#its my first time doing sepia but i kinda like how it came out ^>^

[funkydancingdinosaur]

So @aliasrocket wrote a really good Victorian Rocket scenario and I drew something with that concept.

[bee-dot-exe]

Hey @totallynotbat, happy gift exchange day, I know we haven't talked much, but thanks for letting me write for you, I don't know this is exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you like it! And thank you @technoblade-gift-exchange for putting this together, also haven't talked a whole lot, but I appreciate you, I had fun! I hope you all enjoy!

Emerald

1,933

It's kinda sad, but it's also kinda sweet, no major warnings otherwise

A thin quilt covered the earth. Sections of saffron like the edges around a bruise, and burgundy trying to compete with a glass of wine, and sepia as the chlorophyll bled out with the final remnants of summer. A patchwork blanket of color like a kaleidoscope around and beneath me.

The occasional sector of basil melting into olive grass playing a game of peek-a-boo in the areas of earth where the blanket felt shy. Stray sticks of paper that lollipops once clung to and wrappers that once surrounded a piece of chocolate taking turns with the leaves in leading a waltz as the breeze lead its orchestra.

Dia de los Muertos.

Flyers with information on the day of celebration or stories made in spirit of the holiday were taped by the corners onto the sides of buildings or tacked onto signs made of oak or cork still hung from yesterday.

Posters with each island residents' face made with white paint to look like skeletons rested on pastel backgrounds, and were hung by two pieces of wood held together by a spring on rows of thick spiderweb and string, both of their ideal intended use was for holding clothes to keep dry, connected between two trees.

I let my feet guide me through the nearly ankle deep river of color, a series of rather satisfying crunches emitting from my path, which gradually changed to slabs of pastel blocks, which lead me to an archway that looked to be made of quartz.

Lanterns with flames dyed scarlet and lemon and cerulean hung on silver chains and rested overhead.

More banners made of spiderweb, with sections of cloth or perhaps tissue paper hung in the colors of the rainbow and then some, and supported by two thin stalks of wood which were placed on either side of the archway.

I walked through. There was a decoration every time I shifted my eyes or turned my head.

Lanterns, pots with flowers planted in them, flyers with short stories, a giant rainbow papier mâché amalgamation of animals.

I heard footsteps fade from crunching leaves beneath them to tapping as they reached the smooth surface of the pastel path. The person they belonged to coming up behind me and then standing at my side.

"Oy."

"How's it going, Fit?"

"Not bad, not bad."

"Heard I missed out yesterday, sorry about that."

"No worries, but yeah, hell of a day. Come on, I'll show you around."

Bits of tissue paper streamers were strewn about on the ground, some still dancing as they fell from the trees around us, occasionally getting caught in the branches on their journey.

A stray candy wrapper sometimes blew by like a tumbleweed, a few getting stuck in a group of leaves that had gathered in places around where the event was held.

"So I'm sure you heard about the eggs that stopped by."

"I did. Real shame I missed them."

"It is, and I know it's not the same, but you can visit their offrenda's over here, say hello, tell them you miss them, whatever."

"Lead the way, mate."

First we visited Juanaflippa.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and pink alliums lined up at the sides, and a few more pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so pink candles were settled on the steps, some inside of skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There was a shield, a few different swords, a couple of green apples, and some empty pink signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of her wearing her glasses sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Juanaflippa.

Hope you're doing well. I don't know if that was really you that came back to visit us, I think maybe this means probably not, but I don't know.

Your dad really misses you, we all do, but your dad's a bit of a mess right now, more so than usual. Things are a bit off for him, physically and emotionally, not gonna lie.

We all miss you so much. We miss your little glasses and your backflips.

I hope you're doing alright, wherever you are."

Next was Bobby.

His alter had rows of potted turquoise flowers along the sides, along with a few violet and red ones, and a handful of the aquamarine ones in pots scattered around the center.

A dozen or so royal blue candles sat on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were a couple of tridents, a gun, and some empty blue signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of him wearing his denim overalls sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey there Bobby.

Sorry I missed you yesterday. I hope you're doing alright.

Your parents miss you so much. I can tell your apa is sad sometimes, but he doesn't really show it, he doesn't show that side of him with anyone though, you're probably not all that surprised. He seems happy when he's with Cellbit though, you're probably not super surprised about that either. Your mom also gets kinda sad, but she's doing okay otherwise I think. Did you know she had wings? You'd like them.

We miss you, buddy. Your little dungarees and you giving us those blue flowers.

I hope you're doing good out there."

Then Tilín.

Her alter had rows of potted lilacs and some other red flowers along the sides, and some of the red ones in pots around the center.

A dozen or so crimson candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some feathers, a piece of cake, a block of dynamite, and some empty red signs.

In the center of the alter was a painting of them with that little red bow on top of her head sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hi Tilín.

Hope you're alright.

Your dad doesn't talk about you a lot, I'll be honest, but it's not because he doesn't care about or miss you, he just doesn't know how to show or talk about things sometimes.

But he misses you so much, we all do. Your little ribbon and giving us red flowers.

I hope you're okay out there."

And finally Trumpet.

His alter had rows of potted daffodils and some other red and yellow flowers, some of both kinds were also scattered in the center.

A dozen or so yellow candles were settled on the steps, some in skulls as a holder, most by themselves.

There were some books, a few spiderwebs, and some empty yellow signs.

In the center of the alters was a painting of him with his propeller hat sitting in a gold frame.

I took a piece of flint and steel and relit the candles that had become flickering sparks of orange and thin plumes of smoke.

"Hey Trump.

I'm really sorry I missed you yesterday. But you weren't alone. There were so many people here for you.

I heard that even your dad was here. I'm sorry not everyone was there for you before and if you felt alone, no one deserves that, no matter their age. You didn't deserve what happened to you.

We all miss you and your little rainbow propeller hat so much.

I hope you're alright wherever you are. I hope you're happy. I hope you never feel alone again."

"Oh, sorry Fit, to be honest, kinda forgot you were here for a minute there."

I said as I heard a throat clear behind me.

"No worries, no worries, didn't wanna interrupt anything, thank you for saying those things though, I think they needed it, I think you kinda needed it too."

"Yeah, that felt kinda nice, thanks for bringing me by."

"I uh, I actually have one more thing to show you, if you'll follow me."

"Yeah, I'm really glad I uh, oh---"

We walked up to a set of red wooden stairs. An alter. An offrenda.

And in the center was a painting in a gold frame of a person wearing a skull with tusks, had long pink hair, a fuzzy red cape with white at the neck, and a crown.

Technoblade.

"Oh my God, dude, really?"

Fit just slowly nodded.

We stood and stared for a minute.

"Hey Fit, could you do me a favor?"

I reached for the camera in its bag around my neck.

"Yeah I gotcha."

There were rows of different leaves and potted flowers in blue and red along the side, and a few red and pink flowers in the center.

There were about a dozen white candles, all of them were lit.

There was a diamond sword, an emerald, a totem, a skull, an ender pearl, a crown, and a potato around the painting.

"I gotta leave something, hold on, do you have an anvil by chance?"

"I gotcha covered."

Both of our voices shook slightly.

Fit put down the anvil and I made a name tag, Toothpick, which I put on a diamond pickaxe, and placed that on the step between the totem and sword.

"This was really nice."

"It was really thoughtful."

"They really didn't have to do this."

"Yeah."

"Can I ask you for one more thing?"

"Of course."

"Can I have a second alone with him?"

"Take all the time you want, buddy."

I heard the leaves crunch as Fit's footsteps retreated and sat down on the ground in front of the alter. I brushed my fingers along blades of grass and the petals of one of the pink flowers in a pot beside me. I finally let the tears stuck to my waterline fall.

"Hey mate.

Has it really been almost a year and a half? That feels impossible.

There isn't a moment where you aren't on my mind. You're on a lot of people's minds. You'd probably be flattered though, make some kind of probably sarcastic comment, prick.

Wish you came by yesterday, maybe you did, who knows. Wish I was there to see if you did or not. Wish you could hear me telling you this right now, maybe you can, it's probably not impossible.

Chayanne, that egg kid of mine you maybe have heard me talk about, your nephew. You're his hero. And he's so much like you. I wish you could meet him.

I honestly don't know which of you is better at pvp, you both can put up a fight until the last second, you're both stubborn as all get out, and you both could win.

And Tallulah, Wilbur's egg, she's been staying with me since he had to go do his music and things, she knows about and admires you too.

You'd go kinda soft on her, guaranteed, she'd win you over. She'd give you poppies and play you music and make you laugh.

We all miss you, so goddamn much, take care wherever you are, okay Tech?"

After the tears on my face had dried and it felt like it had been quiet for long enough, I put my hand on the bottom step next to the pick one last time as a send off, then went through the archway to find Fit.

[ebtks-reviews]

The Black Phone (2021)

Sink Spoilers for the black phone (2021)!

So I'll start off this review with my likes and end with my dislikes. First off, I definitely enjoyed the movie's feel and stylization. It is authentically late 70s and the use of sepia tones and soft film makes the film feel much older than it actually is. I'm in my early 20s so I cant exactly protest to its accuracy but from my limited experience, it feels about right. The story is also very 70s as well with a serial killer that likens itself to Ted Bundy.

It would surprise no one that the film was made by a son of Stephen King with its general vibes and reoccurring themes, why try to fix a formula that isn't broken? It dose lend itself to some predictablity but again, works fine. I love the acting, it feels genuine and the characters actually stood out enough in appearance and personality for me to remember their names! No characters felt unnessesary or padding and although I have one gripe, I'll save that for later. I loved the little sister and her tenaciousness never came off as comedic or too much. She's the perfect antithesis to the little girl in psycho goreman, enough spunk to make her funny and interesting but not so much it strays into straight up unnessesary meanness or over-acting. I also enjoyed the show of the dad being an abuser but also one with good intentions, even if his actions have led to unforgivable places. King has a history of making villians for the sake of villains and the father felt like a real person, a bad person, but a real person none the less.

Now we can talk about the negatives. I felt this movie had a lot of just... Boring moments. Just moments where nothing was happening. I felt like donna, Finney's crush, was really a nothing character and I wish the sister's psychic powers were either explained or utilized abit more but surprisingly, most of my gripe lies with something alot of people liked, which is the grabber. I have no criticisms for Ethan hawkes performance, he did amazing and the grabber feels like a realistic serial killer, big, strong and scary for what he's managed to get away with and accomplish but deep down is just a pitiful nerd who took his desire to hurt others too far by being unchecked. My gripe is that despite the dad being a minor antagonist, the causation of his evil is well thought out and realistic. We get no motive from the grabber. There's a few times where I could just barely make out a subtext of gayness and sexual assault, mostly from these incidents: him being almost naked when he wants to beat the boys, the fact he's only grabbing young boys fresh out of puberty, the fact he tells Finney he "won't do anything to him that he won't like", the fact he calls his motis operandi "naughty boy" and the similarity of his glasses to those of jeffery Dahmer, a famously gay serial killer who acted around that time. However, as a gay person myself, I don't consider these nessesarily enough to make that direct connection like I did with high tension (🤢), they just aren't explicit enough of a justification or the subtext of him being gay and repressed is so subtle, it flew past me despite my gaydar. Other than that, the grabber, his reasons, none of it is expanded upon as much I wish it were. He's not compelling to me completely cause despite all his scenes, I don't feel like we see him enough. The movie definitely could of benefited from us seeing the grabber in his daily life, like how he'd be with his brother, but instead, we only hear it kinda second hand and even then, we dont learn anything, there's barely a single sentence based in it. The movie would be improved, if only partially, by some more scenes with Ethan hawkes. The story definitely suffers a bit from being based on a short story and having a short run time, it feels like they weren't working with a lot of material or budget so it felt abit rushed despite the large sections of nothing happening down in the basement. It could of used a scene or two to break some it up, even if it's the main set piece. A location is great but there were many times the movie cut, I expected us to be somewhere else learning something else but it was just the basement from another angle and the start of a new scene there immediately after. A small gripe but one I noticed more on my second watch through rather than the first.

Outside of that, I generally enjoyed the movie, it's tone and i didn't find much of it to be too unrealistic or unbelievable. Despite the existence of the ghosts and their advice, the supernatural elements weren't over played, over helpful or carrying the movie. The kids got help, yes, but they still had to do things themselves, with all the danger of doing it alone. The ghosts were more moral support and advice than anything like psychic blasting the grabber to the shadow realm. The ending was satisfying and brutal without being over the top, even if I found myself wondering why the grabber would remain in that hole, even with the broken ankle. It felt earned and even made my gf cry so I gotta give it some points lol

All in all, 8/10 sinks. Very good, not the best horror I've ever seen by any means nor the most intriguing but, for what it was, it was interesting and enjoyable. I definitely suggest seeing this movie as a newer horror fan as it's not super jumpy, bloody, gorey or require a huge wealth of knowledge about previous horror to understand it. Very beginner friendly.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.19 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch has been through a lot in his short time in Backwater, but there's always the Dorothy option.

