be plunged back into a sea of misery. Or perhaps it was the way he’d looked at you, the sincerity in his eyes, the throb in your pulse that lingered from his hand around yours.

His reaction was one thing, though. What about everyone else?

Knowing you’d be a Handmaid out of uniform sent your heart into your throat, had you considering tossing the damn dress out of your window and burying yourself in your sheets. It wouldn’t just be Ren seeing you--it’d be his Wife, his colleagues, his would-be supporters. The fact that you’d be wearing this flowy, hispy thing in front of all of them inspired a rush of unearned horror through your head, so thick you could swim in it. Yet your status in society could hardly sink any lower. Other than scandal, what response did you truly have to fear?

After all, there was another feeling, too, a burbling bubble at the base of your brain.

Vindication.

Yes, you were special, you were more than a Handmaid, and while you were still stuck on this awful hell-rock, you’d prove it to them. You’d prove it to them all.

Tossing the dress on the bed, you wrung out your arms, ears aflame. Outside, birds twittered in chorus, their song an echo of the melody in your chest:

Hopeful. Jubilant. Naive.

[hamliet]

Girls Don’t Want Boys, Girls Want Monsters: Netflix’s The Witcher Review

Finally, the show we deserve. 

Men get all their superhero power fantasies of kicking villain ass. Finally there’s  a story that has that and includes women’s emotional power fantasies about falling in love with monsters who change. It doesn’t treat either as ridiculous or limited by gender, either, since Geralt falls for a monster too and women get to kick ass as well. 

Essentially, it’s a story about defeating monsters: often through integration with the shadow, sometimes involving love and connection, sometimes violence, but the violence is never glorified. It’s good. 

NB: I’m in the middle of reading the books (in the middle of Blood of Elves so far). I haven’t played the game since video games aren’t really a medium I enjoy. So I’ll make some comparisons since the show covered the two books I’ve read thus far, but please don’t put spoilers for the books below!

Let’s talk my favorite aspect of every story: characters. 

Renfri. 

Her story was somewhat sanitized from the books (it’s a lot more brutal what happened to Renfri) but well adapted. Both versions--the book and show--depict sincere empathy for our deconstructed Snow White. I loved her dialogue with Geralt, in which Geralt praises her for escaping the huntsman her stepmother hired to kill her, and she laughs and says that she didn’t. He let her go, but not before raping and robbing her. The story never directly answers if the prophecy was true or not; Geralt doesn’t believe it, but a lot of things Geralt doubts turn out to be true. Renfri was supposedly attacking animals as a child; however, the person reporting that is highly unlikely to be unbiased (Stregobor) so is this even true? Did Renfri become a killer because she was horribly abused and left with no other option? (That’s the option that I think seems most likely.) 

We can’t know. The Witcher isn’t interested in giving its audience palatable answers. It’s interested in provoking questions. The show gives more answers than do the books, again likely due to the medium, but it still lets these questions linger. 

Renfri’s story is not the first one in the books, but it is the first one the show adapts, and that’s a good decision imo. Her story embodies The Witcher’s themes and questions:

By acting the monster, we make monsters out of others. 

To defeat monsters, you must be a monster. 

What, then, can heal, especially in a world so broken?

Ciri.

Our deconstructed Rapunzel (yes, there are a lot of fairy tale references). As far as her story goes in its adaptation, the addition of Dara was well done. Sadly, no, Dara is not in the books, but his addition gave Ciri an arc beyond merely running in this story. 

That said, Ciri in the books is much younger than she is in the show. Which is okay, because Ciri is somewhat emblematic of the future: there’s a lot unknown about her powers, she needs to be protected from everyone trying to grab her and use her powers for themselves. She is Geralt’s destiny, and she is the future of the world of The Witcher. 

NB: I can’t discuss Ciri without shouting out to the casting director for casting Pavetta: how did they find an actress who looks so much like Ciri’s actress? It’s almost eerie. 

The episode where Geralt finds out about the Law of Surprise and his reaction to Pavetta’s pregnancy is perhaps the only story that I felt was better in the show than in the books (again, this isn’t inherently a quality thing but a medium preference). It added some much-needed hilarity (Geralt’s perfectly-timed “destiny can go f--” *Pavetta vomits* and all he can say is, “fuck”) and gave Geralt an arc. 

Geralt.

Mm. 

I liked how they handled his character and his struggles with what it means to be a Witcher and/or human. His struggles to understand himself are relatable, and fairly well set-up for future exploration. He’s a foil of Ciri, Yennefer, Jaskier, and Cahir so far, and I’m particularly intrigued by the monster theme and the foiling that is already set up thus with all of the above except Jaskier (who is no monster). Geralt was skeptical about saving the striga for her father, but managed to succeed, and I wonder if he will somehow be able to save himself from his own inner fears/monster by being a father. (Basically, I am curious as to how being Ciri’s de factor dad is going to challenge him.)

Jaskier.

Or, Dandelion, as he’s known in the books. The bard adds some much needed levity to the tale, and as @aspoonofsugar​ says, he’s pretty much Donkey from Shrek. But he is used fairly well within the story: he shows Geralt even before Ciri and Yennefer enter his life that he has a purpose beyond being a killing machine. In that sense he’s the foil of Renfri (Renfri accomplishes the same, but through violence) in that Geralt saves him and he clearly thinks highly of the Witcher. Jaskier is in some ways humanity in all its paradoxes and foibles, annoying and stupid, kind and clever, funny and truthful, deceptive and respectful. 

Cahir.

I’m a sucker for ravens as part of an aesthetic, as well as pretty, tormented bad boys. Yes, I know he’s a character I’m sure will arouse much handwringing and puritanical policing a la his other archetype brothers (Loki, Kylo Ren, Snape, etc). I don’t care. I do think the show made him much darker when compared to the books, but I still expect his arc to go in the same direction as the books. He’s a complicated, conflicted, complex character, and I’m not sorry for feeling empathy for him. 

But I am curious about his foiling with Geralt. Both are characters seeking Ciri to fulfill... something, and monstrous in a way (Cahir more for what he does, but there’s a humanity to him as well).

Yennefer.

Finally, my favorite, my baby murder daughter. 

Yennefer’s character was fascinating. I appreciated that she’s allowed to want deeply, her own wants, instead of attaching her wants to be whatever the male character desires. She wants to have children. She wants love. She wants to be beautiful. Her desires are traditionally feminine, and the show doesn’t put this down. And she also kicks ass and takes names, she fails, she’s allowed to be angry, to be mean often, to want to learn and to want to be the best. 

The show doesn’t punish Yennefer for her ambition. Neither do the books. She experiences consequences, both positive and negative, for her every choice. The show reveals her backstory right away, whereas the books don’t, but again that’s a medium thing. I think both do excellently in setting up Yennefer for our empathy. It doesn’t apologize for her or her wants or actions; it lets her arc and the story itself do the talking. 

Yennefer’s not here to be your cautionary tale or your role model. She’s just there to be her and to live. 

That is, to an extent, perhaps the best kind of role model. 

That doesn’t mean the show did everything in Yennefer’s story justice. I wasn’t thrilled with the adaptation of her first meeting with Geralt--the orgy in the background isn’t in the books and is a very bizarre decision given context. While, I loved Tissaia’s character and her foiling with Yennefer: they are too alike to ever get along, I really didn’t understand the point of Tissaia turning the other girls into slugs in episode 2. It was unsettling and not in the books. It was a heavy-handed metaphor not explained until episode 7 (about treating people as expendable slugs) that didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know about how the world and Dark!Hogwarts worked. If anything it made the school seem foolishly cackling-mustache evil instead of the true current of darkness within it: manipulation and utilitarianism. As part of effort to control things, that control itself can lead to chaos. 

I think the rest of the series set this precise dilemma of a precarious balance between self-control and manipulation/utilitarianism quite well, though (it goes hand-in-hand with the theme of a “lesser evil” to quote Renfri’s story). I’m excited to see this explored more. 

Other comments:

When comparing the show to the books as I’ve read so far, I think the show made some smart changes for adapting to a visual medium. For example, Foltest and Adda’s story was adapted as a mystery: what is the monster? Who is the father? Who is the curser? Can the monster be saved? Whereas the book doesn’t do that: you know immediately that the monster is a striga, Foltest is the father, and he wants the striga saved. The answer to who cursed Adda is never clear in the written story either, whereas the show declares it was Ostrit (the book leaves it very much up in the air as to whether it was Ostrit or Adda’s mother). However, the way this particular episode weaves Adda’s story of rebirth with Yennefer’s rebirth was beautifully done. (Foltest is a good dad. We need more good dads in stories; of course, if we had more good dads, we’d have far less stories.) (I’m jesting.) 

The dialogue is at times... well it’s not like it’s The Rise of Skywalker levels of “who wrote this???” but it’s not always stellar. Actually, I’d say the quality tends to swing wildly about between clever (episode 4) and just confusing (episode 5). But in general, I think the dialogue issue is representative of the show’s largest issue: it struggles to know when to trust its audience. When should it give details? When should it trust them? When is it spoonfeeding, and when is it just confusing? It tries to walk a fine line and stumbles a bit. It succeeds, however, with the characters as I mentioned earlier with Yennefer, Geralt, and Ciri. 

My advice for the show going forward (not that they should definitely listen to me) is to forget Game of Thrones. It’s pretty obvious that this show is a passion project made by people who love The Witcher. I really hope they lean into that aspect instead of into the GoT-replacement aspect (because there are definitely aspects of that, particularly in the mood/aesthetic, tone, and gratuitous nudity--which is not exploitative or disturbing, but it also wasn’t necessary, isn’t in the books, and so felt like pandering). 

