#not all the apocalyptic stuff. that nonsense can wait

[animezinglife]

Headcanon: Cullen didn't actually realize Dorian is gay and was using the opportunity of playing chess with him to both gauge what kind of relationship he had with the Inquisitor (since the two are attached at the hip) and to learn more about her.

Dorian figured this all out in about five seconds and had entirely too much fun with it.

[dirkjakeweekly]

DIRKJAKE FIC RECS

This is a rebloggeable version of our sidebar page reproduced in full, for those who prefer to save things on their own blogs for later!

INTRO

This page is not intended to be an encyclopedia, but rather a non-exhaustive list of a few Dirkjake Fanfics (and Fancomics) for those that may be interested in the ship, but a little too tired of trawling through AO3 search! Some of these contain NSFW or suggestive content, viewer discretion is advised.

[ FIC RECS (last updated Jan 2021, click readmore for full list) ]

It’s only a canvas sky

Their guardians dead at the hands of the Condesce, growing up in the shadow of her slow takeover of the Skaian Federation, Dirk Strider and Jake English have spent their whole lives alone up until shortly before their twelfth birthdays.

Or: Dirk fixes a transmitter, makes a friend, builds a robot, and tries to communicate affection over distance to the barest possible minimum.

Read here!

GOD’S BRAND NEW FATE SELECTOR (Fancomics)

In ONE PARTICULAR TIMELINE, detached from many similar ones, an aspiring divorcee stands by his baby’s cradle and attempts to hatch an escape plan with some aid from the ghost of his long-deceased boyfriend. He’s not exactly helpful.

SOMEWHERE ELSE ENTIRELY, Dirk Strider is overcame by the nagging feeling his splinters may be getting a little out of hand and far too into his head, when he gets a booty call.

One timeline is Epilogues-Compliant, another Epilogues-Divergent. 

Read here!

We’re All Friends & Family Here (And Frankly, We’re Sick Of Your Shit)

It’s been about a year since the big Fast Forward, and sure, things on Earth C aren’t perfect for everyone. But they’re fine. Really. It’s fine. Everything is super fuckin’ swell, and that’s that.

It’s not like one night is going to change anything.

Read here!

Perpetuity

“Call it a car crash waiting to happen, you’ll just call it your downfall”

Dirk is a romantic, just not a particularly optimistic one.

(Written pre-epilogues release, post-game, fix-it)

Read here!

Tailspinning Into the Epilogues with Dirk and Jake (complete series)

Read here!

Stark Nonfiction (Part of the Tailspinning series)

Jake tries his hand at a gentler epilogue.

Read here!

Between the Lines (Part of the Tailspinning series)

“It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I felt so at peace, I guess. It was such a lovely jaunt with Jade, and instead of being all torn up about coming home, I feel even better, now. It’s actually been a real while and a half since I felt… bad, you know? Like actually bad.”

You don’t have much in the way of emotional permanence about that sort of thing. Surely it was months ago, when you were staring gloomily at the bottoms of bottles like the world’s most up-his-own-ass useless overdramatic dilettante. Did it even really happen, if it all, in hindsight, just seems like a dumb pantomime of misery to get attention? A successful dumb pantomime of misery to get attention, mind you, you definitely got it, and a boyfriend to boot. Was it ever really as atrocious and apocalyptic and unsurvivable as it seemed?

Read here!

A Palate Cleanser (Part of the Tailspinning series)

ROXY: hay everybody its jakes turn! ROXY: hes got a few words hed like to say about our dear departed buddy

The eulogy we missed on Candy’s page 15.

Read here!

Eschewal

“you hope he’s a benevolent god”

Read here!

Grublr. (Fancomic)

In the consort kingdom, atop of the large, humongous mansion where the god of Hope lives, there is an apartment complex.

Read here!

The Hitchhikers Guide to Your Ex-Boyfriend (Fancomic)

Jake English waking up sore and alone on a cold floor is not a strange occurrence for him as of late. The ethereal beam of light and sluggishly churning floor is new, but he’s woken up in stranger places.

If circumstances were better he’d probably have something shocked and relevant to say about this strange landscape he’s found himself in, but circumstances are in fact legendarily shit right now.

(A comic/fic where Jake English gets rights)

Read here!

The Four Kings, the God Thief, and the Black Diamond Pirates

Dirk and Vriska have it good. They raid ships, pillage merchant vessels, constantly poison each other, possess a lucrative pact with the Wind King, sing a lot of dope fuckin’ sea shanties, and captain a loveable crew of pirate scum. They’re ready to kick back, take it easy, and become the vile and revered scourge of the diamond trading line.

Then they find someone in the water.

Read here!

Sea shanties for Thots (Four Kings continuation)

Jake English has never done anything wrong, ever, in his life, if you don’t count literally all that stuff from the first installment of oxfordRoulette’s diegetic-musical-cum-found-family-pirate-AU. Luckily, that was in the last story, and he is completely better now in all respects. None of that nonsense is a thing anymore and it will not be relevant at all! Surrounded by friends and allies, with a very cool piratey boyfriend and a hold full of treasure from his recently decimated country, he’s got everything a fellow could want.

What will he do?

Befriend an octopus god. Learn to fish. Kick back. Take it easy. Kiss his boyfriend a lot. Open a jewelry company? Pursue immortality. Confront his past. Embrace his future. Maybe save the world. One thing’s for sure: there will be a lot of songs involved.

Read here!

Two idiots at Homoville, N69, TX

In a moment of desperation, Dirk goes on r/relationships. Things get oversharey real quick. He types as follows:

“I [23M] cannot understand my [24M?] roommate. He is the most bizarre man to ever set foot on earth and I’m afraid I’m losing him.”

or, and They Were Roommates.

Read here!

Drive it home with one headlight

Some mistakes are so fucking big that they divert the path of your life entirely, sending you somewhere you were never meant to go. Some mistakes are so seismic and so obvious that when you look back on your life all you can see is the beacon where you made them. Some mistakes leave you so far off course you don’t even recognize who you are or why you’re still here.

You don’t usually get a chance to make amends.

Read here!

A Tallied List of Various Occasions in Which Jake English Encountered the Elusive Smile Belonging to One Dirk Strider

Jake English, explorer extraordinaire, tracks down the most unique treasure of all: a nerd in pointy sunglasses.

Read here!

BONES OF BLACK MARROW

Dirk summons a demon for the exclusive purpose of ‘cathartic boning.’ He gets what he wants.

NOTE: This fic is ergodic (think House of Leaves), which means it cannot be downloaded for offline perusal on your kindle/pdf reader. Also has CYOA elements, so clicking “Entire Work” will make the fic impossible to read.

Read here!

fire fly

A wedding. An anxiety attack. A daring tryst.

Read here!

DIRK TOPS (Fancomic)

Ever think about how Dirk Strider got full narrative awareness of the fanfics where he’s the big scary hunk in charge and went “I can do that” when he wasn’t, in fact, able to do that? i do. i think about that.

Read here!

MLM stands for Moron loving Moron (Fancomic)

aren’t you TIRED of longing? don’t you just want to go APESHIT while dating your best bro? i mean, you’ve earned it, right? (Collection of oneshot comics. marked as complete, updates whenever)

Read here!

fist is a four letter word

Jake’s face quirks. “App?“ 

“Yeah, app. Like, application. You know your phone can do other things right? Like, apps.”

“You sure do keep using that word! I’m not quite sure I understand what you mean.”

“You know, apps.” You try to think of how to explain apps. You suddenly can’t think of what apps are.

What’s the name of an app.

Literally just name any app.

He’s staring at you.

Oh my god.

Read here!

Witching Hour

There’s something almost magical about that time between too late at night and too early in the morning. It’s the perfect time to meet a stranger and go on an adventure.

Read here!

[ghostypau]

Loki Ep. 2 Thoughts

There’s going to be spoilers so... you know, ignore this if you haven’t watched this weeks episode yet.

Ok, I did post a bit at 3am, but now I’m a lot better so... let’s go c: -and sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, english is not my first language xd-

Loki and Miss Minutes: it was nice to see those two characters interacting with eachother, also, Loki trying to hit Miss Minutes with a magazine was hilarious.

Loki watched instructional videos: Gosh, he recited those from memory! and the looks of everyone were like “how tf this variant memorized all of that”. This makes me think something like the Clockwork Orange like foring Loki to watch that stuff -I don’t think they did but still-

Judge Ravonna Renslayer and Mobius: Their relationship is interesting, for me it’s like Mobius subtly flirts with the judge but also I can see trust, she trusts him so she lets him keep Variant Loki. I think that has a lot of potential.

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO: I think that someone said that this waas going to be a thing, and it was. Gosh I laughed so much when the song started playing. That scene however, idk if the song fits, a lot of stuff happened and FOR ME the song was distracting a bit.

Renaissance Fair: It was obvious that Loki was trying to deceive the TVA people, that felt a lil bit... pushy? -is that a real word? i think it is- We know that Loki loves to talk, but it was like dumb talk.

TVA Archives/Library: The lady in charge was weird, but funny. “You don’t exist to me unless you ring the bell” and “That’s classified” moments were really fun. Loki reading about the Ragnarok was harsh, for a moment I thought that that moment was going to be like when Mobius showed him the death of his loved ones, literally I was ready to cry but at the end it wasn’t like that (I mean Loki’s affected of course, but not a lot).

Loki Theories: First, poor salad. Second, Loki in that scene was us fans trying to figure out what is going to happen in the show lmao (you can’t change my mind on that!) and Mobius was like someone outside the fandom hearing nonsense.

Pompeii: Chaos to the max, nothing else to say here. Hilarious Loki and Mobius scenes. Must add Loki speaking latin lmao

Multiple apocalyptic events in the future: I’m surprised? No. I’m intrigued? Yes. 2050 it’s not that far... think about it.

“Evil” Loki Variant: There’s a lot to unpack here. Loki using his magic to dry himself lmao. “Evil” Variant powers are intriguing, they possessed 3-4 people while talking to Loki, wow, just wow. Lady Loki (I think it’s Lady Loki, until the show says otherwise) revealed!, I knew this was coming but not so soon D: “This is not about you” I think, she meant that this was not about Tom’s Loki but about Sophia’s Loki.

Multiverse of Madness: Lady Loki unleashed the multiverse in a moment and we see some of the branches (Asgard, Sakaar, Titan...), TVA in chaos... Like Chris Evans said “This is gonna be amazing”. lmao

Cliffhanger/End of episode: Loki will be back at the TVA Mobius, don’t look at him like that. Where did they go? that’s something that we’ll have to wait until next week :c 

Overall a good episode, but imho I think first one was better :P (even tho I was crying while watching it)

I think that’s it for now, I need to watch the episode a second time and take some notes. EDIT: Ok so, aparently it wasn’t Lady Loki it was Sylvie Lushton/Enchantress. How do I know this, the credits lists Sophia DiMartino as “The Variant” but in the Castilian credits is listed as Sylvie.

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima VII Part Two: Serpent Isle (1993)

Summary

Serpent Isle is a direct sequel to the Black Gate. The arrival of the Guardian has been prevented and his cult has been outlawed and disbanded, but his most loyal follower has escaped to a place called the Serpent Isle to enact their backup plan.

But the Serpent Isle is not just an island, it is another world that you find yourself in after sailing your ship between the Serpent Pillars (yes, you get isekai’d while already living in another world).

This strange land is populated by people who fled from your lord long ago, and it seems to be suffering from an apocalyptic event that you soon experience for yourself, as a magical storm teleports your companions away and replaces most of the potent items you arrived with with random junk.

So your goals are clear: Recover your items, find the Guardian’s followers, and try to prevent the world’s destruction.

In many ways, Serpent Isle can feel like a more linear and limited game than the Black Gate (for one, you can’t own and freely sail a ship), but there are actually many things that I think it actually does better.

I played it using Exult and the SI Fixes mod.

Freedom

While Serpent Isle is not fully linear, it is definitely not nearly as open as the Black Gate was.

Where the Black Gate lets you travel nearly anywhere in the world almost immediately, even enabling several forms of transportation for this purpose, Serpent Isle initially allows only one section of the island to be explored with the rest opening up as one progresses through the game.

To its credit, the way in which these areas are locked off are sometimes reasonable and do not feel arbitrary. For instance, Moonshade is an island and nearly every ship in the land have been wrecked by the same magical storms that affected your party at the start of the game, so reaching it is not as simple as just buying a boat and going there.

There are other cases, however, where the restrictions do feel nonsensical. Such as the way the Bull Tower pikemen demand obscene amounts of money for the captain’s release but will happily accept a single much less valuable gold bar instead (since acquiring those is tied to a plot point). Then there’s all the stuff with the Hound of Doskar...

On the positive side, you can deal with various parts of the game in whatever order you desire within these limitations. This includes resolving the central quests in each of the land’s three cities in your own preferred order.

However, the game is still lacking in alternate solutions for quests in general. There are some decisions to be made, but they are rather minor in the grand scheme of things.

Character Creation/Customization

This aspect of the games is just as barebones as the Black Gate. You can only select your name, gender, and portrait. Your starting stats are pre-set and there are no further decisions to be made there.

However, Serpent Isle does have a marginal benefit over the Black Gate in that how you spend your training points matters a lot more, since you can’t just automatically max out your stats by completing the expansion.

Even then, there is not much to the character creation here at all.

Story/Setting

I think this is one of the game’s stronger points. The Black Gate may have had a larger world with more total settlements, but Serpent Isle’s three cities of Monitor, Fawn, and Moonshade are each significantly larger than the average Black Gate town and, most importantly, this world feels more dynamic.

Due to the way many of the game’s quests and events work, Serpent Isle manages to feel more alive than its predecessor. I will not spoil the details, but you often feel like something is always happening and like new developments are organically finding you rather than you having to actively search for them.

As has become typical of the Ultima series, the setting this time around is also centered around virtues, but in this case it goes beyond the Eight Virtues you mastered in the last trilogy.

Serpent Isle’s three cities are inhabited by the descendants of people who fled the reign of Lord British and who resent his edict of the eight virtues. The knights of Monitor considered Valor to be the highest virtue, the sailors of Fawn wanted to elevate Beauty as a virtue, and the mages of Moonshade did not feel that their profession should be associated with the virtue of Honesty.

But in addition to all that, much of the game revolves around learning about and mastering the ancient Ophidian virtue system, which functions differently from what you are used to. 

The Ophidian virtues are divided into Order (Ethicality, Discipline, Logic) and Chaos (Tolerance, Enthusiasm, Emotion). The forces composing both sides must be in balance to achieve a new set of principles (Harmony arising from Ethicality + Tolerance, Dedication from Discipline + Enthusiasm, and Rationality from Logic + Emotion).

The incoming apocalypse you face in the game is the result of a cosmic imbalance in these forces. The ancient Ophidians polarized into Order and Chaos factions that warred each other, with Order winning the war and destroying the Chaos Serpent, which causes the universe to begin unravelling.

While this game does have an antagonist, resolving this imbalance remains the most significant part of the game in terms of story.

The game also has multiple big scripted scenes that did not quite exist in the Black Gate, and the world as a whole changes dramatically partway through as a result of a certain event.

Immersion

As previously mentioned, things like the quest design and more dynamic world can help make this game more immersive than Black Gate in some ways. I am reasonably certain that some of the NPC schedules are a bit more complex this time around as well.

There are also a few new things, such as a frozen wasteland up north that you need warm clothes to traverse without freezing.

Apart from that, all the features mentioned in the Black Gate are still present here, such as weather, day/night cycles, and more.

But really I think one of the most significant differences is actually just the fact that you are significantly less overpowered than in the Black Gate and have less allies. I feel like that changes the feel of the game a lot on its own in ways that have to be experienced to be fully understood.

Gameplay

Combat is, as in Black Gate, automatic and uninteresting, though it is slightly more difficult now overall.

The rest of the gameplay is largely the same as in the Black Gate as well, though dialogue has been slightly expanded with more complex trees.

Really the main difference comes down to the differences in the world and available items rather than any mechanical changes.

Some of the most significant items are a ring (obtained from the Silver Seed expansion) that provides infinite magical reagents and a magical goblet that provides endless nourishment. These things are not nearly as broken as what the Forge of Virtue provides in the Black Gate, but are still nice conveniences.

While this game has less towns than its predecessor, it does have larger and more interesting dungeons overall. The one issue with them is that some of the puzzles in them are not very interesting (often amounting to just placing items on pedestals and such).

