#rick face the consequences of his actions challenge

[thejumbers]

ok!! analyse piss!! i think how the smiths are treating rick is a direct consequence of his actions. he is being treated how he conditioned them to treat each other for a very long time! i’m not saying that the smiths aren’t toxic and i’m not even saying that rick deserves it, but i do think it’s his fault. i think they shaped their lives around rick for a long time and now that he’s no longer the centre of their universe they want someone to deify. i think about ricks rant in the rickshank rickdemption a lot, after he’s manipulated beth into leaving jerry, it’s clear that he has had a huge impact on how the smiths interact with each other and him. his rant in s3 is a really good parallel to him telling morty to not everyone about pissmaster, he’s hasn’t told them when rick has done worse but it’s because of him trying to be better, morty isn’t as scared of him anymore. ricks is a transitional period where he is learning he can’t keep reaping the benefits of his manipulation while also trying to separate himself from it.

i also don’t necessarily think it’s the smiths wanting to feel morally superior or get back at rick, at least not for morty and summer, but more with ricks growth, all of the toxic coping mechanisms he’s instilled into them are coming back to bite him in the ass. analyse piss made rick incredibly sympathetic, and i agree with that but it’s obvious that how he’s being treated is in completely in line with the values he pushed onto the family, which is to deify for smallest victories and punish heavily for the smallest failures. because rick isn’t the head of the family anymore, this doesn’t work to his benefit anymore and everyone is dealing with all of the left over shit from ricks abuse.

i’m not trying to discount that beth and jerry specifically have always had these issues but i think it’s unfair to demonise all ofthe smiths for behaving how they were trained because it not longer benefits rick.

[hookedonhuge]

A Hard Challenger to Beat

Wednesday night was men-only at the small country town bar. Living in a remote area could get awfully boring at times, but boy’s night was a highlight for most of the men’s weeks. There was truly nothing like blowing off some steam with your pals after a hard day’s work. No hassles, no consequences, just dudes having fun.

One of the main attractions on Wednesday nights was the Beat Billy pool challenge. The challenge was simple: play Billy in a game of pool, if you lose you have to give him ten dollars, and if you win then you get a special reward.

What was the special reward? If you saw Billy in action, it wouldn’t take long to find out. Every Wednesday night you could find Billy bent over the pool table lining up for a shot, with his big butt sticking out and his jeans, stuffed with ten dollar notes, looking like they’re about to split. 

Yep, the special reward was an all-expense paid trip down to pound town (also known as the last stall in the men’s bathroom) with the one and only, Bubble Butt Billy. It was a shame that Billy was the best darn pool player in that town and the next town over. 

It was a lucrative business for Billy, who never once had to surrender his pride to another man. However, it was speculated that the Beat Billy challenge was more profitable for the bar than it was for Billy himself. The challenge drew large crowds of pent-up men, some, who in their lustful delusions, thought themselves skilled or lucky enough to earn themselves some quality time with Billy’s behind, and others, who were more financially conscious, would instead egg on their pals to give the challenge a go just for the chance to see Billy bend over the pool table a couple more times.

Without a fault, each Wednesday night would bring to the bar a rowdy crowd, despite how predictable the events of the night were. Billy would pocket a nice amount spending money at the expense of his hopeful challengers, and the patrons would get their fair share of Bubble Butt Billy action. Billy barely had to try against his challengers and was eager to play a game of pool against an actually formidable opponent, and on one Wednesday night he got exactly that.

It was a Wednesday night that seemed to be going the same as every other Wednesday before it. Billy had just defeated yet another challenger and was counting ten dollar bills with his signature cocky smirk painted across his face. “Anyone else want to challenge me?” he said, teasing his audience by leaning his upper body ever so slightly over the pool table.

“I will.” An unfamiliar voice boomed from the back of the room. Billy turned around to size up the stranger. Billy, who was never short of words to belittle his upcoming challengers, was silent. It wasn’t the stranger’s face that left Billy at a loss for words; his eyes hadn’t even gotten up that far. Billy’s gaze was stuck on the bulging mass that was tenting the stranger’s tight jeans. For the first time in a long while Billy remembered the consequences of losing the challenge, his mind trapped in thoughts of how his virgin hole would fare if he lost this one time. 

“My eyes are up here buddy,” the stranger said in a playful tone, strutting towards Billy with an irresistible swagger. “Just teasin’ ya. The name’s Rick,” he said warmly, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “I’d like to challenge you to a game of pool. I’m sure that wouldn’t be a problem.”

Billy snapped out of his daze and shook Rick’s hand. “You’re new around here, so I’ll have to warn you not to get your hopes up,” Billy said, building up his confident facade again. “I haven’t even been trying tonight.”

“I expect nothing but your best.” Rick was unfazed. “I’ll let you break.” 