However, the sheer love for the material still really shines  through. They made me care for the characters, they interested me in the world, and they have me hooked for season 2. The showrunners’ excitement for the story and adoration of its characters is contagious, and I hope the show lets this excitement spread. 

[inikavulpixelreviews]

Let’s Talk About Pokemon - The Rolycoly Family

837: Rolycoly

OHHHH!!!! OH OH!!!!! THE COAL MONSTER!!! THAT I PUT ON MY WISHLIST! OH How I instantly fell in love with this little guy when it was first revealed. This design is so neato in its lovable simplicity. At first glance it's little more than a chunky hunk of coal with a single eye. Oh, but they eye GLOWS as if it has coal burning on the inside! That on top of its general body shape makes it look like a living miner's helmet! Hah, how clever and original for a little coal critter!

It even has a unique ability that has it interacting with Fire and Water, boosting the Pokemon's speed if its hit with moves of those type! Cool! And how I LOVE that grumpy little visage it has. It's just a single eye but it still lends so much fun personality to the thing. But Rolycoly comes with a little something extra:

It's on a WHEEL! It has an entire wheel-shaped shard of coal on its underside that allows it to roll around like a unicycle! That is PRECIOUS! And boy howdy has the excitement for what this thing could possibly turn into get me pumped. So many neat Fakemon ideas floating around. That and I absolutely KNEW I was gonna be using a Rolycoly once I started playing the game myself. I just HAVE to see what this coal dude turns into!

Personal Score: 10/10

838: Carkol

Oh, well... hrmmmm. We're not off to a fantastic start, I guess. My instant turn-off on the other side of that evolution screen was that Rolycoly instantly lost its cool cycloptic eye in favor of a much more regular looking face. Why does it just look like Golem's face??? Like I can't stress this enough. If a Pokemon has a unique feature, especially one that is a rarity like a single eye, or a droopy face, or having shaggy hair cover the majority of its face, or even a complete LACK of face, it absolutely should NOT lose these features unless it has a compelling enough reason to, like fulfilling a design theme. There are so little Pokemon that are cycloptic that it's SO ANNOYING that it instantly fails at step 1.

I also don't really like that's already SORTA lost the wheels. They're there, and they function as wheels, but they're behaving a lot more like legs most of the time. It doesn't even keep its glowing eyes. They light up during certain animations but that's it. Nor do I like that a pile of coal is precariously going over its back. It makes it stop looking like a coal monster and just that it's a monster that carries coal. The shape of its back should evoke the look of a mine cart filled with coal and not BE a mine cart full of coal, if you get what I'm saying?

Even if it was just the face that was redone, I would've taken it. But if I could do a little tidying up and redoing of Carkol, it wouldn't take a TON to do it. The basic shape is fine to me, just good lord please give it its face and wheels back.

Personal Score: 5.5/10

...But not all hope is lost just yet! There's loads of Pokemon with a good beginning, and low middle, and a good end. Awkward teenage stage am I right? Even if its face isn't just a single eye anymore, at least it's keeping the wheeled theme! In fact, you could really build off of that! Like making it a train! A TRAIN POKEMON, LIKE ON MY WISHLIST AGAIN! That'd be knocking out two birds with one piece of coal! Surely they couldn't possibly think of ditching that aspect of this line, especially since it's been present in two stages so far! Surely the least possible thing that could happen would be if this almost literal mine cart Pokemon had suddenly lost all its wheels and miraculously turned into a generic bipedal dinosaur that walks like literally any other Pokemon out of nowhere. That’d be like, the worst case scenario. But that wouldn’t happen, right?

...

...Right?

839: Coalossal

Not to come off as blunt right off the gate here but this did it. I didn't think it was gonna be possible. Gallade is no longer my least favorite Pokemon of all time. Because in the end, as much as you could say Gallade sullies the Gardevoir line's unique take on a knight just by association, you can at least IGNORE Gallade. Just evolve your male Kirlia into a Gardevoir anyway because Gardevoir is just better than Gallade in every way anywho. Gallade? Literally WHO??? But Coalossal is impossible to ignore if you were a fan of what Rolycoly was putting down. And even Gallade had a FEW merits to it. Coalossal has almost systematically taken every little bit of what has cool and unique about Rolycoly and thrown it out the window in favor of being an all-around copy-paste job.

Okay, for a moment, let's pretend Rolycoly and Carkol never existed. Coalossal was just a single-stage Pokemon on its own in a cave somewhere or whatever. What about Coalossal is individually unique to it and it alone? Sincerely close to absolutely nothing. No single individual aspect of this design is unique in any way. Want to know the major reason why? Because Coalossal already existed. We've already had Coalossal for about ten years now. But back then, we called it Rhyperior.

I'm personally not a gigantic fan of Rhyperior either, but look at this. This is absolutely comedic. They're the fucking same. They are the SAME creature. Coalossal is nothing but an off-color Rhyperior. Like come ON. At least Rhyperior has the benefit of having is rough body serve a visual motif where it's wearing construction gear, with sound-canceling headphones, complete with wrecking ball tail. A solid rock monster design, even if I personally prefer Rhydon. I can confidently look at Rhyperior and see that it’s gone through revisions, redraws, and polishes to make it unique even in its own evolutionary line.

Can I say the same for Coalossal? I honestly can't say I do. With Rhyperior fresh in mind, what's Coalossal's visual motif? It's made of coal, I guess? Its face SORT OF looks like a cowcatcher on a train. But here's a question, why doesn't it look MORE like a train if train was clearly a motif they wanted to go with? If it's a train monster, why is it bipedal in the first place?

The only bit of its design that's even a little eye-catching is the pile of coal clumsily piled onto its shoulders, but I already said why I don't like that. It makes it look like Coalossal itself isn't a coal monster, it just carries coal around. Besides, most well-done designs aught to still have at least some value to them even if you took away one aspect of said design. Rhyperior with a plain tail with no wrecking ball is still a funny construction site rhino man. Even Carkol with no coal on its back would've still been a weirdo mine cart monster. Coalossal without the pile of coal is just naked Rhyperior.

Things only get worse when you add Carkol and especially Rolycoly back into the equation. Rolycoly's unique features were that it was a coal monster with one eye, riding on a wheel and it's shaped like an object. Carkol at least continues most of this, mostly ridding of the single eye thing. Coalossal gets rid of all that's left. No more wheels, no more object shapes, no more fun, it's just a coal thing now. Literally the first thing that comes to your mind when you think “I want to make a coal monster.” A rough draft in monster design form, printed and published for the full release.

I have to wonder, how many questions of whether this looked good or not the decisions to make in a train monster but also a bipedal dinosaur-thing was a well enough thought-through idea? Is being a dinosaur with a cowcatcher on its head visually interesting? More visually interesting than its previous stages, where it had far more visual motifs going on? Was it a conscious decision to say yes or was there a time crunch where they had to settle on a “close enough” design to pad out the Pokedex?

And you know what's more than likely the thing that murdered this line? Time.

I feel bad for possibly implying it was going to be nothing but smooth sailing this Gen when I made my little Sword and Shield pre-review. Because the more I've dug into Gen 8 the more I've realized how many designs in here are heavily flawed. And I can only blame the very evident drop in quality on the clear lack of time Gamefreak has these days. Generations are getting shorter and shorter and it's starting to show. Had SwSh not happened for another couple years, I guarantee I wouldn't be making this rant right now. This kind of blunder is simply so uncharacteristic of Gamefreak's art department. Like say what you will about the games themselves but Pokemon's been running strong from Gens 5 to 7. It's hard to believe the same company that made creatures like Mimikyu, Buzzwole, Sigilyph, or Pumpkaboo churned out Coalossal here.

Here, I'll embarrass myself and share a bit of concept art of a personal project of mine. These designs aren't too terribly spectacular, are they? That's because they're just the rough drafts. The very first instance of me drawing a creature in order to have their design idea on paper, because I can flesh them out later. They’re very wonky looking, weirdly generic at best because later on, “Ash Wolf” there would later become...

“Billowolf”. And heck, it’s plenty possible that it’ll go through one more redesign or so before I’m fully satisfied with it. Coalossal feels like the former. A sketchbook doodle of a “coal dinosaur” base idea that was meant to be more fleshed out later but wasn’t given the opportunity.

And I'm noticing more and more that this is gonna be a repeat complaint going into Gen 8. Lots of ideas with decent or even excellent potential not being lived up to because the designs haven't been through enough revisions. We're well aware of an internal approval process that happens within Gamefreak for these Pokemon to get accepted, and I can only wonder if they just settled with “good enough” designs simply because they were running out of time. Like for PETE'S sake this annual release schedule needs to stop. I hope this new trend of DLC will alleviate the Pokemon Rush. Hell, I'd encourage it so long as they're fairly priced and maybe even bring in a handful of new Pokemon designs each. It's not quite a year off the constant Poketrain but DLC is a lot easier to make than an entirely new game or even a “deluxe edition”. I don't care if we go back to a release schedule of one generation per major Nintendo system. Just let these guys have the time and leeway to do their dang jobs without the stress of ridiculously tight deadlines. There's still so much talent within Gamefreak and it's maybe easy to forget that they're the ones that made the more beloved entries in the series back before they forced a game out almost every year.

And to be clear I DO NOT mean to say all this to shame whoever designed Coalossal, even if they themselves are proud of it. Nor am I shaming anyone that does like Coalossal (just given I’ve gotten comments before acting like I’m being the opinion police with this review series.) Alarmingly enough, my taste isn’t law! And that’s fine. I’m just wondering if the higher-ups on the art team have given Coalossal a pass under less time-constrained circumstances? Or would they have sent it back in to go a few more rounds in a feedback loop? The basic point of this rant is just

Obviously, I'd want this line to follow through on the train motif and have Coalossal actually be a goddang train. And of course keep the single eye.