This is also where I should talk about one of the game’s major flaws: It is the first one where the influence of Electronic Arts began to manifest. It is nothing too major at this point (just wait until we get to Ultima 8 and especially Ultima 9) but it does mean there are some questlines that were left unfinished due to EA rushing things.

It’s not just questlines either. The towns were supposed to be larger and with more content, the player was meant to eventually gain a ship they could freely sail like in the Black Gate, and a major plot element had to be changed. The Silver Seed expansion in particular feels incomplete and inconsequential in terms of story, and is largely centered around four dungeons to explore for unique loot (both the dungeons and the loot are reasonably good at least).

I also dislike just how many plot-critical items are in the game. I would like to use my backpack space for other things.

The game also offers a decent amount of locations to explore, including many optional curiosities unrelated to the main quest.

Aesthetics

While the engine and graphics are largely the same as in the Black Gate, there have been graphical upgrades, most notably in the form of significantly more detailed and lifelike portraits for NPCs.

But I would say that the biggest aesthetic changes here have more to do with the game’s design and atmosphere. 

Serpent Isle is a far more unfriendly place than Britannia, and you will be accosted by assassins and deceivers during your quest. It makes for a more grim adventure.

The whole game has a much darker tone than any in the series since Ultima 5, I think. The world is completely falling apart due to the imbalance, with storms obliterating Fawn’s fleet, goblins making significant gains in their war against Monitor, and plagues are starting to break out. You do get the sense as you explore the world that this is a land experiencing its final days.

And things only get worse from here too.

I also like how unique several of the locations are. The city of Monitor is not just a walled city, it is populated by knights who organize into three different commands that rule the city. Meanwhile the city of Fawn is completely unlike any other in the series, being built entirely over the sea.

It is good stuff, and I wish they had had the time to expand and develop these locations as they had originally planned.

Accessibility

Exactly as good in this regard as the Black Gate, I think. Even the increased difficulty (which is still not enough to make this a “hard” game by any means) does not really matter since at the start of the game you get a magical hourglass that can be used to resurrect any fallen party members and the local monks will take care of your own mortality as well.

If there’s frustrations to be had here, they may come more from some of the less intuitive puzzles than anything and plot points than anything. The core gameplay is still extremely simple.

While the game can theoretically be played on its own, I strongly recommend playing at least the Black Gate first to learn a little about the events that led to this whole expedition. The two games really are part of the same package.

Conclusion

Between the Black Gate and Serpent Isle, I always got the impression that the Black Gate was the more popular of the two. I can understand why, as Serpent Isle was a bit rushed and lacks the open exploration that has defined the previous games in the series.

Despite this, I remember loving it about as much as the Black Gate largely because of the atmosphere and how the game feels. It is a particularly easy recommendation for those who enjoyed the previous game, as the engine and mechanics remain largely the same.

I also recommend this game for anyone who may be interested in following the story or looking for an immersive experience, but who doesn’t want to bother too much with stuff like combat or numbers. Even just watching the NPCs go about their day can be fun in this game.

[cynthiaandsamus]

Bulbamun’s Top Ten Simpsons Episodes!

So now that my new smart tv has Disney+ on it I’ve been watching a lot of Simpsons lately and started thinking about just what are my favorites, this is by no means a definitive list, I may change my mind immediately after posting this but I do tend to hover around the same era when I watch and I just thought about which ones I keep coming back to or otherwise stick with me

10. Round Springfield

So this one fucking makes me cry every time, I don’t watch it as much as I have most of the others on this list but watching Bleeding Gums Murphy die and leave Lisa so distraught always gets me, they do the crazy James Earl Jones cloud ending and it never fails to have me in tears by the end. Also Bart’s small character arc with Lisa believing he’s telling the truth when he wrecks his appendix leading into the end is a very nice touch (and is something that happens in reverse later on in the list).

9. Lemon of Troy

On the other end of things, Lemon of Troy just always makes me feel kind of good, it’s really funny, there’s so many subversion gags that work really well and it’s a neat little adventure story that changes the setting up a bit. Shelbyville is mentioned a lot in various episodes so it’s neat to just go there and see the people are just as weird and freaky as in Springfield despite Shelbyville always seeming to be the better option in most conversations. Also, lemon-shaped rocks.

8. Homer Badman

So this is here for a couple reasons, first of all the Candy Expo in the beginning is an amazing setpiece and I love all the gags they get out of all the crazy candy convention shenanigans. And then the episode just kind of pivots and we get a pretty dire take on media sensationalism that just gets more and more relevant every year. It’s a weirdly nuanced take too since none of the original parties are particularly at fault since they both don’t have the full story but they get swept up into a media whirlwind. (Though the more I think about it, Homer DID still technically grab the girl’s butt even if it wasn’t intended as sexual harrassment there’s still a case to be made that he did do it, but she seems fine to drop it after finding out about Gummi Venus De Milo so I guess it’s okay)

7. Lisa’s Substitute

This is the other episode that never fails to make me cry, like every time I watch this episode I end up having a huge headache from crying so much. This one admittedly relies a lot on its ending and isn’t quite as funny or touching throughout but what an ending, everything from the train scene and Lisa getting the note to how the family wraps up at home and Homer proves he can be a good parent in his own way while relating to all three of his kids on various levels, it’s just really great.

6. Homer the Heretic

So this one is on the list for its atmosphere (and it won’t be the last one) I really freaking love how it sells the lazy Sunday morning feel in the first half, how Homer crafts a fun day off for himself with all these silly little events and snacks and such (which is also how I spend my days off so it probably hit a little close to home). The religious commentary is pretty good too, Lisa the Skeptic was very close to making the list for how it handled respecting people’s faith even when you don’t share it but I kinda like how oddly inclusive this message is for a show that’s usually pretty Protestant-focused, it kind of gets to a message about the intention of faith being more important than the dogma, but also that something like church can still have value.

5. Bart on the Road

This one and the next one are more atmosphere pieces, admittedly the vaporwave meme may have influenced my opinion on this a bit but I find myself coming back to this episode a lot just for the breezy attitude it has about the whole road trip aesthetic and how well Bart organizes this thing on the fly even though none of them have any idea what they’re doing, plus Nelson and Martin are always good to drag along together (see Lemon of Troy) and Lisa’s subplot about connecting with Homer and that being the final test that connects it to the resolution of Bart’s plot I always thought was really cute.

4. Bart’s Comet

Like I said, this is another atmosphere pick. The parts of this one that always get me are the beginning when Bart’s getting up at 4am and everything’s so quiet and still and the day hasn’t really started yet, and then the quiet anxiety that hangs over the town as their waiting for the comet to come crashing down (which if I remember high school earth science it’s not a comet if it enters the atmosphere but whatever). It’s got some really funny jokes and a variety of townspeople to play off each other and a really sweet and poignant ending with Flanders but the early morning scenes and the apocalyptic dread are my favorites here.

3. Bart Sells his Soul

I guess I’m a sucker for the theological/philosophical episodes of classic Simpsons because I love this episode. Just like in an inverse of Round Springfield, this one wraps up with Lisa giving Bart something that solves his grief, and her point about Bart earning his soul through desperation and effort and prayer is really touching. The Moe stuff for the B-plot is really cute and I like the setting of turning Moe’s into a TGI Fridays type deal, plus the oddly heartbreaking scenes of Bart walking around feeling like something is missing, it’s all really good and wraps up in a surprisingly touching way.

2. One Fish, Two Fish, Blowfish, Blue Fish

I feel like nobody talks about this episode as much as they should. Like it’s an episode about Homer Simpson facing his mortality and how that cuts to the core of his relationships with literally everyone in his life. It strips him bare and makes him thoughtful and introspective in a way we don’t really get to see while we take a quick jaunt through all his connections he’s made with the people closest to him. The scene of Homer mustering up all his dignity and listening to The Bible on tape and waiting to die really kinda touches me, I remember first seeing it as a kid and wondering what was going to happen, I knew they couldn’t kill Homer but part of that moment really sold it in a way I wasn’t expecting and approached mortality in a way that few others that use this stock plot do.

1. 22 Short Films About Springfield

Okay, Steamed Hams, you know it, I know it, Steamed Hams is one of the funniest things The Simpsons has ever done, but the whole episode is pretty great. The fact that it doesn’t have a central plot means that it can basically just be a gag factory and get a ton of variety, sweeping around the whole town and just punching in joke after joke of varying types. And despite its name and structure, it doesn’t feel like they’re isolated vignettes, it does feel like they’re going places since the shorts are decently tied together with good visual segues and some plots that continue throughout like Lisa’s hair story. Aside from the Cletus story and maybe a couple others there aren’t any hard cuts that divide one of the stories from another and it’s just really funny. Seems kind of weird to put all the touching and memorable episodes on the list and then top it off with a nonsense collection of hilarious gags but here we are.

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 39 - Infestation

Sasha: Leave it, it's not - Jon: I got it!

Okay, but why the hell is Jon trying to rescue the tape recorder at this point? PRIORITIES, Jon! PRIORITIES (Also, unbeknownst to Jon, that damn tape recorder would probably have been fine and would've just tagged along with him regardless...)

Martin: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option.

This is actually really good thinking. (Also, since there wasn't exactly a quote I could put this under, let me note that Johnny Sims is very good at screaming in a way that makes it sound like he's genuinely in pain. I do love the acting on this podcast sometimes.)

Sasha: Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there – (...) Jon: I just… I don’t want to become a mystery. I refuse to become another goddamn mystery.

I'd forgotten they explain Jon's weird decision-making and just ... ouch. Suddenly it makes a sad amount of sense, actually.

Sasha: Jon, what did you mean by "real statements"? Jon: You know what I mean. The ones that have weird wrinkles, or that just seem to have something solid to them. They all have one thing in common. Sasha: They don’t record digitally. Jon: And we have to use the tape recorder. At this stage, if it records to my laptop I almost don’t bother.

Of course I had figured that out by this point in the show (it was all but stated explicitly several times before this episode) but this is the first confirmation we get that Jon realises this, too, and probably has for a while now. That did make me go "Huh!" on my first listen.

Martin: Tim. Tim’s outside. Sasha: Oh god, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see them. (...) Jon: It’s soundproofed. He can’t hear you! (...) Sasha: Ah, screw this! Jon: What, Sasha, NO!

I had so many shivers running up and down my spine here. I genuinely thought we were about to witness Tim and/or Sasha being devoured by worms. (Not that what happens to them is ultimately much better...) I don't really listen to a lot of audioplays (I used to listen to cassettes as a kid but that was decades ago) and I was really surprised by how vivid this scene got in my head given that it was based on nothing but voices and sound effects.

Tim: Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding sinister happenings in the downtown old –

Pfffft! Someone needs to pick their timing a bit better! If it hadn't been for Sasha this would literally have been Tim's final words.

Tim: Oh...

This little "Oh" as Tim turns and spots Jane Prentiss is so fucking expressive!

Martin: Well, so the worms didn’t know they were there! Look, I know it’s stupid. Jon: Yes. Yes it is. They’re just… they’re just unclassified parasites. They don’t have consciousness, they can’t plan, they’re just an unthinking infection. (...) Martin: Why do you do that? (...) Push the sceptic thing so hard!?

This bit of conversation, followed by Martin's rant, was actually quite cathartic for me because we repeatedly watch S1 Jon realising there's something weird going on and immediately doing a 180 turn to go "No, this is all nonsense" based on not much of anything, and it was starting to frustrate me too, it just didn't make sense. Having Martin just straight-up call him out on it was a "YES! EXACTLY!" moment. And then...

Jon: Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact Storage? That’s enough to convince anyone.

... just left me going what ... wait ... WHAT? and Jon's explanation...

Jon: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched. I… I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like… like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will… know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer.

Well, let's just say if I had been standing while listening to this episode, I would have been sitting down by the end of this. I was floored.

Jon: Why haven’t you quit? Martin: Are you giving me my review now?

I love how Martin's affronted tone implies that he genuinely believes it possible that Jon is choosing this moment, while they're maybe possibly about to die horrible deaths, to give him a performance review. I know Jon has been a dick, Martin, but not THAT much of a dick!

Martin: I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. Jon: Martin…You’re not, uh… You didn’t die here, did you? Martin: What? What? N-No… what?! Okay, this had me snorting. He just goes from "If I close my eyes, cover my ears and don't admit anything weird is going on, we'll all be fine" to straight-up asking his co-worker if he's a ghost in two seconds flat. I love it so much.

Martin: No, no… it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too.

Oh. my. fucking. God. "Whatever web these statements have caught you in..." You have got to be kidding me... THIS FUCKING PODCAST HAS BEEN THROWING BREADCRUMBS SINCE SEASON FUCKING 1???

Elias: So… these are the worms he and Martin have been going on about?

Oh, come the fuck on, Elias! There's playing dumb and then there's this. At least keep it believable, you work in the Archive, too! It's been Wormtown for weeks now!

Jon: You’re not bitten, are you? Tim: No, I don’t think so! Have a look! Jon: Yes, alright Tim, you look fine. Put them back on, please.

Okay, I have a 12-year-old's sense of humour but this makes me giggle so hard.

Sasha: God, I hate this place.

Oh god, the soundscaping in this section of the episode. It's at the point that Sasha says this line that the spooky music we usually get in statements comes on loudly enough to be really noticeable, but you can still hear the fire alarm going off very quietly in the background and it just makes it all sound so eerie and apocalyptic and final, which is really fitting for what is about to happen.

Sasha: Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself. [SCREAM] NotSasha: Hello? ... I see you! ... ... I see you.

Oh god, that last "I see you" right up close is so fucking creepy. I think I knew Sasha was dead on some level the moment we hear the "I see you". And when she "turns up again" I knew from the first second that it wasn't really her. (If I remember correctly, my partner wasn't entirely clear on that, which is funny, because unlike my partner who actually recognises voice actors, I have close-to-zero voice recognition and had a snowball's chance in hell of figuring out that the voice actor had changed. I just went off this scene and our previous encounter with the table and it all struck me as very obvious.)

Jon: None of us have been hit yet but… during one of the more alarming encounters, Martin ran off. Tim: He thought we were behind him, I think. Jon: He didn’t think at all.

STOP BEING AN ARSEHOLE, JON!

Jane Prentiss (very wormily): ARCHIVIST Jon: Shit. [Click]

I'm kind of amused by this, because Jon's "shit" is not a "SHIT!" or even a "Shit!" - it is very much a "Shit." So much more "I just spilled my tea over a statement" than "I'm face to face with a sentient pile of worms that wants to eat me and it just addressed me in person."

My impression of this episode

There's A LOT going on in this episode (as evidenced by the fact that this is by far my longest relisten post yet) and that pretty much sums up my impression when I first listened to it. "Oh, it's an audioplay now! Neat! ... Oh. ... Oooh ... Oh shit ... Oh wow, there was a lot going on here, I'm going to need a moment."

[puppyluver256]

Anonymous, I have to ask this with the utmost sincerity: what do you get out of this? Why are you wasting both of our time by harassing me? Moreso yours than mine because I can choose not to address you at all and just delete your asks, you on the other hand have to take however much time it took to write all of that and send it in. What’s the point? What’s your goal? Are you just doing it to get attention? Well, congrats, here’s your attention you so desperately sought.

You keep sending me anonymous asks about things I post on Twitter and don’t crosspost here. Why do you think that’s a good idea? I’m not going to post stuff that vaguely talks about Twitter stuff here without also providing the proper context, so it’s either a case of me going out of my way to go find the context so that people have all the information or take the easier option, which is to just delete the ask and go on with my day. It would make sense to send me an ask here if I bothered to crosspost, but I haven’t, so why are you trying to force me to? If you’ve got something to say about what I post on Twitter, wouldn’t it make more sense to address it, I dunno, on Twitter?? Why do you want everything spread out from its proper context? I mean, I know why you do this. It’s because if you respond to my Twitter stuff on Twitter, there are no options to hide, your identity is Right There. Question is, are you willing to admit that you’re a coward?

