#it's not its own thing (ten) it's actually 'twelve minus two'

[secrettreestuffidk]

you ever think about how pretty much the only reason we use base10 is because we have 10 fingers and if everyone had 6 fingers on each hand we'd use base12 and never even think a thing of it and also math would be pretty much better in every way?

[thessalian]

Thess vs Minor Disaster

I am having an excruciatingly late dinner. But I swear there are reasons! These reasons involve soup, and me being an idiot.

Now, mostly, the making of potato soup went fine. I even managed a nice recovery when I forgot about the chicken stock and made it real quick while the onions were cooking in the bacon grease. Now, when I say ‘fine’, I mean ‘would be a lot more fine for anyone who doesn’t have a chronic pain condition’ because we’re talking about peeling two and a half pounds or so of potatoes and then dicing them into half-inch pieces, but I actually found a way to do that so it wasn’t as hard on me as it might have been! See, my instant pot does its browning cycle in three-minute intervals, and the bacon needed at least ten minutes to give up its bacon grease (for cooking the onions in) and become nice and crispy (to sprinkle on the soup later), so I just peeled and chopped a potato, stirred the bacon, peeled and chopped the potato, set the instant pot for another three minutes, and repeated until the potatoes were done. By that point I already had more or less everything ready, and honestly, it’s nice when a recipe says “one teaspoon fresh thyme leaves” and all I have to do is go out on the balcony and snip some off my thyme plant. Even having nearly forgotten the chicken stock until almost the last minute turned out okay; I just boiled up the water while the onions were cooking and crumbled in my stock cubes and it was ready right on time.

Now, while part of it might be down to the Max Fill line on my instant pot being a littel too generous, most of it was my own forgetting a key thing about how pressure cookers work. Look, I’ve only used the thing once as an actual pressure cooker, so I kind of forgot to let things stop boiling before I twisted the pressure valve. All of a sudden, there was an Old Faithful of creamy soup. Now, in hindsight, I probably should have just turned the pressure valve so that nothing more erupted, but ... well, my self-disappointment wants to blame fibro fog and panic, but really looking back it was “I do not want to stick my hand anywhere near pressurised steam and cream soup��. I used up most of a roll of paper towels and a couple of J-cloths, and had to put my dish towels in the laundry, and wipe soup off of everything (the microwave, the counter, the various things on the counter, the instant pot itself, the floor, even stuff in the cupboard below the counter because apparently the liquid-proofing is shit), and it hurt. A lot.

(However, I will concede that it’s a lesson well-learned, and the end result still tasted phenomenal. Definitely one to repeat. Just ... with the less being stupid about the pressure valve, thanks.)

Thing is, I’d been planning roast pork for dinner. I could have put it off until tomorrow ... but I have some broccoli florets that need eating and some potatoes left over from the soup that just wouldn’t fit without exceeding the maximum capacity of my instant pot and I didn’t have any protein that would go with those things (or at least, that wasn’t earmarked for something else) so pork roast had to happen. I just had to rest up before I did anything. So one hot bath, some painkillers, and a lot of sitting down later, I could finally start the pork roast.

The pork roast requires a half-hour of salt soaking into the rind and then over two hours in the oven.

This is why dinner will be at like half-twelve.

But hey, at least I have soup. And that recipe will go on Cooking With Spoons, possibly minus the Soup Geyser story.

[voltrontranscript]

VLD S8E7: Day Forty-Seven

Season 8 Episode 7: Day Forty-Seven

Transcript by @dragonofyang

Summary: Kinkade and Rizavi film a vlog that follows a relatively normal day on the IGF-Atlas with its humorous moments and the stress of battle.

[Google Doc]

Kinkade: Hello. This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 0600 hours. It’s day forty-seven. And this is a glimpse at day-to-day life aboard the IGF-Atlas.

[Cut to Kinkade brushing his teeth as the camera floats over his shoulder.]

Kinkade: Last night, I unpacked my video gear and decided to document the crew. I know it seems strange, but before Earth was attacked, I didn’t go anywhere without my camera.

[Cut to Kinkade running on a treadmill.]

Kinkade: Back home, people asked me why I liked recording things. They also asked me why I didn’t talk that much. To both of those things, I’d always say… [grunts]

[Cut to Kinkade doing pull-ups.]

Kinkade: Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

Romelle: You’re recording? Why?

Griffin: Kinkade has always been, uh… an individual who’s most comfortable observing and reflecting on life. Being a fighter pilot was actually his backup plan.

[Cut to Kinkade wearing a blindfold as he works on his blaster rifle.]

Kinkade: It’s true. I learned how to shoot with a camera before I learned how to shoot with a rifle. I guess filming is just a small piece of the larger puzzle that makes up the picture of who I am. Hm.

[Cut to Kinkade turning the camera on once more and walking to a fighter jet.]

Rizavi: So you’re really shooting another documentary? Please tell me this is going to be more exciting than that project you did for Mr. Pollard’s biology class about yeast.

Kinkade: That was actually about the process of fermentation. Yeast converts carbohydrates into carbon diox--

Rizavi: Boring! Okay, look, if this little documentary is how history will remember us, I’m gonna help you spruce it up! How many cameras do you have? What’s your visual effects budget? Do you have any smoke bombs?

[Cut to Keith and Pidge facing the camera as it focuses on Pidge directly.]

Kinkade: Okay. We’re set.

Rizavi: So, uh, catch us up on what’s going on.

Pidge: Right. Well, the Atlas is headed to the Grei-Aye system where we’ve identified the remains of a disabled robeast.

Rizavi: Oh! Those things are pretty dangerous, right?

Pidge: Do I need to explain that the robeast was one of the ones used in Honerva’s intergalactic ritual?

Rizavi: No, it’s fine.

Pidge: Okay. Um, so, once the Atlas arrives in orbit around the planet, the other Paladins and I will head down to the surface to secure the robeast and hopefully find its Altean pilot.

Rizavi: Ugh, okay. Keith! Why don’t you tell us about the dangers of this mission?

Keith: Well, every mission has some inherent dangers. For this one, we have to be especially diligent about the robeast. Even if it’s not fully functional, it can still pose an extreme threat. Combine that with the hostile Altean that’s probably still in the vicinity, and you’ve potentially got threats on multiple fronts.

Hunk: Hey, guys. What’s up? You making a movie? Cool. Can I be in it? Now, wait, if this is an action movie… is it? I don’t wanna be in it.

Rizavi: Hunk, we’re trying to do an interview here.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Yeah, my bad. I just came by to see if you wanted to try this new recipe I’ve been experimenting with. This is just the first pass. The final version of it will be coming soon. No, Bae Bae! Not for you! I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’ll make you some doggy treats later.

Kinkade: What’s the recipe? Can we watch you work?

Hunk: Well, yeah! Yeah, this’ll be great! I’ve secretly always wanted my own cooking show.

Rizavi: What? No! Keith was just telling us about the mission and all the dangers! We’re not losing that to document cooking.

Kinkade: But, I like cooking.

Rizavi: It’s like you’re trying to make this boring.

Hunk: Whoa, first of all, cooking is not boring, okay? And it can bring people together. Some of the best times of my life were spent breaking bread with loved ones.

Keith: So, is this interview over?

Rizavi: No! Great, now the talent’s getting restless!

Iverson: Everyone, report to your battle stations immediately! I repeat… battle stations immediately! This is not a drill!

Rizavi: The camera!

Kinkade: Leave it! We need to go!

Rizavi: But this is gold!

Kinkade: Come o--

Iverson: MFE pilots, report to hangars alpha-bravo! Scrambling fighters in five! Paladins, stand by for launch.

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the fallen camera and carries it around.]

Shiro: Where did it come from? Veronica, get me eyes on it!

Coran: That thing just appeared out of nowhere!

Shiro: Iverson, fire when ready!

Iverson: Target acquired! We’ve got lock! Wait. No… we lost it! Target has gone dark!

Veronica: Electromagnetic radiation from that planet is overloading our radars.

Shiro: Voltron, do you have a visual? I repeat, Voltron, do you have a visual?

Keith: Not yet. We’re going in now! Stand by! We can’t see a thing in here!

Griffin: Copy that. We have zero visibility as well. We need a visual.

Curtis: Roger. Trying another avenue. Scanning for biometrics. Visual acquired!

Coran: Incoming!

Iverson: Recharging all starboard cannons!

Curtis: Sensors are offline!

Iverson: What is that thing?

Coran: It’s massive!

Shiro: Iverson, open fire!

Coran: Direct hit! It’s coming back around for another shot!

Shiro: Veronica, prep shields!

[Scene change as the camera falls down a vent into Sam and Slav’s workstation.]

Sam: Whatever hit us just knocked loose the gravity generator! Grab the flaxum assembly!

Slav: I can’t do that! It’s red!

Sam: Is this one of your crazy probability, reality things?

[Scene change to a hallway as soldiers float through to their stations.]

Shiro: All crew, report to stations and prepare for Atlas transformation--

Atlas Crewmember: Go, go, go!

Shiro: --in T-minus thirty seconds!

[Scene change as Bae Bae finds the camera again and carries it.]

Colleen: Bae Bae, what are you doing out here? And what’s this in your mouth? A camera? Come on, girl.

Shiro: All crew, prepare for Atlas transformation sequence in five… four… three… two… one!

[Scene change as the camera dies, then powers on again facing Kinkade once more.]

Kinkade: Camera’s fully charged. We’re good to go. The time is now 0900 hours. We just experienced a minor mishap aboard the IGF-Atlas, but we’re back on track. In the future, we’ll hopefully be avoiding creature-occupied gas planets.

[Cut to Kinkade floating through a hallway.]

Kinkade: Hey, Seok Jin, where you headed?

Seok Jin: I’m transporting these samples back to Earth. Commander Holt thinks it can help with the recovery efforts there.

Kinkade: Well, they couldn’t have picked a better man for the job. Take care, man. Hey, Seok Jin… we’ll miss you, buddy.

[Scene change to the camera looking into the mess hall, where Vrepit Sal is cleaning tables and then rotates to face the hallway.]

Rizavi: There you are! Tell me this thing was recording during the attack! That was so intense! Oh, this documentary’s gonna be awesome!

[Cut to Kolivan sitting in a small office facing the camera.]

Kolivan: I believe our heading readout en route was 92254739.275. Wait, no. It was 9.265. Yes. That was our heading per our readout just prior to our deployment.

Rizavi: [mock snoring]

Kolivan: Our teams vary in size. Often we use the three-person unit, but it’s not unusual to have a four- or a five- or perhaps even a six-person unit. Seven seems rare, but... it could happen.

Rizavi: Okay, I like everything you’re telling me, but let’s just try it a little less like you’re reporting the facts to your commanding officer and a little more like you’re telling your friend an exciting story in the gym. You understand?

Kolivan: Yes, understood.

Rizavi: Okay, good. Why don’t you tell us about your last mission?

Kolivan: Our last mission took place on planet K-V Exus. The Blades divided into three four-person teams and we escorted approximately twelve rescue crafts to the surface. I believe our heading readout was 359.222--

Rizavi: Thank! Thank you! Okay, I think we got it!

Kolivan: But I wasn’t done.

Rizavi: Yeah, you nailed it. Yeah. We need to get someone more exciting in here.

[Cut to Coran leaning into the camera as it slowly attempts to focus on him.]

Coran: Then the Atlas started firing with everything it had! And don’t forget the white hole is swirling right next to us the entire time! Oh, no, it’s about to close! Meanwhile, not one, but two, yes, two, robeasts are attacking! Shiro’s shouting out orders. “Coran, get closer! Iverson, open fire!” Beams of quintessence energy are converging from all over the galaxy! Ah! You know, you could just imagine it.

[Scene change to Rizavi turning the camera on in Slav and Sam’s workspace.]

Sam: Welcome to the engine room. What you see here is just a tiny part of what keeps the ship functioning.

Rizavi: Slav, you’ve created some incredible technology. What do you think of the Atlas?

Slav: I can respect any engineering that extrapolates for transmutation, but I wish the writing was in Altean.

Sam: He’s mentioned that a few times.

Rizavi: So what are you doing now?

Slav: Right now we’re about to adjust the gravity generator, which was fractionally increased during our last battle.

Sam: Yes, our gravity generator is actually a fluid system, ever-changing depending on the specific needs of the location, so it requires recalibrating from time to time. Okay, adjust gravity generator back down to .12.

Slav: Copy. Adjusting now.

Sam: What did you press?

Slav: I don’t know! Which one is the two again? I can’t read these weird symbols you call numbers! Hey, big guy, toss me over! Oh, no. Directly on a crack!

Kinkade: Weird.

[Cut to the camera focusing on some juniberry shoots in a pot.]

Colleen: Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s an Altean juniberry. The first one to bloom in nearly ten thousand years. I managed to get it to grow by resequencing the genetic code of a similar plant. I wanna give it to Allura. These are our fertilizers. We have fish emulsion, worm castings, Kaltenecker manure. Just so much great recycled poop! And this is our lighting station. I like to say our lighting array is literally out of this world! You know, because we’re, you know, on a space ship.

Rizavi: Can I take a shot at this?

[Cut to the camera panning across the crops in the grow room.]

Rizavi: Welcome to extreme space harvesting! Where we have plants and crops and super fertilizers all under one roof! Meet Colleen Holt, the botanical genius behind it all.

[Cut to Colleen sitting in a chair in the grow room.]

Colleen: I guess I just liked plants all my life. I’ve done a lot of research, but I know I have much to learn. I guess… I like… the challenge. I’m sorry, where am I supposed to be looking?

Rizavi: Without Colleen, all life aboard the ship could perish. One bad crop, the introduction of one foreign pest, and it’s all over.

Colleen: I just like plants.

Hunk: Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting something again? I just--I just came in to see if Colleen had a very specific type of yeast.

Kinkade: Yeast? What for?

Rizavi: Oh, no.

Hunk: It’s that recipe I’ve been working on. I think I got the topping down, but I’m still trying to figure out the sweet bread.

Colleen: Well, I have so many strains of yeast, it’ll make your head spin. I got AB972, S288C. I even have O unilateralis. Don’t mess with that one.

Kinkade: Are you getting this?

Rizavi: Unfortunately, yes.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through a hallway.]

Rizavi: The time is 1200 hours. We just got word that we are in the Grei-Aye star system. The Paladins will be heading down to the surface of the planet any second now.

[Cut to the camera facing Allura, Lance, and Keith in the hangar for Black Lion.]

Rizavi: Lance, how are you feeling about the mission you’re about to go on?

Lance: Oh, hey. I’m feeling good, I guess. Maybe a little tense. Maybe a lot tense. I don’t know. Why’d you have to ask me that question?

Allura: I think what Lance is trying to say is he’ll be fine. We all will.

Keith: Let’s move out.

[Camera cuts to Kinkade and Rizavi standing a ways away from Blue Lion as it launches.]

Rizavi: Right now, we’re headed to the situation room where we’ll be monitoring the Paladins in real-time.

Kinkade: By the way, you know we’re not gonna be able to bring our camera into that meeting, right?

Rizavi: Says who?

[Scene change to the situation room where Veronica, Coran, Sam, and Shiro are all facing a screen showing a no-signal symbol.]

Sam: Come in, Pidge. Are you reading us?

Pidge: Okay, we’ve just touched down on the surface.

Keith: We’re at the crash site now.

Pidge: That’s the robeast. It looks disabled, just like our intel reported. The Altean should be nearby.

Shiro: Paladins, brace for incoming!

Hunk: I didn’t know it could do that!

Keith: Take cover!

Shiro: Paladins, report! We’ve lost visual. Bridge, lock onto that ship now!

Curtis: Yes, Captain. Adjusting to long-range parameters. Locked on!

Shiro: Light it up!

Curtis: Direct hit!

Lance: Nice shot, Atlas!

Hunk: Yeah, thanks for the cover!

Shiro: Bridge, stay on alert.

[Cut to the Altean viewscreen of Pidge’s point of view through her helmet.]

Allura: Stand by, Atlas. We’re approaching the ship.

Hunk: Guys, there doesn’t seem to be a pilot inside.

Keith: Hey, guys. Over here.

Pidge: Keith’s found something. Let’s go! Give me a second. Just reconfiguring to this barrier’s isometric frequency. There! That should do it.