I do hear one of the defenses of Coalossal being dinosaur-shaped being that “it's a fossil fuel coming back to life.” If that was the intention, that should've been the theme from the very start instead of the rolling wheel idea. (Even under this light, I still wouldn't call Coalossal a very good design. It's far too generic to be doing even that cool idea justice. If that WAS the idea, I’d say it’d be way cooler to do a monster that’s moreso crudely trying to imitate the look of a dinosaur.)

...Awkward thing is, Coalossal wound up sticking in my team for the whole game. Mostly because I wasn't sure if any more new Fire types would be coming afterward (there weren't) so. My Sword team has my least favorite Pokemon on it. I still love ya though, Obsidius. It's not your fault your design wasn't finished. ):

Personal Score: 1/10

I'm sorry if it feels like I'm just dunking on Pokemon after Pokemon here. I PROMISE there's some Pokemon I'm excited to talk about coming up later. In fact, oooh, Applin's next! Applin will be a good palette cleanser, yes.

G-Max Coalossal:

Oh yeah, Coalossal has a G-Max form too. It's better, I'll give it that, and it SORTA brought the wheel thing back but only in having tire-shaped thighs. Pbbbth. The scale is imposing and at least its eyes look a little bit cooler again. I can't bring myself to like it much better just by association with Coalossal. It's fine, I guess. I'm not even gonna rate it. I just don’t like it. It’s fine. Eh.

[Archive]

[muertawrites]

story time.

yo okay so while i’m talking about writing that sokka x reader step sibling fic it has brought up a memory that is literally just too wild not to share with y’all so hold on to your tits it’s about to get weird.

i grew up in a pretty sheltered town. it wasn’t a super small town (the population was over 100,000 when i lived there), but it very much functioned like one - i.e. everybody knew each other and was into each other’s business. you couldn’t walk two steps without running into someone you knew or go a single day without finding out someone’s deepest darkest secrets. it could get pretty high stakes, but it was the kind of trashy reality tv drama we live for as human beings. 

when i was in high school, i was a part of the school choir. i wasn’t friends with everyone (i did my best to keep my distance so i could stay out of the local gossip, which worked in my favor because probably only two people from high school know what’s become of me or even care and honestly good, i like to keep an air of mystery about myself as far as people from my past are concerned), but some of my friends were friends with a kid named jesse, who was also in choir. he was your quintessential early 2010′s hipster: scruffy hair, tiny pubescent mustache, buddy holly glasses, listened to shit like the smiths, and wore nothing but skinny jeans, cardigans, and moccasins, even when it was summer and 115 degrees (f) outside. he was also buck toothed and looked like a rat. 

we never really spoke to each other, but i always got the sense that we wouldn’t get along if we did, so for four years jesse and i basically had a mutual, unspoken “mind your own business” agreement which worked out pretty well (one of my friends from freshman year who was a notorious homewrecker kept trying to fuck him despite him having a girlfriend, but by that time she and i had cut contact so that was as close as we ever got to having any kind of in depth interaction with each other. you know, small town things.)

we graduate high school and part ways, i moving across the country to the cancerous tumor that is the state of delaware, and jesse moving absolutely nowhere and enrolling in our town’s shitty community college. one of my close friends who also attended the college had a creative writing class with him, in which a lot of the focus centered on short stories. i forget what the prompt was for the assignment i’m about to recall to you, my beloved readers, but part of the project was a peer review; and who does my friend get paired with for hers? that’s right, darlings - our favorite urban outfitters mannequin, jesse. 

now, before i go any further, i want to be very open and outright about two important facts of this recollection: i have not changed jesse’s name for the sake of his identity, and i don’t feel any remorse in not doing so. i might still be playing by small town rules, but anybody who does the sort of thing i’m about to relay to you and doesn’t expect any future exposure and subsequent embarrassment from said thing deserves all the shame they have coming to them (and yes, i do realize that i run and am posting this to a self-insert fan fiction blog, but i will state for the record now that i am open to any roastings that will come years from now because of it. i’m not the type of bitch who can’t own her weird.) 

anyway. my friend calls me one night while she’s reviewing jesse’s short story and she has the juiciest news for me - the project that he’s turning in is erotica. and not the type of erotica that is beautifully written, leaves readers feeling all kinds of hot and bothered, and is kept in sock drawers for generations because, let’s face it, humans have been horny as fuck since we were producing porn via cave paintings. oh no. this is some bad sex awards, rough and ready dramatic reading (shoutout to my ancient tumblr folk, lest we forget those galloping abs), literally too cringe-inducing to read erotica. 

jesse’s short story was about himself. it was about himself, home alone with this step sister (who doesn’t exist in the real world, but looks uncomfortably similar to a bitchy girl who ruined my friendship with my equally bitchy ex best friend, who were both part of his circle of friends), when the step sister in question approaches him out of the blue and inquires him for sex in their laundry room atop the running dryer. 

let me repeat myself. 

jesse from high school wrote a short story about himself fucking his imaginary step sister on top of a dryer and handed it in as an actual assignment for an accredited college course. 

i don’t think even pornhub could make this shit up. 

my friend was too good of one to read me any of it aloud, but based on her description of events, it read a lot like watching one of those internet pornos where the step sister gets stuck in some precarious position and the step brother rapes her with very “tee hee, oops!” overtones (we are giving jesse redemption points for, despite making his step sister character a one dimensional fuck toy, at least having fantasies that are based on consent). 

i can’t be hypocritical and say that i don’t have fantasies - everyone does! hell, the whole reason i’m taking the time to sit here and write this down instead of writing the stuff you guys actually want to see is because i have an idea for a self-insert fanfiction in which the reader is a certain character’s step sibling and they have feelings for each other, and the situation reminded me of this dark comedy of a repressed memory. 

but did i ever shamelessly try to submit any of my fanfiction for credit towards my bachelor’s degree? no. nobody should do that. but jesse from high school did.

and, horrifyingly enough, that’s not even the worst part of this story. no - the worst part is that when they turned in their final drafts, their professor liked jesse’s submission so much that he praised it and read sections of it aloud to the entire fucking class. going to a four-year state university was awful, but i can at least find peace in the fact that none of my professors would have ever even considered accepting smut for an assignment, let alone openly spreading it around for other students to see.

if you take anything from this strange experience from the archives of my equally as strange life, let it be one of these - there are people out there who have far less talent than you have and are still praised for their skill, so there’s no reason you should be unsure of yours, or (for the kiddos who are either in college or will be there in the near future) don’t use your dirty fantasies as a source of content for any of your scholarly work. 

[curious-minx]

Brian Wilson’s Ghost Theater: The Radiant Radish Story

Somewhere hidden on the isle of kokomo the ghostly casper version of beloved musical genius and heart and soul of The Beach Boys Brian Wilson is starring at a bowl of ice cream melting on top of his piano. The flavor, coconut rum sultana, the ghost of Brian Wilson perks up and smiles a little and looks away, he’s a shy spirit. 

Hey dudes you might be wondering why I’m a ghost when I’m not even dead yet? Well that’s the whole point of Brian Wilson’s Ghost Theater. We’re going to get to the bottom of these mysteries. I have been mainly using this digital forum as a way to write cool reviews about cartoons and good vibrations, but then, well you know, The Beach Boys have fallen into worse company than Ol Charlie. Don’t worry just because I’m a ghost doesn’t mean I pal around with Charlie Manson and the rest of the ghoul gang. You’ve got to cut those toxic people out of your lives. Come, let’s go to my garage. It’s easier to tell a story in there. 

The Ghost of Brian Wilson floats away from his piano stool wrapped in kelp. I am trying to get visual proof of the existence of the Ghost of Brian Wilson but my iPhone is sparking. There are rumors on the island that Kate Bush has relocated here and has built her house on an even more precarious cliff. I take one last glance at the splashing glades of dark and foreboding ocean slapping against the cliffside. I wonder how the Ghost of Brian Wilson’s piano stays in such pristine condition despite the wet conditions? 

The path to Brian Wilson’s Ghost’s Garage is covered in thick overgrown vines from papaya trees, I have to always make sure I am looking down or else I could get snapped up by the foliage. A furry hermit crab is ushering into a sandy cove with the air of the conspiratorial. There are two glowing theremins outside of Brian Wilson’s Ghost garage attracting moths larger than a grown adult man’s head flapping against the glow. I walk inside the garage and the door does not slam shut and lock me inside like I had feared but the sun seems stuck in a sunset. Brian Wilson’s Ghost pats upon a plush plum colored loveseat indicating a place for me to sit. There is an ash tray full of wrapped unsmoked purple joints and more ice cream. 

////

This Story Begins In the Summer of 1970

Leading up to the release of our album Surf’s Up, the one album I was taking a back seat on. I had left my physical body for the first time in 69 sometime after I started using coke. Van Dyke Parks and I were messing around in the medicine cabinet and doing the whole, “This isn’t my coke, this is your coke” routine and I felt my heart bum bum bumming at a vicious “Be My Baby”frequency. I needed a boost to keep up with the fruits and vege-tables at Radiant Radish. I was trying to get this specific chime sound right for my cash register, and I really meant my cash register. It was important for the rest of the store’s six cash registers to still sound like cash a regular cash register. 

(At this point in the story Brian Wilson’s Ghost vanishes and reappears with large cylindrical recordings of cash register noises and we listen to them for a few excruciating minutes)

And my cash register would ring this real pretty tone for whenever a real sexy lady bought some beet root powder and unruly arugula. I was imagining “Deidre,” Bruce’s ex-lady’s sister. As soon as the cash register burst open my ghost leapt out of my skin. I really like the actual Brian Wilson, but he never wants me around. He calls me a drag! I tried helping out with Radiant Radish, but I wouldn’t stop tinkering with the cash register. I more or less inhabited his bath robe and mostly hung around. Sometimes I help the real Brian catch a certain chord shape floating by and haunt Murry, my dad. 

