#jokes aside i am dead serious when i say you should follow some bird people

[thisisnotjuli]

to have a healthy balance in your dashboard ecosystem it is essential to have at least a couple bird mutuals [mutuals who somewhat frequently reblog or share pictures of birds, or art of birds], as well as a bird friend [a friend who you can tag on the bird pictures or DM the bird pictures to]. this contributes to the larger birdblr community [bird tumblr] and helps regulate one's dashboard, which is essential for a healthy, well balanced tumblr posts consumption.

[unsettledink]

Back in the days of LJ, I used to try and do a post at the end of each year, looking back primarily at fandom and fic. I fell out of the habit when everything moved to tumblr, and then it seemed like I didn’t have anything to say since I wasn’t writing or really participating any. 

But I always liked the idea of it, because I love to be overly reflective on stuff. And talk about my fic. Any excuse! I shuffled around some of the topics I used back then and added a few I’ve seen around that I liked. It got… long, because I TALK, so I split into two sections. 

*

Your main fandom of the year? 

    Marvel (MCU) for sure. Primarily with characters from Spider-Man and Iron Man movies.

Your favorite film watched this year?

    The Old Guard - I saw a couple trailers and everything about it looked like catnip. ‘It’s probably going to be so dumb, but I don’t even care,’ I thought. And then it was so good. It was so much fun and so much smarter than I expected and I loved each and every character and it just made me happy in so many ways.

Your favorite book read this year?

    Red, White, and Royal Blue, Casey McQuiston - I read it twice this year actually. It’s so… cute isn’t the right world. Sweet and hopeful and soft and comforting and intense. I liked every single character which is pretty rare. I cried during the sad parts and then again at the happy ending, like straight up sobbed - both times. I already want to read it again.

Your favorite tv show watched this year?

    Schitt’s Creek - I started it on a whim and because a lot of people had said it was good. The episodes were short so it wasn’t a huge time investment. The first season was a little rough, but there were enough funny moments that I hung on, and then… I kept getting fonder and fonder of these idiots as they grew. And THEN… it kept not disappointing me? 

     You grow to expect certain scripts, twists, jokes, especially in queer story lines. To wait for the bad thing to happen, because it always does. Instead, Schitt’s Creek kept going, ‘hey, here’s the set up for that! Guess what? We’re not doing it. Here’s the happy version instead.’ The relief of having that happen again and again - the last season I’ve watched (I’m sort of saving 6) I cried a bunch but it was always because I was happy. 

Your favorite album or song to listen to this year?

    1896 - I’ve been waiting for the new Steam Powered Giraffe album so eagerly for aaaaaages. Finally getting recordings of Zero’s songs! Lying Awake remains my favorite off the album, with Eat Your Heart and Bad Days on the Horizon high up there as well. I’m loving what Zero brings to the band.

Your best new fandom discovery of the year?

    I don’t know if I really did discover that much? I stuck pretty closely to old fandoms and the ones I picked up in 2019. Maybe Zodiac? It was definitely inspiring, and I want to write and read more in it. 

    Maybe the couple discords I joined? I still really dislike discord and am not on there much, and mostly lurk when I am, but having somewhere vaguely like the comms I remember makes me feel a little less isolated. It’s the potential, that maybe if I said something I might make a friend, or someone might actually want to hear what I say. 

Your biggest fandom disappointment of the year?

    The Watch - I mean, I knew it was going to be a disaster with every word said during pre production. I wasn’t ever going to be happy with it. And then it came out and was even worse and uglier and … disrespectful not just of the source material but of actual people connected to Terry. I’m beyond disappointed that this is what we got, and it’s probably going to be a long time before we get anything else. 

    Devil All the Time was terrible, but I didn’t have especially high hopes. It still didn’t manage to meet them. Yikes.

The most missed of your old fandoms?

    Maybe MASH? Someone I follow started talking about it and I was reminded all over again of the wonderful fics in that fandom. I went looking and a lot are gone (still on my computer, lol, but not online), but rereading was such a trip. A slightly depressing trip, but still. 

The fandom you haven't tried yet, but want to?

    Hmm. I’ve kind of not had the energy to invest in other fandoms at the moment? When The Witcher was having it’s big moment back in January, I had a feeling I might enjoy it enough to fall headfirst into the fandom, so I avoided watching it. Ikr? I don’t have the time or the energy to actively seek anything out. 

Your biggest fan anticipations for the New Year?

    SO EXCITED about Winter’s Orbit. I mean, the third Spider-Man movie for sure, with worry. The second Venom movie, ugh yes. I have tentative hopes for Jungle Cruise? Jumanji was stellar and I always enjoy Dwayne. I have both hope and dread for the new Suicide Squad - I did love Birds of Prey, so if it’s along those lines, yay. The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard because it should be some fun garbage, my favorite kind. I don’t know how I feel about Dune, but, uh, I’m anticipating it. It seems highly unlikely it will actually happen, but The Wheel of Time TV series. 

I want to be excited about Black Widow but it’s hard. It’s not the story I’ve been wanting to see, and I’m angry about Natasha not getting a movie until she’s dead.

You know. If any of it is released for real.

The Good: 

I moved to a better place. I got a better paying, better benefits, better environment job that lets me work from home. The house acquired 3-7 more cats depending on the month. I was able to get some serious problems on my car fixed. I have insurance and was able to start on some health stuff. No one I know got sick or died. I wrote a LOT.

The Bad: 

Aside from the obvious? Depression hitting extra hard during the winter. Having to put two kittens to sleep. Have my car be hit three times in our parking lot. Being driven INSANE by one of the cats for months while the vets were all closed. Kidney stone. Dealing with several health problems. Stalling for months on Gotcha.

The Indifferent: 

Not leaving the house often or easily. Enjoying a new fandom but not doing great at making connections (still real awkward, bud). Raising kittens and saying goodbye. Need new tires. Reading a lot of fic but not a lot of books. Having more pay but more expenses as well (wth insurance??). 

*

2020 fic stats

Number of stories: 39

Number of fandoms: 6? Or 2, if you cluster the others under mcu

Total number of words: 152049

Average word count per story: 4kish

Longest fic: Causality (18k, P/Q)

Shortest fic: Can’t, Won’t (1k, P/Q)

Most comments received: Sieche (49, T/P)

Fandom you wrote the most of: MCU Spider-Man - I only wrote TWO fics that didn’t feature that fandom, wow. And one of those was still MCU.

Fandom you wrote the least of: Zodiac (1!)

Events you participated in: Marvel Trumps Hate, Kinktober, IornspidersGeorg Exchange, Starker Festivals Exchange, MCU Secret Santa, Spiderio Big Bang

*

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted?

    SO MUCH MORE OMG. I mean, even just counting posted stuff! (I probably wrote a solid 300k of Gotcha this year.) I did not expect or plan on doing Kinktober, so that’s a whole 31 fics right there. I also wasn’t planning on doing any exchanges - I have a History - but then I did three? And beyond that, I did not expect for everything to get so LONG.

