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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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hellyeahheroes · 4 years ago

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Robin(2021) #1 Review

Opening this comic with an assessment of a character that I have no choice but to agree with is a cheap way to score points with me.

Anyways, we caught heat for being unfair to this story since it was announced because all of us wanted it to be a Cass story since forever. And it became yet another thing Damian absorbs. I mostly ignored it because I’ve always been open about my disdain for the character and his fandom for nearly a decade. I never liked Damian because put these characteristics on a non-white passing character, they’d be dead inside of year. Then again I hate almost all of Grant Morrison monstrosities.

Regardless, new story who dis is in full effect here. We open this bad boy up with Damian gone missing and the Batfamily searching for him. Nightwing tried asking Damian’s old Teen Titans team and they obviously don’t know and probably hope Damian is dead. Tim checked Arkham Ruins(???) and Damian wasn’t there. I honestly don’t think Tim was trying to find Damian. Steph and Cass checked Damian’s farm and Steph concluded Damian has been there at least because while Damian may be a little shit, he loves his dog and pet bat dragon. Barbara checked facial recognition pings and his transactions and dude is an IRS nightmare.

Damian is missing. Bruce is worried that maybe making a violent murderous preteen Robin raised in a cabal of killers to be chief murderer was a bad idea and is worried. Barbara ensures him that they will find his son and we cut to Damian fighting Snake guy in some musty ass fight put somewhere. Because of course it’s a musty ass fight pit because while the story is well drawn, it never claimed to be not cliche.

Damian hands the scrub his ass and it turns out Damian is trying to earn a marker to participate in some tournament. I liked this panel.

Not because of the artist flex of changing the art style, but it establishes Damian with a relatable hobby, reading manga. And not just a Shounen as you expect him to read but a slice of life manga which kind of puts his life in perspective. Also the lesson in the manga is reflective of what happens in the comic. Damian’s mastery is reflective of how he sees Hana. Hana decides to go beyond what her masters taught her. She decides to innovate and make her art her own. And that’s indicative of another flaw of Damian: Damian leans of the prestige of his teachers. He is the student that replicates the style 1:1. He wants to inherit Batman’s mantle, but doesn’t want to shed his teachings that he is proud of. And it comes down to this idea that Damian refuses to innovate and adapt because he is hiding behind his masters.

This panel saved the story so good job.

And after a talk with dead Alfred, it’s revealed that Damian is on this journey as a way to mirror Bruce’s journey into becoming Batman. It’s his way to iron his resolve without a catalyst to find a need to. It highlights his naïveté. He thinks that he can just simply copy the steps and get the same results.

Regardless what happens next simultaneously undermines the story or the impact of it.

Okay, when you think of Martial artists in DC, you immediately think Batman, Shiva, Deathstroke, Black Canary, Bronze Tiger, Richard Dragon, and Shiva. Why I said Shiva twice? Because Shiva is the pinnacle.

So to reveal that three premier martial artists in the universe are not only not participating but they were paid off to not participate, cheated out, or were subbed in as an entry replacement, it undermines the promotion. It’s like going to a Beyonce Concert only to find out that between the words in small print Beyonce and Concert was ‘s Sister’s and now you are watching Grammy award winning Solange. Sure, it’s an unique experience but it ain’t Beyonce.

And also, there is no amount in the world that would keep Shiva away from this tournament if it’s as prestigious as it’s led to be. Let’s be real. If anything, it’s far more likely that she saw the roster of scrubs and decided to make some scratch.

There are two characters that I recognize: Connor Hawke and Rose Wilson. I am not familiar with Connor so I am not sure if he is out of place. Rose is fine but y’know, scrub. I’m sorry Rose Wilson got her ass handed to her by Cass in the previous universe. There is no universe where I take her seriously in a fighting tournament to crown greatest fighter because the ass stomp was so thorough that Cass was beating Slade’s ego by proxy.

Back to the comic, Damian interrupts the host and basically is the fighting tournament trope of overly confident disrespectful guy with too many accolades which he will proudly tell you about them. What I like about this is the nice nod to the previous manga panel. Damian is not a great fighter. There I said it. Damian’s ability hinges on the idea that he was trained by the greatest killers and Batman but the issue is that name prestige doesn’t make great fighters. Too many times, comic books overly rely on this idea of fighting being a what you know and not being a game of not getting hit and getting hits in. It does not matter if Damian is trained by the League and Batman and it’s questionable as to how much Batman taught him in the first place. Hence why we see Damian with a sword or staff to compliment his lack of range. Damian can’t read muscle twitches like a Cass or Shiva so he has a normal reactive response and comics never highlighted his ability. The most impressive thing I’ve seen Damian do is catch a Batarang which is something I’ve seen Tim do. Damian overly relies on the idea that his teachers taught him to be the best when they simply taught him to survive in a fight.

“But why does Cass get away with it?,” you ask. Cass has this broken hax that is reading muscle twitch and immediately knowing the instant of what you are going to do before you do it or decide to do. Cass doesn’t need range because to her, you are screaming your intentions. She doesn’t need to block an attack when she can just parry. She doesn’t need to step back when she can just step forward while slipping all attacks. She is an autistic savant at fighting with an absolute defense. Damian is just another badass teen in a world of badass adults.

And the humbling of Damian begins...again.

Pros:

-Damian’s new costume. I like that he is branching out and starting to own his own colors. It’s nice.

-Using a character flaw to make it a theme. I like Chekhov’s gun via teachable moment. In tournament arcs, what separates the good ones and the bad ones is the idea that the hero simply must overcome their opponents and not their own self. This is why Yuyu Hakusho is awesome.

- Great art and nice continuity. It’s nice that Damian’s past wasn’t ignored for once and they didn’t just throw his Teen Titans characterization down the tubes. Say what you want, but it was arguably Damian’s longest run in spite of his fans hating it. And contrary to what they believe, it was very much in character for him. My fear going into this that Damian would not face any fallout and lo and behold he ran away.

- it’s a good start for a Damian story. Say what you want, but it’s unique in that the little shit gets his comeuppance immediately. And not that just by losing, but by dying. Damian has killed before and readily justifies it because he never realizes the weight of taking someone’s life. He’s been killed before but those were painted in a way that he is valiant. Here, this is death caused by his own arrogance. He mocks a fighter for talking shit and gets murked while talking shit. He spouts names of his own teachers and expects people to care or be weary as if Rose Wilson and Connor aren’t there. It’s a tournament sponsored by the League of Assassins, Damian. They have been taught by the league too.

Cons:

-Look I get promotion. No promoter is going to undermine their product but the fact that this tournament reeks like ABA is killing my interest to give a shit. It’s a convenient caveat to say that, “Well, a character won this so they can have the title but the title doesn’t mean anything.” I know of regardless of whom wins this, they aren’t the best. Go ham or don’t at all.

-not enough emphasis of the importance of this arc. Why even have this tournament? What’s the prize? What’s even the point?

-While the art is nice, the action is framed poorly. I like physical action like this to be nearly choreographed in a way I can see and piece movement in my head. The two fight scenes we get are somewhat disjointed in that it’s just poses. For example, Flatline’s first kick makes no sense at all and I don’t get her follow up. Trying to picture the movement hurts my head and in an action concept like this, it’s best to frame action scenes as more than doing poses. Here is a good example:

This only emphasizes the action and gets the reader to acknowledge that this a tournament of great fighters or at least a great fighting story.

All in all, do I think this story is off to a good start? Yes. Is it going to change my opinion on Damian? Hell no. My reaction to Damian getting his ass handed to him was this.

The issue is that it never sticks. Damian can learn and be a better person but the development never sticks. It becomes a cyclical series of events because whoever writes him next will just keep writing him as this shitty entitled murder rich kid who never learns anything and gets validated somehow. It’s been over a decade and I’m tired of the same excuses of his shitty behavior. I am tired of writers validating it or excusing it.

Damian losing isn’t an outcome I care for because it’s wasted on him. Honestly I am more interested in Connor and Rose being there. I have no faith that it will stick nor does it undo the shitty idea of the character. I have never wanted to see Damian fight. It’s never been fun to read about nor has the impetus of his character emphasized the ability or style. Placing Damian in an Enter the Dragon style tournament lacks the pizzazz of Cass doing the same thing. For example, let’s try Marvel.

Let’s say someone pitches an idea of a tournament arc styled after Game of Death. Immediately you think Martial Artists non-powered. Danny Rand, Daredevil, Elektra, Shang-Chi, Pei and Colleen Wing. Okay, instead of giving those characters the honor, you give the story to Black Cat. Honestly, I’d read it because Felicia could sell me a documentary on grass and I’d buy it but the point stands, why does Damian have this Bruce Lee inspired Martial Arts story versus the actual Chinese or East Asian Martial Arts focused member of the Batfamily, Cassandra Cain?

But this has nothing to do with what could have been. It’s a fun beginning of a possibly fun arc. In that regard, it delivers but what’s the point?

Like I said, fun story.

@ubernegro

#dc #robin #damian wayne #batman and robin #batman #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #batgirl #barbara gordon #oracle #dick grayson #batfamily

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broughttoyoubytheletterf · 4 years ago

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Telling the Family (ficlet)

At one time I was going to write an entire series of how different people react to finding out Elizabeth is running for President but this is the only one I ever finished. I’m cleaning out old files, so here have it.

“You have to talk to your family you know.”

“Hmmm?” Henry continues to keep his eyes on the book in front of him.

Elizabeth plops down on the other side of the bed, disturbing Henry and causing him to give her an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you should have a conversation with them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The campaign,” she responds simply. She settles into bed, pulling the covers up to her waist and grabbing a policy book from the floor.

He stares at her, agape, “Really? You’re just going to throw that out there and leave it to me? Isn’t it a little early to tell them anyway?”

She avoids his gaze and flips open the binder. “Give them some time to process everything, you know Maureen will have thoughts she needs to share. Plus, it’s going to be an invasion of their privacy as well.”

He huffs. “Well shouldn’t you be there when we talk to them then?”

“No.”

When she doesn’t elaborate further, he tugs her reading material out of her hands. “You’re telling me that you’re ready to face the scrutiny of the entire country but you won’t come with me to talk my family.”

“Yes,” she says blithely. She looks thoughtful, “What do you think the chances are that Maureen votes for me?”

He laughs. “Eh, I’d say about 75%, she’s mellowed out a bit since Dad died. So there you go, another reason to come with me, get some experience stumping for votes with intransigent constituents.”

Mulishly she says, “I don’t wanna.”

“Petulant isn’t a good look on you Elizabeth.”

She side-eyes him. “I’m not being petulant, I’m being realistic, I think the chances are better that she votes for me if I’m not there. Also, you’re lying, you like all my looks.” She laughs and straddles his lap.

He grips her waist and smiles. “You’re right.” He leans forward and blows a raspberry on her neck. “But you are coming with me.”

Two weeks later she is sitting on a couch next to Henry at Maureen’s house. She is bouncing Maria on her knees and the four-year old is squealing in delight. She still doesn’t know how Henry conned her into coming and got it to actually happen. She’s dealing with no less than three separate international incidents that could spiral into crises at any moment, but Henry hadn’t let her use that as an excuse. She’s dragged half the State department with her it feels like, Jay is in DC holding down the fort but she has Blake, Kat, Nina, and Daisy in the motorcade out front and Matt is down the street at a coffee shop feverishly writing a speech.

Henry is tapping his feet next to her. He had been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive here, though that could have been because she spent most of the time on the phone, doing her best to restrain herself from yelling at her entire Bureau of East Asian Affairs. She’s not usually a yeller, so maybe Henry is not the only one nervous about this conversation.

Maureen comes back into the room, balancing a tray of glasses. “I have coffee for everyone, but I’m afraid I only have regular creamer, none of that flavored stuff.” She looks pointedly at Elizabeth as she sets her load down. Elizabeth barely keeps herself from rolling her eyes, she asked for vanilla creamer once, a decade ago, and Maureen still likes to act like it was the height of privilege. The child on her lap is getting restless, so she puts her down and she runs off to play.

After everyone is settled into their seats with their drinks of choice, Maureen breaks the now heavy silence. “So is there a particular reason you gathered us all here? Is one of you dying or do you just like to see your subjects scurry?”

Elizabeth lets out a breath, clearly Maureen is feeling particularly intractable, which does not bode well for this discussion, but she also knows that the other woman mostly gets that way when she’s scared. She responds quickly, “Both of us are fine, as are the kids, they send their love by the way.” It’s almost imperceptible, but Maureen relaxes. “The reason you wanted to talk to everyone, all at once, is because…” she rehearsed twelve different was to say this but she still feels unprepared. Henry reaches over and squeezes her hand.

As if saved by the bell she hears the front door open, and when she looks over Kat and Blake are standing there, wringing their hands. She looks at them expectantly. Kat grimaces, “Apologies all for interrupting,” she focuses her attention on Elizabeth, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we just heard back from Chen’s office, he says they’re moving forward with their plans, immediately, they’ve already started..”

Elizabeth interrupts, her face turns murderous, “Get me Chen on SVTC now.” She might yell that last word. She stands up, “I swear, China is going to be begging us to sell Taiwan drones by the time I lay out the alternatives, which reminds me, Blake let Russell know I am 100% behind repositioning the fifth fleet, maybe some military posturing is just what we need, remind them that we have our own array of antiship missiles and that they do not want to get into a damn shooting war with us. Especially over some fucking drones.” She stalks over to the doorway. Kat looks taken aback, Elizabeth rarely curses at work, or ever. She doesn’t even want to look back and see what Henry’s family looks like.

She purposefully softens her tone, though she feels like preventing World War III, for the fifth time this year, merits some coarse language. She gestures towards Blake who is already on the phone, “Tell Russell I think Conrad should call Li. Ask if he wants me on the call.” Blake nods. “And I swear if this is the Assistant Secretary’s fault again, I’m firing her, I don’t care whose niece she is.” She slams the front door behind her.

Henry stares at the closed door for a moment, and sends up a quick prayer for peace, both for the world and in his family. He turns back towards his family, who look a little aghast. He’s not surprised, Elizabeth has done her best to not talk about work around them, and she definitely never lets her temper show like that. He smiles in what he hopes is a disarming way. “So, that might take a bit, so why don’t we talk about something else? Shane, how’s the new job going?”

Shane starts to respond, but Maureen stops him, “I’m not going to wait around while Elizabeth is off starting wars, so just tell us whatever it is you wanted to tell us Henry and then you can both gallivant back to DC.” Maureen’s husband squeezes her shoulder in support and Erin and Shane are purposefully avoiding his gaze so he imagines that he isn’t going to be able to put this off until Elizabeth gets back.

“This is really more her thing than mine, so it would be best if she could tell you.” Maureen glares at him. “Okay, okay, we just wanted to talk to you guys about some changes in our life, changes that might effect you, though we’ll do our best to prevent that.” They all shift nervously. “Well you’ve probably heard the rumors and speculation, but we wanted to let you know it’s true, Elizabeth has decided to run. She won’t be announcing for a while yet, we’re thinking in about four months, but we wanted to let you know now.”

They stare at him blankly, until Erin asks, uncertainty in her voice, “Run for what?”

He almost laughs, because he forgot for a moment that there is a whole world that doesn’t follow politics obsessively, that doesn’t spend every second enmeshed in world affairs. “President,” he responds simply.

That sends them all atwitter and there’s lots of cross-talk and yelling and accusations. He spends the next 45 minutes fielding questions, from Elizabeth’s position on abortion (he tells them they’ll have to ask her, he’s well aware his wife is ardently pro-choice, but he’s not stepping on that landmine before it’s necessary) to, once the kids wander back in, whether that means they can get free tickets to football games.

Elizabeth slips back in, she looks marginally more relaxed, so he takes that to mean there are no nuclear missiles currently incoming. Maureen spots her first and pins her with a glare. “So I hear you’ve decided you want to be an actual queen.”

Elizabeth moves further into the house and resumes her seat on the couch next to Henry. “Well democratically elected is the plan,” she says lightly and reaches forward to grab her now cold coffee. Maureen guffaws. “And really that’s only if I win, which is still a relative long-shot.”

“Once again you’re only thinking of yourself.�� Oddly, Henry notes, Maureen’s voice doesn’t have its usual venom.

Elizabeth takes a sip out of her cup. “I like to think I’m thinking of the greater good, how to ensure a better future for our country and the world. Believe you me this isn’t something I sought out, I never thought I’d do this.” Henry struggles to hide his smile, because Elizabeth sounds exactly like a politician, she doesn’t think she’s ready, but in moments like this he sees it. And if he calls her a politician to her face he won’t have sex for a month.

#Madam Secretary #Elizabeth McCord #fic #ficlet #i don't know #feeling some sort of way tonight so you get this #i was going to write one for a lot of side characters #ray merchant #jareth #juliet #craig sterling #etc etc #but i could never get it off the ground

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365days365movies · 3 years ago

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Historical July II: Spartacus (1960) - Part 2

Well, since this is Historical July...let’s talk history.

The year is 73 BC! A group of up and coming gladiators are plotting their escape from a ludus, or gladiatorial school. At the time, gladiators were often slaves, forcefully brought into service and trained to become a skilled fighter in the arena. Sometimes, these were captives taken during a skirmish, and other times they were simply rebellious or otherwise notable slaves.

However, one of these gladiators is a bit different. Some say that he’s simply a former slave from the region of Thrace. Others say that he was once a mercenary, who had grown up a slave and eventually become a Roman soldier, only to desert them and return to slavery. Either way, this Thracian man was known as Spartacus. And he was unsatisfied with his position in life.

The owner of the school is one Lentulus Batiatus, a man otherwise little known to history. He owned the ludus, located in Capua, just north of the great city of Naples. He presided over the school and its captives, and was likely there when the rebellion began. About 70 gladiators, Spartacus included, grabbed kitchen utensils and fought their way out of the school, grabbing weapons and armor along the way. Pro-tip for you ludus owvers out there: don’t let the trained fighters use fucking knives, and LOCK UP YOUR SHIT.

Now free, they rampaged throughout Capua, plundering as they went along and bringing more slaves into their growing force. Spartacus led, alongside Gallic slaves Crixus and Oenomaus, and thus began the Third Servile War. And yes, I SAID THIRD. Understand this: there are many rules of human history, immortal and immutable. And one of those rules is:

Slavery. Fucking. Sucks.

Yeah, it’s a staple of history that slavery is an immoral, reprehensible, and shameful practice...that fuckin’ EVERYBODY has done at some point in history. Yeah, some of the most talked about form of the institution is the American enslavement of African and Black Americans (which I’ll get to...eventually), but every major civilization has been built on the backs of slaves. And that’s not even saying that slavery is purely a thing of the past...but I digress. Back to the Servile Wars.

Yeah, one of the multiple slave rebellions throughout history, the Servile Wars were a series of slave rebellions against the Roman Republic, taking place from 135 to 71 BC. There were three of these, with the last taking place in Italy, and led by Spartacus and his posse. After their raids, they camped on top of Mount Vesuvius. Yeah. THAT Mount Vesuvius.

Meanwhile, in Rome, they’re kinda freaking out. See, their armies are, like...GONE. Rome LOVED it some war, and they were fighting two separate ones at the exact same time! Tey didn’t really take this one that seriously, and lemme tell ya...they may have wanted to. They had one of their battalions COMPLETELY fucked by Spartacus and his boys, and they JUST. KEPT. WINNING. Spartacus was a great leader and tactician, and they used the resources they had very effectively throughout. However, soon enough, Rome started to take them a little more seriously.

Enter Marcus Licinius Crassus. Yup, he’s real too. As is Glabrus, but his fate...we’ll get to his fate. Crassus was the richest man in Rome, and he volunteered to end the rebellion with eight legions under his command. Which is a loooooot. He was a cruel general, and a terrifying taskmaster, and in 71 DC, he got his troops to surround Spartacus and his army. And how did it go? Well, I won’t spoil the film, because it’s actually surprisingly accurate! Yeah! Missing some details, but it’s not a bad job. However...the ending of this film is technically not true, as far as we know. Additionally, there’s no proof that Varinia existed, and there’s also one very specific sequence that probably never happened...and it’s the most iconic scene of the movie. But we’ll get to that. For now, let’s rejoin our people, as they’re presented with one specific problem:

Part One is right here!

Recap (2/2)

The idyllic peace is broken by the arrival of Cilician pirate envoy Tigrantes Levantus (Herbert Lom), who makes a deal with Spartacus to procure the ships for their transit and escape from Italy. Learning now that Rome is sending battalions against the army, he doesn’t have much faith in the army. However, the Romans are underestimating the slave army, and really aren’t taking the whole thing seriously. Definitely a good tactical move, there.

Spartacus agrees, and sends his troops to take out the camp, which is not surrounded by stockades, and therefore unprotected. It’s a rousing success, and the entire garrison is caught completely FUCKED! Glabrus is caught and humiliated by Spartacus, to allows him to go back to Rome and tell them that their only demands are freedom to leave the country. Goddamn, they seriously SPANK the dude.

And then...intermission. Oh. I, uh...I did not time these two parts well, huh? Well, whatever. Movie’s over halfway done at this point. Plus, gives me some time to appreciate the score. It’s composed by Alex North, who’s best known for A Streetcar Named Desire, and for my next movie this month. It’s bumping, honestly, especially during the intermission! Honestly, Imma give this music a 9/10 now, just to save the suspense.

Oh, we’re back. OK, Glabrus delivers the message to the Senate, noting their plan. Crassus also vaguely recognizes the name Spartacus, but can’t recall why. Hell, Glabrus doesn’t recognize him at all, which just shows how little the elite care at all about slaves and gladiators. He notes that they weren’t prepared for an ambush at night, or at all, because after all...they’re only slaves. Glabrus’ dumbass actions cause him to be banished from Rome entirely, and by his sponsor, Crassus! Disgraced in turn by the death of six divisions of the army (like I said, SPANKED), Crassus resigns from the Senate in shame. Humiliated by Glabrus, Spartacus, and Gracchus in a scathing rebuke, Crassus leaves to plot further from the shadows. Damn.

Meanwhile, things couldn’t be going better for Spartacus, as Varinia’s pregnant, and the army’s growing and successful. And here I am, waiting for the shoe to completely fucking DROP. ‘Cause let’s face it: when it drops, it’s gonna drop fuckin’ HARD. But for now, all shoes are...levitating? Worn? What are shoes before they’re dropped, anyway?

The Senate’s now stressed out. Rome’s stretched thin by two wars, pirates have cut off their grain supply, the people are starving, and THEN there’s fuckin’ Spartacus! After confirming that nobody Gaius as the leader of the garrison (replacing Glabrus), they decide on intercepting the rebellion at the city of Metapontum. But it’s too late, as the Rebellion appears to have taken out the city, its nobles, and the intercepting Roman Legion army, because Spartacus can’t fucking LOSE right now! I smell a end-of-second-act conflict coming on, though. Those suspicions of mine mount, as that nobody Gaius is approached by Crassus in a Roman bathhouse, who tries to woo him like the Emperor wooed Anakin.