////

“So, you’re a coke ghost?” Are the words I eventually gather and casually toss out for Brian Wilson’s Ghost.  I am hoping that somehow this all connects with the present and explain how Mike Love ruined the band. 

“I’m a health food store ghost!”

“Okay, but I’m not going to buy a subscription to this vitamin supplement program!”

“Then why did you bother coming all the way out to Kokomo? I am not supposed to let anybody onto this island! I should have left you drowned!”

“Hey that’s not fair!” I am really hurt right now but I don’t want to lose Brian Wilson’s Ghost so I check my back account, and of course it’s too low, but I sign up for the $15.99 antimicrobial surprise package and Brian Wilson’s Ghost finally stops doing his heart wrenching pout that makes me want to jump out into the ocean.

“Why did you wrench me out my revery..I feel like I was almost really back there. Dang dude.”

“Weren’t 69 and the start of the 70s pretty brutal for you Brian?” I look for that noble sorrow hidden in the depths of the phantom’s eyes and come up empty. He is completely vacant. “Fuck Mike Love!” I take my own self off guard by how passionate I get when I say this. Brian Wilson’s Ghost only responds with a fuzzy frown. “What? Don’t you get agree? You, or at least the real you, called him a piece of shit that stole The Beach Boys name. The reason I came out here was because I want to steal the Beach Boys name back for you.”

“So then it really will be safe to listen to The Beach Boys again, huh?” Brian Wilson’s Ghost continues doing that perpetual tear suspended in the corner of his eye wounded puppy dog eyes and I really wish I could give this ghost a swirly. 

“What? Um, Sure, but I doubt we’d be converting any new fans like Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu who took to Twitter to let everyone know that he always hated The Beach Boys.”

“That was our slogan back in 70 and 71, “It’s Safe to Listen to The Beach Boys again.”

“Ugh that’s terrible and this was an attempt to make yourselves seem cool again?”

“Our new manager Jack “The Super hurtful Man” came up with that one. What do you have against Mike Love? He’s not a bad man! Come on kick back and let me put on  “All I Wanna Do” could a true asshole sing a song that nice?”

“Yes!  I mean yes I have heard the song, it practically invented chillwave, and yes an asshole can sing a nice tune every once and awhile.  Don’t think I didn’t notice all of the Wanted Dead or Alive Mike Love posters on Kokomo, even the people of his own island can’t stand him. Brian Wilson you are The Beach Boys! The Beach Boys were about spreading love to everyone and encouraging friendly ecology! “Take A Load Off Your Feet” prevented my foot being amputated from lounger’s foot. We’ve got some before the election! Brian Wilson’s Ghost can make his debut and show the world that The Beach Boys do not support Trump!” I feel like I have gone rabid by the end of this tirade and the fuzzy hermit crab is using his pinchers to snap at my toes to shoo me away. 

Brian Wilson’s Ghost licks his dry mouth and gives me his award winning smile. He vanishes inside of his deuce coup and turns on the engine. He opens the door and once again pats on the seat letting me know that the seat is warm and accepting of my sorry ass. I reach into my breast pocket and wave two cassettes, one of Sunflower and the other of Surf’s Up trying to entice Brian to put them in, but he waves them away. Instead, Brian Wilson’s ghost takes out a red blank disc that is labeled with a Radiant Radish sticker. 

Brian was right, these cash registers really are the best part of the store. 

[violent-ham]

The Artemis Fowl Movie

I wrote musings as I watched the movie. Here they are without much context but I’m hating the movie so much that I don’t care to go through and write a comprehensive review. Maybe later.

Also note that it’s been a WHILE since I’ve read the books. So. I’m aware that some of my nitpicking may be off.

Needless to say, spoilers for the movie.

Less than five minutes in. Artemis Fowl II… is surfing.

….maybe that wasn’t Artemis?

 They killed Angeline???

 Psychologist scene was almost spot on. Almost. ….maybe this won’t be as bad as the trailers made it look.

 They had me believing for a moment with his interactions with the psychologist. BUT THE VERY NEXT SCENE. Artemis riding a hover board IN JEANS. Artemis wouldn’t be caught dead in jeans.  The one time he wore them in the books he complained extensively about them.

 Fowl Sr.

 Movie Artemis to have a great relationship with his father who is TEACHING HIM ABOUT FAIRIES.

 Cliched rich absentee father.

 Oh sweet jesus Butler

 SAID BUTLER’S FIRST NAME IN HIS INTRODUCTION.

 So… they’re just gonna completely reinvent Butler. Alright.

 Tantrum over his father’s criminal empire. Book Artemis KNOWS THIS and is actively trying to rebuild his family’s fortune after the disappearance of his father YEARS AGO.

 Is that Koboi.

 Yer a wizard, Arty

 Let Artemis be smart and find out about fairies on his own instead of force-feeding us and him expositional dialogue. Let him be the clever genius he’s supposed to be.

 Really hamfisting the whole “THIS FAMILY IS SO IRISH” thing, aren’t they?

 I can only hear Olaf when Mulch speaks.

 I don’t like that they switched it to Mulch stealing Holly’s wallet from Mulch stealing the badge (?) off another officer and Holly retrieving it. Might just be nitpicky at this point though.

 Briar Cudgeon already in prison??

 Holly… other female LEP… Root… Holly’s whole story arch. Yeah.

 Holly gets a “Missing Father” plot too

 STOP SAYING DOMOVOI.

 NIECE. I can overlook the age down (unless they’re planning to try and romance them in the future. If there is a future). But… NIECE?? Juliet is his SISTER. Not his niece. Why was this a necessary change??

 Short hair… no jade ring…

 Already having the groundwork for The Book and finding fairies laid out for him…

 Explaining shuttles to THE experienced flyboy. Gotta get that exposition in somehow, I guess.

 Holly’s father is a thief too, just like Arty’s! Wonder where they’re gonna go with that… =.=

 Yeah forget keeping the civilization a secret and having underground docking stations for the shuttles, lets just shoot Holly out of a fucking volcano in full view of a major city and fly away unshielded.

 Arty’s gonna sit comfy while Butler, sorry DOMOVOI stakes out the tree to kidnap a fairy instead of wanting to see and make sure in person.

 “Pick on someone your own size!”

 Time freeze capsule.

 Time freeze for the rogue troll in Italy.

 Holly going rogue instead of just to refill her magic…

 Holly and Arty’s dads working together.

 Opal Fucking Koboi.

 Oh good, Arty decided to join DOMOVOI after all.

 Gah, those contacts

  “Not happy!” …my sentiments exactly, Holly.

 In a box, not a cell. Guess they’re not gonna go the route of “Holly breaks the floor of her cell to find dirt to restore her magic and WRECK Artemis’s day.”

 Arty sr. teaching Arty jr. about the dangers of fairies.

 The jeans are back!

 Very, very brief glimpse of Artemis in Arty. This movie needs more of that.

 “There are humans that are afraid of gluten, how do you think they’d handle goblins?” Ok that got me…

 Flannel and jeans. WHERE IS HIS SUIT.

 “I’m going to need the suit.” Oh. There it is.

 Arty firing a fairy gun and actively partaking in the fight.

 …………disabling the time freeze WITH AN ARROW. He’s not even allowed to be clever in escaping the time freeze/blue rinse combo at the end??? Will there even be a blue rinse?

 Also, why did the time freeze act as described in the book for Fowl Manor, but LITERALLY freeze time for the incident with the troll? What are the movie rules?

 Well at least they included the “While I’m alive” stipulation but… they’ve gone so off the rails so far I’m not sure it makes a difference anymore. There’s been no build up, no struggle between the fairies and Arty until he captured Holly five minutes ago. The reveal isn’t going to feel earned if they even go that route.

 Well they kept Mulch jamming his thumbs up a goblin’s nose to fry him in jail. So there’s that.

 Nope. No. Arty should be mesmered and Holly out of there.

 Portals between worlds. What movie are we in again?

 David Bowie is a Fairy.

 The scene between Root and Mulch got a laugh out of me. Small laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Which is more than this movie deserves.

 Mulch unhinging his jaw was actually horrifying.

 But, they had to go for the comedic “pop out of a painting” instead of coming up through the floor. How did he even get into the wall if he was tunnelling through the ground? Comedy of sensibility, I guess.

 So much for “Dwarves can’t burp”

 Arty should be mesmered. AGAIN.

 Arty unlocking Holly instead of Holly escaping. They’re really pushing this forced bond between them.

 What was that reaction to getting punched! And not even a jab about lollipops from Holly.

 That’s not how allergies work

 “D’arvit.” My sentiments exactly, Commander.

 Mulch having pickpocketed Holly’s gun off of DOMOVOI gave me a chuckle. And the fact that not one of them said “How did you pickpocket that off of DOMMOVOI?” is surprising, but welcome. Seems like they forgot about “show don’t tell” up until this point. And something tells me that after this gag, it will be forgotten again.

 Was there a reason for jamming magic in the house when Holly is the ONLY magic user in there? Unless Cudgeon is actively trying to kill Holly. Which. ….yeah alright maybe. Guess that means Holly isn’t going to almost get pummeled to death by the troll if she can’t heal.

 Holly is consistently a damsel in distress instead of a badass LEP captain.

 How did Holly get the momentum to swing that chandelier thing across the room and through the glass?

 A lot of running, jumping, and dangling precariously off of things. Too many cut jumps, not enough troll fighting. What about medieval suit of armor Butler squaring off with the troll? Did they cut that too??