Topic you wrote that you would never have predicted in January:

    Tony/Quentin. Goddammit @the-me09 They were like hey, they could be interesting! And while I agreed, I had no ideas for them. THEN they had to go and write Just Bodies That Collide and next thing I know, I’ve got ten fics featuring them and two-six series focused on them or Peter/Quentin/Tony. What the fuck. 

Leitmotif of the year:

    Vulnerability, I think. I had a bunch of things typed up and they all circle back to vulnerability in the end; sex, being seen, being wanted, sharing trauma, asking for help, trying something new. Offering a soft spot in the hopes it won’t be hurt. 

Favorite character to write about: 

    Tony Stark, for sure. There are just a bunch of slightly different takes, and a lot of canon to work with (kind of frustrating too though). And I’m a sucker for emotionally damaged snarky traumatized characters that are viewed poorly both in universe and out. 

Favorite kind of fic to write:

    This year? Fluff and smut combined. Maybe that’s not the right term really. I keep looking for and writing, even in the angstiest fics, for those soft moments. Sure, maybe it’s a super smutty kink scene, but I want the affection to be obvious. Maybe everyone is consumed by guilt, but I want it to be based in caring too much. Maybe there’s no real love, just sex and even that’s messed up, but I want to find that tiny bit of fondness. 

    And I want happy endings. Or endings that look like they’re going to be happy, at least, even if there’s all the angst first. I don’t think I’ve killed anyone this year? Who AM I? 

Biggest disappointment:

    Not finishing the rough draft of Gotcha. I was making such good progress in 2019, from August to December. Even after the move, I basically finished part 6 in January. I fumbled around and fussed with 1 a lot, but that had already been given one draft, really, and I got through half of 4 before I slowed to a stop. I’ve barely gotten anything accomplished on it since June. Bits and pieces here and there, but nothing significant, not like I was doing. I can excuse October, due to 80k invested in Kinktober (yikes!), but aside from that… I’m sad. I’ll finish it eventually, but I really thought I could have the first draft done in a year. I’m sitting at about 480k out of what I’m almost certain will be 700k. 

Biggest surprise:

    Kinktober! It was kind of spur of the moment, decided just a week in advance. I’ve tried month long or even like, 20-25 day long challenges and I don’t think I’ve ever completed one. I thought there was a good chance I’d do so again, so I gave myself a little help and made my own list of prompts, things I knew I liked and hadn’t done much of yet. And it worked? I actually completed it, what the hell? Despite spending five days travelling near the end! Despite falling behind in getting ahead and writing a bunch of stories the day they were to be posted! Despite apparently forgetting how to do short form! 

    I, uh, could have done without the spawning of eleven series or sequels or continuations jfc WHY SELF.

Something you learned this year:

    Ideas breed ideas. I swear to god, the second I sit down to think through a current idea, I wake up the next morning with three more. 

    Words need to be restocked. I need to consume new - not rereads, not fic - content every so often to refresh my word bank. It is astonishing how quickly writing goes again after I’ve done so.

    I can write so much more than I thought I could. I can do so much more than I thought I could. Yes, I can complete challenges without dropping out early. Yes, I can do exchanges and not regret it. Yes, I can write more than 100k, more than 200k, more and more - and I can write 10k+ easily too. Though I wouldn’t mind if I could once again write less than 10k without feeling like I’ve cut off in the middle. 

    My time is shrinking, and if I want to write as much, I’m going to have to make the time. I can’t rely on three days off a week, on seven hours of uninterrupted overnight shifts, on hyper focused writing binges that leave everything else around me on fire. 

Most memorable comment: 

    So, so many! I can’t pick one. I’ve been really lucky to get a bunch of really detailed, enthusiastic, analyzing comments across all different fics. One of the types that always sticks with me are the ones like ‘I didn’t think/know I liked this ship/kink/twist, but fuck, apparently I do? You made me, what the hell?’. 

What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

So with writing Gotcha but not posting until it’s done, my view of what I’ve written vs anyone else’s is extremely skewed. I’m sitting here thinking, hey I’m 400k in and got another 10k done today, so much writing! While anyone looking at my AO3 account (for most of the year) is like, you’re averaging three months between fics :(

    All that to say I want to try and get something posted more frequently while I’m working on Gotcha.

    Also, writing for kinktober was really interesting - pushing myself to write every single day, often for that day’s post, forced me to get back into shorter form fic. Which used to be all I did? But it was surprisingly hard to just stop and not write more. So I’d like to challenge myself to write more fics under 10k at least. Maybe even under 5k though that might be asking a lot lol. I might get there with the many continuations of those fics I’d like to do. Does that count?

Goals:

   I want to hit 365 fics. :) I’m only 32 away!

    Aside from writing - 

    I’ve really enjoyed the reading record sideblog I started this year. I’ve let it lapse a little the past month or so, but I’d like to keep it going strong. 

    I’d like to leave a lot more comments. I want to get better about allowing imperfection - I want to write The Best Comment, but in the end? Probably 90% of fic writers are going to be happier with a comment expressing enjoyment in any way over no comment at all. 

And not just on fics, but on general posts as well. It’s hard not to feel… weird and stupid and invasive and rude leaving any sort of comment on someone’s post if I don’t know them at least a little. I have godawful rejection sensitive dysphoria and a lot of interactions that ended poorly; I’m really not good at people. But as dumb as it feels to say those things, I know I am thrilled and warmed and happier when there’s a reblog with tags or a note or a comment or an ask or just, any small interaction that shows someone out there notices and cares, at least a little. There’s no reason I can’t at least try to offer that to other people. 

    I’d like to make/run a couple challenges of my own, later in the year. I’m still figuring out what I want to do and what I could do. I’m really interested in doing something that’s not focused on creators, but the readers; some sort of comment or rec challenge maybe.

    I want to find a cheerleader for Gotcha. I’m struggling to keep up my motivation to write it when it’s already in my head, where I can ‘read’ it any time. There’s a line between depending too much on external validation and trying to generate all your validation yourself, and I’m getting to a point where I think I need to ask for help (gasp! The hardest thing EVER). 

*

(Part Two: Pick Some Fics)

[mor-beck-more-problems]

In the Deep of It || Morgan & Mina

TIMING: Recent past

LOCATION: Dark Score Lake

PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan considers death; Mina confesses a secret

CONTAINS: Implications of past emotional abuse

The ashes of the dead were indistinguishable from the dirt floating around the lake bed. Morgan spread them as evenly as possible, guiding the granules down to the moist floor and watching how they swirled as they settled through the murky water. When she was satisfied, she swam up to the surface, blinking the water away from her eyes. “Thank you for this, Mina. I know the whole squid situation wreaked some serious havoc, but this really does feel like a good place for them. You weren’t kidding about the number of bodies down there, and it feels--” She paused thoughtfully, leaning back to float. “It’s kind of restful. I don’t think I would’ve minded being here if I’d stayed dead. I just wish it was better circumstances that finally got us by the lake together.”