However, Gracchus...actually, hold up a sec, I just realized something. Is Star Wars basically just Rome? Seriously, The Republic is led by a Senate, until giving way to an Empire ruled by an Emperor. It’s...IT’S FUCKING ROME HOW DID I NEVER REALIZE THIS

...AH, Gracchus, right. Gaius and Crassus go to Gracchus, who’s also in the bathhouse, and Crassus easily convinces him to relinquish command of the Roman army. Makes sense, as Spartacus is too powerful, Gaius is a newbie nobody, and Crassus is a decorated and celebrated general. Gaius gladly relinquishes command, and the victorious Crassus leaves.

However, it won’t matter much. Gracchus has actually been working WITH the pirates, and bribed them with money to safely take Spartacus and the slave army out of Italy. And Gaius...Gaius don’t like that shit. He’s from nobility, and is an honorable man who dislikes the tactics of bribery. I mean, Gaius might be a nobody, but he’s not completely without influence. Looks like Anakin’s about to betray the Republic.

Meanwhile, Spartacus is greeted by Tigrantes, who reveals that the Cilicians decided to take the fuck off, abandoning Spartacus and his army entirely. But why? Crassus. With a counter-bribe of his own, Crassus convinced the pirates to take the fuck off, leaving the rebellion behind as two Roman generals approach from the coast. That forces the rebellion to march away from the sea, and against Rome and Crassus’ army. Which is...an absolutely brilliant play, goddamn.

Now absolutely fucked, Spartacus decides to make a speech of his own. Meanwhile, in Rome, Crassus is given emergency power due to the crisis. And also meanwhile, I have to try SUPER HARD not to make fuckin’ Star Wars parallels, holy shit. Anyway, while Crassus ensures Rome that he’ll catch and kill Spartacus, Spartacus tells his own countrypeople that they march to Rome, likely towards death. And they go with him, because Spartacus rules.

As the armies march, this is a great time to point out that Kirk Douglas and Laurence Olivier are fucking FANTASTIC in this movie. I mean, no surprise that two of the greatest actors that ever lived acted greatly here, but they are seriously stellar. And hell, there’s still an hour left, but I kinda wanna give this a 9/10 already!

Crassus, hellbent to get Spartacus’ ass (and the ass of his legend), even outmaneuvers Spartacus by changing up battle plans at the last second, and by forcing the other two generals at the coast to do the same. Dude is a BRILLIANT TACTICIAN, and it really shows. But he’s not...perfect.

See, just then, Batiatus shows up, summoned by Crassus to give a description of Spartacus. To his absolute shock, he realizes exactly who Spartacus was, but doesn’t even slightly remember what he looked like. Like a proper dick. But ALSO like a proper dick, Batiatus decides to barter the information of Spartacus’ appearance for the role of salesman for the survivors from the battle. Crassus agrees, but at the cost of Batiatus’ freedom for the moment.

Spartacus looks over his people, as they set up camp for the night in preparation for the coming battle. Nervous about this, and nervous to leave his wife and child (oh, they got married, by the way), he says goodbye, and prays that his child will be free one day. Also, I gotta say, I admire Spartacus’ vulnerability here. I mean, yeah, there’s some simp energy here, but I fucking ship it. His genuine emotions really speak to how much he loves Varinia. It’s sweet.

But enough of that romantic folderol. It’s time for war, as the two armies meet on the battlefield. The Roman army shows off their famous formations, while the Rebellion is in a solid block. And something tells me that this is going to go...very badly. On the bright side, though, this sequence shows off some fantastic cinematography and direction. There's a lot more movie left, but I’m giving direction by Kubrick and cinematography by Russell Metty a 9/10, for fucking sure.

The Rebellion’s not ENTIRELY unprepared, though, as they use flaming barricades steamrollers (YES REALLY) to fend off the army. It’s...well, it’s literally fucking lit. And I will see myself out.

Well, not yet, because the battle’s raging. And yeah, it’s a battle. And HOLY SHIT, it’s bloodier than you’d think! Spartacus just, like, CHOPS OFF A DUDE’S ARM, at blink-and-you’ll-miss speed. By the end, the field is stained with blood of Romans and slaves, but definitely mostly the rebels. It’s a massacre, and an absolute disaster for Spartacus and the Rebellion.

The survivors, Spartacus and Antoninus included, are rounded up and chained, to be returned into slavery. Their lives will be spared of crucifixion and death...but only if Spartacus’ body is found, or if he gives himself up to the Romans. And if you know anything about this movie...well...

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Epic. And absolutely one of the most famous scenes in film history. And funny thing here, I always thought this was the end of the film. But not quite. With this act, all of the survivors have doomed themselves to crucifixion (which FUCKS over Batiatus). All, of course, but Varinia, who has given birth to their son. Crassus orders her and the child to come with him. He also kicks Batiatus out of camp, to be flogged on the way out.

He also sees the still alive Antoninus, and quickly condemns him to crucixion. As he stands with Spartacus, Crassus suspiciously holds their crucifixions until last. And in case you’re wondering if the rebels get out of this somehow...they don’t. And we see their crucifixions, which stretch down the entire road to Rome.

In Rome, Gracchus and Batiatus meet once again, with a newly whipped Batiatus having learned humility and dignity from his affair. Both are still hellbent on revenge against the arrogant Crassus, and plot to take Varinia away from him. Just then, that nobody Gaius shows up at Gracchus’ place, but no longer as his protege. Instead, he’s joined the side of Crassus, and has come to take Gracchus to meet with Crassus. Crassus has now taken full control on the Republic, and exiles Gracchus from the city, after he’s spoken to his followers that may turn against the state, and against Crassus. Gracchus is forced to submit, and Crassus notes that the slaves remaining alive at the end of the road will be pit against each other...as gladiators. Oh boy.

Back at his place, Varinia is primped and preened as Crassus’ new consort, slave, and prisoner. God, it’s creepy as fuck. What’s made even worse is that he’s now pining over Varinia, asking for her mutual love. Y’know, almost like she isn’t his literal property, or like he didn’t kill her husband, OR like he didn’t LITERALLY JUST threaten her and Spartacus’ child with death. Idiot. Still, Crassus doesn’t get overly abusive, and he’s mostly patient with Varinia. He instead asks what kind of man Spartacus was. She tells him truthfully, and THAT is what riles Crassus up so. Not understanding why she would love a low-born slave, murderer, and thief, he confronts her on it. And that’s when she CORRECTLY notes that he’s actually afraid of Spartacus, and only wants Varinia because he had her. Dude has a sloppy seconds fetish. OK then.

Waiting to die, Antoninus and Spartacus wonder if they could’ve won. But of course, it no longer matters. The rebellion is dead, and the war is lost. Spartacus also believes that Varinia and his child are dead as well, and it’s also then that they realize that they’re the only two slaves left of the entire rebellion. Damn.

As they wonder if they fear death, Crassus shows up to greet the two of them. He’s now realized who Spartacus is, and confronts him as such. This marks the first time the two speak to each other. Or, it would, if Spartacus was speaking. When he doesn’t reply, a frustrated Crassus slaps him, only to be spat on. Absolutely ENRAGED now, Crassus decides to make them fight NOW, with the winner set to be crucified.

Despite promising a public fight, as Gaius points out, Crassus insists upon it happening now. And so, they fight, with Antoninus determined not to let Spartacus be crucified. And this fight is tense as hell...until Spartacus kills Antoninus to spare him. They declare their love for each other, as a father and son love each other. And Antoninus dies. Holy shit, man. This fucking blows.

Crassus, savoring his victory, then gloats about the fact that Varinia is alive, and his slave. Which is definitely the smart thing to say to him right now. But Spartacus is done, and is led off to be crucified. Crassus orders his body burned, and for no one to know who he was. Because after all...he’s still afraid of Spartacus. More so even than Gaius. But why Gaius? Dude’s a nobody! Who the hell is Gaius Julius Caesar and there it is. Fuck me.

But Crassus hasn’t won yet. With Batiatus’ help, Varinia is smuggled away from Crassus, and the two head to Aquitania for safe harbor. Varinia is officially freed by Gracchus, who remains behind after paying Batiatus for his services. Varinia, grateful and tearful, kisses Gracchus goodbye. And Gracchus...Gracchus grabs a knife. I don’t like where that’s headed.

Batiatus and Varinia leave the city, and are briefly apprehended by guards. But, of course, crucified outside of the city is Spartacus, who’s still alive. The husband and wife see each other one last time, and she presents their son to him, teling him that he is free, as Spartacus had wanted. Varinia will tell their son of Spartacus, and pledges that he will die soon, so that he no longer suffers. And they leave, as Spartacus watches on, doomed to a horrible death.

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And that’s it. That tragic ending is THE ending. Holy fucking shit, this movie is goddamn stellar. Real talk, it’s definitely getting in the ‘90s score wise. Like...let’s see here...

Cast and Acting: 10/10. Yeah, really, this is a perfect cast.

Plot and Writing: 8/10. This was fine, but not perfect.

Directing and Cinematography: 9/10, unsurprisingly.

Production and Art Design: 10/10, also unsurprisingly.

Music and Editing: 9/10, as promised. Goddamn.

Yeah, that’s a 92%. Because this film was absolutely stellar.

A bit long, though. Still, I’ll elaborate on my feeling in an epilogue/review. Buuuuuuut, just in case you’re wondering, or if I don’t get that post out in time...here’s the next one coming down the pike. And if I guess correctly...I think that nobody Gaius is coming back in a big way for this one.

Next time: Cleopatra (1963), dir. Joseph Mankiewicz

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theunvanquishedzims · 3 years ago

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The Michigan Fleet authors posted their AUs so here are mine

theunvanquishedzims: I have SO MANY Boat Boy ideas but I'm sitting on them because I came up with a bunch halfway through the book and they got jossed by the end rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Uhhh, sorry? I think?? theunvanquishedzims: (i.e. Basil gets sad and weepy over Rich and Liam flirting at a party, Trimmer plays fairy godmother a la ripping half his shirt off, giving him a pep talk, and sending him back out there to Win Back His Man) rollerskatinglizard: *whooping* theunvanquishedzims: Jossed so hard rollerskatinglizard:Okay, that's DELIGHTFUL rollerskatinglizard: Trimmer is the most terrifying fairy godmother rollerskatinglizard: Anything else? :Dc theunvanquishedzims: Lemme get my notes rollerskatinglizard: *gleeful wiggling*

theunvanquishedzims: Okay so I stopped reading when the Sympatico grabbed Rich during the storm and it took me a month or so to get back and finish, so I was under the impression that the ship was still being fixed in drydock and not, y'know, actually being crewed and sailed. (Trimmer yelling "just let her sink" hits reeeeeaaaallly different when you know that) rollerskatinglizard: Ahaha oh dang theunvanquishedzims: So the big idea was the gangsters needing something from the Sympatico. Not the general thugs and delinquents crewing the Sympatico but the actual organized crime of the Fleet, who were getting pretty used to using ships like the Sympatico to run their dirty deeds through. Except it's basically impossible to get what they need out of it, even when they drag out one of the old IST guys. He finally tells them Rich was the one who did the heavy lifting for the past few years rollerskatinglizard: Ooooh! rollerskatinglizard: What an interesting idea! theunvanquishedzims: Hang on I need to restart rollerskatinglizard: Ah yes, computers theunvanquishedzims: Sorry, that turned into a dinner break and running errands During which I came up with a couple new AUs theunvanquishedzims: Okay, back to mafia: they track Rich down, probably snag him after he's been out boarding. Off work, not expected back on the ship, tired from all the exercise, etc. They're not overtly threatening, just pick up his skimmer and politely suggest that he comes help them, and he probably goes quietly because there's like, six of them. I'm thinking only one of whom was actually posted on the Sympatico theunvanquishedzims: So they get back to the Sympatico. She's been temporarily decommissioned until the Fleet can fix her broken processes, but that's also a cover story by the mob. They want to clear out all the smuggled goods and information, but she's basically a ghost ship, silent and empty, and even the other IST guy couldn't get more than a few blinking lights. She's sulking basically, she knows they're not there to fix her so she's digging in her heels and playing dead. Like a toddler going ragdoll when they don't want to go to bed. theunvanquishedzims: They explain to Rich that they can't get a response and want him to take a crack at it. "Has she said anything?" "Who?" "The Sympatico." "...we didn't talk to it." "Well that's half your problem right there." theunvanquishedzims: At this point you should watch Show Yourself from Frozen 2, and the crystal scene from Atlantis the Lost Empire. Stepping into the place you've been called, making your presence known, and having a greater power reach out for you. Shiny lights, chasing the spark of life to its source, and having the power consume and embody you. Rich is used to it but it's probably pretty freaky from the outside, and way less magical-looking than a Disney movie. Probably more like when Magneto activated the machine in the first X-Men movie. Step up, turn it on, and suddenly it's sucking the life out of you, making you a living battery theunvanquishedzims: In my head I am picturing the glowing blue eyes, lights cracking along the skin like lightning or circuit patterns, the implants glowing in his temples, standing at a terminal like a star trek deck, maybe a faint breeze-like movement of the hair and clothes to indicate the sheer power radiating off of him. In reality it's probably more like he falls down, gets up, stumbles along to a good spot out of the weather, and curls up in a secluded defensible spot to stare emptily at the wall for a few hours while lights randomly go on and off around the ship theunvanquishedzims: Just being trailed by six very wary mafia dudes who have probably never seen someone mind-meld a ship, and definitely not solo. He's like a zombie, and when he does talk it's very clear he's talking for the both of them theunvanquishedzims: If any of them are in sync with the ship they definitely feel the !!!Rich you're back!!! vibe theunvanquishedzims: No idea how that resolves, I guess it depends on how powerful the mafia is. If they're the kind of entrenched criminals who are ongoing characters, then they have Rich scrub out what they need then dump him back on his skimmer to face the fallout alone. He might report it to the spooks? Or at least try to tell Basil and Mitch theunvanquishedzims: If they're not recurring characters then they were definitely being tracked by the spooks, who move in once the Sympatico comes back online. Rich has to answer some very tough questions but he cooperates fully and winds up digging up a LOT of dirt out of the Sympatico, now that the mafia showed him where to look. It's another one of the super traumatizing moments that makes him look cool and heroic. Oh yeah, totally got kidnapped, single-handedly piloted a ship, and helped bust the mafia, please stop talking about it, I need a nap, and also someone to go with me next time I go boarding. theunvanquishedzims: (And then I finished reading the book and found out that the Sympatico had a new crew and was out on the water with her AI still fried and broken, how did no one notice that)

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theunvanquishedzims: Okay I don't have Trimmer's voice well enough to write this fic so I'm feeding it to you raw: Trucker AU theunvanquishedzims: Rich is a long-haul trucker, much to the disappointment of his elder sister Angela, who is in law enforcement and thought he had a decent future in it too. Athena is a pro wrestler and totally down to support her brother traveling the country (and hopefully being in the same city as him sometime, she wants him to see her kick ass!) Rich wants to pursue a degree in [tech or engineering] but college is expensive, and trucking is a good way to make money, on top of which you don't have to pay rent when you're on the road. So he's saving up for school, probably listening to a lot of audiobooks, podcasts, and training guides while chugging along. theunvanquishedzims: Not nearly as bad or sketchy as the Sympatico, but life on the road can get pretty sketch sometimes, especially when you're alone. Enter Trimmer. Or rather, enter Rich into the middle-of-nowhere trucker stopover bar where Trimmer is getting his ass kicked. theunvanquishedzims: (Gonna go ahead and say the bar is called the Sympatico, and this is a very bad night to be there, which is saying something because any night at the Sympatico is a bad night to be there.) theunvanquishedzims: Fortunately, Rich is not trapped there by the cold uncaring waters of Lake Michigan, he can just turn around and leave when he sees the nightly fight brewing. Unfortunately, he has a weakness for cute twinks, and no matter how much the guy is insulting their mothers four on one is really not fair, so he winds up wading in, scooping Trimmer up, and murder-stalking to the exit theunvanquishedzims: [At this point I pause to stare out the window and wonder wistfully what their canon meeting was like, who approached who, if Trimmer just straight-up used his lunch to hire a bodyguard or if Rich did the "are you gonna finish that" puppy-eyes and Trimmer realized how easily he could be bribed, etc etc] theunvanquishedzims: In the Trucker AU Trimmer waits until they're outside to go feral goblin on the arm that's holding him, Rich drops him, and negotiation commences theunvanquishedzims: I don't have Trimmer's backstory nailed down, the "teenage runaway" archetype doesn't really suit someone with a large loving family, but safe to say that whatever lead him to hitchhiking across the Midwest he is determined to see through out of sheer bullheaded stubbornness. The only thing worse than calling your parents to bail you out with bus money home is calling your grandma. It might have involved stabbing a college advisor when the guy got rapey, he's technically not on the run from the law, he DEFINITELY is not on track to getting his degree. Halfway between college dropout and missing person. If he was wealthy he'd be backpacking Europe for a semester, but he's not, so he's hitchhiking America. And getting molested by truckers, because Trimmer can't have nice things. theunvanquishedzims: He is really not interested in getting molested by Rich! But, as Rich points out, he did just save him from getting stabbed, Trimmer doesn't seem to have any exit options for this backwater town, and holy #&$^ the bar's on fire. (The Sympatico burns to the ground that night, to the betterment of the world at large.) rollerskatinglizard: You have no idea how much I'm enjoying this But you should totally post it Splick and Roach would both scream in glee theunvanquishedzims: Rich and Trimmer get out while the getting is good, and it's nearly dawn before they finally hash out details. Rich offers to drop him off at the next town, but they're still pretty close to the epicenter of the mass exodus so the next few hundred miles are probably not going to be safe for Trimmer. By this point Trimmer has found a bunch of the old textbooks Rich bought secondhand to study in his free time and come to the conclusion that [this nerd is a nerd] his story checks out. Just a college kid trying to scrape together the cash to get an education and make a decent living. Reminds Trimmer of Trimmer. (Reminds Trimmer of Joey.) rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3 Beautiful theunvanquishedzims: So now Rich has a little traveling buddy! Helps him stay awake on the long hauls, lets him use the carpool lanes, even reads to him out of the textbooks sometimes, with commentary. Trimmer is really smart and surprisingly easy to get along with. They nap in the cab, eat in diners, and share motel rooms. Trimmer unclenches a little. Rich is good about not asking personal questions. They definitely watch Athena's fights on tv more than once, much to Rich's chagrin and Trimmer's loud encouragement. He started fanboying over it to annoy and embarrass Rich, but it is surprisingly cathartic to watch someone get trash-talked and respond by just BODYSLAMMING their opponent. ("Why are you rooting for her, you're the biggest trash-talker I know," Rich mutters into his beer, face bright red as Trimmer whoops and high-fives the waitress he got to change the channel in the sports bar.) theunvanquishedzims: ("She would wipe the floor with me," Trimmer responds with a smirk, watching smugly as Rich tries to figure out if Trimmer is having impure thoughts about his baby sister) theunvanquishedzims: (They have already established that Trimmer does not have impure thoughts about Rich, that Rich DOES have impure thoughts about Trimmer, but as long as he stays in his own motel bed that's fine.) (Trimmer still sleeps with a knife under his pillow but doesn't bother in the cab, where their co-naps occasionally verge on snuggling.) rollerskatinglizard: <3 <3 <3 *perfect* theunvanquishedzims: They finally reach their destination. It has been [days to drive a rig between NJ and CA] and they make it there slightly ahead of schedule. Rich drops off the delivery, Trimmer comes face-to-face with the reality of the trip ending. He'd been hitchhiking for months and felt like he was going nowhere, and now a few days and suddenly he's crossed the entire country, and almost kinda maybe had fun doing it! And California's as good a place as any to stay, at least he won't freeze to death if he doesn't find a place to crash for the night. theunvanquishedzims: Then Rich comes back and hands him a wad of cash, pocketing a stack of his own. "Got a cash bonus for finishing early! And since you're the reason I made it here this fast, I just figured part of it is your share..." he peters out, trying to explain his reasoning. They sit in silence for a while, both thinking about Trimmer in California, far away from anyone who would want to hurt him, with a few hundred dollars in his pocket. theunvanquishedzims: "...Let's get lunch," Trimmer finally decrees, and Rich can't keep the relieved smile off his face. They renegotiate some things over lunch, and then go to pick up the next load to haul cross-country. Together. rollerskatinglizard: AWWWWWW!!!! *YES,* I love it!!! theunvanquishedzims: And then eventually they go to college together, and get their degrees, and good jobs, and meet the families, and Trimmer absolutely drags Rich to as many of Athena's fights as they can manage on the road. It's just to save money, things are cheaper when you split the rent, Trimmer hollers on the phone. You put a ring on that boy's finger, y'hear?! Hellbender hollers back. I am so glad the word moirail exists rollerskatinglizard: YES God yes Also this AU pleases me greatly rollerskatinglizard: Blessings upon you for it theunvanquishedzims: ...technically the Michigan Fleet takes place in a post-Homestuck world, so theoretically it could have time to enter mainstream lexicon. It's better than "bromance" theunvanquishedzims: JUST THROWING THAT OUT THERE >.> rollerskatinglizard: Yeah, totally different feel than bromance!