 Arty losing the gun due to recoil. That should have happened the very first time he fired it if it has recoil. Do neutrinos have recoil?

 Ah, so they blocked the magic as a plot device to make us believe DOMOVOI isn’t going to make it.

 “Buddy.” That shouldn’t be in Arty’s vocabulary. Especially when referring to DOMOVOI. Can’t even work in an “Old Friend.” Nope. Gotta go with “Buddy.”

 Magic unblocked, DOMOVOI saved. Wow, did NOT see that coming……. =.=

 Healing fatal wounds is supposed to be tricky even for trained medics to deal with, much less for a LEP officer to do in two seconds.

 Oh, they’re suggesting that he actually DIED. There was a whole scene about this in the third (?) book and being brought back from the dead had some serious repercussions for Butler. But nah, two seconds and he’s fine. Admittedly he was frozen for some time in the book. But still!

 Sooo… the time freeze exploding did nothing and everyone in the house is fine?

 Why does Holly trust Arty? They’ve really done nothing to earn each other’s trust

 Oh good, they’re friends.

 Forever friends.

 Ok, using the first lines of The Book as a spell… is the ocularis or whatever supposed to be the movie version of The Book?

 Ocularis ex machina, Dad is saved!

 “I’m Artemis fowl. I’m a criminal mastermind.” No, you’re Arty and lucky as fuck that the plot of this movie loves you so much.

 A FEW of the plot points are there. SOME of the scenes are there. It’s like they started to make an actual Artemis Fowl movie, scrapped it, wrote in some unrelated story and mashed the two together. This wasn’t an Artemis Fowl movie. This wasn’t even a GOOD movie if you take away the relation to Artemis Fowl. The acting is phoned in and just plain bad at times, like they just wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. The effects are pretty good in places but my god that does not make up for shredded scrap of a story it has. Artemis wasn’t allowed to be clever or in any way villainous, Holly wasn’t allowed to be a badass LEP recon Captain, Mulch… would have been fine if it were an actual Artemis Fowl movie, even if I could only hear Olaf when he spoke. Arty didn’t earn his “Criminal Mastermind” badge in this, not by a long shot. Waited so long for this movie and every apprehension I had after viewing the trailer was warranted. Just awful.

 They didn’t even include the sprite from the trailers in the movie.

[copias-thrall]

Hulloooooo! Do you have any headcanons about how Copia and Papa 3 would be in bed with each other?

These idiots.

Thirst below

*m/m, really rough sex*

What you have to understand is these two are basically a walking Enemies to Lovers tag.

Copia shows up on the scene and Papa III is hella suspicious. Why is this man here at this Church. There are so many senior clergy members here, why add another? And to add insult to injury the guy isn’t even flaunting his favor. He’s just. Always in his office working or attending to the education of the Siblings. They guy’s just such a square. He’d been expecting to hear poor performance reviews of The Cardinal’s Sibling initiations, but on the contrary—he seems to have … groupies. It’s beyond maddening. He’s determined to show this man how unwelcome he is here at any opportunity. 

Copia himself is wondering how he ended up here. He’s not really the political type, and that’s maybe what landed him in this predicament—he’s pretty much a neutral party who is devoted to the Church and does excellent paperwork. He wasn’t exactly expecting a warm welcome from Papa III, but the level of disdain and vitriol the man directs at him is beyond unwarranted. That man is a spoiled brat, surrounded by yes men, and he wouldn’t know what a Form 38a § G was if it slapped him in the face. Which is what Copia would love to do every time he goes to III’s office to find him there with a Sibling under his desk.

And then the pranks start.

Stupid, little things. Surprising in how juvenile they are. A whoopee cushion placed under his seat pillow in Chapel. A tack on his office chair. Sugar in his salt shaker and salt in his sugar bowl (and ok: after finding the sugar in his salt shaker he really should have checked his sugar bowl, so that one’s on him).

Honestly, Copia had assumed it was the Ghouls or bored first-years. But then one day he has to double back to his office to retrieve a file he overlooked, and he catches III in the act of—well he’s not sure, but there were pulleys involved. Copia saw that his door was ajar—unusual, but not immediately suspicious. The sounds, though, were. Copia had slowly swung open the door—his palm flush on the wood—to reveal III, slightly bent over, fiddling with ropes, the clunk of the metal pulley loud in the relative silence. Perhaps sensing a shift in the air around him, or a change in light, III had turned to look at the doorway and froze. Copia looked at him. Papa III had looked back. They has stood like that—a cursed tableau—until III at least had the indecency to look ashamed. He’d quickly gathered up his … contraption … and scuttled down the hallway, Copia just standing there, motionless and mute throughout the whole.

And maybe that could have been that. The prank war could have ended with Papa III’s embarrassment and the two of them continuing to have a quiet, but markéd, distaste for each other. But Copia did not rise through the ranks on his studiousness alone. You have to be somewhat dangerous if you want to ascend and you’re not of the Emeritus line.

Copia lets III fall into a false sense of security. He barely shows any acknowledgement that he caught him red handed. And Papa III seems begrudgingly grateful that Copia didn’t report him to Sister Imperator; he thinks there’s an uneasy truce. 

But Copia is a patient man. 

The dark solstice is upon them. The shortest day of the year. The time where it is more night than day. It’s not one of their High Unholy Days, but it is a time for new sins and wanton revelry—so one could say it’s an important holiday to the Church. It’s a service III can perform by rote—a few updates to the Latin sermon every year, but basically it’s a boilerplate by now. So he doesn’t really practice it. Just sends it off with his few notes to have it rewritten cleanly.

The service is usually excruciating—the Ghouls and Siblings are counting down the minutes til they can fuck and drink all night; many of the permanent clergy members have heard this sermon for years; Papa III himself is bored with it. Only Nihil, Papa I, and Sister Imperator seem to actually be enjoying the pageantry of it.

This year though, as soon as Papa III gets a few lines in, there’s a hushed tittering in the crowd. III ignores it because: it’s probably just some tomfoolery. He’s more or less spaced out, his brain on autopilot as he sings out the words to the verse. It’s when the murmurings turn into stifled giggles, and he tunes in enough to see Imperator glaring at him, does what he’s actually saying dawn on him.

Oops, I did it again / I played with your heart, got lost in the game / Oh baby, baby / Oops, you think I’m in love / That I’m sent from above / I’m not that innocent /

He stutters and pauses; he picks up the sheaf in front of him, squinting.

Yes.

Oh yes.

His solstice sermon has been replaced with the lyrics to “Oops, I Did It Again.”

He chances a look over to the pew with the Higher Clergy—to gauge from his father and Sister how bad it is—but instead he catches the eyes of an expressionless Cardinal Copia looking deadass back at him. Papa III narrows his eyes and meets The Cardinal’s steady gaze, their white eyes at war. He proceeds to finish his altered sermon with as much pomp and severity that he can lend to an outdated pop song.

His eyes don’t once leave The Cardinal’s.

Afterwards, Papa III is on his way to having a full on hairy conniption. He manages to make it back to his office before he tears off his ceremonial robes in a rage. The Ghouls attending him are surprised and concerned at his uncharacteristic carelessness with his vestments. He hurriedly shoos them out, and then sits down at his desk, panting in ire. He’s not one that angers easily, so he’s unused to the pounding adrenaline. Taking out his aged Scotch—the bottle he really keeps in his desk just for show—he pours himself two fingers (if “two fingers” means the space between his index and pinky fingers) and swallows it down in two gulps, coughing and sputtering at the burn.

It’s enough to take him out of his snit a bit to consider why he’s so angry; it’s not like this particular holiday is of great importance to him, and it’s not like in general he doesn’t find the services tedious. Lucifer, it’s not like doing a dramatic reading of a pop song is out of character for him.

But he would never, never, be so ostensibly irreverent during an important occasion. The heavy eyes of the Church—of his father, of the Sister—are ever on him, watching, waiting. Cardinal Copia made him look like an asshole in front of the whole congregation—and because it’s so on brand, no one probably even thinks it was a joke on him.

And that’s what’s making him incensed: at a time when his tenure as Papa is so precarious, The Cardinal made him look like a buffoon. 

Papa III’s blood boils all over again and his fists tighten. Cardinal Copia crossed a line, may have even done it with malicious intent, and he needs to pay, that Rat.

He takes a generous swig from the bottle before making his way to The Cardinal’s quarters. Unlike III, Cardinal Copia’s office and personal chambers are in the same suite, so he knows there’s a good chance of catching him as he’s changing out of his cassock and into one of those ridiculously tight suits he owns.

Copia has to admit to himself that maybe he took his revenge too far. He was only trying to show Papa III that he’s not a pushover. Given the man’s reputation, Copia didn’t even consider how thrown that man would be at his little switcheroo prank. But there had been a—a what? A sudden slight paleness to the unpainted skin around his face; a moment of panic in his mismatched eyes. He’d continued on with gusto, but there was none of the humor in it that Copia had come to associate with the man. In all honesty, Copia hadn’t expected III to continue (or honestly get so far)—he’d had the correct sermon under his own seat ready to hand over.

This was a Papa he’d expected to linger and joke with his parishioners—instead, III had hustled out of the chapel in a flurry of swirling robes, hardly paying any heed to the Siblings that batted their eyelashes at him in hopes of being one of his chosen revelers. Copia is at war with himself between wanting to apologize and scoffing that the man had brought it on himself, even if Copia had miscalculated.

Everyone knows how pranks can escalate.  

Copia is halfway through the ties and clasps and buttons to get out of his dress cassock when his door bangs open (he hadn’t thought to lock it because he’d assumed everyone was already out on the grounds celebrating). Papa III stands there, panting, with murderous intent in his eyes.