“It’s no trouble, really,” Mina said after the water left her lungs. She didn’t worry about Morgan judging her, but, all the same, she tried to keep up a more human appearance than she would if she’d been alone. She was still patchy with scales, and her hands here webbed and clawed, but she probably looked normal. From a distance. Probably. “I think it’s a good place to rest, too. It was… different, when the squid and those people were here. Even when I could come, it was because I had to, not because I wanted to or even enjoyed it.” Looking at Morgan, Mina mimicked the other woman, leaning back and allowing herself to float. “It wouldn’t be a bad place to rest,” she said thoughtfully, “though I’m personally rather glad you didn’t stay dead.” She was beginning to think that the older woman was one of the best friends that she’d had. One of the only friends she’d had, really. “I would have liked that, too. We can still get something for Deirdre, if you’d like, though.”

“Aaaww,” Morgan cooed. “So you could visit my mouldering bones?” She swam in a circle around Mina, turning over the strangeness of the water. She was hyper aware of the current every stroke of her arms created, of the buoyancy of the water, but she had spent so little time in lakes, she didn’t know how different it was supposed to be from a pool or an ocean except for how alive (and dead) it was underneath her. “I’m glad I’m not all dead either,” she said. “But it does feel like...like I’m not completely who I was before? On the one hand I’ve read enough psych theory and been through enough therapy to know that’s how trauma works to a certain extent, I’m also, you know…” She held up a hand for them both to examine its awkward death-pallor and the discoloration creeping into her nails. It was feeding day and she was saving her dinner for a meal with Deirdre. Morgan sighed. “But I am more here than I thought I was going to be at first. And would like to find something to bring her, yeah. Show me where the good bones are, and maybe after tell me some of the stuff that had you all stressed?”

Glancing at Morgan out of the corner of her eye, Mina rolled them a bit. “Yes, so I could visit your mouldering bones. What else would I do with myself?” Her eyes followed the zombie as she moved. Mina had to wonder how often Morgan was in the water. She remembered the older woman telling her that she would sit at the bottom of the swimming pool sometimes. That sounded horribly boring and a bit depressing, but she had no room to judge, seeing as how she spent most of her time in the water laying on the bottom of the lake bed. “You also don’t feel the same,” Mina said, finishing what Morgan was trying to say. She held up her own hand, scales and claws and webbing on display. “I think you’re doing a lot better than you could be. I can’t imagine that most people take being a zombie very well.” Pulling her hand away, she looked across the surface of the lake, anxiety prickling under her skin. “Right. I think there’s some better bones over there,” she motioned a bit to the right of them, “Old but well preserved. And, ah, yeah. I’m not as stressed as I was a few weeks ago.”

“Cry for my soul, write me a nice fae dirge so my tale will be remembered? Just, you know, the usual, right?” Morgan suggested, her eyes bright and mischievous with the game. Her smile turned thoughtful as Mina brought her own hand up for comparison. Morgan thought her nix friend was fascinating. She wondered how it felt to glisten the way the way she did, to take to the water like it belonged to her, if there was ever a time when her claws felt powerful. But it had to be hard, comparing something so different to a perceived human ‘default.’ “I guess it shouldn’t have to be a bad thing. I am different. It’s nice when someone’s able to tell.”

Morgan started to swim in the direction Mina had indicated, moving in lazy strokes. “The older the better,” she said, beaming. “And does not being as stressed mean you’re okay to talk about it? You don’t have to, obviously. I’m just wondering, maybe mildly worried.”

“I’d play you the saddest song I know on the piano,” Mina said, laughing. “Have the English department renamed in your honor. And the science department. And the math department. The whole school, even. University of Maine, Morgan Beck Branch.” She liked this, had never had this, this joking and laughing and spending carefree time with someone. It was almost easy, to put away years of training and conditioning and just… be. Almost. She couldn’t get past some of it. It was impossible to forget her upbringing, even when she had been spending every day trying to set it aside. “It shouldn’t be a bad thing. I’m learning,” she paused, considering. “I’m learning that.” But she followed after Morgan, trying to think of the best place to find old bones. They were heading the right way, she was sure of it. She’d fallen asleep one night in the lake and drifted this way, waking up and screaming when she saw human remains littering the lake floor. It had been… a lot, in the moment. It should be better, now that she was expecting it. “I can do really old.” She stopped swimming for a moment, considering Morgan’s words. “Yes? I mean, I’ve already talked about it, and, really, it was awful, but I think I could do it again.” She thought about Q’s reaction, his desire to “help” her, almost constantly. She could only imagine that it would be worse in person. “Please don’t be upset with me?”

“Don’t forget my statue,” Morgan said, giggling. “And one for you too, as my posthumous benefactor, obviously.” She rotated into an awkward backstroke so she could appreciate the look on Mina’s face. She hadn’t seen her this relaxed before, and wondered if it was literally being in her natural element or if things had really improved that much for her. She stopped when Mina did, looking at her thoughtfully. She didn’t know what to think of ‘awful but would do again.�� Were all fae so ready to hurt or sacrifice themselves for others?

“Hey…” Morgan swam over so they were close enough to touch hands. “Why would I be upset? Whatever’s going on, I’d like to help you if I can. If it’s about your dad’s visit, or something else, okay? That’s what friends do, right? We help each other.”

“Oh, obviously,” Mina said. She’d like to keep up this line of conversation, the lighter line of conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the fact that she’d made a stupid, stupid promise just in order to feel accepted. She definitely didn’t want to talk about how it was going to kill her. “I did something that’s-- that’s really, really dumb.” Mina laughed a bit, nervously. “I mean, my dad coming isn’t exactly great news, though I’m happy to see him! I mean, I would be happy to see him, but I--” This was actually a bit harder to do in person, especially when Morgan so obviously cared. Mina didn’t know… She didn’t know how to explain this. “I made him a promise that I don’t intend to keep and it’s--” she looked at their hands. “I just don’t intend to keep it. So, I’m having to, you know, deal with it.”

“Dumb…” Morgan repeated, looking puzzled at her friend. That didn’t really gel with what she knew about Mina, who was so anxious to the point of overthinking. She was more than capable in a crisis, even if it had cost her an abundance of trauma. “Okay. Still concerned, but not upset…” And then Mina explained, at least explained in the broad sense. “Wait, ‘deal with it’? Mina, couldn’t breaking a promise kill you?” It had only been a few words, but Morgan’s voice was already shrill with alarm, enough to worry the birds above them. Not upset. Right. “Okay! Still not upset, strictly speaking! More like mega concern? I mean, is there a way to wriggle around this promise? Is there a reason this is really worth risking your life for, Mina? Can I do something to save you? Or can someone else? Maybe there’s a loophole! Wording from promises is really critical, right?”