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theunvanquishedzims: Speaking of Homestuck! Wanna hear the Helmsman AU? :3 rollerskatinglizard: YES PLEASE theunvanquishedzims: Okay gimme a minute to get my notes, it's not based on One of Our Submarines but I can't remember the fic title. Have you read the one where the kids redesign the helmsrig and use that to garner support for Feferi as Empress? Lots of political drama, Sollux-centric, [spoiler], and in the end they win *but at what cost* (((If someone knows what fic I'm talking about please link me, I can't find it.))) rollerskatinglizard: No, I haven't theunvanquishedzims: It's good, if you like the nitty-gritty of rebellions. The piece I'm cherry picking is the new Empress introducing a new way of helming that allows more freedom. Instead of a single enslaved lowblood being hung up in tentacle wires until they drop dead, it's something you can unplug from, allowing psionics to swap out, take shifts, etc. So Empress Clearwater (yay seadweller name) is dead, long live Empress Clearwater, and she shakes things up by introducing her new helmsrig and orders it implemented Fleet-wide theunvanquishedzims: I don't think this universe is as bad as canon but it's still pretty rough on the bad ships, and the Sympatico is a very bad ship theunvanquishedzims: Angie is still a security officer, probably fairly high-ranking as a greenblood. Athena is a pro wrestler. Sports are probably a bigger part of life in a Fleet that doesn't center around conquest. The three probably grew up in the same neighborhood, maybe dabbled in quadrants before settling on hatefriends. Oooh, or ash, Athena setting them up to talk out their issues over lunch and then heckle each other over their other quadrants could fit in that quadrant. theunvanquishedzims: Rich is, of course, a helmsman. It's rare for someone that close to jade to be so powerful, he was actually planning on a career in tech, but when he got called in for psionic testing he basically crushed it. Possibly literally. And olive is still technically a lowblood, so off to the helm with you. theunvanquishedzims: His first posting is the Sympatico, and it's a nightmare. The one bright spot (dark spot? How do trolls even. *insert rant about Kanaya being pastel goth not goth-goth*) theunvanquishedzims: The one bright spot is Trimmer, a technician whose survival method is to lock himself in the helm dock and stab anybody who tries to mess with Rich when he's piloting. It's basically how things work in the superstorms, but 75-90% of the time instead of a few times a year theunvanquishedzims: Rich can barely talk most days, they communicate via chat client, and even that requires a lot of brainpower so they can't do it when the Sympatico has to fight something or do difficult maneuvers in space, which is pretty frequently. But Rich keeps an eye out for Trimmer, directing him through the ship to help him avoid people and fights, and tweaking things like hall lights when things get hairy. I think at least once he turned off the gravity, it cost him but it got Trimmer out of a really bad situation and gave him an excuse to hole up in the helmsdeck for a few days until things cooled off theunvanquishedzims: But all that is in the past! There's a new Empress, a new crew, and a new way of helming! theunvanquishedzims: The Sympatico is one of the flagships to roll out the new helmsrig. The original crew was disbanded, culled, reassigned. Trimmer was allowed to stay (at Rich's request) to ease the transition. It's a big day, lots of media attention documenting the new helmsmen, and Rich is doing his best to keep calm. He had to do some physical therapy to stand upright and be able to walk from the big speech to his shiny new helmsrig, but as a fairly young recruit he's not nearly as bad off as some older helmsmen whose bodies have atrophied. He's still pretty skinny though, especially when compared to Angie and Athena, who he reunited with (for the cameras) #helmsmenaretrollstoo, #greenc3<green, #omgishipit, see things are much better now, people can reclaim their lives and quadrants, helming is something to be excited for not scared of, etc. Lots of propaganda, lots of attention, lots of pressure to get this right theunvanquishedzims: And then he walks into the helm and Trimmer is there. Rich would probably have had a meltdown if he hadn't been, but no one can tell because they're so calm and professional. They're both cleaned up and impeccably uniformed, the plugging in goes smoothly, and the Sympatico comes to life and lifts off into the sky into a sunset that would make a Hollywood director weep. The cameras turn off, great job everybody, and things return to normal. Except Rich and Trimmer have no idea how to handle normal. For the first 8 hours it's fine, it's good, it's a little weird that Trimmer looks so tidy and that Rich is sitting in a padded chair instead of being flesh-jacked by tentacles, but it's fine. They chat over text, a little stilted but plenty to catch up on theunvanquishedzims: Rich spies on the new crew and gossips about how boring they are and how weird the ship looks with everything cleared out and well-lit, and wow where did that section of storage come from? Oh right that used to be a hidden smuggling nook. Haha nook. See they're fine, they're laughing at the same old jokes. DEFINITELY weird that Rich is physically laughing. And then their relief shift comes on, with the new 2nd shift helmsman, and it's time for Rich to get unplugged for the day and go. Go to his room, which he has now, or to eat, which he can do now, or any one of a million things that normal trolls do, because he's a normal troll now. (This is turning out a little different from in my head but I like it.) He makes it about two hallways, walking silently side-by-side with Trimmer, before he breaks down. Or rather Trimmer breaks down. Or maybe they both simultaneously break, there is a lot of breaking happening, and it's not great that it's happening in the hall where anybody could walk by and where the new helmsman is almost certainly seeing them and possibly reporting them, and Trimmer's flight instincts are to run back to the helm where it's safe but Rich isn't there, RICH was the reason it was safe and he's not at the helm, he's right there in the hall. Rich, I know not how, picks up Trimmer and gets them to him room. It' close by, thank goodness, and it has a lock on the door, how weird, and Trimmer is there. He missed Trimmer so so much. rollerskatinglizard: ;u; <3<3<3<3 theunvanquishedzims: [The following scene contains content too graphic for wigglers under the age of seven sweeps] rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Hardcore conciliation!!! theunvanquishedzims: From Trimmer's POV: Merrill requested him to remain a tech on the Sympatico. Makes sense, he was the only one who treated the guy like an actual troll and not a drooling mass of computational power. They got caught up, it's weird how clean and quiet the ship is, no fights to report beyond a spat in the cafeteria that turned out to be pitch flirtation. His shirtcuffs itch and he wants to roll them up but it's day one of the new empire and he doesn't want to get culled for being untidy on the Empress's pet project ship. There's so many other things to get culled for, anyway. And then shift is over. (Weird, he's used to working 16-hour days and sleeping in the helmdeck half the time.) And he has to unplug Merrill (double weird, he's not used to touching Merrill unless it's for a physical repair. Very aware of Rich as a physical person, especially when he's standing up and not obscured in a mass of tentacles.) And then they leave, together, which is WEIRD, because for sweeps Trimmer has been sneaking out of the helmdeck to go on a food run with Merrill texting him directions, and there's no Merrill on screen providing guidance to avoid fights, but there's not gonna BE any fights, and everything is the same but different and looks weird and shiny and there's a giant troll right next to him, stalking him, why didn't Merrill warn him?! rollerskatinglizard: Oh NO, ahaha, oh these poor doofuses theunvanquishedzims: From Rich's POV: he's been seeing these hallways for sweeps, but not from this angle, the ship is so familiar but so foreign to him, and he can't hear her, can't feel her, and he keeps reaching out for her even after all that training he did to get used to the new tech, there's still an absence and some part of his brain that says not being linked to the ship means something has gone catastrophically wrong and everyone onboard is going to die, TRIMMER is going to die, Trimmer is freaking out and hyperventilating next to him, Trimmer's running out of oxygen and the ship isn't responding to him to tell him what's wrong with the oxygen, and then Trimmer goes to bolt back to the helm but that's full of strange trolls and a new helmsman, and that knowledge is enough to shake him back to the situation at hand. He doesn't know where he finds the strength or the presence of mind, but he manages to grab up Trimmer and get them back to safety. It's just that safety is now his berth, not the helm. They're alone in his berth. And Trimmer is still freaking out. Sh-shoosh? Shoosh. Shooooooosh. theunvanquishedzims: Everything is diamonds and snow and beautiful shining crystals (in the movies that will someday be made about this day.) In the moment there's a lot more hyperventilating and snot. Basically, culmination behind the entire fic: do they actually have feelings for each other, or was it just about mutual survival the whole time? rollerskatinglizard: INCREDIBLY ADORABLE AND INTIMATE COMFORT, *YESSSS* Thank you yes, I'll have a dozen God that's splendid theunvanquishedzims: And they're both freaking out, Rich is hungry and physically tired and needs to do a lot of stretches, Trimmer is not used to Rich being huge and mobile and right next to him, and they both have crazy big trust issues, but...yeah, they're pale. They're so pale for each other, and it was so hard during the transition not seeing each other and not knowing how the other felt, not knowing how THEY felt, if they really had feelings or if it was all a bad situation. And now they know. They have feelings. And because they're trolls and not humans, they can flop on a pile and talk about those feelings in a non-platonic way, and Rich can pet Trimmer's hair and tell him how pretty he is and how Rich is glad that Trimmer got it properly cut instead of just hacking it too short for someone to grab, and how much he worried in the hall about not being able to see farther than his own field of vision to keep Trimmer out of harm's way, and how this whole thing is so weird and Rich is so scared but he's just really, really happy that Trimmer took the posting on the Sympatico, because he pities Trimmer and he wants him around and he was so glad that Trimmer wanted to still be around him too theunvanquishedzims: The media always depicts piling as either the traditional fairytale highblood freakout, or an extremely mellow ASMR-ish chillout with lots of hairpetting and horn polishing. Not two midbloods looting a mostly-empty room for enough junk to make a large enough pile to sit on, shrieking at each other about their feelings and how weird this is and why didn't you SAY something, me?! why didn't YOU say something?! Three SWEEPS we've been dancing around this! Well I didn't know if you felt the same way or if you just needed me to survive! Etc etc etc. Lots of getting up and stomping around , pacing the floor while ranting, trying to scavenge more stuff to throw on the pile. Rich owns basically nothing and it's the first time he's not judging Trimmer for keeping his room a garbage heap, even empty pizza boxes would be better than trying to make a pile out of two sweaters and a toothbrush. rollerskatinglizard: XDDD TuT aaaaah, YES theunvanquishedzims: Rich definitely rips off a wall panel and pulls out some wires, Trimmer doesn't even question it, they've lived and breathed this ship long enough to know what every wire does and which are nonessential to ship functioning. And with the wall panel crunched up they can pile stuff around it to make it seem less sparse, and wow it doesn't even matter that he pulled a panel down, this is HIS wall in HIS room now, he can "redecorate" as he sees fit, cue more yelling about how he doesn't know what to do with himself or his newfound freedom. The whole thing is just yelling and cussing and grabbing and shaking. It probably looks black from the outside, but they are swimming in palest cream. theunvanquishedzims: Eventually they give up on the pile. They go through Rich's entire perigee of snack rations to avoid having to go to the cafeteria, halfheartedly make fun of Rich's chewing, then crawl into the recuperacoon together. Thank goodness there was such a big push to show off how great helmsmen's lives will be, Rich scored a blueblood-huge 'coon and he's still skinny enough that they can both fit in it together. They sleep together, in sopor like proper trolls with proper lives as opposed to surrounded by pink tentacles and misery. Tomorrow they'll have to venture out for food, and do Rich's stretches and physical therapy, and head to their shift like the galaxy hasn't flipped upside-down, but they're handle that together. rollerskatinglizard: Oh help, my heart!! TuT It's SO CUTE, AAAAAAAH theunvanquishedzims: Okay my computer has been trying to shut down for the last three paragraphs so I think it's time to log off for the night, but I hope you enjoy the AUs, I will tell you more tomorrow rollerskatinglizard: Thank you so much!! Have a good night! theunvanquishedzims: (In the original version Rich and Trimmer came face-to-face for the first time since the Sympatico was busted up and Rich pulled out for rehab, and basically had a giant pale meltdown right there against the wall. There was purring, and crying, and confessions, all caught on film. Athena and Angie definitely saw. It had to be censored out of the broadcast. Someone uploaded it to Troll Pornhub and it won a Troll Pornhub Emmy for Truth in Journalism, which was not a category the Troll Pornhub Emmys had before, so congrats Merrill and Trimmer) rollerskatinglizard: *dying* oh my GOD Rich would blush so hard he'd keel over

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theunvanquishedzims: I woke up to the idea of Rich as Fezzik and Trimmer as Inigo Montoya (book version.) rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Oh man, delightful theunvanquishedzims: Soft-hearted giant and stabby little friend rollerskatinglizard: Yesss theunvanquishedzims: Only problem is Trimmer's grudge seems to be against the entire world, not any particular murderer theunvanquishedzims: But they could definitely take on the Zoo of Death together rollerskatinglizard: It could be both, in the AU! Specific grudge and also he hates everyone theunvanquishedzims: Instead of not being left-handed he pulls his feet out of his boots and surprise! More hands to stab you with Makes the acrobatics on top of the cliff more exciting rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES Perfect! theunvanquishedzims: I don't know who the Man in Black of most beautiful woman in the world would be, but Rich catching them jumping out a window to whisk them away on horseback is lovely rollerskatinglizard: *strokes chin thoughtfully* If Rich is Fezzik, I think Basil might as well be the beautiful love interest, and Mitch is his farm boy turned dashing rogue theunvanquishedzims: Mitch and Trimmer sword fighting rollerskatinglizard: YES theunvanquishedzims: Mitch going through hell and back to save his lady love, then Rich shows up with the horses and says "hello pretty lady" and Basil is just swooning over him rollerskatinglizard: Mitch is pretty chill with Rich by then, he can handle sharing Rich didn't try *hard* to kill him, after all theunvanquishedzims: He even made it a fair fight instead of ambushing him He put down the rock and Mitch put down the sword and they tried to kill each other like civilized people rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Yes, exactly theunvanquishedzims: Rich even helped bring him back from being mostly dead rollerskatinglizard: They're practically best buddies now! theunvanquishedzims: Which I imagine is 1000x funnier because Trimmer hates this guy and doesn't want to help him but he has info Trimmer needs rollerskatinglizard: Rich just being reprovingly like Come on, buddy, he's cool really I KNOW you bonded over your sword fight with him Don't lie Trimmer: HE'S STILL A DIPSHIT theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: It was a little fun to take the boots off I guess, I don't get to do that often rollerskatinglizard: Hahaha yes theunvanquishedzims: Downside of being the best swordsman in the world, nobody can touch you. UNTIL NOW. Trimmer: I killed the guy but now I have nothing to live for. Mitch: Have you considered piracy? Stabbing people all day and all the rope ladders you can climb rollerskatinglizard: *dying* theunvanquishedzims: Now Trimmer's life goal is to reclaim his title of Best Swordsman, which means fighting Mitch a lot rollerskatinglizard: Which they both enjoy Sometimes Trimmer wins, sometimes Mitch does rollerskatinglizard: Roach points out that Liam would be Miracle Max theunvanquishedzims: I was just about to type that! rollerskatinglizard: Heee! Good brain wave theunvanquishedzims: You need a cure for death? Nope, sorry. You need to it humiliate my mortal enemy? Coming right up! rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: Slipping Rich the holocaust cloak "because it fits so nice" rollerskatinglizard: Pfff yes theunvanquishedzims: Which is said with a million more winky faces than the movie rollerskatinglizard: XDDD Naturally Liam is a much higher-libido mad scientist-substitute theunvanquishedzims: He doesn't have a wife he has like six boyfriend minions hanging around in various states of undress. He got fired for banging the king when he was the royal miracle man, he did a good job but the prince found it icky. rollerskatinglizard: *dying* YES theunvanquishedzims: Basil as Buttercup tho. Basil: Mitch is a good friend. :) Just a great buddy. :)) Kind of smelly but a nice boy. :))) Someone: *might possibly find Mitch attractive* Basil: What? Why. No. Why would she. I mean yeah he's smart and muscular and tan and broad-shouldered and has perfect teeth and his sweat glistens in the sun as he does his chores shirtless, but c'mon, he's not THAT much hotter than her middle-aged husband. No way. rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* rollerskatinglizard: My cowriters very enjoy this AU concept, btw, thank you theunvanquishedzims: Excellent theunvanquishedzims: Trimmer: I told him I was there to kill him and he just...ran away? Mitch: Who does that? rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* theunvanquishedzims: Basil being a slobby peasant until two minutes after Mitch leaves, then realizing he has to take care of himself if he wants to keep Mitch's attention, and only then starting to regularly bathe and brush his hair and work on his figure. rollerskatinglizard: Snirk! Sounds about right, doofus nerd that he is theunvanquishedzims: Then he becomes a princess and has two servants per limb to keep him clean and shining, so when Mitch sneaks into the wedding announcement crowd his first view of Basil is 1. clean 2. shiny hair 3. dressed like a queen

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General book chit-chat, no specific AU

theunvanquishedzims: I saw the post about the Sympatico crew having a very different view of Rich than his friends and now I am consumed with the idea of Rich being seen as scary by anyone who knows him for more than a single minute. Like, he flinches at the sight of a uniform, he can't stand to be in a room with more than one other person in it, and he's so busy working he doesn't really have time to go around carving out a territory rollerskatinglizard: Right? You'd think it'd be tricky, but apparently no theunvanquishedzims: And now there's video of him covered in kittens, and doing cool board tricks, and pretending a little barbel is too heavy to lift, and also he might be in the news for taking down a murderous conspiracy at the Mall. rollerskatinglizard: *laughing* Indeed theunvanquishedzims: Where did big scary monster Merrill go, who is this marshmallow rollerskatinglizard: What scam is he trying to run?!? theunvanquishedzims: Oooh, I pity the fool who is assigned to a boat with Officer Merrill. Double flinch response rollerskatinglizard: RIGHT? *OH SHIT, THERE'S ANOTHER ONE* And she's ARMED theunvanquishedzims: Try to blow off some steam by watching some wrestling, A THIRD ONE rollerskatinglizard: Some poor dumbass who sneered at Trimmer once ends up hiding out on a penny boat bc there's MERRILLS EVERYWHERE, IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE theunvanquishedzims: *dying laughing* I imagine a non-terrible Sympatico crew member meeting reformed Rich is like those Very Special Episodes where the hero's high school bully or childhood bad influence friend comes to town, and they're so nice and friendly and apologetic about what happened back in the day rollerskatinglizard: We actually have an encounter something like that planned! theunvanquishedzims: The hero's friends are all charmed and the hero can't convince anyone that it's all an act, he's secretly still terrible, look I'll prove it *does something that makes the hero look bad and the reformed guy look like a victim* Yaaaaaaaaay!!! Outside perspective is the BEST rollerskatinglizard: Rich and this random dude, both acting like the other one is a total menace Meanwhile, anyone who's known either of them since is like ....No?? He's a fine guy, perfectly reasonable Merrill, stop growling theunvanquishedzims: Two Spider-Men pointing at each other rollerskatinglizard: Hah! Yes theunvanquishedzims: Also the fact that Rich has gotten BIGGER since leaving the Sympatico is probably a shock rollerskatinglizard: OH yeah theunvanquishedzims: Richard "Cranky Because He's Slowly Starving To Death" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: I mean, it's a shock to Rich When he hits another growth spurt So it's definitely a shock to anyone else theunvanquishedzims: Oh yeah, he was like 17 when he was first assigned there, nowhere near done growing yet Richard "My Shirts Rip When I Flex Wrong" Merrill rollerskatinglizard: *snickering* He'd look so sheepish and disgruntled if someone gave him that "I flexed and the sleeves fell off" shirt theunvanquishedzims: I am so glad Trimmer got to him before, like, a gang could figure out he's easily bribed with food. Things could have gone so much worse, corruption-wise rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: I just finished Athena and the Midnight Chicken and WOW Rich was actually kind of close to giving in to peer pressure there, if Athena hadn't thrown herself towards the proverbial sword he might have let himself be talked into something he really didn't want to do. rollerskatinglizard: It's possible! Baby Rich is very weak to peer pressure theunvanquishedzims: If they had been smart and manipulative and laid the groundwork first it would have been even easier, not just "here's a knife let your ingrained killing instincts do the work" rollerskatinglizard: Yeah! It could've gone much worse theunvanquishedzims: In the wrong hands Rich would make a very good, very sad soldier But like, deep down inside sad where no one could see it. rollerskatinglizard: That was actually close to his original story when I came up with him

[I’ll check with Skates to see if it’s okay to post that bit]

theunvanquishedzims: I'm already nervous about those two Horrible Old Men rollerskatinglizard: Which two? theunvanquishedzims: My face went D: at the idea that there's more than two rollerskatinglizard: *pats u gently* theunvanquishedzims: The werewolf guy with the boys on leashes is the one that makes my instincts scream KILL IT WITH FIRE, but there's also the one with the scar on his face? I wanna say Arthur Carroway rollerskatinglizard: >u> Gosh, Zims, idk WHY you'd be worried about him Just bc my tablet keyboard knows how to spell Carraway That's no reason to be concerned! rollerskatinglizard: Maybe Splick made him the [tarot] Devil bc he's devilishly handsome! Did you think of that?? theunvanquishedzims: I am terrified of him showing up, I know I'll be cringing too hard to keep reading right away. Men who abuse positions of power are so squicky, I couldn't even stand to watch the Office and Michael Scott is like, the most benign example of the trope But yeah a guy like that getting to Rich as a younger more mallable person, fresh-faced and eager to please. Ugh. Such a bad ending. rollerskatinglizard: YUP theunvanquishedzims: William Sandgren is the other one, I think rollerskatinglizard: Fortunately Rich did get rescued originally! I don't do sad endings theunvanquishedzims: He looks cool, I don't immediately want him dead for my own safety rollerskatinglizard: <u< theunvanquishedzims: ...I will ignore that face and continue to think of him as the lesser of two evils for now rollerskatinglizard: Absolutely feel free! ^u^ theunvanquishedzims: When I thought about this earlier I imagined Liam actually being the one to start a pissing contest with Arthur. Rich guy vs criminal guy, my grandmother bedazzled the skulls of her enemies, your teeth would make a lovely necklace, etc etc "Well I'd love to get them around your throat" ;) rollerskatinglizard: You know Liam QUITE well theunvanquishedzims: I'm a visual learner, so all the illustrations are helping me flesh out characteristics. Liam smiling like a psycho while his face drips blood is very telling. rollerskatinglizard: Hah!!! Right? God, he's SUCH a little firebrand theunvanquishedzims: (Also, AU where Liam is the babydoll heir and Rich is the soldier mod bodyguard he climbs like a tree) rollerskatinglizard: We have definitely discussed that AU thoughtfully >u> It's good, v tasty theunvanquishedzims: Rich is all THIS GOES AGAINST THE RULES and Liam is all oh you like being told what to do hmm? >:3~ rollerskatinglizard: Rich: God this is SUCH a bad idea, I'm gonna get so fired Liam: Not if you're good enough at it! theunvanquishedzims: I imagine without a pregnancy they'd be able to keep it under wraps slightly longer than grandma Beaker rollerskatinglizard: True! theunvanquishedzims: "Under wraps" like everyone in the house can't hear them rollerskatinglizard: Pffff YUP theunvanquishedzims: Ugh now I'm remembering Trimmer being scared of Rich getting drunk and pushy and I'm sad again rollerskatinglizard: No one likes Rich's drinking except Rich rollerskatinglizard: It's okay tho, Trimmer trusts Rich more after that theunvanquishedzims:I think he'll figure it out given enough time. Rich: Well everyone drinks because work sucks. Basil and Mitch: Nope! Rich: Well I'm a soldier mod so it just LOOKS like I'm drinking a lot. Angie and Thena: Nope! Rich: Well I have trauma from the Sympatico so I need alcohol to deal with that. Trimmer: Nope! Rich: ...well I guess I have a problem then. :< Everyone: Yep! rollerskatinglizard: Indeed theunvanquishedzims: I am so curious about their origins, how the relationship developed, how apparently they had half a handjob between them and went NOPE NEVER AGAIN, how they wound up co-sleeping, if they ever cried on one another, etc etc rollerskatinglizard: I'm 100% certain that Rich cried on Trimmer at least once, while Trimmer awkwardly patted his hair and gently called him a wuss or something If Trimmer ever cried it would've been in the middle of the night, and none of them would ever mention it in the light of day theunvanquishedzims: Was that Trimmer's first posting? I know it was Rich's, so he kiiiind of didn't know any better, but Trimmer is older by a bit rollerskatinglizard: It definitely wasn't Trimmer's first, no, the latest in a long string of postings that went from okay to bad to worse theunvanquishedzims: Oh nooooooo No wonder he finally said screw it and got a solo boat rollerskatinglizard: Yep

#michigan fleet #boat boys #AUs are still my favorite thing #long post #richard merrill #joseph trimmer

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grailfinders · 4 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #82: Frankenstein

You know her, you love her, and today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re building her! Frankenstein’s the last summonable servant in London, but we’re going out on a high note with an electrifying servant.

Check out Fran’s build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Classic middle child syndrome.

Race and Background

Like Mash, Fran runs into the problem of Homunculus not being a playable race. It would be fitting to make our own with the new Tasha’s stuff, but Fran’s tough, hits hard, and doesn’t talk good, so the closest thing we’ve got is an Orc. This gives her +2 Strength and +1 Constitution. She also gets 60′ of Darkvision, and a Powerful Build, so she counts as Large when figuring out what she can carry. Good thing too- those bolts look heavy. She’s also Aggressive, letting her dash as a bonus action, as long as she ends up closer to an enemy at the end of it. She also gets Insight and Nature proficiencies. She knows flowers are pretty, and that’s good enough for her.