You deem me a “bully” because I shared a censored screenshot of something that I found somewhat ridiculous. This is a bad-faith interpretation of the events of that whole nonsense and you know it. I removed the username specifically to prevent people harassing that kid, and when I found out that creeps had gone out of their way to figure out who that kid was and harass them anyway I tried my best to make things right. I still don’t know if I was able to do so, and I know this is hard for you to believe because you think I’m a horrible person who relishes in tearing people down, but that still eats me up inside. And I thought you “couldn’t follow me” after that, so why are you still here? Either way, it’s real cute that you call me a bully when you constantly bring up me talking about my living situation in a taunting manner and poke and prod at me for daring to be openly vulnerable on my own social media, seemingly with no similar internal conflict on your end. That sounds like something an actual bully does rather than someone who made a mistake and desperately tried to correct it. You’d think if I were bullying someone I’d’ve kept going at it, but I haven’t talked to that kid since I apologized and told them I’d get out of their life.

You call me “racist” because I was having a little fun with homonyms. Okay, this is the one point that I will concede that yeah, it may have seemed that way, and while it wasn’t meant in malice it still wasn’t all that appropriate and interpretation is more important than intent there. It was “tacky” as you so eloquently put it. Which is why I deleted that tweet and replaced the offending part with an actually decent argument for my core point rather than just “haha, names are spelled the same, human language is funny :D”. Regardless of what the second half of that tweet said, my point about not needing to wait for the return of an apocalyptic “prophet” still stands. I prefer to live in reality, or at least I acknowledge when my fantasies are in fact fantasy. And that still doesn’t excuse the fact that you said I should get hit by a shoe for making linguistics jokes and not believing what an ancient book says. Who does that??? No, seriously, how is that so normalized irl that it has a term for it that isn’t just “assault”?

You claim I “faked anons”, that’s rich��coming from the person who likely sent them. Why would I send myself anon hate, especially anon hate I don’t even post? I tend to eventually turn anon back on for the nice anons who don’t deserve having their access to anonymous taken away because of your actions. (which, sorry nice anons, this creep ruined it for you again for a while :c ) Meanwhile you’re the one who’s actively block-evading, which I’m willing to put down to Tumblr’s anon blocking not being the most effective, but still you went out of your way to change your IP address to get around it. Did you use a VPN? Or did you actually bother dragging your ass to the library and getting on one of their public computers?

Look, you and I both know that we’re not going to get anything worthwhile out of this. You’re going to keep spending minutes on end writing vitriol that’s likely just going to go into the trash. How about instead you go outside for a bit? Just step out of your house for a few minutes. Count all the birds you see while you’re out there. Listen to the nature sounds. Appreciate the breeze on your face.

Just do anything positive. Because this can’t be healthy for you either.

[cherry-valentine]

Summer 2020 Anime Season

What I’m Watching:

Deca Dence is one of the better shows this season, probably the best one that started fresh this summer. It has a very strange setup that I won’t detail very much here to avoid spoilers. It’s strange in that it’s a fairly unique twist and in that they waited until episode two to actually drop that particular bomb (whereas most anime would definitely try to cram it into episode one). The bare bones premise of episode one is that there is a huge, mobile fortress that contains some of the last remnants of humanity as they try to survive in an apocalyptic world overrun by monsters of unknown origin that range in size from tiny insects to huge kaiju. A young girl named Natsume dreams of being one of the warriors who fight the monsters, but is instead given the lowly job of armor maintenence, where she meets the older, gruff Kaburagi whom she learns was once a famed warrior. Natsume’s relationship with Kaburagi sets off the actual plot, but the story takes several turns that I honestly didn’t see coming. The series is quite violent, with literally tons of monster blood flowing and plenty of human death, but it maintains an overall upbeat, adventurous feel, with some well-done humor and genuinely touching moments. The art is colorful and bright, with some truly impressive animation. It clearly has high production values. Natsume is a fun character (even if we’ve seen characters like her many times before). She’s your typical optimistic, never-give-up, spunky sort of girl but she works really well as a hero in this kind of story and is generally entertaining to watch. Kaburagi is also a fun character that we’ve seen the likes of before (the stern former soldier type with a heart of gold). Overall a great series and very high on my watch list.

Gibiate is an oddity. It’s a series that had the potential to be top tier. I mean this show could have been not only the best of the season, but possibly the best of the year. It has gorgeous character designs by Yoshitaka Amano. The voice acting is top notch. And the premise is awesome: In 1600, a samurai and a ninja are both suddenly transported to a modern, near future Japan that has been completely ravaged by a disease that turns humans into powerful, grotesque monsters. They fall in with a small group of survivors that have gathered around a couple of scientists and a doctor who are working on a cure. Sure, it’s not 100% original, but it’s an exciting premise that results in some great samurai and ninja action. The problem is, for all the show’s great ideas, the execution is totally flubbed. For starters, the animation budget is obviously quite a lot smaller than it needed to be. What should have been thrilling battles of katana and shuriken on monster violence end up just being sort of bland. Too many cut corners. The writing also suffers, with often nonsensical dialogue and character behaviors that are so illogical that they end up being unintentionally hilarious. A good example of this is how practically everyone in the group of survivors just takes the fact that these two guys are time travelers from the past totally in stride. Hardly anyone is surprised at all or even questions it. The show tries to dismiss the stupidity of this by having one character say, “Well we have these monsters running around so why not have people traveling here from the past?” Which is still dumb because he’s a doctor who has been studying the virus and knows how it works, scientifically. But he has no questions for the guys who show up out of nowhere claiming to be from 1600? Another example would be how the samurai and ninja react to modern technology. Basically, there’s very little reaction. They don’t even react to a freaking helicopter! They should be losing their minds over this stuff! Still though, despite the show’s many shortcomings, there remains a small nugget of greatness. I can almost imagine how fantastic this show would have been with decent production values. And because I can see that potential, I’m still watching and I’m actually enjoying it very much. The characters, poorly written as they are, somehow remain interesting. The visuals, despite being sabotaged by clunky animation, are still appealing. I know it’s strange to watch and enjoy a series because of what it COULD have been, rather than what it IS, but here we are. Surprisingly high on my watch list.

Koi to Producer is an otome series with very pretty art and a supernatural plot. It’s based on a Chinese phone game that I’ve never played but sounds a lot like Mystic Messenger in how the game is played. It follows a young woman trying to produce a television show about various rumors, urban legends, etc. who gets mixed up in the world of Evolvers (humans who have developed special powers). Of course four of these Evolvers are handsome single men who are very successful and clearly attracted to her. She also ends up becoming a target of Black Swan, a shady group studying Evolvers. The show is somewhat plot-heavy, in that it tends to focus a bit more on the overarching story than on the romance. This is fine by me. The men are handsome, but two of them look a little too similar to each other, making it hard to tell them apart when they’re both in the same scene. It’s nice that the heroine is an adult and a big part of the story is about her career, but other than that she’s a bit bland and could be switched out for any other bland otome heroine and no one would notice. So far the series has hinted at an interesting back story for her so I’ll just have to hope it follows through on that. I’m enjoying the show because it’s pleasant to look at and not boring, but it’s the lowest title on my watch list.

Appare Ranman is my overall favorite of the season, which is ironic because it actually began last season. It was put on hiatus due to the pandemic and resumed this season. If you remember the old cartoon Wacky Races, this is basically the anime version of that. It focuses largely on two Japanese men who end up stuck in California after some crazy hijinks: Appare, an aloof and eccentric mechanical genius, and Kosame, a straight-laced but genuinely kind samurai who had been given the thankless job of keeping Appare in line. Broke and lost in an unfamiliar land, the two of them decide to enter a cross-country race and use the prize money to get back to Japan. Along the way they meet a whole cast of wild, crazy, and fun characters (including my favorite, the lovely, badass, and determined Jing Xialian, the only woman in the race, who had to fight against sexism and discrimination just to get the opportunity to drive in the race). The series has a very fun vibe, but has enough serious moments to keep it from being a straight up comedy (the aforementioned discrimination felt very realistic, and at least two characters are still suffering emotional trauma from losing family members to violence when they were children). One of my favorite aspects is Appare himself. He pays absolutely no mind to social norms and doesn’t care in the slightest what anyone thinks of him. This resulted in his family back in Japan being ashamed of him and everyone else viewing him as a weirdo. But Appare doesn’t mind any of that, and happily pursues his dreams. An interesting scene early on is when Jing is grappling with the fact that she’ll never be accepted as a racer because she’s a woman. She’s clearly in emotional turmoil. Kosame, who is the kinder, more compassionate of the two leads, can’t really help her. He can sympathize with her plight, but his own rigid regard for social norms prevents him from telling Jing to just go ahead and be a racer, society and their expectations be damned. It’s Appare, the guy who seemingly has very little regard for, or interest in, other people, who encourages Jing to follow her dreams. To Appare, there’s absolutely no reason why Jing can’t be a racer. The fact that society refuses to accept her means nothing. Jing has the skill to be a racer. She should be a racer. The scene did a lot to endear Appare to me. Aside from great characters (and there are so many that I can’t possibly mention them all here), the animation and design work are amazing. The characters as well as the vehicles look fantastic. The music is also great, with my favorite opening and ending themes of the season. If you want totally fun and wild romp, you can���t go wrong with this series.

Carry Over Shows From Previous Seasons: Black Clover Ahiru no Sora Major 2nd Season 2

Best of Season: Best New Show: Appare Ranman Best Opening Theme: Appare Ranman Best Ending Theme: Appare Ranman Best New Male Character: Appare (Appare Ranman) Best New Female Character: Jing Xialian (Appare Ranman)

[doshmanziari]

2019 Mega Drive Explorations [2]

A continuation of part 1. Click the link below the first entry to read more.

Alisia Dragoon (1992)

If there’s one strong commonality between my experiences of playing nearly all of these games, it’s that I really could do without most of the bosses (and fuck boss rushes). Less than two weeks since, I still have a bad taste in my mouth from how meanly Alisia Dragoon ratchets up its difficulty in its later levels, with enemy placement that, on an initial playthrough, half the time expects a supernatural level of anticipation, and a squad of bosses who just go on and on, requiring an absurd level of precision. I hate it! It’s a shame, because Alisia Dragoon has so much to (hesitantly) recommend it, maybe most of all its graphical splendors -- even the bejeweled HUD is fun to look at -- and topographically exciting level designs; the penultimate stage is alone memorable for being slanted at forty-five degree angles. Alisia herself is accompanied by four familiars who can be leveled up and have separate uses. It’s cute. Everybody wants to hang out with a dog-sized dragon. A minor detail I loved was venturing into seemingly empty nooks and crannies and finding that items did indeed reside there, waiting to manifest. I’d say that this is a Mega Drive title which anyone looking to explore the console’s library should give some time to, but I also understand if the same people give up on it. There’s no good reason to endure the last stage’s nightmares.

Cadash (1992)

Although it’s missing some stuff that’s present in the earlier arcade and TurboGrafx-16 releases -- notably the the priest and ninja classes -- Cadash on the Genesis remains the delightful, finely sized dungeon crawler it ever was. The game has a predictable structure of progression where you move from village to dungeon, find a key, access the next village, and so on. The most recognizable point of comparison might be The Adventure of Link. There are enough twists and bits of humor to make the game pop where it needs to, whether it’s shrinking in size to access the interiors of dwarf village, speaking to a dog who is lamenting their dead owner, or a bestiary that includes potbelly dragons and waddling heads made of rock. Happily, the music is no exception to Taito’s trend of having strange soundtracks for its 80s and 90s releases (Toshiko Tasaki is listed as the composer, but that’s in the capacity as an arranger for the Genesis version; the original composer remains uncredited), and it plays a big part in making the atmosphere feel a little more off-kilter than screenshots may suggest. Unlike the arcade version, the Genesis release has no timer -- an exclusion I don’t mind when it’s the sort of game where I just wanna bop around and level up. My dream is that this is re-released on the TurboGrafx-16 mini with online co-op functionality.

Mystic Defender (1989)

The truth is that all videogame development is “troubled.” Sometimes it’s just more obvious within the product itself, and I think that may be the case with Mystic Defender, which comes across as a game that was half-finished and suddenly needed to be stretched out to meet a quota for playtime and avoid going over budget. The first two stages, a forest and shrine with slight Japanese influences, look fine and excellent (respectively); the third goes the Giger-esque route, and while the tiles don’t quite fit together, and it’s a curious progression after stage one and two had a sort of continuity, the trope always has some gross-out appeal. Everything after this is either asset recycling or so vaguely themed that it’s impossible to care about what you’re seeing or know where you are. Any of ‘em could be the finale. The actual final stage gave me flashbacks of Tiertex’s Strider II, whose last stages have you walking around big boring mazes of flat long paths and hoping that the direction you’re going is the right one. Overall, promising and disappointing. Everyone reading this should, at minimum, check out the epilogue for the most hilariously formal congratulatory text I’ve ever seen in a videogame.

Mazin Saga: Mutant Fighter (1993)

Geez. If any Mega Drive title exemplifies boss-related bullshit, it’s Mazin Saga: Mutant Fighter. Adding onto the frustration is that there is a potentially stand-out beat ‘em up here. I think what will first strike most people is how good this game looks. There’s a fluidity to sprites’ animations that has to be seen to believed, palettes are used expertly for ambient effect, and the backgrounds usually make an effort to catch your attention, subtly or dramatically. Your person (or... suit of armor?), Mazinger Z, has a handful of attacks that are satisfying to use, like a flurry of sword strikes if you mash a button, or an aerial attack that’s done in tandem with horizontal jumps; and if the total type of opponents is limited, they’re at least behaviorally distinguished. What singlehandedly makes Mazin Sager miserable are its bosses, whether you’re preemptively contending with them as a human-sized figure (sometimes in sections where a single screw-up can cost you a life) or taking them head-on as a giant version of yourself. The latter are presented as a fighting game, and, early on, are easy and formally ambitious enough for you to forgive their clumsiness and mechanical simplicity; after all, not many beat ‘em ups switch their genre for bosses. Around stage three is likely where you will start to see the A.I. input-read and generally fuck you up. As a giant, you have a couple of moves that do damage greater than the other four or so, but the windup and spacing they require (not to mention complicity on the A.I.’s part) make them impractical, meaning that you are basically forced to do as much damage per hit as you can see in the second screenshot. Meanwhile, bosses deal way more damage, can do nonsense like interrupt your aerial attacks with lows, execute screen-wide dashes that have no frame disadvantage, and culminate in a boss rush which ends with a devil who gave me significant trouble even with the help of save states. Never again.

Two Crude Dudes (1992)

I was glad to have my baseless assumption about this being a one-note Meme Game be, well, baseless. Turns out, Two Crude Dudes is one of the better beat ‘em ups I’ve played. There are very few cheap shots, stages are brief and don’t wear out their welcome, you’re given a pretty fair amount of time to respond to oncoming opponents, and only a couple of bosses left me scratching my head about how to avoid taking damage. Also you can throw like EVERYTHING and it’s so fun. There was a stage two encounter where I was like, what the heck, when does this end, and then I realized that you could, and needed to, throw an aircraft that kept reappearing, and it was then that I knew that this was a good game. A similar epiphany happened much later on when I discovered that tanks are throwable if you mash the button. The soundtrack is kind of forgettable percussive- and bass-heavy funk-rock, but energizing in-game, and sometimes has a strong instrumental resemblance to the Genesis games that utilized Hitoshi Sakimoto’s Terpsichorean driver. A general criticism is that this is a pretty plain looking beat ‘em up, and the post-apocalyptic setting seems to have restrained rather than facilitated creativity.

[aliceslantern]

Beyond this Existence, chapter 16

Summary:  After Xehanort's death, Demyx finds himself unexpectedly human in Radiant Garden. With nothing but fragments of his past and a cryptic statement from Xemnas, he's left to figure out who he is. When Ienzo asks for his help with a project, the two find common ground, but the trauma and secrets in both of their pasts could tear it apart. Zemyx (Demyx/Ienzo), post-KH3 canon compliant

Read it on FF.net/ on AO3

----

Excerpt of an audio recording from device 5.875.32.852 (admin is registered as EVEN [surname REDACTED]. Transcription programs recognize the speaking voice of the admin as well as one other distinct voice. Transcription errors due to colloquialisms, slang, accent, muffled speech, etc. are acknowledged and will be used in further evolutions of this program.

Recording commences at 16:03.

--I hope you do not mind that I am recording this. I assure you any we can redact any exceedingly personal information. This is for my edification only. I would never dream of letting it fall into unsavory hands.

--Uh. Sure.

--Can you state your name and age in its entirety?

--Yeah. I’m [birth name and surname REDACTED]. I still go by Demyx. I’m twenty-two.