“Promises don’t always kill people.” Mina said quickly. “Breaking a promise is kind of an equivalent exchange kind of thing. The more severe the promise, the more severe the consequence of breaking it.” That made it seem like it wasn’t so bad, right? Even though it was actually quite terrible! “My dad’s raised a Fae child for years. Trust me, he’s well-versed in wording and making sure things stick.” She gave a shaky sigh. “It was dumb. I didn’t think so, at the time, but it was-- Reckless. It was--” Usually, being in the water helped calm MIna down, but this was really making it worse. “Horrible. It’s a horrible promise, and I shouldn’t have made it, but just wanted.” This was the opposite of calming, actually. It was even worse than talking about it with Q because at least with him she didn’t have to say it. He knew.  “I wanted so bad to be accepted and welcomed and loved, and so I did it.”

“Oh, right,” Morgan said, not sure how much better she was supposed to feel about that. “Sometimes they just make you really sick or hurt. But if there’s no loophole--” Then Mina was stuck, either hurting herself or doing whatever it is she didn’t want to do anymore. Given who made her do it, Morgan could only imagine that it had something awful to do with violence and killing fae. As she listened to Mina explain herself, Morgan’s heart ached and broke. She brought her arms around Mina and hugged her gently, even as they began to sink a little into the water. “I’m so sorry, Mina. How bad is it going to be for you? Are you going to be able to survive? I can see if I can hide you at my house, or if we can get you out of town for a little while. You shouldn’t have to hurt like this just to be loved, or cared for. And you don’t, okay? You don’t have to do that. I promise.”

“I release you from your promise,” Mina said immediately, not wanting Morgan to be bound to something so abstract. If anyone knew the trouble of promises, it was Mina, and she refused to have someone bound to her. “It’s-- I’m--” she laughed a bit wetly as Morgan wrapped her arms around her, and it wasn’t from the water. “I’m so bloody stupid, Morgan. I’m so stupid.” Would her dad even be surprised when she failed him? Or would he just see a monster he tried to love but couldn’t, just like her mother. At least he wouldn’t have to kill her if she turned completely bad. At least she had that going for her… She didn’t want to die. “I promised I would kill a Fae, a humanoid one, one that could easily blend in with people, before he came back to White Crest, and I can’t. I can’t do it. I don’t want-- I can’t.”

Morgan continued to hold her, rolling her eyes and groaning as the nix released her from the promise she’d given freely. “You’re not stupid. You’re a person, and you wanted your Dad to be proud of you. You wanted to be loved. Everyone wants that, Mina. You’re not weird or weak for wanting what everyone does.” But that kind of promise--would fae magic really take a life for a life? Would it kill Mina? “And you know you’re not bad for not wanting to go through with something so awful, right? If anything, Mina, you’re too good. And we can find a way to do something about this. We can ask other fae for advice, maybe. We can...figure something out, so you don’t get too hurt. Don’t give up on yourself, please?”

“It’s stupid to make promises when you don’t know if you can go through with something,” Mina said. “I lied to myself for months, which, I mean, I can do that, even if I can’t lie to anyone else, most of the time.” She blinked back a few saltless tears, though a few trailed down her cheeks and mixed with the lake water that she called home. “I don’t feel good. I just feel like an idiot. I should’ve-- It’s not like doing it, killing someone, would change anything.” She felt overwhelmingly bitter. “It doesn’t change anything. I am what I am, for better or worse.” She hung her head, no longer looking at her friend. “I don’t know how to break this. I don’t think I can. And it’s-- I don’t want to die but I can’t-- I won’t. I-- This, it’s me, putting my line in the sand. I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m never doing that.” Mina closed her eyes tightly. “Even if it kills me.”

“I think everyone does that too, lies to themselves,” Morgan said sadly. “But I can tell you from experience that killing someone does make a difference. To how you feel, to how you are. If you ever, ever do something like that, Mina, it has to be something you really want or need to do. And even then--” Morgan squeezed her friend. “It does mean something, Mina, that you choose not to be a part of that. For some people, it can be everything. Who you are is so much more than just your species.” She pressed a kiss to Mina’as head. “Don’t give up yet. You’re still here. Maybe we can find a way. Stranger things have happened before. Come on..” She let them sink beneath the surface and separated enough so they could see one another and smiled warmly and took her hand, nodding what she hoped would be a reassurance. Gesturing onward into the depths, Morgan asked if they could swim together, if they could have more of death than just fear and dread.

“I think that’s the one thing all people have in common.” Mina was pretty sure about this one. Human or supernatural, there was something about lying to themselves that made people, well, people. “I’ve basically killed people. I’ve-- I’ve helped kill people, but I don’t want to do it myself. I can’t. It feels wrong. It’s not defending anyone or helping anyone if it’s just-- just murder.” She allowed herself to sink into the hug, though she didn’t know if she would ever get used to it. Her dad didn’t do hugs. Pats on the shoulder and ‘alright, kiddo’ was the way he showed affection, if he showed affection. She wondered, sometimes, if he ever cared about her at all. She fought with that thought sometimes. Not wanting to think about that, she nodded along to Morgan’s words. “Okay, okay, okay.” She took a few deep breaths as they sunk beneath the surface of the lake. Water and oxygen went in and out of her gills, and she tried to feel peace. Then, she followed Morgan deeper still into the lake. Though she still felt awful, she felt a lot better than she had before. And that wasn’t a lie she was just telling herself.

[worseandworser]

Ruta graveolens - Patience

ship: Roy Mustang/Edward Elric

Summary: Roy Mustang wishes God would stop laughing at him. He doesn’t get it. There are millions, billions of people he could have fallen for; people whose love wouldn’t be a parasite ready to consume Roy’s insides with its roots. He is thirty now, and being a tragicomic joke is exhausting.

He pulls his knees against his chest and coughs for a good half-hour.

Rating: Mature

Warnings/tags: Hanahaki disease, angst, multichapter (2/5)

read on ao3

Roy dreamt with red flames and yellow petals. Sometimes, these two colors would blur and blend to a golden shade.

He smiles when he wakes up. It's a rare occurrence, especially for a soldier, but in slumber, he felt soft touches and heard easy laughs. Roy shoves his head against the pillow and pulls the blanket over his eyes; for the split of a second, he could swear the linens smell like him.

Routine kills the mood though. He has to get out of bed, to shower, to shave, to get dressed. His breathing is making this unsettling wheeze-like noise and he spits two small petals as he brushes his teeth. Roy looks in the mirror and, even if his appearance is as presentable as ever, it still feels like watching a man walking to his own death bed.

Roy checks his pocket watch to calculate exactly how long he has before Jean Havoc shows up. With thirty minutes left, he considers eating so as to not have to deal with headquarters coffee on an empty stomach. He grabs the small plant that rests on the windowsill and heads to the kitchen.

He sets the vase on the counter. Maybe he can actually use it as a spice. A soft laugh escapes his lips at the childish thought of serving food covered with spat leaves.

Midway through frying the eggs, the cough hits him.