Fran is also a Haunted One, giving her Survival and Investigation proficiencies. Most people would say your dad was the real monster, after all.

Ability Scores

Your endurance is one of your highest parameters, so your Constitution has to be pretty high. Almost as high is your Strength- you’re swinging a big club around for most of your attacks. To make her a real berserker, all her physical stats have to be above her mental ones, so Dexterity comes third. Your Wisdom isn’t too bad, being able to convey meaning with a couple grunts is probably wisdom? Your Charisma is pretty low- you’re loveable, but there’s only so much you can do without spoken language. Finally, we’re dumping Intelligence. You don’t really “do” “talking”, or “strategy”.

Class Levels

1. No points for guessing, but you’re a Barbarian. At first level you can Rage as a bonus action to deal extra damage on each attack, get advantage on strength saves and checks, and resist physical (bludgeoning, slashing, piercing) damage. You also get Unarmored Defense, giving you an AC of 10 plus your dexterity and constitution modifiers while unarmored. Despite what Nero says, a bridal gown is not appropriate fight gear.

2. At second level, you can make Reckless Attacks, gaining advantage on all of a turn’s attacks in exchange for granting advantage to anyone attacking you until your next turn. You also gain a Danger Sense, giving you advantage on Dexterity saves against effects you can see. You already blast yourself with plenty of electricity- you don’t need anyone else’s help with that.

3. Third level barbarians set down a primal path, and the Path of the Storm Herald seems to be pretty popular in London. When you set down your path, you learn a Storm Aura that extends 10′ away from you when raging. Technically you can change the effect whenever you level up, but we’re sticking with Sea to get some electric charge. The sea aura forces a Dexterity save of 8 plus your proficiency and constitution modifiers on a single target, dealing 1d6 Lightning Damage if they fail, or half as much if they succeed. This happens when you begin the rage, as well as on a bonus action each turn while raging.

4. Use your first Ability Score Improvement to become a Crusher, a feat which just become official in Tasha’s! This increases your Constitution by 1. More mechanically, once per turn you can push a creature that is up to one size larger than you by 5′ when you hit it with bludgeoning damage. Also, dealing critical bludgeoning damage imposes advantage on all attacks against that creature until the end of your next turn. You’ve got a big hammer, it’s gonna hurt when it falls.

5. Let’s make the most of that feat with an Extra Attack each attack action, as well as an extra 10′ of movement while unarmored thanks to Fast Movement.

6. Sixth level storm heralds gain a Storm Soul, granting you resistance to lightning damage as well as immunity to drowning thanks to your underwater breathing and swim speed. The real Fran probably can’t swim, so just consider this a bonus.

7. Your Feral Instinct gives you advantage on initiative rolls, and you can ignore being surprised if you rage at the start of your turn. You’re resistant to being shocked in every sense of the phrase now.

8. Use your next ASI to round out your Constitution and Dexterity for more health, stronger lightning, and less getting hit.

9. Ninth level barbarians can make Brutal Criticals, adding an extra die to critical damage. You hit people so hard a tree pops out. I don’t know exactly how much damage you need to make that happen, but it’s probably a lot.

10. Tenth level storm heralds foretell a Shielding Storm, granting creatures of your choice in your aura lightning resistance. Also, your lightning gets a bit stronger, dealing an extra d6 of damage.

11. At eleventh level, your Relentless Rage lets you drop to 1 hp when you’d normally drop to 0 if you make a DC 10 Constitution save. The next time you use this feature, the DC increases by 5, and it resets at the end of a short rest.

12. Use this ASI to bump up your Strength for more hitting. Not everything has to be complicated, you know.

13. At thirteenth level, you get another die added to your Brutal Criticals.

14. Your final Storm Herald feature turns you into a Raging Storm. While raging, you can use your reaction to force a creature you hit to make a Strength saving throw or get knocked prone. So you can combine this with your Crusher to bat people out of the way and leave them on their ass.

15. Your rages don’t end until you say they do, thanks to your Persistent Rage. Also, your Storm Aura gets even stronger, bumping up to 3d6.

16. If you’re using the standard array, this ASI will be the one that maximizes your Strength for the hardest hits.

17. Just kidding, they can get even harder thanks to a third die from Brutal Critical. That hammer’s bigger than your head- it’s got some serious heft to it.

18. Eighteenth level barbarians have Indomitable Might, meaning your strength checks are always your strength score at minimum. Congratulations on winning every sporting event ever, you’ve earned it.

19. Use your last ASI to maximize your Constitution for the most health, lightning, and AC possible. It doesn’t get better than this.

20. Sorry for lying a second time, it totally does! As a Primal Champion, you have unlimited rages, and your strength and constitution scores increase by 4, with new maximums of 24. Sometimes sticking to one class is worth it. Also, your Storm Aura maxes out at 4d6 lightning, if you’re still interested.

Pros

With almost 300 HP, AC that rivals the best kinds of armor, and rage resistances, it’s pretty safe to say you’re tough to kill. You’re also really strong, with a super maxed out strength score and a Powerful Build, you’re able to carry 720 lbs at once. You’re no Spartacus, but that’s still more than most people will ever need to worry about.

Thanks to Crusher and your Raging Storm, you’re good at breaking enemy formations and really punishing anyone you get your hands on. By using bludgeoning criticals or knocking them prone, you can give your whole group advantage against them.

You’re even faster than a normal barbarian thanks to your Aggressive nature giving you an extra 40′ of movement to work with to make up for using a hammer as your main weapon.

Cons

You use a hammer as your main weapon, and your storm barely extends out of melee range. That means if something’s faster than you or can fly, you’ll have a hard time doing anything to it.

Your only source of magical damage is your storm aura, which is pretty lackluster until it starts getting regular buffs in the latter half of the game. It’s nothing a magical weapon can’t fix, but that’s dependent on your DM, and sometimes they’re not nice people.

You have a very limited array of damage types to choose from. Technically any weapon is available to you, but Crusher does prod you towards using only bludgeoning weapons, which means anything that can resist that and lightning damage will be a pain for you.

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #Fate and Phantasms #D&D 5e #Frankenstein

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purplesurveys · 4 years ago

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1068

What internet browser do you use? Chrome. It’s what I’m used to, but I also think it looks the cleanest among the other available browsers.

What brand water do you drink? (Smart Water, Dasani, etc) I never reach for imported water brands like Evian because what is the point?? The local bottled water brands we have like Summit and Absolute work fine and already do a great job of quenching my thirst.

Do you have a job? Yes and I go back tomorrow and I’m cringing thinking about it. I love my job, but I wish it wasn’t so mercilessly hectic for 9 straight hours, 5 days a week. I like to think that I was hired right at the start of all the simultaneous Christmas campaigns of our clients which is why everything seemed busy; so I’m hoping the workload will start to die down a little bit now that all the holidays are over.

Are you full-time or part-time? Full-time.

Are you watching TV right now? Nope. I was watching on YouTube earlier, but I decided to focus on this.

Or are you listening to music? No. It’s silent here in the living room, just the way I want it to currently be.

Would you go to jail for 3 years for $1,000,000? I don’t think that’s enough money for a dare that big.

When's your birthday? April 21st.

Thoughts on kids? I’m a lot less idealistic about them now. I used to want kids with my only formula being “I’ll do the exact opposite of what my mom did with me.” but I realized it’s so much more complicated than that. Raising a kid/kids is a whole damn job in itself and I see that with how my cousins of the same age, but from different families, have been acting. My cousins from one family are really spoiled and entitled, and I can’t last in a room with them for more than a minute; but my cousins in another family are so ridiculously well-behaved I can’t even start to fathom how respectful and kind they are. That observation has scared me away from kids in the meantime, because I still have to figure out how to not fuck such a responsibility up.

Worst punishment you've ever received by your parents? The worst thing they ever did was take away my laptop privileges for an indefinite period when I was 11, when they caught me being a dumbass on social media and cursing all over the place. It’s a reasonable punishment per se, but that was also a time when the internet was starting to become a resource and requirement for homework and school projects; so my parents didn’t know how many things I failed to submit because they didn’t allow me on the internet.

Are you the type who is completely against abortion? I am pro-choice and pro-pregnant people should be allowed to make decisions about their own bodies. I don’t like the idea of abortion, but I’ve always believed people should have access to resources to learn more about it, to a healthy culture that embraces it as an option, and to actual facilities that will enable them to receive one if the need be.

Have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? No, I don’t think so. Not yet at least.

Does your favorite flower hold any meaning to you? Peonies don’t mean anything in particular. I just think they look pretty.

What would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? I can’t imagine dogs ever getting endangered, but hypothetically I’d be crushed. I’d do the same thing I would do with other endangered animals, which is to spread the word about their situation and what can be done to save them from getting even fewer in number.

Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No. I never cared for makeup. I’m turning 23 and still don’t feel the need to invest in it...should I be worried?

Do you own a tripod for your camera? We used to, but I have not seen it in a long time.

Are your nails always painted? They never are.

What's one thing you've had a toxic reaction to? A breakup. < This was true for me too, at least for a time. Another one would be the barbecue that my uncle bought for a family gathering once that was definitely contaminated with something...shit gave me food poisoning at 3 AM and made me think my half-naked self was going to die right then and there in the bathroom.

Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? We only ever decorate for Christmas, so I guess it wins by default.

Were you popular in school? By the second half of high school I was hanging out with the popular groups and getting invited to popular kid things, but I never wanted to claim to be popular myself. I still liked letting my friends take the spotlight.

Are there any foods that often give you heartburn or indigestion? Is there something you intend to buy in the near future? Is anyone in your family artistically talented? What about musically? What cute behaviors or characteristics does/do your pet(s) have? What's the screensaver on your computer? Crossing these out as I believe this survey is a shuffle of questions from many different surveys...? and I have already answered these five in a past survey I recently finished.

What’s the sexiest thing about a guy? I don’t really care for guys, I think... I still haven’t made up my mind about them yet, but all I know is I definitely have not felt seriously attracted to any irl man my whole life.

What’s the sexiest thing about a girl? THIGHS

Who were you with at midnight on January 1, 2021? Who was the last person to send you a message on social media? ^ What qualities does this person have, that you appreciate? What was the last thing that caused you to scowl, or frown? Have you smiled at any point during the last hour? What was the last thing you consulted Google for? So, did anyone send you a "Happy New Year" message when midnight hit? When was the last time you were on a carousel? What is the closest you have ever been to an elephant? Have you ever played Halo? Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine? When was the last time you had a pillow fight? Name somebody who you think deserves more respect: In your own words, define what the word sexy means. What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live? Without looking - do you know what brand your underwear is? Are you any good at volleyball? Have you ever had a water balloon fight? Same situation as above. What an interesting order of questions, hehe. Still having fun with this though!

Do you think some babies are ugly? Newborns are super wrinkly and make the strangest facial expressions from time to time. That won’t stop me from cooing at them, though.

Don’t you miss Chuck E. Cheese? I’ve never been there. Is it like a standard birthday party events place for kids?

Do you think Fall Out Boy is gonna be a classic band, like Queen or AC/DC? In time, maybe.

Do you love stuff-crusted pizza? Yessssss.

Do you apply lotion after you bathe? I don’t, but I should probably pick it up as a habit seeing how dry my skin can get.

What’s your favorite color? Pastel pink. < Same!

Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? Gabie.

Has a YouTube video of yours ever gotten over 10,000 views? I’ve never even posted a video on YouTube.

Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? Not my spot of choice, so maybe not.

Do you like Robert Frost poems? I’m only familiar with one and I’m having a little trouble remembering it rn haha.

Do you go to church every Sunday? We used to go to church, yeah; back when it was okay to. Our local church has allowed face-to-face masses again (but with very limited attendees) but my mom has preferred for us to stay home, so for the last few months we’ve been watching livestreams of Sunday mass every week.

Have you ever been in a relationship on-and-off for more than a year? I would say Gab and I were on-and-off, but it went on a lot longer than a year. The total time would amount to six years.

If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Writing. Or modeling, if I could only pull it off.

What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? I seriously don’t care. I skip out on bras all the time because I honestly personally don’t need them, and everyone should be allowed to feel and act the same way.

What is the last thing you tried on in a store? I never do this. Even before Covid, I’ve felt iffy about trying clothes that many others have already put on and were probably not washed 100% well. I’d rather get something, try it on at home, decide if it’s a good fit or not, and then return it ASAP if it ends up being the latter.

Is sleeping naked more comfortable than in clothes? My mom doesn’t knock so I’ve always been scared to try sleeping naked (and she also throws a fit if she catches me locking my door, which is like - then why did you even buy a doorknob with a lock??), but I definitely see the appeal.

Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? Yes for the more part lmao, but I don’t know if I’ve ever made out in a dream.

Do you feel as though you have a good memory, or are you forgetful at times? Do you feel that your short-term memory or long-term memory is better? Have you ever had a concussion or some other sort of brain injury before? Do you have any sort of mental illnesses or disorders? What do they involve? What’s the longest that your hair has ever been? How about the shortest? When is the last time that you got it cut? What are some ways that you style your hair? Do you use any sorts of products in it? Who was the last person to truly get on your nerves? What do you think caused you to feel that way?

Do you recycle? Is this through choice or do you live somewhere where it’s compulsory? Through choice. Waste management is sadly not much of a priority here, if at all.

Do you prefer plain, carbonated, or flavored water? Do you think you drink enough water throughout the day? I have never tried the latter two. Water has always been tasteless and plain to me, and I never understood the point of customizing something that’s meant to be tasteless and uncarbonated. There are days where I’m able to have several glasses and other days where I unconsciously skip out on water until dinner.

Have you ever needed to call the police, ambulance, or fire department? Fortunately I’ve never had to call any of these.

When was the last time you visited the library? What was the purpose of your visit? I wasssssss maybe having something printed? If it wasn’t that, I was probably returning a book.

Do you see a lot of wild animals where you live? Are any of them dangerous? None of that here, especially since I live in the city. A sighting of a wild animal outside of a zoo or eco-park would definitely make national news, like that time an ostrich was seen running around a private village many months ago.

Aside from when you were born, have you ever had to stay the night in the hospital? Yep, from a dengue scare that turned out to be just a simple low platelet count.

Have you ever experienced a panic attack? Yes, but they are extremely rare. The last time I had one was maybe two or three years ago. Unfortunately I think all my panic attacks were caused by and involved my mom.

Would you ever want to go into the medical profession? Was your answer different pre-COVID? For a time, when I was hating journalism in college, I was daydreaming about the idea of shifting to biology and making the drastic swerve to med school. But I knew a love of memorizing and biology topics won’t be enough for me to be successful in the medical field, so I quickly shot the idea down.

Where you live, are people paying attention to whatever restrictions are in place to help control COVID? Many? People are definitely following and have been obedient with protocol in different places. Some cities are also still strict with maintaining their checkpoints and banning tourists from entering their area just yet. It’s the government that hasn’t really been making the effort to put measures to contain the virus.

Do you get a real or artificial Christmas tree? Artificial. I don’t know if getting real trees for Christmas trees is a thing here.

What’s your favourite type/flavor of popcorn? Cheddar cheese.

Do you drink oat milk? Nopes. I’d like to try it just to say that I have (and I might end up loving it too), but I have yet to look up what foods or drinks it works best with.

Do you love thrifting? Sure, sometimes I get good finds from it.

Do you consider using only lowercase letters your aesthetic? Sometimes I’ll use it in a Powerpoint or a tweet, but I wouldn’t say it’s an aesthetic that defines me as a person.

Do you say “mood?” Too much.

Do you own fairy lights? No. I wanted those before, but I’m not so sure if I still do now.

Do you own glass straws because the metal ones kind of gross you out because you can’t tell if they are clean or not? I don’t own glass straws. Most places have changed their cups into a design that you can sip directly from, anyway.

Have you made a TikTok? No, don’t care.

Do you own airpods? No, but would like a pair.

Are you afraid of Mercury in retrograde? I really don’t care.

Do you make life choices based on astrology? No, I don’t believe in it. It scares me how much some people rely on it and use it as an actual moral compass or judgment system. It doesn’t harm anyone so I never actively speak out against astrology, but it scares me nonetheless.

How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? One pair. I used to own another one, but my mom threw it out several years ago.

Number of jeans in your closet: I would say like 10-12.

What accent do you have? Philippine English/Americanized Filipino, I guess.

Do you have a big butt? I’d say it’s decently-sized.

Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? Yeah, before.

Have you graduated? Both high school and college, yup.

Rihanna or Lady GaGa? I like Rihanna’s music more, but I love Gaga’s outfits, concepts, and stage presence more. Do you use fake eyelashes? No. I had to use them twice, but I’d never seek them out on my own.

Which was the last book that really captivated you? It’s been a while since I encountered a book like this.

What makeup brands do you use? I don’t use makeup.

#survey #surveys

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threewaysdivided · 5 years ago

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I appreciate the response. Yeah, among other adjustments, had the plot been handled a little differently, I feel like Sam’s relationship with her parents could have evolved into something like that of Danny and Jazz and their parents. And don’t get me wrong; I still like Sam, too.

(In reference to this post and follow-up ask.)

Good to hear from you again 😊

I think there were a lot of things across the board that could have been tweaked or edited to improve the integrity of the series. If I had to boil down the problem with DP to a single point I’d probably say it’s that the most interesting parts of the show are the characters/world/implications but the writers (or some of them anyway - I suspect there might have been some conflict between Hartman, the lead writers and the execs’) wanted certain plots, aesops and gags, and chose to brute-force them in regardless of whether they actually worked with what was already there. Basically, it lacks consistency and internal logic.

For Sam in particular I think there are a few things that could have been handled better:

First one’s more a general complaint at the show and might light a fire under my notes but heck lets go there anyway but the writing has kind of a sexist bent that really doesn’t fit the characters or need to be there. Considering how much Danny and Jack are shown to love and respect Maddie and Jazz there’s no way they’d call their involvement in Genius Magazine “the swimsuit edition”. Paulina might be traditionally feminine but “She surrendered her individuality for a boy! I’m so proud of her!” is not a line that any human girl in the history of human girls would say unironically. There’s also a few too many jokes that basically boil down to “male character is emasculated/ vulnerable/ likes feminine-coded things, hyuk hyuk hyuk”.

I’m bringing this up not just because they’re gross cheap gags but because for Sam specifically, this pervasive low-key contempt for women and femininity in the writing, especially the tendency to portray almost every non-sympathetic girl her age as one-note, brainless boy-crazy cliches that she can’t connect with, really does not help her character. I would have loved to see more genuine interaction between Sam and the other girls, even if it most of it was Kim Possible-Bonnie Rockwaller style antagonistic rapport. We could have seen her develop some kind of tenuous connection with one of the A-listers, or even just have a secondary-female-character to be cordial towards - kind of like Mikey is for Danny and Tucker. Hold up, outside of Valerie, Star and Paulina are there any named secondary girls at Casper High? Sam doesn’t seem to have a single female friend in the show and considering how vocally judgemental she is, it can almost read like she’s rejecting them outright for being girls, which really undercuts attempts to make her seem feminist. (I mentioned it in a past tag but this feels like an early-2000s-male-writer mistake of equating Female Empowerment™ with the ability to tear down other women and belittle traditional femininity - which isn’t so much Feminism as it is Internalised Misogyny.) Even just mixing up the pairings to put her with Star instead of Kwan in Lucky in Love would have helped.

I’d have also liked to see more awareness of and consistency in the conflict between her activism and her wealth. It kind of undercuts the significance of her activism when you realise that she’s wealthy enough to make these choices with little cost to herself; it’s much easier to go vegan or buy renewable/ recyclable /sustainable /fair-trade when price isn’t an issue, especially if you also have serving staff to offset the time cost. Once you notice this it makes her activism feel more tokenistic, and also like she doesn’t really understand her own privilege when she tries to push her agendas onto the school/ her classmates without considering why they mightn’t be able to do so as easily. It’s also weird because the source of her family’s wealth is a cellophane-toothpick-wrapper (i.e. something that basically produces litter) but she still seems very comfortable enjoying the material benefits despite her pro-eco anti-consumerism sentiments. It’s bizarre that she’s more concerned with the social consequence of ‘fake friends’ than the ethics of capitalism. It can come off a bit “do as I say, not as I do”.

It would have been nice for the show to give more screen time to reinforcing that Sam is aware of that conflict and is making an active effort to hold to her principles even at the cost of personal comfort; maybe showing some unease at the source of her wealth, trying to live below her means and only spend up on ethical/ eco-friendly/ sustainable products, op-shopping or hand-making her goth accessories, going out of her way to re-use or re-purpose things even if buying a new one would be ‘better’, actually showing or referencing her doing substantial hands-on activities (e.g. going off-screen or taking the boys to do tree-planting, litter pickups, soup kitchens, animal-shelter work etc). Just something to help make it clearer that she genuinely cares and isn’t just doing the low-mess lip-service activities because she enjoys indulging in the image of Wokeness™.

These things would have helped regardless of how her family was written but let’s hop back on topic and talk about them. I don’t have any prescriptive preference but let’s spitball a few different options and how they could have played:

#1 Sam’s parents don’t respect her interests and want her to fit a mold

In this case I’d make it that they don’t really pay attention or show much caring for who Sam really is as a person; their image of and interactions with her are more of a fantasised version of the ‘perfect’ daughter they want, they make very little effort to encourage her actual interests and are perhaps restrictive about what they let her do in the few moments when they do bother paying close attention (you might compare to some versions of Tim Drake’s Parents from DC Comics). Classist, overly image-conscious, snobby and superficial.

This would be the most sympathetic portrayal of her character without changing it very far from how it is in DP canon - helping contextualise why Sam is so fiercely defensive of her autonomy, why she pushes so hard when trying to get her opinions across and why she’s so judgemental of rich people and disdainful towards classic femininity - even possibly explaining her more hypocritical/ manipulative/ entitled traits as learned behaviours. It would also give her more legitimate reason to be less empathetic towards others - after all even if they have struggles and family troubles it’s still better than what she’s dealing with (Danny’s parents may not be attentive but hey, at least they love him for himself, right?)

For this version I’d probably put her arc around growing past the “suffering olympics” model of viewing other people’s pain, but also in her finding family in Danny/Tucker/her Grandmother’s circle of connections, learning how to have healthy power-balance and communication in her relationships with others (aka: getting over her hypocrisy and realising that assertiveness is about communicating that “I matter, and so do you”) and pulling away from her parents’ influence - maybe even living with Ida a lot of the time.

#2 Sam’s parents are well-intentioned but overbearing

For this one, Sam’s parents would genuinely want the best for her… only they have an overly old-fashioned and restrictive view of what “the best” is and are a bit set-in-their-ways. They’d probably view “hippies” and “goth” stuff as “dangerously rebellious hooligan-activities” and likely to be somewhat patronising about Sam’s passion for it being “just a phase”. They’d be worried about her hanging around “the Fenton Kid” and “the Foley Kid” both because Danny’s parents are kind of irresponsible screwballs about safety but also because they put a lot of value in image due to their belief in social connections being the way to get ahead. Them pushing Sam towards classic femininity and specific activities would be less about disrespecting her identity and more about their overly narrow view of “success” and worrying that she’s going to end up losing valuable opportunities and “wasting her life” if she keeps on down her current path.

This would still give Sam more sympathetic context for her views on femininity and pushiness about self-expression.