~~*~~

Read ‘The Dorothy Option’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

As much as things changed, they also stayed the same. But they still changed and there wasn’t a damn thing Stretch could do about it. He never could.

After Red cut him loose from the shop for the day, walking across the main street to the movie theater was the same, but the breeze cutting through the sweltering heat was different. A couple days ago, Stretch would have eagerly lifted his face into it, let it dry the sweat rolling from his skull and basked in the cooling effect.

Today it was a reminder that summer was actually ending, and autumn was creeping in one slow step at a time. He’d always liked the fall season since they came to the surface, there was no such thing in the Underground. But now that he knew what was coming with the end of the harvest season, it only made him a little sad. It wouldn’t be too long until the scarecrow pole in all the fields was empty.

Stretch paused outside the theater, looking back towards the shop and past it, to the forest behind it. He was too far away to hear the rustling leaves, still green and vibrant, untouched thus far by the changing season. He could still hear it somehow, like a leftover echo, the memory of that sound loud in his head as he turned back to the theater, the constant chatter of leaves scratching inside his skull.

The sound cut off like a stopped tape recorder as the door swung shut behind him. Igor was right inside, looking a lot like an out of work funeral director in his threadbare suit. He looked up from where he was sweeping dandruffy bits of popcorn into a pile and wordlessly went behind the counter to scoop out two cartons of fresher stuff. The dilapidated marquee over the concession stand had only one title on it. ‘The Wizard of Oz’.

“weren’t you playing this flick just a couple weeks ago?” Stretch asked curiously, handing over a fiver.

“Popular movie around here,” Igor told him, tonelessly. Yeah, okay, movies about Kansas and great farming fields, and wonderous unknown worlds where danger lurked. Wasn’t hard to see how people around Backwater could form a parallel to that, hell, there was probably a shrine to Judy Garland in every house on the street, set up with offerings of corn and tiny water buckets.

He looked down at the popcorn cartons that were sitting on the counter, the smell of fresh melted butter rising, and asked abruptly, “can i get a box of raisinets, too?”

Igor nodded and took back the single bill he’d laid down, the box of candy rattling loudly as he set it on the countertop.

Stretch took it and the popcorn and headed into the theater. What was that about, he wondered. He didn’t even like raisins. Maybe he’d take them back for Red.

The theater was empty, without so much as an abandoned soda cup in the aisles and the floor still swept entirely clean. So much for people loving this movie. Stretch sat down in the far back row with his popcorn and candy to wait.

Right on schedule, the lights went low, the MGM logo came up, and then with a swell of music Kansas appeared in a grainy sepia.

He’d seen the Wizard of Oz before coming to Backwater. The first time he’d seen it, they were still in the Underground and it was hard not to make the odd mental comparisons when they came to the surface. Now that he was here in this town, Stretch related to Dorothy more than ever. A stranger in a strange land, sure, but the scarecrow sidekick was pretty damn specific. Would Edgar Allen even know what the yellow brick road was? He was pretty sure the scarecrow in his life didn’t get out of his fields much, if ever.

Never going anywhere, never really living. He sat out there in fields with corn and crows for company, guardian and prison as one. Stretch wondered if that was as sad as his mind kept trying to make it or was he putting his own pathos on an anthropomorphic personification of a scarecrow. Maybe Edgar Allen was perfectly happy with his lot in life. Hell, maybe he was looking forward to the harvest season and a chance to rest without the corn chattering to him all the time, it was possible.

Thinking that made him feel a little better about the situation and Stretch sank back into his chair and munched on another buttery handful of popcorn.

He was so absorbed in the movie that at first, he didn’t notice the seat next to him was no longer empty. A blood-streaked hand reaching towards the other carton of popcorn was his first clue and Stretch bit back a yelp, soul hammering in his ribcage as he inwardly cursed himself for being so jumpy. Wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this before, loads of times now, it was what he bought the second carton for.

“hey, there,” Stretch said softly to his ghostly companion. “sorry it’s been a few days.”

“That’s all right,” Doris told him, her faint voice barely audible over the strains of ‘We’re off to see the Wizard.

The Tin Man was lamenting his lack of heart by the time Doris spoke again, tentatively and filled with quiet apology. “I’m very sorry, I feel as if I should know your name, but…”

Oh. Stretch closed his sockets briefly. Damn it, Red warned him about this, to not be surprised if she didn’t remember him. He didn’t allow the faint sting of hurt to show. It wasn’t her fault, it was entirely the fault of whoever had blown away part of her head and left her here to haunt a lonely, dilapidated old theater until it was time for her to go wherever ghosts did when they moved on.

Whoever it was that did this to her, stole her life and left her mostly alone in death, Stretch hoped they felt that sin clawing its way up their back long after they went to the hereafter.

“it’s okay, doris,” he said as gently as he could while Judy Garland danced across the screen, “it’s stretch, like a rubber band.”

“Yes! Stretch!” she laughed delightedly. She clapped her gloved hands together like a child. “Yes, that’s it. It was on the tip of my tongue when I saw you brought me popcorn, but I couldn’t quite shake it loose.”

No surprise there, half the time she didn’t have much tongue left.

She leaned in over her carton to take a deep, ghostly breath and twin streamers of blood ran from her nostrils. His appetite for popcorn faded and Stretch fumbled out the box of raisinets. The cheap milk chocolate barely masked the taste of the raisins and he grimaced, chewing gamely even though the texture always made him think of eating bugs. Dirt-flavored bugs in chocolate, who the hell came up with this so-called treat and were they appropriately punished for it. He could only hope.

They sat together in silence, watching the movie, and by the time the trio made it to the Emerald City, Stretch was squirming in his seat. Doris’s appearance broke the distracting spell of the movie and now his thoughts were wandering back to that morning and Edge’s sudden appearance in the store with so much worry on his pale face. Then there was that soft, unexpected kiss, so sweet against his cheekbone, a punctuation mark on the end of a silent paragraph and maybe he needed someone else to give it a read.

“doris, can i ask you something?”

She turned to him, the ruin of her head solidifying into a pretty young woman as she tilted it curiously. “Of course.”

“it’s kinda a long story.”

She folded her gloved hands primly into her lap. “I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

And that was her real tragedy, wasn’t it. She was tied to this crumbling old theater, unable to go where she needed to. He didn’t know what happened to ghosts once the building they were tied to was gone. But this place was on its last legs and if it closed, the cushions of empty seats rotting away and the silver screen silent, where did she go? He hoped it was someplace nice, a place where she could rest and always be beautiful, without bringing along the gory remains of her last minutes of life.

But they were working on his issues right now. “it’s about a guy.”

Doris brightened visibly and literally, going briefly more solid. “That Edge person you were speaking of before? The other skeleton.”

“yeah,” Stretch said, relieved. He hadn’t been sure how to bring up what they’d talked about before without making her feel bad for not remembering. “see, it’s like this—"

Doris sat and listened as he talked, as enthralled as she’d been when watching the movie. It was like last time when he’d came to ask her about Edgar Allen; she never flickered when she gave him the full weight of her attention.

It might be bad for the theater to have so many empty seats in the house, but it was good for people with the bad manners to talk over the movie. Stretch told her everything, didn’t hold back a thing. About meeting Edge in Red’s living room and his attempted lamp-ocide, about their impromptu lunch at Mama’s. About his brief starring role as little orange biking hood when he ventured to their cabin in the woods, about Frisk. The only thing he didn’t mention was the whole ‘me from another universe’ thing. That was a lot for even him to bend his mind around and his was still in one piece. Doris never interrupted, listened all the way to the end, until Stretch was nearly hoarse as he said, "…so what do you think?"

"Hmm. He certainly sounds charming, in a rude sort of way. My, it makes me think of Pride and Prejudice," she laughed softly. "Although your Mister Darcy showed his true nature far sooner in your tale.”

Thinking of Edge’s hips in a pair of those tight old-school trousers while he danced a waltz was not at all helping the situation and Stretch shoved that thought deep into a mental closet for later.

“but what should i do? he confuses me so much i don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt around him.” He slid down in the chair until his skull was resting on the back. “and then there’s red to think about, he’s done so much for me. he says he’s not worried about his brother, but…” Stretch trailed off and held up his empty hands.

She nodded thoughtfully. “But you don’t want to stir up trouble in their family, especially since it seems they already have some rough waters.”

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, tiredly. He knew something about stormy weather in a sibling relationship. The last thing he wanted to do to Red and Edge was bring in rainclouds of his own.

“I think you should talk to him,” she said at last. “Tell him what you’re feeling. It seems to me he’d listen to you and he wouldn’t…” Doris’s mouth moved but her words faded. Her pretty visage changed gruesomely, a full show of her shattered face and skull, the fragile bits of bone littered across one shoulder while blood filled the ruin of her eye socket.

Stretch swallowed hard and didn’t look away, waiting until she slowly returned to appearance of a lovely young woman who was finishing triumphantly, “…and who knows what will come of it after that!”

Okay, well, half an advice was better than none and he sure wasn’t gonna ask her to repeat herself.

So. Talk to him. Right. Not bad advice, maybe a little generic, but then, Doris didn’t know about his past history when it came to relationships. She also didn’t know that Backwater wasn’t a permanent assignment for him. He wasn’t too sure about bringing that up, not when it affected her, too. Maybe it would be better to let her forget him when he was gone; with her memory, she might not even realize what she was missing aside from the occasional wistful thought about a spare carton of popcorn.

But she wasn’t wrong, either. Much as he wanted to continue skipping through his life of avoidance, there was only one way he was going to get any real answers. Maybe it was time to figure out exactly where he and Edge stood. His sense of balance in life was pretty damn shaky as it was, and Backwater seemed to treat the laws of reality as more like suggestions. Why would the laws of gravity be any different?

Plus, there was another mystery Stretch was looking to unravel and he was already working on a plan for that. He owed some gratitude to a bony skeleton dragon in the woods and Stretch wasn’t keen on owing debts.

Doris folded her hands into her lap primly. “So? What are you going to do?”

“eh,” Stretch let out a little laugh, “something stupid.”

“Oh.” Doris pursed her lips. “Is it safe?”

“nope,” Stretch said cheerfully and poured himself out another handful of chocolate pseudo-bugs. “but i’ve stayed alive so far. may as well press my luck.”

On the screen, Dorothy was repeating her most famous line and he had to agree, there was no place like home. His only problem with it was that he was starting to get a little fuzzy on where exactly that was.

~~*~~

tbc

[park-jimin-isnt-real]

16 & 47 for the ask game! Hope you're having a great day/evening! :)

Thanks, I am! Just laying in bed, scrolling thru tumblr till I get sleepy 😴

Moon: what is your favorite aesthetic?

Paris. Like, vintage 1920s Paris. Sepia, black and white; misty streets glistening as streetlights are lit; accordion music can be heard echoing thru the alleys; day-old baguettes and decades-old wine; a small café with two tables outside covered by a blue awning; bicycle rides thru the streets...

I could go on, but I think you get the idea xD

So What: what was the first bts song you heard?

(There is a tl;dr at the bottom of this because this went from answering a simple question to "how I started stanning bts in the first place" so if you want you can just skip to that 💜)

I'm still a relatively new fan (as of June 12 this year), so my first song was "Dynamite", as cliché as it is. I actually heard it on the radio as I was driving home from work instead of listening to one of my spotify playlists. I remember just kinda bopping along to it, and thinking, "Wow, this is a really good song. Who's it by radio dj?" And just my luck, the radio dj came on after it finished and was like "that was Dynamite by BTS!" And I went:

"Wait... the Korean boyband?... They speak English?... Huh."

And then I carried on with my life. A week later (the fated June 12), my husband and I went to visit his family, and I remember that his sister (just a couple years younger than me) has been a BTS fan for a while (would later learn she's been an ARMY since 2018) so after we catch up with his parents I seek her out and go, "heeeeeeeeeeeeeey, i heard a bts song on the radio and i really liked it"

We talked for a minute and she asks me if I've seen the music video for Dynamite yet and I hadn't, so she shows me the music video and Kim Taehyung fucking wrecks me and I just look at her when it's done and I go, "I want more."

So we spend the next couple hours holed up in her room talking about all the bts things, and watching a few more music videos (Butter was next, then she showed me Blood Sweat & Tears and I remember at the part where Jin kisses the statue, saying out loud "Korea's weird" before again just carrying on) and a plethora of fancams she had saved over the years.

And THEN I remember, "Hey, wasnt there some kind of online concert of their your were gonna come over to our house and watch?" (The internet at my place is so much better than the internet at hers) and she says yes, its tonight, I have to stay up to 3am because of the time difference, and I go "...can I watch it with you?"