Keith: Atlas, our target is acquired.

Overlapping voices: Yippee! Alright! Yeah!

Shiro: Great job, everyone!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi floating through another hallway.]

Rizavi: We just got word that the Paladins have returned from their mission. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of this new Altean.

Kinkade: This’ll be the sixth Altean pilot we’ve recovered from the powered-down robeasts left behind after Honerva escaped Oriande. Allura keeps trying, but she hasn’t been able to get any information from them as of yet.

[Camera cuts to Rizavi standing outside a room marked “Authorized Personnel Only”.]

Rizavi: Commander Shirogane said you two were needed on the bridge. We’ll cover your station.

Woman: Yes, Lieutenant.

Rizavi: There! Oh, man, I think we missed the beginning.

Romelle: Tavo, please. You and I grew up alongside one another. You must trust me. We’re here to help.

Tavo: We were told you are a traitor, and I can see now that it is true.

Allura: I’m done talking with him. I’m done with all of them.

Kinkade: Uh, what are you doing?

Rizavi: Sh! I got an idea.

Lance: Anything?

Allura: No. He was just like the others. A true believer in Honerva, and there’s nothing I can say that would make him think otherwise.

Lance: I’m sorry.

Allura: No, I am. These Alteans are the key to unlocking Honerva’s plan. They’re my people, but they won’t speak with me. You have no idea what it’s like to find out after ten thousand years that you’re not the last of your kind… only to be rejected by them.

Lance: I don’t. But I wish every day there were something I could do to change it all for you. You’ve suffered more than anyone should in a thousand lifetimes. But still you persist. Through the pain, you inspire. It’s one of the reasons I fell in love with you.

Kinkade: No, that’s private.

Rizavi: Kinkade, what are you doing? That was our love angle!

[Camera cuts out, then focuses in on Romelle’s face.]

Kinkade: Please don’t touch that.

Romelle: Oh, sorry.

Rizavi: So, Romelle, you know these Alteans from your time on the colony?

Romelle: Yes, I lived alongside them for many decaphoebs. They are good people.

Kinkade: What do you think would make them join forces with Honerva?

Romelle: I don’t know. But you must understand, my people were hunted nearly to extinction. They’re afraid. And this Honerva… she’s turned that fear to aggression. If there was just some way to get through to them.

[Cut to the mess hall.]

Griffin: I’ve never seen anything like it. All those tentacles… so nasty.

[Cut to the kitchen where Hunk is stirring something purple in a pan.]

Hunk: Oh, hey. You’re just in time. I was just about to add the yeast Colleen gave me. No, Bae Bae! Bad dog!

[Cut to Kinkade and Rizavi sitting at a table with Allura.]

Kinkade: First off, thanks for doing this, Allura.

Allura: You’re welcome.

Rizavi: Maybe we can start with the Alteans we have aboard.

Allura: What about them? They’re on the wrong side of this war and they refuse to speak with me. There’s nothing else to say.

Rizavi: So, you’re frustrated?

Allura: Yes, I am. Oriande was destroyed, Lotor is back, and we aren’t any closer to tracking down Honerva. She’s out there, right now, planning something, preparing, and growing stronger. And we’re here flying around in circles, searching for Fraunhofer lines that don’t appear and scanning for wormhole signatures that don’t exist!

Rizavi: Do you think we’ll ever find Honerva?

Allura: No. I think she’ll find us.

[Camera cuts back to Hunk in the kitchen, this time wearing oven mitts.]

Hunk: Okay, it’s been a long day, but I’m finally done.

Kinkade: What is it?

Hunk: It’s an authentic Altean dessert! I’m gonna give it to the Alteans. Coran helped me with the recipe, but I think his memory was, like, a little bit fuzzy, so, you know, I did some improvising. No big whoop.

Kinkade: You did this for them? Why?

Hunk: Well, I don’t know. Because food has a way of reminding people of moments in time. That’s why I made a dessert. Usually, when you eat dessert, you’re pretty happy, right? Who knows? Maybe this’ll help those Alteans remember some moment that made them smile. Something before all this madness. That could go a long way in building a relationship. Well, that’s just what I think.

[Cut to the Alteans in a holding cell as the camera zooms out and pans to face Hunk.]

Hunk: Please, eat. Look, it’s good! Mm, really!

Tavo: You made this? It reminds me of home.

Hunk: Well, I had a little help from someone born and raised on Altea. A-and I know you don’t wanna talk with them, but Allura and Coran know more about your homeland than anyone alive. They were on Altea until its final day. They both would’ve stayed and died to protect it if Alfor hadn’t sent them away. That’s how much they loved it.

Tavo: I heard Altea was one of the most beautiful places in the universe. Did your Alteans ever tell you about the zyo crystal springs outside of the capital? The stories say those cliffs were more beautiful than all of the stars combined.

Hunk: They never told me about them. But I’m sure they’d love to tell you themselves.

[Scene change to Kinkade sitting in casual clothes facing the camera.]

Kinkade: This is Lieutenant Ryan Kinkade, MFE pilot. The time is 2300 hours. Day forty-seven aboard the IGF-Atlas is officially done.

End.

[goldencursive]

Chapter Two: 1965 words

Title: bro, will you be my bro forever, bro?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Kaminari Denki/Sero Hanta, Kaminari Denki & Sero Hanta

Characters: Kaminari Denki, Sero Hanta, Uraraka Ochako, Ashido Mina, Hagakure Tooru, Midoriya Izuku, Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

Additional Tags: BNHA Rarepair Week 2021, Fake/Pretend Relationship, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Humor, or At Least an Attempt at Humor, Carnival, Meet the Family, a wedding wheeee, its not kamisero's lol, POV Kaminari Denki, POV Sero Hanta, POV Alternating, Mutual Pining

Summary:

alternatively titled: five times denki and hanta pretend to boyfriends and one time they actually are

“Brooooo, look at that!” Eijirou’s excited voice calls from ahead. The Bakusquad were hanging out at the fair during a rare day of relaxation. Most of the other members of their class are scattered around the fairgrounds somewhere, but right now, the five of them - minus Kyouka, who’s on a date with Yaomomo - are standing in front of a small contest stage.

“Wow,” Hanta remarks. “That is a giant Pikachu plushie.” Denki gapes at it. It’s in a sitting position, arms out, face beaming. It’s as big as he is. He wants it.

“I want it,” Denki announces out loud. “It looks so soft and cute and huggable. Can you imagine the cuddles you could get out of it?”

The Pikachu is sitting close enough to the front of the stage that they could touch it if they want to. Well, if they had really long arms. Like, arms twice as long as their legs, while holding one of those claw grabber thingys.

Okay, maybe they can’t touch it, but still. They can see it close up in its full, fluffy glory.

“Hey, you guys admiring our Pikachu plushie?” A bubbly girl with bright green hair pops up from behind it. “You can win it from our contest! Couples only, starts in an hour. I can give you a sign up sheet if you want it.”

Denki turns to Hanta immediately, because he might not have a boyfriend, but he does have a best friend who he’s totally not crushing on what do you mean and who owes him so many favors for charging his phone. “Hanta, bro, please. I have never wanted anything more in my life.”

Mina snickers and drapes her arm around him. “Didn’t you say that last week about the cake Sato made?”

“His cakes are like heaven and angel tears rolled up in the burrito of the gods, okay? Don’t judge me, Kiri said the same thing.” Denki crosses his arms, pouting. “Anyways, I have never wanted anything more in my life, Hanta, please help me.”

Katsuki smacks Denki in the back of the head (but nowhere near as hard as he would have in first year because they’re totally friends now, no matter how much he likes to deny it). “Idiot, you didn’t even see what kind of fucking contest it is. Don’t just jump into it without being prepared.”

“Says you,” Mina snickers.

“Oi, you wanna die?!”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” she answers playfully, ducking behind Eijirou.

While Eijirou tries to defuse the Bakubomb, Denki turns to the sign next to the Pikachu. “How well do you know your partner?” he reads. “Hey, that doesn’t sound too hard! We know each other pretty well, I think,” he says, turning to Hanta. Although he’s not sure the kind of information he knows, like how Hanta still sleep with a blanket his mom made

“I mean, it’ll be fun,” shrugs the taller boy. “I’m down.”

Denki cheers, and accepts a sheet from the girl. “Let’s gooooo.”

<><><><><>

An hour later, they’re sitting across from each other with a whiteboard in their hands. The three couples sit at tables arranged in a row with the two hosts in front of them and the prize Pikachu on a raised pedestal behind them.

“All right, let’s get started!” cries the bubbly girl from earlier. “I’m Hina and this is Yumi.” She gestures to the pink haired girl beside her, who cheerfully waves to the crowd gathered in front of the stage. “This is our ‘How Well Do You Know Your Partner’ contest for couples. It’s a lot harder than you’d think! We host this every day at the same time, so if you wanna participate but missed out today, you can always come back tomorrow! Now, can we get some introductions from our couples? We’ll start with you two,” she says, gesturing to the couple on the right of Denki and Hanta, a shy looking boy and brown haired girl.

They wave to the audience, introducing themselves as Yui and Haruto. “We’ve been together for over a year now, so I’m certain we’ll win!” the girl, Yui, says, smiling.

“All right, long term relationships are the best for this kind of contest! How about you guys?” Hina continues, gesturing to Denki and Hanta.

“What up, people? I’m Denki, and this is Hanta, my best bro and the love of my life.” Denki gives Hanta a dopey smile that’s not hard to fake because it’s not fake, and playfully bats his eyelashes, making Hanta crack up.

“Bro, stop, you’re going to make me blush in front of all these people,” Hanta says between snickers.

“What a lovely relationship! We love the ones where you can play around with your partners,” Hina says with a grin. “Now, what about the last couple?”

“I’m Ayaka and my girlfriend is Sora,” grins a girl with hair red enough to rival Eijirou’s. “We’re just here for the Pikachu!” Her girlfriend smacks her arm for being so blunt, but Ayaka’s grin doesn’t falter.

“That’s right! Our lovely prize, a giant stuffed Pikachu plushie, will be in the possession of whoever wins our contest! Now, our rules.” Hina looks over to her partner, who smoothly jumps in.

“The rules are simple: we’ll ask twelve questions of varying difficulties. Each of our contestants have a different color based on the seat they sit in, red or blue. We’ll direct our questions to either color. For example, if we ask Blue what Red’s favorite color is, Blue will write their guess on their board, while Red writes the correct answer on theirs. You’ll have thirty seconds to answer the question. Everybody got it?” She looks back at the contestants, who all nod back at her.

“Then let’s get started!” smiles Hina. “First question: what is Blue’s favorite food?”

Okay, blue, that’s Hanta. Denki looks down at his whiteboard, thinking. The first two things that pop to mind are oranges and soy bean flavored food. But which does he like better? Can he write down both? Is that allowed?

“Ten seconds!” Yumi calls. Ok, no time to agonize over it. Denki quickly scribbles ‘soy bean flavored stuff’ down. Hanta drinks soy bean milk all the time and hardly ever steals Denki’s orange juice, unlike SOME people who shall remain unnamed (cough *mina* cough cough). “Time’s up! Please flip your boards around to show the audience!”

Denki cranes neck to see what Hanta wrote. “Hey, we wrote the same answer word for word,” he says, grinning at Hanta. “High five!”

“Looks like everybody got this question right! Congratulations!” says Yumi. Hina makes a show of adding points to a large whiteboard bearing their names. “Next question: when is Red’s birthday?”

Denki writes a neat “July 29th” on his board, smiling as he remembers the first time they told each other their birthdays. Denki had been so excited to find out that their birthdays were only a month apart.

“All right, another easy point for everybody,” cheers Hina. “Keep it up! The next question: what is Blue’s favorite hobby?”

Favorite hobby, huh? Well, they don’t really have time for any serious hobbies outside of hero-ing, but Denki remembers oohing and aahing with Mina and Eijirou over the beautifully hand-woven rugs and tapestries all over Hanta’s room. His family owns a crafts shop, and Hanta had gotten into weaving that way, saying it was fun playing with the patterns he could create and good stress relief as well. So, weaving then.

“Let’s check out your answers,” Yumi says, calling the time. “Hm, looks like Yui and Haruto are the only ones missing this question.” Yui, sitting in the blue seat, frowns at her boyfriend for getting it wrong, but softens when he murmurs something back.

“I’m surprised you remember I like to weave,” Hanta says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Denki snorts. “Your room is covered in the stuff. It’s kinda hard to forget.”

The next few questions go by without a hitch for Denki and Hanta. “Hey, we’re doing pretty good,” Hanta says. “We’re the only ones who have a perfect score right now.”

“Heck yeah, that Pikachu’s gonna be mine,” grins Denki. He’s honestly kind of surprised that they were the ones with the perfect streak, even though they weren’t even dating. But he can’t deny the burst of satisfaction that comes with getting each question right, and further cementing their brohood.

“Okay, we’re getting into the last few questions now. Who was Red’s first kiss?” Hina asks deviously.

Aw, shucks, this might actually throw their score off. Denki’s not sure if he’s ever told Hanta who his first kiss was since the guy wasn’t really anybody special. Actually, Denki kinda feels bad for forgetting the dude’s name as he scribbles down “a boy in middle school.” When the timer runs out, Hanta’s board only has a question mark on it, and he smiles sheepishly at Denki.

“Sorry for not knowing,” he says.

“Nah, dude, you couldn’t have known since I never told you,” Denki says, brushing it off. “But, hey, we still have the lead!” he continues, beaming. Hanta returns his smile with a wider one. Honestly, Denki could get drunk off Hanta’s smile, sweet and goofy and always there, like the way All Might’s always smiling, but softer and infinitely cuter.

Get a grip, Denki, he scolds himself. He’s definitely going to notice if you keep staring at him. So he looks towards the two hosts and gets ready to answer the next question.

“What is Red’s weirdest fear?”

Huh. It would be an easy point if the question were biggest fear since it’s common knowledge that Denki hates spiders as much as Katsuki loves swearing, but weirdest fear? Denki has lots of fears, ranging from insects to angry pomeranians (thanks katsuki) to forgetting his homework to Midoriya with no sleep (you’d understand if you saw it). And it has to be one that Hanta knows, so what about...sand foxes.

Okay, listen, Denki knows next to nothing about sand foxes, but he does know that their faces are NOT NATURAL and CREEP HIM OUT, so DON’T laugh at him. Seriously, the first Denki saw one, he couldn’t stop thinking about that face for hours. It still haunts him to this day. And it's definitely a weird fear that Denki complains to Hanta about all the time.

“Alright, let’s see your answers!” Looking around, Denki sees that only he and Hanta got this question.

“Dude, we’re totally gonna win,” Denki whisper-shouts excitedly, leaning into the table. “Look at how far we are compared to everyone else!”

It comes as no surprise, then, that they do end up winning. The contestants line up in front of tables. “Hey, that was a great game! In third place, unfortunately, is Yui and Haruto, with six points.” Kinda strange, that the couple has been together for over a year and they have the lowest score, Denki muses. Meh. Worked out in his favor. “Second place, we have Sora and Ayaka, with eight points. And finally, our winners, Denki and Hanta, with eleven points!”

Denki whoops, turning to give Hanta a high five. The other two couples walk off the stage while Yumi and Hina hand over their prize. “I know this Pikachu is huge and kind of hard to carry, so you can leave it here until you’re ready to leave,” Hina tells them.

“Promise we won’t let anyone steal it,” Yumi adds, winking.

“Nah, I think we have to go now,” Hanta says, shaking his head. They say goodbye to the two ladies and rejoin their waiting friends, carrying the heavier-than-expected plush between them.

“Bro, it’s even bigger up close!” Eijirou raves.

“And it’s so fluffy I’m going to die!” squeals Mina. She strokes it reverently. “Denki, you have to bring it to our next Bakusquad sleepover.”

Denki laughs. “You know it!”

<>

one thing that i couldn't find a proper place to add in: i promise denki's not being inconsiderate in assuming the pikachu all for himself! they had a convo abt it while they were waiting for the contest to start

part one | part three

[starlight-and-seafire]

As a personal challenge to myself, and because I’m pretty fond of writing about these two dorks in love, I wanted to see if I could complete all the available Damerey Daily prompts.