Roy barely has time to reach the sink as the bitter taste of blood and rue fill his mouth. This is not normal, he’s never had a fit this early in the morning. And it's a wrecking one; makes him shake and shiver, the bile burns his palate and Roy is utterly repulsed.

He wants to turn the stove off. He wants to sit down and eat his toast and then get to work. He wants to go back to normal, to the same body he had four years ago.

The doorbell rings and a male voice calls:

”Sir?”

Roy turns the tap on, a vain attempt to.hide the signs of the sickness. He drinks water directly from it, cupping his hands and taking them to his lips. After a few gulps, he’s calm enough to stay up without having to lean his whole body against the counter.

The steps to the door feel like a walk through the desert: his throat is dry and he's covered in sweat. As so as he unlocks it, Jean Havoc is on him:

”Chief? You alright? I heard all this—”

Roy takes a shaky breath.

”I’m good, Major.” He steps aside and gestures for the man to follow him inside. ”I was just making breakfast.”

Jean Havoc accompanies him to the kitchen and Roy promptly insists for him to take a seat. There’s rue sticking to his teeth.

The urge comes before he is able to turn the stove off. His throat contracts and he is running for the bathroom. His knees hurt when he falls in front of the toilet and a whole stack of small yellow flowers burn its way through his trachea. Roy just stays there, stuck between coughing and retching, and it feels like dying. And Roy knows a lot about dying.

Jean Havoc then makes his – very unwanted – appearance. The Major doesn't utter a single word and Roy is so, so grateful for it. Instead, he kneels by his commanding officer's side; one hand on his shoulder, the other gently supporting the man’s forehead.

And it feels like fucking dying.

”Since when...?”

”It’s a recent thing.”

”Are you sure? It didn't seem like it.”

”Yes, I am, very.”

”...”

”...”

”Sir, I know a guy who—”

”That’s good for you, Major.”

On the ride to headquarters, Roy makes Havoc promise not to tell Riza. An hour after lunch, he finds out he has no trustworthy subordinates.

Hawkeye is preying on him. He knows she is and she probably knows that he knows and that’s why she makes no effort in hiding her intentions: putting Roy on edge so she can strike when he’s most vulnerable. Roy leaves the door to the inner office open so he can keep an eye on her, for the time being. He expects it, and it makes the whole thing feel like a waiting line to death penalty. As his fellow soldiers leave for their respective homes, Roy’s mental countdown gets lower and lower.

She is the last one beside Roy and she barely gives him time to come up with proper excuses. As soon as he stands up, she’s already on the door, holding the keys and reaching for their coats. They leave the grey building and Roy tugs at his lapels to adjust them. It’s too cold for autumn, and his lips feel so dry they might crack. His throat is still irritated from the morning’s coughing fit, and itch only makes him want to cough more.

“Should I drive today, sir?”

Being enclosed in a metal box with the only one in the world who scares him enough to not fight back and even give her the full control over speed and direction?

“Sure.”

They get inside and she locks the doors. There is no sound of an engine being turned on.

“We need to talk, Roy.”

Riza says that in her this-is-final tone, he one that does not allow protests. She rarely calls him by his first name, and for some reason, it seems much more solemn than sir. He nods.

“It’s getting worse.” Roy opens his mouth but she doesn’t miss a beat. “Don’t try and make it less worrying, you know it is.”

“It was time already, all things considered.”

“Roy, this is serious.” She looks him dead in the eyes, lips curled slightly downwards and brows furrowed. “You know the numbers and it’s been four years. I’m really sorry, but you need to make a move.”

Roy is reminded of golden eyes and a body that dances whilst fighting. His breath comes out in a short puff, as if he’d been punched. He can’t do this. He can’t rip this feeling out, he would never dare to. It would feel like giving up the last scraps of humanity left on his soul, like burning a hole through his chest, and brain, and heart. Roy belongs to love, just like fish belong to water and birds belong to the sky.

“You want me to get surgery.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“...”

“...”

“I can’t do that either.”

She doesn’t protest; just turns the car on and drives. Roy wants her to though, he really does. He wishes she would look at him with that you-are-being-so-stupid look, or scold him into obedience. She wants her to tell him that he would understand, and he would do his best to help Roy. But they’ve had this conversation before, and Roy had been very emphatic with his objections. It wasn’t that he was afraid of judgement. Hewould never do such thing to Roy, would never laugh at the man’s face or call him degenerated names. No, he was a good, decent person – and Roy is genuinely afraid he is too good and too decentto just reject him like it ought happen.

Riza keeps giving him sympathetic sideway glances and it would be annoying if it wasn’t so unnerving.

“If all you wanted to do was to feel sorry about me, Riza, I could have walked home alone and felt a lot of it for myself.”

Roy can tell that she would be rolling her eyes if she wasn’t so keen on keeping her composure.

“I’m not feeling sorry for you.”

The lack of complacency in her speech almost makes Roy believe her.

“Yes, you are, that’s just how everyone feels towards people with terminal illn—“

“It is not terminal.”

“In my case, it is.”

“That’s where you are mistaken.”

Roy stares at her, cautious and bordering anxiety.

“What do you mean with that?”

There’s a period of silence, and Roy starts to believe she won’t answer at all. It takes long enough for him to come up with the most unsettling possibilities, but too short for him to get prepared for the worst:

“I called him.”

A shiver goes down Roy’s spine and he tastes a startling mix of anger and fear. He wants to puke, he wants to puke, he is going to puke—

“Stop the car.”

“Roy, listen—“

“Stop the fucking car, Riza, or I swear to God...”

The machine comes to halt and Roy jumps out of it as a cat jumps out of the water. He wants to go home, he just wants to go home, he wants to go home. There are warm covers to shelter him. There is a green book to entertain him. There is a Ruta graveolens he can admire. There is a bathtub he can drown in or something. He stomps to Riza’s side and knocks hard on the window his fingers feel numb.

“Who gave you the right?!”The wrath is setting in his insides, boiling and corroding everything that resembles self-control. “I trusted you not to tell anyone, and that includes him, you... you...”

“Yes?!” She’s not screaming like him, but her face is acquiring this reddish shade that announces that she wants to. “Go on, tell me, what do you think I am!”

“I trusted you, Riza! Why would you do this? What made you think you even could, this is my choice to—“

“It’s his choice too, you idiot!”

A couple of people passes by and Roy takes a long, deep breath.

“Did you really make yourself believe he wouldn’t find out? Because, I’ll tell you, he will and he won’t carry on as if nothing had ever happened.” It’s not only anger she’s feeling, Roy can tell. He wants to give a name to the emotion and he can’t and that annoys him more than it should. “I know you would never want to destroy his life like this, Roy, I know, but if you keep this up you will.”

He wants to puke, oh god, oh god...

“I know it’s your choice, and I respect that. What I wish you would understand is that he’s got a say in this too and you need to listen. Hanahaki is not an individual disease, Roy, it affects two people at the same time.”

There are tears welling up in his eyes and the tight knot on his throat hurts so bad, so bad.