Personally I think the arc I’d like to see here is one themed around responsible/considerate assertiveness and valuing alternative perspectives. Sam coming to realise her own hypocrisy - that she can’t push her views onto others while complaining about her parents doing the same - developing more sympathy for Danny as she realises that he’s in a similar position with Jack’s insistence that he’ll inherent Fentonworks and his parents’ narrow-mindedness about ghosts, interacting with other girls and seeing their perspective, learning how to assert her opinion while making allowances for others’ (maybe an alternative version where she connects with Star in Lucky in Love and, after Aragon’s defeat in Beauty Marked, Sam still says she personally thinks it’s dumb but then steps down and lets Star win because she understands that Star values it), and getting her Grandma’s help in convincing her parents to widen their perspective while still responding to their concerns.

(This one has the overall kindest message and I think I like it best).

#3 Sam’s parents are trying and Sam’s actually the problem

This one is the one that’s the least sympathetic to Sam. Her parents still don’t get the Goth/Activist thing and they have some concerns about safety but they understand that it makes her happy and they’re okay with it so long as she’s not getting into trouble or mixing up with anyone that could hurt her. Them pushing her towards more feminine/optimistic things is less pushing and more trying to encourage some hobbies that offer a bit more common ground. They might have reservations, and they might not always have time, but they would like to be part of their daughter’s life… except for the problem that Sam has wrapped herself up in a teen-drama persecution complex and got it into her head that they “won’t accept her” are “pushing her to be someone else” and “don’t understand” so there’s no point even trying to explain or connect. In this one Ida isn’t taking sides on purpose but she ends up accidentally enabling Sam a little because Sam reminds her of her younger days and she likes spoiling her granddaughter (and doesn’t much care for her daughter-in-law).

In this case Sam’s flaws would be framed much more as flaws born of her making superficial snap judgements, thinking she knows better and being too proud to admit she’s wrong. There would definitely be moments of her coming across as an entitled, privileged holier-than-thou brat who invents problems because she likes feeling sorry for herself, especially early in her arc.

This version of the story would go the hardest on Sam with the general lesson being “you need to respect that other people are people who have their own problems, feelings and needs that are as real and valid as yours”. She’d still have good qualities and Danny and Tucker would still obviously like and value her but there’d also be times of strain where they don’t want to hurt her feelings but are clearly getting worn out with the nonsense. At its worst, maybe a “you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but a lot of you is…a lot” type confrontation.

I’d also give the secondary cast the most fleshing out, agency and sympathetic-ness here, and have beats where Sam has to realise that they’re lot more complex than her 2D stereotyped view of them and are dealing with actual serious problems to which hers are largely non-issues by comparison. I’d probably play Dash and Paulina similar to in the fic Alibi (go read it, it’s good) - Dash being gay and performing aggression because toxic masculinity, insecurity, and being terrified of anyone outside the A-listers finding out (still not okay that he’s a bully but at least more understandable), while Paulina is hiding high emotional perceptiveness behind her pretty face and deliberately bearding for him to keep bigoted parents/ teachers off his back. I’d also probably have a subplot in an alternate Life Lessons where Sam follows Valerie around because jealous/possessive and, like Danny, ends up realising that she’s working two jobs to help her Dad with their financial problems. Basically she’d be getting hit with the Reality Stick a lot.

There’d also be more instances of Sam getting directly called out by the other girls. Fleshing them out as people and showing that their dislike is less superficiality and more because she unfairly judges and antagonises them all the time. Giving them more agency in Beauty Marked and have them be direct about “we know you’re just here to be smug about how much ‘Better’ you are but have you considered that we’re doing this for ourselves and actually enjoy it?”. Having Paulina be less “tee hee I am indeed a Witch” in Parental Bonding and more “Ugh fine, fine, I don’t really like him that much but you were being so obviously Jealous and Judge-y and I figured if I played a little you might actually step up. But fine, if you’re sure. Here’s your necklace back, I’ll let your dorky ‘friend’ down tomorrow. But pro-tip? You like someone you gotta go for it - otherwise don’t complain when your boy-toy gets taken by someone who actually means it.” (Still petty, but emotionally intelligent pettiness, which… not really much better, but at least more interesting.) A lot more of Sam realising that she’s not a particularly good feminist and that she’s no more entitled to Danny’s affections than anyone else.

To be honest, while I could say the most about this version and there’s a lot of potential drama there it’s the one I like the least because it means canonising my least favourite proto-abusive bad-faith narcissistic reading of Sam, casting her as an almost-villain and essentially punishing her over and over until she character develops into a decent human being. Sure it’s an important message about how you treat others but it’s not a very nice or kind story and while there might be the odd fic that makes it cathartic I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

Again, if I had to pick, I’d probably go with something like #2.

But there we go. Another thrilling instalment in the “overly long posts about Sam Manson” saga.

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by!

#Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Character Analysis #Storytelling suggestions #the mustard quote is from John Green's Turtles All The Way Down BTW (haven't read but heard it and thought it was a good turn of phrase)#there was so much potential in this show #they were really not good at writing girls in particular #cw: mentions of abuse #cw: sexism discussed #anonymous #3WD Answers

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fly-pow-bye · 5 years ago

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DuckTales 2017 - “Challenge of the Senior Junior Woodchucks!”

Story by: Francisco Angones, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow

Written by: Madison Bateman and Francisco Angones

Storyboard by: Stephanie Gonzaga, Krystal Uretra, Brandon Warren

Directed by: Matthew Humphreys

The big return we all waited for.

Apologies for anyone expecting any ThunderCats 1985 today, because my new main show is back, and I have priorities. Maybe I'll go back to ThunderCats 1985 if people really want it, but for right now, new DuckTales, woo-oo.

This brand new season starts with a Woodchuck graduation ceremony, where Scoutmaster McQuack reads a speech about how the Woodchuck's teachings mix the knowledge of the old and the discoveries of the new, and how he should not read the directions on what painting to point to. In this ceremony, the Junior Junior Woodchucks become Junior Woodchucks, the Junior Woodchucks become the Senior Junior Woodchucks, and one particular Senior Junior Woodchuck will get the highest rank a Woodchuck could have: a Senior Woodchuck. One particular Senior Junior Woodchuck is ready to receive that honor, as he managed to memorize the speech to the point where he can lip sync Launchpad's lines.

Launchpad slowly introduces this would be as a close personal friend, which signals to me that the question isn't how Huey is going to accept this honor, but what unexpected person ends up being the candidate instead.

As expected, this star candidate is a different person than Huey thought it would be, as he slowly inches backward, and that candidate is...Violet! I can imagine some pushback for this twist, as even Huey questions how Violet would be a star candidate if she never been to any Woodchuck Jamborees. Huey has always seen himself as the greatest Junior Woodchuck since the beginning of the show, and now this relatively new character that barely did anything special and was mostly just Webby 2 is now going to usurp Huey's throne?

Well, not really. It turns out, Huey ends up being the second star candidate, though Launchpad only seems to know him as Dewey's brother. The Scoutmaster declares that the two candidates must race in the Junior Woodchuck Wilderness Challenge! The crowd cheers the favorite's name, and unfortunately for Huey, it's not him. Everyone loves Violet!

Going away from that for a bit, we have to talk about the theme song, as Season 3, much like Season 2, has a twist on the opening theme. Aside from having to shorten it for this episode, Della Duck appears along with her family now. Now that she's established herself as a character in this series, and not just a shocking plot twist, it's only fitting she appears now. Hopefully we’ll get to see where she fits in the full opening if this season ever has it.

As Huey ponders about his existence as only being the second choice for being a Senior Woodchuck, Scrooge looks fondly at the same painting Launchpad was told to point to. Louie knows where this is going.

Louie: Cute story about Scrooge as a lad in three, two, one...

That painting is of legendary explorer Isabella Finch, and Scrooge read a collection of her adventures as a wee lad. This even includes some more of those well drawn Golden Book-esque illustrations of him as a kid reading her book and Finch herself proving her legendary status. She was a legend even to Scrooge McDuck, a legend in his own right, and Scrooge says that her legacy should be respected. He shows this by grabbing the map she was holding in it, shocking everyone in the room.

He calms down the kids by saying she totally meant for someone to grab that hidden map right from the painting. He just wants to respect her legacy by finding a treasure she decided to hide. This leads to a B plot, which I will talk about later.

Back to the A plot, the big challenge is described: race to each trail marker, put their flag on them, and survive with the help with their knowledge of the Woodchucks until they reach the final marker on the mountain's peak. Whoever gets their flag on the last trail marker wins the coveted Senior Woodchuck status. There is another stipulation that really hits Huey hard: it's not an open-book challenge, as McQuack already confiscated it earlier. This does add to the tension: he always carried the Woodchuck Guidebook with him and consulted its guidance, but can Huey pass a test without its help?

Huey seems to think so, as he was born ready for this. At least, that's what he tells himself and his opponent, and Violet isn't exactly swayed by this. In fact, she says that he is as ready as a helpless baby. Lena told her that friendly smack-talk is good for competition. Huey, remembering his sportsmanship, doesn't take the insult and instead holds out his hand for a handshake to start this friendly competition. They don't quite get that handshake going before Scoutmaster McQuack blows his airhorn, and that might be some foreshadowing.

As the race begins, Scrooge, Donald, Della, and the kids that are not named Huey go out in an expedition for the hidden treasure of Isabella Finch. Unfortunately for Scrooge, this dancing, whistling bird keeps popping up with a distracting song that Dewey can't help but dance to. Scrooge is annoyed by the bird, as much as everyone else thinks the bird is the word. No, they didn't license that song, thankfully.

That's really it for B plot, to be honest. There is a good amount of convergence of the two plots throughout this episode, but it doesn't really amount to much until the very end. It wasn’t that I was dreading these scenes, as there are some good moments here and there, but otherwise, eh.

Huey ends up thinking, only to find that not only has Violet managed to get to the first marker, and not only did Violet have enough time to write Huey a letter saying that if he's holding the letter, he's in second place, she even stood on by to ask Huey if that was good smack talk. Huey is angered by this, and throws the crumpled up letter to the ground...which he then has to pick up, because littering the environment is not what a Boy Scout should do. It is easy to notice Huey isn't doing very well at this without his almighty guidebook, and this is taking a toll even on his ability to be a good Woodchuck.

The obstacle before the next trail marker is rain. Not just any rain either, but the Lightning Rain of Chimpopo, as described by Scrooge in the B plot. That's the convergence; since they're exploring the same ground, it only makes sense that they go through the same obstacles and deal with them in different ways. Also, Chimpopo? Not the first thing I thought I heard, as someone who watched South Park.

Huey does run across some rubber plant, which would help him with this lightning rain, but he struggles to get it off of the ground. Violet, who already has a makeshift helmet, even helps him out by telling him to. She doesn't really have an understanding of how competitions or sick burns work, and Huey is losing his understanding of how to be a good sport and how to survive in the wilderness, as he eventually gets lost. If only there was some sort of guidebook somewhere else, not necessarily a literal guidebook...

...but the guidebook that rests in his own mind. It even talks, calling himself J.W. Guidebook, and giving him helpful hints like putting a stick in the ground and following the sun via that stick's shadow. With that imaginary guidebook that represents his inner knowledge after studying the book for so long, nothing can stop him now.

Then a bear shows up. Once again, a regular bear. I wonder if their existence is going to come up when Baloo makes his appearance. Hey, it's not a spoiler if he appeared on the poster. Anyway, he ends up using rope to climb a nearby tree, knowing that Violet wouldn't figure that one out.

Of course, she did figure that one out, though this time he managed to do it at the same time. Violet calms him down with another bit of trash talk, courtesy of her friend Lena.

Violet: If it makes you feel better, Lena told me "first is the worst and second is the best." Though, factually that's wrong by any metr...iiiick! (branch breaks)

Thankfully for her, she lands on a different branch, one that happened to have a beehive that she can chop off the tree and cause the bear to run away. Is that really a Junior Woodchuck thing to do, though? It's not like they're cutting down trees, but this seems pretty bad for the bees. It solves the problem anyway, so who cares.

Unfortunately, she does get stuck on that branch, as there's no branch nearby to rope to. According to J.W., this is a perfect chance for Huey to prove his memorization of the Woodchuck rules, as "Me Rule 17" states that a Woodchuck looks out for their fellow Woodchucks.

Unfortunately, following the guidebook's guidance is nothing compared to his unwillingness to let Violet take his throne as the nerdiest of the nerds, as Louie put it, and he decides to leave Violet behind. Huey finds out that Violet is able to find a way up the tree without his help, using a woodpecker, so it's totally fine. Right from this scene, I could already tell how this flag race was going to end.

I may not have expected this, though. The final trial marker on top of the mountain is behind a bridge over a volcano. Okay, is this the Junior Woodchucks, or this is Battle Royale? I could believe that the lightning rain or potential bear attacks were not planned, and the Woodchucks were supposed to be prepared for this, but putting a rickety bridge over lava as the final test? Makes me wonder if Launchpad has something to hide.

After getting a guilt trip from his own head-book, Huey decides not to test the bridge to see if it would even hold up his weight. Sure, it's only been roasting over a volcano for the last however many years this challenge existed, but time is of the essence!

Sure enough, Huey's lack of preparedness leads to his literal downfall. Wow, what a way to start the season. Not only is Violet going to be the new Senior Woodchuck, I guess Violet has to be the new Huey too.

No, they reveal after the commercial break that of course Huey survives, hanging off of the bridge. Angones did promise someone was going to die, and this episode does deliver on that, but it wasn't going to be Huey. Watch the episode if you want to find out about that.

Huey has to show off by using the rope he had earlier as a tightrope. Wow, it really is the Eliminator from the Simpsons, except that was only over a bunch of thorns!

They at the very least know what convection currents are, as Violet ends up using them to power a makeshift hang-glider. Also, Huey has to dodge some fire, which would be perfect inspiration for a video game level. Eventually, even when he finally decides to do the same formation Lisa did with that very similar obstacle in an outright evil military school, Huey slips off. Is this the end?

Of course not. Violet ends up saving Huey, reminding him of the Junior Woodchuck rule to always help out their fellow woodchucks. As Huey realizes, that was a rule that he ignored, and he sees himself as someone who isn't a true Woodchuck unlike Violet. He almost considers throwing his Junior Woodchuck sash in the lava. Thankfully, he was convinced not to do that by Violet. How? By telling him throwing away your former achievements is kind of silly?

One thing that convinces Huey is that there happens to be a "failure" Junior Woodchuck badge, and she got at least one of them. She says she had failed many times before now, and with those failures, she has learned to be the best. It's a little bit less than winning the whole thing, but he accepts the fate anyway, as his guilt wouldn't let him put the flag on. That badge is not nearly as random as it seems; being able to accept failure is a virtue, and that's something Huey gets to learn.

As he lets Violet put the flag on the final trail marker, the little section in the middle of the volcano lowers into a cavern, where Scoutmaster Launchpad is ready to divvy out the award. I was almost expecting a twist where they reveal the volcano wasn't real. I guess that wouldn't explain the lightning rain, though. Or the actual convection currents that were coming off of it. We don't really get that.

Huey accepts his failure badge from Scoutmaster McQuack, coming right from his own sash which even has a compartment of the many, many times he has failed, and Violet becomes the new Senior Woodchuck. Della Duck isn't too happy that her son didn't get the big prize of the episode, and has to be calmed down. After having to experience lightning rain and bears, I couldn't blame her. In the end, everyone is happy.

Proud of this achievement are two characters that, almost like a certain ogre cop from a recent Disney movie, say absolutely nothing and can easily be removed from the scene with no harm done to the plot. It is a shame that Disney couldn't go any further with the LGBT representation without having to gut the entire episode for other countries, but I'll take anything we can get at this point.

It turns out that, by accepting the annoying bird, it led them right to the treasure they were looking for, much to Scrooge's delight and slight confusion! What was the treasure? All I can say is that we end with a tease that is basically the same as the tease from the last episode, though it comes with essentially a preview of what's to come. Watch the episode for more details on that.

How does it stack up?

There's really nothing wrong with this episode. Despite giving me a feeling in the beginning of the episode, it didn't make me hate Webby 2, er, Violet. Honestly, considering this season was teased to be the "Huey gets to learn something" season, it's not a bad opener to start with. It's just not extraordinary.

Same deal with the ThunderCats reviews: DuckTales 2017 will get the out of 5 rating system as well. I'm tired of giving "low happies" and "low neutrals", they're 4s and 2s, respectively. Meet the new rating system, where I rate 1 to 5 Scrooges. Remember: I do rate on a relative scale, and DuckTales, along with the legacy of the Disney Ducks, is usually good. This one is merely a 3.

Next, TGIF. Or, TGIS, in this case.

← Moonvasion! 🦆 Quack Pack! →

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #disney #fpb reviews #fpb dt 2017

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andrina-the-amazingsupergenius · 5 years ago

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When in Blackpool, the Las Vegas of England || Rowdy and Randy

Summary: Andrina gets the best idea for a joke she’s ever had.

@n0ttinghamshad0w

ANDRINA Andrina was in Blackpool, bitches! How did she get here? She didn’t know. It was one of those Andy-spirals that started off as a joke, then turned into a dare, then turned into a promise, then turned into a swear. She’d just been closing up shoppe in Whosits and Whatsits, checking on their stash. She’d just put on some music– Highway to Hell by AC/DC. She just pretended to play air guitar, just fell into Rob’s arms, just made out with him a little on top of Attina’s desk, when the words road trip fell out of her lips. Wouldn’t it be so funny? she’d said. And maybe Rob said something about there being a couple of buyers who might be interested in Cruella’s finest. And couldn’t they be there, and back again, before anyone knew it? And no she wasn’t drunk, when she started the trip, coasting along in the Whosits van. And she wasn’t drunk when they got to Blackpool either, after midnight, and found the downtown alive and throbbing, bleeding light like a wound. And she wasn’t drunk when she had sex with Rob in the loo of an old arcade, after completely kicking his arse at Pacman, his hair in one of her hands, her raffle tickets in the other. She was, actually, just polishing off a cocktail when they started playing Blackjack. She was, maybe, getting a little tipsy, and a little handsy, as she watched Rob count cards and get away with it. By the time they left, it was 3 in the morning and they were a few hundred quid richer. Andrina’s fingers were caressing the nape of Rob’s neck and she was thinking about fucking him again. That’s when the sweet voice of Freddie Mercury caught her pinball eyes. She turned her head to the sweet rock music of Don’t Stop Me Now, and out of nowhere, Andy started laughing. “Hey, you know what would be so funny?” Andy said, sliding her hand down Rob’s spine. She sipped at the vanilla milkshake she’d just bought cheap outta a McDonalds, and her eyes glinted when she met Rob’s own. “If we got married here.”

ROB This was the closest he’d been to home in ‘bout two years now. ‘Course they weren’t even that close, mind you. ‘Course Rob wasn’t supposed to be thinkin’ of Nottingham as home. ‘Course Rob was supposed to have left Swynlake soon as the Davis job was over, find Tuck and Martin and Jo once again. Funny how plans change. Here he was now, pockets full of money he’d won and he’d whispered in Andrina’s ear that maybe they should consider a career in gamblin’ instead — she’d make a mad good poker pro, if he had to guess. Briefly, he entertained travelin’ the world, goin’ to casinos in Monaco and Las Vegas, places glitzier and more glamorous than lil’ Blackpool — his head spinnin’ with possibilities, with thoughts of suave suits and sparkly dresses and then Andrina spoke. He let out a laugh. That was the furthest thing from what he was thinkin’ right now really and so amused was he that he near scooped her up and planted a kiss right on her mouth. “Imagine the two of us gettin’ married at all,” he said, leanin’ over to take a sip of her milkshake. And ‘cuz it was a dumb joke by Andrina, he went along with it, of course, ‘cuz that’s what the two of ‘em did. It was sorta like a game. Well it was really a game — sometimes against one another, sometimes on the same team. The only rule, really, was that they had fun. And Rob did like havin’ fun. “Here’s how it’ll go,” he said with a grin. “I’ll knock the rings off a vacationin’ couples hand — a rich one, mind you, only the best for my betrothed. And you’ll sweet talk a dress from a shop clerk who’s sweet on you, not even a dress maybe just a veil or somethin’. And we’d have to get married by that bloke over there — “ Rob pointed at the Freddie Mercury impersonator. “‘Cuz it’s not real love unless it’s sung by Freddie, you know.”

ANDRINA She loved this game. Andrina actually loved a lot of things. She once thought that wasn’t the case-- that she was sort of a heartless monster (lol) and the love gene had skipped her. But since she’d started stealing things, Andrina realized that her love gene was just different. Maybe she didn’t have one or two hobbies-- maybe she had a whole bucket-full, and that was okay. Maybe she didn’t want to go on dates or get a boyfriend and maybe she really was going to be Wine Aunt. But that wasn’t failure. She wasn’t heartless. Andrina loved nights that ended in a completely different place than they began. She loved the chaos of her room, its pieces always spread out like she was a magpie with her nest in constant creation. She hated working the counter at Whosits, but she loved sorting through the boxes of donations. She loved playing dress-up; she loved sex in public places; she loved getting in the Andrina-Zone between the hours of midnight and 4 in the morning, where the world was quiet and it zeroed in to whatever weirdo project she was working on. Those hours were Andrina at her most exhilarated, creative, blissed out. She stumbled into bed exhausted and happy as if she’d had the best sex in her life, though Andrina would tell you it was always better than sex. She didn’t understand the thrill her sisters got from crushing on this or that person or the dreams they had about husbands, wives, kids-- even empires. But she knew what it meant to love. She didn’t think she loved Rob, but she loved the type of life he gave her. She loved that he never pushed her into stupid boxes. She loved every night like this one. It was between the hours of midnight and 4. The Andrina-Zone. Her favourite hours. So maybe that’s what made that particular, stupid box appeal on that night. Because it wasn’t just a box, it was a story. Rob told it so well, Andrina’s heart was suddenly pounding, she wanted to know more. “Ooooo, the height of romance-- why, I do declare, Mr. Gardner, if I won’t just marry you right on the spot.” Andrina affected her voice into the buttery accent of a Hollywood movie star. She cooed. “I want a rock as big as the moon, Mr. Gardner! Will you steal me the moon?” She batted her eyelashes at him. She giggled but then her eyes flashed and she was Andrina again. “I dare you. Hey, whoever gets back to the chapel first wins a prize!”