And, as of a few hours ago, they are all complete (and one prompt got two fics because I had two different ideas, and one prompt I did twice because I forgot I did the first one. Oops.)

All together, it’s 19,719 words over 93 separate works. Thank you to everyone who read, hit that kudos button, and commented!

The full list with links to the drabbles or ficlets, all relatively short with a few exceptions, are available below!

(Anything with three *** at the end are rated M or E)

January

Unspin the laws

No, his smile isn’t much like a skeleton at all.

Um… I’m gonna need vodka in a water glass, with ice, and I’m gonna be ordering ‘water’ from you all night long so… one… ‘water,’ please.

I write mostly on hotel paper, knowing that my thoughts will never leave this room.

You are the best thing that’s ever been mine.

Say that you’ll hold me forever; say that the wind won’t change on us.

I guess I kind of hate most things. But I never really seemed to hate you. So I want to spend the rest of my life with you, is that cool?

What’s that? In the distance? Such a ghostly glow.

I know.

Anywhere you go, let me go too. Love me: that’s all I ask of you.

“That’s right! It was a twist!” “No, it was a lie. A lie is not a twist.”

Sometimes a feeling is all we humans have to go on.

Everything seems simple until you think about it. Why is love intensified by absence?

There are so many lives I want to share with you. I will never be complete until… I do.

There will be boys who will tell you you’re beautiful, but only a few will see you.

Thinking that you can’t protect the ones you love, you have to hope they’re smart enough to save themselves.

Live with me and be my love.

Silence is a protective coating over pain.

He looked at you like you were the brightest planet in the galaxy.

And all the constellations shine down for us to see. Fic 1  / Fic 2

They are the hunters, we are the foxes (and we run). ***

It well may be that in a difficult hour… I might be driven to sell your love for peace… or trade the memory of this night for food… It may well be – I do not think I would.

And mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.

As you wish.

I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.

“Sir? I’d like you to take the helm, please. I need this man to tear all my clothes off.” “Work, work, work!” ***

‘Cause we got the fire, and we’re burning one hell of a something.

Take this sinking boat and point it home.

Most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling, the rest of my whole life, the way I feel when I’m with you.

So this is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause.

I did not make it out unscathed! I am extremely scathed!

February

And this all started as your standard ‘who would survive the zombie apocalypse’ debate.

Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

We sow our truth, wait patiently.

Sweet creature, had another talk about where it’s going wrong.

I know that a life without love is no life at all. ***

They’re fascinating. It’s like being inside a dream or something. There’s truth but no logic.

You know, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually checked out that snow globe museum that you recommended, and it was pretty awesome, I have to say. I mean, I did get in trouble for shaking one.

Is this horny crying?? ***

Do or do not, there is no try.

I wish I were a girl again, half-savage and hardy, and free.

Just when I think I’m out, those cheeks pull me right back in. ***

When I was growing up I didn’t have a normal mom and dad or a regular family like everybody else, and I always knew that something was missing. But now I’m standing here today knowing that I have everything I’m ever going to need. You are my family.

Make the baby do the magic hand thing! C'mon, baby, do the magic hand thing!

I’ve been thinking. What if I decided to go flying around the galaxy with some scoundrel?

This bridge will only take you halfway there.

Great, I’d like your $8-est bottle of wine, please.

Just remember, every time you look up at the moon, I, too, will be looking at a moon. Not the same moon, obviously, That’s impossible.

I keep meeting all the right people–at all the wrong times.

I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you–especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame.

Never repent of your own goodness, child. To stay true in the face of evil is a feat of great strength. Fic 1 / Fic 2

He saved me in every way that a person can be saved.

I lost so much of the world’s beauty, as if I were watching every shining gift on its branch with one eye. Because I was hungry. Because I was waiting to eat, a self crawling about the world in search of small things.

She had fallen in love with him twice. She loved him now with both loves, so overpowering it was almost unbearable.

Make ten men feel like a hundred.

the long syntax of las montañas that lined his village, the rhyme of sol with his soul—

“You’ve got this. You could debate the entire Senate in your sleep.” “I have!” “I know you have. We share a bed. It’s been hell.”

[Kylo Ren], Good to see you. But if you’re here, who’s guarding Hades?

I cannot make speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. ***

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

March

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

It’s not about who you know. Enlightenment comes from within. [Luke Skywalker] texted me that.

This is not yours to fix alone. You act like you’re all alone out there in the world, but you’re not. You’re not alone.

“But what if you met the right man, who worshipped and adored you? Who’d do anything for you? Who’d be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?” “I’d pity him.”

“You Rebel scum!!” [Han]:“…Scum?”

I bet I’ll never appear in a dream or a summer dress or next door. Displaying on one hand my prowess, the other my difficultness, I bet there will be just enough pain to keep me alive, long enough for the moon to be mine.

“Hate that nickname. Addicted to lemon bars. I’m in!”

Laugh it up, fuzzball.

I will love you until there is no till. / Till I die.

“The first time we met we hated each other.” “You didn’t hate me, I hated you. And the second time we met, you didn’t even remember me.” “I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends.” “We were friends for a long time.” “And then we weren’t.” “And then we fell in love.” “Three months later we got married.” “It only took three months.” “Twelve years and three months.”

You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go.

If you live to be a hundred, I hope I live to be a hundred minus one day, so that I never have to live a day without you.

Just as the whale, stuck in its baleen grin, climbs up out of the depths.

This is my boyfriend [Poe], and this is [Poe’s] boyfriend [NAME]. [Poe] is gay but he’s straight for me and he’s gay for [NAME] and [NAME] really gay for [Poe]. And I [love/]hate [NAME].

“I’m still mad at you, but I need to prioritize my hate right now. It goes [him/them/]her, cooked green peppers, and then back to you.”

She’s our friend, and she’s crazy!

If you’re ever lucky enough to find true love, you fight for it every day

Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder.“

“She’s at that age where she only has one thing on her mind.” “Boys?” “Homicide.”

Does [he/]she know that you told me you’d hold me until you died–and you’re still alive?

There is nothing more terrifying than the absoluteness of one who believes he’s right.

Our fates are sealed. But I think we have one move left: We can try.

The world is too quiet without you nearby.

“Why has the car stopped?” “It’s frightened.”

I am totally butt crazy in love with [Name]!!!

Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So, today is my new favorite day.

What you did was impulsive, capricious and melodramatic, but it was also wrong.

But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all? ***

I, myself, am strange and unusual.

We have no plan. No one’s coming to save us. So… I’m going to do it.

[purrfectstrangers]

The Crimson Emperor

Loud.

That was the only way to describe the throne room. It was loud.

Gold pillars upheld a gold celling that gold chandeliers hung from. It glittered and glowed to a blinding degree, only cut off by banners of a pink Peixes symbol that miscellaneously decorated the walls. Red carpets covered the white tiled floors, providing the only real color variation in the room.

Karkat had to squint as he was dragged in. The room seemed to be made out of pure pride and ego, like a neon sign loudly declaring "I am here, look at me, I am the center of your world". Karkat's eyes didn't have time to adjust before he was forced to his knees by the meaty hands on his shoulders. His head was forced up so he could stare at the center of it all. A big, garish, bedazzled throne, decked out in all matter of gems and designs, that currently seated Her Imperious Condescension.

If the room was loud, The Condesce was big.

The chair, more than big enough to hold three people, barely managed to fit her titanic ass. The Empress' royal attire wasn't fairing much better, stretched thinly across her breasts as it was. It resisted tearing in a way only latex could, highlighting every detail. Though it honestly seemed as if one movement too quick could rip it open. Not that Condy seemed to mind, the suit seemed tailor built to allow any troll to admire her at any time. It's not like she was hard to spot, she looked at least twelve feet tall, minus the hair and horns.

Condy hadn't even bothered to look up from her shell phone, she was reclined back into her seat like it was a couch. She seemed used to seeing prisoners brought before her, and Karkat could guess why. You didn't get a figure like that without a lot of meat in your diet. "Whale, buoys, what did you bring me? A small shrimp snack, a quick fuck, or a nice, big..." Condy stopped and did a double take as her eyes trailed down to Karkat. She did an honest double take, recognition and suprise crossing her features. Karkat really hoped it was the defiance in his eyes, like some kind of internal fire that intrigued her, but her reemerging smirk killed any chance of that. 

"...Buffet." Her shell phone snapped shut, a smug grin crossed her features as she stood up. Her hips bounced and swayed with every step, her strut was designed for that. It was hypnotizing, intoxicating even, to look at. "Whale, whale, what do we have here?" Even as Karkat was forced to stand, he barely came up to her thighs. The Condesce still had to bend over to speak to him. "Never thought I'd see a mutie like you again."

Karkat glared up at her. "ARE YOU DONE BEING NAUSEATINGLY SMUG? BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT GOOD AT IT. I HAD TO PUT UP WITH SERKET FOR MOST OF MY LIFE, I CAN HANDLE A LITTLE ATTITUDE FROM YOU." Condy gasped in mock admonishment. "Why, Mutie. You've got some mouth on you. Judging from the last crabby shrimp I had to deal with, I was expecting some manners." Karkat's scowl tightened. "JUDGING FROM YOUR DECENDANT, I WAS EXPECTING YOU TO HAVE A PERSONALITY. YET, HERE YOU ARE, STUFFING YOURSELF ON PRISONERS TO SATIATE YOUR EGO, ALL WHILE WEARING THE TIGHTEST CLOTHES YOU CAN FIND IN THE HOPES THAT SOME SAD SAP WILL JACK OFF TO YOU. I'M UNIMPRESSED."

Condy cackled. "Oh, you poor little guppy. You have no idea what you're getting into do you?" Condy snapped her fingers. Quickly, the guards unlocked Karkat's cuffs, shoving him forward into Condy's arms before hustling off. The Empress simply hummed merrily as she lifted the troll up like a feather, the lift killing any rant he could start. "You've got such a creative mouth on you," she remarked, toying with his cheek, "I'll enjoy hearing you use it... after a break you."

Karkat sputtered. "WHA- BREAK ME! YOU COULDN'T BREAK A FUCKING PAPER BAG WITHOUT IT BEING SOFTENED UP FOR YOU FIRST. YOU'D BE LUCKY TO- AAaaaa-" Karkat's rant was cut off as Condy groped his ass, bedazzled claws scrapping against tight denim. "And you've got such a dumptruck on you too. Almost don't know which hole to break first. You a pred too, shrimp?" Karkat just scowled. "SOME OF US HAVE TO HUNT FOR OUR FOOD, BELIEVE IT OR NOT. IT'S ACTUALLY QUITE EXHILARATING, YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME." 

Condy lazily fell back into her throne, squishing her ass and jiggling her hips in one swoop. Karkat was preached on her lap, cradled like a baby. His exasperated expression told her exactly what he thought of that and she was loving it. "Between you and me, crabby, I'd love too. You should tell me more aboat it when you're... broken in." Condy snapped her fingers again, and a floating camera emerged from the floor, hovering around the duo. "For now, just be a good guppy and help me put on a show."

Televisions all across the Empire flickered, billions of shows and broadcasts were cut off. The Alternian Empire leaned forward eagerly. It was time for one of those very special broadcasts. "Buoys and gills, lend me your eyes." Condy said smugly, wrapping her claws around Karkat's cheeks. "We've got a very special toy joining us tonight." Karkat scowled and shoved her hand away, much to her amusement. "He's still got an attitude. Place your bets. How long will it last?" If the Condesce was amused, Karkat was equally unamused. "ARE YOU GOING TO START OR WHAT? CONTRARY TO WHAT YOU THINK, THE AUDIENCE ISN'T HERE TO WATCH YOU TALK." 

Condy smirked. "I'm gonna enjoy making you scream." Something writhed beneath Karkat's ass, something that stretched the latex to its breaking point. For a moment, Karkat almost looked nervous. "Yeah, there it is. You're a shrimp under that scowl, aren't ya Mutie?" Karkat tried to look eyes with her again, but she clearly wasn't buying it. "Don't worry, it'll only hurt a lot." 

The tip of a pink bulge creeped onto his lap, staining his jeans as it began to slink around his waist. Condy let out a low chuckle, sadistically showing her prey what she'll be ruining them with for the next few hours. "How big do your prey get, guppy?" Condy asked smugly. "Cause this? This is a solid ten feet." Condy stopped admiring her own bulge to drink in Karkat's expression. But... he wasn't scared. He didn't look unnerved, intimidated, or even suprised. Hell, he didn't even look mad.

He looked... unimpressed.

"...TEN FEET?" 

"That's what I said. Suprised?" 

Karkat blinked and shifted awkwardly.

"I MEAN, I GUESS. IT'S JUST... SHOULDN'T IT BE A LITTLE.... BIGGER?" Condy looked confused for a second, before nearly doubling over in laughter. "Bigger? Beach, any bigger and I'd pop you with it." She leaned in, talking down to him like a child. "What's the word on the street? 11? 13? What were you expectin?" Karkat just raised an eyebrow. "PRETTY SURE YOU'RE FUCKING WITH ME BUT... ALRIGHT." Karkat casually unwrapped himself, shaking some pink slime off himself as he got up. He took a few steps back away from the throne.

"AT LEAST BIGGER THAN THIS."

Karkat unzipped his jeans and his bulge fell out with a thunk. The rest unsheathed slowly to reveal at least 15 feet of twisting, writhing, dripping meat. With a base that nearly encompassed his thighs, it was a miracle Karkat could even stand. 

The Condesce's silence could be heard around the world.

Her shocked awe was shared by the world. All anyone could was stare with mouths agape at the sheer girth of it. Karkat grinned. "YOU WERE SAYING?" Condy stammered. "I-Whale... uh..." The tip of Karkat's bulge jutted into her face, instantly flooding her nostrils with a musky, sweaty scent. "NO NO, GO ON. LET'S HERE IT. WHAT WERE YOU SAYING?" The Condescension took a deep, steadying breath. "I was sayin, uh..." A facsimile of her earlier smug demeanor returned, back it rang a lot more hollow. "I was saying, get that little thing over here." 

Karkat snorted, bemused. "GLADLY." The dripping red tentacle wrapped around her leg, pulling her off the throne with ease. Karkat loomed over her, camera hoovering over his shoulder. Even on the ground, Condy still tried to look smug. "Where you gonna put it, guppy?" Her eyes flickered between Karkat and the bulge. "Doesn't matter. I can handle it either way." Karkat just kneeled down, pulling her pants down to her ankles. It took some harsh tugging given how tightly her ass was wrapped in it. "I HOPE SO. I PLAN ON FITTING IT ALL IN." 

Condy's fins flared, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks.

"Why... Mutie..." 

"KARKAT. MY NAME IS KARKAT."

Karkat positioned himself over her, his hands wrapped around her arms as best as he could.

"HOW ABOUT YOU PRACTICE IT A LITTLE? BECAUSE I'M GOING TO MAKE YOU SCREAM IT."

Condy gasped wordlessly as Karkat's tip penetrated her nook. "I think, aha..." Condy bit her lip as Karkat burrowed into her, every little thrust shaking her body. "I think I hit the jackpot." Karkat grunted as he thrust in again, her abdomin already bulging. "I THINK I'M HITTING YOUR SWEET SPOT."  More accurately, he was hitting every spot. Condy moaned again. "Cod, feels like I'm sucking in a whole troll. Just a lot more... squirmy."

Karkat smirked. "LIKE YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO DO TO ME?" Karkat pulled his sweater over his head, letting his glistening, sweaty chest free as he tossed the black cloth aside. The Empress licked her lips as she admired the view. "Like I might still do to you, Crab Kat." Karkat thrust in deeper, cutting Condy off as she stifled a grunt. "TRY IT, APPETIZER. WHEN I'M DONE, YOU'LL BE BEGGING FOR ME TO EAT YOU." Condy's claws wrapped around Karkat's shoulders. "Promise?" Karkat gave her a slow once over. 

"PROMISE."

That's when the niceties stopped.

The challenge was voiced, the gauntlet was thrown, and Karkat was done playing nice. "YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU JUST ASKED FOR." Karkat pulled back slowly. Dragging himself out inch by inch. Once he posed, he trust in.

One. Condy grunted, her abdomen bulged, her breasts jiggled like cheap balloons to a degree they shouldn't have been able too. 