As expected, Papa III finds The Cardinal in a state of half undress (his shapely legs bare and exposed) in his outer office. He’s stopped his ministrations, as if caught in a freeze frame, and staring wide-eyed at Papa. III had come here to really lay into the man, but something about seeing him so caught off guard—like he’s more concerned about changing into his party clothes than how he’s ruined this night for Papa—sets something off on him. Before his brain catches up to his impulses, Papa III is launching himself at The Cardinal, fist drawn back and ready to strike.

But III is a lover, not a fighter. He throws a punch like he’s launching a paper airplane, and The Cardinal easily deflects his attack and—in what can only be a practiced movement—uses his momentum to pin his arm behind his back. He struggles and The Cardinal instantly releases him, hands palm up in appeasement.

“Your Unholiness, please—” starts Copia, but III isn’t here to talk. He goes for Cardinal Copia again, and Copia—expecting another fist—is startled when the palm of III’s hand lands a slap across his cheek. He looks at III, incredulous.

“Did you? Did you just slap me?”

Papa III huffs and raises his chin at The Cardinal.

“Come at me. Bro,” he says in his accented English.

The Cardinal’s mouth drops open, and—before Papa III can relish what he thinks is his victory—Cardinal Copia slaps him hard, right on his cheekbone. Papa is momentarily startled, reflexive tears threatening to spill. When he catches his breath he sees that Cardinal Copia’s eyes are smoldering at him in obvious challenge, so he launches himself at The Cardinal once again.

They both raise their hands to each other, each strike being batted away by the other, until they are both embroiled in very involved, very mature slap fight.

“Stop that!”

“No, you stop that!”

Suddenly Papa III gains the upper, err, hand by gaining a hold on The Cardinal’s wrist; he wrenches it and uses his leverage to push Cardinal Copia on his back onto his desk. The Cardinal goes sprawling, his half undone cassock spreading and exposing his bare legs again. Is he wearing nothing on at all under his ceremonial dress!?

“I see you like to go nude. Let me help you further, dear Cardinal.”

Before The Cardinal has a chance to push him away, III grabs at each side and rips his robes down the middle, belts tearing and buttons popping to scatter every which way, the sound of them skittering across his desk and plinking of the floor now filling the room. The Cardinal grasps frantically at the material, in a vain attempt to keep himself somewhat covered.

Papa III is now panting over The Cardinal, between his legs, and suddenly very aware of the miles of naked skin. Copia is looking up at him with … an unreadable expression. III leans down, gets right into The Cardinal’s face, and says lowly:

“To think I thought of you so chaste. But look at you. Does it give you a thrill? The knowing you could be caught in a compromising position? Or is it the sensation you like, hmm?”

He runs a gloved finger down the sliver of bare chest to where Cardinal Copia is clenching the ends of fabric together with one fist over his crotch. He continues his trail over The Cardinal’s knuckles. His dick gives an interested twitch.

“Even here?”

Copia’s heart is beating fast from the adrenaline; it was foolish of him to forget that he was dealing with a dangerous predator. And now here he is, under him, literally showing his vulnerable belly. Papa III is well within his rights to do anything, take anything, from him. It sets off a tingle of butterflies in his chest.  

While III is distracted with his nethers, Copia uses his other hand to grasp Papa III by the hair. Copia yanks his head down, hard, til their lips meet in a painful smack. He opens his mouth to suck Papa’s plump bottom lip into his mouth, then bites down hard, drawing blood.

III makes an indignant noise, his hand suddenly coming up to grab at Copia’s jaw to hold it firmly in place from further injury. His eyes glare a warning.

“Is that how it is to be, Rat?”

Copia just snarls against the grip.

Papa’s hand slithers from Copia’s jaw to lightly clench around his neck. Copia gasps as much as he can with the restriction, his hands coming up to grab at Papa III’s arm. His ruined cassock falls open completely to reveal that the only thing beneath it is a black g-string. III looks down at it and chuckles.

“What a surprising Rat you are.”

His other hand snakes down between their bodies to yank and pull at the g-string until Copia’s half-hard cock bounces free, betraying his interest in the proceedings. Papa III’s eyes widen as he takes in the girth and size of Copia’s member. Looking back up at Copia with a smirk he says:

“It is no wonder then. Why you are so popular for Initiates.”

“Shall … I  …” wheezes Copia, “Initiate … you too?”

Papa III is studying his face intently.

“No. No, as leader of Church I feel I have been … remiss in my, ah, duties.”

He runs a light finger up the vein in Copia’s cock, which only plumps it into further hardness. With all the blood rushing into either his head or his throbbing dick, Copia is beginning to feel a bit light-headed.

“As high-ranking official, you must be seen to myself. Forgive my negligence, yes?”

Papa III finally lets go of Copia’s neck only to insinuate himself further into the V of his open legs. Copia is momentarily distracted as the air flows freely into his lungs again, and it’s enough for III to start manhandling him onto his stomach. Copia isn’t going to make it easy for the bastard, so he starts to struggle against Papa, who only makes a tetching noise before slapping him across the face.

“Learn your place, Cardinal,” he growls. “This is what is lacking with you, no? You must learn this anew. I am in charge still. You follow my command.”

“When you do any actual leading, I’ll be sure to follow,” hisses Copia.

Papa III snarls at his insolence, and is suddenly on Copia, turning him over in a burst of rage while also tugging his tattered garments free. He pulls the shreds of the cassock away just enough to not be a hindrance, but not enough that Copia has free use of his arms—they’re still caught in his sleeves and now firmly behind his back. Copia has no leverage, but he starts bucking and struggling anyway; Papa just lays a firm hand on the middle of his back and commands him to settle.

Copia huffs; his cheek is squashed into the desk, all his papers are scattered—some crinkling under him—and the edge of the wood is digging into the pudge of his belly. His cock dangles heavy between legs. Copia wishes he had something to rut against—he’s half turned on and III is being a goddamned tease, as usual.

There’s a rustling and movement behind him before he feels the poke of Papa’s hardness against his ass cheek. He tenses.

Papa III isn’t really sure when his anger turned into lust. Or was it always lust—or is it still anger? All he knows is that he has to have this man beneath him. Has to subdue him and assert his authority in some meaningful way. And he’s not immune to the miles of freckles stark on pale skin or the prominent flesh of which he can take handfuls.

He’s been hard ever since he saw The Cardinal’s cock on its way to full mast. So The Rat likes a little dominance, eh? He’s more than happy to show him who’s boss here. He works his cock and balls free through the slit in his pants. He’s going to fuck The Cardinal with his clothes on. He rubs his cockhead into the meat of The Cardinal’s ass, delighting in the jolts of pleasure from the pressure and the visible trail of precum he’s leaving. The Cardinal is trembling and breathing hard beneath him as his takes his pleasure, and it gives him sudden pause, causing him to stop. He’s about to ask Cardinal Copia if he should cease, when The Cardinal looks over his shoulder at him and huffs impatiently,

“Are you waiting for an invitation?!”

Papa III slowly drags his cock from the meat of Copia’s ass to the cleft.

“I was, actually.”

The Cardinal snorts, “Get the fuck on with it, you brat. Is this how you lead, Your Unholiness?”

III growls in frustration at this infuriating man.

“Shall I take you dry, then?”

He spreads The Cardinal’s cheeks and presses the tip of his cock against his hole. Cardinal Copia hisses.

“Ai! If you can’t use spit then there is lube in the top drawer.”

Papa III scoffs. Spit is so … uncouth. Only to be used when absolutely necessary—he is not an animal. He flounders for the drawer and fumbles for the bottle.

“Lonely nights, eh Cardi?”

The Cardinal leers back over his shoulder. “As you say—I am not unpopular with our Siblings.”

“I see. You are like that trike you ride around, except everybody has a go, no?”

“Just what the pot would say to the kettle.”

After removing his gloves, Papa III haphazardly dribbles some lube on his cock and down Copia’s crack—making sure to rub it into his hole. The Cardinal jolts forward—either at the sensation of Papa’s fingers or the coolness of the lube.

“I would not be so mouthy If I be you, Cardinal. I will show you your place and then things between us will be settled, yes?”

“Shall I say yes and appease you?” quips The Cardinal. 

How a man nude and about to be fucked stupid can be so flippant is past Papa. Unceremoniously, he pushes into Copia’s snug ring, exhaling forcefully at his tightness. The Cardinal lets out a punched breath.

“I should very much like your attempts to appease me, Rat,” Papa III says through clenched teeth.

He slides in to the hilt, leans over The Cardinal’s back, and hisses in his ear:

“Will you be a good Rat and appease your Papa?”

The Cardinal lets out a rumbling moan.

Copia is so very full and stretched. He’s no stranger to bottoming, but the Siblings tend to prefer him on top, so it’s been a while. Papa III’s cock feels amazing—just enough to fill him without being obtrusive. Now if only the man will get to it and pound into him hard enough to stimulate his prostate.

“So much … talk. Very little action—just like your leadership,” he says hoping to goad his superior.

Papa III growls and begins to snap his hips into him roughly

“Let’s see if you can handle my big game, hmm?”

Fucking finally.

III drapes himself over Copia’s back, crushing his arms uncomfortably, and boxing him on either side with his arms. Copia hears the man’s panting in his ear and feels the drag of his waistcoat on his uncovered skin. The fill and drag of his cock inside Copia has him shuddering and wishing for some attention on his own dick. Papa is pumping into him fast and hard, but is only really hitting his prostate every several thrusts, which is only a teasing pleasure. With his motion restricted by his own cassock and Papa’s weight, he can’t do much more than grunt out a tempo to each greedy thrust.

“Is this how it is then?” wheezes Copia. “A supple body to masturbate into? No wonder the Siblings come to me.”