--That’s your name? That’s not what I thought.

--Yeah, well. It seems like I’m full of surprises. I don’t care who knows it, but it doesn’t seem to fit right anymore. You know?

--I suppose. So. Can you tell me what you remember, as far back as you can, as comfortably as you can?

--I’ll try.

----

These memories don’t feel like mine.

It’s weird. I guess it’s more like I’m reading a book, or watching a movie.

“It” started, if by it you mean all this Keyblade crap, when I was five. I was my parents’ only kid. We were broke. Like, squatting and going to soup kitchens broke. There were the early days, when the Foretellers--the five chosen ones or whatever--were just building their unions and preaching about their ideas in the plaza. I’m honestly not sure if they were the first wielders, but they were definitely the ones that made it a thing, That promised this as the way to seek the light.

Heartless started coming--from the future, or so they said in the square. We needed a way to defend ourselves. So they started testing people for worthiness. Kids were always easier. Less corrupt. More full of light.

More manipulable.

They said they would take the kids from more troubled circumstances, and give them what they needed to survive. In my parents’ eyes, food and a place to live. The luckier ones could stay at home. So that caused a big influx of poor people sending their kids in to be tested and trained. While some of the better off ones saw it as a sign of honor, everyone else wanted to keep their kids safe. Even the ones with Keyblades were dying.

My parents figured Heartless were better than me starving to death. So they sent me, by myself, for the test.

The older ones could pick their unions, but the real little ones like me they chose a more “organic” approach. They take you inside, and there the Foretellers are with a little table of five toys. Apparently picking one shows some intrinsic quality they’re looking for, or whatever. I got chosen to be in Ursus. And just like that, my mom and dad hugged me goodbye and left me there.

It was hard. Physically, mentally. I missed my parents. The training was grueling, and it hurt. But whenever I would cry or get upset either Master Aced or one of the older kids would tell me to be quiet. Because I was lucky. And I had a chance to be something.

But you see, Even, it doesn’t matter how lucky I was. I was still getting razzed by Heartless, getting thrown in and out of time to these worlds, getting reprimanded for bunging off quests or not getting enough lux. I got kicked out of a few parties for that. Making friends wasn’t so easy when I got a reputation for being a crybaby and a coward, even though I was six or seven.

I still tried to see my parents when I got a chance. They moved around a lot. Dad tried to get steady work a few times, but I think he had some kind of mental illness or something, and he could never be on time, or do what he was told, or get out of bed, so they lost their apartments a lot. Mom was a street musician, and she took in students sometimes, but it wasn’t enough money.

She taught me, too.

Compared to Keyblade stuff, music was so easy. I was so good at it. Knowing I wasn’t terrible at everything gave me strength to go on. I had a way to take all the bad feelings, all the nightmares, and make something beautiful out of it.

I tried to quit the union.

You wouldn’t believe the telling off Master Aced gave me. “Why was I ashamed of my heritage”. “Why wasn’t I doing my part.” “What did I think I would become otherwise, I came from the gutter.” It was devastating. Without the Keyblade, they said, I was worthless. I didn’t want to believe that was true.

As the years passed, and this all kept happening, I tried to study music on the side. That’s when I started keeping the diary. I wrote these weird avant-garde compositions, but that wasn’t enough to salve the pain. So I wrote how I felt, and if anybody found it, I’d just say it was nonsense. But nobody did, though. During that time the tensions between the unions started to grow, mostly over who was getting the most light. Kids were fighting in the streets. Killing each other’s Chirithys--that’s how I lost mine. Even the most legendary parties fell apart. People were still dying.

One of these days, when I was almost seventeen, I was going back to the dorms after another quest. Master Ava--Vulpes’s leader--stopped me. She said she’d heard about me, and I braced myself for another lecture like the ones Aced liked to give. But it was my focus on the bigger picture of my life she liked, she said. She wanted me to join a special union she was building.

The Dandelions.

The reason she built this union was because she feared there would soon be war between the others, and that war would escalate to apocalyptic proportions. Remember, we’d all been training for years at that point, we all had way overpowered magic--even me. But because we had no foresight as to anything other than collecting lux, nobody could see the consequences of fighting.

She was going to take this special union, and she was going to teach us how to escape this world altogether, just to make sure somebody survived.

I know you’re probably dying to know how we did it, but I honestly can’t remember. It was some kind of spell, for sure. I know that each of us cast it, and we were all supposed to go together. But it’s one of those things too slippery and powerful to hold onto for long. Not to mention, this travel was supposed to wipe our memories of the trauma and give us a fresh start. So she said.

The war started earlier than expected. The only reason I went to the battle was to find the other Dandelions so we could leave. But I’m not sure if I missed a memo or something. They were gone. Then again, there were so many bodies that had been just so completely fucking destroyed that they could have been some of these people.

…

…

…

[Audio muffled or indiscernible; external knowledge of social cues suggests emotional distress.]

People were just fucking killing each other. They… they tried to kill me, too. I remember Keyblades hitting my armor and I panicked. And I guess instinctively I cast the spell and got out. Got somewhere, or I guess some when is the better word. I ended up in the same place, just later, surrounded by all these rusting Keyblades, my memories completely cleaved and running through my fingers like sand. I remember that, feeling it all drain away like a dream.

That’s when Xemnas found me. When things started to hurt. The shock and the armor made it hard to tell, but someone had stabbed me clean through the chest.

He was nice to me, too. He said he’d been waiting for me and that I was going to be okay. He could give me purpose. My wounds would heal.

I died, and Demyx was born. Memory-free.

You know the rest.

End recording, duration--25:17.

----

“Goodness gracious. ” Like a child listening to their favorite story, he’d been leaning forward attentively. He’d even started recording it on his gummiphone, which Demyx initially felt was a violation of his privacy. But considering how close-lipped Vexen had always been about his experiments, he knew, if anything, his words would be safe in Even’s hands. “This is a window into our history.”

“Yours, maybe.”

“You simply must tell me more about these Foretellers. How is this organization structured? What was their training regimen like? Who was their leader--did they have a leader?”

“It's a lot to talk about." His throat was dry from talking for so long.

Even exhaled. He paused the recording. “I suppose you’re right. Of course you must be very tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I would say so.”

A beat of silence.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” Even said. “I realize… it is not easy. Especially given our past relationship.”

“Like you said. Forgiveness.”

He nodded once, curtly. “Would you like something to help you sleep?”

“I think I’ll be okay. But thanks.”

“Well. Don’t get too used to it.”

Demyx looked at him. He didn’t know how else to be kind, Demyx realized. It must take immense effort. “Wake me up if anything changes with Ienzo,” he said. “Please.”

“You can be sure of it.”

----

The next several days, he felt utterly hollow. Demyx slept a lot. This was a sort of mental exhaustion. He was afraid to stray too far away from Ienzo’s side, but his condition remained unchanged. Guilt clung to him. He wasn’t really sure what to do with himself. He cleaned his room, which took all of ten minutes considering his lack of possessions. Did laundry. Found a couple books to read which weren’t half bad. It was a toxic combination of boredom and stagnation. At the end of the first week of this, Dilan asked him to come play cards.

“I figure you could use a bit of a diversion,” he said. He offered a smile.

“I guess I’m being pretty pathetic, huh,” Demyx said. He forced a laugh.

“Given the circumstances? No. But wallowing must be horrifically boring.”

Dilan’s quarters were even smaller than Even’s. He and Aeleus shared a sitting room and kitchenette. A faint smell of garlic lingered in the room, along with something like eucalyptus. He had a small herb garden, each one meticulously cared for. Near this was a pile of puzzle boxes.

Dilan took out a pack of cards. Demyx sat gingerly on the couch. It was less stern than the other furniture, a bit more comfortable, a soft velor that felt good to touch. He was becoming increasingly reliant on the tactile to stay grounded. He didn’t know if this was one of his myriad issues, or an effect of being overwhelmed.

Dilan crossed to a small glass cabinet. “Would you like a drink?”

“God. Yes.”

He poured them each a few fingers of whiskey into small crystal glasses. It burned when Demyx sipped it, but he liked it. “What shall we play? It’s a shame we’ve no third. I’d rather have liked to play Blackjack.”

“It’s not like I have anything to bet.”

“Too, too true.”

They settled on Hearts. Demyx didn’t know what to say to Dilan. After winning the first game, Dilan got them another drink.

“I’m not sure how I feel about your newfound reticence,” Dilan said. “It’s so odd, to see how humanity has changed you youth.”

“How so?”

“You were hardly ever so reserved. Ienzo was never so friendly. You should have heard him, chattering away to Sora. ...I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t bother me. To hear his name. Either of them, I mean.” He felt only a shadow of the ping of anxiety he got when thinking about Sora. Of course, knowing what he knew now, it made sense that Sora’d had to strike him down. Psychically, there were bigger fish to fry.

“You’ve got a focus to you. An intensity. It’s like you’re more present.”

“I don’t feel very present.”

“Well. We’ve all received some shocks recently.”

The alcohol was making him warm and a little dizzy. Demyx wasn’t sure whether or not he liked the sensation. He slipped off his shoes and pulled his feet up under him. “Why did you become an apprentice?”

Dilan thought for a moment, shuffled his cards, and then drank down the remainder of his whiskey in one swallow. “Why indeed,” he muttered. “I was only a boy at the time, a bit younger than yourself. I needed something to do with my life. I’d always liked creating things. Building things. Ansem had passed some initiatives to make Radiant Garden a haven for the sciences. I applied to study engineering under him, and was accepted.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He chuckled. “Why did you choose to become a Keyblade wielder?”

“I didn’t,” Demyx said. “It chose me. I was poor. Being a wielder was pretty much the only way to survive.”

“I abhor such economies,” Dilan said sourly. “I cannot understand how some leaders will let their charges suffer for basic human rights.”

“I can’t really have a realized perspective of it. I was still a kid when I left.”

“What will you do now?”

“What will I… do?” Demyx repeated numbly. “Frankly, I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

“You and I both.”

He continued to pet the velor. He was feeling dizzier still, and heavy. “I want to be with Ienzo,” he said. “And I want to make friends. Real ones. But I don’t know where I’d fit.”

“What’s that old adage? “Be yourself?””

“Hasn’t exactly worked in the past.”

“It is a theory of mine that becoming a Nobody worsens one’s flaws and insecurities.” Dilan poured them another drink. “Our personalities devolved and repelled. Fed by darkness. Take your time. Be honest. That’s all.”

Demyx picked up the crystal cup and swirled the amber liquid around a little. “I guess.”

“What about that guitar of yours?”

“Sitar?”

“Yes. That.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’ll find out.”

---

The next day, it sleeted. The echo of the splotches of snow piling up outside was audible within the confines of the castle. Demyx went to the library, armed with a cup of coffee. He lit a fire in the hearth. Once it was large enough to tend to itself, he sat down cross legged in front of it.

For some reason he was nervous. This was akin to stage fright. He’d much rather be worthy of Arpeggio than the stupid Keyblade.

Demyx held out his hands and pulled from within. The Keyblade appeared. He sighed. “I don’t want you,” he muttered. Let it disappear. He remembered the way the sitar had felt, the perfect weight of it, the smooth varnished wood.

Keyblade again. Demyx had to resist the urge to just toss the damn thing. He stared down at it. Traced the smooth shaft, twisted the links of the chain.

“Please,” he said to it. “I don’t want to fight. I just want--”

Not to be an idiot talking to an inanimate object?

Vanishing. Reappearing. It didn’t matter how long he thought about his Nobody memories, of all the music he’d ever made with Arpeggio. Of the fights or occasionally lack thereof.

“Are you mad at me?” Demyx asked out loud. “I didn’t ask for this to all happen.”

Hadn’t he?

Oh, we do too have hearts. Don’t be mad.

“Shut up,” he hissed at himself.

The fire popped as a log settled, startling him.

“Is it because I’m not him anymore?” he continued. “I’m still the sa-- no. I’m not.”

Demyx lay back on the plush carpet.

Remembering death was not easy. Doubly hard now that he knew it wasn’t the first time he’d been slain with Keyblades. Some of them were sharp, most blunt. You’d crush your ribs before you drew blood. Which was what happened. He rested his palm on the spot were the scars were.

Sora, Donald, Goofy. So much rage. Realization that this was a murder-suicide. He was able to pin Sora twice before the pain was too much. Before fading. Before waking up. Before Braig, with a soft smile, and a boy with silver hair, and a hot stab to the chest. What would have happened, really, if he hadn’t been turned into a vessel? What would he have done? Run away? Spent his life friendless, unloved and alone?

Without Ienzo?

He needed connections. Without them he could never hope to be whole--at least, figuratively. He had to do better. To be better. But how? Fancy displays of heroism were functionally worthless if there was no real intent behind them.

Demyx stood. Despite it all, he sort of had an idea.

----

The winter coat he had was warm enough, but it was not quite waterproof, and by the time he’d waded through the slop he was damp and chilly. When he reached the door of the committee’s headquarters, though, a knot of anxiety overrode his physical discomfort. Demyx stood for several moments at the door as wet snow piled on his hat, unsure of what to say. Several times he reached up to knock and withdrew his hand. He had barely placed his palm on the doorknob before it opened of its own accord.

“‘Could’ve finished War and Peace in the time it took you to make up your mind,” a middle-aged blond man said gruffly. “Come on in, kid.” He was smoking a cigarette, and its smell mixed with the ambient woodsmoke. “Don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Cid.” He offered his hand. “Saw you unconscious, but I don’t think you remember that.”

“Not--exactly--” Demyx shook his hand.

“Let me take your jacket before you get snow everywhere.” He took the wet garments and hung them on a coat rack.

“It’s warm in here,” Demyx said, half in wonder. He was so used to the drafty castle that he’d forgotten what adequate heating felt like.

Cid raised an eyebrow. “‘Course it is.”

“It’s, um, the castle. Heating’s not very good.”

“I imagine it wouldn’t be.”

A beat passed. Demyx felt his anxiety rising and floundered for things to say.

“I’m guessing you’re here for Aerith?” Cid asked. He stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray.

“Well. Sort of. I want to help.”

“With what,” he said blankly.

“Anything. I mean I--” Demyx could feel himself turning red.

“In the middle of winter?”

He bit his lip and looked down.

Cid chuckled. “I’m messing with you, kid. We’re always happy to have an extra pair of hands. Any of ya’ll got a sense of humor over there?”

“Let’s just say it’s been a tough week,” Demyx said.

“I’ll say. Weather’s been driving us mad. I finally kicked out Yuffie and Leon to get some peace and quiet.”

“...Er. Sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure one or both of them will be back soon. They know a bit more about the operations stuff than I do. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Demyx perched in one of the folding chairs. Cid sat back down at a computer and began absently writing code. He wondered if he should say something. Anything. Ask questions. He kept his hands knotted in his lap.

A door he hadn’t noticed previously opened, and out came Aerith, drying her hands on a towel. “Demyx? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Fine--well, enough. I’m here to help.”

She crossed over a plant on the table and cut off a few of its leaves. “Can’t do a whole lot in the winter other than plan, unfortunately.”

“What are you doing with those?”

“Making medicine.” She nodded her head towards the other room. “Want to see?”

He followed her. It was a small, narrow room, with a cot up against one wall. The other wall was lined with cabinets and some counter space. A few different types of dried leaves and blooms were stuffed in the myriad little drawers. She took the leaves, scattered them into mortar. To Demyx, the mix looked like a salad more than a medicine. She crushed it down, whispered a spell, and then with an odd little device began packing it into capsules. “Pectin,” she explained. “Goes down easier than the raw leaves. And doesn’t get stuck in your throat.”  She held up the tiny pill so he could see.

“What does it do?” Demyx asked.

“Cold cure,” she said simply. “We need lots of it this time of year. And colds always change. I’m forever tweaking it.”

A memory he hadn’t fully process washed in. He’d never been the best fighter in any of his parties, often left to provide background support. The spells then he’d used had been barbaric in comparison, but at least it kept people alive.

“When did you learn how to do all this stuff?” he asked. He was feeling odd.

“Oh, ever since I was a kid,” she said. “My mom and grandma before me were healers. They sorta taught me what I know now. And I’m also teaching myself.”

“Do you think it’s possible for someone else to learn?”

She crushed more herbs. “I’m sure it is. It’s magic like anything else.”

“What about--say--me?”