“Come on, get back inside. You can’t walk home like this.”

He hates that she’s right.

The rest of the drive is under an uncomfortable silence. Roy veins are still pumping anger all over his being, but the there’s an edge of fear that won’t stop growing. Riza’s right, Riza’s right and he wants to scream like a bratty child because it’s so unfair.

She stops by his house. The look he’s given dares him to fix his damn mess like the good adult he’s supposed to be. The world won’t stop moving even if he uses his best rhetoric to try to convince it to stop. Roy walks to the doorway and wonders how much exactly she told him.

He hears the car leaving and there’s a figure sitting on the front steps, legs stretched forward and shoulders slumped. He stands up when Roy approaches. The lack of tight leather jeans is the first thing Roy notices. The young man has grown a bit, though he still can’t be considered tall or stand face to face to Roy. Golden hair is great under the streetlights.

Edward Elric looks him in the eyes and he’s got the most vacant expression Roy has ever seen him wear.

“We need to talk.”

A lot of people have been saying that to him recently, he should probably start to worry.

[swanky-batman]

Letters to Thorin 1/2

Thorin Oakenshield x Reader (The Hobbit)

Warnings: probably crime, violence, some swearing and drinking

Y/N finds a way to communicate with the sometimes too rough Thorin. I hope you enjoy @notmyfault404 :D Part 2 will come soon!

Masterlist

Part 2

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

You knocked on the door, getting a husky, “Come in.”

“Thorin?” You ask, popping your head in, your breath catching.

“Who is asking?” He turned, a slight pout on his face as you saw the scar on his chest.

“I’m Y/N- we haven’t met face to face yet.”

“Y/N-” His eyebrows raised and his look softened. “You’ll have to excuse me… I can hardly believe you’re here.” He walked closer to you.

------5 months ago--------

You had received word from Gandalf that he was going to need help from everyone he trusted. He gave you a detailed account of things that had been going on and asked you for a list of tasks to help- and they weren’t easy.

He needed you to go and ask different groups to join in the fighting and help, as well as help Radagast.

You set off not twenty-four hours later and began on your journey. You had packed, making sure to include a pen and paper so your Raven, Jax, could deliver letters to the traveling party.

The first few with regular updates went to Gandalf and he did very little to respond to him- but then Thorin Oakenshield himself decided to answer.

Lady Y/N,

Please do not think me intrusive for directing letters to you myself now, but Gandalf seems preoccupied and with the assistance you are offering us I figured you could use an actual update on matters.

We are currently traveling now, having just had some dealings with orcs and Radagast the Brown. He seems like a strange fellow although he is attempting to be helpful I suppose.

We had run into some trolls who attempted to eat not only some of our horses- but two of our company and our master burglar. Luckily, no harm came to them, although I cannot say the same for the trolls. After searching and finding their cave, we came off with three new elvish forged weapons- much to my dismay.

Your raven seems very well trained, do you mind if I ask how you came about it?

This is our current report and I must say I probably chatted on for too long, forgive me.

Signed,

Thorin Oakenshield

You grinned at the letter, he seemed like much more fun to write to than Gandalf so you took out your pen and paper and started.

Lord Thorin,

I am pleased to find more than a quick line scratched in to let me know Gandalf and company are not dead. It would give me great pleasure in writing to you in future, if it suits you as well.

Trolls, eh? Not too shabby of a take-away although I have heard dwarvish forged is the way to go. Alas, I cannot ask for an unbiased opinion from you since you clearly are in possession of an Elvish weapon now.

Orcs can be a bit of a hassle but the one I am truly curious about is Radagast- I am set to meet him soon enough and am quite at a loss for how another wizard is going to be. Is he anything like Gandalf? How will I know when I’ve met him?

I thank you kindly on mine and Jax (my raven’s) behalf, he is a swell companion. He flies rather swiftly and prefers traveling rather than staying put so the more I give him to do, the better. I actually found him after a hunter was shooting an arrow in the woods and missed, damaging his wing. My legs moved for me and I was trying to take care of him at home before I knew what I had done. I tried to set him free after I helped him and he’ll leave for little spurts at a time but he always comes back to me.

I rather like that you’re chatty- seeing as you have 13 other traveling companions and I only have the letters Jax brings me and occasional people when I arrive in the places I am supposed to.

If you have time, I’d rather like to hear about your companions as well as yourself.

Signed,

Y/N Y/L/N

You nodded and the next morning before setting off, sent Jax off. You continued down your path to a group of waters that met, attempting to talk to the river-maids. You had actually never met one before in person and were curious to see if Gandalf had been misplaced in his ideas.

You breathed, attempting to follow through the instructions Gandalf gave you. You chanted, leaning over the water and placing your hand in it.

“Uhm- What are you doing?” A woman from across the water asked and you jumped.

You laughed, “You wouldn’t believe I was trying to summon River-maids, do you?”

She frowned, “What would you want with them, anyways?”

“Gandalf the Grey sent me.” Her eyes shifted and her jaw set.

“You… you are one, aren’t you?” You asked, looking her over. She looked very similar to a human- you talked with her and after a while, she brought you towards a group of them.

You talked with them, trying to convince them to help when the time came.

After another day with them, they said they would send some help. You received another letter as you waved to the woman in the cabin. You opened the letter at midday, interested to see what had happened.

Lady Y/N,

I must admit, I enjoyed the last letter you sent much more than the first- your tone seems to be renewed. It had given me a much needed laugh after my last letter as we were attacked yet again by Orcs.

Radagast sent us towards a passage and, aside from a defensive claim made by Gandalf, we ended up right on the border of Rivendell. With the elves, as if I didn’t have enough hanging off my belt to remind me of them. Everything here is glowing- literally. The city sparkles. Have you been to Rivendell?

Radagast will not be a problem to spot- he has to be one of the only human figures in that forest, set aside the fact he has animals running towards him all the time. Follow the animals, find Radagast.

I feel like I should get a treat or something for Jax every time he’s here- he seems to like me somewhat which makes me pleased.

Have you made progress on your tasks? I know Gandalf gave you a lot to do, I hope you are not feeling overwhelmed.

As for my companions and I, we are all quite… short. Most of us have beards, and we all like drinking. Fili and Kili are kin to me, but everyone else is like a brother. I’ve known them all for some time, except our Master thief, Bilbo Baggins the Hobbit. He seems alright as well, for someone who is not of our people. As for myself, I’m a dwarf- through and through.

It seems a bit silly now, saying all of this not knowing what kind you are from. I do not mean offense to other races, and am glad of the assistance of everyone. Would it be bold for me to ask where you are from? I do enjoy writing to you and have noticed my letter becoming increasingly longer.

I hope I am not boring you, this is the longest I’ve ever written I believe.

Looking forward to hearing from you soon.

Signed,

Thorin Oakenshield

A smile spread across your face multiple times throughout the letter- he was joking with you.

---

Another month passed and you had been chatting often with Thorin. You started another letter upon leaving Radagast.