Admittedly Papa III is initially enjoying the tight feel of The Cardinal’s body around his dick too much to think of the man underneath him. He’s not one to be rough with his lovers unless they ask him to be, and even then that’s just a game. But The Cardinal is not his lover, this is not a game, and he feels a thrill at the freedom to take out his frustrations on Copia’s body. 

Still. He prides himself on being attentive in the sack, so he slows his thrusts, making sure to pull almost all the way out before sliding back in, though his dick is throbbing with need. He positions his mouth at The Cardinal’s ear to ask:

“Do you think you’ve earned my attentions? Have you learned who here is in charge?”

“If I say ‘yes’ will you touch my cock?”

Papa III is thoughtful for a second.

“No. For that you are to beg. Repent and I will bring you to such lustful heights that you will pray to our Master.”

Despite the lip of the man, The Cardinal is quivering under him. Papa III leans up so he can adjust the angle of Copia’s hips and his thrusts. He does this until he hits the angle that makes the man below him moan wantonly. Now that he knows where the sweet spot is, III starts punching into The Cardinal again, his hands on his hips to drag him back forcefully.

“Is. This. What. You. Want?” asks Papa, making sure to punctuate each word with a hard thrust. The Cardinal lets out a gasping Uhn at each hard jolt. “Shall. I. Make. You. Cum. Just. Like. This? On. My. Cock? Or. Will. You. Beg?”

Papa lets himself luxuriate in the tight feel of the slow drag up and down his cock. He could cum very easily just like this if he wanted—but he’s had years of practice on holding off until his sexual partners cum. The Cardinal is in for a long night if he thinks he can wait him out.

Fuck

If Copia thought the tease of his prostate was bad, this concentrated assault is worse. He can climax readily from a good prostate massage, but this is not that. It’s enough to have his desire flowing and his blood pooling south, but the hill of his orgasm remains frustratingly out of reach. He’s truly at Papa III’s mercy. He can occasionally feel his dick throb inside him, but other than that III shows no signs of getting close. 

Copia squeezes his eyes tighter as he’s jolted against his desk, papers crumpling further. How much longer can he go on like this? He tries for as long as he can, his world narrowing down to the drag of Papa’s cockhead on his prostate and the grip of his hands on his hips. He’s so lost, floating in a haze of near pleasure, that he doesn’t realize his grunts have turned into whimpers of distress. Not until III stops to pet a hand down his head.

“Dear Cardinal. Pride is not the correct sin to indulge here. Will you not let me absolve you?”

His dick is hard and pulsing, and his need to cum is excruciating. And that’s before Papa III begins pounding into him once more. Copia lets out a moaning whine as the white-hot bursts start up again. Before he realizes what it’ll mean, he’s gasping out a pained Please. There’s a slight pause in the man above him—as if he too is surprised at Copia’s entreaty—then a hand snakes under him to give his flushed dick a hard squeeze. Copia gasps at both the pleasure and the pain in the action.

Papa III leans over him again to snarl in his ear, “Now you will pray.”

And pray Copia does as Papa pounds into him and as his clever fingers stroke and manipulate weeping cock.

“Oh sweet, Unholy Lucifer below!”

Papa III had really thought he’d have to torture The Cardinal until the man couldn’t help but cum on his cock, so he was startled when the man gasped out his supplication. He really was appeased.

He’s entranced with show beneath him: The Cardinal is twitching and thrashing and clenching—and it’s making his own cock throb with need. He wonders how hard he can make Copia cum and a sudden burst of desire from his own gut has him purring out a moan. He strokes the man’s cock, making sure to switch it up enough—a slow stroke, then a thumb across his slit, now a squeeze before speeding up—that each change makes The Cardinal jerk in a new crest of pleasure.

III hopes The Cardinal will cum very soon because he would very much like to let himself climax already. As if in answer, Papa feels the dick in his hand get rock hard a second before he feels Copia’s hole tighten vice-like around his own dick (and he subsequently has to breathe out hard so he’s not cumming before he rides out The Cardinal’s climax).

Then The Cardinal is jittering and spasming while yelling, “Ah ah ah—oh fuck! OH FUCK!” The cock in his fist kicks and Papa III can feel the pulsing waves as his cum shoots out and onto the rug; he tries to keep a steady pace through it, but he’s only a man. The Cardinal spends his whole orgasm jerking and twitching, only coming to rest once he’s good and truly milked empty.

Papa releases The Cardinal’s cock quickly so he can grip back onto his hips for the leverage to finally take his own pleasure. He closes his eyes and fucks hard into The Cardinal’s body as he allows his checked desire to wash over him.

“Ah—yes, Unholy Father.”

He lets the pulse and spasm of his orgasm guide his movements as he empties himself in the warmth of The Cardinal’s hole. He allows himself to stay like that for a moment—hands on Copia’s love handles, slightly bent over him, and panting—while he catches his breath and comes back to himself. Beneath him The Cardinal is a mess: he’s covered in sweat that’s dripping down his sides; the black makeup around his eyes is streaked down his face; there’s some torn paper, now moist, sticking to his cheek.

“Good talk, eh?” he pants as he pats Copia’s sweaty flank.

The Cardinal’s head lolls to the side as he attempts to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Papa III chuckles. “Maybe next time.”

Copia doesn’t know if Papa III was kidding, or if he was expecting Their Thing to happen again, but it takes Copia by surprise when it does.

Repeatedly.

If III was thinking that he’d cowed Copia, he was wildly mistaken. Their rivalry only intensifies and if you saw them glaring at each other during sermons or Church rituals, you enter their offices at your own risk lest you get an eyefull. (Some impetuous Siblings and Ghouls will try their hand at joining in, but a dual glare from both their mismatched eyes is enough to send anyone straight to Hell preemptively.)

Not even the confessionals are safe. You don’t even have to get far into the Chapel before you can hear their grunts and barbed words.

The Clergy isn’t really surprised by this turn of events. The two men have been eye fucking since day one. Papa Nihil is resigned that even the promising Cardinal has fallen under his youngest’s spell. Sister Imperator just rolls her eyes and hopes they’ll eventually grow tired of each other and work can get back to being done. She’s only one woman.

It’s one day months into their—ok yes—tryst, that Copia realizes that they haven’t been hate fucking in weeks.

He’s lying in Papa III’s bed as the man himself draws nonsense patterns in the sweat on his chest. Copia had come to him after a frustrating day of first-years who seemed to only have two brain cells amongst them all. He’d vehemently expressed his vexation at their almost willful refusal to retain Latin, knowing Papa would take him in hand and fuck the annoyance out of him. What had started as his attempt to berate Papa III for allowing the new Siblings to be so lazy and a good hate fuck to shut him up, had turned into a genuine arrangement.

Copia’s come to appreciate the care Papa III takes with him, even if it is with mock irritation as he calls him “Rat.” He’s realized that III cares about the Church as much as he does, his verbal sparring with the man enough to prove that he knows his stuff. It’s not that the lackadaisical playboy is an act—it’s not—it’s just hiding deeper waters. He’s shocked to find that he cares for this intemperate man.

He turns his head to look at him.

Papa III stills his hand to return his gaze.

“What is it, my Rat?”

“I think I like you, Papa.”

III’s whole face brightens and he sits up, puffing out his chest.

“Of course you do! Everyone likes Papa. I am the bomb dot com.”

Copia scoffs and pushes at his chest.

“I hate it when you purposefully use slang half your age.”

But III just clucks and wags a finger at him. 

“No you don’t! You like me, remember? You said it not 2 minutes past!”

Copia huffs, turning his back on him and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I was perhaps hasty.”

“Aww, dear Cardinal,” Papa coos as he drapes himself over Copia’s back to rest his chin on Copia’s shoulder, arms encircling his middle, “don’t be fussy. I like you too.”

Then, because he’s a little shit, Papa III presses a loud smacking kiss into Copia’s ear.

That night Papa III will go to Copia’s chambers. Copia will be surprised, but pleased to see him. He’ll tell Copia he wants to bottom for him, making the man tremble with nerves and anticipation. The Cardinal will be overly solicitous with his kisses and soft caresses until III has to yell at him to get a move on. 

Papa will have already prepped himself with a plug Copia will enjoy teasing out of him. Copia is a reverent, gentle top—no shocker there—and he will fuck Papa firmly and slowly, taking special care that his dick is not neglected. Also not surprising is that Papa III is a pretty bossy bottom—he’ll direct Copia on when to speed up or slow down, until he’ll take matters into his own hands by manhandling Copia onto his back so he can ride his cock. Copia will cum first—Papa is good with his muscles—but III will follow soon after, thrilled as always at the way his lover twitches and thrashes in the throes of orgasm.

Afterward Papa III will ask if he can stay the night—they don’t spend the night together often, but when they do The Cardinal always spends it in Papa’s sumptuous bed chambers—and Copia will reply that he is always welcome.

Papa will joke that it’s only because no one will be able to find him and he can sleep in, but when the Ghouls see that III is not in his bed chambers, the next place they look is in The Cardinal’s.

Bonus: Post-Coitus That First Time

“Papa, what are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious? I am cuddling.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Is it not customary to cuddle after a good fuck?”

“Stop calling it cuddling!”

“Why? What would you have me call it? A good snuggle, then?”

“Ai, that is worse.”

“… is it because I am the big spoon?”

“It is not—whatever! Why are you doing it?”

“I meant it, Cardinal. This unholy parish is mine. I take care of all my black sheep. Especially when they are good rats.”

*nose boop*

“You are mine now. Stop being so grumpy. Enjoy the serotonin.”