So we head back to my place (I leave my husband there, but it's fine lmao) and she brings with her the DVD of the Love Yourself Tour at Wembley that we can watch while we stay up waiting and OH MY GOD DIONYSUS BLEW ME THE FUCK AWAY I remember pausing it afterwards cause I was just SO SHOCKED like I get that the opening song of any concert has to be pretty big right, you gotta set some expectations but they went SO HARD SO FAST at the very beginning and my mind just could not handle it

God that was such a good concert

So 3am (or 3:30am I think it was) finally rolls around and I now have some expectations for this live little mini concert they're doing for this anniversary of theirs or whatever, and it was all well and good, I enjoyed myself, didn't understand a thing they were saying but thank god for captions, and they got to the end and were telling everyone "last song! Everyone get your phone flashlights out!" And then they started singing Mikrokosmos.

And I remember in that moment thinking, this was kind of stupid. No one's gonna see the lights, cause it's an online concert, and no one is physically there. But I had been looking up the translations of all the songs they'd been singing, so I could try to get a more in depth understanding of their music, so I pulled up the lyrics for Mikrokosmos.

And I started crying.

I could just imagine them in a real concert, a packed stadium, asking everyone to pull out their phone flashlight while they sang this song about how ARMY is the stars in their universe. And how they'd be on a stage just looking out at all these glowing lights, these shining stars, singing "You got me" and "I got you"

And I fucking cried.

Because that was the moment when I realized, this isn't just another boyband. This isn't even just another band. These 7 men genuinely love and care for each and everyone one of there fans. And to them, this little livestream was a real concert, and they were going to treat it as such, including asking everyone like they always had to turn on their light even if they couldn't physically see it. And they were probably imagining in their minds all those times they looked out to see a sea of stars glowing just for them,

And that was when I realized I was in this Bangtan shit for life.

TL;DR: Dynamite was my first song, followed by Butter, Blood Sweat & Tears, Dionysus, and finally Mikrokosmos.

[hiagainyou]

ღNice To Meet Ya!ღ

Bee was excited, at first, she always dreamed about traveling to Japan, and here she was!

Well, she was a little bit more than excited really. She still felt like she was walking on cloud nine when she stepped off the plane and into the terminal, her backpack nestled lightly on her shoulders as she went to go find her luggage.

 What she wasn’t expecting was a rush of overwhelming anxiety to hit her out of nowhere.

 It happened as she sat down at a nearby bench, clinging to her luggage with a vice-like grip as she idly looked at the sights around her as well as doing a little bit of people watching to past the time.

 She was alone.

 She had no family here.

 No one to relate to.

 She hadn’t even considered the obvious language barrier between her and everyone else.

 Completely and utterly independent, if you could call it that.

 She didn’t know why she hadn’t considered it before. Granted, winning a lottery to go to one of the best hero schools would have anyone distracted until they landed.

 Or was that just her?

 She fiddled with the afro-puffs in her hair, fluffing them out nervously as she waited for her guide to come and get her.

 What if they never came?

 Did they know what she looked like?

 What if she flunked out of UA? What would she do then?

 Her quirk wasn’t anything special, not for fighting anyways, but she could see herself as a rescue hero of sorts.

 Or maybe a walking talking light bulb was more like it?

 She pulled out her phone and scrolled through it mindlessly once she drew her pattern to unlock it.

 Should she call her dad?

 Lament to him about her increasing anxiety about being 6,778 miles, thanks Google, from home and how this was stupid or how she was probably gonna either drop out or flunk?

 That didn’t sound too bad actually, it sounded like a normal conversation they would have.

 Before she could tap on the green call button, she heard her name being called.

 She lurched her head up, looking side to side nervously.

 Was she imagining it? Oh God, was she hallucinating?

 Could nerves do that to you?

 “Hi, are you Bee?”

 Maybe staring blankly at the person who addressed you by name like you couldn’t wrap your head around basic human interactions wasn’t the best response. But, Bee wasn’t the brightest person in the room.

 Well, not metaphorically.

 “Oh yeah, I’m so sorry! My brain froze the moment you called my name. I thought I imagined it at first. No one ever gets it on the first go.”

 The kind smile the woman gave all but melted her into a formless heap on the floor.

 “I know how you feel. When I first traveled here, a representative of my new agency had come to greet me, and my expression was the same as the one you just gave me.”

 The woman laughed to herself. It fell from her lips like notes from a soft piano solo, delicately accompanying her gentle frame.

 “So, you’re a Hero?”

 “Oh, yes! I didn’t even introduce myself, how rude of me.” The woman cupped Bee's small hands in her warm, slightly bigger ones, the smile etched on her face never faltering for even a second. “My name is Bellamy Reigns, I work as the support hero Flo here in Japan, it’s nice to meet you.”

 Their handshake was brief but firm, she only hoped to God that her hands weren’t as "clammy" as they usually were.

 She couldn’t help how warm she always was.

 “Are these all your belongings? I know you just got here, you’re probably going through some stages of jetlag but I can help you with that, right now we need to drop your stuff off at your new apartment and get you to your first day at UA.”

 Bellamy clasped her luggage and made a beeline for the entrance of the airport, Bee trying desperately to keep pace with her and also avoid bumping into the people passing by her.

 “Oh, this is sooo exciting! You’ll love it here, I promise! Ah, you remind me of when I was your age, so ready to be on my own and face the world. Only to call her parents in a panic because she didn’t know her right from her left she was so nervous!”

 Bellamy gave her an encouraging smile when she met her gaze as she glanced over her shoulder, receiving a timid smile in return.

 “Flo, so nice of you to join us, what happened this time?”

 A woman with cocoa brown skin, thunder cloud grey hair, and pumpkin orange hues dressed in simple business attire stared holes through the pair as they approached UA’s front gate.

 An hour behind schedule.

 “I was getting her settled into her new apartment and we lost track of time, that and our cab here was late.”

 The woman’s stare got heavier.

 “All I hear is excuses Reigns, why didn’t you drive your car here instead? You drove it to the airport, didn’t you?”

 “You know I don’t have the car right now Ami- “

 “And so, you still didn’t plan accordingly?”

 She began to tap her foot in annoyance.

 “You have to take more responsibility with your job Reigns, I’m honestly surprised they haven’t fired you yet.”

 “It wasn’t her fault, if anything, I’m the one that distracted her with all my hero-worship. And so what if we were late? You’re acting like the world was gonna end if we didn’t get here on time. You don’t have to be so rude about it.”

 Bee huffed at the woman, crossing her arms to mock her pose.

 The icy glare the woman gave her in return almost made her heart flatline. All the confidence she had mustered drained from her like emptying bathwater, causing her to slink behind Bellamy pitifully.

 “Her tie isn’t even on correctly.”

 “She wanted a bow tie.”

 “And you let her? Bellamy, you’re an adult, start acting like one.”

 “Having a bow tie isn’t a big de- “

 The woman brought her hand up to silence Bellamy, Bee catching the way the air around them became so tense it was almost suffocating.

 “We’ll discuss this later, she’s late and you have a class to teach. Dump her onto Weylyn and get moving.”

 Bellamy sighed through her nose before giving the girl beside her a warm smile.

 “Come on sunshine, you have a class to catch.”

 They walked into the bustling halls to be greeted by two girls standing idly by the lockers.

 One had long, flowy sea-green hair that cascaded down her slim body and stopped an inch shy of touching the floor. The deep color complimenting her round sepia brown face and bringing attention to her gleaming sunset orange eyes.

 The girl to the right of her stood rigid and emotionless, posed like a dutiful guard ready to attack at any moment. Her thick, bushy bark colored mane silhouetted her intimidating frame as two soft brown ears jutted from the sides of her diamond-shaped face. Her deep forest green eyes boring into Bee's chestnut brown ones seemingly in anger.

 The girl with the green hair was the first to approach them, her face brightening as she swung her arms up in a welcoming gesture.

 “Hello! You must be Bee, right? It’s so nice to have finally met you! I’m Arlo Weylyn by the way and I’ll be your guide until you get settled into UA.”

 Arlo brought her into a tight hug before pulling back to meet her gaze, her hands resting comfortably on her shoulders.

 “Oh yeah, that’s me! And yeah, it’s really nice to have met you too Arlo and...?”

 Bee tilted her head to look at Arlo’s silent companion who stared back at her with disinterest before focusing on the woman behind her.

 “Oh, this is Selah. She's been dubbed my shadow as of late but, don’t worry about her. She means well, I promise. Oh! Mrs. Flo, I couldn’t help but notice that Downer was seeming, well down, for lack of better words, did something happen?”

 Bellamy perked up at the sound of her name, her warm smile settling back on her face again.

 “Amias is fine Arlo, don’t worry about it, okay? Could you get sunshine here to her class, please? She’s already late, and I wouldn’t want her to miss out on any more important lessons.”

 Arlo nodded as she ushered the girl toward her first-year class, which was thankfully English as of right now.

 On the way to the classroom the trio, more like just Bee and Arlo, had made idle conversation about where they were from. Arlo being born and raised in Colchester England, and how their quirks worked.

 “So, your quirk allows you to glow?”

 “Yeah. It’s pretty boring, I guess.”

 “No, it isn’t! Any quirk can be amazing if you put effort into reaching its full potential.”

 “Whatever boats you float.”

 Bee fiddled with the straps of her backpack as she looked up, catching the gaze of smiling blue eyes.

 Her stomach did cartwheels as she forgot how to walk, almost tripping over her feet and getting up close and personal with the floor.

 Her stomach dropped into the Earth’s core as the owner of the blue eyes came closer, smile rivaling the sun with how bright it was.

 To be honest, he was probably rivaling her with how bright she must have been glowing. She just really hoped she wasn’t blinding anyone.

 He stopped in front of her and began to speak excitedly. His words zipping past her face like an arrow from an experienced archer.

 With all these people speaking English, she had completely forgotten about the blaring problem of a language barrier. Looking at Arlo almost pathetically for help.

 They had talked back and forth for a while as she stood there confused. Arlo gesturing to Bee periodically and the guy smiling even wider, if that were possible, with every word that fell from Arlo’s glossy lips.

 “Bee, this is Togata Mirio. He’s really happy to meet you, he says, and is hoping you two become friends.”

 Bee stared at the boy standing in front of her, noting how his soft blue eyes and blonde hair kinda reminded her of Lucas from Smash Brothers.

 Holding back a laugh, she brought her hand up to shake his, putting on her best smile for him.

 “It’s nice to meet you too, Mirio!”

[ellisimis]

all of them

oH BOY OKAY THEN

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

actually pretty good! i gained a lot of clarity on some things!! i only do one word answers i’m sorry

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

big smiles, and laughter, and sitting with people without needing to say anything and just enjoying someones company

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

i... honestly have no clue lol i just kinda eat what i want when i want

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

i don’t really have a guilty pleasure o:

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

IAMX!! like just listen to this

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

....asleep

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

my family def, i love ‘em

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

i don’t even know if anyone i know would consider me a friend oh no

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

spring or summer!!

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

probs edit or play wayhaven or mess around in blender atm

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

yes!! my family <3

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

relaxing evenings, i am NOT a morning person, although i try :c

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

i wAS rewatching Code Geass but then wayhaven came out and Nothing Else Exists

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

i honestly don’t know lmaO

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

anything my sister paints! c: she’s talented lol

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

i like all animals o: although i remember one time someone said i was like an owl so i guess??

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

i tend to like subtle accents~~

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

has never had an so if theY’RE NICE I GUESS

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

i don’t have one~~ unless fictional guys count cause oH BOY

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

idk maybe like. actually holding a conversation lmaO

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

gotta get through the first one hehe

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

probs not but like. i’m an awkward mess so i don’t know think that’d go well anyway

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

WAYHAVEN BOOK 3 BABY

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

was visiting a friend once and she was showing us around the area and we were driving and on one side was a cliff going up and on the other was a cliff going down and there was reALLY TURQUOISE oceans and pretty sand and i  was all hoLY SHIT

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

hell yeah the other day some folks were really nice and accommodating with my slow ass

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

i was shopping with my sister. my dreams are so mundane, its great

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each?

oh gOD I’D LOVE SOME PETS

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

mmm rose

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

doesnt drink tea

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

gardens are a horror fest cause i’m tERRIFIED of snails

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

probs not, thats a lot of pressure and shit

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

tiny

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

clear skies, birds singing, green grass and bUGS OH NO

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

hell yeah its getting more and more comfy~~

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

i wanna go everywhere tbh but like. if i had to choose maybe like ireland, croatia & tahiti

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

unfortunatelyyy i only speak english :c i’d love to learn more tho

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

i.... don’t read as often as i should oop

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

probs the first pirates of the caribbean for nostalgia’s sake

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

eaTING SOMETHING

umber; have you drank enough water today?

probs not tbh

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

that’d be my mum she’s great

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

1.Mason

2. Mason

3. Mason

4. Mason

5. Mason

i got it bad lmaO

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

soMEONE RECENTLY SAID THEY HAD A PASSING THOUGHT OF ‘WOW THAT ELLI IS A NICE PERSON’ AND I PRACTICALLY CRIED

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

i’d like to think its kind of classy. at least i try to have a slightly classy vibe alongside spoop

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

Ya know what okay then, if you made it this far imma post an old one

[thank-you-phipps]

Review: The Hating Game by Sally Thorne

So, I’m on my third of fourth reread, and it’s held up well over time. I was in a pretty shitty mood today, so it’s had its work cut out for it, battling all my negativity, which tends to manifest in intense distrust of this sort of book. I’m thinking the cynical mood will help to balance out the blinding heart eyes and give an objective perspective. 