Dear Thorin,

Your letters have been keeping me interested in the otherwise lonely trip over the last week. I have came into contact with no one since the last letter you sent. To be honest, rereading your letters has become a pastime of mine since there is little else I have of companionship.

It sounds strange to my ears that I could cherish a friendship formed in such a trying time with miles between us, but I do.

I realized I still have never answered your question as to what I am or what I look like- and I think at this point that you shall tell me no more of yourself physically and I will tell you nothing of me. I will meet you when we have finally recaptured what is yours and we will both be off guard. Does this sound sufficient to you?

Radagast is very… easy to spot. Could it be his sleigh that opened it up for no question? In a couple of days I shall be off again, making my way slightly closer to all of you. Where are you now? What has passed? You wrote very little in your last letter that I have been making assumptions and trying to examine what I do not see.

I hope I do not come off needy, and I will indeed write you again soon once I get on my way.

Waiting on your response.

Signed,

Y/N

You sent it out and got some things together, figuring out what to do.

In another day you received a letter back from Jax.

“That was quick, boy.” You offered him a treat to nibble on and he took it as you set out, trying to stop yourself from opening the letter at the news.

You moved on and to a smaller group of men that were supposed to aid Gandalf when he called for it. Midday, you decided finally to rest and pulled out the letter.

Lady Y/N,

I am glad to receive news from you, even after a difficulty befell us. I apologize for my last response as we did not have the time to stop for any longer- I hoped short news was better than no news to my favorite part of the days.

I confess I have also reread your letters and while I am not alone and surrounded by people, your letters are a great comfort to me.

I feel ashamed, however. You had been busy and I had not the time to write for a small amount of time and I fear I was snappy to one of our company, Master Baggins. In doing so, it led him away from us for a short amount of time and we had gotten captured in a weird underground lair.

We escaped, just barely, thanks to the assistance of Gandalf. We were backed up into a corner, fighting. And then something happened, something I did not expect- Bilbo Baggins from the Shire saved my life. We escaped on birds although I was slightly injured. Nothing serious, of course- one knows your imagination likes to run.

We can see it- Y/N. Our home, close enough to see it. I wish you could be here with us at the moment and I could point it out to you, it’s magnificent. In some ways it reminds me of you, parts of it are mysterious and dark with waves of beauty running through it.

This sounds silly, I know I cannot know all of this about you. I just feel a connection with you from my very core, which is strange for my kind.  There is so much I feel I can talk to you about, so much more than if you were here. Maybe it is because I cannot see your reaction, however much I wish for you fast response.

Please, tell me I am not the only one with these strong feelings- that you feel something deeper than friendship for me as well. Tell me I am not fooling myself.

I can hardly await your response, whatever it might be.

Signed,

Thorin

Your heartbeat quickened, your cheeks filling with a blush. You wished to write a response but did not know where to start. You decided to wait until a little later- you walked and got to the place you needed to go for a ride. You rode part way through the night and got where you needed to be, ordering a large drink and finishing it before writing your response.

Dearest Thorin,

My Thorin,

You rubbed your head, crumpling the paper and grabbing a new one.

Thorin,

Your latest letter has given me much to think about, you have had quite the adventure. I really do not know where to begin.

I am glad to hear you are not harmed severely or I would have to harm you myself. You promised me a meeting after you win your home back, if you do not forget.

I have had a fairly dull adventure compared to all of you- I’ve mostly been debating with people on helping or not. I wish to see your home and ride on an eagle- let alone see the arches you mock in Rivendell. Alas, I have seen rivers and plains and hills and small villages. And Radagast, but you had already seen him as well.

I feel a strong connection with you too, although I hadn’t dared to dream you felt the same way about me. Could this be real? Could a dwarf I have never met and who has never laid eyes on me feel for me as I do, him? I wish there were not still months ahead of us to be apart yet I wish never to stop this writing with you. I am among some people now but I wonder what a night in your company would hold.

I wish for an eagle to pick me up and fly me to you so that we may chat- but I know how important numbers are going to be in the final battle and know my duty and pledge.

The only thing I wish is that I do not disappoint you when we meet- I hope you have not gotten an idealistic view of me in your head to which I will not fit.

At least for this trip, if nothing more, we are bound. If you meet me and wish me to go, I will. For the remainder of this trip, I wish to remain tied to you Thorin Oakenshield.

Yours,

Y/N

Before your buzz on your third large beer could wear off you sent Jax off. A blush remained on your cheeks as you looked through his last letter again.

-----------

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[aion-rsa]

Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale Review

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This RICK AND MORTY review contains spoilers.

Rick and Morty Season 5 Finale

It’s been a while, so let’s first recap the consistent problems with season five of Rick and Morty. Problem one is that characterization feels like it’s either pushed aside in favor of crazy, silly sci-fi nonsense or lost in a muddle of convoluted sci-fi nonsense. Problem two is that episodes are so overloaded with plot and dialogue delivered at such breakneck speed that there’s either no time for jokes or, packed in with everything else going on in these overstuffed episodes, they just don’t land. The missing characterization issue isn’t exclusive to season five, but the lack of laughs is; this has easily been the least-funny season yet.

Now, finally, after a month’s wait, we get the two-part season finale! Does it manage to avoid the problems that have haunted this season until now?

Not really! But some of it certainly looked cool.

“Forgetting Sarick Mortshall”

Though they’re both about testing the strength of Rick and Morty’s relationship and the first does directly lead into the next by virtue of… crows… these really are two separate episodes with two different focuses and tones. This first one is closer to a “normal” season five episode. Sure, it’s got Rick pissing Morty off so much that he goes off on his own anti-Rick adventure (with a dude fittingly named Nick), but, for the majority of the runtime, it’s not handled like it’s all that big of a deal.

Regardless, the inciting incident here of Morty accidentally getting portal juice on his hand, thus creating a portal in his hand that connects to Nick’s thigh is a really clever one. It’s unfortunate that an odd side effect of a series with a premise that allows for infinite sci-fi possibilities is that many concepts, no matter how much creative effort is put behind them, feel like retreads that fall into a similar category (e.g., the season premiere with its Narnia world that evolved at hyper-speed felt not entirely dissimilar from the sequence of Morty living an entire life in “The Vat of Acid Episode” which, in turn, felt not so dissimilar from that time he played Roy: A Life Well Lived). However, this portal in the hand thing feels totally new and fresh.

They get some good mileage out of it too, with some cool action sequences (like Jackie Chan!) and inspired moments like Morty making a dude eat shit, literally, by transferring the contents of a chamber pot by way of the hand/thigh portal system or when Nick takes control of the car Morty’s driving by sticking his hand through Morty’s portal hand. It’s also used smartly in the most effective dramatic moment in “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall” when Morty chooses to destroy his portal connection to Rick by placing his hand on a train track so that it’s severed off, and then drops the hand-portal into Nick’s thigh-portal to kill him. It’s all very clever, well-executed stuff, though, typing it out, it sure sounds weird.