Aerith turned slightly. She appraised him.

“I’ve been wanting to help people and I don’t know how. You saved me. You saved Ienzo. I can’t do science, and I’m not a good fighter. But I have a good memory.” He considered the irony of that statement. But he’d always been good at memorizing.

“It’s a long road. This isn’t something you can do halfway. People’s lives could be at stake. But you know that.” She smiled a little. Tapped her forehead. “You’ve been through a lot in your life. Seen a lot of suffering.”

“Haven’t we all,” he said dryly.

“That’s… right.” She dusted off her hands. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, or believe you can do it. But you’ve gotta have a certain kind of tenacity. An ingenuity. Tell you what. Why don’t you read some base healing theory? There’s no way Ansem doesn’t have books about it. If that doesn’t send you running for the hills, we can talk.” She winked.

Demyx nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Good luck.”

He stood.

“Was that the answer you needed?” she asked.

“I think it was.”

----

A week or so passed. He tried to do what Aerith said, and study. But Demyx had never been the most studious, and almost everything he learned sans the very basics he’d learned in the field. He spent these minutes and hours alternating between the text and the dictionary. Why were academics such bad writers?

Sometimes he studied near Ienzo, sometimes he didn’t. Ienzo slept and slept and slept. Demyx could feel the utter lack of presence like a missing tooth. Honestly, being around him and not being able to talk to him was nearly painful.

During one of these marathon reading sessions, Even came in to check Ienzo’s vitals, as he did several times each day. “EKG activity is still fairly limited. But improving. He must be dreaming.”

“About what?” Demyx asked.

“I’ve no idea. ...What is that?” He reached town and felt at Demyx’s temperature. “Are you quite alright?”

Demyx sighed, marked his place in the book, and shut it. “I’m studying. Sue me.”

“But why?”

He drummed his fingers on the desk. “You’re just going to make fun of me.”

“I will… not,” Even said with great restraint.

Demyx raised an eyebrow.

“I must admit I am still getting used to the new you. Tell me. I will withhold judgement.”

“I’m thinking of learning to heal. Like. The magic.” He braced himself.

Even didn’t laugh. “Really? Why is that?”

“I want to help people. And this seems like something I can actually do.” He sighed. “I hate feeling helpless. If I can help someone not feel that way, it’d be nice. You know.”

“I admit I never put much stock in such magic initially. But seeing how that woman has cared for the two of you, I’m starting to change my mind.”

“Do you think I can do it?”

Even considered this. “You had a fairly potent magical ability in the Organization. I don’t see why not.”

“You don’t think I’m too stupid?”

He scowled. “I find it stupid that you hold my opinion in such high esteem.” Then, softening. “As you said. You’re not a scientist. But that really has little to do with practical intelligence.” He picked up the tome. “I’d be glad to help you, should you so want it. These aren’t exactly light reading. It’d be convenient to have another pair of hands.” He picked up another bag of saline. “Well. If you’re so interested, I might as well teach you how to do this much.” He showed Demyx how to change the IV and how to take base vitals. “I’m hoping we won’t need to do this for too much longer. But that’s all up to him.” Even patted Ienzo’s head.

“I miss him.” He felt tears in his eyes.

“As do I,” Even said softly. “Come. Are you hungry?”

---

The more Demyx studied, the more his memories became clearer. In those first shocked days, it had been hard to focus on any memory for very long. Now, not so much.

He’d been a healer then, but not a very good one. He’d still been a coward. More than once someone had gotten egregiously hurt because he hadn’t been willing to step up. He’d been kicked out of multiple parties that way.

He didn’t want to be a coward. It was time to be mature; a grown up. Deal with grown up things in a grown up way. Don’t run. Face it. The hurt will be over that much faster.

For the first time, he tried to summon the Keyblade because he wanted to. But that wasn’t what happened. Instead of cool metal, there was warm, varnished wood. Familiar. Well-worn. He held the sitar tenderly. Cried a bit out of relief.

He was still, despite it all, himself.

[ajora]

FF5 fic stuff again as I wait to hear back from people

All titles are just ideas at this point and will definitely change as I go along. So the breakdown is:

World 1: It’s complicated - Start of the romantic part of Faris/Lenna’s relationship really early on. Lenna is so thrilled and thankful that Faris isn’t actually a guy after all because she’s not into men. As the game proceeds, Faris scales back the flirting because something keeps nagging in the back of her head that maybe this isn’t a good idea until finally she cools things down entirely. Lenna confronts her about her pendant in that scene in Tycoon Castle and, yeah, now she gets why Faris took a lot of steps back. This all happens before they find their father and he dies like 5 minutes later. By the time it’s off to Galuf’s world, they’re still close and still a united front. 

World 2: The escape - New world with no idea how they’ll ever go back home. Long talks around campfires about how to process this thing between them, culminating in Galuf and Butz getting fed up and pushing them to resolve this nonsense. Possible Macross scene rip-off homage in Surgate post-ExDeath burning the ancient forest + first appearance of their alter-egos, Falil and Lotte. Galuf dies and the gang adopts Krile. Faris now gets two self-sacrificing princesses to take care of. Castle ExDeath is horrifying to everyone as it was built out of the bodies of people, holy shit. No wonder Galuf’s world is a post-apocalyptic wasteland. ExDeath merges the worlds together.

The Merged World: The stage - Faris gets her first taste of being royalty and wants out immediately. She and Lenna decide on continuing their relationship, with caveats: Faris has experience with living a lie and Lenna has to follow her example if they’re to do this, and Lenna must stay behind in Tycoon for her own protection. Not that this lasts long--Lenna gets possessed by Melusine once ExDeath unseals all those thousand-years-old monsters and Faris goes a bit more grey. Faris’ protectiveness towards Lenna turns into a full-fledged complex at this point. ExDeath is eventually defeated and here’s where I’m undecided:

The game has a number of endings based on who survives. If they all survive, Krile is the epilogue narrator and says that Faris and Lenna rule Tycoon side by side, but Faris hares off every now and then to check up on her crew.

If Lenna dies, Faris takes over rule of Tycoon as Sarisa and is probably going to be driven up the wall by all those rules. 

You know what? I forget what happens when Faris dies. She’s usually my mixer and as such has all those protections on her. So, assuming she dies, Lenna will probably be heartbroken and depressed. 

I mean, either path I choose, the game revives the dead character a year later anyway (the Dawn Warriors disapprove of the kids getting cheated out of their happily-ever-after). I’m kinda tempted to go with Faris dying for a year in the attempt to protect Lenna in the final battle, just so Lenna can experience the same thing Faris does every time Lenna gets self-sacrificial. 

3 years after the epilogue: The winds of change - Krile brings dragons back to Tycoon. The dragons end up with Mist and Anemone’s discarded names (Mist was supposed to be Cloudburst originally, Anemone was Silverstorm, and I still need to write Anemone sometime). With the two halves of the worlds uniting, there’s a hell of a lot of uncertainty with who can claim which territories. Geopolitical snafus abound and no one is happy with two Light Warriors in Tycoon, and for Lenna there’s just no winning because as gentle a soul as she is, she’s always going to have people questioning and overthinking her motives. Surgate becomes ground 0 for an experiment in democracy because Zezae is dead and left no heirs. Karnak falls and Faris goes to rescue the queen because that’s just a thing she does now. Faris being in Karnak during the revolution gives her the idea of an out for her and Lenna: if Lenna wasn’t queen, maybe they can be together after all. Krile embraces the Surgate experiment because she’s 18 at this point and steps down from ruling Bal. Lenna has to wrestle with the question of following suit--she is a good ruler, but what happens when she’s gone? 

5 years after: Tycoon undergoes transition to a Japanese-style constitutional monarchy, which doesn’t entirely free Lenna from her responsibilities, but does let her slip out a little more often with Faris. Basically this is so Falil and Lotte can ride again and be completely insufferable the way two people in love usually are. Krile, in her new career of digging through old Lonkan ruins, accidentally unearths yet another ancient evil and, in the original fic, this was a set-up for a segue into Legend of the Crystals. However, as I am of the opinion now that LotC shouldn’t be considered canon, this is a lot more open-ended and I’m thinking maybe just integrating an old dream into this. 

No wonder I never finish anything. I just want my girls to be happy okay?

[shirtlesssammy]

13x20: Unfinished Business

Then:

Gabe knows Dean likes Dr. Sexy

Now:

In a darkened back alley, a man walks drunkenly away from a liquor store. A kazoo sounds in the distance. Ah, it seems that our favorite archangel’s horn is actually a kazoo. And the drunken man is actually Fenrir Odinsbane, one of the demi-gods that sold Gabriel to Asmodeus. Gabe confronts Fenrir.

Fisticufts ensue. Gabriel wins, but barely.

The Winchesters, meanwhile, are checking into a motel. Dean’s updating Cas on the phone about their plans. SOFT. They really got married and didn’t tell us. Dean is frustrated with their lack of finding Gabriel, but Rowena’s spell said he could be close. He wants to locate him, and get a move on finding their mom and Jack. These thoughts all manifest before he knew this motel room has magic fingers of course. (Love the call back to earlier seasons. Not only is Gabriel back, but the room has a gritty and dark feel that evokes early seasons as well.) Their work is reduced by 100% when Gabriel knocks on their door.

In the AU, Jack is proudly telling Mary about his growing abilities. Mary’s concerned about the logistics of maintaining the resistance. (Hoard toilet paper!) Fellow freedom fighter, Jacob, arrives and tells them that the angels are leaving.

Gabe, torso bleeding and powers low, inquires about his grace. The brothers inform him that it’s gone, so he’ll have to wait for his grace to recharge before he can heal himself.

Jack uses his powers to see Michael’s headquarters. It’s just as Jacob reported: Empty. Jack wants to go there.

Sam and Dean ask Gabriel for his help (again) but he’s not much of a joiner. Before he can ditch again, they get a visit from Fenrir’s brothers: Narfi and Sleipnir.

Fisticuffs ensue. Gabriel offs Narfi but Sleipnir escapes.

Once at Michael’s headquarters, the resistance finds a map --it’s clearly the North American continent, but it’s not the United States anymore. It’s creepy! I love it. It shows a concentration of army figures in what was once the southern United States. They also find Kevin Tran! He was left behind when the angels left town. (So this apocalypse has only been happening for eight years? Like, did it follow the same timeline as our universe?) He reveals that “there’s a place in the south where the walls between worlds are thin.” He plans on entering our world there.

Sam and Dean locks Gabriel up and force him to spill his story. Loki and Gabriel go way back --to the time when Gabriel saved Loki. Loki owed Gabe one so when Gabriel needed to hide from the world, Loki set him up in Monte Carlo with porn stars. This sequence is pure gold. I love it all.

Well, the fun and games had to end eventually, and Gabriel was kidnapped and sold to Asmodeus. Gabriel wants revenge, and because he’s low on grace, he’s doing it the old fashioned way --with wooden stakes. 

He even has one reserved for Loki himself.

In the AU, the group continues to strategize their plan for Michael.

And, yo, Dean is in a bad place, guys. He’s drinking from his flask. He also isn’t convinced Gabriel’s revenge is the best plan.

Dean pulls Sam into the hallway to have a “private” conversation (really close to an archangel so how private can it really be?). He's concerned that Gabriel's revenge plot is a waste of time...for them and for Gabriel as well. Revenge never did a damn thing for himself, for their dad… Dean calls Sam out on his own unspoken revenge fantasy of killing Lucifer. Still, Sam convinces Dean to give Gabriel’s plan a try and they get ready to head out. Gabriel knows where to go, too. Loki is holed up in the penthouse of the Ophidian hotel. (Ophidian means snake.) How...obvious of Loki.

Gabriel gleefully pulls out his cartoonish kill list. Dean is...less than impressed. “This is so stupid,” he mutters, which puts a nice lampshade on the more obvious Kill Bill parallels.

So the plan is that they'll kill Sleipnir, then Loki in the penthouse. “Easy peasy like a breezy,” Gabriel declares. GABE. Stop charming us!

In the AU Mary strongly urges Jack to calm the fuck down and take it slow. She compares him to herself as a hunter. “Running in blind into every fight? That's how you make mistakes.” She begs for Jack to reconsider his plan to go south and attack Michael right away. “I can't lose another boy,” she says. (This reminds us all that she thinks Cas is dead and we spend the next hour weeping.)

Kevin interrupts. He tells them that Michael set him one more task...and if he does it then he gets to go to Heaven to see his mother. Everyone’s instantly on their guard because Kevin looks...intense. Mary pushes one of the resistance leader’s guns down and tries to talk to Kevin. She tells him that Heaven is just memories and that nothing there is real. (I’m like...FINALLY this show is really addressing again what a fucked up situation Heaven actually is! Thank you Mary, for calling it like it fucking is.)

Kevin doesn't care though. He's suffered. He's done terrible things. And now he wants it to end. Kevin tells Jack that Michael doesn't want to kill him. He wants to break him. Then Kevin presses his hand to a sigil carved into his chest and flaring blue light fills the room. Oh, Kevin. Getting the shaft in every universe. :(

Jack wraps his wings around Mary at the last minute.

Cut back to Gabe’s stylized revenge story. Our heroes stalk their way up through the dingy Ophidian hotel corridors. In the elevator Gabriel instructs the Winchesters that they can kill the guards but Sleipnir and Loki are his to kill.

The elevator opens upstairs to reveal Sleipnir and two guards in plain view. Both sides freeze for a moment, processing. And then...Gabriel douses the lights. Gunfire erupts and the fighting is illuminated in flashes of light as the Winchesters and Gabriel advance on their quarry.

When Gabe turns on the lights again he has Sleipnir on the floor beneath his blade...and Dean's disappeared with the suitcase full of the rest of the blades. Gabe kills Sleipnir and then he and Sam chase after Dean.

Dean stalks his way up to the penthouse, bearing Loki's wooden blade. He tips open the door and finds Loki at last. Loki sits calmly in his brightly lit penthouse suite sucking on a lollipop.

He places his sucker into his lollipop humidor - which is a delightful touch. I mean, I seriously want to send a card to whoever made it to thank them for being an awesome and creative human being. Loki reveals that he's out for his own revenge against Gabriel. Gabriel went against their original deal. He was supposed to lay low and stay out of his family's apocalyptic nonsense and in exchange, Loki would hide him. But when Gabriel drew all the gods to the Elysian Fields hotel back in season 5, he got Odin killed. For that, Loki wants his revenge.

Loki tells Dean that his father was terrible to him, but that he would do anything to avenge him – and wouldn't Dean agree with that? (Whoa, this episode is doing all kinds of digging up the past and I LOVE it.) Dean represses heavily, blows off his explanation, and tries to stab him, but it turns out that Loki is just a projected illusion. He's elsewhere in the hotel!

Cue Gabriel, tearing around a corner with Sleipnir's blade. He finds Loki hanging out downstairs…

Back in the penthouse, projection!Loki hits Dean and Dean realizes that Loki can hit him...but he can't make a dent in Loki. It's the “perks” of fighting a real trickster, apparently. Sam arrives, shoots, and fake Loki poofs out.

Meanwhile, (the probably real?) Loki taunts Gabriel about how he went to him for help during the apocalypse. Gabe can’t do anything on his own. I get the sense that if Loki had access to a pen and paper, he’d draw a sidewalk-artist caricature of Gabriel dressed in a dirty diaper. Dean and Sam show up and Dean slides Gabriel the Loki blade, but Loki continues to burn Gabriel. Gabriel lived for nothing. He'll die for nothing. Gabriel swallows down his despair, kills Loki, and then shares a nod with Sam. (This is where I see the seeds of Gabriel’s redemption sown. It’ll be interesting to see how this affects Sam’s journey.)

Back in the AU, light streams in through the crosses in the walls, illuminating ruined bodies. Jack's wings unfurl to reveal Mary unconscious in his embrace. He stares around the ruined church in despair. I stare around the ruined church in despair. Oh, Kevin.

Outside the hotel, Sam and Dean head to the Impala and stuff those cool wooden blades into Baby’s trunk. (I’m definitely NOT imagining Dean playing with them in his bathrobe in the bunker...when he’s mentally in a better place, anyway.) Gabriel thanks the Winchesters for their help and then asks how they all plan to kill Michael. He’s ready to help them. “No tricks?” Dean asks.

“Tricks are for kids,” Gabriel replies. Sam asks how Gabe is feeling after he had his revenge and he tells him that he feels, “Swell. I'm a whole new guy.” As Sam turns away, Gabriel’s smile fades....