When I first read this book I thought I’d found the holy grail, and though there have been a few books after that that have taken the cake, I still think it’s wonderfully written and it has basically none of my usual rom-com pet-peeves, which makes it easy to like.

That being said, this book doesn’t try hard enough. I know this isn’t literature. I don’t expect to be tossed about so much as by Jane Eyre wandering the moors, putting her faith in nothing but God Himself; but the sheen has worn off rather quickly for a book that once held pride of place in my heart. I mean, Red, White, and Royal Blue is a rom-com through and through, but I can hardly read the emails for how heart-wrenching and raw they are, so it’s not the genre’s fault. 

My main problem, which wasn’t immediately clear to me after I’d read it again, is that there’s not much of a plot or any kind of conflict at all. It’s pretty up-hill the whole ride, and even though they are “mean” to each other for a lot of the book (I’d classify this enemies-to-lovers), there is no real threat of any meaningful harm being done to there relationship, however caustic it may seem on the surface. You know they’re just flirting, albeit kinda antagonistic flirting. Of course you root for them, but at some point banter isn’t enough. As I’ve said, there’s basically no plot, and though I’m a decided rom-com light-skirt, when, for all intents and purposes, the whole book is the hooey gooey precious cuddles, the soft stares, the love words, or the antagonistic sexual tension, then the quality of the romance takes a hit. From what I can tell, the “climax” was Lucy finding out that Josh and Mindy were together a long time ago, and she feels insecure. That is quickly gotten over, though, and a hot sex scene is queued up ready to go. No big deal. Well, if the author doesn’t want too much conflict stemming directly from the romantic pair themselves, fine, but they’ve got to make up for it with conflict elsewhere, or else what am I here for? You can’t keep me on the hook if you just keep feeding me sweets. Now that the novelty has worn off, I had to shoulder all the work, trying to imbue myself with some sense that there are stakes involved and some reason to get attached to the story when there wasn’t really a whole lot to keep me invested besides her feminine wiles and his cutting whit. You gotta make me suffer a bit. You can’t rely on the characters alone to carry the romance. It always helps to develop a romantic pairing when they are forced to play with the world the author has created (e.g. The Soldier’s Scoundrel, and The Lawrence Brown Affair, both by my lady love, Cat Sebastian, to whom I’ve sold my immortal soul.) and that’s what I found most lacking

This is all thrown into unflattering relief by the holy undeserved overabundance of sap. Now that I’m looking at it with more objective familiarity (not a good mindset if you’re wanting to actually enjoy a  romantic comedy) Josh’s ministrations at the end of the book especially felt over the top. Don’t get me wrong, I still go a little starry-eyed. Sally does a superb job at love talk, making it original to boot, and I was emotionally masturbating to this emotion porno of epic proportions. But if you’re going to serve me that good, you’d better make your characters suffer to balance the scale. I’m more likely to let myself enjoy that kind of over the top confessional stuff if it’s in some historical romance a la Lisa Kleypas, where I’ve already thrown out my dignity with the bathwater. But this is a real life rom-com (…oxymoron…) where the romance takes place in world whose inhabitants should be self aware enough to call bullshit. I mean, come on. There is literally a sepia-filter road trip montage scene. It’s jarring when you’re trying to enjoy something good (despite my critiques), but you’ve put it in this gaudy picture frame and you can’t help questioning it’s value. Couldn’t you have at least tried to make it seem a little more down to earth, so the negligible chance of this ever happening in the real world aren’t rubbed in my face with quite so much heartless glee? You could have made it just as poignant and also made it feel realistic. Would have pack more of a punch that way. 

Anyway, one huge point in her favor: Sally does a fine job of making Josh masculine without resorting to alpha male-ism, which I suppose many authors find difficult (Looking at you, Kleypas). Lucy is cute and actually has a personality, but it irritated my that she objectified Josh as much as she did. It’s something I noticed in 99 Percent Mine, Sally’s second book, in which the objectification of the male love interest made me feel a bit ill. It started out so promising and then the romantic pair were together for a few pages and I had to stop. I’m all for the main characters taking pleasure in each other’s bodies, but the way Lucy was practically drooling over him when it came time for that, turned me off. It sounded as though she wasn’t really paying Josh himself any attention, and there was a literal scene in which she's squeezing and weighing is muscles in her hand. Gross. I’m hyper sensitive to this particular quirk in romance, and I think Sally does a good job overall of cancelling those blips out with comments on the other end of the spectrum, but it still rankles.I will say that it’s not nearly as pronounced as in 99 Percent mine. 

I know this review is negative on the whole, but keep in mind, I’ve read this book four or five times, so it must being doing something right. It’s one of the better rom-coms by a long shot, and I’m sure I’ll read it again in another few months and eat it up shamelessly. Just didn’t have much patience today.

[arecomicsevengood]

Stuart Immonen Superman Comics Circa 1998

There’s a lot of “best of the year” lists that appear at the end of the year, but after that flutter of activity, tied to commercial imperatives, there are moments for reconsideration, as we approach the year to come and ask ourselves what it is we want. So now is as good a time as any to talk about some Superman comics Stuart Immonen drew some twenty-odd years ago. The artist announced earlier this year that he was “retiring” from comics, but this didn’t mean he was going to stop making comics, just that what he did would be “personal” work, in collaboration with his wife. They recently launched a comic on Instagram, and they’ve done some graphic novels together previously, none of which I can recommend.

I do think it’s interesting that these personal works are scripted by his wife, rather than him writing them himself, though; because back in the nineties, working for DC, he took a few stabs at writing. This was done within a framework that must’ve removed some of the risk involved: The four monthly Superman series that together constituted a weekly serial split between different creative teams had him drawing Karl Kesel’s scripts for a few years before he took over a separate title for his own. In my mind, much of the overall plotting would be hashed out at a conference, and then kept coordinated by an editor. Ideally this process would be oriented around what it was each individual creative team wanted to write and draw: Immonen’s artwork was a little softer than his compatriots, a little more likely to seem like he could’ve drawn romance comics in a different era, maybe younger than the others and more interested in youth culture and fashion, probably more likely to admire Jaime Hernandez. Maybe all this just manifests in the context as being the one who could draw women, but in a era where none of the Superman comics are showy about what they do and all aspired to being solid and well-crafted, his were the most enjoyable.

This softness I appreciate in this work isn’t really present in his subsequent work, which is sharper, shinier, where figures and their wardrobes seem consistently sculpted out of plastic. Part of it’s the coloring, but there also seem to be changes in how scripts call for layouts. He’s also maybe working with ink wash underneath the digital coloring and delineating more how he wants values of light to be approached, I don’t know. I don’t really want to diminish the work the man’s been doing in the years I haven’t been reading superhero comics. I can look at the years of intervening work and see how the choices he’s making are confident ones, the result of years of drawing action comics. I haven’t really read any of them, but that’s not to say I wouldn’t.

Still, if you’re anything like me, you probably generally think that comics created by one person are better than those made in a collaboration mediated via a written script, so if I’m going to read anything by the guy, it’s going to be work created under those circumstances. I’ve heard that DC sort of has structures in place against writer-artists: this is why those “Bizarro World” anthologies where they brought in alternative cartoonists forced them all to collaborate with each each other. Maybe this rule was a little looser with the Superman books: After John Byrne relaunched the line in the mid-eighties, both Dan Jurgens and Jerry Ordway would write and draw chunks of their subsequent runs. Otherwise it’s pretty rare: The only other thing I can think of would be that Rick Veitch Swamp Thing run, the circumstances of its ending probably be why they don’t let that happen too often. A little after Immonen and Kesel did the event The Final Night, Immonen wrote and drew a 4-issue miniseries spotlighting the Legion Of Super-Heroes character Inferno. It’s not good or anything, but it does seem to revolve around the strengths or interests I understand him having at this time: It’s a comic about a young woman, hanging out in the mall with a group of other young women, who might be understood as punks, as some are homeless. Before Immonen worked for DC, his initial small-press work, Playground, made in collaboration with his future wife, was described in “punk rock” terms. He states in the Inferno letter column his goal was to make something someone who didn’t read other DC Comics could read and enjoy. I don’t think it gets anywhere near being able to achieve that, it’s confusing on multiple levels. The covers are probably the most memorable part, but because you can track those down easy enough, I’ll include a bit of interior sequential art.

Not long after that, he took over writing Action Comics. I haven’t read that many of those either! I had stopped reading the Superman comics regularly not long before this happened. It was during the time period when Superman had electric powers and a blue costume. I was in middle school. I found out he’d started writing when I found a couple issues in a bargain bin and picked them up, but I didn’t get back in the habit of reading Superman comics, as the story was pretty difficult to follow if you attempted to only read the series with the best art. He also didn’t really work as a writer for that long: After a little while, Mark Millar gets credited for providing scripts.

But a little while back, around the time I wrote that post about why I’m willing to read superhero comics with some degree of hope that they’ll be good, I ordered a three-issue arc that seemed kind of self-contained. Looking online, it seemed like after the whole “electric Superman” story wrapped up with a special called Superman Forever, each of the four monthly books told their own stories, set in different historical eras, for a few months. Immonen’s Action Comics issues had covers suggesting they were united in progressing from one to the other. I was pretty into them, though in some ways it was an unsatisfying experience. The first issue in the arc is drawn by a fill-in artist, the third part focuses on this separate narrative thread- It’s narrated by this new villain, with god-like powers, who I guess was behind the whole “multiple timelines” thing in the first place, so you there’s exactly one fairly self-contained normal Superman comic written and drawn by the dude, though that third issue kinda rules, as aside from the narration, you’re reading all the normal Superman storytelling stuff happen wordlessly, calling attention to the clarity of the storytelling. It might fail to live up to expectations for a third act based on the way serialization has it setting up the next big arc, but as an episode in itself, this would be a pretty fun surprise to come across in your pile of the week’s comics. Which, if you remember that post, was exactly what I claimed to be looking for.

There’s also an original graphic novel that’s a little later still, “End Of The Century,” which seems like it’s partly tying up a long-running subplot in the Superman comics about Lex Luthor and his wife. It honestly has WAY too much plot, and too many narrative threads, and it’s all still fairly generic. While I picked it up hoping to see cool visual storytelling, the amount of story there is to tell gets in the way. The visual art is good, Immonen’s linework shifts to be a little finer. There’s also this weird thing where real images are photographed/scanned and inserted like they’re laying on the edges of the page, which is dumb, but the technology to achieve this effect was probably only recently made available. There’s also some sepia painted pages, and the most likely reason the “graphic novel” exists is because Immonen wanted to do the painted pages and have the time to work on them. That’s as good a reason as it is to try writing comics for a few years because you’ve drawn them for a few years and writing doesn’t seem hard and you would get paid more, and reasoning resulted in work I thought was better than what you usually get.

Ambition is a wild thing, in that it can really just stir inside you feeling frustrated even as you have no idea what you want to do with it in particular. It can easily be applied to other people’s ends. Work might be personal not because of the importance of what “the artist” has to say but because it’s an outgrowth of a personal relationship. It’s worth noting, looking at his career, the importance of cultivated professional relationships: He had those comics scripted by Mark Millar, and decades later they did a comic together which has probably resulted in a development deal and a sizable paycheck. He did two creator-owned comics with Kurt Busiek, largely forgotten I’d say, and then worked with him on a Superman comic which is pretty well-regarded. He’s collaborated with both Warren Ellis and Brian Bendis multiple times. It is sensible to view all those professional relationships as having had their respective culminations, while working with one’s wife is more of an ongoing long-term project.

At the same time: Having someone write for you, and what they see as your skillset, is going to present different challenges than seeing what you can do and pushing yourself, even if the latter results in what can be easily described as failure. It’s fine either way. Career paths in the arts are always going to be weird and haphazard, because there are so many decisions to make in creating a piece of art that progress is never going to be linear. I don’t know if any of these collaborations embraced what I like about his work, but maybe what I like in his work isn’t what he sees as his strengths, but is just what was emblematic of his style at the point in time I was initially exposed to it. The questions of who we are in relationship to others vs. what our true potential is is always up for negotiation.