How Morty comes to the decision to sever his hand and connection to Nick is less well-executed. It unfortunately brought to mind the episode with Planetina, perhaps the worst of season five, as in both episodes Morty realizes the person he’s spending time with ain’t so great because—shock horror—they’re cool with killing innocent people! Yes, Morty has a moral core, so it’s not like it doesn’t make some sense, but it’s just that, with the amount of people he and Rick murder out of petty anger or just by happenstance all the time, it feels like they need to sell his change of heart a little more.

The other half of this episode is about Rick replacing Morty with two crows, at first as a joke, but then he gradually comes to realize crows are actually cool and can teach him about empathy. The idea of it is that this “two crows” thing is engineered to be a silly, one-off inanity, but then the joke becomes so much more as the writers sincerely explore the concept. However, it never really successfully elevates itself above its initial inane premise. I still just found myself thinking “What is this crow bullshit? Why crows?”

It’s also becoming a bit of a predictable Rick and Morty staple that characters that appear incidental at first actually have a whole society and way of life we get to learn all about (the face-huggers, the Narnia people, the Chuds). It’s an obvious plot device to return to seeing as this is a sci-fi series about visiting new universes and alien worlds all the time, so it would be irrational to suggest they stop doing it altogether, but did this particular plot really need to go in that direction? The introduction of the crow society comes out of nowhere and it isn’t convincing that Rick decides to follow a path of empathy with his two crows right after he just killed a whole bunch of other crows. Anyway, the only thing that makes the crow plot “interesting” is that the writers commit to it so hard it carries into the next episode.

Season five style, “Forgetting Sarick Mortshall,” is not funny. I chuckled at the very last moment in the tag when Garbage Goober said “Mmm, trash, I love trash” and I smiled at Rick’s (possibly improv’d) rant about watching sitcoms on your shoes, but that was about it. Still, at least there were the aforementioned clever moments and it got a tiny bit emotional when Morty told Rick “I miss you, man” and when Rick admitted their relationship was abusive.

“Rickmurai Jack”

Lore, lore, lore! How do you like it? Hopefully you like it lots because “Rickmurai Jack” is chock full of the stuff!

The Rick and Morty team, however, absolutely hate it! Well, they can’t totally hate it, or they wouldn’t have bothered to make this episode, but they definitely have an acrimonious relationship with continuity and canon. Dan Harmon has stated before that giving Rick a tragic backstory would ruin the character and Rick himself reaffirms that opinion in the episode. In fact, the writers can’t help themselves in breaking the fourth wall throughout to remind us how much Rick hates canon and how it’s better to “keep it episodic.”

It’s understandable why they resent canon. It’s got to be much easier to write one-off, funny sci-fi adventures than to sustain serialized plots told over multiple episodes. Unfortunately for them, way the hell back in season one Rick and Morty destroyed their universe, killed alternate universe versions of themselves, and took their places. The series kept this plot point intact, referencing it later, and also gradually made Morty’s character more jaded in response to this, as well as the many other horrors he witnessed. In other words, they made this canon bed and now they have to have adventures in it (I know how this sounds and I’m fine with it).

Before it gets to all that serious canon, however, “Rickmurai Jack” has to honor the continuity of the previous episode by tidying away the stupid crow plot. The continuity is certainly sound: the crows weren’t funny in the last episode and they’re not funny in this one either! There’s an anime intro. There are villains whose names flash on the screen in big letters. There’s an arch-villain named CrowScare who has sex with Rick’s crows. Yeah. Fine. At least this part is done away with relatively quickly. (Side note: Odd that Rick becomes a bird-based superhero and yet there is nary a reference to Bird Person.)

Read more

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By Alec Bojalad

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Rick and Morty Season 5: Bruce Chutback Gets the Show Back on Track

By Alec Bojalad

After this, the episode maintains the season five status quo by continuing to be unfunny. I don’t believe I laughed at this one at all, although I liked Evil Morty’s line, “I lied. That second seat’s a toilet.” The lack of comedy is a bit more forgivable, however, as “Rickmurai Jack” isn’t trying as hard to be funny. This really is the loreiest lorepisode they’ve ever done and so the focus is on backstory and continuity to do with Evil Morty’s long-gestating plan.

As one of the annoying nerds constantly complaining that this show doesn’t do enough character development anymore, I know I’m supposed to be thankful for this episode (Rick angrily says as much) and I am, somewhat. It’s cool to see Evil Morty again and to hear his awesome theme music. Personally, I was never asking for Rick backstory and I’m a bit surprised his origins more or less are just the easy answer of “dead wife” after all, but sure, that’s fine. More profound and fucked up is the origin of all the Mortys in the multiverse, engineered by Ricks to be the perfect sidekick.

I just wish all this development hadn’t been given to me, season five style, in such volume at such speed. The fact of the matter is I was straight-up confused about what the hell was going on sometimes. I understood Evil Morty’s plan enough to get that he’s extricating himself from the cycle of Ricks and Mortys (and maybe ending the cycle forever?), but where did he fly to? Did he kill every Rick and Morty ever except our protagonists and whoever they escaped with or just everyone in the Citadel for some reason? Did he remove all portal fluid from the multiverse? I also lost the plot of Rick’s backstory, not understanding why he was going around killing all these other Ricks until I watched it back and realized he was going after the Rick who had killed his wife and kid Beth; I still feel it could’ve been more clearly presented though. Also confusing was the sequence in Rick uses some of his blood to create Big Boy(?) who… transfers power to Rick when he’s attacked… or something?

Look, I know how this goes. I’m a stupid moron and the nerds in the comments will be more than ready to let me know that everything that was confusing to me was, in fact, completely obvious, duh-doy, and here’s why and I should stop watching the series, and so on, and so forth. However, something I’ve always marveled at (as I did only two episodes ago) with Rick and Morty is, despite how crazy and layered its ambitious plotting gets, I never lose track of what’s happening. So, either my very high IQ is dropping points or this shit was kind of confusing.

Regardless, it’s appreciated the creators of this show finally gave in and threw a bunch of continuity and canon in my whining face. It just would’ve been nicer if it had been delivered in a clearer way that was easier to process and to feel something about. Like, every time Evil Morty has appeared in the series, he’s been an intimidating and chilling presence. I did get chills when his theme song kicked in this time, but that was more of a Pavlovian response earned from his previous appearances. Otherwise, I was just bewildered by all the information being chucked at me. Still, if nothing else, it was certainly a cool-looking spectacle.

What’s best about this episode is what it sets up for the next season. Who knows how long they’ll stick with this, but it’s implied that Rick is out of portal juice, which makes him that much less god-like and which could maybe, finally, reintroduce some actual stakes into Rick and Morty instead of every episode being about a sarcastic unstoppable murderous sci-fi family. I truly do look forward to that.

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The other best thing is Mr. Poopybutthole’s profound advice that we should be brave enough to love the people who love us back. Thank you for your wisdom, Mr. Poopybutthole.

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