In the AU, Jack tells Mary that Kevin’s attack was his fault. Mary consoles him. God, Mary is just the BEST. So strong and world weary.

Back in the bunker, Cas is reportedly helping Gabe get settled in while Dean healthily downs whiskey at the war room table. Sam asks Dean why he went after Loki without them. “This has become a whole thing with you lately,” Sam protests. He wants to know why Dean's treating him with kid gloves and keeping him out of fights.

“You remember what happened the last time we got front row tickets to the Lucifer/Michael show?” Dean asks. He tells Sam that he doesn’t care what happens to himself...but he cares about Sam. (I’ll take this moment to point out Dean’s flask drinking during the case earlier...and how Billie told him she’d see him soon. I’m pretty sure Dean’s staring down the barrels of impending death right now...and he thinks he deserves it.) Sam tells Dean that they'll save Jack and their mom together – or they'll die together. Dean loves this plan.

Dudes.

These Quotes are on my Kill List:

No gimmicks. No tricks. Just mano a mano.

He died as he lived. Side by side with the bottle.

Raspberries.

Don't let anybody ever tell you you're just a pretty face.

If I can't keep them safe then what's the point?

The hell are you guys? The hell are these guys?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[hannahs-words]

Trevor Trundle and the Teabags

Trevor Trundle and the Teabags

Trevor Trundle and his wife, Trudy, watched the butterflies flicker over their garden, which was somewhat unusual for November. Trevor and Trudy sat in identical winged armchairs, drinking from identical floral teacups. On the television, some newsreaders prattled on about global warming and how some rather important glaciers were melting, something Trevor didn’t really understand and Trudy didn’t care about. He continued to watch the butterflies, ignoring the faint tinkling of shattering glass coming from somewhere not too far away.

“Well, that’s that then, Trudy,” Trevor said, his knuckles resting on his chin.

“That’s what?” Trudy replied.

“It’s supposedly the end of the world. June from next door said all these big storms we’ve been having are to do with this global warming stuff. She says we haven’t heard from some other countries in days,” Trevor said.

“Nonsense,” Trudy exclaimed abruptly, in a tone which implied she’d very much like Trevor to shut up about this topic.

Apparently not getting the hint, Trevor continued, “Well, let’s just suppose it is the end of everything. What would you want to do?”

There was a pause. Trudy adjusted her glasses and stared at the paisley-patterned carpet.

“I think I’d quite like a cup of tea,” she said eventually.

Trevor glanced down at his wife’s empty teacup.

“Oh. All right,” he said.

He rose from the armchair with his joints popping and snapping. He scooped up the teacup and hobbled into the cornflower-blue kitchen, which was a mess of baking tools, unwashed pans, and biscuit tins. Trevor reached the cupboard where he knew the teabags lived. He tentatively opened the door and saw an assortment of cream crackers, jams and chocolate biscuits. He was looking for Tippington’s Teabags, he and Trudy’s favourite kind. They wouldn’t use anything else. But then Trevor’s blood ran cold. He couldn’t see any teabags. He rummaged through the cupboard frantically, but soon accepted what was. The teabags were gone.

His palms clammy, Trevor called, “Trudy…there aren’t any teabags left!”

“Oh, crumbs. Well, would you mind popping out and getting us some more?” Trudy replied.

Trevor thought back to the news report and the butterflies in the garden.

“I’m not sure how simple it will be, Trudy,” he began, but Trudy interrupted him, saying, “I would go and get them, but my back’s been playing up all day and it looks like it’s going to rain!”

Trevor glanced out of the kitchen window. The sky had the purplish-blue colour of a bruise. He t he could see little forks of lightning dancing around among the clouds.

“Oh, all right,” he said, wandering down the hallway and pulling on his wax jacket, “I’ll pop to the shop and get some. See you in a bit, Trudy.”

Trevor grabbed his walking stick and hobbled out of the front door. He glanced back through the living room window and saw Trudy sitting in her chair, staring out at the garden. Trevor wondered whether it was truly the end of the world, and found that the thought didn’t trouble him much. He’d lived a long life and, frankly, was sick of arthritis. He carried on down the garden path until he reached the street, narrowly dodging a wheelie bin that was on fire. Trevor hoped it didn’t belong to him, though he supposed it didn’t matter anyway.

After twenty minutes of slow hobbling, Trevor reached the corner shop. A gang of hooded youths stood around the doorway like spotty grim reapers. Trevor grumbled. He didn’t want to have to turn back because of some louts that were not even a quarter of his age.

One of the youths, a gangly boy, shouted, “Oi, mate! You don’t wanna come in here!”

“I can go where I bloody well please,” Trevor shouted back.

“No, I mean, you really don’t wanna come in here! It’s been looted!” the boy called.

“And it’s on fire! Like literally in flames!” the boy’s stocky friend added.

Trevor leaned on his walking stick and sighed. There were, in fact, coils of smoke rising from the shop.

“Is there anything you needed? We got together and saved what we could,” the tall boy said.

The teenagers stepped aside to reveal crates full of assorted, if somewhat damaged, foodstuffs.

“Do you have any Tippington’s?” Trevor called.

“The teabags? Think you’re out of luck there, mate,” the tall boy replied.

“Oh, crumbs,” Trevor muttered.

Trevor decided to try elsewhere. He hobbled off down the street, which was lined with terraced houses. The street was vibrant with colour and life. Cars had been parked haphazardly in the middle of the road. Music blasted from the speakers of one of the cars. A group of small children were drawing with chalk on the pavement. The family next door to them were pouring ladles of curry into bowls for people. Everything felt unseasonably warm. Trevor approached the family with the curry.

“Excuse me,” he said, “Do you know where I can find some Tippington’s tea?”

The woman of the family, who had her hair in a chunky, black plait, replied, “Sorry, I don’t know. Would you like some homemade curry? It’s free!”

Trevor politely declined and trudged onwards. Suddenly, a rat-faced teenager jumped out of an alleyway, right in front of Trevor.

“Did I hear you say you want some teabags?” the teenager asked, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Yes, that’s right. Tippington’s teabags,” Trevor replied.

“I can get you some.”

“Oh, excellent! I’d happily give you the money for them…”

“Money don’t matter no more, mate. Just come with me and I’ll get you the tea.”

Trevor felt wary, but he thought back to the nice boys from before and was comforted. He followed the teenager down the alleyway. The teenager stopped in front of a slightly buckled, silver garage door and knocked. The door clanged open, and Trevor and the teenager entered. Trevor gasped. Though the garage was pitch black, illuminated only by candles, Trevor could see swarms of people and he could just about make out the shapes of small tables, laden with objects.

“It’s a,” Trevor began, and the teenager finished, “Black market!”

“This is ridiculous! I have to get my Tippington’s from the black market?!” Trevor exclaimed.

“Well, you’ll struggle to get it anywhere else, that’s for sure. What do you want? We’ve got regular, Earl grey, green...”

“Hold on just a minute. If you’re not accepting money, then what are you gaining from all of this?” Trevor asked, scratching his bald head.

“Anything we can use in the post-apocalyptic wasteland would be nice. That jacket of yours would look pretty sweet with a few adjustments. I’d be like the overlord of the apocalypse,” the teenager said wistfully, his eyes glazed.

“’Post-apocalyptic wasteland’?” Trevor said, perplexed, “What on earth do you mean?”

“Ain’t you heard, mate? Massive tsunami coming our way, caused by all that melting ice,” the teenager replied.

“Nah,” a teenage girl with red hair interjected, “It’s a massive storm! Gonna take down all the electricity and stuff!”

“I’ve heard it’s gonna end with the sun melting everyone,” another voice added.

A small girl, half of Trevor’s height, popped up from behind a table and said, “I’ve heard it’s all three!”

“Oh, crumbs. I suppose I had better get the tea from here, then,” said Trevor, “I’ll give you my jacket for it. It’s too warm for it anyway. Regular tea, please.”

“Cheers, mate. I’ll just get it,” the rat-faced teenager said.

He disappeared and returned with a small, cuboid box. It read ‘Tippington’s Tea’ and had a picture of some fresh tea leaves on the box.

“Here you are, mate. The jacket, please,” said the teenager.

Trevor pulled off his wax jacket and the boy handed the box to him.

“Wait a minute. This box feels a bit heavy,” Trevor said, but the boy had scurried off and disappeared into the darkness of the black market.

Trevor exited the garage into the sweltering daylight and opened the box.  Inside was a large, smooth pebble…but no teabags. Trevor swore loudly. He looked to the sky, which was still bruise-coloured, only now it seemed heavier and closer to the ground somehow. Trevor pressed on, determined to find the teabags before all hell broke loose. The problem was he didn’t really know where to begin. He didn’t fancy trading any more of his valuables for empty boxes. So, feeling slightly bewildered, he wandered up the street, ending up at the village green, where some sort of party was going on. There was a fresh-faced band playing acoustic music. Some little girls made daisy chains and handed out flowers to people.  Two policeman were sitting on a bench getting fairly drunk with the village idiot. Trevor marvelled at the scene, but tried not to get distracted. He made his way around the green, dodging drunk revellers and dirty children. The sky above him seemed closer than ever, pregnant with an angry storm. Trevor tried to shove his way through the gathered crowd, determined to escape the weather, but found himself blocked at every turn. He was stuck behind a tall, fat and shirtless man when there was a deafening crack as the sky broke apart. Globules of rain and hail the size of baby’s fists fell on people’s heads. Forks of lightning threatened to scorch the ground. Trevor wished he hadn’t given the rat-faced teenager his jacket and cowered behind the giant man in front of him. He was surprised to notice nobody was running from the rain. They splashed in muddy puddles and hooted and hollered. Trevor supposed that, since they knew the world was ending, people didn’t mind getting a bit wet. He thought it was vastly inconsiderate of them. All he wanted was some teabags, and instead he was caught in the middle of some hippy lovefest. His walking stick was starting to sink through the soil.

“Excuse me,” he growled, emerging from behind the giant man and pushing aside a group of old ladies.  

Suddenly, he had a bit of an epiphany. One of the few places he could think of where the supply of Tippington’s was almost limitless was his sister, Hilda’s. Hilda lived in a little cottage directly adjacent to the village green, where she could keep an eye on everything and everyone in the village. Hilda was bright and cheerful on the outside, but the secrets of many villagers festered inside her. Trevor set off, rain starting to trickle down his neck. It didn’t take him long to arrive at Hilda’s cottage, the front garden of which was adorned with several somewhat menacing garden gnomes. He knocked on the door. He heard Hilda unlock numerous medieval locking devices before the door popped open, and there she stood. She strongly resembled Trevor, with an angular jawline and fearsome eyebrows, except she liked to wear bright pink lipstick.

“Trevor!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “Come in, it’s been too long!”

Trevor smiled and followed her through a dark, brown hallway which Trevor knew hadn’t changed since the seventies. Pictures of Hilda’s late husband and countless children and grandchildren lined the walls. Trevor felt a pang of jealousy, but he brushed it aside.

“I’ll be quick, Hilda,” he said after he seated himself in a floral armchair, “I’m looking for some Tippington’s. I can’t find it anywhere, but it’s important to Trudy.”

“You’re just in luck, I was just about to settle down with my final cup. The kettle’s boiling as we speak. How is Trudy? I heard from June that she’s not been well. June says she seems to be getting worse,” Hilda blathered.

“June should mind her own business,” Trevor grumbled, “So, you say you have Tippington’s?”

“Yes, yes, patience is a virtue. Did you know our Daniel has a job now? He’s seventeen now, they grow up so fast, too fast, in fact,” Hilda babbled, referring to her grandson.

Trevor sighed, leaning on his walking stick. He looked at the kitschy decorative plates hanging off Hilda’s garish wallpaper and busied himself by counting the number of flowers on the plates. The rain drummed against the windows and the thunder rumbled irritably. After what seemed like an eon, Hilda arrived, carrying a tea-tray and three steaming cups of tea.

“Here you are, three cups of Tippington’s. Did you hear about the world ending? It’s terrifying. I don’t fancy it one bit. Doreen, from next door, said they were giving away free cruises. Wish I’d gone on one. Sounds like good fun. I suppose that party outside must be to sort of celebrate, but I don’t fancy that, it all seems a bit macabre, doesn’t it? I-“

“Hilda, I was really just hoping for the teabags,” Trevor interrupted his sister’s babbling, “I don’t see how I can get a full cup of Tippington’s to Trudy, especially in the rain.”

“Well, she’s just outside. Bring her in, I don’t bite,” Hilda replied.

“What? How could she be here?”

“I don’t know, but she is, I saw her earlier. In fact,” Hilda squinted, “She’s just outside, by that big tree.”

Trevor looked out through the sheets of rain, spotting his wife sheltering under a tree. He staggered to his feet, and walked as quickly as his old bones would allow. He burst through the front door.

“Trudy!” he hollered.

His wife turned slowly. Her hair was dripping and her floral dress was lined with dirt. Trevor finally reached her.

“What are you doing here, Trudy?” he asked, hugging her.

“Isn’t this fantastic? All this music and life? Whatever is this party for?” Trudy smiled.

Trevor’s heart lurched. His wife had forgotten it was the end of the world. He looked around at all the people. It seemed just like any other party. He looked at his wife’s face, wrinkled but still somehow youthful, thought about how she didn’t deserve to die, and sighed.

“I-it’s your birthday party, Trudy. Didn’t you know? Happy birthday, darling,” Trevor decided to lie.

“My birthday? How old am I?” Trudy asked.

“You’re as old as you want to be, love,” Trevor said, “Since it’s your birthday, what would you want to do?”

“All I’d really like is a cup of tea,” Trudy replied.

“All right. Hilda’s got Tippington’s. Our favourite,” he smiled.

“Oh, good. I could do with a cup of tea,” Trudy repeated, frowning slightly.

The pair entered Hilda’s cottage. Hilda was caressing the cup of tea in her hands.

“You’re back. Hello, Trudy,” she called jubilantly, “have some tea!”

Trudy said nothing, like a shy child. Trevor thought he saw Hilda shake her head. Trudy and Trevor sat down in adjacent floral armchairs.

“Well. This is it. The final cup of tea. I do wonder if there’s tea in the afterlife. I should hope so. I suppose if there isn’t I’ll know I’m in hell. What a laugh! I hope I don’t end up in hell. I’ll give Hitler a what-for if I do. Is it wrong to be scared to die? I am nearly eighty, so I suppose it is. Living is for the young. God, how frightening this ‘end of the world’ business is,” Hilda waffled.

There was something in Hilda’s voice which made Trevor hesitate. Hilda drank the tea as if she’d just exited the desert, chugging the whole lot like a shot.

“I’m frightened,” Hilda croaked.

Suddenly, she started to convulse. Her mouth frothed. Trevor leapt up, shouting his sister’s name, but it was too late. She sank to the carpet, the teacup rolling from her shaking hands. Trevor saw some blue powder at the bottom of the cup and jumped towards Trudy, knocking the teacup from her hands and simultaneously kicking his cup over. It shattered on impact.

“Hey!” Trudy shouted indignantly.

“I’m sorry, love. Hold on.”

Trevor hobbled into the kitchen, where the Tippington’s box lay. Inside was a singular teabag.

“I’ll make you a new cup!” Trevor called to his wife.

With shaking hands, Trevor made the tea, then bought it to Trudy.

“Only one? What about you?” Trudy asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“We could share mine, if you like.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“You’ve been very nice to me today,” Trudy said. Her next words cut Trevor like a knife, “What’s your name again?”

“It’s Trevor.”

“Have we met before?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Silence fell. Trudy looked out of the window.

“What’s happening out there?” she asked.

“It’s your birthday party,” Trevor said with a sigh.

“Everyone’s acting very strange,” Trudy continued.

Trevor looked out of the window. The rain had stopped. Everyone was pointing at the sky.

“Come on. Let’s go and see what’s happening. Bring the tea,” he said.

The pair left the cottage together, Trudy clutching the cup of tea. Trevor looked to the sky. It seemed almost tangible, burning orange and warm. It looked like a sunset, though by Trevor’s watch it was only lunchtime.

“Do you want to watch the sunset?” he asked Trudy.

“I’d like that,” Trudy smiled.

The couple sat down on a wooden bench underneath Hilda’s living room window. Everything seemed to be bathed in a blinding white light. Trudy sipped the tea.