I think those Superman comics excel because I came to them with very particular set of expectations. Not only can I not expect anyone else to share those expectations, I don’t even really want to convince anyone to have them: There’s no small part of me that thinks of the fact that I tracked them down to write about them is in some ways squandering some bit of potential inside myself I can’t expect anyone else to care about. I don’t know what 2019 looks like, though I hope I won’t spend too much of it looking back twenty years at comics from 1999. I don’t like doing this thing where I try to make something “personal” to rationalize my talking about some some comic while actually just talking in vague generalities because I’m very reticent to talk about myself, but I’ll probably continue to do so. I’m probably not going to spend the next year looking at Stuart Immonen’s Instagram feed. But here at the end of this year, as I contemplate my own inertia and depressive laziness, I have to give an honest accounting and give it up to that dude for putting in the work.

[lockewoodandco]

Crossover is Bad

This is not a gr8 review, i’m just throwing my thoughts down after first watch (cause hell no im not watching it again and i have no patience to even torrent it for a review i don’t have my full faith in cause im not actually a reviewer). I’m also not jewish so this won’t go into depth about how they handled that cause i don’t actually know anything more than the history aspect. 

I should also mention that even though I riff on the writers a lot, I doubt it’s all their fault. Although this whole thing can basically be summed up by I Complain But Also Give Everyone The Benefit Of The Doubt so you know, make your own opinion. I don’t know everything and if you do, you’re lucky. Impart to us your wisdom, maybe. 

also shout out to the first time I have an opinion on tumblr.

if its not apparent already, spoilers.

Crossover is Worse Than You Think

First order of business, let’s get through the problems with the mechanics of the show before we go into the fact that the whole premise is Bad.

 The way everyone just... appeared? Bad. you have all these writers and none of them can think of a way to explain absences and appearances? If you’re working with so many characters, that should be your first order of business. Assign certain people to keep track of certain character if you have to. Why aren’t certain characters at the wedding scene? (*cough* RAY) Why was Mick at the wedding when anyone in their right mind would expect it to cause more problems than it did? Why didn’t Mick bring Ray or Amaya? Despite his grumbling, I would think it would have made sense if Ray was asked to be Mick’s +1, as Ray would be the perfect buffer, and given their history as acknowledged on screen, it would show how far their friendship has come especially after Ray disappeared during their trust fall. Also, why weren’t all the legends invited? Why wasn’t all of team arrow invited? Why wasn’t all of team flash invited? Dibny? gone. did they even invite him? are you telling me he didn’t clock in at all when there were very obvious Nazi’s literally swarming? what is his excuse?

the problem is, these characters have no excuses for being absent. No one mentions why Dibny is awol, no one mentions “oh, [character] couldn’t make it” or “[character] is [possibly comics throwback]”. When some characters just magically appear halfway through like “oh, we were just waiting for you to call even though we gave no reason for us not to know about the nazis especially since we already seem completely briefed.” no mention of a previous anachronism or baddie they were busy doing while most people were at the wedding. Nothing like “we just got back fighting [baddie/in year] and now we gotta punch some nazi’s.” where was everyone? apparently just waiting offscreen for their turn to kick ass. 

another missing character that definitely should have been invited; Hartley Rathaway. there's not a single mention of him. he’s good now!!! where is he!!!! I want a scene where cisco sneaks away and calls him up like, “i know you and barry are awkward considering everything but he invited you so i think you should be here!!!” have Andy call in his roll, maybe have someone shoot a sound thing off screen and think it’s canary when it definitely isn’t! This man still exists in canon as a friend of team flash, at least mention why he couldnt make it!!!!! 

I’m not that great! I don’t know shit! I’m an amateur writer barely making it through writing his first book! But I do know that instead of humanizing Nazi’s with love, you could have spent a little more time fleshing out the world your main characters are in. i mean seriously. bringing in just a mention of hartley rathaway? Bam. a question everyone’s been asking is answered AND your universe feels more real by the fact that this character is now probably doing something completely independent of any storyline.  there are ways to use these characters even when their actors are not available. you own the rights to use these characters!!! the actors dont own them!!! they arent automatically off the table, especially cause a lot of them have masks on, put them in a background shot my dude! like i said before, you don’t even have to have any part of them or their costume on screen to show they still exist! this! is! not! news! this is working with what you got, and you got a lot more than you think you do! if you actually don’t have the power to do that, then you must have the worst contract negotiator known to mankind. 

that was longer than i anticipated me going on for, but next problem: Leo

once again, appeared out of nowhere, this time in a fully populated area where he should have come barging in, obvious signs of cold chaos behind him, probably moving quite similar to his counterpart. maybe give barry more of a shock, instead of just a look of, “oh, he’s nice this time, thats kinda unexpected.” why? cause it’s not unexpected. not for Barry at least. 

you know what i dont buy? aloof Leonard Snart. Sure, it makes a good act, but is it one that Leo would hold up next to Mick? especially when he seems to drop it for his boyfriend. Do you really think that Leo would not notice the way Mick refers to him, and not try to give him some form of comfort besides a passing sentence that feels like the equivilant of “get over it.” they both lost each other, leo may not be as close to his mick as mick was to len, but we already know that Leonard Snart is far from emotionally stunted, his last iteration was full of emotion and you can tell that this Leo is the same, if not even more, so where even a single second of understanding before the scene cuts. It feels like you did this to address a fan concern, without seeing it as your concern. guess what? it is your concern! why? cause its a loose thread, and it was pointed out for a reason. The script is getting on the level of a daytime soap my dude. whatever internal problem is causing this lack of quality, it needs to be addressed. And don’t let me hear about it cause I don’t want to know! I just want to see it improved! 

A bit of good that came from that scene, Mick struggling to figure out how he should verbally react to the way he died on Earth X. 

Also, giving Len a boyfriend, pretty good. i have nitpicks but they arent important to this.

Alex

Sex is not character development! If you gotta have it, it should have been after the heart to heart with Sara! I do get it to a certain extent though, but the way it’s handled leaves a lot more to be desired. you get this pickup to a good minor plot that just can’t be completed. I can’t even see how this helped Sara grow as a character in any way, even though it was probably supposed to be about seeing damien darhk again and dealing with him, but you don’t hear that! Just a little line about Laurel. Minor complaint, they missed out on mentioning Sara also has the whole, my sister has an evil doppelganger thing, Although I don’t think she knows so I’m mourning the loss of the impossible on this one. Circumstantial humour there. 

The Ray

have we seen him before? on any dctv show? I dont know! i have no clue! He looks familiar but I even googled it and nothing! (doesn’t help that he shares a name with Ray Palmer) He’s supposed to be from Earth 1, right? Where is he! please tell me, I wanna know. He looks familiar but I could just be giving you the benefit of the doubt! you can’t just be like “oh he’s also from earth 1″ and just leave it there. How? And then he doesn’t stay and I doubt that the rest of the team really cares but I care! i care a lot!

also, why is Eobard Thawne the same Eobard? i mean, I forgot how much i enjoyed Tom’s performance as Eobard, good on you, you almost got me distracted, but like, he cant just (say it with me guys) appear. also, he has no motivation! cool! i hate it! the only thing i could possibly think of is he just wants to see his earth again but also he hates the time period so what!!! literally just make him a different Eobard! you don’t need to explain why his face is Tom because you already explained that Earth X is just Earth 1 with Nazis! (which um, also time doesn’t work that way, especially with mass genocide and jewish characters)

with leads me to my next problem!

time doesn’t work that way, especially with mass genocide and jewish characters!!!

also, you mean to tell me in a world where everything’s the same except nazi’s, that Kara Zor-El did not immediately rage against the machine, especially if the who earth looked like a burning sepia photograph. also, dead bodies! same on any planet! She’s gunna freak! you can’t escape death and wholeheartedly accept genocide like that! not without a very good reason. really, instead of giving kara/x a dumb love thing, maybe make it about what shaped each of their beliefs despite coming from the same beginnings cause once again, it was established that everything’s the same except nazi’s, so krypton still died. and since you gotta shoehorn arrow in Bad Town, make it an unrequited love! cool! Cause Nazi’s portrayed on tv don’t deserve happiness! Sadly I can’t stop actual Nazi’s from finding love! Wish I could! Also why is Oliver the weak link when he’s the Fuhrer? its dumb, really dumb. also, Overgirl’s death is dumb, especially since it should have killed Kara as well. Basic logic says if a blast kills your doppelganger and you’re pretty close to next to them (guessing that Kara was able to escape a ways even though they were shown to be basically next to each other) you’re going to get more than a little falling action.

Also, you know what happens to jewish characters (and basically anyone who’s not a cis straight aryan at that point) on Earth X? pretty fucking obvious. You know what happens when you lose that much of a population and try to compare it to an earth without that loss? You realize you lose a lot more than you think, and a lot more things change. you probably don’t even have to think about it that hard, someone’s probably already done that thought experiment!

Here’s one I gotta shoehorn in,

Joe mentions the fact that Iris and Barry are both his children in a speech when they’re about to get married. Heres an option: Dont! Say how much he enjoyed seeing them grow up together without mentioning any familial bond that connects the two people getting married. Cool! You know why? Crossovers pull in new viewers! Also Supergirl has a younger audience! These! People! Don’t! Know! Any! Better! 

Killing a Canon Jewish Character in an Episode about Nazi’s

There’s no way to paint this in a way that’s not shitty, especially when he didn’t have to die. You could have let him go back to his family. I can’t imagine what the thought process for this was. Shock value?! I don’t know. Maybe, because everyone expected Victor’s end to be Stein going home to his family. If it was, this really wasn’t the episode to do it in.

Next Up! Nazis!

Not good! Trying to backpedal and make your main villains have a non-nazi-ish reason for conflict? Worse! Nazi’s don’t deserve sympathy! They aren’t just a group of people in history! They’re a group of people in history who advocated for and took part in the absolute slaughter of millions. The numbers I checked agree it was near a billion when you include beyond just those who were jewish. What makes it worse is that this stain on human history has not died out. Sure, we all love punching Nazi’s, but as I understand, theres a lot more to it than that. Now we get into the part where my expertise lacks. As I understand it, one of the biggest problems in the comics is jewish coded heroes fighting as Nazis. How well did they avoid this? I don’t know! Someone please add to this! I want to know! 

So, if I hated the crossover, why did I watch it?

The flippant answer is that i hate-watched it. watched it for the sole purpose of leaving a bad review. That’s not really the reason. If it was, why would i complain on tumblr of all places? i think the real reason was that I just had to know. I just wanted to give the dctv the benefit of the doubt because I love the flash so much, and that love ends up extending through a lot of the other shows and characters, and I wanted to trust that even though the whole premise was Bad, that they had a handle on it. I keep coming back because I’ve grown attached to these characters so much, leaving feels like leaving a part of me. But that’s just me, a lot of other people have their reasons for staying, and a lot of it is no longer about the quality of the show itself. It means we’re all holding on by our fingernails desperately trying to hold on to that magic or pretend it hasn’t faded. Eventually we’re going to let go. What does that mean for the show? Are they just going to lose a small portion of fans, or a whole sector? How many are going to find the changes better than the previous season and take our place? I dont know! i live in an internet bubble my dude! Tumblr isn’t great for gathering analytics! All I know is, bad writing doesn’t make or break a cw show. It’s the cw, I mean what do you expect? I signed up for this, i made my bed, i’ve chosen to lie in it, I can get up whenever i want, its just a matter of when because some day, I’m going to get fed up. You might have my view for a little while longer, but you won’t have my confidence, you won’t have my support.

[mint-sm]

LOS CAMPESINOS! REVIEW/ANALYSIS: Romance is Boring

Let’s talk about a word for a minute: Tryhard.

In an (at the time of writing at least) mildly recent interview with Noisey on the subject of this album, lead guitarist Tom Campesinos! (Tom Bromley) described “Romance is Boring” as “probably the most self-conscious record, and it's probably the most try-hard record as well,” describing it as a reaction to that whole “twee” and “pop” label they were most popularly recognized with from “Hold on Now, Youngster…”, and even after the release of “We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed.”

Like I said on my reviews of both albums, I feel that “Youngster” was an excellent release if only for the sound it ended up with, and not necessarily the band’s initial visions, which would then be addressed and accentuated in “Doomed,” which more clearly defined the groundwork that the band wanted to pursue underneath the indie pop exterior roof formed with “Youngster.” With this album, “Romance is Boring,” they definitely wanted to challenge that idea even further; become more experimental, create much more blaring, aggressive songs in unusual time signatures and beats, with more complex and detailed production alongside Gareth’s self-deprecatingly bitter, but intricate and atmospheric lyricism. In other words, “Romance is Boring” was a self-imposed challenge, and if they wanted to be “try-hard,” they succeeded.