ROB The game was on. Rob tugged Andrina’s hand to his lips, pressing a fresh milkshake sticky kiss to the back of her hand, and then dropped it, giving a two-fingered salute as he backed away. “Prize to be determined by winner — starting now!” And off he dashed. Sometimes, if he really wanted to get thinkin’ about things, Rob realized he was turnin’ 30 this year, which never seemed like an age he’d even get to, really. He figured he’d be caught by then, figured that like many of the blokes he’d grown up with, he’d be lost to drugs or to the cops ‘cuz of somethin’ else. But he was lucky — he was lucky and hey, he dinnit know the makeup of his DNA, but he looked enough like everyone else to get by. And he was very good at what he did and so here he was, almost 30, older than he thought he’d ever turn and still just as wild as he was at 18. Well, he was more careful now. Dinnit draw attention to himself. Dinnit get into fights. Instead, he slipped into crowded casinos and bars and he looked for couples sloshed outta their minds. Rings were tricky little buggers. Try a wrong hand, with someone whose ring was just tight enough, and you were easily caught. Rob waited a lil by the bar, orderin’ a drink and keepin’ an eye out for easy marks. For the bloke — he spotted an older fella, sittin’ with a girl who had to be at least half his age. On his left hand, a wedding band. Rob kept his eye trained on this fella, ‘cuz he knew at one point this man’d slip his ring into his pocket, feelin’ too guilty about flirting with the pretty young bird with the reminder of a wife at home. This happened quicker than Rob anticipated, which dinnit make him feel at all bad, as he brushed past and slipped his hand in the man’s jacket pocket and secured the gold ring. It was more varied with stealin’ a women’s ring. He could check the loo, see if anyone forget their ring as they washed their hands. He could hope that there was a gal who had a similar mindset as that old bloke. But really, the best bet in a place like this was to find a bird who was too skinny, too jittery, wearing fancy clothes and with pristine skin — someone drunk enough to say yes to a dance and not notice if in grabbin’ her hand, Rob slipped off her ring. He spotted a bird like that, and just his luck, it was someone at a Hen party — not the bride, but another gal and everyone at Hen parties, ‘specially Hen parties thrown by rich women, wanted to dance with fit scrappy blokes. The girl in question was blonde and had massive fake tits and plump fake lips and before Rob asked her to dance, he heard her talking loudly to her friends about sendin’ back her meals last night at dinner and how she had to fire her last chauffeur for takin’ time off to see his newborn baby. So yeah, he dinnit feel bad as he snagged the large diamond off her ring finger. She was so distracted by the fact he was whisperin’ some dumb sexy thing into her ear that she barely noticed. Rings secured, Rob bolted back out into the night, racing to the chapel as fast as he could. He saw Andrina right across from him, ‘bout the same distance away, and then grit his teeth and ran the remaining distance.

ANDRINA Andrina loved games, but she loved winning more. So as Rob pulled away, she was already laughing, her victory a bright spark in each eye. They hadn’t established any rules, which meant that Andrina could cheat if she wanted. And duh, she wanted. Cheating never cheapened a victory; it sweetened it, reminding Andrina that she was clever, and she loved being clever. And without Rob around to curb the worst of her impulses, she’d give into them. So Andrina didn’t bother to race off into the city, to find some shoppe with its lights still on. She knew how this worked. She’d seen movies and TV and stuff (wasn’t life just like movies and TV and stuff?) Andrina slurped at her milkshake and strided toward the very chapel they were supposed to meet at. She walked right in and up to the desk. “Hey, do you guys do, like, bridal veils and dress rentals and stuff?” she asked the man working at the counter. The man started at the desk, looking up from his phone. His eyes were bloodshot. Ooooooh he was high as fuck. “And by stuff, I also mean weed, you have any of that too?” “Wh--” “I’m kidding! Kind of. I am if you are,” Andrina flashed a smile and leaned over the desk, showing off her cleavage. “We...are a wedding chapel,” the man stated very slowly. He licked his lips. “We do have uh, tuxes and dresses available with some of our packages, listed here in the brochure…” “Here’s the thing,” Andrina said and she leaned in even closer. “I sort of have a bet with a friend. Can I like, just borrow it?” “Uh.” “I’ll give you the rest of my milkshake,” Andrina sang, giving it a shake. She tilted her head and grinned. “And I won’t tell your manager you groped me.” The man’s jaw went slack. Ten and a half minutes later, Andrina was outside, dressed in a cheap wedding dress, with a joint between her teeth for good measure. “I WIN!” she shouted toward Rob. “By all means, take your time! Maybe I’ll just marry my new friend, Earl!”

ROB “Ah, fuck,” said Rob, but he smiled and sprinted the last bit of the way. Reachin’ into his pocket, he pulled out the ring, and as he reached Andrina, he more or less crash landed onto one knee, holdin’ out that big, obnoxious rock that he’d swiped. “Andrina Genieve Triton,” said Rob, voice all serious, as he held out the ring. “Will you do me the honor of marryin’ me?” This was a grand game — a grand joke, yeah? Imagine scrappy Robin Hunt from Nottingham ever getin’ married. ‘Course it would be somewhere like this busted wedding chapel in Blackpool, with rings he stole. When he’d thought of marriage in the past, it seemed like somethin’ impossible: Rob was not a man who wore stuffy suits in a proper church and said bullshit lines in front of a priest. That’s what most girls wanted — maybe not a church, but a country club. Maybe not a priest, but a speech from their fathers, a best man and all that bullshit. Andrina dinnit though. Andrina had a bloody joint in her mouth now and the wedding dress she wore looked like a Halloween costume with its gaudy jewels and plunging neckline. She looked like the best goddamn thing he’d seen in his life. “Well whaddya say?” said Rob, still on one knee.

ANDRINA: The ring was gorgeous. Also, really ugly. It was both these things at the same time, and Andrina’s eyes widened at the sight of it, before she burst into laughter. Of all the ridiculous things that Andrina had ever done in her whole life-- this was the most ridiculous. A spontaneous trip to Blackpool! Gambling, sex in the bathroom, milkshakes, Earl, a costume wedding dress! And now she was looking at some kind of Kardashian mistake of a ring-- she had no idea if any of those stones were real, because they were the kind of thing that looked so shiny and over-the-top you had to second-guess, but also maybe it was real, and Rob held in his hand more money than any of them had ever had in their bank accounts combined (and that was saying something for Andrina, Daddy’s Little Princess). And here he was, offering it to her. And was he serious? Suddenly, Andrina didn’t know. Suddenly, she was looking down at the only boy who had never asked her to be anything that she wasn’t, and he was wearing that smile of his-- one that looked like he was always hiding the best part of an inside joke. She wanted to kiss that mouth. Andrina wondered if that meant she was in love with him. She wondered it, and nothing moved inside of her. No big firework moment-- but none of the cold, clammy fear either, that had always taken her by the neck and never let her go. She could marry this person and she didn’t think it would change anything, besides the fact that she’d have this massive, ugly ring to wave in people’s faces. Also, she could call herself Mrs. Gardner in an affected posh accent, which was always fun. Mrs. Andrina Gardner. Or Mrs. Andrina Hunt, or whatever. “I think I dared you first, that’s what I say,” Andrina declared. She grinned. She yanked up Rob by his collar, took the cigar out of her mouth, and planted a kiss on his lips, dirty and greedy and still tasting a little bit like milkshake. When it broke, she stuck the cigar in Rob’s mouth, took the ring, and slid it on her hand. She fanned it in front of her face. “I’ll do it if you’ll do it,” she said. And that was definitely a yes in Andrina-speak.

ROB Hell, they’d come this far and Rob wasn’t about to back out now. Did he want to get married? He dinnit know. Getting married was somethin’ he’d just never thought about. When Andrina kissed him though, hard and fast and sticky, he had the quick little thought that if somethin’ ever happened — if he couldn’t kiss her anymore — he’d be missin’ something more than just her lips. Not to say he wanted her to be the only person he kissed from here on out (or vice verse), but just that if he couldn’t kiss her well, then — Look, this was all some complicated stuff to be thinkin’ about when he was supposed to be havin’ the happiest day of his life, yeah? He didn’t answer her directly. Cigar still in his mouth, he grabbed her and lifted her up bridal style and spun around a little, before marching right into the chapel. “Oi!” he said to the greasy-lookin’ bloke at the counter. “We’re here to get married! Where do we do that at?” Determined not to put Andrina down till the moment they were in front of whatever sorta makeshift aisle they had in this horrendous lookin’ building. The greasy bloke grabbed some forms and led them through a door, down to a room dressed up in pink gawdy hearts and flowers and floatin’ lil naked babies. He plopped Andrina down then and extended his arm to her. “Ready?” he asked. There was still a teasin’ look in his eye, of course, but it was coupled with just a bit of seriousness. ‘Cuz here they were, here he was with Andrina wearin’ some trashy rental gown and ring he’d nicked at a nightclub, lookin’ at him like he was a prize she just won at a carnival. He looked at her and he felt… well happy. Ahem. He turned away, shouting at greasy fellow. “Can we get a wedding march here? Or something dancey? I wanna do this proper, mate. Only the best for the love of my life.”

ANDRINA: Rob lifted her up and Andrina squealed, instantly kicking her feet as if she was trying to escape. Rob’s grip was firm though. He had her locked in his arms. Locked down, some might say-- hardy har har, marriage is an oppressive institution that people still willingly entered despite a shitton of sexist comments and attitudes!!!!!!! But Andrina could escape if she wanted. Elbow Rob in the face and give the bugger a nosebleed and call the whole thing off. She’d even laugh it off and make it impossible for Rob to get mad at her. She knew how to play her cuteness as a shield like that. But she didn’t want to escape. She kind of wanted to get married. Why not? It wasn’t permanent. No matter what anyone said, marriage was a checkbox, and Andrina could check it off tonight, and erase it tomorrow. But she wanted to say, at least once, she’d been married. In Blackpool. On a whim. To the love of her life-- or maybe not-- but certainly to a lad she liked more than she’d ever liked any boy. So she struggled only to make this more fun, and if she was playing a part, she was playing damsel, for once. God knows she’d never play that part again. And then it was time, and she clicked down onto her boot heels and flipped her hair. She pretended to sniff snootily and tugged down at her sweater as though she was adjusting some kind of fancy bodice. Then she weaved her arm through Rob’s and waited for the music. The wedding march sounded and Andrina turned to Rob with her Serious (™) face on. “Race you down the aisle,” she said, Seriously. And then she darted down the aisle, yelping as she felt the veil stuck in her hair give way a little. She reached up to secure it, and nearly tripped over the cheap dress. Rob caught her, and then they were laughing again, spinning the rest of the way, to the intolling organs and a bored looking for-hire officiant at the other end. When they arrived, she was out of breath, but grinning. She flashed her ring at the officiant. “Pretty, innit?” “Beautiful,” deadpanned the very bored bloke. She wondered if this place paid more than McDonalds or Starbucks. Hmm, back-up options for a career… “Ahem. We are gathered here today--” “Wait! Rob, play my dad for a second. You gotta give me away.” She said and elbowed him in the side.

ROB “Right, o’course,” said Rob without a moment’s hesitation. He darted back down to the end of the aisle. The rent-a-preacher stared at the both of them. Rob extended his arm out to Andrina and did his very best JEFF Triton impression. “You look beautiful, darling,” he said, making his voice deeper which wasn’t necessarily how JEFF sounded, but it sounded vaguely what Rob imagined fathers to sound like. “I’m so happy that you’ve found someone for you.” He didn’t know what fathers said to daughters on their wedding days, but he imagined it went something like that. Puffing out his chest, he stomped down the aisle as the music played again. The bored pastor, preacher, random official person sighed. “Are you ready now?” he asked. Rob saluted, still pretending to be JEFF, and then took his place as Rob. He clasped his hands together like a groom in a movie, even though he was wearing a Dead Kennedys t-shirt and some old worn jeans, he pretended he was in some fancy tuxedo. “Ahem. So, like I said we are gathered here today to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony...did you wanna do your own vows or just do the ‘for better or worse’ bit?” “Nah I can do my own,” said Rob. He wasn’t about to say some church bullshit. He cleared his throat as the pastor bloke man person went about all the other “Andrina,” said Rob, clearing his throat. “You’re absolutely batshit and I say that as someone who’s too hard to handle for literally every person in the world I've met before. You’re sexy and fun, but you’re also my partner in crime.” A smirk here, ‘cuz that was literal eyooo. “And you know, “ Rob continued, a little more sincere now if you knew what to listen for, but you’d have to really know what to listen for in Rob’s voice. “I don’t think there’s been many girls in my life I’ve wanted to never stop kissin’ but I never wanna stop kissin’ you. I promise I’ll always be down to do something as wild as gettin’ married in this chapel and I promise we’ll never be bored. Or maybe we will be, but we’ll find somethin’. I love you — “ It slipped out and he couldn’t stop now, so he just grinned as he talked hopin’ she’d also find it like a joke (or hopin’, maybe that she didn’t). “And I’d steal a million pounds for you and you know it, babe.” “Lovely,” said the pastor, then turning to Andrina.

ANDRINA: It was a joke as they waltzed down the aisle the second time, Andrina taking long, serious strides, trying to remain smooth-faced. It was a joke as Robbie jumped to the front, smoothed a hand down his front, clasped his hands together. It was a joke as Andrina climbed up to meet him, lifting her chin before sticking out a tongue for a split second before the officiant finished his cliche, scripted speech. It was a joke as Robbie started his vows. But it wasn’t a joke for long. Andrina couldn’t trace where the slippage happened. But Rob’s smirk faded at some point and suddenly she was noticing the color of his eyes, which she’d never noticed before. She was not the type to note shit like that. That was for Tiny and Dell, even Lana to a point. Andrina only cared about how smart a boy was. If she was in the mood, she’d pick a stupid lad to get her off, finding the most embarrassing, neanderthal dirty talk a strange turn on-- like watching shitty porn on purpose. Other times, she picked someone a little wittier, who could keep up with her jabs-- good not just for the fuck, but for the foreplay. Rob was obviously the latter. She loved his mouth, kissed it plenty of times, felt it on her neck, her breasts, between her legs. She liked when he talked and when he didn’t-- when he chuckled, when he smirked, when he sucked on a lolly she nicked for him from the market. But now she was looking in his eyes and her stomach fluttered. Butterflies, for the first time, here on her wedding day. She could blame the wedding for them. Blame her veil and the fake stained glass behind Rob and the big rock on her finger. It was all just an illusion. She didn’t really feel… she didn’t actually… But maybe she did. And suddenly there was a before and an after. There was a split in Andrina’s roads. She saw it clearly, her life behind her-- a life of seven sisters, never enough space, and always drama she was obligated to participate in. She’d leave Blackpool and return to it. The idea crushed her. She was suffocating right here, right now, which is usually how she felt when a boy, any boy, looked her dead in the eye like this and told her that they liked her-- except Rob was doing that right now and all she wanted to do was fling her arms around his neck and beg him to steal her away next. Don’t make her go back to that fucking town, to all those sisters, to her shitty apartment and the dinners she had to show up to like reporting for the army, to her dead-end job, to Attina’s depression. Please, dear god, no. Her marriage was a getaway car. Rob was driving. Andrina was calling shotgun and hopping the fuck in. “I think vows are overrated,” she said. “But I promise that you are the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.” And she looked to the officiant. “Okay, say the thing.” “Oh-- that’s all--?” “Yeah. Chop chop buddy!” Andrina said with a hand wave. “This is the happiest day of my life, helloooooo!” “Er--right. I now pronounce you--” Andrina flung her arms around Rob’s neck and kissed him before he could finish.

ROB Rob kissed Andrina back, picking her up a little and swingin’ her around. And ‘cuz why do this if he didn’t do this the right way, he picked up Andrina’s legs and carried her in his arms, like they were somethin’ out of a movie or somethin’. Ha. Rob Hunt from Nottingham Orphanage never thought he’d be worthy of a movie. Not that this shitty chapel and these stolen rings and this rent-a-pastor were worthy of a movie. They were all shams, hacks, more reflective of Rob, really. But Andrina — Andrina was a real thing, better than any dumb movie endin’ because she had a wicked smile and sometimes in the morning her breath smelled and sometimes in the night she kicked, but she was smart and she never stopped, ever, and the mask Rob wore always somehow disppeared with her. Also she was sexy as fuck. He spun Andrina around a little, givin’ a bit of a woop, the gave her a proper snog. It was sticky and messy, the sort kiss that horny teenagers in the back of a car kissed. And what of it? He couldn’t wait to go back to the van and shag his wife. “Hey, uh, sorry but you’ve got to sign these forms and stuff,” said the rent-a-preacher, holding up some papers. “It’s real quick, I promise. Sorry shoulda done it before but — “ “Yeah, yeah, just bring it here,” said Rob, dropping Andrina down and grabbing the pen to quickly sign because, okay, the primary thing on his mind right now was sex.

ANDRINA: Andrina was also thinking about a car-shag-- a back-of-a-van shag, actually, was more accurate. Her thighs were already trembling, desire as hot as the rest of her blood. If she stepped back from herself, she’d maybe realize it was the adrenaline from what might have been some kind of mental breakdown or dissociative episode. Because, her! Andrina! A wife! Honesty, this was her most brilliant joke yet. Wait until she told her sisters. (This thought instantly led to a short-circuit, and the Nyan Cat Video played on repeat.) First though, right. Paperwork. This was another chance for Andrina to rewind this whole insane episode and decide she wasn’t going to be a wife after all. But Rob grabbed for the pen without hesitating, and fuck if she was going to prove to be a coward in the last ten seconds of the biggest Andrina-prank ever concocted. Plus, she got bragging rights, she supposed, being the first sister to ever marry. That was kind of a fucked up thing to think. But it’s true, went the little voice in her head. As Andrina signed her name with a flourish, something very pleased inside her stretched itself out and started purring. A smile slid across her face. No one thought it’d be you, Andrina. Yeah, maybe this is a mental breakdown. Or maybe you finally found out who you’re supposed to be. “Should I take your name?” Andrina said as she straightened up. She wiggled her veil off so she could plop it on Rob’s head instead, stepping forward to adjust it carefully. “Andrina Gardner. But that isn’t even your real name right? Well, that’s kind of hot. A fake-new last name. Or maybe you can take my last name-- it can be your new fake name. Or like, fake-real name. Rob Triton.” Her eyes moved from the veil down to his own. She smiled. It was her softest smile of the whole night. “What do you think?” ROB Rob had no attachment to his name. He slipped on and off his name like it was a scarf of some sort. Sometimes he forgot Robert Gardner wasn’t a real person; sometimes he forgot Robin Hunt was one. Sometimes, he forgot that once he went by Oliver and also that was his legal middle name. “Well, you can’t marry Robert Gardner ‘cuz he ennit real,” said Rob, cheerfully, tossing the veil over his shoulder. The rent-a-pastor looked massively confused, but Rob paid him no mind. It’s not like this bloke was gonna do a deep investigation into Robert Gardner. That name was so common, Rob had chosen it for a reason. Sometimes Robert Gardner felt more real to him than Robin Hunt. Robin Hunt was a name chosen by a system, a name written on paperwork and run through computers. A name he’d shed because the baggage of being Robin Hunt was too heavy for him to carry. A name he sometimes felt guilty about leaving behind. But he needed to pick up new ones. He had to keep evolving. Stay still and he’d die. He looked at Andrina now, his mouth cocking up into a smile. “But I can marry Andrina Triton. I’ve never had a real name of my own, so I might as well take yours, yeah? I don’t need to be Robert or Robin. Just Rob. Time to reinvent myself — “ He took the paper and signed Rob Triton with a flourish. “There we go — who’d thought you’d make a new, honest man outta me, eh?”

ANDRINA Andrina stared down at Rob Triton and felt something. That something didn’t have any name that she knew. It tickled, and if she thought about it too much, she suspected it might feel a little bit like heartburn. Here’s what she did know: that something made her want to take this piece of paper with Rob Triton written on it, tear it up into pieces, shove it into her mouth, and eat it. That’s how much she loved seeing it written out like that, the idea of not belonging to Rob at all-- but him belonging to her. Instead of giving into her weirdo, paper-cannibalistic desire, she swept up the paper, folded it neatly and then reached under her dress, hiking the whole thing up. She hadn’t taken off her jeans, see. So she could just slip the paper in the back pocket. She let the dress back down and then slipped her arm through Rob’s own. “Okay Mr. Triton. I think we need to consummate our marriage,” she winked at him. The officiant grimaced. “Chill out, we won’t do it here,” Andrina said and giggled. “We have a very on-brand sex van. Let’s make the most of it. Maestro, play the wedding march!” “We don’t really do that on the way down the aisle…” “Nevermind!” Andrina exclaimed and she tugged Rob down anyway-- and together they skipped their way back out into the early hours of a Blackpool morning.

#rowdy and randy #para

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jbuffyangel · 6 years ago

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Undeserved Forgiveness: Arrow 7x18 Review (Lost Canary)

After seven years and 150 episodes (yes, I math’d it) Arrow has finally paid off a L*urel L*ance storyline in a way that makes sense and feels earned.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

Sometimes the Arrow writers are so obtuse about their audience it boggles my mind. Then there are other times when they are so self aware I can’t help but laugh. “Lost Canary” is one of those self aware moment. It’s almost as if the writers said to themselves, “Okay. This episode is gonna be a lot about birds so we better give the audience some Olicity goodies to keep them happy.”

Smart move.

Arrow has to ship the boys off somewhere in order to have their all girls episode. Rene is off with Zoe on a school field trip while Oliver and Diggle try to find the person who killed Emiko’s mother, so they can convince her not to be evil. Or something? I think? It boils down to a interrogation of a Longbow Hunter. Yeah, remember the Longbow Hunters? Who knew they were still a thing? Not me.

It’s kind of fantastic all the guys are stuck with monumentally crappy storylines while the ladies have their moment in the sun. Ah the gloriousness of reversing gender roles.

Anywho, Oliver is going to leave Felicity which means WE GET WORRIED DADDY!

Oliver begs Felicity to take it easy.

Pffft, it’s like he’s never watched Arrow before. Dude, know your genre.

Felicity promises she’s going Netflix and chill. Oh girl, you totes just jinxed it.

And then it happens. Oliver rubs his stomach and says...

Source: olicitygifs

April 15, 2019 will hence forth be known as Precious Cargo Day in the Olicity fandom. We shall drink and sing in merriment while binge watching Olicity moments in celebration of this blessed day. For this is the day fan fiction came to life.

We’re five minutes and twelve seconds into this episode and I already think it’s fantastic.

After Oliver returns from his Longbow Hunter thing (Seriously don’t ask me what happened)

and Felicity returns from saving a soul and giving Earth 2 a hero to fight for them, our wonderfully stable and unproblematic married couple cuddle on the couch. Honestly, I don’t understand why Olicity snuggling and watching Netflix isn’t a hit show? It’s Emmy award winning entertainment.

Source: olicitygifs

Felicity was away from Oliver for a day and she practically ran into her husband’s arms, so I really don’t know how homegirl is gonna do twenty years without him. It hurts to think about, so let’s focus on the happy.

Source: olicitygifs

Oliver wants to order whatever Felicity is craving because he’s determined to be fictional perfection so no one can have realistic expectations of non fictional men. Felicity informs him L*urel is going back to Earth 2. He doesn’t care. I cannot describe to you how much Oliver Queen doesn’t care about any version of L*urel L*ance.

Once again I reflect upon the road we have traveled my friends. I don’t know how we got here, but our destination is glorious.

Worried Daddy is far more concerned that Felicity didn’t take it easy as she promised, but no worries the Green Arrow is here!

Oliver promises to take care of Felicity and then promptly falls asleep on her shoulder because he’s so exhausted.

Yup, that pretty much sums up the first trimester right there. You’re pregnant but you’re husband is the exhausted one.

She finagles a foot rub out of half asleep Oliver and they both collapse. MAX DOMESTICITY ACHIEVED.

Source: olicitygifs

Honestly, the show could have ended right here. I’d be thrilled.

Felicity Smoak and Canary Corp.