“I can’t believe we’re going to die with you not knowing who I am. I wish you could remember. I loved you with every inch of my heart and you don’t know who I am,” Trevor said tearfully, his heart sinking.

Trudy passed the tea to Trevor and he took a long sip. The whiteness was engulfing the people on the green. Trevor sipped the tea. The whiteness was creeping towards them, almost at their toes.

Trevor’s heart swelled as he said, “The tea’s gone now, but it was very nice. I enjoyed it.” He paused, “A little like life, I suppose.”

Trudy looked to the empty teacup. She looked deeply into Trevor’s eyes and chuckled, “I may not remember you. But I know that I love you.”

THE END

[onkey-bedtime-stories]

EUNOIA - chapter 3

Chapter 2

—————-

Though it is summer, the sky’s drawn saturated this morning. Away from coast-crowded situation and glowing skin under sunny day, someone’s already occupied in the kitchen. It’s not even seven in the morning more to surprise.

And what makes the whole scene is more surreal for Junghee when she got on the wooden floor of the living room is her eyes caught Kibum messing around between the stove and her favorite kitchen island. To reassure herself she’s one hundred percent awake and everything before her is not merely random mirage in her life, she checked the clock once again and the urge of pinching herself is undeniable.

Six fifty. Who woke up at six fifty?

Walking to the kitchen silently, she can’t help but gasp when colorful plates full of waffle chicken strips, and bacon lay on a checkered table cloth she just bought last week. Kibum is struggling squeezing some oranges near the sink when she darted her eyes in disbelief.

“Let me do that.”

She doesn’t need to observe too much when Kibum lifted his head. Definitely not even a minute he got to sleep the night before, those bloody eyes and dried skin tell everything. Without saying anything, Kibuk stepped aside, wiped his hand while Junghee easily got all the juice out with single hand.

Before the things became more awkward in the stillness of the air, he moved to the coffee maker to prepare some shot.

“I’m sorry.”

Kibum pretends he didn’t hear anything and chose to follow every single drip of the dark liquid in front of him.

“I just.. you know, very worried and overwhelmed with everything.”

He turned to his side after a deep breath. She looks even tinier with such level of anxiety all over her skin. At the end, his heart’s softened, simple arch formed on his tired face.

“I apologize for yelling to you, too.”

“She’s been through a lot and the fact I wasn’t there at the very second she needed me.. It broke my heart. Now she’s here, suddenly I just wanted to protect her with all my might. It scared me to death when I couldn’t reach her yesterday. All of the thoughts.. Her brother concerns.. for the sui—suicidal.. possibility.. I—I went cr—crazy right away.. I—“

Kibum’s unable to catch the rest since Junghee grabbed the edge of the counter, knuckles almost white, mewling as if someone kill her parents.

“Ssshh..” Kibum embraced her and let her leaned on him for consolation, “I know.. I told you I understand, right? And I’m sorry I’m supposed to text you anyway that Eunsook’s with me. Guess I’ve been selfish..”

“I’m the selfish one. I never asked her what she need because I’m afraid I’d hurt her more by mentioning something close to that topic and just doing whatever I thought the best for her without even care if she’s comfortable with that,” she peeled herself from Kibum, wiping her slightly swollen eyes with the back of her fore arms, “So, are we cool now?”

“We never not cool, Kim Junghee, you know that,” he messed with his friend hair which she replied with hugging Kibum torso in return, “But, you’d kill me if you’re like this.”

He acts like having difficulty in breathing but instead released him, she tighten her grip more as if she really wanted to choke him, “I will really kill you if you dare hurting my best friend, Kim Kibum.”

“I promise you I won’t.”

“Don’t ever think this is your pass! If this is an intersection, the red light is still on.”

He chuckles and gives her pats on the head, “Alright, Shorty! I told you before you’re kind of scary when you’re mad.”

“I told you not to flirt more than one girl under the same roof, Kim Kibum! This is second warning..”

Minho teased both of them while running down stairs, he feels contented with the view of make-up-friends greets him in the morning after last night he spent almost three hours listening slash consoling Junghee because half of the time she’s not only pissed off and ranted but also sobbed liked she was in her own funeral.

“Wait. What did you just said?”

The tall guy realized he slipped something he shouldn’t so he stretched awkwardly, “Good morning, baby.”

Minho kisses his wife passionately, what a view for sore eyes, Kibum mumbles something inaudibly, completely not pleased with them.

“Let’s have breakfast, people. I don’t like cold food. Choi Minho, enough snogging and bring the coffee,” Kibum tried to escape the crime scene as soon as possible before Junghee exploded again.

“Uh-oh! Not that quick, Choi Minho. Stop right there!”

Junghee entailed right behind Minho who just kept walking to join Kibum because at this moment some waffles would be super helpful.

“What exactly do you mean by flirt only at one? You’re kidding, right?”

“Eat, honey, you need it after the whole rounds we had last night,” he ended the morning drama with a wink.

Kibum rolled his eyes again then massaged his temple to ease his rage. But Junghee just cannot let it go after she smelled the big fish jumped out the can. She chewed the chicken strips furiously and gulped it down with tall glass of orange juice.

“Baby, I love you very much so let’s be honest. You knew this after all?”

“Knew what?”

It’s actually hard for Minho to act clueless with Junghee’s eyes caught drilling a hole through him from the corner of his own.

“That this idiot has a crush with Eunsook? With my best friend?”

Junghee put more strength on each syllables.

“Hmmm.. Kind of?”

Kibum quickly removed the knife from Junghee’s plate sensing his life is in a big threat.

“Kind of?! What the hell is kind of?!”

“Wow.. wow.. slow down, Junghee! It’s seven in the morning!”

“Shut up, you’re next!” she pointed her fork to Kibum which the latter instantly raised both his hands to the air then returned back to her husband, “Okay, tell me, what kind of ‘kind of’ is that? Since when?”

Minho purposely takes time to finish a bite of waffle, “Since the first time they met?”

“Excuse me?!”

Kibum slapped his forehead and glanced to the door of Eunsook’s room hoping Junghee’s loud voices not waking her up even if he’s pretty sure her voice can be heard up until the next two houses.

“You know that and you didn’t tell me? At all? Not even hint?!”

“Well, in my defense, honey, I’m still not sure back then but you know.. you got this hunch you cannot sleep on..”

She put down her fork when her consciousness told her to calm a little bit, “And you’re sure right now?”

“I was pretty sure when you rant last night about how Kibum took her here and there and didn’t text you or call you. By that, my dear wife, I will say, yes, he has a crush on our Lady Eunsook. Now can I get a peaceful breakfast I haven’t got since last week?”

“Lower your voice, will you?!”

Suddenly Kibum feels his seat is burning, it’s so hard to stay composed while he’s anxious as hell, because he knew his friends really well and they’re not that good at being quiet.

“I can’t believe it! You all team up behind my back so this jock over here can make his dirty move to my Eunsook?!”

“For the love of God, there’s nothing so called dirty with having a good talk in a café and shopping for some camera’s stuffs. Do you know that you sound like Mother Gothel now?” Kibum ignores Junghee’s unforgiving glare and took another round of piles of bacon, “Speaking of your beloved Rapunzel.. where is Eunsook? You should wake her up to have some breakfast, you evil host!”

“She’s not home.”

“Nonsense! She was there last night talking to me.”

Feeling annoyed Junghee grabbed her phone and shook it on the air, “She texted me she went for a run.”

“Run? When?”

“I don’t know.. around five?”

She went out at five while I’ve been awake the whole night in my room? Stupid headphones!!!

“Why? Why she went for a run?”

“What do you care? She can go running whenever she wants! Especially after she felt suffocated and almost had a heart attack when she woke up in the dark! Who’s the Mother Gothel now?!”

“What?!”

“Stop shouting at me!”

“No, argh, I’m sorry,” he gulped some coffee to tone him down, “Kim Junghee, what did you just say about this suffocated and dark?”

“Gosh, I cannot believe I said this to you.. Eunsook is a bit claustrophobic, that’s why she..”

“..kept the light on at night.”

Her ears suddenly perked up with what he said even though Kibum sounded like he murmured for himself, “How did you know?!”

“Shit shit shit!!! You’re an idiot, Kim Kibum!”

“Kim Kibum, look at me. How did you know?”

Kibum bites his lower lip, looking at Minho for any moral support but his best friend just put a cool expression also waiting for him to spill the bean. He’s contemplating whether he should tell her he turned off her light or just keep it in secret until he faced his death. Because once again, angry Kim Junghee is scarier than any slaughter house and no one under this roof want to deal with that.

“Good morning!”

Kibum about to open his mouth when a beautiful voice‘s chirping from the front door followed by glowing face popped out the front door. Both Junghee and Kibum immediately turned pale.

“Good morning! Right on time, Eunsook-ah! Come join breakfast!”

Minho who senses something is wrong took the lead to greet Eunsook. She smiled so wide, almost blinding in Kibum’s opinion, walked to the other three while still wiping the sweat dripping on her forehead.

“Wow! What a feast!” she received the orange juice from Minho and naturally took the empty chair next to Kibum, “Thank you!”

“Do you like waffles? Kibum made this!”

“Really?! That’s why the chicken strips look so beautiful! Tell me what you cannot do, Kibum!”

She rested her hand on his shoulder unexpectedly. Frenzy pink, Kibum jolted from his chair snatching the coffee pitcher, “We need more coffee!”

“Gosh, I don’t know it’s because I’m starving or he put something here, but this waffle is bomb! Let alone the chicken strips!”

Eunsook looks like someone just had been saved from an apocalyptic bunker and saw real food for the first time, she cannot stop picking the pieces from the plates.

“Well, just so you know, my friend over there had a great cooking skill since middle school.”

“Ah, no wonder. You should make me dinner sometimes!”

“Ugh, yeah, I will..,” then he saw the look at Junghee eyes, “If I have time. I will!”

“That would be so amazing!” she scoops more chicken strips and moved it to her plate, “What’s the point of working out if I ate like a monster? I think this is what I need, Junghee-ah! A man who can cook! What a perfect life, no? Choi Minho! You should start learning to cook! I told you, women love you more if you know how to move in the kitchen!”

Minho just laughs out loud knowing what she said might kill two birds at a time. On the other hand, Kibum wants to grab the nearest knife and stab himself on the chest.

***

“What?! Did you steal some weeds when I’m not around?” when the scent of Eunsook’s perfume brushed his respiratory system lightly, Kibum realized he’s too closed with the woman and quickly stepped back, elbow painfully bumped into the door knob, “The infinity room is the best!”

Eunsook put her shoes quickly and grabbed the slippers in a blink of an eye started feeling suffocated in the limited space of the foyer, plus Kibum is kind of trapped with her making it harder for her to control her breathe.

“I know. But don’t you think the part when we’re laying around on the net, almost twenty feet above the ground is amazing?”

He shook his head so hard when he pushed the next door, “Excuse me, Miss, no one messing around with Kusama.”

“Just saying, you know.. She is amazing, no doubt, but still..”

“Still the best charm in the museum. Period.”

“Is Kibum being stubborn again?”

They forgot they reached the living room already. The sight in front of them is Kibum’s usual view on the other night, Minho’s chilling on the couch after work, beer on the table, and some football on the huge screen on the wall.

“I just found out today,” Eunsook shrugged and dropped herself on the couch next to Minho while Kibum went straight to the kitchen.

“Welcome to the family, Lee Eunsook. He has a huge tendency to be a bit pushy sometimes.”

“Well, at least I’m not handsy like that guy who tried to grope Eunsook’s tight when we’re waiting on the line on the food truck festival.”

He handed the beer to Eunsook while the latter turned pink while she put the pouty mouth, instantly sending goosebumps along Kibum’s spine.

“Really? Did he mana—“

“Nope,” Kibum lifted his legs to the table proudly, “I kicked his shin before those filthy hands landed on her.”

“What a news. Wait until Junghee heard about this. I think she would definitely make up some curfew for the rest of your life.”

“Speaking of the devil, where’s my favorite witch?”

“That witch you’re talking about is my best friend, you know!”

“And my wife!”

“Well, doesn’t change the fact that she might do a spell of unbreakable curse on us or turn us into an ugly frog if we didn’t please her.”

“Good point.”

Minho and Eunsook said and unison, they laughed right away the next second then followed with a beautiful clink when their bottles met for a celebratory buddy-toast.

“I haven’t thanked you enough for that.”

“What are you saying? Anyone should do that whenever they saw some shit about to happen. It’s called common sense.”

“Got a good reflex. He almost joined the baseball team if he’s not collapsed on the field after only two rounds of running track.”

“Shut the front door, Choi Minho!”

“Oh, that attitude! Is this supposed to make my heart flutter?”

Eunsook teased him and Minho almost spurt the beer inside his mouth for laughing hard before he covered it. On the other side, Kibum regret whatever he had said earlier.

“But come on, really. Is that what’s supposed to? Because, let me tell you gentlemen, it wo—“

Her words hanging on the air when she felt her phone vibrates furiously on her purse. She bites her lip after quick glance to its screen.

“Sorry, I need to take this.”

Kibum can’t take his eyes off of her until her silhouette disappeared behind her room door. He tried to ignore Minho who’s clearly waiting for him to say something. After downed his beer, he casually turned his head to his right, unfortunately only to find his best friend immersed back to the game already.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Could be his brother.”

“She didn’t need to hide inside her room if it said so,” now it’s Minho’s turn to cock his head, “Taemin called during lunch and she talked to him comfortably in front of me.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“I don’t know.. maybe trying to convince myself not to dive deeper than I’m allowed? Or waiting for you to lecture me about stuff?”

“You know that I’m not my wife, right?”

“Hmmm.”

Sound of the commentator indicates the game is getting interesting but Minho is not amused anymore. Ten years of friendship shows him that when Kibum started to peel the bottle label it means he’s in big trouble. Like now.

However, he doesn’t feel to say more for he’s afraid of interfering his personal space.

“Looks like we don’t need to wait for her to be back right?” Kibum grabbed his bag and unzipped the front pocket, “I forgot to give this to her. Can you do that for me? I better hit the bed now or I’ll miss the first train tomorrow morning.”

Minho looked at the Polaroid pictures landed on the cushion near his knee and sighed.

“It’s really happening, isn’t it?”

The latter kept his mouth shut until he safely slides under the blanket.

***

“I don’t know.. I haven’t bought my return ticket yet..,” she opened the window as the room’s temperature seemed raised since they began talking.

“But you’re going back to Paris right?”

“Of course.. who will take care my stuffs then?”

“Wow.. wow, easy there, tiger!”

“Hahaha! You know I’m sensitive when it came for my belonging.”

“I know. I know it too well. I still remember when Taemin broke your bag. It’s not that visible, though I found it necessary to take you eating ice cream for two hours to calm down your nerves.”

“Who will teach him a lesson if it’s not his own sister? It’s a rule, you have to return things you borrowed in the same condition.”

“Anyone barely can see it. Would it make different when only one thread a bit loose on the strap?”

Eunsook just chuckled when she remember how outrageous she was when Taemin gave her rucksack back after two weeks road trip. It was quite silly actually but that bag was first month anniversary gift from Jungsoo after she mentioned she likes it when they saw it on the window display they passed.

It’s not about the anniversary gift she cared about. It’s the fact that Park Jungsoo, the most ignorance human being she knew, remembered her unconscious random comment about the design of the bag.

“You haven’t thrown it out, have you?”

“Are you being serious right now? How can I throw away something important? I keep it safe and sound in my wardrobe in Paris.”

“Glad to know that I’m still considered important.”

An invisible fist stuck in Eunsook’s throat, blocking the airway she became speechless in no time.

“Are you okay, Sookie?”

“Ugh, yeah.. why not? For your information, it’s the bag that’s important.”

Jungsoo bursts into huge laughter in the other line, sending comforting breeze to Eunsook who naturally close her eyes.

Ah, those sound.

Eunsook kept her sentiment sealed, not any single soul out there knows how much she missed all of those, the giggles, the suppressed laughter when he’s not supposed to laugh, the rhythm of his breath. Anything she can hear clearly through the phone that convinced her he is real, not only an imaginary figure she created to fix her hectic life.

“Go get some rest. You must be exhausted.”

No. I don’t care.  I’ll trade all the time I have in the world to sleep for ten more minutes talking to you if it’s even make sense.