Two. Condy gasped. Her legs spread. Her shirt creaked in protest.

Three. Condy screamed. Her legs wrapped around Karkat instinctively. Her latex top ripped and her womb bulged.

Karkat was only halfway in.

Past that point he sped up. Moving less like a sledgehammer and more like a jackhammer. Wet slapping sounds filled the air as Condy's mind raced. His sweaty scent was filling her nostrils, invading her mind. "SO FAR, YOU'RE REALLY NOT IMPRESSING ME." He barely sounded winded. "COMPARED TO OTHER PEOPLE I'VE MANAGED TO BREAK, I MEAN." Condy's ego roared at that, but was quickly shut up as another thrust forced a moan out of her. 

"I MEAN, FIRST THERE WAS NEPETA. SHE HAD WANTED ME FOR SWEEPS, SO I FINALLY ROLLED OVER AND GAVE HER WHAT SHE WANTED."

Karkat slid deeper still, and Condy's arms briefly spasmed.

"SHE LASTED THREE HOURS."

Karkat's grip tightened. Her mind fogged.

"THEN THERE WAS TEREZI. THAT WAS MORE OF A ONE NIGHT STAND. SHE WAS AT MY HIVE AND WE FIGURED, WHY NOT?"

Karkat growled. Condy's legs spasmed. She didn't notice either.

"SHE LASTED AN ENTIRE DAY."

She could smell him, his breath, his sweat. His voice drowned out her own.

"LAST ONE I HAD WAS VRISKA. SHE DARED ME THAT I COULDN'T BREAK HER. SHE WAS REAL SMUG ABOUT IT."

Her heartbeat pounded, roared in her chest. Despite that, she couldn't even hear it over his. She soundlessly screamed his name.

"SHE ONLY LASTED TEN MINUTES."

Karkat slid in with a pop, soon followed by his bulge blasting forth gallons of genetic material. Condy's gut ballooned, bloating out like a used condom. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth gapped open, her mind filled with static. As Her Imperious Condescension lay limp on the ground, all she could think about was Karkat Vantas.

"...STILL A LOT LONGER THAN YOU LASTED." Karkat got up, sheathing his bulge and pulling his jeans back up. He turned to the camera and halfheartedly gestured at the broken Empress. "IF ANY OF YOU ARE STILL WONDERING, THIS ISN'T HER SHOW ANYMORE. IT'S HARD FOR A STUFFED FISH TO RUN AN EMPIRE."

Condy laughed deliriously as she twitched on the ground. "Crab... kat. Crabby crabby kat. Karkat...." Karkat walked over to her, crouching down by her head. "Kat... oh, Karkat, yes.... oh...." He waved his hand in front of her face. It took a few seconds for her to follow it. "Yes... Karkat... darling... ?" 

"YOU'RE ON THE MENU. GET UP." Karkat stepped over her, taking his seat on the throne. Condy slowly got to her feet, swaying back and forth with each step. "A... meal... I've always wanted to be your... meal...." She ripped off what little was left of her shirt and quickly kicked away her pants to join them. She stood bare before him, covered only in her own sweat and material. Karkat put out his hand. "CROWN." 

The Imperial Crown. A symbol of unwavering power. Handed off to an off spectrum mutant without a single thought. Karkat rested the crown on top of his head, only pausing to shake some of her sweat off first. Condy bent over before him, showing off her gloriously thick ass. "If you want to take me... one more time..." Karkat raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I HAVE THREE BETTER ONES THAN YOU ALREADY. BESIDES, I'M HUNGRY." Condy fell forward onto her bloated belly, sticking her feet up into the air.

Karkat grabbed her ankles and gave one of her feet a tentative lick. He smacked his lips, his default, unimpressed scowl still crossing his face. "...GOOD ENOUGH." Karkat stuck the feet in his mouth, savoring the rich, salty taste of the former Empress. She tasted like a well cooked beef and was likely about as juicy. Still, this was hardly the epicenter of her flavor. Her ass on the other hand.

Karkat tilted his head back and swallowed, sucking in her legs like noodles to get the the juicy core of his meal. His stomachs growling was soon satiated, as it only took three gulps for her feet to bulge out his gut. Karkat tilted his head back forward, letting her ass rest on his his face and her bulgle hang loose on his chin. The Condesce, in the meantime, was just muttering his name with a far off expression, enjoying every moment of her devourment. Karkat's jaw clicked as it unhinged, forcing her ass in between his jaws one labored gulp at a time. 

Condy gasped as her master's tongue slathered all over her ruined nook and writhing bulge, her bulge wrapping itself around his tongue. Karkat just moaned in appreciation. Her rich, juicy flavor flooded his tastebuds and her succulent scent only enhanced the experience. He could've sat their for hours, exploring every inch of her ass with his tongue, but his stomach growled demandingly.

Her ass stretched his ribcage to their limits as his lips crept around her cum fillied belly. It sloshed and swayed with every gulp. With how badly he ruined her entrance, Karkat was worried one grip too tight would squeeze all the material out of her. "Oh, cod... you're so warm... so tight..." Condy twitched and moaned as his guts pulsated around her. "Eat me up.... come on, Karkat.... I'm yours..." Her breasts jiggled was one more swallow pressed her guts into his throat. Her hair fell into his eyes before brushed it away. Two big, juicy melons stood between him and his meal.

Glk!

Condy moan breathlessly in time with each gulp. Each nibble kneaded her flesh, each lick memorized her taste, each swallow sealed her fate. It wasn't long until her breasts were just two lumps in Karkat's throat. "I love you... so much... Thank you... for having me, Karkat." One more gulp sent her head down his throat and Karkat quickly slurped down her hair and horns like noodles.

A loud, crass belch rang out around the throne room. Karkat's gut gurgled and groaned as he rubbed it absent mindedly. "OH GOD..." He belched again, spraying put excess spit. "YOU'RE SO FUCKING FILLING." His stomach churned happily in agreement. Karkat looked at the camera. "THERE'RE GOING TO BE A FEW CHANGES AROUND HERE. BUT FIRST, I'M GOING TO SLEEP HER OFF." Karkat snapped his fingers and the camera disappeared.

~

Four days later. Four days later and she was still alive. His gut gurgled and churned around her softened for form and all she did was moan. She worshipped him, muttured his praises with her final shaky breaths. She didn't have much longer.

As she melted, Karkat sat back in his throne. His ever loyal servants -- Terezi, Nepeta, and Vriska -- messaged his grumbling gut and worshipped his body as he rested his head on his fist. His new crown showed off his symbol proudly and the drapes flaunted his royal crimson color.

Alternia would reach a new age of prosperity under The Crimson Emperor.

------------

AAAAAAAH I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS AMAZING STORY

God I will always swoon for Karkat. Call me the most loyal subject, holy shit. xwx

I wish I could properly credit you, but I really reeeeally appreciate this ;u;

[fics-of-my-mind]

Trust - Chapter III.

Where are you now?

home

LA

Isn't it like 4 AM there?

yeah...

Are you OK?

just stressed a bit I guess

You said you needed to vent?

I did

can I call you?

Warnings: mature content, BDSM content Pairing: Nick Jonas / Other Female Character This fanfiction can also be found on Wattpad by fnntth

I don’t own Nick Jonas or any other recognizable characters. This fanfiction is completely fictional, its only purpose is entertainment.

Chapter III. - It’s four AM and I think I might lose it

Nick’s texts are bold

Milla’s texts are italic

The whole 'let's be venting buddies' idea seemed nice, up until the point when ten minutes later I realized, he didn't give me his number. I felt disappointed and a little bit mad at myself. Now I had no real proof that my mind wasn't playing wicked games with me and I, in fact spent the night running around in Barcelona with Nick Jonas himself.

I didn't tell the girls where I've been when Vanda opened the door with her tired eyes at 6:23 in the morning, not wanting to seem crazy. They've both known about my fangirling habits, but there was no point of telling them something that even I wasn't sure really happened. I just fell into my bed and slept until noon.

After returning home, I couldn't find my place. I went back to work, met up with friends, went shopping and even went for lunch with my family, but something was missing. It felt stupid – missing something that I've only had for like seven hours tops.

I tried doing something useful, that could actually have a good effect on my non-existent love life, so I downloaded Tinder. Then, after a day I deleted it. Honestly, I was more than fed up with our generation's dating culture. I couldn't embarrass myself to meet up with complete strangers and have sex – I kind of envied the people who could do it. I guess, it wasn't coded into me.

I was almost 25 years old, and I've never had a proper boyfriend. I blamed the series I watched growing up for my high expectations in men. But really, was it too much to ask to be taken out for a drink or dinner before having a one night stand? I would've had no problem with that, or at least I don't think so. But when a guy messages you on Tinder and his second sentence to you is 'wanna have sex', it kind of just kills the mood for me.

I've watched some of the videos I made during the concert, and every time I could feel my stomach clench. Even if we take my night with Nick out of the equation, it was still one of the best nights of my live, and definitely one of my best concerts. It was my teenage dream come true to watch them perform.

It took me two weeks to get back to normal. By then, my mind was mostly focused on my friends, my job, my colleagues, whom I adored and not on the lack of reaching out from Nick. I kind of let it go – I only thought about him on sleepless nights. I had much more on my mind, with the coronavirus setting its foot in Hungary, and Amalia being in quarantine for it.

In early March, they closed our office and we were forced to work from home, which I handled pretty badly. I loved being home and I loved being alone, appreciating the time with myself. But normally, I had people around me during the day, I was going somewhere, not just sitting from the couch to the dining table, then back to the couch.

At least I had my dog, Milo with me to help me get through the quarantine period. My daily routine consisted of walking him three times and going to the grocery store every few days. That's all, otherwise I was completely alone. I hated it, and I was feeling so bad, that I've had at least one mental breakdown a day.

That's when it happened. In the middle of a Wednesday, just as I was scrolling through my emails on the company laptop, my phone went off.

so, I kind of need to vent...

It was all the message said, yet I knew who it was from. My stomach clenched instantly, and I could feel my heart beating against my chest really hard. Here it was, my proof that I wasn't just hallucinating that night. I took my phone into my hands and typed my reply.

Well, hello to you too, Mr

hi. :)

Hi :) :)

sorry I've been MIA

just needed to get back to the states

do a few interviews

I smiled softly. I had no idea why he felt the need to apologize. He was busy, he was important, he was famous. I knew well that he had responsibilities. He was also married, so he also had a wife to take care of.

It's OK.

Where are you now?

home

LA

Isn't it like 4 AM there?

yeah...

Are you OK?

just stressed a bit I guess

You said you needed to vent?

I did

can I call you?

I quickly checked my Outlook calendar. Nothing else was in it for the rest of the day, so as long as my coworkers didn't want to chit chat on a Teams call, I was okay to talk to Nick. More than okay, in fact, I wanted to hear his voice.

Yes.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for my phone to ring, startling me, even though I've expected the call. My hand was shaking as I reached to my iPhone, and even though it was a reaction of a twelve-year-old fangirl, I couldn't calm myself.

'Hey.'

'Hey you,' I heard his deep voice, and suddenly all my nerves were gone. He once again had the same effect on me, as back in Barcelona, instantly calming me. I couldn't quite place this.

'So, what's up?' I asked, clearing my troath.

'Are you at work?' he asked, probably checking to see if anyone could hear me.

'Yes and no,' I said. 'Since Monday, we are forced to work from home. Sooo... I'm home.'

'Do you live alone?' It was kind of ridiculous. We've barely known each other (except for the fact that I did knew a lot about him), and the fact that he had no idea about my living situation just confirmed this. We still weren't any more than strangers, yet he was calling me from the other side of the world.

'I do. Well, I live with my dog,' I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it. 'Where are you? And what are you doing up at 4 in the morning?'

'I'm home. In the music studio.' So the walls were soundproof. Smart, if you don't want anyone to hear you talking on the phone. For example, your wife. 'Couldn't sleep.'

'Why?' I asked.

'There's just a lot on my mind, I guess,' he answered, his voice sounding really tired. I was concerned for him.

'Things like...?' I tried asking him again. There was a reason he's called me. There were things he needed to talk about and I quite enjoyed hearing him talk. His voice calmed me, and I felt much closer to him than just some fan.

'We probably have to cancel our Vegas residency due to COVID.'

'That's understandable. You shouldn't feel bad about it. You can't really control it.'

'I know,' he said, staying quiet for a few seconds. I waited for him to talk again. 'Just don't like to disappoint anyone, I guess.'

'You aren't doing this, Nick,' I said softly. 'The virus is. Fans will understand. You will make it up to them."

'Yeah, I guess you're right.'

'What else is on your mind?' There was a long pause before he spoke again.

'Have you heard Demi's new song?'

'I have,' I nodded to myself. It was quite fresh, just a few days old. 'You and her used to be friends, right?'

'She was my best friend,' he corrected. I searched my memories, I did know that they went on tour together and did Carpool Karaoke and other things together. I had no idea when that ended and why. I knew about Demi's OD, but nothing else.

The fangirl in me, who wanted to know everything desperately wanted to ask him about what happened. The person in me that was supposed to be his 'vent buddy', knew that this probably wasn't the right time to ask the questions. Luckily, this side was saner.

'But she isn't anymore,' I declared the obvious. 'And you are hurt by her video clip, where she just walks by you, right?' I asked, trying to decipher how he was feeling at the moment.

'It's not like I don't deserve it,' he said quietly. I didn't really know what to say.

'It is okay for something to hurt, even if you deserve it, you know.'

'Thank you,' he said even quieter. 'I think I needed to hear that.'

'Is there anything else that's bothering you?'

I could almost see him bite his bottom lip before answering.

'No, nothing really.' I knew he lied, but didn't press it. 'I just can't really talk with anyone else about Demi. Well, probably except Joe, but he's home with Sophie, so I didn't want to nag him.'

'Okay,' I nodded. This was weird, talking so naturally about things with him. Talking about his life, about people in his life... It was just crazy.

'How are you doing?' he asked, sounding genuinely interested in the answer.

'Fine, I guess.' I was doing just fine – minus the mental breakdowns, and the fear of this whole situation.

'Now tell me the truth,' he commanded, and my breath caught up in my throat. I wasn't surprised that he noticed my lie, I noticed his too. I was shocked that he did in fact call me out on it, in a very commanding tone. Like he expected me to tell him how I was really feeling.

'Why do you think I'm lying?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.

'You are, aren't you?' he asked. 'This venting thing can only work if we both trust each other with our problems. This has to be a two-sided thing.'

I did get where he was coming from. He had a lot to lose with trusting in me, but he did it anyway. Me telling him about my own problems meant that I also trusted him, that I also put my secrets and my fears into his hands. He wanted to be assured that he wasn't making a fatal mistake by opening up to me. Not that I had any intention of selling him out, but I understood that we were practically strangers to each other.

'I'm worried,' I said finally.

'About what?'

'This virus. About my family falling ill. About losing my job.'

'Why would you lose your job?' he asked, and it wasn't just a rhetorical question, he really did want to know about my concerns.

'I was just hired, you know. Just in the beginning of last month. Before that, I was an intern for a year, and I've worked my ass off to get a permanent position. But if thanks to the virus, the financial crisis hits and they start to fire people... I'm just worried that last one in means first one out,' I explained.

'Did your boss give you a reason to worry?' he asked.

'Not really. My boss is amazing. Really, she's more of a friend than a boss.'

'So if you two have a great relationship, and she managed to make you permanent part of her team, don't you think that she'll do everything in order to keep you?'

I stayed quiet for a minute.

'I don't like it when you are being reasonable,' I said jokingly.

'Sorry,' he chuckled. 'But really, why worry before you actually have the problem?'

'I guess, I just worry a lot about non-existent things,' I shrugged. 'It's always better to be prepared for everything.'

'Hmm, is it?' he asked, clearly amused about the things in my head. 'What else is bugging you?'

'I'm lonely,' I said quietly. I hated to admit this, because I was the person that always told everyone that I was doing more than okay on my own, and I didn't need a man to make me feel whole. Now, as I was alone in the apartment all the time, I started to realize that having some company would've been nice.

'What about your friends? Where are they?' he asked.

'Most of them went home to their families when the state of emergency hit.'

'Why don't you go home to your family then?'