At the same time though, Tom seemed to be somewhat disappointed about what the band would make in the future in comparison to this album, saying “I would never make songs like that again, at the moment I'm not in that frame of mind where I would, so when I listen to them I'm like 'shit I can't believe we made this'.” The sad truth about trying really hard to be as fucking wild and complex-sounding is that it might be something you never wanna try again because you might never, ever reach that adrenaline-fueled mindset you were in to originally craft it again in the future, and as we’ll discuss with “Hello Sadness” next time, reality just might hit you hard enough to stray away from that.

It’s a shame, but as an artist who often gets fatigued of just trying to work on a passion project for years that burns out for a while after releasing a thing, I can sympathize a bit. Creating and experimenting is very tough, and it takes a lot of time, and you will be often be surprised as hell by what you make in the end, but at the same time it can be really straining, only made bearable by sheer passion and emotion (mostly frustration, it sounds like) that, sad to say, can dissipate just like that, and getting it back isn’t something you can just “do.” And “Romance is Boring” is passionate and emotional, and the experimentation clearly did pay off, but was their process something they should be willing to go through again? Well, I don’t know Gareth and the band well-enough to decide for certain, but I’m gonna say… probably not?

CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?

But anyways, let’s talk about “Romance is Boring” itself. Simply put, as you probably might have inferred from other reviews, “Romance is Boring” is my favorite Los Camp record. They put a lot of fucking effort into this album, likely more than with any other record they’ve ever made, and it shows. It contains basically everything I think the band excels at, and even the parts it doesn’t normally do the absolute best in, they do exceptionally well here. Witty, poetic and dense lyrics, blaring, catchy, and diverse instrumentals, wild and conflicting yet consistent moods, and hauntingly vague but vivid imagery following and exploring complex and dissonant themes and narrative, such as the idea of falling in love, disappointing mental anguish, depression, creepiness, selfishness, bitter sarcasm, and regret, among others. It sounds a lot better than the emo shit it just came off as, honest.

The album is much more narratively flowing than “Youngster” or “Doomed,” and as you might expect from the title, it’s about romance, but not necessarily in a completely despondent way as it also might imply. While an overall theme it provides is one of dissatisfaction and heartbreak, once again, Los Camp’s ability to simultaneously yet fluidly meld together multiple diametrically opposed emotions shines through here.

The second track, “There Are Listed Buildings,” is a very good example of this, because the instrumentation is by far the poppiest and free-flowing track on this album, almost “Youngster”-ey in quality, with these cheery “BAH BAH, BAH BAH, BAH BAH BAH, BADDADA” choruses with what I think is a tuba or trombone, and just a wonderfully-sounding electric guitar riff pre-chorus, it all feels so bright and carnival-ly, and honestly, so are the lyrics, which are playful and strangely optimistic for the band. I think it’s about a like a couple deciding to actually pursue a relationship, with lyrics like “I think I'd do it for love, if it were not for the money / I'll take any scraps that you can give,” which is made honestly kinda cute and sweet-sounding in a sepia-tone, sarcastically hipster kinda way.

I REMEMBER BEING NAKED TO MY WAIST, THOUGH NOT IN WHICH DIRECTION 

[YOU ARE A GLUTTON FOR LOVE, CAN YOU GIVE ME SOME ROMANCE? I'M A GLUTTON FOR SIN]

However, the opposing feeling from this song comes from the exact details and the context in which this song ends up in, because other lyrics seem to reflect more of this idea that the girl is actually really a little too desperate because “You dangle fishing line for crabs, but they're not interested /  I'm your only bite,” which kinda reminds me of that XKCD comic discussing that “nice guy” that at first seems sweet and caring for a lonely girl but is actually disturbingly manipulative and creepy as shit (which some people unfortunately seem to unironically agree with). Plus, as was shown by Los Camp songs before and after, Gareth has simply never believed that “true love” exists, and this budding relationship is uh… yeah, it’s kind of doomed to not end well.

It’s made so much clearer with the song right after it, the title track, and I just love it for how utterly SPITEFUL it is. Whether these characters played by Gareth and Aleks are supposed to be the same throughout the entire album, I don’t know, but this relationship has gotten incredibly bitter and sarcastic, the instrumentation is so fucking blaring and distorted and crashy and violent at times, and the chorus features the band absolutely screaming “YOU'RE POUTING IN YOUR SLEEP, I'M WAKING STILL YAWNING, WE'RE PROVING TO EACH OTHER THAT ROMANCE IS BORING,” it’s so gleefully hateful. I don’t think I’ve heard many tracks of a mutually mentally abusive relationship that sounded this damn cathartic.

WE ARE TWO SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 

YOU AND I, WE ARE NOTHING ALIKE 

I AM A PLEASURE CRUISE, YOU ARE GONE OUT TO TRAWL 

RETURN NETS EMPTY, NOTHING AT ALL

Really, I could go on with these tracks all day and pick apart the little intricacies of each song to dissect how great each one is, because this is probably the absolute densest Los Camp has ever gotten instrumentally and lyrically. There’s so many little moments as to what makes every track work so much, and rarely is it just as straightforward as the title track, but even when it is, the production and poetry just feel so incredibly potent, it’s essentially like instead of listening to a song and being gradually surrounded by atmosphere, “Romance is Boring” fucking clocks you with it.

Just getting out of the way, I think maybe the least experimental track on this album is “Straight in at 101,” because instrumentally, structurally, it really does feel the most straightforward, even with little moments with like a sudden blast of distortion at one point or how it immediately goes from feeling bright and upbeat to somber, then complete silence as Gareth sings about how “the talking heads count down the most heart wrenching breakups of all time / imagine the great sense of waste, the indignity the embarrassment when not a single one of that whole century was mine.”  It, and maybe “A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State; or, Letters from Me to Charlotte” are probably the most “standard-sounding,” or like baseline to Los Camp, which doesn’t mean they’re bad, but yknow.

I’d still consider it a very strong track because it’s still very consistent, it’s got a very continuous but evolving groove to it, and the lyrics are still jam-packed with wordplay and description that paint just this really fucking selfish, but also really kinda(?) sympathetic narrator, who makes his utter disappointment with what I’m assuming was a one night stand very clear. Los Camp is a very self-aware band and Gareth’s a very self-deprecating writer, but the way he manages to be both really ugly but astoundingly relatable, and also so mean-spirited to a point where you can’t help but really laugh at how much of a shit he is is kind of admirable.

I THINK WE NEED MORE POST-COITAL AND LESS POST-ROCK

FEELS LIKE THE BUILD-UP TAKES FOREVER, BUT YOU NEVER TOUCH MY COCK 

AND WHAT EXACTLY DO YOU MEAN NOW BY, "WHAT CAN YOU EVEN EAT?" 

AND HOW DOES THAT AFFECT HOW I'LL GET OFF THIS EVENING?

Two of the most unusual tracks that I both love from this album are “Plan A” and “I Warned You: Do Not Make an Enemy of Me” (goddamn that title just makes me so giddy for some reason), with “Plan A” being probably the harshest, off-sounding and most punk-like track Los Camp has ever recorded, with its atonal, distorted mashing chords and screaming call/response vocals (it’s so fn weird hearing Aleks sound panicked and frantic, but goddamn I miss her) before suddenly segueing into like this sing-songy, but still distorted and oddly free-flowing, almost twee-like chorus, and “I Warned You” sounding so stilted and awkwardly tense yet cheery with its weird tempo and beat shifts, almost feeling kinda outsider-music-y at times.

BROKE DOWN LAUGHING AND SCREAMING FOR MORE 

BUT IF THIS CHANGED YOUR LIFE, DID YOU HAVE ONE BEFORE?

Another personal favorite track is the intro, “In Medias Res,” which starts off the album just perfectly, starting with like these gentle, but already kinda already compressed and messy acoustic guitar chords before slowly building up into this like surprisingly reverbed, ethereal and charming instrumental, with a backing that almost sounds like it came from like a shoegaze or dark dream pop track, but with like this really, dreamy and cute duet vocals and glockenspiel. It sounds so oddly saddening yet so weirdly uplifting, especially with that little breakdown near the end with all the distortion effects placed against the glockenspiel, keyboards and brass; I’m pretty sure you can hear at some points Gareth screaming some lines, but it’s so blended-in with the instrumental, but it sounds kinda… beautiful.

And the lyrics, oh god, the lyrics. For some reason, the first and last lines just have so much damn atmosphere loaded into something that just feels so… simple. I can’t explain it without the context, but the very first line, “But let’s talk about you for a minute,” just really gets to me for some reason, probably because within this album itself, it just says so damn much about its themes, that while incredibly toxic and awesomely angry at times, can also get really intimate, melancholy, and depressing, especially with the song’s outro lines:

“IF YOU WERE GIVEN THE OPTION OF DYING PAINLESSLY IN PEACE AT FORTY-FIVE, BUT WITH A LOVER AT YOUR SIDE, AFTER A FULL AND HAPPY LIFE, IS THIS SOMETHING THAT WOULD INTEREST YOU? WOULD THIS INTEREST YOU AT ALL?”

Keep in mind, Gareth believes that true love doesn’t exist.

And in a really cruel reality, despite how playful, giddy and sarcastic or self-deprecating it can be dancing around the topic, Los Camp STILL can’t prove to us that heartbreak, however, isn’t anything but incredibly real. The final 3 tracks on this album (not counting the bonus track, “Too Many Flesh Suppers”) perfectly reflect this mindset.

The fan favorite “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future” is simply put Los Camp’s most beautiful, poignant track they’ve ever made (and also one of the most devastating and emo), and it serves as one hell of an emotional climax for the album. While Los Camp hasn’t really been one for imagery and instead prefers mood most of the time, this track is the perfect marriage of the two; everything about it just seems to paint this incredibly vivid mindset about a depressed, suicidal and utterly broken lover (if it’s the same one from “There Are Listed Buildings,” it’s even more so), who I can just imagine is like sitting on the far end of a dock on a very gloomy beach with gray overcast and an sea, maybe like rocking her legs back and forth sitting on the edge with her feet just touching the salt water as she just stares hopelessly out onto the endless horizon. Y’know, happy stuff.

The lyrics on this track are just some of the most utterly concise and madly specific descriptions Gareth’s ever written, with simultaneously pointless yet (ugh I normally hate this word in this context but) deep and precise lyrics, and Gareth’s vocal delivery just slowly escalates to this heartfelt, like pouring-out-his-soul-in-desperation, perfect climax. Everything about this track just works, and it plunges you into this visceral, atmospheric world of gray skies, salty seas and contemplation, where it really does feel like that the sea is a great place to think of the future… or maybe a lack of one.

SHE SAID ONE DAY TO LEAVE HER, SAND UP TO HER SHOULDERS, WAITING FOR THE TIDE

TO DRAG HER TO THE OCEAN, TO ANOTHER SEA'S SHORE, THIS THING HURTS LIKE HELL... 

BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT!?

But like I said, Los Camp likes to dance around these sort of maudlin themes, and immediately after one of the bleakest tracks they’ve made, we suddenly get more cheery, upbeat, and snide in “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” whose first lyrics are literally the band shouting “CAN WE ALL PLEASE JUST CALM THE FUCK DOWN!?”, singing another almost-kinda-sorta indie-twee track about a couple stupidly in love, but we all know that it’s all unhealthy and it’s going to end poorly, right? Like, any song about love that has the chorus “The story of the winter I forgot how to speak, my mind was like a nation's flag but my breeze was too weak / How they dragged me to the hospital saying I had gone deaf / But I heard everything they said, it's just I had no interest,” no matter how crowd-pleasing and roucous and glockenspiel-accompanied it sounds, can’t have a story that ends well, right?

Well, considering how the album ends with “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,” a much slower, a lot more ethereal-sounding ballad with the lines “Run the water 'til it scalds, you know that I'm listening / Pitter-patter runs the shower, hits the bare porcelain” and “I fall to my knees, my piss-soaked jeans / The first time, the last time, all the times in between”... it’s probably safe to assume yes, it didn’t. Actually, considering “The Sea is a Good Place” and the chillingly repeated outro of “I CAN’T BELIEVE I CHOSE THE MOUNTAINS EVERY TIME YOU CHOSE THE SEA,”  it probably ended VERY horribly. And… that just fucking sucks, you know?

Goddamn, there’s still so many tracks I didn’t cover, but damnit, if I make this any longer, this is gonna just turn into a track-by-track thesis paper, since there’s just so much to talk about. These are basically the major elements I love the most and find the most worth-addressing, but the thing is that this entire album feels worth addressing, because once again, it’s just so damn packed with just about everything I feel makes an album work in my eyes. There’s not a single track that’s not worth analyzing and appreciating, but christ, there are only so many hours in the day! D:

BY NOW IT'S JUST THE THREE OF US

ME, YOUR SHADOW, YOUR ECHO

“Romance is Boring” is just a fantastic album. It manages to contain all of the things I feel an album needs to be heavily engaging, and the fact that most of them came from a band who normally doesn’t do that great in some of those aspects such as actual concrete description or instantly recognizable context makes this feel all the more surprising and welcoming.