But deep in her heart she knows she is quite crazy to even think about that.

“Not really, but if you’re tired listen to me rambling about how colder here compare to the weather in Paris or Italy, it’s okay. You can hang up.”

“That’s the thing I’m billion percent sure it’s not going to happen in my existence.”

“Park Jungsoo, my favorite sweet talker, everyone.”

“Your favorite?”

Her heart skipped a bit by the simple question, “Yeah. Haven’t you heard about that?”

“Lee Eunsook, my favorite tease, everyone.”

“Don’t copy me.”

“I didn’t.”

“And what did you just do?”

“Telling you some fact?”

“Ugh, how lame.”

“You know I would be lame just for you?”

The words ‘I miss you’ are hanging dangerously on the tip of Eunsook’s tongue. She clutched the nearest piece of sheet she can reach to control herself.

“How thoughtful of you.”

“I’m always, ain’t I?” he’s pretty sure he can see her tiny smile right now, “Look what you’ve done. You should have gone to bed five minutes ago.”

“I told you I don’t mind.”

“And that’s how thoughtful of you. Go shower, get some rest. Let me know when you’re back to Paris, okay?”

“Stop telling me what to do, I’m not a baby, Park Jungsoo.”

“You’re always my baby, Lee Eunsook.”

At this rate, she wants to scream her lungs out and cry at the same time because she can tell it would be nothing but memories by the second their conversation ended.

“We’re only four years apart.”

“Doesn’t change the fact of the first clause.”

“This is why I hate you.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, you right.”

She tossed her phone aside after Jungsoo bid his farewell. Something weighed her down inside her chest.

It feels alright. It feels like the other day. But why I don’t feel good?

She turned to the left, looking forlornly to her phone, hoping it would ring once again. Nevertheless, Taemin’s voice is banging uncontrollably on her ear drums, instead.

‘You know yourself better than anyone. I really wanted say I know you better, but there’s a chance you’d slap me hard on the back of my head so, no. If you know your heart is not that ready to forget him, then don’t. People sometimes had mistaken letting go for forgetting. It’s forgiving, honey. And forgiving is way more liberating than trying so hard to bury all those you’ve been called memories.’

Her lips went dried when bunch of memory explosion appear like a long wild commercial before the movie started. She’s almost grateful for the conversation between her and Jungsoo not that changed so much. It did seem like nothing happened, like they never call it quits. But what’s so great figuring you grew sort of false hope in your yard of feeling? Like all the efforts would be in vain at the end once the flower is withered day by day as a replacement for blooming?

“Oh. Where’s Kibum?”

Minho already changed the channel into some old movie while the present of Kibum is changed with Junghee cuddled close to her husband.

“He went to his room already,” Minho bends to the table a little bit making annoyed face appeared on Junghee who already half in dreamland, “He wanted to give this to you.”

Am I that sad?

It’s a candid Kibum took of her while she’s daydreaming again for the hundred times. Her eyes are somewhere else, searching for something she can hold for dear life. The next one captured her silly face when he out of the blue said to her to look pretty behind his camera. Subtle warmth enveloped her heart when she saw herself on the last one, laughing like there’s no tomorrow for the first time since her breakup.

“I think he’s already in slumber. Got an early train tomorrow, he said.”

Minho calm words stopped her in the middle of her way to his doorstep. She looked Junghee’s eyes closed already. When she moved her sight to Minho, he just smiled. Smiled like he understands her whole circumstance. Smiled like he pleading her not to involve his best friend in her heart situation.

Bucket of guilty poured down from her head to toe. She sent Minho bitter smile and quietly left to her sanctuary.

Suddenly she doesn’t feel thirsty anymore.

***

No one can help it if we engrossed too much in our pool of regrets. On the other hand, we ourselves also cannot help but to fall into those pits while busy recalling the good times and refused to be saved? But one thing we should keep in mind even though we are too exhausted to try, some moments, some things, they’re meant to be forgotten. To keep us sane. To keep us living our life. To keep us reminded how precious we are :)

[steelplatedhearts]

sorcerer’s stone reread

it’s been 20 years, the epilogue just passed, i’m emotional as shit, it’s time for a full reread, one book at a time. these posts are gonna be less recaps and more reactions, tagged ‘madi rereads harry potter’ for your blacklisting needs, here we go!

-i'm reading this in the new fancy illustrated form because my original copy is lost in a box in the garage somewhere because i didn't label my shit properly when we moved, and it's kind of throwing me off because i left it on the lawn overnight when i was six and the sprinklers went off and now the pages are all warped and kind of rainbow-ish from the smeared ink, and i've gotten used to it. the SPINE IS INTACT on this new book, what is that NONSENSE

-there's a little grunnings picture in this that says BORING IS OUR BUSINESS. imagine working at a company where that's your motto.

-"it was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers; instead, little planets were moving around the edge" is this like the weasley's clock at all?

-honestly, what the fuck was dumbledore thinking. a LETTER? he couldn't have knocked on the door? did he just not want to give them a chance to refuse? what if they hadn't read the letter? what if they had just turned and dumped harry in a foster home? THERE ARE TOO MANY VARIABLES HERE, DUMBLEDORE. you left a small child outside in november.

-harry potter is cinderella. discuss.

-...you know upon reread i'm kind of...worried about dudley? because, okay, he's been spoiled to shit by his parents, and he's gotten the message directly from them that Harry is an Acceptable Target, and i'm kind of wondering what other messages he internalized? messages like different is bad and this is normal and maybe even if you're different we'll treat you like him. what might the dursleys have done, if dudley showed any signs of being different? if they didn't have someone they considered Obviously Inferior around to hold dudley up next to as a shining example? i think there's an interesting point to be made about the cycle of abuse and how it can be perpetuated even through children but like...fuck, guys, they're eleven years old and i will never stop wanting something where they banded together.

-also, fuck harry's old school instructors who just ignored the signs of neglect. we like to think it got better at hogwarts, but it really didn't, did it?

-damn guys i PROMISE THIS ISN'T GONNA BE A DOWNER THE WHOLE TIME

-i love the fucking snake scene. someone give harry a pet snake.

-come on, mrs. figg, you couldn't even let harry watch TELEVISION? sure, dumbledore didn't want you to make it "fun" or whatever, but you could've at least made it not miserable.

-when i was like, eleven or twelve, i got a harry potter stationery set for christmas and i used the book and a green marker to write myself a hogwarts acceptance letter with the plan of like, going to britain and talking my way in, somehow. I didn't make it out of the neighborhood, but i still think it would've worked.

-what happens if a muggle family doesn't want to send their kid to hogwarts? do they even get a choice??

-"Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag." does an eleven year old need a television, vcr, and computer? no. does this demonstrate exactly what i was worrying about a few bullet points back? yes

-these illustrations are fucking amazing. hagrid has a TROLL DOLL KEYCHAIN.

-HAGRID IS SO WONDERFUL! he brought cake! he treated harry gently! he listened! i love him!

-so wait, hogwarts knew that harry was living under the stairs but didn't know that the dursleys hadn't told him about magic? or if they did know, they didn't bother to fill in hagrid? WEAK.

-“I know some things,” he said. “I can, you know, do maths and stuff.” my precious son

-i just now realized that this illustrated edition has the british text, and my ancient original copy has all the american changes they made when they first published it.

-i would read a 50k epic about nothing but petunia and lily.

-"Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake" #same

-...okay, hagrid, i adore you beyond reason, but why didn't you give uncle vernon the pig's tail, considering he was the one you were actually mad at, rather than dudley, who was literally just standing there?

-I bought a harry potter knitting pattern book once and there were all these patterns for molly weasley but nothing for hagrid, & that's some bullshit. molly and hagrid should probably be in a knitting circle. god how many sweaters and hats and shit does hagrid knit for harry's kids

-i would also read 50k of quirrell backstory fic

-honestly, the wizarding world needs to get with the paper money program. can you imagine just carrying around PILES OF GOLD every time you go out? my purse barely fits all my shit as it is

-has anyone done any deep-delving goblin stuff? because i would be all over that

-"After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great.” man this line has ALWAYS STUCK WITH ME

-this whole "owl or cat or toad" thing clearly isn't even all that enforced if multiple weasley generations can get away with scabbers

-how does everyone already know about harry's scar? like, who told everyone?

-don't fucking @ me he's my son and i love him

-i honestly kind of wonder about the differences in reading this as an american person vs. someone from the uk? because reading this the whole concept of houses was cool and unusual, but would it have really been that ~magical~ for someone who was used to the concept?

-"mandy brocklehurst" sounds like the mean girl from an early 00s teen movie

-i love that the wizarding world has jello

-ah, the days when taking a single house point was an apocalyptic event

-madam hooch is a Lesbian ™

-parvati patil: the founding member of the neville longbottom defense squad

-parvati patil: ALSO the first person to defend harry to mcgonagall

-parvati patil: severely underrated, y'all

-i love that professor mcgonagall is 100% willing to ignore the rules if quidditch is involved

-as a former lonely smart child, hermione is so relatable

-i absolutely forgot neville was involved the first time they found fluffy. SORRY NEVILLE

-"so I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking rules?" ...hermione is my dad here, RULES ARE RULES GUYS

-they should at least modify the bludgers so they're less dangerous when you've got eleven year olds playing

-do brits really call baked potatoes jacket potatoes that's the funniest goddamn thing i've ever heard

-just let a bunch of live bats loose in the cafeteria, no way that'll cause a problem

-"harry then did something that was both very brave and very stupid" and continued doing so for seven books, i love my son

-oh my god this book stops for two pages for "newt scamander's guide to trolls"

-"Inside a troll's mind: Food, violence, kittens, nose-picking, keep thinking it's tuesday"

-this book's hermione has hair that's almost IDENTICAL to my hair as a child

-hermione may be unwilling to believe that snape is a bad guy but she sure does zero right in on him at the quidditch match

-fred and george repeatedly hit voldemort in the face with snowballs while he couldn't do anything about it

-what's wizard church like? they celebrate christmas, surely some of them go to church. is there a wizard pope?

-i love that ron is good at chess even if he isn't traditionally book smart

-this picture of harry and dumbledore sitting on the floor in their pajamas in front of the mirror of erised is so cute and almost heartbreaking when you consider the future

-i know dumbledore is basically Grey Morality: The Musical, but i really do love him

-"harry found that he had fewer nightmares when he was tired out after training" oh no harry you're too small for this sadness

-look if you're letting literal children play a sport that makes them genuinely worry about dying, then there's a PROBLEM THERE

-"i'm worth twelve of you, malfoy"

-hermione hugs parvati, bless

-let hermione granger have more female friends

-that's, uh, something i'm probably gonna hit on a lot in these

-"wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life" oh, you sweet summer child

-i had to pause to look up how often the illustrated editions will be coming out because they're beautiful and i want them all

-it looks like once a year in october

-"four students out of bed in one night! i've never heard of such a thing before!" sure jan

-it's understandable for people to be pissed at harry for losing all these points the first time, but after five years of him being disliked for some reason and then vindicated in the end, you think they'd learn

-malfoy's got a point, this probably isn't something they should have students doing

-MARS IS BRIGHT TONIGHT

-”If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there, it's only dying a bit later than I would have, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me!” i love him so much i want to cry

-"oh come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

-and i cry and my tears are golden trio feelings

-"But if we get caught, you two will be expelled, too." "Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that." bless you hermione

-NEVILLE MY DARLING SON

-YOU'RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE

-ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT

-also i really like that bit, mostly because, okay, Hermione's been learning about magic for a year, but that's stacked against eleven years of not defaulting to magic, that's probably a difficult instinct to change

-when i was maybe ten or eleven, i had a harry potter birthday, and my mom went full Artist on it, it was the coolest thing ever, but a special shoutout to the old antique keys she bought and glued feathers to and then hung from our ceiling fan

-i'm so proud of you and your chess skills, ron

-but holy shit they didn't even go over to check on him after, they just KEPT GOING

-which like, fair, it's a race against quirrel at this point, but DUDES. U GOTTA WATCH OUT FOR CONCUSSIONS.

-look, there's no way around it. a bunch of magically talented professors got beat by three eleven year olds.

-"it wasn't the snitch at all. it was a pair of glasses. how strange." harry is either way too chill or has no chill at all, there's no middle ground

-hagrid's scrapbook is the most precious thing

-when i was five reading this for the first time i was so pumped about gryffindor winning the house cup. i am less pumped as an adult, he could've awarded those points BEFORE the decorations were up, dude, where's the cutoff?

-ANYWAY this was so good, i remember back when when i first read these i would read a passage, leave the book in my room, run downstairs and recite an entire page at my mother before running back up to finish it

-those were the days

-this is the greatest book

-NEXT UP CHAMBER OF SECRETS, in which i will most likely be reading from my original waterlogged copy

[avanneman]

Can trade wars today lead to shooting wars tomorrow? With Donald Trump in charge, we may not have to wait!

It’s true: Donald Trump is getting awfully bored. The whole Mueller thing, which looked like it was going to be so much fun, has gone flatter than that liter bottle of malt liquor you opened last night and forgot to finish. Where’s the sparkle? Where’s the punch?

I got up this morning planning to start in on a long, and surely very learned, article responding to a slew of pieces, short and long, by the WashPost’s Dan Drezner, encapsulated by Dan in new post, snappily titled “The most apocalyptic article I have ever written”, in which Dan gives us a jargony but serious warning, “If the great powers start segmenting their economic exchange [reducing their trade], it’s a sign that they see conflict down the road,” citing disturbing similarities between the current state of affairs and the unfortunate series of events leading to World War I.

Well, I wanted to argue with Dan—I don’t know exactly how I would have differed with him, though surely I would have found a way1—if Donald Trump hadn’t lapped the both of us by labeling Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps as a foreign terrorist organization, an absolutely terrible, and highly dangerous, decision, as the American Conservative’s Daniel Larison, painfully prescient as usual, explains—virtually guaranteeing that it will be impossible for the U.S. and Iran to have anything resembling “normal” relations. In fact, it will be difficult for us to have peaceful ones, according to Dan:

There is an obvious danger that this decision could lead to armed conflict between U.S. forces and Iranian-backed militias and proxies, but the designation could have other unexpected consequences that go beyond U.S.-Iranian relations. The precedent set by labeling part of another government’s military as terrorists not only makes it more likely that our military personnel will be subjected to similar treatment, but it also blurs the definition of what constitutes a terrorist organization. Labeling the entire IRGC as a terrorist organization is inaccurate and it continues a trend of using the label of terrorist to mean “something that we don’t like and want to punish.” The Iranian conscripts who are required to serve in the IRGC are obviously not terrorists according to any sane definition of the word, but this designation means that the U.S. will now treat them as if they are. The Trump administration keeps finding new and irresponsible ways to drive the regime and the people together and to make conflict between the U.S. and Iran more likely. U.S.-Iranian tensions are now set to increase with no clear path for de-escalation.

This brutal and entirely unwarranted harassment of another country (which of course presents no threat to us whatsoever) comes on the heels of Trump’s extended shitfit directed at Mexico. Our president obviously wished that he could inflict some “real” rather than rhetorical damage on one of our most important economic partners, but, to his great and obvious disappointment, this grotesque nonsense so offended the Republican donor class that even Mitch McConnell told our maximum leader to stuff it. Trump’s response to was to return to, and amplify, the most vicious rhetoric of his campaign, accusing Mexico of being the author of all our woes, sending us both rapists and drugs. Unsurprisingly, he demanded the resignation of the Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen, because someone had to pay for his own stupidity, incompetence, and moral depravity. Over at Vox, Dara Lind explains exactly how big, and how vicious, an idiot Trump is being over the whole matter of immigration (hat tip to Reason’s Elizabeth Nolan Brown for leading me to Dara).

So, yeah, Dan Drezner, I definitely want to mix it up regarding the causes of World War I and, you know, today, but I’m afraid our “great debate” is very much in danger of being mooted. With the damn Democrats in control of the damn House of Representatives, and that damn Alexandra Ocasio-Who-Da-Fuck getting all his press, what’s a Donald to do but start a war?

For the benefit of the one person who might be so bored as to click on this link, the third post on this list, “Daniel Drezner, harrumphing audibly” is a very extended semi-takedown of one of Dan’s mentors, the late Robert Gilpin, and the fourth (“Dan Drezner is shocked …”) is largely though not entirely based on a misreading of Dan’s actual post. ↩︎