'I'm kind of afraid to infect them. I mean, I'm the one living in the big city. If anyone caught the virus without noticing, it would be me. And I wouldn't feel comfortable knowing that I may give it to them,' I explained.

Nick stayed quiet for a while. My inhibitions of talking to him about my life were long gone. It kind of felt nice to say the words out loud, to share with someone that I was in fact, feeling lonely. Even if that someone was on the other side of the world.

'You don't have a significant other?' he asked eventually, as if it wasn't clear already.

'No, I don't have a boyfriend.'

'Why?' Came the next question. I bit my lip and contemplated telling him the great answer on my mind, that I was thinking for years now.

'I'm just not the type of girl that guys fall in love with.'

'You do know that's bullshit, right?' he replied, sounding irritated.

'No, Nick, really. I never had a real boyfriend, only guys that I've hooked up with, or that led me on to believe that here was something more going on, when there wasn't,' I said, and even though I didn't feel perfectly comfortable talking about my love life, or the lack of it, somehow I couldn't stop myself from speaking. 'And I got tired of that a while ago. It's still better to be alone than not being appreciated and having to make compromises.'

'What do you want from a guy? When is he worth the compromises?' he asked, and I could hear the curiosity in his voice.

'Quite honestly, if he makes an effort, he's probably worth it.'

'An effort like a big romantic gesture?'

'No,' I chuckled. 'I don't really like cheesy things. If he brings me flowers or takes me out for dinner, it's more than enough. But it's not like any of those things happened.'

'C'mon, you must've gotten flowers from guys. They must've taken you out to eat.'

'I did get flowers from guys. Just not flowers that were of any romantic origin. I got flowers for my birthday or international women's day, but that's about it. And as for dates... Nobody really ever took me out for dinner or lunch or whatever.'

'How?' he asked, sounding doubtful.

'Well, I must repulse all the men,' I laughed bitterly. Sometimes I did believe in that.

'Don't be stupid,' he said quietly.

'I'm not. I mean... Here I am, almost at 25, never been in love, never even been on a proper date. And honestly, I have no idea why it never happened, but nobody has ever asked me out,' I shrugged to myself. 'There must be something seriously wrong with me.'

Even though I tried to play it cool, these concerns were real for me. I thought about it a lot, how it has never happened. Maybe I expected too much. Maybe I wasn't pretty enough. Maybe it was written on my forehead that nobody should ever date me.

'There is nothing wrong with you, trust me,' Nick said, and there was something in his voice.

'I don't want you to feel sorry for me.'

'I don't, Milla, I just can't quite comprehend how you've never had a boyfriend,' he explained. 'You're beautiful, smart, hard-working. You care about people. You're witty and funny, and I've only talked to you twice in my life and I already know this.'

'C'mon, Nick,' I could feel myself blush. 'You're just saying those things to make me feel better.'

'I'm really not. I just don't like that you think so low about yourself, like you think something is wrong with you.'

'But what if there is?' I asked, opening up about one of my biggest concerns. 'What if I expect more than I deserve?'

'Trust me, wanting to get flowers and being taken out on a date, aren't that huge, earth-shattering things.'

'Well, I'm still alone, aren't I? Maybe I scare people.'

'Or maybe,' he started about a deep sigh. 'People around you don't deserve you and they know it.'

I stayed quiet for a bit, biting my lip again. After some time I sighed, not finding the energy to fight with him about this anymore.

'Damn you for always knowing what to say.'

[terri-does-gods-work]

Three, Two, One

[This is a tyrus oneshot based loosely on whatever information @joshua-rush has given us on 3x21]

Word count: 2190

“Andi, the streamers are amazing as they are. Relax for a bit,” shouted Bex to Andi, who was precariously standing on Cece’s railing, hanging up decorations for the New Year’s party that night.

“Says you!” Andi shouted back, demounting the railing. “Buffy, Cyrus, TJ, and Kira are coming at 10, and it’s already 9!”

“Wait,” Bex put down her magazine and looked at Andi, “Kira’s coming? I thought you guys hated her,”

“We haven’t invited her but I’m pretty sure she’ll end up coming along with TJ.”

“But I thought TJ liked Cyrus. He’s dating Kira now?”

“Mom, were you listening at all when I told you about the whole Costume Day mess?”

Bex paused for a moment, trying to muster up an excuse, “I guess, with all the wedding emotions it got lost in my brain. Sorry, kid.”

Andi’s face drooped. A wedding would’ve been nice (to say the least) after all their will-they, won’t-they drama. Something to cement it all. But, Bex and Bowie are still Bex and Bowie. Anyway, she had other things to think about. It was T-minus 54 minutes until the guests were to arrive and the house still wasn’t ready. Cece was out doing some last-minute donations she missed out on during Christmas, Andi was decorating the living room, and Bex was currently lifting herself off the couch to get more chips (for herself and the party) with Bowie.

***

T-minus 3 minutes and everything looked, as Andi said, “Just about ready,”

A playful knock came at the door. “It’s Buffy and Cyrus, I’ll get it!” Andi called to her family as she ran to the door.

“Hi, Alex, right?” said Kira, smiling, as she interlocked hands with a deadpanned TJ.

“Uh, it’s Andi, actually,” Andi’s eyebrows furrowed, “come in.”

Kira pranced into the house dragging TJ behind her. TJ could barely manage to get out a faint “Hey, Andi,” before Kira pulled him away and sat him on the couch.

“Can I get you guys anything? Chips and soda?” Andi asked, hesitantly.

“Chips would be great, thanks,” Andi started to walk to the kitchen with her hands stuck to her side, “oh, and Alex?” Andi turned around and sighed, “a diet coke for me and a sprite for TJ,”

“Actually, I’ll just have some water,” muttered TJ, as Kira shot him a glare.

“Got it,” Andi swiveled on her heel and left to the kitchen.

There was another knock at the door. “TJ, its probably Cyrus and Buffy,” Kira’s ears perked up at their names, “can you get it?” Andi called from the kitchen.

TJ began to push himself off the couch, but Kira pushed him back down, “I’ll get it,” said Kira, as she bounced to the door.

“Hey guys!” she greeted.

Buffy shoved past her pulling Cyrus along. Cyrus stopped when he saw TJ. “Buffy, he’s here. With Kira!” he whisper-shouted.

Buffy looked at the two in disgust before replying, “I’m confused, too,”

“He told me he was going to tell Kira to back off!”

Buffy shook her head and followed Cyrus into the kitchen. Neither dared to look at TJ.

“Andi, what is Kira doing here?” interrogated Buffy, her eyes wide,

“I don’t know, she just showed up with TJ. I couldn’t exactly make her leave,”

“Of course, you can. Follow me,” Buffy retorted as she marched into the living room, “Kira, can I talk to you outside?”

Kira frowned suspiciously at Buffy, following her out to the porch.

***

“What are you doing here?” Buffy started, “You’re not friends with any of us,”

“Where TJ goes, I go,” replied Kira.

“Was that TJ’s choice or was it just what you told him?”

“What does it matter?”

“TJ’s a nice guy, Kira. And he can make his own decisions. He doesn’t need some random girl with a terrible attitude to make them for him,”

“Did you just call TJ a ‘nice guy’? Wow, Buffy, you’ve gone soft,”

“Look, Kira, I’m trying to be reasonable but you’re testing my patience. Cyrus is an incredible person and whatever you said to TJ before Costume Day basically destroyed their friendship,”

“Friendship? Just friends? Because it seemed like more than that to me. Is that really what you want for Cyrus?”

The argument falls silent. Buffy’s mouth is slightly agape. “You need to leave. Right now,”

“Fine. But just so you know, TJ’s with me now. Not Cyrus, me,” Kira huffed before walking out of the compound, slamming the gate shut behind her.

***

“What do you think Buffy’s going to tell Kira?” asked Cyrus, intermittently peeking through the kitchen door to check on TJ.

“She’ll probably get rid of her somehow. I wouldn’t question it too much,” Andi trailed off when she noticed Cyrus’ gaze fixed on TJ, who was currently sitting on the couch fiddling with his phone case, “why don’t you go talk to him?” she questioned.

“And say what? We haven’t spoken since he apologised for the costume, and I don’t know how to talk to him after what he told Buffy and me,”

“About that, what happened? You guys never told me,”

“It isn’t really our story to tell. He’ll tell you when he’s ready. But since he said that, I figured he’d break up with Kira. He even told me he would, but I guess Kira’s still got him wrapped around her finger,”

“I’m sure he has a good reason. I didn’t like TJ for a long time, but I’ve seen the way he acts around you. Something lights up in him, Cy. He makes you happy, and I think you make him happy, too,”

“You really think so?”

“I do,”

Andi was interrupted by Buffy storming back into the house. She sat down next to TJ, silent.

“From the lack of blood on your clothes, I take it you didn’t kill Kira?” TJ remarked.

“I was close, but no. She did leave, though,”

TJ breathed a sigh of relief, prompting Buffy to urge him to talk to Cyrus, “I know you like him,” she gestured towards the kitchen, where Cyrus and Andi were still peering at the other boy, “you should talk to him,”

“You’re right, Driscoll. For once, I actually mean it,” TJ stood up halfway but sat back down, “But I have no idea what to say,”

“Just say ‘hi’ and see what happens. You two have never had trouble finding things to talk about before,”

“Yeah, turns out, we’re a lot alike,”

TJ nodded and stood up all the way. He took a deep breath and made his way to the kitchen. Andi smirked and speed walked into the living room to sit next to Buffy.

***

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” TJ asked, twiddling his thumbs, barely looking at Cyrus.

“I was actually just about to ask you the same thing,” Cyrus replied, “Let’s go to Andi Shack. It’s more private than—” he looked over at Buffy and Andi, who were staring intently at the two boys, “here,”

Cyrus led TJ to the backyard and into Andi Shack. “Isn’t Andi going to kill you for being here without her permission?” TJ asked as he fumbled in the dark for a light switch.

“Not necessarily,” TJ looked up in confusion, “It depends on how this conversation goes,”

“I see,”

After carefully moving pieces of art and art materials, the two sat down on a tattered bench covered in old paint.

“So, Kira, huh?” Cyrus started.

“I know what I said, Cy, but, it’s just—”

“Complicated, I got it,” he paused, “What you told me the other day, you were being serious?”

“Of course, I was. I’d never joke about that,”

Cyrus smiled at TJ, but TJ’s face was still full of worry.

“What is it?” asked Cyrus.

TJ stared at Cyrus blankly for a few moments, “I think you’re really great, Cyrus,” his eyes shifted down to the floor, “and I,” TJ gulped.

“TJ it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to say. My parents say that’s almost as bad as bottling—”

“Can I kiss you at midnight?” TJ interrupted, causing Cyrus to go pale, his eyes wider than an owl’s.

“Can you—” Cyrus trailed off, unable to speak.

“Never mind, it was a dumb question. You probably don’t want to, anyway. I guess this conversation didn’t go as well as Andi had hoped and we’re probably dead meat,”

“Teej,” Cyrus called, as he noticed TJ getting up to leave, “you can,”

“I can?” TJ said, turning around to face Cyrus, subconscious smiles creeping onto their faces.

Cyrus simply nodded and stood up to hold the other boy’s hand, “It’s getting cold. We should go back inside,”

They switched off the light and went back into the house.

***

“Bex, Bowie! There’s less than an hour left, set the food out in the living room!” shouted Cece from the kitchen.

“Coming, I’m coming,” Bowie pulled her up off the couch and gently pushed her towards the kitchen, following not far behind.

“I think Cyrus and TJ made up,” Bex told Bowie, eyeing the boys as they entered the house.

“Why do you invest yourself in the lives of thirteen-year-olds, Rebecca?” questioned Cece, handing each one a tray stacked with sandwiches and cake.

“When were TJ and Cyrus fighting?” asked Bowie, walking out of the kitchen with his trays as well as Bex’s.

“I’m sure Andi will be glad to know I pay more attention to her rambling than her own father,” she replied, cheekily, taking the trays from Bowie and setting them down on the coffee table.

The kids immediately took notice of the food and stampeded towards the table. An assortment of compliments towards Cece’s were spoken by food-filled mouths.

***

With less than 2 minutes till the end of the year and a room full of satisfied stomachs and neighbourhood friendly music, the seven of them stood around the living room. Bowie and Bex were already standing in the corner, ready for midnight. Andi and Buffy were sitting on one side of the couch, somehow still eating the remaining chips, as they waited for the countdown. Cece was just trying not to fall asleep but gave in and went upstairs after reminding the kids (including Bex and Bowie) to clean up whatever mess they make. Cyrus was sitting next to Buffy, and TJ was sitting next to Cyrus.

The kids’ conversation was a long, muffled noise to the outside listener, but as the clock neared twelve, the chaos turned into a countdown.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four,” Cyrus and TJ turned towards each other, barely three inches apart. The rest of the room faded to a big blur. It was just the two of them and there was no going back now.

“Three, two, one.”

As the rest cheered, “Happy New Year!” TJ had his hands gripped around Cyrus’ waist, and Cyrus’ hands were entangled in the other boy’s hair. Their eyes were closed tight, lips together, indifferent to the world.

The boys pulled away at the same time, when they realised the cheering had stopped. They opened their eyes to four people staring at them in disbelief.

“They really made up, huh?” added Bowie, breaking the silence. The rest chuckled as the new year began.

***

The next morning, the four kids went to The Spoon to meet up with Jonah.

“I apparently missed a lot,” Jonah stated, watching Cyrus and TJ walk in, hand in hand.

“Not much,” Cyrus chuckled and turned to TJ, who was trying to refrain from smiling.

“Baby taters?” Amber asked, approaching the table, “and happy new year, by the way!”

“Firstly, is that even a question, and secondly, you too, Ambs,” Andi blushed.

“So, that’s baby taters and,” her expression turned grim, “TJ, Kira came by earlier asking for—”

“Hey, Kippen, you got a second?” It was Kira. Again.

TJ stood up, “Anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of them,” Amber slowly backed away.

“Okay,” Kira looked around the table, “fine. I’m sorry. What I did to you was vindictive and, if I’m being honest, I mostly did it to get back at Buffy,” she mouths ‘sorry’ to Buffy, “It was wrong. I saw TJ and thought I had a chance but then Cyrus came along, and I figured, ‘why not?’”

“You still made two people feel badly about themselves just for being who they were,” retorted Buffy.

“Sometimes there’s a nice person trying to get out. I guess I still haven’t figured out how to do that. My parents told my neighbours what I told Buffy. I didn’t realise how much that would hurt someone. I’m sorry.” She walked out of the diner without a second glance.

“Well, at least she knows how to apologise unlike some of us,” Buffy joked.

“Hey!” TJ responded, “I can say—"

“Teej,” Cyrus gestured at his hands under the table. He put up three fingers, then two, then one, and gave TJ a quick kiss on the lips before changing the conversation, “So, Andi. Amber, huh?”

[mamawolfblood]

Chap 10 If You Can't Take The Heat...

Chris: Last time on Total Drama Island… Our competitors became hunters. And the hunted. Owen’s game was way off. And when he finally caught wind of his prey, he totally blew it. And Cody made a new friend who quickly beat the crap out of him. Can anyone say medivac? In a weird and strangely watchable twist, Leshawna, Lindsay, Beth, and Heather turn their paintball guns on each other. It was a full on wrasse for dominance within the females of The Gopher Squad and the Gophers were sent to the bonfire. In the end, however, it was Cody who got the shaft. The Gophers are still the underdogs. Can they bounce back? Or is their goose finally cooked? Find out tonight on Total. Drama. Island!

Iris was sitting in the dining hall talking to Chef and Chris when the others piled in. "Hey Iris can we talk?" Duncan asked he sounds like a nervous kid. "Ha no I have a challenge to get ready for." She said geting up to join the Gophers. "You really upset her. She is only avoiding you because she wants the pain to stop. But you just won't let it go. You had a go thing set up for you bro and ya blew it. " Chris said before standing up to leave the campers to Chef.

Iris pov

Is he stupid  after stopping on my heart you now wanna be friends. No I will not let second place Courtney mess me up. I see how the boys are treating Harold. I stand up and walk over and sat by him. "Hey Harold you ok the boys seem to be all over you." I said patting his back. "Watch it princess what we do to our team is our business." Duncan jumps I laughed. "Oh yes of course it is,but do be careful what you do. You never know who might try something." I said walking away. "I dare you do something sugar tits." He said trying to hurt me. "Oh Duncan please if I wanted to do something....I would have done so already." I said before sitting down.