Yes, that’s the official title of the episode. Don’t @ me. Arrow has tried this Birds of Prey thing before. Remember Helena, L*urel and Sara in Season 2? Yeah, neither do I and why? BECAUSE IT DIDN’T HAVE FELICITY IN IT. Too bitter?

The Felicity Smoak/Oracle similarities were not lost on the Arrow writers and it’s clear they tried to adopt the moniker for our girl’s codename, but were shot down by the DC brass. Overwatch it is then and, as usual when it comes to Felicity Smoak and Emily Bett Rickards, she has made it her own.

This is Emily’s last season and therefore Arrow’s last chance to do a Birds of Prey themed episode with Felicity Smoak at the helm. Boy, they did not waste the opportunity. Thank goodness too because that would have been a real bummer.

“Lost Canary” is full on girl power. Arrow has many female characters, but the storylines are dominated by the men. It’s not a shocker. The main character is male. The writing staff I believe has been male dominated until a shake up this season. That’s not to say the male writers haven’t crafted a fantastic show with some amazing female characters – Felicity Smoak being at the top of the list. However, this show is long over due for the spotlight to shine on the female characters, actresses and writers.

Representation means hearing the voices of the marginalized, but “Lost Canary” is not simply Arrow ticking a box. Nor did the writers pad the episode with trite and insulting dialogue like...

(I will forever side eye The Flush for that one.)

No, “Lost Canary” is steeped in big life questions as it addresses the season theme of redemption head on. Each character has her own perspective on Bl*ck S*ren and redemption as a whole. Each character is given ample screen time to voice her perspective as the women debate the best way to handle Bl*ck S*ren’s recent downward spiral… or perhaps it’s a stagnant upward spiral. The point is the women are written like the multi faceted characters they are. WOULD WONDERS EVER CEASE?

Let the redemption debate commence.

Source: dcmultiverse

Bl*ck S*ren is back in the evil business. See, you can tell because of the all leather, black lipstick, cloak, tacky techno music and the sashay walk KC ripped off from Nina Dobrev.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

This is what I like to call an “Everything but the kitchen sink” visual trope. Oh hell, the kitchen sink was there too.

Bl*ck S*ren chucks the three piece power suits, with the shoulder pads that can fly her to Hong Kong, in favor of a more diabolical ensemble to convey her inner turmoil. The subtext is pretty much text. Arrow hammering away at it should be a monumentally huge tip off for where Bl*ck S*ren’s character is going.

The surprise isn’t so much where Arrow is going with this character, but rather in how they get there.

Admittedly, I struggled with E1 L*urel L*ance. I couldn’t stand her romance with Oliver, couldn’t keep up with her flip flopping personality, grew tired of her blaming everyone but herself, couldn’t forgive her for Tommy, hated her disdainful treatment of Felicity, and found her to be a insufferable pain in the ass, which she compounded by becoming a drunken, insufferable pain in the ass.

Whew. Season 1 and Season 2 were rough.

I had one bright and shining hope for this character – her Bl*ck C*nary storyline. It was a colossal disappointment.

Not even my deep love for the Lance sisters could save my investment in L*urel and I was overjoyed when Arrow killed her. It remains one of the best creative decisions this show ever made.

Regardless of the reasons for KC’s return (and there are reasons my friends), the writers smartly chose not to resurrect L*urel.

No need to bring back that mess. Instead, they started over with some doppelganger hijinks and crafted Evil L*urel aka Bl*ck S*ren from Earth 2.

It turns out Evil L*urel is a hell of a lot more fun than Saint L*urel. The character plays to KC’s acting strengths and she didn’t impede on Dinah Drake’s storyline as Bl*ck C*nary. Well, not much.

But the dramatic linchpin in Bl*ck S*ren’s character is that she’s not L*urel. Yes, she looks and sounds like the L*urel L*ance Team Arrow loved and lost, but no amount of time would ever make this woman into a replica of the one who died. This is a good thing because the woman Oliver Queen dedicated that ridiculous statue to was a hindrance to the story.

L*urel’s Season 6 arc was infuriating primarily because they reduced a meta human to a helpless victim. The writers shredded Quentin Lance’s character as he pursued his deeply unhealthy obsession with resurrecting his dead daughter through an entirely different human being. Let us never speak of it again.

Season 7 is a vast improvement. The good/evil push/pull remains the dramatic well the writers drink from, but instead of cramming old L*urel down Bl*ck S*ren’s throat they allowed her character to breathe. The fact she was different from L*urel is what made her interesting. Arrow didn’t run from it. They embraced it. And they paired her with an unlikely partner.

Felicity Smoak.

Bl*ck S*ren’s willingness to cross lines, including murder, was a necessary evil because Felicity’s husband was trapped inside the system. She needed help from someone with access and who wouldn’t be afraid to go over the line to get the job done. Suddenly, being evil doppelganger playing pretend lawyer was massive pro.

Bl*ck S*ren’s a sardonic wit and glowering demeanor made the perfect straight woman to Felicity Smoak’s ball of sunshine.

Except, Felicity wasn’t a ball of sunshine and more often than not L*urel was stopping her from going too far.

The two women worked in tandem as they questioned their morality and what defines good and evil. The ebb and flow of light and dark allowed Felicity and L*urel to see each other differently.

This sparked understanding, respect and finally compassion. Their interactions felt more honest than anything that transpired between E1 L*urel and Felicity and as a result their friendship was more believable.

I’ve enjoyed the good/evil/push/pull dynamic that’s made up the majority of Bl*ck S*ren’s arc this season because it was fairly even handed. When L*urel tipped too far in one direction they would shift her the other way. Every time L*urel helped Felicity with Oliver’s case or pulled her back from the ledge, she would follow it up with almost murdering someone.

Bl*ck S*ren’s instinct in almost any given scenario was to kill first and ask questions later. It flew in the face of the straight laced, law abiding DA image she cultivated by stealing E1 L*urel L*ance’s identity. The writers did this deliberately because everything that made Bl*ck S*ren “evil” is still there even as she tried emulating Quentin Lance’s dearly departed L*urel.

But eventually the writers need to pick a lane. Arrow has two choices – keep Bl*ck S*ren evil or redeem her. It’s kind of a like a love triangle. You can play with the back and forth for awhile, but eventually the writers need to make a decision. Otherwise the story loses any emotional authenticity.

The real shock of “Lost Canary” is how the writers present both sides of the argument. It’s so fair and logical. A L*urel L*ance centric episode is making sense. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water.

Dinah and Felicity are diametrically opposed when it comes to who Bl*ck S*ren is and if she can be redeemed. The argument boils down to nature versus nurture, but how Felicity and Dinah arrive at their individual conclusion fits not only within the scope of their own storylines, but within L*urel’s as well.

Dinah is nature. She firmly believes L*urel is an irredeemable killer and all efforts to save her are for naught because a killer is who she is. Dinah issues a warrant for L*urel’s arrest and believes she killed Diaz. I’ve been loudly advocating for some jail time for L*urel, but I didn’t really expect Arrow to go there. I’m not that lucky. A warrant for her arrest and L*urel on the run is close enough.

It’s understandable why Dinah believes Bl*ck S*ren is a lost cause. She witnessed her boyfriend’s murder at L*urel’s hand and a tearful apology doesn’t erase what happened.

Dinah has also been there any time L*urel has decided to murder someone, typically out of frustration, anger or to protect her own self interests. She would pull L*urel back from the ledge, but it’s difficult for her to believe BS was ever on the wagon when she so frequently fell off it.

Dinah is not wrong. L*urel is a murderer. Murder is L*urel’s default position whenever the going is rough, which is exactly what is happening now. Yes, L*urel is wrongly accused of murder, but let us not forget all the murders she did commit and has yet to pay for. Dinah didn’t love Bl*ck S*ren’s approach when it came to interrogating criminals, but the answer to these problems is not a crime spree.

Felicity is nurture. In the beginning, Felicity did not see Bl*ck S*ren as anything but criminal pretending to be her dead friend. She emotionally manipulated people and was reaping all the benefits of E1 L*urel’s life.

But the hubby was in the slammer and Felicity needed a lawyer, fake or real it didn’t matter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. L*urel was one of the only people to have Felicity’s back and their partnership grew into real friendship. Felicity has been the beneficiary of L*urel’s kindness and love, so she knows without a doubt there is good but it needs to be encouraged.

Felicity is so ardent in her belief that she bizarrely blames herself for L*urel’s crime spree because she wasn’t a good enough friend.

Let’s just pretend that’s true for a second (even though it’s not). The max penalty Felicity could incur would be paying for drinks some night. But L*urel tries to blow up Felicity and HER BABY. I feel safe categorizing that as an insane overreaction.

The truth is Felicity has been an amazing friend to L*urel and she continues to be throughout the episode. She proves to Dinah that L*urel has been framed by Emiko for Diaz’s murder. Felicity offers L*urel her support even after she goes on a crime spree.

L*urel: Oliver’s sister did me a favor because I was really sick and tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Plus, no one believed it any way.

Felicity: I did! Look, what happened to you wasn’t fair. You were accused of murder, you lost your job, Dinah didn’t have your back I get it. You got a bucket load of bad news, but you are not Bl*ck S*ren. Not anymore.

L*urel: That’s funny I used to believe that too.

Felicity: Think of the good you’ve done L*urel. Think of honoring Quentin!

L*urel: Quentin is dead. Nobody cares about Quentin. He only wanted his daughter back.

Felicity: That is not true.

Well… far be it from me to disagree with my Queen but it is kind of true. This is a wonderfully impassioned speech even if I don’t agree with all of Felicity’s arguments. Sadly L*urel pretty much spits in Felicity’s face and is generally undeserving of all this support and understanding.

Felicity and Dinah have it out after L*urel tries to blow them up. Felicity continues to blame herself for this Bl*ck S*ren spiral whereas Dinah is firmly entrenched in the “Bl*ck S*ren Is a Murderer” camp. Felicity calls Dinah out on her hypocrisy when she boasts in a fit of moral superiority that she could have gone down the same road as L*urel, but didn’t.

Felicity accurately points out that the reason Dinah didn’t go down the same road was because she had the team. Dinah had friends who loved and supported her even when she didn’t deserve it.

Felicity ain’t wrong! I forgot Dinah is a murderer too. Yes, there is a big difference between murdering bad people versus murdering good people, but it doesn’t change the fact that Dinah has also taken lives.

While we’re on the subject on Vinnie, she also lied to the team about her relationship with him

and went on a crazy revenge bender after Bl*ck S*ren murdered him.

Dinah was in the Newbie tantrum up to her elbows, which included assaulting OTA when they refused to hand over Bl*ck S*ren.

Dinah was forgiven for all of these transgressions and welcomed back to the team with open arms without even apologizing. Now she’s the captain of the police force and a deputized vigilante. All of which would have never happened without Oliver Queen and Team Arrow.

Dinah was forgiven when she didn’t deserve it.

It was the second chance she needed to become someone who is deserving of that forgiveness.

(We can argue the semantics of whether or not Dinah really has become someone worthy of Oliver and Felicity’s love and trust another day. For the sake of this episode let’s just roll with it.)

Dinah continues to argue that even if all of that is true (WHICH IT IS HONEYCAKES) it doesn’t apply to L*urel because she doesn’t want a second chance. She never did. Felicity pushes back once again and argues the opposite. She thinks L*urel wants a second chance more than anyone else and didn’t realize it until it was already gone.

WOW. What a scene. It’s so invigorating to see two female characters argue passionately about something that has nothing to do with a man. This debate is about friendship, faith and forgiveness. It’s about the true meaning of redemption, who deserves it, and who decides who deserves it. Felicity and Dinah are arguing about their fundamental beliefs and challenging one another’s morality.

Source: hollandrooden

Dinah gave L*urel a chance and she blew it, so enough is enough. Felicity feels L*urel was succeeding at that second chance until she was wrongly accused. Sometimes people need several chances to get it right. I completely understand both Dinah and Felicity’s positions, which is how you know it’s a great storyline. If you can see both sides of the coin then the writers are mining drama with serious depth.

Both women are right and both are wrong. We’ve been exploring Bl*ck S*ren’s redemption since Season 5, but “Lost Canary” feels like the first honest conversation being had about it. I understand Dinah’s frustration because they are my frustrations.

I do not believe throwing on a three piece suit, playing lawyer, living someone else’s life and enjoying all the benefits someone else earned qualifies as redemption. Pretending to be E1 L*urel L*ance has protected Bl*ck S*ren from facing justice for any of her crimes. While I appreciate she’s helped put criminals away, freed Oliver Queen, and is a good friend to Felicity Smoak, it does not even out the cosmic scales when compared to the evil she has committed.

Bl*ck S*ren is a murderer. She was coddled by Quentin Lance because she looks like his dead daughter. Felicity reaches out again and again and Bl*ck S*ren continually rejects her love, support and forgiveness. I’ve watched Bl*ck S*ren time and again head out to murder someone as a solution to whatever problem she’s trying to solve. I’ve watched both Dinah and Felicity stop L*urel from committing those murders.

L*urel stopped because she was caught – not because she thinks murder is wrong. She doesn’t express remorse for wanting to kill someone either. She typically has a snippy remark for Dinah and Felicity as she slinks away from the scene of her premeditated murder.

Unfortunately, the writers are treating Bl*ck S*ren’s penchant to murder the same as E1 L*urel’s alcoholism. Felicity and Dinah tell Bl*ck S*ren to put down the drink and convince her to stay on the wagon. But we aren’t talking about booze. Bl*ck S*ren’s addiction is killing people. NOT. THE. SAME. THING. I get it, Dinah. Trust me.

Then there’s Felicity Smoak. She sees the best in Bl*ck S*ren even when she’s at her worst. Primarily because Bl*ck S*ren saw Felicity at her worst and pulled her back from the brink.

Felicity is not a killer because Bl*ck S*ren offered her hope. So, it’s understandable why Felicity refuses to abandon her friend especially now.

But that’s not all of it. Sure, BS was a good friend to Felicity, but that’s not why she is standing by her. The truth is Felicity Smoak is a really good person. She is intensely compassionate, loyal and supportive. Felicity sees the best in people and her ability to pull that light from those she loves is unparalleled. Nearly every character in the Arrowverse has benefited from Felicity’s steadfast encouragement.

I know this aspect of the character often frustrates some people. Some believe Felicity is used to prop up other characters. Her character suffers because she’s constantly launching another superhero.

The fastest way to cultivate a positive fan response to a new character is to filter that character through Felicity Smoak. She represents the audience opinions more often than not. Her popularity has a way of spilling over to problematic characters and it casts them in a more positive light. I don’t deny Arrow employs this practice often.

But I never saw it as a negative. Felicity is the believer. It’s what I love most about her. Diggle is the mind (moral compass) and Oliver is the soul, but Felicity is the heart. She is the hero of heroes.

L*urel L*ance was a wildly problematic character. The writers never quite knew what to do with her and they could never really settle on a personality with a defined set of characteristics.

We never knew what version of L*urel we were going to get week to week.

The writers struggled with her even more after rerouting the central romance away from Laurel to Felicity. Her storylines never seemed to get the necessary focus they required even though it felt like we spent an inordinate amount of time on L*urel. Watching Arrow develop her character was a lot like running in place, as @callistawolf once said.

Her messy history with Oliver also seemed to be the elephant in the room when it came to any friendship with Felicity. There’s never any discussion around the events of the Season 2 finale. Felicity wondered if Oliver’s “I love you” was real and I’m sure L*urel had some questions too.

Did she think it was all a ruse to save her life or did she simply accept that Oliver was really in love with Felicity? It seems like the latter although it’s never actually addressed. If there was any confusion on L*urel’s part I guess 3x01 cleared it up because the only thing on Oliver’s mind was Felicity Megan Smoak.

Arrow likes to pretend L*uriver never happened and it is completely understandable. It’s a bad dream we’d all like to forget,

but L*urel’s central connection to the team remained an ex boyfriend she didn’t like very much. I appreciate the show wanting to define a relationship between Felicity and L*urel outside of Oliver, but ignoring L*urel’s romantic history with him didn’t feel very honest.

Perhaps their friendship would have been more believable if the writers set aside time for L*urel and Felicity to bond outside of Team Arrow, but they didn’t. L*urel just shows up in the foundry and starts barking orders.

Even Felicity questioned their relationship status. Girl, same. They had moments of kindness, but we never saw them work as partners or enjoy each other as friends like Felicity and Bl*ck S*ren.

In fact, one of the most common arguments against L*urel being in the grave was that Felicity would never be that upset because she wasn’t that close to L*urel. HA! A lot of L*urel’s character was built upon telling rather than showing and her friendship with Felicity is one of the many areas the writers made that very frequent mistake.

The writers did not make that same mistake with Bl*ck S*ren. They gave her friendship with Felicity time to develop. They started off as enemies, but as circumstances evolved so did their relationship.

Bizarrely, this is why Bl*ck S*ren’s and Felicity’s friendship feels more honest and earned than anything Felicity had with E1 L*urel L*ance. Bl*ck S*ren’s connection to Team Arrow is through Felicity. She has absolutely nothing to do with Oliver Queen and IT’S FANTASTIC.

The writers tried to connect L*urel through Oliver for four years, but he was never the solution. Felicity is.

Felicity is the solution because she has a big bandwidth when it comes to forgiveness. No one has benefited more from it than Oliver Queen. Murder isn’t a deal breaker for Felicity. She fell in love with Oliver when he was dropping bodies. She barely blinked at Sara’s assassin history. Diggle murdered his own brother and I don’t think Felicity even commented on it. Remember when Roy thought he killed Sara? Who did he tell first? Felicity. She was freaked but calm. Dinah was a murderer and Felicity welcomed her onto the team with open arms. Rene pulled a gun on her and it was totally cool. I mean, sweet mother of Moses she was friends with Curtis Holt and tolerated his mansplaining and misogynistic bullshit, which says it all.

So is it really a shock Felicity is ride or die when it comes to Bl*ck S*ren? No. I identify with Dinah’s frustrations, but recognize Felicity is on the higher road. Simply put, Felicity Smoak is a better person than me. The belief she is giving Bl*ck S*ren is no different than the belief she gave to Oliver or Sara.

So, she’s challenging me as well. I cannot cheer Felicity on when she offers unconditional love to Oliver or Sara or John, but admonish her when she offers the same to L*urel L*ance. Sara was an assassin and I didn’t demand a prison sentence for her.

That said, I see one massive difference between Bl*ck S*ren and Oliver Queen. Oliver was remorseful about his past and crippled with guilt. He didn’t need additional punishment because he was already punishing himself enough. Oliver also spent five years in hell, lost nearly everyone he’s ever loved and is constantly sacrificing his happiness for the greater good.

His redemptive journey is wildly different from Bl*ck S*ren’s. Oliver didn’t get to just toss on a nice suit and call it a day. And he killed bad people!!! So, I maybe I can’t hold Bl*ck S*ren to a higher standard than other characters I love, but I can damn well hold her to the same standard.

So, is L*urel remorseful?

We don’t have to pick between Felicity and Dinah because it is possible to hold L*urel accountable and be compassionate. This is where Sara comes in.

Source: canarygifs

I have been incredibly frustrated with how Arrow has used Sara in the past when she’s come back as a guest star. I’m still ticked she didn’t get a goodbye scene with Quentin. The Sara I know on Legends isn’t always the same on Arrow, but “Lost Canary” is different. The writers give Sara her due and she reflects on her journey in a way she’s been allowed to before.

Everyone knows I’m a huge Lance sisters fan. The one saving grace in L*urel’s Season 2 storyline was when it stopped being about her relationship with Oliver and she began to focus on repairing her relationship with Sara.

I bought into the Bl*ck C*nary storyline in Season 3 because I believed Sara’s death was a life altering catalytic event for L*urel. “The Calm” remains my favorite L*urel L*ance episode and I will always believe Sara is her great love and vice versus. We all need something or someone to live for and that love doesn’t always have to be romantic in nature.

So, Sara coming back to town to protect her sister’s good name and offer some wisdom to Bl*ck S*ren made a lot of sense to me. Sara is the one who pieces together that maybe failing to kill Felicity and Dinah wasn’t a mistake after all. She uses her sisterly intuition and finds Bl*ck S*ren at Quentin’s grave.

Source: canarygifs

Sara gives it to L*urel straight in an EPIC speech. She owns all her past mistakes. Sara cheated with her sister’s boyfriend, let her family believe she was dead and then became an assassin.

Yuuuup. Sara Lance history sure is colorful! Each one of these errors in judgment is an unforgivable offense. And yet, L*urel found a way to forgive Sara. Well, after she blamed her for absolutely everything that went wrong in her and boozed her way through the liquor cabinet, but let’s not get bogged down in the details.

This remains my favorite Lance sister scene of all time because L*urel does not go to Sara offering forgiveness. No, L*urel comes to Sara begging for forgiveness. Despite everything she’d done and everything she suffered, Sara survived whereas L*urel was crippled by her pain. These two women found their way out of the dark together. Sara’s forgiveness put L*urel on a path to sobriety. L*urel’s forgiveness put Sara on a path to heroism. Neither of them truly deserved forgiveness for what they had done, but that’s not the point of forgiveness is it?

It was L*urel’s love, not Oliver’s that gave Sara the second chance she needed. Maybe Sara didn’t deserve forgiveness when L*urel gave it, but it sparked the beginning of her journey towards someone who did. Sara is the Original Canary, the captain of a time traveling superhero squad and the one and ONLY White Canary. She offers the wisdom of her life experience to help Bl*ck S*ren.

Source: canarygifs

She also calls Bl*ck S*ren out on her bullshit. She tried to be a hero for six months. TRYING? SIX MONTHS? She thinks that evens the score for years and years of mayhem, theft and murder?

We’re supposed to feel sorry for BS after she’s spent six months living in a comfortable apartment and getting paid well to do a job she didn’t earn.

Great, she helped Oliver out of prison. She also tried to kill him multiple times, so they aren’t exactly equal yet. When Sara tried to quit the murder business a lethal team of assassins came after her and she had to commit suicide to get them to leave her alone. But L*urel knows the horror of the Balmain double breasted, wool blend jacket. Poor baby.

I forgot she was accused of working with Diaz and lost her job. Yeah, except she did work with Diaz and SHE IS NOT A LAWYER SO SHE SHOULD LOSE HER JOB.

Then there’s being falsely accused of Diaz’s murder. Hmmm… who killed Vinnie again? L*urel being falsely accused of ONE murder compared to the multiple homicides she has committed and has yet to pay for in any real or substantial way does not equate. Yet, here she is with a stick up her ass and expecting everyone to feel sorry for her. You know, I take it back. She really is like E1 L*urel sometimes.

Sara explains what real redemption is and it is my favorite line of the episode.

Source: canarygifs

She’s right. Redemption is not a light switch that can be flipped on. L*urel can’t do a couple nice things and say, “TA DA! I AM REDEEMED!” It’s not how it works. There’s no endgame here. This is something L*urel needs work at for the rest of her life. She needs to fight every day to be a person worthy of forgiveness. When L*urel falls down, or life doesn’t go her way, she can’t throw an evil temper tantrum.

A real hero isn’t looking for a reward. A real hero doesn’t look for someone else to blame. A real hero doesn’t keep score. A real hero sacrifices and fights the good fight because it is the right thing to do. Does Bl*ck S*ren qualify?