[heartbeatan]

Technicality (Chapter 7)

Return to Chapter 6.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Hoseok Fanfictions.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 7

You did your business and cleaned up before you began to check yourself over in the mirror. You brushed your sex hair with your fingers, wiped up errant mascara, and turned to each side to get a look at your figure. When your eyes landed upon the hem of his shirt, which you were wearing, your eyes drifted upwards to see its whole reflection and you in it. So many times had you done this. Stood in the mirror of Hoseok’s bathroom after sex, admiring how you looked in his oversized shirts. So many times after did he whisper in your ear “you were gone too long” and so many times did it make your heart flutter and make you realize how content you were to be with someone like him. That was before. So, how did you end up here again?

Your thoughts began to swirl once again. Tonight, was just sex. You couldn’t get your hopes up that any of this meant anything more than that. You couldn’t let old feelings begin to resurface. You had to keep them at bay, not get lost in them. You had to just enjoy the night for what it was.

Pull yourself together.

You made your way to the kitchen to fetch some water as promised, but Hoseok exited the bedroom, in nothing but his boxers, to join you.

"I could have brought this in," you said."

"I wanted to see you again," he smiled as he took a seat at the island."

"You saw me like 5 minutes ago."

"It was 4 minutes too long."

Your chest tightened at his words. How could he say those things to you like it had meant nothing? But you realized in that moment that they had meant nothing to him.

"Are you hungry?"

"No. Not for food anyways,"" he winked. Your eyes nearly rolled out of your head at that and he laughed whole-heartedly at your near vomitus reaction."

Well… you were hungry… and you suspected you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, so you figured you should take this opportunity for sustenance. You searched the kitchen and found day old noodles in the fridge, a half-eaten bunch of grapes, and an open bag of chips. You handed him a set of chopsticks, a glass of water and the two of you went to town on your three-course meal.

“I thought you weren’t hungry for food,” you quizzed him.

“I just can’t resist your cooking,” he jeered through a mouthful of the cold, leftover noodles.

It was nice the way you two talked and played while you finished off the food. It was really nice - like the months apart had never existed. As if he hadn’t broken your heart when he said all those things to you when you confronted him so long ago.

When the food was all gone, he threw away the trash while you wiped the counter and cleaned the chopsticks in the island sink. He came up from behind you and rubbed his hands around your waist. He rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed his face into the side of your head - you could feel the tip of his nose and lips brushing against your ear. He began to nibble on your earlobe while his hands slid down your sides, over your hips and to your outer thighs. He slid his hands back up your sides then down the length of your arms until his hands were over yours underneath the running water. He rubbed his hands over yours then pulled them out from under the water and up to the top fastened button of your shirt, guiding you to undo it. Some of the water dripped down your chest but somehow it felt unbelievably good.

He led your hands back underneath the water and guided them to undo the next button. This time, he abandoned your hands and let his slide across your breasts, soaking the fabric. The chill from the water instantly brought your nipples to attention and you pursed your lips to stifle a moan. Despite the cold, no one could turn you on and make your body burn the way Hoseok could. You felt his thumbs brush over the stiff peaks and your breasts began to ache as you wanted the cotton gone and nothing but his palms over them.

He must’ve known, because when you undid the next button, he slid a wet hand into your shirt and pulled your breast roughly against you. You leaned your head back into him as he mouthed at your neck. You reached back and ran your fingers through his hair as he brought his dripping hands under your shirt, stretching and sliding his fingers across your stomach. The water dripped down your thighs. You shuffled against him, agitated and turned on by how the wetness felt in contrast to his hot skin.

You undid your last button then turned to him and spread your damp hands down the front of his chest. The little droplets crept downward over his muscles until they disappeared at his waistband. You wanted to lick them up with your tongue. So, you did - starting with the lowest one first. The one that hung just above his pubic bone. He raised his chin and let out an uneven breath. You were sure to make your strokes long and wide and teasing. You could see his chest begin to rise and fall as his breaths became heavy.

Once you licked the last of the water away, he leaned into you for a long – more tongue than lips – kiss, trapping your body between him and the counter as he reached back one more time to turn off the tap. He placed a heavy, wet hand over your neck then slid it down across your chest and over your stomach. Your belly jolted at the sensation. Who knew doing dishes could become such a sexual act?

He then rolled both of his hands behind you, grabbing your backside - you gasped as he swiftly lifted you onto the counter.

“I want to fuck you right here,” he whispered.

“I want you to fuck me right here,” you whispered back.

“Yeah?” he leaned in as if he was going to kiss you, but as you went in to greet his lips, he pulled away leaving you biting at empty space. Payback for all those times you teased him with that exact move. He then moved to your collarbone and slid his hands underneath your shirt and over your shoulders to remove it from your body. When it was off, he wrapped his fingers under your jaw and with a simple flick of his thumb underneath your chin, tilted your head upwards so you were looking up at him.

“Then I’m going to give it to you real bad,” he said. You couldn’t remember what the question was - but it didn’t matter. You wanted bad whatever he was going to give you.

He parted your knees and sunk down to hover his face over your groin - you could feel his warm breath over your centre. He leaned forward and pressed his lips over the fabric shielding your clit, then took it between his teeth, pulling your panties away from your body before he let them go and they snapped back onto you. He took hold of them again, this time with his fingers, and slid them slowly from your limbs and tossed them to the side.

Hoseok then grabbed your ankles and placed them onto the counter to the sides of your body, leaving you naked and obscenely wide open in front of him. He stood back a bit to stare at the position he put you in – admiring it as if he was and artist reviewing his own work. He rubbed his chin and met your gaze - his eyes were devilish, like he had a plan and he was warning you about it.

“Hoseok,” you pleaded.

He wrapped his arms underneath your thighs and slowly drew his face towards your centre - he was so close you could almost feel his mouth on you again. Your clit was throbbing, and your legs were quivering in desperation.

Why does he have to do things so fucking slow? Why does he love so much to see you fucked out like this? Why does he want to hear you beg for him? But you’re not above begging at this point.

“You’re so fucking wet already,” he marveled. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Touch me, Hoseok,” you croaked.

“I don’t think I need too.” But he did as he said it. You felt his fingers part your folds and your hips shuffled involuntarily on the counter. He brought his face into you and you finally – fucking finally – felt his tongue begin to flick rapidly against your clit.

“Oh, Jesus!” you called out when he flattened his tongue firmly against the nerves. You ran your fingers through his hair and your pelvis began to roll against his face. “More, Hoseok. I want more.”

“So demanding,” he grinned against you, and you felt his chuckle reverberate through you. But again, he didn’t deny you. Not this time. He raised himself so he was eye-level with you, wrapped his hand around his cock and brought it to your folds. He rolled his hip a few times, soaking his dick in your juices preparing to enter you. Your hips bucked against the feeling and a smug grin stretched across Hoseok’s face. You said a little prayer that he wasn’t going to get any ideas.

To your luck, he didn’t – or if he did, he abandoned them in his quest to fuck you now. He brought his dick to your entrance and pressed the tip inside. He hooked his elbows under your knees and spread you wide so you could take the rest. Your palms pressed on the granite behind you to keep your balance, and soon Hoseok was staring into your soul as he fucked you hard over the counter.

He let out small moans with each thrust. You loved his little pants - they turned you on, made you wet and yearn for more of him even though you already had him. You, however, weren’t even sure if you were breathing. The precarious position you were in left you unable to grind against him and unable to cling to anything.

“Nguuuhhhh,” you finally creaked out once you found your breath and your voice again. That smug look crossed Hoseok’s face again when you did. He was pleased you were taking him so well.

Unable to sit any longer, you laid back against the coolness of the granite, reached above your head and wrapped your fingers over the ledge of the island counter to brace yourself. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Hoseok held your hips hard and fucked you even harder.

“Oh, sh-shit!” you began to sob as you felt the coil inside you begin to tighten.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he crooned. How was he still so in control, so collected?

“Fuck… y-yes,” you barely managed to breathe out before the coil snapped.

“Ohhhhh!!!” you cried out. You hadn’t screamed that loud during sex in a long time. You would’ve been worried your neighbours would hear your “o” noises if you had any sense to care. “Ugh!” you called out again as your chamber closed tightly several times around Hoseok’s cock. Your back rose and slammed against the counter over and over with each passing wave of pleasure.

“Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight,” you thought you heard him say, but you weren’t sure, passed the ringing of your ears, if he had actually said anything at all.

Hoseok pumped his hips through your climax as best as he could – you were making it difficult. He didn’t manage to come. You found that out after you caught your breath and asked him.

“Finish off, I can take it,” you panted as you laid there, a boneless pile of mush.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok raised an eyebrow and sounded skeptical.

“Yeah,” you assured him as you scooted off the counter onto trembling legs, then turned and bent yourself over it so he could take you from behind. “Come on, baby, fill me up.”

He laughed at how nonchalant you were about him fucking you like a flesh light for another minute.

“I’m fine, ba-“

“Hoseok,” you said sternly. “Be a man and fuck me or at least rub one out and come on my back.”

He snorted. Then he snorted again. Then he broke out into a fit of laughter.

“What?” you asked, but the laughter was beginning to form behind your words as well. What the hell did you just say?

“I- I-“ he was trying to form an apology for laughing but he couldn’t. His head bowed into the crux of your neck and he chuckled into it, trying to collect himself. But you couldn’t collect yourself either. You too had become a hysteric mess.

When the fit was over, and your sides hurt, he wrapped his arms tight around your waist and pulled your back flush against his chest.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered in your ear. The humour was still there, but the sentiment was also laced with something heavier. Something deeper. Something that made your insides flutter and a ridiculous grin stretch across your face.

“Do you want me to help you finish?” you whispered back to him.

“No, I’m fine. The moments over and the sails are down.”

You leaned your head up to look at him and gave him a peck on the lips. “I’ll get you back next time then.”

He winked back.