Chris: Today’s challenge will test your minds, your teamwork, and your skills in the kitchen! You’ll be cooking a three-course meal and serving it to me for tasting. The winners get a reward and the losers will send somebody home. Each team will appoint a head chef to create the theme of the meal and to oversee the cooking. To cook, you need imgredients. Every morning, a truck brings us food. Today’s task starts there.

Geoff became the hed Chef for the bass. I was aboutto volunteer but Heather jumps in. "Heather just remember we lose and its all on you." She glares at me. "We won't as long as everyone does as I say." She said ordering us to grab food. She wanted to make barbecue ribs, orange flombae, pineapple skewers. While in the middle of cooking Heather lost her eyebrows. While in a heated rant she ends up in a freezer. "Well will we let drama queen chill. Let's get to work on the rest of the food." Leshawna said.

Geoff: Okay. We’ve got like, three courses and six people. So everybody partner up!

DJ: I know how to make pasta sauce!

Bridgette: I know how to boil pasta!

[smack]

Harold: Me and Sadie can rock the antipasto. I’m like a black belt when it comes to cutting cheese.

Killer Bass except Harold: [laughing]

Duncan: Cheese.

Harold: What?

Sadie stifles a giggle.

Harold: What?!

Duncan: I guess that leaves you and me on dessert detail.

Courtney: Oh no. No way!

Geoff: Come on, Courtney. For the team.

[harp music]

(Confessional: Courtney)

Courtney: He’s totally unmotivated. And he never washed his hands. He’s so obnoxious. [fast forwarding] He’s completely delusional. [normal] Owning sunglasses doesn’t automatically make you cool. [fast forwarding] If you’re gonna wear sunglasses, at least get some stylish ones. He’s such a poser. [normal] People like that are so annoying. I mean, honestly, who does that? And don’t even get me started on his hair.

(confessional off)

Geoff: [sinister chuckle]

DJ: Uh, where do you want the water, Brid– Oops!

Harold: Aw! Hey! Smooth move, Dorkahontus!

Geoff: Oh, bummer! Better go change, dude!

DJ and Geoff stifled giggles.

(Confessionals Iris)

I honestly felt bad for him but he needs to suffer a bit more. He needs to be at the peak before I can proswade him. So as its always been patience is the only choice. This time I am actually looking forward to end game. *laughs*

*static*

(End of Confessionals)

After a few hours we finally finished and dad was ready for the food. Leshawna put Owen in charge of watching the food while we went out. That was the worst decision on her part.

Chris [ after chewing] : Your antipasto passed the testo. Pass the pasta, please. [chewing, slurp] On a scale of one to ten, fifteen. How will the Gophers respond?

Dad said before looking at us.

Leshawna gasps.

Owen: Oh…

Leshawna: Tell me you did not just eat that entire plate of ribs!

[door swings open]

Chris: Yeah, this looks like it’s uh, been eaten.

Owen: Not all of it. I think there’s a tiny chunk left on that… bone. Over there. Yeah, there.

Chris [after chewing]: You know what? I’ve had worse. Two points!

Owen: Yeah!

Chris: Ooh, close, Owen. But the Bass still lead fifteen to eleven. Time for dessert!

[chewing]

Chris: Ehhhh, six. The Bass have twenty-one, so the Gophers need all ten points just to tie it up. I have to say, this dessert looks like a winner.

[puff]

Leshawna: Oh, that’s not good.

Chris gags and chokes.

"DAD!" I yelled

Owen: Hang on, there! Hah! Yes! Got it! [chuckles]

Beth: Ewww.

Chris: What the heck is this?

Lindsay: It’s Heather’s recipe! [gasps] Oh, my gosh! She’s still in the fridge!

Leshawna: What? Girl was making everyone trip.

Chris: Oh, I hear that.

Owen [gasps] : Oh, the horror!

Heather: You guys are s-s-s-so dead! Is it over?

Chris: It is! The Bass win twenty-one to twelve and it’s not just ’cause I almost died. The ribs sucked, too.

Heather: Great! That’s just great! Why do we keep losing, people? And what is this? I didn’t approve this!

Beth: I-I brought it back as a souvenir. You know, from the other island.

Heather: You did what?!

"For once I agree with her. You dip shit that thing is cursed!" I grabbed her by the collar.

Chris: You mean Boney Island? The deadliest island in Muskoka? The one I specifically said not to take anything from or you’ll be cursed?

Beth: Yeah… I didn’t know! I’ll put it back!

Chris: Okay, the Killer Bass now lead with seven members to the Gophers’ soon to be six. And as promised, the winners will be enjoying a reward tonight. A five-star dinner under the stars.

Killer Bass cheer.

Courtney [laughing] : Okay! Put me down! [angrily] Put me down!

Leshawna: I don’t know about y’all, but Heather has got to go.

Owen: Yeah, but Beth cursed us with that wooden tiki doll thingy.

Leshawna: Mm, true. Dear curse, please hit Heather next. And if possible, hit her upside the head!

I pretend to be possessed standing going to find Heather.

Heather: You know, Lindsay, I could convince the team to vote you off tonight. You were a major traitor. But you did let me out of the fridge. So I’ll give you one more chance if you vote with me tonight. There, see? All better. Oh, and if you ever team up with Leshawna against me again, I’ll cut off all your hair while you’re sleeping. Hey what are you doing in here go away. Iris I mean it stay back. *Iris smacks Heather upside the head* Ow jerk what was that for?

You said rubbing her head. I sit back with Leshawna acting as uf nothing happened.

(confessionals : Screaming Gophers (minus Beth))

Heather :Today’s vote was really hard, but only because there were so many annoying people to choose from.

Lindsay(laughing) : I can’t believe we locked her in the fridge! That was so cool!(stops laughing) She’s not going to see this, is she?

Heather: Leshawna is a royal pain in the butt. And Owen completely screwed up everything for us.

Lindsay: Her eyebrows look so bad! I’d kinda like to vote Heather off, but…

Heather: I vote for Beth.

Owen [burps] : Beth.

Iris "sorry you little dipshit time to go."

(confessionals off)

At the elimination Ceriomony

[dramatic music]

[fire crackles]

Chris: I’ve got seven Gophers sitting in front of me tonight. But only seven fluffy bits of sweet safety in my hands. So good luck. When I call your name, come up and get your marshmallow. Leshawna. Iris. Owen. Gwen. Trent. Lindsay. Heather, Beth. It’s down to you. Whoever doesn’t get this last marshmallow must immediately walk The Dock of Shame and leave on the Boat of Losers. Forever.

[dramatic music]

Chris: The final marshmallow goes to… Heather.

Heather: You heard him. Boat of Losers, that-a-way. That really was stupid of you to take that doll from the island.

Leshawna: Seeya girl.

Chris: That’s it for tonight. And you might wanna burn some sage to get rid of any lingering curse vibes.

Leshawna: Cool. Will Chef give us some sage?

Chris: Nope. So good luck with that.

Iris "I have some." I said annoyed

[wolf howls]

Harold snores

Girls giggle

Courtney and Leshawna: Good morning, Harold.

Harold: Ee!

Duncan: So, learned your lesson yet?

Harold: Yes! Okay! Yes!

Geoff: Oh, we’re gonna need more than that, man.

Harold: I’ll never leave my crusty underwear out again! I swear!

Geoff: What the heck? I believe him.(throws a sack full of underwear at Harold) It was a pleasure doing business with you!

DJ, Duncan, and Geoff laugh.

I found Harold by himself knowing the time was right.

[mfmagazine]

Minus The Bear

Article by Tyson Lynn

Minus the Bear have been as well known for their absurd song titles, "Monkey! Knife! Fight!" and "Lemurs, Man, Lemurs," as they are for the songs themselves. With any luck, that's about to change. On their newest release, "Menos el Oso," Minus The Bear pairs the frenetic energy of their past albums with new textures, styles, and influences. The result is an album that rocks from start to finish, with enough verve and panache to satiate old fans and attract new. I caught up with drummer, Erin Tate, just before their appearance at the Bumbershoot music festival in Seattle. My roommate's in love in with you. She saw you play, and that was it. Do these sorts of things happen often? (laughs) No, I don't know how often that happens. Generally people pick the singer. I don't know. No comment. I first heard you guys up at Western. You definitely have an undeniable energy live. Do you guys love the touring? Definitely. Its one thing that keeps me interested in being in this band, the touring. We're all really good friends -- the five of us are really close, and it's a fun way to get out of town with your buddies. There's stuff that's really horrible about it and days that are really boring, but so many of my favorite parts of my life are from touring. Before you took a hiatus to record your newest album, you went on a tour with the Straylight Run and Spitalfield that caught you a bit of flack from your fans. Does that bother you at all? Not really. We just thought it would be a tour that would broaden our fan base. People who like Straylight Run might not necessarily know who we are. It was an opportunity to get out and play for some different kinds of people. Let them see what else is out there. People can think what they want to think and say what they want to say, it doesn't really bother us at all. How was the response on that tour? Fucking amazing. It was really good. It was probably our best tour to date, for sure. Are you already planning the next album? Yeah. We've written three or four songs. We try to practice a few times a week, just trying to keep ahead of the game. Making sure we have songs written, because it was three years between full lengths because we were touring so much. Now we're just taking advantage of the time while we're home to write more. Your newest album, Menos El Oso, is out now. Were you ready and prepared to release it upon the world? Yeah. I mean, it's been leaked for so long that I already feel like it's out. (laughs) I'm really excited about it; I'm excited for it to be out. When you say leaked, do you know where it came from? Not necessarily, no. But it's been all over. People have been emailing us for months now saying, "your new record is great." Does that bother you at all? It's got its good and it’s bad. It's annoying to set this release date, and hope you can build up some sort of anticipation, but at the same time it's definitely created a buzz for it. You hope that those people who downloaded the album will go out and buy it, or come to a show and buy a shirt or something to help support us as opposed to taking the money out of our pocket and the food out of my mouth. You've talked in the past about the changes that went into this album, so let's start with writing. Yeah. The last full-length was all of us writing it, and this record Dave [Knudson, Guitarist] and I wrote a lot of the skeletons of songs, just the basic structures and came up with a lot of the parts. The other guys were really busy, but they came in and wrote their own parts, obviously. But they would come in and help with arrangements. So writing this record was really different because it was a lot of just me and Dave just being down at the practice space together. Did you like that? You mentioned you love touring -- how about writing? Oh, it's fun. This record I definitely enjoyed more than anything else I've ever done because we just took different approaches on the way we write songs and how we play music in general. It's fun, sometimes it's really annoying when it's hot and gross, but being in the practice space, being on the road, all of it has its good parts. On this album, I noticed you guys were more heavily involved in the production work. Did that make it easier or harder? I don't know if it made it easier or harder, there were aspects that were hard. I mean, since we're essentially doing it ourselves, we were just being crazy about the way things sounded. We kinda drove ourselves nuts. We recorded our last record, including mixing, in two to three weeks; this album took three months. There was at least one person working on the record every day for three months. What made it better was that we know how we want our stuff to sound and where we can make it sound different from everything else we've done. But we're all happy with the way it came out. I prefer producing our own stuff and having control over the sounds we get. When you have someone working on the album everyday for three months, how do you know when it's done? We actually set a mastering date. And then we're like, "Ok, this is when it has to be done by." While we were mixing stuff, Matt [Bayles, Keyboardist] would be in the control room, and the four of us would be in the other room doing last minute vocals and percussion. When we were done, we'd run it into Matt and he'd start mixing it. We were definitely tying up stuff at the last minute. That's got to make for a hectic last few days. It was crazy. So for the next album, when it comes around, are you going to do more production work? I don't really know, we'll see how it goes. It really depends on how the songs come out and how we want them to be treated. If we get ten or twelve songs done, and we feel that this producer would really nail the vibe, then we'd do that. But I can see ourselves doing it again. Just to go back to your songwriting again, did you look to specifically change your influences or the vibe? All of us have always listened to a lot of hip-hop, electronic, and that stuff. But there were a few different records that set the tone for the album, ones that we drew influences from. As far as Dave and I being down at the practice space, drinking beer and listening to music, going, "wow, this part is fucking incredible. I wonder if we could something that sounded like that." I mean, from the last album to this record, Dave's guitar playing is insanely different, and a lot of that is due to DJ stuff and weird stuff. We were just trying to come up with sounds and then morph the sounds into guitar lines. Just trying to see what random noises we could come up with and make into riffs. Albums like what? Dave listened to The Books, Prefuse 73, Four Tet, Caribou. A lot of weird electronica. For me, beat-wise, I'm a big fan of hip-hop producers like Pete Rock, DJ Premiere, and Dr. Dre. Not that my beats sound like them, but there's a lot of influence there that we try to draw from. When it comes to writing more songs, are you going to move more in that direction? The new songs are real weird so far. When we writing Menos El Oso, we were just like, "Wow, these songs are fucking bizarre." I mean, before there's vocals on the songs. Musically, the songs are really weird, but the vocals turn them out to be catchier and poppier than we expected them to be. So far, the stuff that we've written is pretty strange, like nine and a half minute jam songs. We never really know how it's going to come out until its closer to done.

[theplaguezine]

DEATH ANGEL

Interview with Dennis Pepa by Daniel Hinds

(conducted April 2004)

The boundless energy that defined the thrash metal movement of the 80s was perhaps most evident in the Bay Area's most vibrant and innovative act, the Filipino five-piece known as Death Angel.   This is a band that is just at ease letting loose with a fast thrasher one moment and a somber acoustic number the next.  After a decade absence from the scene, the band reunited (minus original guitarist Gus Pepa) for the Thrash of the Titans show in 2001, a benefit for Testament's Chuck Billy and his cancer treatment.  That went so well, they quickly booked several local and European shows and proceeded to record a new album, The Art of Dying, which effortlessly combines everything the band has done before and incorporates several new elements as well.  Bassist Dennis Pepa brings us up to date with unique outfit… You've always had slightly unusual album titles - how did The Art of Dying come about? It actually came up from Andy watching a Bruce Lee video, a documentary on TV.  I think it was part of an old Bruce Lee proverb and Andy just brought it to us one day and it was definitely on the list on the wall of what album title we were going to use.  After analyzing everything to death (laughs), we thought that would make total sense to put that on the album. Do you have a deeper meaning that you've ascribed to it? Some people look at it and are like, 'Well, you guys are coming back, shouldn't it be The Art of Living?'  But if you look at it one way, yeah, but then the way we look at the title, it is the art of dying - not the art of death, it's what you do before you die, you actually live your life.  So it's kind of a rebirth title, it's got a twist to it.  We didn't want to make it that simple. The production has a pretty raw feel to it - were you setting out to avoid getting too polished a sound on this one? Definitely.  Out of all the Death Angel albums, we try to do that for each one of them, because we've always liked the live feel and we feel we are more of a live band than a studio band.  Brian Dobbs somehow captured it this time - he just turned the right knob and used the right mics and our chemistries just gelled as far as what the goal was.  To me, it's our best production just because he did capture that live feel with a clarity - I mean, you can hear every single instrument on there.  Again, we were trying to do stay away from what everybody else is doing, as far as production nowadays.  The whole Death Angel, just use somebody not too many people are using, take a different path. Can you describe the general songwriting process in Death Angel?  Is it any different from the early days? I think it has actually changed to where more of us are contributing a lot more to each song and there's definitely more input throughout the band.  Rob is still the total main writer of the band, he probably wrote I'd say 75% of the music, but we definitely all have say in it now.  It's cool because we don't take just one formula and write that way.  Sometimes, somebody will come to practice with a whole song written, sometimes we'll all write a song in one go, and sometimes we'll give each other a riff and somebody will add to it.  Each song was written differently, there's not really one formula to it.  I think the break we had was really good as far as our musicianship and respecting what each other does. The arrangements on all of your songs seem very meticulous, very well planned out.  Is that stuff all nailed down before you enter the studio? Yeah, pretty much.  We try to nail that down during pre-production, just demoing and demoing a song.  Nowadays, you can do that in your own studio because technology.  Rearranging songs and playing with how things fall after each thing.  I think that is definitely one of our strong points as far as writing.