No. She is not a hero yet. She is undeserving of the love, compassion and forgiveness Sara and Felicity are offering her.

But we all are undeserving of forgiveness. We are all broken in some way. We all do or say hurtful things. Each of us will either do something unforgivable or feel like we’ve done something unforgivable. What makes the difference in our life is having someone who loves us despite our sins.

We can see the people who have been loved when they are unlovable and those who have not when we look at the landscape of humanity. Sometimes we need a push in the right direction when we are at a crossroads, but not all of us have someone in our life who loves us enough to give one. The ones who do are blessed.

Bl*ck S*ren’s sins are deeply evil. She has dug herself a very large, dark hole. L*urel stopped Felicity from falling down the same hole because she knows there’s nothing but pain, emptiness and loneliness at the bottom. She knows how to stop someone from falling in, but L*urel does not know how to climb out. Bl*ck S*ren is stuck in a self destructive cycle. Felicity fundamentally believes every human being is redeemable if they want redemption, but some need more of a push than others.

The truth is we all need help out of the darkness. We all need someone to love us unconditionally. We all need someone reach down into the hole and offer a hand. But our redemption remains in our hands. It’s not enough for someone to reach out. We have to reach back.

All the evil hijinks boil down to a faceoff with Bl*ck S*ren and Felicity. Felicity tells BS one last time she believes in her, but ultimately it’s not about what she believes. It’s not about L*urel L*ance’s legacy or who Quentin wanted BS to be. This is about who Bl*ck S*ren wants to be. Free will my friends. It is a bitch.

COME ON! Nobody is killing Felicity Smoak least of all Bl*ck S*ren. L*urel is picking out china patterns in her head, so she ain’t killin’ bae. She joins Felicity and the rest of the birds and together they defeat the villain of the week. Sorry I really didn’t pay much attention to the partner.

Source: smoaktechs

In their victory celebration, Dinah decides not to arrest Bl*ck S*ren and even comes up with a get out of jail free card excuse aka “working undercover.” A relieved Felicity tells L*urel that everything can go back to normal.

But L*urel disagrees. It is time to stop running. It is time to stop pretending to be someone she’s not. It’s time to go back to Earth 2. She has to made amends in the place where she created so much pain. I. AM. SCREAMING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No, it’s not a stint in the pokey, but I WILL TAKE IT. Going back to Earth 2 is the next best thing. It addresses my primary problem with L*urel’s redemptive arc and that is pretending to be someone she’s not. Being Earth 1 L*urel L*ance protected Bl*ck S*ren from all the damage she caused on Earth 2. If she really wants a shot at redemption then she has to go back to the place where everyone knows her as Bl*ck S*ren. Earth 2 is where L*urel will be forced to confront everything she’s done and accept responsibility for it. There’s no hiding, running or easy outs on Earth 2. That is the place where an honest redemptive arc can begin.

Felicity understands and gives her a parting gift – E1 L*urel’s Bl*ck C*nary suit.

Source: nyssaalghl

It’s a beautiful full circle moment. I don’t make the rules! Felicity anoints the superheroes, assigns the names and hands out the couture! If she says L*urel should be Bl*ck C*nary on Earth 2 then L*urel is going to be Bl*ck C*nary on Earth 2. Fine with me!

L*urel meets Sara once more at Quentin’s grave. Her story always comes back to Sara no matter what version of L*urel it is. Felicity was the push, but Sara’s words lit the spark. She launched L*urel L*ance’s hero’s journey once again. Cuz see the light?!!!!

Source: canarygifs

This scene also feels like a goodbye to the Lance family. Quentin is gone, L*urel is dead, Sara is off hero-ing through time, and Bl*ck S*ren is returning to Earth 2. This isn’t the end of L*urel’s redemptive journey. It’s the beginning. But it is the first time I believe she might deserve it someday.

Source: nyssaalghl

FLASH FORWARD TIME!

Dinah created the Canary Network to be a support system for women, so someone always had their back. It’s a reminder to Dinah of what she failed to give Bl*ck S*ren once. It’s a whole conglomerate of leather clad ladies supporting ladies! LOOOOOOVE IT!

There is no singular Bl*ck C*nary. No one woman holds the title. It fulfills L*urel L*ance’s dying wish in a way she couldn’t even imagine at the time, which is why it is so fitting.

Unfortunately, Galaxy One massacres the network in “Lost Canary” and Dinah loses fifteen of her girls. It’s a devastating loss for Dinah, but I couldn’t help but cackle a little. Arrow never misses an opportunity to throw a little petty at the LL fandom. Oh you’re made we killed once Bl*ck C*nary? Watch us kill fifteen! How do you like them apples?!

Dinah, Felicity and Zoe want to lay low and regroup after such a big hit, but Mia is fired up and ready for pay back.

Source: amunetblack

Dinah tries to convince her to wait for the surviving canaries to fight back when the time is right, but Mia defiantly says...

Source: amunetblack

It’s like they tailor made her for us fandom. Mia Smoak is perfection on every level.

Dinah calls in some back up to keep an eye on Mia.

L*urel.

She saves Mia from some Galaxy One goons. Unfortunately, the horror show of a wig is back, but let us pray there are less buckles on the suit. The lipstick has changed from black to red so serious upgrade in that department.

Source: dcmultiverse

It’s a beautifully symbolic moment because L*urel saves Mia in an alley where a body of a dead canary is lying. It’s the same kind of alley where Sara fell to her death and launched L*urel’s Bl*ck C*nary journey.

It’s the same kind of alley where L*urel’s journey was foreshadowed in the pilot,

but with a significant change. L*urel is no longer connected to the man in the story, but to the women. Sara, L*urel, Felicity, Dinah, Bl*ck S*ren, Zoe and Mia all weave together in one beautiful thread. Bl*ck C*nary no longer belongs to one woman. It belongs to all of them.

The beauty of this is I don’t have to sit through another half baked Bl*ck C*nary storyline for L*urel. I trust she’s earned the suit on E2. Even better she’s still Bl*ck S*ren. This isn’t 2.0 of E1 L*urel L*nce. Hopefully, all the snarky wit, aptitude for zingers and glowering that made me fall in love with BS remains. I just needed her to stop murdering people. That’s all. All of this means I might finally have a version of L*urel L*nce that I can enjoy.

L*urel gives Mia some wisdom that screams THERE IS GOING TO BE A SPIN OFF,

but what I loved most is L*urel is still trying every day to prove she is a hero.

Redemption is a journey and not a destination. And undeserved forgiveness is often the beginning of that journey. Nobody knows that better than L*urel L*ance.

Stray Thoughts

#Fact. Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Bl*ck S*ren pretending to be L*urel acts somewhat normal. She ratchets up the cheese factor when she's Bl*ck S*ren. I forgot about that.

Emily is having an A+ hair season. Really it's like a Vidal Sassoon commercial every week.

This made me emotional. Source: olicitygifs

"Let's just call her a genius and leave it at that." Hubby is so proud of bae.

Bl*ck S*ren versus White Canary is like a heavy weight boxer fighting a chipmunk.

Felicity and Sara flirting is everything I didn’t know I need. The love triangle was centered on the wrong person in Season 2. It should have been Felicity and not Oliver. Source: ebett

Yup. We all knew. Source: felicitysmoakgifs

“Felicity Smoak is killing people now." Sara is my spirit animal.

Sara has seniority Dinah. It should've been you sitting it out. Respect your elder. Source: canarygifs

The great evil of this episode is the grommet sweater. We must protect the actresses from this atrocity because it's spreading.

This was cute. Source: hollandrooden

Sara has a baby on Earth 2? I NEED THE NAME. WHERE ARE PICTURES?

Don’t tell me L*urel is not in love with Felicity. I know my truth. Source: hollandrooden

Spit my drink out when Sara said this because it’s ridiculous. That said, Arrow continually painting Laurel as a saint is a constant reminder they are never bringing her back. the more Arrow paints Laurel as saint. Source: danverskara

Was it snowing in the future? What was up with the weather?

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me. 7x18 gifs credited.

The *** in names is so the review doesn’t show up in the tag.

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

#arrow #arrow 7x18 #arrow reviews #olicity #felicity smoak #anti laurel lance #anti black siren #anti black canary #sara lance #anti dinah drake #arrow season 7 #arrow spoilers #arrow season 7 reviews #arrow season 7 review #season 7 episode review #season 7 episode reviews

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emeraldnebula · 5 years ago

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One more submission and response

So, I know you’re probably sick to death of comments/questions about Superman but man, I need to rant somewhere because having spent a few days on Superman-related comic boards, I completely understand what you mean about Superman “fans” being the reason for his downfall. Forget hardcore Post-Crisis fans, forget hardcore marriage fans, SJWs have made their way into the Superman fandom and they are even worse than I imagined. People unironically defending Superman being Batman’s, Lex Luthor’s, Lois Lane’s and many other people’s verbal and physical punching bag because being the “bigger man” and “martyring himself to make a point” are somehow noble but fighting back and kicking the shit out of arrogant twerps who parade around like they are untouchable is somehow “punching down”. Superman not actively fighting injustices but spending more time philosophizing about “how he is helping mankind or damaging them” instead of being a man of action is “deep and mature”. Superman doing something old-fashioned heroic like saving a girl from potential molesters is “problematic”. Writers trying to put Superman front-and-center again is “anti-progressivist macho fantasy”. Oh God, DC needs to collapse and fast so someone can save Clark Kent from this insanity.

I think the idea that Superman -- or the Rebirth Impostor, as we have now -- being a martyr wasn’t the original intent when he first became Batman and Luthor’s punching bag and Lois’ whipping boy. The original intent when it first started up was to elevate those characters, even if it meant tearing Superman down. Frank Miller certainly didn’t intend any martyrdom for Superman when he wrote Dark Knight Returns; all he wanted was to make his version of Batman the big kahuna. And when DC did the Superman/Lois/Jeb Friedman love triangle and made the Super-Marriage a train wreck in the first place, the original intent was to try and weasel out of the joint arrangement with Lois & Clark to marry them off simultaneously (and, over time, to make Lois the star of the franchise instead of Superman). I think all the talk of Superman trying to be “the bigger man” and “setting a moral example” are justifications made after the fact. You have both creators and what remains of the fandom weaned on the Post-Crisis stuff, and absolutely refusing to look at anything that preceded it. (Hell, Frank Miller blames Batman ‘66 for stuff Kane and Finger were doing in the comics 26 years prior.) They know it’s not popular, they know it’s not selling, but it’s what they want and that’s that. So they make excuses for it.

But if we’re being honest, the idea of Superman being a moral paragon by being everyone’s punching bag predates the SJW craze. Even in the early 2000s, writers were already heading in that direction, and what eventually became the fandom had gotten it wedged in their heads that it was more noble and heroic for Superman to let the bad guys win than to ever get his hands dirty for any reason. And certainly when Superman was put in a kill-or-watch-the-world-be-slaughtered position in Man of Steel, comic book fans and pros alike asserted that Superman should always take “a higher path”...and some argued that higher path was letting Zod win, lest Superman “betray his ideals.” Yes, I’m serious. A very vocal sect of the Superman fandom would rather he willingly let innocent people be killed in the name of self-perceived purity than to take whatever action is necessary to protect those people, and certainly many comic book writers share that sentiment. Before SJWs became the “in” thing, Superman being ineffectual was treated as moral purity not only for the character, but for the fans who espoused such beliefs. It was a way for the fans to put themselves up on a pedestal and shout down anyone who dared to point out how stupid their talking points were.

As far as “deep and mature” goes, that’s the same excuse the current Batman fandom makes for that character being reduced to a one-note, constantly scowling cipher of hate and arrogance instead of the fully rounded human he was before 1986. I wouldn’t take that line seriously at all. It clearly isn’t selling, it clearly isn’t appealing to anybody outside of the tiny clique DC’s catering to at all costs, and it only shows just how bankrupt TPTB really are. The SJW elements are really just natural outgrowths of what DC had already been doing to Superman, and those alone have proven fatal to the franchise. When you go out of your way to make your title character utterly useless, it’s not that much of a leap to the idea that for him to do anything assertive or heroic is wrong, or much of a leap to think that he has no right to the spotlight in the books bearing his name. It’s absolutely attracted the worst possible audience for the franchise and alienated everybody else...but it’s the audience DC wants because they themselves want the franchise this way. It’s a self-sustaining feedback loop of the worst kind.

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monkey-network · 6 years ago

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WarioWare: The Series Season 3 Episodes

52 Episodes. Season 4 Coming 20XX Season 2, Season 1 * = Episode Submitted by @tmantookie

The End of the Show: WarioWare Inc. want to make games again… except Wario, who has grown tired of the idea and the gang somehow taking advantage of him (even when he steals from them), so he goes back to treasure hunting. This begs the question: can a company run smoothly without an (arrogant and maniacal) entrepreneur to lead it?

The Prince and the Bopper: An elegant prince gets transported to Diamond City and feels out of touch with this new reality, so JT helps him see a side that’s been locked away. His kingdom’s chancellor arrives to take him back, but he’s conflicted between becoming king of the castle or staying as king of the ball.

Wario Side Story: The Possums and the Squirrels, rival gangs of DC’s Crystal Park, have fought for territory for generations. However, the daughters of the gang’s leaders start to bond and wish to put an end to the war. With Wario and Mona spectating from afar, can there be enough resolve in putting an end to the conflict?

Hurry Up!: The WarioWare gang are making a mad dash to a concert, but when they try using a shortcut through the DC mall, they’re forced to confront persistent kiosk owners who will stop at nothing to make them pay.

Words Hurt: In the show’s quietest episode ever, 9 and 18 Volt study at a library when higher grade kids start getting them in unintentional trouble, so the duo set up prank traps that’ll surely get back at them. All without making a sound.

Greed Pluribus Unum: A master thief is taking money from Wario, the richest fatcats of DC, banks, schools, hospitals, everything from the town. Why and where to is anyone’s game, but Wario-Man’s on the case to track down, take back, and force himself to give back to those who’ve been wronged.

Robot Humble: Doris 1 short circuits and plots to lead a robot uprising, but fails at getting an army due to Crygor’s bots not being the most vicious (or stable). So she turns to Mike, who develops feelings for her but gets annoyed by her constant pleading and moping.

Star Tolls: Orbulon takes over Dribble and Spitz’s shift for the day and is somehow better than the duo at getting the job done. But when he accidentally scratches a car and is challenged to a race across the galaxy, he may have to break some codes of his to win.

Nightmare on W Street: Halloween has arrived and Ashley is still the one person who’s afraid of nothing (beyond that one time). She and Wario takes this as an opportunity for easy money from the city, but when a stranger shaman casts a spell on her, the scam might falter when she starts to finally recognize fear.

Man of the Woods: Former minions of Wario’s past are stalking him, and everyone’s trying to figure out how to sooth their haunting tension toward him.

Cater Joe’s: Manager Joe opens a diner on the edge of town to have some time away from the city life. Some of the WarioWare gang stop by to share an adventure they had over the week.

Penny Machine: A snooty scientist is dazzled by Penny’s science fair project, but Penny refuses to give it up as it’s her most delicate creation. So the judge does all they can to get it, but you can’t put a price on love.

The Hero’s Might: After her first ever sugar rush, a hungover Lulu is stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a lute, a water bottle, a mule, and Wario’s clothes on her back. Nothing left to do but try to make it back. And it begs the question: who’s the stubborn one in this story?

The Rhythm Hath Fallen* (Half Hour Crossover Special): A cosmic earthquake causes Heaven World to fall and collide with Diamond City, with HW’s citizens treating DC’s citizens to a week long block party. But the week starts to overstay its welcome, so Rhythm Heaven’s Tibby, his friends, and the WW gang try to fix things with Mamarin’s bizarre guidance.

The Opposable Opponent: Young Cricket starts training under a master that only uses his left thumb to fight, but struggles to keep up with the regime... until he starts to figure out how the master came to be.

Spell “Mi cup”: 9-Volt, 18-Volt, and 13-Amp enter and win a special edition movie branded mug and split up their days of possessing it. However, sharing germs is the one thing the three unfortunately overlook.

Tree Top Tango: Jimmy T is enjoying a jazzy walk in the woods, but gets in a pickle when creatures of nature’s variety start to surface. What’s a disco fool to beside show them a natural groove to ease their carnivorous minds.

Love at First Strike: Ana starts to develop a crush on 9-Volt, and is stuck between practicing and hanging out with him. 9-Volt would feel the same way, if she wasn’t pummeling him as a means to hide him from Kat.

The Typical Beach Episode: It’s an average beach day for WarioWare Inc... until a hurricane lands smack dab in the middle of the fun. So now the gang is caught between staying within the eye of the storm and dodging the chaos circling around them.

Ashociates: Ashley finally made some friends, dawg! Except not really, she’s only using them to get a mystical artifact and if you see her so called “friends”, her front is kinda justified.

Good Golf: Mona and Dr. Crygor are enjoying a nice day of mini-golf when a egotistical pro golfer butts in their game and begins ruining people’s fun. The two team up to beat him just in time for lunch, but things get difficult when he put up traps on the course.

Chili Dog Millionaire: Lulu finds out she’s a great cook, so she gets a job at a gourmet restaurant where the head chef demands for nothing but perfection. Nervous at first, the head chef treats her better than the rest, which prompts jealousy and potential sabotage her way.

King of the Dill: 18-Volt is selling hot pickles at school but sells out quick and ran out of his special ingredients. While going to the store, his classmates spot him and suddenly transform into sore throat, teary eyed zombies by the sight of his green jacket.

Becoming Human (For Dummies): Orbulon gets tired of people picking on him because he’s an extraterrestrial. So he invents a human suit that helps him appear like one. But, the intricacies of the suit start to send Orbulon dark thoughts that yet don’t stray from typical human ideologies.

Dueldreaming: Kat is suffering from nightmares to the point of not sleeping at all, so with the help of Penny, Ana goes into her dreams to slay the horrors but starts to cower before what she finds.

Way of the Birthday: It’s Young Cricket’s birthday, so Mantis has the perfect gift for him for all he’s done: a Battle Royale where it’s him against Mantis’s old friends.

Jump the Rope: We got ourselves a flash forward episode, where we see the kids grown up, the adults living out their days, and Wario.... ummm, in another place.

A New L.O.W.: Wario creates the League of Wario, a team of sinister pranksters, to get back at a viral video celeb that wedgied him great enough to put him in a wheelchair.

Wario Party: It’s the anniversary of WarioWare Inc, and the gang wants to celebrate the occasion... by dining at the perfect restaurant. But they’ve dined at every place in DC, so they set out to go to the best place with the best palette, atmosphere, and prices.

Musclecats HO!: Mona joins a gym and enters herself into a bodybuilding competition. With the help of a supportive and swoll group of regulars, she’s aiming for the top.

Grey JT: A grey hair sprouts from Jimmy’s head and this makes him worry about how his routine may be the cause of aging faster.

That’s Enough, Buddy: Due to increase danger risk in DC, a young yet no nonsense sheriff is enforcing old rules on the public which interferes with Wario’s latest scam.

A Mother’s Metal: 9-Volt wants to give 5-Volt the best Mother’s Day gift ever, and eventually digs up an old relic of her past that’s both a blessing and a curse to 5.

The Best Worst Case Scenario: Television has gotten boring, even Wario thinks it’s a waste of his time, so everyone trashes their TV and goes outside to more productive means. Everything is swell, except for the people up top who soon rely on Wario to save them.

Oh Snow: Layers of snow has hit DC and while Wario becomes a life-sized snowman, Ashley learns about the multifaceted fun of snow.

WarioWaRPG: A digital virus manifests from Penny’s laptop and turns Diamond City into a card based RPG world. She kidnaps Penny and it’s up to the gang to save her. Unfortunately, they skipped the tutorial and don’t have the best decks on hand.

Let’s Be Lazy For Once: Due to a budget setback thanks to last episode, the WW gang decide to look back on previous episodes and provide as clever and nice a commentary as possible.

You’re Clowning Me: Dribble and Spitz pick a group of clowns that are on their way to rehearsal. What the two fail to realize is that they’re clown mafia with police, and rival clown cars, not far behind.

Chivalry is Dumb: A famous detective, and his maid sidekick, arrives at Diamond City to investigate an elaborate crime, only to be taken aback by Wario and all that he stands for, while his sidekick grows to enjoy the big guy’s rebellious and burly personality.

Break Out the Rainy Day Fun: Kat, Ana, Penny, 9 & 18 Volt join Ashley and Red at their manor while the rain’s heavy outside. And while Ashley is busy with a certain brew she’s craving, she summons skeletons to go play with, and not chomp, the others.

The Suit: Legends says there is a mystical 3 piece suit that can turn any normal being into a charming yet sadistically unruly reality bending version of themselves. Now this would be the part where I mention who stumbles upon such clothing, but I’ll let that be a mystery.

Consider the Fruit n’ Nuts: Dr. Crygor, with assistance from Wario, Mona, Cricket, and Penny, teaches us the good and bad of dieting.

House of Mike: After Mike stumbles upon a group of pugs who’re seeking a sense of purpose and bonding, he shows them a fantasy game he recently bought that could help them out.

The Hero’s “Happiness”: Lulu is comfortable with the life she now has in DC, but doesn’t feel happy, whatever that means. Only when a familiar villager of Luxeville enters the picture does she question whether it’s right to stay or leave for better purposes, and she turns to the least favorable person for help.

You Agree With Me?: In a shocking turn of events, a man who’s never able to decide on any choice was able to thanks to Jimmy’s advice. Now our more decisive denizen is indebted to his afro hero, to the point of imitating him to a bizarrely fleek degree.

Master Blaster: A few million years ago, jerk aliens decided to blast the earth with a laser beam that’s destructive yet really slow. A few million years later, it’s set to touchdown in 24 hours. Orbulon and Dr.Crygor team up to figure out how to beat the laser, but our alien is more worried with time than the doctor.

A Series of Unbelievable Events: At Joe’s Diner, Young Cricket and Master Mantis share their awful day and Manager Joe doesn’t find everything to be true, so they begrudgingly trace their steps and recount their day to Joe exactly how it happened.

Amp Unleashed: 13-Amp must face her fears when she has to rap battle against a duo that inspired her career. While she is alone on this mission, the memories of 18-Volt and Mike’s help give her new found strength.

Fronk Sonata’s Moonlight: Penny’s terrible singing practice makes her voice soul leave her body for 9V’s fronk, Snag, who becomes a hit nightclub singer.

Unininja: Kat and Ana fuse into one ultimate dual wielding ninja, but unfuses for good when they go too far with their newly acquired fun. But when a Tengu Shogun is coming with an armada toward Diamond City, it’s the perfect time to unite once again.

My Witch Ashedemia: Ashley is enrolled in a prep school for witches, but feels bored with the mediocre lessons. But she uncovers a secret about the school and uses this to blackmail the teachers for more advanced schooling, which inadvertently puts a target on her from an anti witch group.

LessTalkMoreTanks (Half Hour Season Finale): The WW gang finds a giant battle tank and take it for a spin, but it turns that they stole it from its cantankerous, anarchy driven owner. So... tank fight in the sand dunes, the gang vs the owner’s friends? Who’s on board?

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