And that’s where it all comes down to: it is just really, really engaging. It’s powerful without being overbearing, it’s noisy while being incredibly and consistently precise, it’s descriptive while being pretty accessible, and it’s varied but also manages to maintain a consistent sound Los Camp have finally pinpointed down as that which can be identified as uniquely their own. It plays up the band’s unique strengths just enough that you never feel alienated or feel forced or anything like that, and not only is it as adventurous as the band might ever get, it’s one hell of a fucking adventure. Hail try-hardiness. (5/5)

...So what happens now?

FAVES: “In Medias Res,” “There Are Listed Buildings,” “Romance is Boring,” “We’ve Got Your Back,” “Plan A,” “Straight in at 101,” “Heart Swells/100-1,” “I Just Sighed. I Just Sighed, Just So You Know,” “The Sea is a Good Place to Think About the Future,” “This is a Flag. There is No Wind,” “Coda: A Burn Scar in the Shape of the Sooner State,”

[pankopop]

Sono Chi No Sodomy

Renegotiating Gender Politics of Anime and the Complex Queerness of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure

Now, I’ll be the first to admit I’m a dumb baby newcomer to anime. And I’m not gonna pretend that I have any authority at all here. I think letsplayer Arin Hanson once tweeted about “The Weeb” being like chicken pox – you’ll be okay if you get it early but if you contract it in your twenties you’re basically doomed.

When I was 13 I never let my sister off the hook for being into Inuyasha. One day, I walked into the anime club at my highschool and just belly laughed at the dorks who dared to enjoy things. I’m a recovering fuckhead, and boy do I feel bad about the assholey things I thought and said.

The sneerishness stemmed from this idea that ALL anime was sexist, racist, and sexually obsessed with underage girls. To me, the entire country of Japan was ideologically written off as an ethical dystopia. That was when I still thought of myself as a real hard manly masculine boy, with long hair and motorhead on loop loud enough to drown out any opinions but Lemmy’s. I had things to prove! Boycott Japan! I’m very insecure!

Of course, things have changed (I hope). It took me many years of hurting and deriding really wonderful people to come to terms with how fucked up my thinking was. Studio Ghibli flicks became something to share with my partner, and then I happened to sit in on a pal watching subbed Attack on Titan. I had realized how much incredible stuff, how many fantastic worlds I was missing out on. How I didn’t need to worry about authentically being my true analog self if I was just fucking enjoying something.

***

When I first heard of Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, it was through the tweets and tumblr posts of femmes and queer folk. That should have been a tell…

I had previously looked into the entirety of the Fatal Fury anime films because of cartoonist/roadwarrior/bisontaur Coelasquid waxed on about the pretty bara boys. That was kinda my first introduction to enjoyably dumb thousand-punch-a-second anime, but I was more interested by the way in which Coelasquid read into the schlock, seeing more complex narratives and richer characters than at face value. I began to see this blatantly masculine-centric misogynist text as more complex than what was intended.

Fragile and Close to the Edge were cornerstones in my musical childhood, so the roundabout meme (playing on the first couple series’ “to be continued” sepia freeze frame) was enough to get me interested. Also, I had just finished One Punch Man, and that left a big ol’ fist-shaped hole in my heart, so I was down for some new hyper weeb fighty fights.

Eventually I took it upon myself to find some Jojo episodes, starting S1E1. I got about six episodes in, and kinda lost interest. I think I got to about the episodes that involved the warriors devout to Mary queen of Scots. I can’t remember exactly why I fell off the wagon (anime Queen Mary really spoke to me). I probably had shit to do, and life gets in the way. Excuses excuses.

It was around this time that Lego Bionicle had received its half-hearted and ultimately futile reboot. By way of a 4chan /toy/ thread I came across the tumblr bionicle fandom, and then was redirected to someone’s twitter which had some fireemoji 100emoji fireemoji shitposts. She also posted jojo stuff non-stop. Which was cool. I didn’t mind not “getting it”; it was all so absurd that it was kinda just a joy to have on the feed.

It also piqued my interest as to why someone so into a weird niche robo-tiki fandom would be into this big boy barafest. In Bionicle, there were very few female characters. The extant few were actually pretty well written, but this left a big population of masculine heroes with a fandom hungry to ship romance into. I remember one person posting “If they didn’t want bionicle to be so gay, then why did they write men almost exclusively?”

“Alright”, I thought. “If they’re on the same wavelength regarding avatar-but-robots, Jojo might be cool.”

So I picked up where I left off, and was hopelessly hooked. I finished part 1, was admittedly chuffed by some pretty fun plot twists, and I absolutely got into Joseph Joestar in the part 2. The outfits, posing, and artistic obsession with lips, hips, and eyes were all so decadent, and the absolute disregard for toning it down really got me into the series.

Simultaneously, I was watching Steven Universe and absolutely adoring the story for its inclusive, positive social activist platform and it’s kindness. Each episode basically became my time for cry. I was also finishing up a cultural anthropology degree that would sustain that allowed me to unpack all the self-loathing I had as a teenager. I came out of that degree a kinder, more open minded person.

I was in a mire of anti-bigotted pink futurism. So why the fuck was I so into this show about big muscular boys punching big muscular boys? Well for one I started realizing things about myself but ALSO:

In some sense, the absence of women as plot characters had left the shipping possibilities open. As previously mentioned: all men, all gay. I noticed hard aesthetic resemblance to hyperbutch homo-ero british and American schlock portraits of the 60’s and 70’s. In many ways, yes, it is a male power fantasy. But in other ways it is absolutely a bergerian spectacle of pecks and soft lips and sad eyes and thighs and midriff and chiseled V. It’s an animated pinup mag.

I saw more porn of the characters than battle portraits. The fanart knew what was up. The fanfiction was dripping. Jojo is so sexually charged, and more importantly, sexually charged for a specific audience.

Now you could probably write a paper drawing a lineage from Charles Atlas through the dark ages of comics and into jojo, but I feel that’s more of an artist-centric industry perspective. The fact that Jojo sits comfortably in Shonen Jump, with a reader base insistently for boys, raises some exciting questions. I mean, it’s definitely not classically bishounen - there’s no accessible femme softness playing into romantic hetero dating scenario.

I think what, in the very least, feels revolutionary about Jojo is its unapologetic, unspoken, and hard sexualization of male forms. There’s really not a lot of actual fighting going on - so much frame time is spent ogling these tight bodies. You know this sexuality is for someone, and that someone is heckin’ queer and/or heckin’ female.

Furthermore, this powerful sexual decadence is fairly uncommon for non-hetero male eyes. It’s cruder and far more raw than your average bit of media meant to titillate boy-lovers. I can really only think of Magic Mike XXL as an equivalent.

This isn’t what your average dudebro wants to be. There are examples of male power fantasy you could point to, but deep down you know: jojo is for the loins of the spectator. There’s something incredibly subversive about putting the power of sexual spectatorship in the hands of women and queer folk. Tailoring to that spectatorship.

Yeah okay. That could just build off of the cliché of the big beefy hunks that naughty suburban blondes get flustered over after their 4th glass of white wine. But hear me out: Jojo’s not at all getting his beautiful body out of this queer reading.

For example: there’s a theme of piercing in Jojo. Bits of wood and shrapnel in bodies, the Pillar Men’s betrothals to Joseph (which y’know, gg ez), Dio’s obsession with fingering people’s necks… etc. Unlike the invincible bulletproof armour-bodies of Superman, Goku, etc etc, these bodies are fleshy and soft. They are vulnerable, even if the character himself is stoic enough to tough it out.

Men’s bodies, in the patriarchal scheme of things, are not supposed to do that. They should be hard, to pierce the bodies of the subjugated (read emasculated/females) that defy them. But here we are, Araki, with the men who can be penetrated, curiously burning gender roles and expectations with violence in a very violent narrative. Far from subtle, sure, but it’s nothing to ignore.

If the Jojoboys were really just a heteronormative eye candy for thirsty women, I don’t feel like male penetration would have been as pervasive. The male would be doing the penetrating, but no real males would be penetrated, especially not the protagonists.

To build on that, the garish, revealing fashion doesn’t point to male power. There are no massive pauldrons or chestplates, everything is laid bare, sensuous and exposed. These adjectives tend not to be associated with hegemonic masculinities. Nor is the world of textiles and high fashion seen as a socially acceptable male venture, as much as a trivially feminine pastime. There is genderfuckage abound in this hard boy cartoon.

***

I overheard someone talking about how they tried watching Jojo and they couldn’t understand for the life of them why any self-respecting femιnist would be into this mess of tropes. I’m not gonna argue against that. The whole argument for Jojo as a progressive show sounds like someone covering their ideological ass. I’m in no way suggesting that Jojo does the same work for femιnism that shows like Steven Universe and Avatar/Korra might be doing.

The point I’m trying to bring home is that I came of age thinking that anime was inherently sexist. That idea came from a whole lot of not listening to the people who were actually experiencing real sexism. Especially in those incredible cultural circumstances where the distinctions between content creator and content interpreter become blurred, it’s always worth it to investigate what identities, intentions, and libidos are involved. Something that seems like run-of-the-mill propaganda might actually be backfiring in a more progressive direction than media with actual progressive intentions.

[theworstbob]

the thing journal: 6.4.17 - 6.10.17

capsule reviews of the seven+ pop culture things i took in last week. in this post: solid state, the untouchables, in-ter a-lia, noenemies, the beautiful game, more issues than vogue, let’s not be friends, looper, the last man on earth, and selma

1) Solid State, Jonathan Coulton: This was a very good album of nerd-leaning alternative-rock songs made by a very smart individual who has been making those songs for decades. I feel like, in this capsule, I'm doing the thing where I'm saying "it fulfilled my expectations" as a piece of criticism, when this album was not made with my expectations in mind? I'm gonna do it with the Flobots review, and I'm doing it here, and I'm not sure how much that statement has to offer y'all, because a) you don't know my expectations, and b) this album was not made with my expectations in mind. It's why I think overrated/underrated are bullshit nothingwords, y'know? I can tell you this album did everything I wanted it to do, but it doesn't tell you what I actually thought of the album. What happened is, I thought this album was Very Good, and then I didn't have much to say beyond that, so I threw in the thing about what I wanted, and that sounds like I'm saying something when I'm actually saying nothing. So: this album was Very Good, and then other words until the paragraph looks as full as I want it to be.

2) The Untouchables, dir. Brian de Palma: There's nothing like the sense of relief which comes from finally seeing one of those movies with a dozen all-time quotes you've been hearing for years and years. Like, I can't remember any specific instance of my father using a line from this movie in place of advice? But I'm sure it happened, and I am thrilled to understand him better. This is just a solid film, this would be one of those films I'd watch if I had basic cable and it came on while I was flipping channels. Brian de Palma knows how to direct a B+ movie, and Sean Connery is fucking amazing as the wizzened Chicago veteran, like half the reason this film has so many iconic lines is his delivery. I am about to say something blasphemous, given I am trying to tell y'all I'm a film nerd, and say I didn't like the score? It's Morricone, I know, I know, he's great, but I think the film loses something by scoring this film about Prohibition-era Chicago with a standard orchestral score. I feel like jazz should have figured more prominently into the equation.

3) in-ter a-lia, by At the Drive-In: I have no idea why I listened to this album, to be perfectly frank. I like "One-Armed Scissor," but with all the music that has ever existed being immediately available to me at my leisure, I could have picked up the At the Drive-In album with "One-Armed Scissor," I believe it is called This Station Is Non-Operational, though that might just be a line from "One-Armed Scissor" I thought was cool. I am not a hardcore fan of this band and didn't need to listen to their reunion album. I didn't need to hear lines like the poetry book of the balding dude with dreadlocks, "How many bites do you think it takes to get to the cyanide tooth" like ugh, being howled wildly over abrasive guitar tracks, just loud and fast and never stopping. I didn't have a pleasant time with this one.

4) Noenemies, by Flobots: The most surprising thing about this album is that it isn't just Flobots saying "I told you so" for 50 minutes.That would've been my move, given that, after 2016, I started to listen to the Flobots songs I thought were way too left for me and saying, "You know what, fuck. I should've listened. I'm sorry. I get it now. Please help." It's an album that doesn't yet know how to get unstuck from the mire, but is absolutely certain that the mire is the only obstacle in their way, that justice will prevail and the good people will win. It's not my favorite album of all time, but it's exactly what I wanted and needed from a Flobots album in 2017.