I know you did some touring before you recorded this album - did you get a chance to try out any of these songs live before you recorded them? We started playing "Prophecy" and "Five Steps of Freedom" during the earlier legs of the last tours, just because those were the two newest songs to us so we just started playing them live.  We just wanted to see what the response would be and it was pretty cool, people really embraced them.  Aside from that, we didn't really play any of the other songs, we kind of wanted to keep it hidden. I read something about re-issues coming out on Rykodisc. What's happening is The Ultra-Violence is being remastered and the bonus tracks on that are the Kill As One demo, produced by Kirk [Hammett], and that's also remastered.  Frolic is getting remastered and three unreleased Death Angels songs are on that, from that era, and a third CD is coming out that is called Rarities.  It's twelve songs that Death Angel never released.  Some of them are demo versions, some are studio versions, some of them are live garage tapes, but it's going to add up to a new album for us.  It was all recorded in the 80s and it's all songs that were never on any of the three albums.  It's more of a hardcore fan CD versus somebody who wants to pick up a Death Angel album, because it's older stuff and not the greatest produced stuff, but it's songs that we've never released and quite a few people out there know some of these songs from back in the day.  They asked us why we never released them, so now is the chance to go out and buy it.  All three CDs will also come in a box set which will include a DVD which has old interviews with us and I think our older videos, from the first two albums.  As far as Act III goes, nothing is really moving on it yet.  I think what's going to happen is I think Geffen has it right now and they're going to hold onto it until the new album launches and they see what the numbers are.  I'm crossing my fingers, I hope they reissue it. Do you think you'll ever have a proper live album released someday? It's one of those things where we just need to be in the right place of this new career of ours.  We don't want to rush into it and do a half-assed job, we definitely want to plan it out and do it right.  We actually want to do a DVD version of it, too, so we'll probably release the live album as well as the DVD and the DVD will probably have more of the whole concert versus the album.  We're hoping to do that within the next two years. When the band split back in the early 90s, was that a difficult decision to make or was it pretty obvious by that point that something needed to change? Yes and no.  With all the shit we were going through, it wasn't too hard and we just wanted to walk away from it.  But then again, there was all the work that we did as well, so it was both.  I think it was actually easier than not because we wanted it to end and move on.  That's why right after that we started The Organization. When you reformed for the Thrash of the Titans show, was it thought to be just a one-off thing? Definitely, the whole thing was for Chuck and his cause and we only rehearsed two days before that because we thought it was just going to be a one-off   From the audience feedback and people telling us we stole the show and just the way it made us feel on stage, a few months later we re-established the band and announced it officially. Do you get a lot of younger fans coming to the shows? We're starting to.  I mean we definitely want to hit the younger audience, that's always the prime market, but we want to do it with the right bands.  We don't want to go out with any of these commercial nu-metal bands - we want to keep it at a level where it is respectable to us, too.  About four months ago we played a show with The Deftones in Sacramento and the kids went crazy and their whole audience is like 12 to late 20s.  I walked around after our set and all these kids were amazed, they didn't know who we were, they had never seen anything like us.  We pretty much sold out of our merchandise and the Deftones guys were like, 'Man, nobody ever sells merch like that!' (laughs)  I definitely think we have a niche in that market, we just need to be exposed to it.  I think if we did like the Vans Warped tour, that would be perfect. You guys did a video recently? Yeah, for "Thicker Than Blood."  It turned out really good.  We filmed it in an abandoned train station in Oakland.  Hopefully you'll see it on MTV. Death Angel has always drawn on more than just thrash metal, but what are your thoughts on the genre and its resurgence in recent years? To be honest, until we got back together three years ago, I really didn't pay attention to it.  Like I said, I listen to punk rock and that's really my scene.  I would now and then go see a metal band, but until we got back together, I didn't really know what was going on in the whole metal scene.  I just knew that these bands were commercial sounding and they were on the radio and was kind of disgusted by it.  Everybody was tuning down and playing three chords, everybody wanted to be crossover rap kinda metal thing.  It lasted for over ten years but I think it's starting to crumble now, it just seems like so many people are tired of it that nu-metal is just like old-metal or used-metal, whatever you want to call it - it's just not hip anymore.  I think thrash metal is definitely on an upswing and has the potential to be really huge this time.

https://www.deathangel.us

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “Life Choices” (Rated T)

(I really don't want to start this summary with "In a world ..." but ... sigh) At age sixteen, everyone gets the name of their government appointed mate tattooed on their wrist. This is the person you are required to spend your life with, or else. But Kurt doesn't believe in that system. He wants the right to choose who he loves. So he does something drastic. He just hopes that Sebastian can forgive him. (1877 words)

High school AU. Warning for dystopian style angst. Briefest ever mention of B*laine and K*laine, but no Blaine wank.

Read on AO3.

It’s close to ten o’clock when Kurt returns to Dalton. He’s two hours past curfew, but that’s fine. Every senior knows how to get into the dorms after the resident advisors lock the doors for the night. It’s a rite of passage that the juniors are taught at the end of the school year by the class of graduating seniors. Kurt is pretty confident that the administration knows about the senior’s “great escape”. It’s not that devious a secret. There’s a fake panel in the floor of the groundskeeper’s shed. It leads to an underground passage that lets out in the boiler room. From there, a ladder goes up to a rarely used utility closet. It’s kind of obvious, especially on Sunday nights, when scores of boys come streaming through, one at a time and in three minute intervals like they’re actually being stealthy. But the higher ups at Dalton haven’t fixed it. Maybe they agree that an eight p.m. curfew for seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds is asinine, and that breaking out every once in a while is an important step to their boys becoming men – finding their way out into the world on their own, practicing independence.

Which would be ironic considering the one thing that happens to everyone during their teen years without consent – the thing that Kurt is trying his hardest to run away from. Kurt has gone through many rites of passage over the past four years, none of which he’s had the power to affect … until now.

He didn’t tell anyone he was going. He just up and left after English class, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn’t be tempted to answer it. He didn’t want anyone trying to stop him. Not that they could have. He’d had this decision made from the second the registrar showed up at school (McKinley at the time) and their goons tattooed a name on his wrist - the name of his government appointed “mate” as chosen by the Department of Health and Human Services. That tattoo was the catalyst that put a mountain of change into motion – a bully at his school, one who had been making his life hell, kissed him, revealing some apparent pent up longing for Kurt which needed to be expressed when he discovered that he and Kurt weren’t meant to be together; moving from McKinley to Dalton, since going to where his mate lived was easier than convincing his mate’s family to transfer for Kurt; and then falling in love, incidentally not with his government appointed mate, which was a problem.

A problem that Kurt needed to fix, and he didn’t want to be delayed. The man willing to do this for him was only available during a brief window of time that afternoon. After tonight, he’d have to leave. Kurt’s is the first cover up of this kind that he’s ever done, but aside from it, other things he’s been doing aren’t exactly legal.

He has to leave Ohio soon before he gets caught.

Four hours Kurt drove till he reached his destination, but the process took only one hour to complete. After it was done, Kurt felt relieved. Lifted. Like the biggest burden of his life had been removed from his shoulders.

For the first time since he’d turned sixteen, Kurt felt free.

But returning to Dalton, stepping into the dorm, a cold chill sets in. Maybe he should have just gone back to Lima, hid out at home and planned his next move. At homeroom in the morning, everyone’s going to see what he did, and then he’ll have to face the consequences.

That’s only twelve short hours away.

He’s not going to be able to sleep. In fact, he’ll probably just stay up all night and vomit until then.

But the reason he came back to Dalton is one of the reasons why he drove four hours to do what he did.

Kurt can’t leave the boy he fell in love with behind.

This part of the dorm – uninhabited after several floors (minus this one) were retrofitted over twenty years ago – is normally quiet and empty when the boys return. That’s what Kurt’s hoping for, but he finds Sebastian waiting for him, sitting in a gold gilded wing chair at the far end when Kurt sneaks out of the utility closet. Kurt had a feeling he would be. Sebastian has been obsessed with Kurt’s tattoo, and the name cutting black across his porcelain skin, since the moment Kurt arrived at Dalton. There’s a 50/50 chance that Sebastian is going to be furious over what Kurt did, but Kurt had no other choice. He had no intention of being locked into this antiquated system, a system which he didn’t agree to. This is his life. Only he gets to live it. He has to have the right to make his own decisions.

And he’ll live with the consequences of those decisions. He just hopes that, in time, Sebastian understands, and can forgive him.

“You didn’t tell me you were going,” Sebastian scolds.

“Yes, I did.”

“Fine.” Sebastian rolls his eyes at Kurt’s irritating need to be so frickin’ specific all the time. “Correction - you didn’t tell me you were going today.”

“You would have tried to stop me.”

“You’re damn right I would have tried to stop you!” Sebastian launches from his chair, trying to tower over Kurt, intimidate him. It doesn’t exactly work. Sebastian’s only an inch taller. And it doesn’t matter. Kurt is a difficult boy to intimidate. “Kurt, this wasn’t a good idea!”

“What did you expect me to do?”

“Put up with it! Make the best of it! Just like the rest of us!” Sebastian says, raising his arm to wave his own tattoo, blazed across his wrist, in Kurt’s face. “At least you could have talked to me about this before you did it. Asked me how I felt.”

“Why? Regardless of whose name is on my wrist, it’s my life! Besides, didn’t you tell me that you hate this system as much as I do? I’m doing both of us a favor.”

“By throwing your life away?” Sebastian chuckles with a cruelty that comes from his heartbreaking. This wasn’t Kurt’s only choice. They could have figured something else out, something that wouldn’t possibly get him arrested. “Some favor.”

Kurt’s eyes water, but he refuses to let Sebastian see him cry. “Are you really mad at me?”

“Yes,” Sebastian huffs, crossing his arms. But it’s not a gesture of anger. It’s a need for security. Sebastian hugs himself hard, trying to stop shaking, and when he can’t, he decides it’s time to face the music. “Well, let me see it,” he says, not sure that he wants to. Because if what Kurt did actually sets him free from this arranged mate b.s., what does that mean for Sebastian, with a name still on his wrist?

What does that mean for the two of them?

Kurt rolls up his sleeve and presents Sebastian his wrist. The artist who covered Kurt’s tattoo put a piece of clear plastic tape over it to protect it. Sebastian can’t feel the skin underneath, but he can see the new image blotting out the old.

“I … I can’t believe you covered it,” Sebastian murmurs, staring at the vividly rendered blackbird surrounded by a flourish of rainbow musical notes where Kurt’s mate’s name used to be. “How … how could you do that?”

“I warned you,” Kurt says, defending his actions instead of offering an explanation. He’s already explained a dozen times. If Sebastian doesn’t understand by now, one more explanation isn’t going to do any good. “I told you I was going to.”

Sebastian continues to shake his head. In awe? In disappointment? He wishes Sebastian would get past this initial shock and just tell him what’s going on in his head. “You’re going to get in so much trouble.”

“I don’t care,” Kurt groans, done with this part of the reveal, ready to move on with making plans for the rest of his life as if this one action might not stop that all in its tracks. “How is whatever they can do to me any worse than not being able to live and love on my own terms?” Kurt wants to sound more confident, more sure of his place in the world than he does. Even though every day of his life up until now wasn’t guaranteed (because no one’s is), for the first time, he can feel the weight of tomorrow’s uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. “This is my life. I decide how to live it. I decide who I love, Sebastian ... and I love you.”

“You could have learned to love Blaine,” Sebastian argues, his voice crackling, curling at the corners like a sheet of paper catching fire around the edges, being slowly eaten from the outside in.

“I do love Blaine,” Kurt says. “But I love you more.”

“And what if I told you that you did this for nothing?” Sebastian asks, tears hiding underneath the words, something Kurt has never heard in Sebastian’s voice before. “That the registrar was right? That I agree I should be with Hunter and not you?”

Kurt puts his hand over Sebastian’s in a way that doesn’t hide his new tattoo. No matter what, Kurt can’t hide what he did. “I can’t take this back. So if you do want him, I need you to tell me now …”

“So you can run away? Hide and be safe?” Sebastian asks, ready to pack Kurt’s things and shove him out the door if he agrees.

“No. I still intend to fight this system. It isn’t right. I just need to know exactly what I’m fighting for.”

Sebastian holds Kurt’s arm and stares. He didn’t expect Kurt to feel so strongly about this. But he isn’t the only one. Most everyone at Dalton agrees it isn’t fair. A lot of the teachers blocked the doors in protest the day the registrar showed up, hoping to spare their students this fate, but there was nothing they could do. Many of the ones who weren’t arrested were fired on the spot until the rest backed down. Both Kurt and Sebastian know it’s not up to the adults to fight this time. It’s up to them to step forward and say no. No more.

“This … has never been done before,” Sebastian says, his voice losing volume as his argument starts losing stamina.

“There’s always a first time. Someone has to be that first.” Kurt raises Sebastian’s hands to his mouth and braves a kiss across his knuckles. Kurt doesn’t expect Sebastian to pull away, but that’s all he can expect. He knows how Sebastian feels about him. He knows Sebastian loves him. He just doesn’t know how Sebastian, son of a state’s attorney, feels about bucking this system – a system that Sebastian’s father happens to think works well. If Sebastian goes along with Kurt, he has a whole lot to lose, and only one thing to gain – Kurt.

“Then I guess …” Sebastian lets go of Kurt, but only long enough to wrap his arms around him and hug him tight “… I’ll be the second.”

[ahouseoflies]

The Best Films of 2016, Part II

Part I is here. ENDEARING CURIOSITIES WITH BIG FLAWS 99. Demolition (Jean-Marc Vallée) Demolition is in the shape of something I like; it's not an unpleasant sit. Chris Cooper nails the scenes that aren't too hamstrung with cliches. And, if nothing else, the film reminded me of how good the song "To Be Alone With You" is. But, my God, what planet are these characters on? Instead of approximating human emotion and motivation, the screenplay opts for "whatever's cutest," and we end up with affectation after Braffian affectation. (For example, I don't care who you are. You own clothes other than suits. Don't act like you need to go out and buy clothes to do manual labor. Have you never gone to the gym? Have you never stayed home sick? Have you never slept? The imagery of a guy in a suit swinging a sledgehammer into drywall is striking, but that can't be worth the distraction.) More damning possibly--and here's where I remind you that the protagonist is an investment banker, which automatically deflates most of your empathy for him--Demolition is one of those movies that wants you to think the character overcomes his selfishness, but really he just learns how to be selfish in a different way. Arguably, a more destructive way in this case. 98. The Infiltrator (Brad Furman) This movie is competent, but there's nothing that it does that hasn't been done better in similar films. For example, Cranston's Richard Mazur has been going undercover with money launderers, and one of them happens to recognize him when he's on a date with his real wife. Mazur introduces his real wife as his secretary, since this money launderer has met his fake wife, and he beats up and humiliates the waiter who "mistakenly" brings out a happy anniversary cake. That reaction is enough to throw the launderer off his scent. These types of scenes, the collision of the personal and the professional, can be tense. Donnie Brasco has a somewhat similar scene in which the title character can't remove his shoes at a Japanese restaurant because that's where his recording device is. But that scene written by Paul Attanasio turns into something more passionate and captivating because Brasco makes up a story about his dad dying at the hands of Japanese soldiers: He refuses to show them respect for personal reasons. The arc of the scene is the same, and a waiter still gets his ass kicked. But there's something more dangerous to it, a further blurring of the lines of responsibility. I get why the story of The Infiltrator would have been interesting to its adapters, but no one imbues it with anything new.

97. High-Rise (Ben Wheatley) Wheatley's nihilism still isn't my cup of tea--or in this case, barbecued dog leg. But I can see his talent here, in a movie that looks three times what the reported budget was. I liked--and I swear this is a compliment--how uninterested the film was in storytelling. If the class warfare conceit is as obvious as it is, then we don't need hand-holding on the way there. In fact, the first half-hour of world-building was what I liked the most, before there was any sort of narrative cohesion at all. It's Cronenbergian in its delivery and pacing, flat enough to never let you know when a moment is supposed to be important. All of the cross-cutting among characters, many of whom are not interesting, got sloppy and empty, but there are moments, such as the Portishead montage, that hint at something I would have enjoyed more. 96. Hunt for the Wilderpeople (Taika Waititi) To me, this step back for Waititi illustrates well the difference between cute-funny and funny-funny. I can see where the jokes are supposed to go, and a theater would laugh at the lines just because an oblivious kid is saying them, but it amounted to a long, silent 100 minutes at home by myself. The protagonist loves hip-hop culture, but all of his reference points are at least ten years old. Although that could be a sly nod to the idea that other parts of the world get our culture handed down, I'm not sure the movie is aware that twelve year olds don't listen to Tupac. It's an example of the grand versus intimate touchstones that get lost in translation here. 95. The Program (Stephen Frears) Lance Armstrong is an enigma because psychopaths are enigmas, but this film, despite Ben Foster's adequate mimicry, doesn't burrow any closer into shedding light onto Armstrong's black hole. This is a story, a greatest hits across twenty years, that we've seen before, and it doesn't really do anything with it that Alex Gibney or Real Sports or 60 Minutes haven't done already. It's at its best when it's focused on resentful supporting characters or the minutiae of the doping program itself. A more focused, intimate approach might have worked better than, say, Armstrong meeting his wife and marrying her in back-to-back scenes, then never mentioning her again. The Program is easy enough to watch, but it can't sustain any of the things it does well. 94. Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk (Ang Lee) Vin Diesel has a monologue about Hinduism. Steve Martin plays Jerry Jones. There are stand-ins for Destiny's Child that the viewer sees only from behind. This is a movie that's more fun to describe than to actually watch. There are ideas here, most notably the readiness to turn soldiers into symbols instead of dealing with them as individuals. But the ideas' frequency does not replace their lack of nuance. Unlike many other auteurs, Ang Lee does seem to make films for other people. He really wonders how viewers would react to a comic book movie that actually looked like a comic book. Or what if "love knows no boundaries" wasn't a platitude? Or what if 3D had thematic significance? This movie is an experiment as well, in 3D and 120 fps, though I didn't get to see the movie that way because it bombed. But the material doesn't seem worthy of the formal invention propping it up, which ends up being more distracting than immersive. No amount of Chris Tucker delivering lines straight into the camera can improve how on-the-nose that dialogue is. It's thought-provoking only for facing me with the question "Am I too old to be attracted to someone named Makenzie?" 93. Miles Ahead (Don Cheadle) For years, I've been saying that I don't want any more Walk Hard-style musician biopics. I don't want a run up of greatest hits. I don't want Miles Davis to be having a regular conversation with someone only to make a stop-the-presses gesture with his hand to ask, "What if we called it...Bitches Brew?" But this...I don't want this either. Miles Ahead finds Miles Davis strung out and heartbroken during a fallow period in the '70s, occasionally pausing car chases or whatever to flash back to a more inspired time. I applaud the film for taking a different direction, but Miles Davis minus the genius was just kind of a dick. And the (entirely fictional) story built around him here isn't compelling enough to make up for that. At least I got to say, once again, "If anyone figures out how to use Keith Stanfield, he's going to be a star." 92. Southside With You (Richard Tanne) A little too cute for me, hampered by a Tika Sumpter performance that is actively bad. I know how Michelle Obama sounds when she's making a convention speech, but I'm pretty sure she doesn't sound like that one-on-one. Overall the film is sweet and clean, never sticking around long enough to wear out its welcome. But I can't say that it got to the bottom of these two people or anything else. It did remind me enough of them to make me sad that they aren’t in my life anymore. 91. Kill Zone 2 (Soi Cheang) It should have been called Talking About Bone Marrow Transplants Zone 2. 90. Rams (Grímur Hákonarson) A modest, sleepy effort that hits most of its targets, immersing the viewer in a unique farming valley. I grew impatient with it though, and I felt as if it tipped its metaphors too obviously. Part of my indifference stems from the trailer being cut as if Rams is a comedy, and it isn't very funny at all.

89. Certain Women (Kelly Reichardt) I think Reichardt is circling around the idea of polite, tacit negotiation keeping us from what we really want, but the film is laid out so inertly and listlessly that it's hard to get on its wavelength. (No mature person is supposed to think this way, but I'm pretty sure I could cut twenty minutes from this ninety-seven-minute movie without missing much.) The third story is unquestionably the highlight, and the civil regret that hangs on Lily Gladstone's face as she Death in Venices Kristen Stewart is almost enough to make up for all of the stuff that I was lukewarm on. If you want to watch K-Stew eat lots of diner food--and I did--this film has something to offer in that respect. 88. Snowden (Oliver Stone) I wanted to break with the party line on Snowden, but I ended up exactly on the party line, mostly regarding the movie's lack of weirdness. It's so conventional that it feels compromised, especially in the Nicolas Cage role that feels cut to ribbons. Whether good or bad, the thing that I used to be able to say about Oliver Stone films is that no one else could have directed them. But between this and Savages, I can't say that anymore. Here's a bullshit critique for someone who likes drama, but [deep breath] if Citizenfour supplies us with the actual footage of Snowden in Hong Kong, and that's the most tense material Stone has, then...what hope is there for the rest of the movie? The kinetic end credit sequence and the last five minutes, which inject the real-life Edward Snowden into the proceedings, breathe fresh air into a by-the-binary-code biopic. There's also a charmer of a scene between Gordon-Levitt and Woodley that casts them as stand-ins for Stone's torn responsibility toward patriotism. Anthony Dod Mantle seems like a perfect partner for Stone now that Robert the Coke Wizard Richardson is long gone, and he hangs back until an impressionistic depiction of a seizure. Joseph Gordon-Levitt is at a 7 on the "RELAX, bro" scale; Peter Gabriel made a goofy, paranoid song for the movie. It seems like business as usual for everybody except the guy I wanted to see doing business as usual. 87. Keanu (Peter Atencio) As was the case for me with Key & Peele's show, the biggest setpieces rarely landed, (Hi, Will Forte!) but tiny expressions and stray lines tore me up. I knew I was getting a movie about a cat and a movie about mistaken identity drug dealing. I did not know I was getting a movie that is 75% about code-switching. Thin and silly, it doesn't get extreme enough. The bar has fallen pretty low for studio comedies, I suppose. 86. Lo and Behold: Reveries of the Connected World (Werner Herzog) In which Herzog dumps out his "Technology Interviews" folder, diffuse as it may be. For every profound sentiment or game Herzogism, we get something bizarre (the introduction-free part on right to privacy) or something obligatory. (I guess I should interview Elon Musk, right?) One moment stood out. Herzog interviews this bubbly robotics student who specializes in building bots that play soccer. He believes, as he pets his autonomous striker, that one day robots will be able to beat World Cup champions. Herzog, off-camera, asks about the robot, "It's beautiful? You love it?" The kid laughs and says yes without reflection. But Herzog intended for that question to be more probing. He's not laughing. He's making something more substantial in his head, even if he doesn't ever declare what that vision is. 85. A Bigger Splash (Luca Guadagnino) Just as I did with Guadignino's previous feature I Am Love, I scratched my head after A Bigger Splash wondering what I missed. Besides the surface pleasures--there's a title card explaining that Swinton's wardrobe was courtesy of Raf Simmons and Christian Dior--I couldn't access this oddly-shaped wife-swap. Something interesting happens at the fifteen-minute mark, something interesting happens at the hour and a half mark, something interesting happens at the hour and fifty-five mark, and the movie ends without really unpacking that last shift. That's a lot of material that wastes the talent involved, most notably Fiennes, who is remarkably turnt. The Swinton character is famous, but the movie isn't really about fame. The characters are separated by a lot of years, but the movie isn't really about age. What is it? 84. The Beatles: Eight Days a Week- The Touring Years (Ron Howard) Pleasant but superfluous, Eight Days a Week runs through the same beats we already know. At one point the editing dips into gravity, and the interviewer asks Paul how the Kennedy assassination affected him, to which he says, honestly, "I was too wrapped up in myself at the time." So it didn't have any impact, and there's no reason for it to be in the film? Got it. I was way lower on the documentary until it dipped into the late '60s, when the exhaustion and frustration of the band took hold. Some of that felt new and human in a way that The Beatles usually aren't. 83. 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi (Michael Bay) For your consideration: Pablo Schreiber slamming an assault rifle onto a chessboard to reload it, as metaphor-y as Michael Bay gets. As American as it is, 13 Hours reminded me of a Chinese buffet. At first, I was excited to see what it had to offer, even found some things that I liked. I couldn't take my eyes off it. The way Bay intercuts distant, silent shots of rounds firing across the night sky with noisy, chaotic consequences on the ground was kind of like the kung pao chicken or the beef with garlic sauce. But then the music starts to telegraph the "human" scenes, and you wonder how long that crab rangoon has been sitting out. There's a lot of oil in that beef with broccoli, and they're laying it on pretty thick with Gale Boetticher as the bureaucratic twerp about to retire. If this is such a serious affair, should the soldiers still be cracking jokes about missing the Broncos game, though that's something Bay has always done? Should you really have taken that much of whatever the dish with the mushrooms is? By the end of the two and a half hours, you get overwhelmed. As your stomach burns, you wonder why you gave this place a shot in the first place. Sure, you're thankful that you get to eat at all. But you can do better than this. Can't you? 

82. Cafe Society (Woody Allen) I remember when the greatest screenwriter of all time gave actors work that could elevate their talents; now they seem to be propping up his first drafts. That's definitely the case for Jesse Eisenberg and Kristen Stewart, who should star in everything together. Eisenberg comes off like a Woody Allen impression at first, especially in a never-ending, heavy-on-its-feet scene with a prostitute. But as his character gains confidence, Eisenberg's performance opens up, all arms akimbo and sitting on tables. Stewart is at her sunniest and dreamiest here, resisting her typecasting, and she hits the rhythm of Allen's dialogue without overselling it. Finally, Steve Carell, pinch-hitting for Bruce Willis after Allen fired him, is affecting--borderline tragic. It's a selfless performance depicting a selfish man. Cafe Society, Allen's first digital project, looks great too, thanks to Vittorio Storaro. ("Ho-hum. Darius Khondji was busy. Call the dude who shot Apocalypse Now.") In one scene characters are noting how beautiful Central Park is, and Storaro's reflections off the water not only live up to the moment but make one of the most photographed public spaces look new. On paper, it sounds like I should go with a higher rating. But the last half-hour sees Allen jumping through familiar hoops with diminishing returns. Ending the film on New Year's Eve with a wistful despair, exactly like he did in Radio Days, Allen is at his most contrived. When you stop wondering why the gangster brother subplot is so flimsy, it's only because the film has switched gears to manipulate you with it. (The passage of time speeds up in a condescending, yada-yada way too.) I get that the man's eighty, and his work should reflect the sand trickling down that hourglass, but why is the rest of the movie so light then? If you're going to go for it, then go for it. 81. The Accountant (Gavin O’Connor) About halfway through The Accountant, a Treasury agent is hot on the trail of the titular character's money laundering, and she enlists the help of a goateed co-worker to sift through tax records. They're doing the whole "Now get rid of the files of anybody over thirty-five" thing, and he asks, "What's in it for me?" The Treasury agent responds that she'll help him to get promoted, and he seems satisfied enough to keep working. We never see that character again--we hadn't seen him before that scene either--and none of that information is important. But The Accountant will be damned if it isn't going to check that character motivation box, no matter how inconsequential it is. The screenplay's due diligence is its greatest strength and weakness: It has thought of everything, which occasionally results in some NBC pilot-level exposition. But that dedication also makes the film reach an almost perverse level of closure, even wrapping up loose ends that the audience didn't care about in the first place. And if you're scoring at home, you do get to see Ben Affleck kill a guy with a belt. For most of its running time, the film is juggling the accountant's plot, the agent's plot, and an assassin's plot, and it can't ever get the balance right. Almost every time it shifts, especially after a J.K. Simmons information dump that rivals the Mr. X sequence of JFK, you kind of miss the people you're leaving and forgot about the people you're returning to. Bill Dubuque's screenplay depends heavily on one twist that works and one twist that I (a pretty dumb person when it comes to such things) saw coming a half-hour in advance. Your mileage may vary, depending on how much you want to see Ben Affleck kill a guy with a belt. 80. The Jungle Book (Jon Favreau) I watched the '67 animated version many times as a kid, and the songs are what I remember most. So on one hand, I was happy to hear "Bare Necessities" and "I Wanna Be Like You" when they showed up in the live-action version. But they're so eerie and obligatory and joyless that they sort of cast a shadow on the entire production's shortcomings. Favreau is an underrated director of action, and I was impressed by the kid, but I would have liked a few more scenes that were, in any context, fun. 79. Deepwater Horizon (Peter Berg) People often credit Werner Herzog with the idea of "the ecstatic truth," the idea that the fabrication of art can illuminate a deeper truth than pure facts. But we don't really have a term for the opposite, a sort of "accountant's truth" that Mark Wahlberg and Peter Berg subscribe to. The starting point is that the film is based on a true story, and the only real goal is authenticity toward the people whose faces smile back at you over the end credits. Deepwater Horizon is based on a newspaper article, and it kind of feels like that. Berg is too proficient a director for this to be a total loss. He still infuses the destruction with serendipitous moments like the pelican in the control room. The moments between Wahlberg and Hudson feel genuine. And I love how the movie just starts--if we have to sit through over a minute of production company animations, why not lay audio over it and hit the ground running? Still, it seems as if making a realistic film is an easy thing to do if all you want to do is make a realistic film. 78. Loving (Jeff Nichols) Jeff Nichols specializes in characters who are driven by a singular purpose. In Shotgun Stories, the brothers were treated unfairly by their father, and people should know that. In Take Shelter, Curtis knows that the apocalypse is going to happen, and people should know that. In Midnight Special, the boy is special, which some people should know but others should not. In Loving, Richard and Mildred have a similar drive, knowing that they should be married because that's what's right and fair. But what if that issue is more complicated than what the film, understated to a fault, can manage? In the actual Loving case, Mildred's original defense was that she wasn't fully Black, but the film isn’t interested in that type of ambiguity. The best scene of the film is one in which a Black person apprises Richard of his privilege as a White man, and it's as if that had never occurred to him. Of course marriage is an inherent right that should not be limited by race. But is that all the film has to say? Nichols resists most tropes of the liberal message movie, but there's still, say, the scene of someone maybe following Richard. What the film gets right is the portrait of humble, quiet people who don't want to be representatives of a cause. And it briefly comes alive when Michael Shannon shows up. But if the music never swells, if no one ever gives a speech, then what we're left with is a bit stalled. 77. The Magnificent Seven (Antoine Fuqua) This movie is exactly what it purports to be. More Sarsgaard please. And throw a little Ribisi on top next time.

76. Krisha (Trey Edward Shults) The final ten minutes are the most interesting, and they go a long way toward erasing the ambling, obvious material leading up to that poignant finale. We know this woman is going to self-destruct, and most of the movie is waiting for that to happen. Trey Edward Shults shows promise by Nashvilling so many people in and out of the location, but he might rely too much on music to stitch things together. For example, there's a friendly scene between Krisha and Dr. Becker, then a cutaway and some paranoid music, and all of a sudden they're shouting at each other. Music alone can't get us all the way there. Krisha Fairchild plays the title character as if she's King Lear, but I think the character is written more dully and more flatly than what she's playing. 75. Lion (Garth Davis) Is this the first film made worse by Rooney Mara and Nicole Kidman? It isn't clear from the trailer, but none of the name actors are in this movie until the forty-five minute mark, and the first forty-five minutes is unquestionably the best part of the film. With little orientation, we watch a five-year-old Indian boy get lost, in understandable fashion, 1600 km from his home. He fends for himself, and we're locked into his intimidated point of view. The actor is Sunny Pawar, whose bright smile and irrepressible energy make us hang on every moment with the character. Cut to twenty years later, and we get Indian Jesus Dev Patel sobbing onto his laptop for a sizable percentage of the running time. His romance with a wasted Rooney Mara has no teeth--"I support you but what if they aren't there but I support you but..." Compared to the literal life-and-death stakes of the first portion, it's pretty languid. Eventually the movie gives us the stirring ending that we all want, and that's the crowd-pleasing element that most people will remember as they leave. That doesn't change the fact that this is a hero's journey sandwich with a great separation and return and only flimsy meat of an initiation stage.