5) The Beautiful Game, by Vulfpeck: As far as albums I listened to because someone played one of the songs in a donation message on a Twitch stream, this was decent! I think reading the summary of this band's history colored my opinion on it, because it does sound like a couple of white kids who met in college, discovered they both loved Kanye West, talked about the old-school samples on his tracks, actually took the time to listen to those songs, realized they loved those songs as well, and decided to make those songs. It's a pretty OK album, maybe I wouldn't have paid $3.50 to convince 200 strangers they should listen to it, but OK enough backing for a bus ride.

6) More Issues Than Vogue, by K. Michelle: I think I might have the least to say about this album than anything else this week. It's an eminently enjoyable pop/R&B album that doesn't give you a lot to chew on, but does give you a lot to love. And while I know that the challenge of the Thing Journal is to get me to think about the pop culture which I experience, you gotta sometimes recognize when an album has such an infectious charm and tight production and solid vocal work that thinking about it might distract from the experience it wants you to have, that you should just listen to the thing because it wants you to hear it. It's an album of great joy, and I'm glad I got on its wavelength in time to let go and enjoy the hell out of it.

7) Let's Not Be Friends, by The Girls!: On the bus the other day, I was looking up Lydia Loveless, because I knew Lydia Loveless was right up my alley but hadn't actually listened to any of her stuff beyond her AUdiotree session, and in looking up and adding all her albums to my library, I discovered she had a sister in a punk band with an exclamation point in their name, and "female-fronted punk band with an exclamation point in their name" checks off three things I need from a band to love them, so I knew I was gonna love this, which is why I listened to this before any of that Lydia Loveless nonsense. I fucking loved this album. I love anything that's 12 tracks of pure, joyous punk/rock with a tinge of '50s-pop influence and no shortage of eternal teen angst. It bums me out that this is the only full album listed on their Wikipedia, and that they haven't been active on any sort of social media I could find for nearly a year. I need more of this in my life. (Also: I have now listened to 20 2014 releases! I actually hit a point where I felt I was caught up on my queue and, needing new things to listened to, am gonna go back and fill in the gaps in my musical experience, starting with 2014. Like, I've listened to all the punk things, I know I covered that ground, but that year and all years in music have so much more to offer beyond what I was looking for, and I'm stoked to finally listen to offerings such as Beyonce's self-titled, Anderson .Paak's Venice, and 2NE1's Crush.

8) Looper, dir. Rian Johnson: As someone who spends most of his time either yelling at his past self for the poor choices that put him in his present situation or making choices with little to no regard for how they impact my future, I loved that scene in the dinner, where JGL and Bruce Willis are basically doing that, Bruce Willis sternly warning JGL of the mistakes he'll make and the need to find the woman in China, and JGL being flippant and focused solely on the present danger being brought by Bruce Willis.I also have made respect for, in that same scene, Bruce Willis saying, "Look, we could sit here for fucking days trying to figure out the science, but fuck that, 100% fuck that." I assume the time travel makes sense and am mostly unconcerned with how it works, so thank you, movie, for being a movie! I do kinda wish the film had done more with the concept of chasing your past or future self, the film goes somewhere and then stays there for an hour, and like it's still a pretty decent movie, Rian Johnson has no shortage of imagination or skill, but it didn't need to be a movie about time-travel if you were just gonna put one of the characters in a barn the whole time? But, whatever, solid B+. Dope film. Not a lot of complaints. (Perhaps because I watched it between the hours of 2 and 4 AM Saturday morning because MY LIFE IS TOGETHERRRRRRRRRRRR and might need to rewatch this at a more reasonable hour?)

9) The Last Man on Earth s1, cr. Phil Lord & Christopher Miller: I love how unafraid this show is to let its characters be horrible fucking people. At no point after the first episode does the show let you feel anything like sympathy for Tandy; he just does awful thing after awful thing, all in self-interest, and always making things worse for the small community. (And he drags everyone down with him! He corrupts Todd, he tricks Carol into abandoning Tucson for him, he goads Phil into leaving him in the fucking desert. No one on this show is good, but that’s in no small part due to Tandy’s influence. (Also, as you can tell, I loved when the show just switched to calling him Tandy. Like, minor initial resistance, and then he was just Tandy.)) It's such a fascinating concept, the idea that one of the last people on earth is an anti-social monster, and I can't believe that a broadcast television network aired this experiment. I'm bummed I've been missing this for so long but stoked to finally be beginning this journey.

10) Selma, dir. Ava DuVernay: For the longest time, I was watching this film, trying to figured out why everything looked so muted. Every shot was filled with earth tones, reds and browns and greens always, and it looked like they left it just a couple notches above sepia, and while I was never removed from the film, it was in the back of my mind the whole time, what is the reason for this choice. And then near the end, when they added in the archival footage that was sepia-toned, it hit me: it was trying to be two notches above sepia-toned. It wanted to have that feel of the archival footage, a matter of historical record, but it also wanted to root itself in something modern, because this is very much a modern story. We still see horrible acts of police brutality, we still see black people being denied the right to vote, we still see out government leaders doing nothing but wishing these people would stop bothering them. Or, perhaps it goes for half-sepia because sepia is typically associated with nostalgia, we color over our memories of the past to make it better, but they leave some color in there because there's no making the past better in this instance. It's a remarkable film, and one I bet won a thousand Oscars! I don't see how it couldn't!

[scriptsfromthevoid-blog]

Working at the Bar, Part 2

The bar is empty by this time at night. It's a weekday, so I'm closing up around midnight. My rag is running in circles inside of a wet glass, and my eyes are tracing the movements of Reuben from across the room. He's looking at the scenery of the bar, taking in the climate of the place. Who the fuck is this guy, and why did he just show up? I hadn't thought about that party for a long time, but now...

“Hey, cool art you've got! Where'd you get these?” He calls out to me from the corner, looking at a couple of prints I have on the walls. They picture musicians, a quartet with each man holding their instrument in prime position. Each one was colored with wild, bright palettes of blues and pinks and greens, a far cry from the old sepia photos they originated from.

“My dad was a big jazz fan back in the day. The band in the photos was local, hit up open mics around our hometown pretty often. He took those after a show, painted over 'em and framed 'em.” It sounded a lot more casual than I was feeling, but I had to maintain a bit of calm. Can't lose my cool here.

“Really? I remember Link, I don't remember him being all too much of an artist.”

Or maybe I can.

“Okay, that's it! I'm tired of this! Who are you? Why did I remember that party? What the hell is going on?” The cup in my hand threatened to break under the pressure squeezing it. There was a beat, but the message was received. He turned around, and headed back to the bar, taking a seat. A yawn escaped his lips as he set his head down onto crossed arms, looking up at me coyly.

“Are you almost done? I'm willing to answer questions, but I wanna get out of here. We've been here for hours.” He smiles at me, a wide and tired smile. His teeth were extremely white and well kept, in perfect straight order...Wait...Did he have two canines on each side? How the hell...

“Hello? I asked you a question.” A hand waving in front of my face broke my focus. “Come onnn...” Reuben whined, a thud coming from the bar as his head pitched forward off its rest. I sighed, and put the glass back where it belonged. This guy's interesting, and he's certainly worth following, but he's a friggin' brat. Still, it was hard to stay mad at him...

“Alright, fine. Come on. Lemme get my keys so I can lock up.” I said, grabbing my jacket off the rack. He shot up, bright light shining in his eyes. He stood, cracked his back, and sped over to the door. I approached, and he opened it for me, bowing flamboyantly as a flourish.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what? I'm being polite.”

“You're bein' a handful is what you're doing.”

“Ugh, fine. So much for manners.”

“Manners are appreciated. Theatrics ain't.” I walk through and pull the door closed behind me. As I fumbled with my keys, Reuben's already starting off. “Hey, wait--!” I get the door locked and jog for a second to catch up. “Now look, we're outside, you've gotta start answering questions!”

He slows his escape attempt, but keeps his back turned to me. There was a moment of hesitation, but finally he responded. “Fine, what is it you want to know again? I know you had a laundry list inside,” He quipped playfully.

“It's obvious what I wanna know! Who are you?” I was almost yelling, but I wasn't angry so much as I was excited...and afraid, in a sense. This guy made me feel shit I wasn't necessarily comfortable with...shit I hadn't felt in a long time. I wanted to know why.

A quarter turn of his head cast a shadow over the eye I could see, and paired with a toothy grin made for an unnerving picture. Wait...now I knew I saw it, he had four canines! What the fuck was up with this guy?

“I told you who I am already. I'm Reuben.”

“Reuben who? Why do I remember you?”

“Just Reuben.” Facing forward now, he laughs. “And you do remember me? That's good news, I guess.”

I bite my tongue for a second. There's silence for two streetlamps.

“Kind of...at least I think it's you.” I see his head turn slightly, and he slows his walk until we're side by side. “All I can really remember is this one...party. I'm having a good time or whatever, but then these assholes start beating on this kid who showed up. Then everything goes kinda fuzzy, and then...”

Reuben's staring at me out of the corner of his eye, like he's waiting for something. “That's all I remember really.”

“Really? That's all?” He retorts immediately. His words come out of his mouth quicker than they were meant to, and his eyes dart away and back again. I nod slowly. A puff of steam escapes his mouth, and he looks forward again. “That's good, then. You at least remember that much.”

“Okay, but that's not important! We're not here to question me, we're here because you showed up at my bar, said 'Hey, do you remember me?', and have played the fool ever since!” His hand shot out from his side and slammed into my chest, knocking me back a fair bit. Before I regain my standing, a car rushes in front of us, sending litter and water everywhere. A cough, a sniffle, and I'm back where I was. “Boy, that's a strong arm you got there.”

“Thanks. Now if you're done trying to walk into traffic, I'd like to explain myself.” He chuckles and starts again. My hand rubs my chest a sec, and it's only now that I notice the height difference between us. I've always been a bigger guy, so I'm used to being a good foot taller than folk, but even with that, this guy's nearly two heads shorter than me. And it takes a bit of force to stop me movin' forward, let alone knock me back...

“You're right.” I snap back to reality. “I've been dragging this on long enough, I might as well come clean.” He takes a seat on a bench, and locks eyes with me. The nonchalant lax posture conflicts with the seriousness in his gaze...There's something about those eyes I remember. Blood rushes to my face as a familiar warmth finds its way up my body, working up from the thighs. Ugh. No. Fuck off. I take a seat next to him. Waiting for the creaking to settle down, he continues.

“So, yeah. I'm Reuben. I used to go to the same high school as you, but I was different back then. I used to be a fuckin' awkward mess...a victim all the time, too. That memory you've got is pretty accurate, I'll give you that.” His inhale is shaky, his exhale is laughter. “Yeah, fuck those guys. I had bruises for weeks after that. But, at the same time...after that day, I never let myself be that guy again. I guess I have them to thank for that.” He chuckles, and shoves a hand in his pocket.

“No, ya don't.” He looks confused, and the fidgeting in his pocket stops. “Ya don't owe those motherfuckers anything. You changed because you're strong, and strength is a personal trait. Never give anyone else the shit that you earn. Especially fuckin'...” I hack and shoot a ball of spit at the ground. “Idiots like that. Big, pretty idiots that get off by fuckin' with kids smaller than them.”

Reuben smiles, and the hand comes out of the pocket. It lands and connects with the other in his lap, and continues its fidgeting routine. “Wow, you sound kinda pissed. Is this like...something you had to deal with back then?”

I shake my head. “No. I just hate it when I see that happening to people. My dad taught me that any fight you pick should be fair. If you can't win on your own merit, don't fight.”

He scoots closer. “Your dad was a good guy, how I remember it.”

“How do you remember it? I don't...you never met my dad.” He gives me the saddest look I've seen in a while.

“Heh...wow, you really don't remember what happened after that night, do you? But...why did you remember the first bit? It doesn't make sense...” At this moment, I couldn't decide whether I should be upset or concerned, but it didn't matter. He put his hand in mine and squeezed really hard. “Are you sure you don't remember? Who I was...who I am to you?” He looks me dead in the eye, and tears start to form. I...

I do.

I knew exactly who he was to me...

We're talking in that yard that night. Tells me his name, a bit of backstory, we talk for hours. It's light out when we fall asleep together. We wake up a couple hours later, we go to my place, I introduce him to my dad. We're talking more. We're always talking. We're moving closer and closer. The talking gets quieter and quieter.

We're on my bed together.

We stop talking. We just stare at each other. Those eyes...those beautiful, emerald green eyes...

…

“Yeah.” The statement came out as a whisper. “I remember.” His grip on my hand tightens, and I feel something wet on my arm. He burrows his face into my chest, and his arms wrapped around me. The softly shaking man in front of me...is this the same guy from the bar? The same guy as back in high school? My arms gently envelop him, and that warmth that my body remembered came back. The second to last thing I remember thinking was that I never wanted this moment to end.

The final thing I remember thinking that it was weird that Reuben's whole face was covered in blood...and that there was a hole in my jacket...and that everything was red, but slowly... fading...

to black.