Billy picked up his cue stick and the white ball as Rick set up the rest of the balls to break. As he had done a hundred times before, Billy got ready to begin play, lining his cue stick up to hit the white ball as his butt pointed out towards the leering spectators. Usually, Billy was so quick in his play that his opponent’s wouldn’t have time to register that the match had started. That night, Billy wasn’t so fast to start.

The cause of Billy’s delay was his opponent, who was standing on the opposite side of the table with his crotch directly in Billy’s line of sight. Rick’s hands were on his waist and he leaned just a little bit back to accentuate his large package.

“All bark and no bite,” Billy muttered under his breath. Billy struck the white ball, which jetted in the group of remaining balls causing them to scatter. Not a single ball had been potted into one of the holes, which was unusual for Billy.

It was Rick’s turn and he grabbed one of the cue sticks from the rack. He stroked the long wooden stick with his powerful hand lewdly under the guise of surveying its quality. “You know where I’m from, they call me Thick Stick Rick,” he said to Billy as he walked past him, meeting Billy’s gaze with a wink.

Rick quickly potted two balls in a row with ease, putting Billy on the back foot. Billy countered with his renowned precision. He potted three balls in quick succession and set himself up for an easy put away with a fourth.

The white ball had rolled to the centre of the large table meaning that Billy had to lean over extra far to reach it, causing his two large cheeks to stretch his jean fabric to its limit. Billy, who had been able to regain focus in the match, was about to sink his ball into one of the pockets when he felt something large and hard brush up against his crack. He turned around to see Rick towering over his lower half.

“Hey, you have to win first before you can have any of that,” Billy snapped, audibly annoyed.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Rick said, feigning sincerity. “I just forget how big I am sometimes.”

Billy tried his best to brush off Rick’s comment and struck the white ball, but it clearly affected him as the ball he was aiming for, which was set up so well, bounced off the rim of the pocket and back towards the centre of the pool table. Billy swore under his breath; he never missed a shot like that.

“Don’t stress about it,” Rick said, placing his middle and index finger into one of the pockets. “These holes are so tight,” he wriggled his two fingers, “that these balls only just fit in.”

Rick’s innuendos had a marked effect on Billy, allowing Rick to even the scoreboard in spite of the vast difference in their skill levels. Each player now had one ball each to put away before they could go for the win by potting the eight ball. It was Billy’s turn and he was once again bent over the table, ass in the air, and lining up for a shot.

“Looking good Billy boy.” Rick chimed in as Billy was doing some practice shots in front of the white ball to check he had the right alignment.

“I don’t need you to help me with my alignment, I’m the expert… '' Billy trailed off as he realised Rick wasn’t commenting on his shot preparation. Instead, Rick’s eyes were glued to Billy’s famous butt.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just keeping my eyes on the prize,” Rick said, biting his bottom lip.

Billy tried to ignore Rick and went ahead with his shot. He managed to pot his final ball, but foolishly sunk the white ball as well. The crowd, who had fallen silent from the tension of the match, let out a gasp when Billy made this rare error.

Rick was able to sink his final ball as well, leaving the two in a race to pot the eight ball first for the win. Rick had no success on his first attempt as the eight ball was stuck in a tricky position. His comparative lack of experience showed as Rick was not careful enough to put the eight ball in a difficult position for his opponent to finish off.

All Billy needed to do was hit a straight shot from one end of the table to the other, which was easy for a player like himself. Rick, the schemer he was, was still not out of ideas. He moved himself behind the pocket Billy was planning to sink the eight ball into and started grinding his huge bulge against that corner pocket.

“How badly do you want to get into this hole, cause I want to get into this hole real bad,” Rick said with a slight grunt. Billy stayed silent. “It’s only a small hole Billy boy, it could be a real struggle to fit in.” Billy lined up his shot. “God Billy,” Rick’s voice turned low and rough as he took a step back from the table and squeezed his tightly wrapped manhood with his hand. “I’m a big boy, and I’m not even hard yet. You can’t even imagine the damage I could do to your bussy, or is that what you want? Have you been going easy on me on purpose Billy boy?”

Billy’s face was red from a mixture of anger and fear. He was sweating profusely and his hands were trembling. Billy drew his cue stick back then thrusted it forward with as much might as possible. The white ball rocketed into the eight ball which slammed into the pocket. In his desperation, Billy had struck the white ball far too hard and it followed the eight ball into the pocket.

Despair was the only thing that could describe Billy. Sinking the eight ball and fouling in the same shot was an automatic loss. The crowd knew this and roared with excitement. Thick Stick Rick was victorious. 

Billy looked to the crowd, his eyes pleading for mercy. This was futile as the crowd, who had lost a lot of money over the years to Billy, were seeking retribution and Rick would deliver it. 

“Rick! Rick! Thick Stick Rick!” the crowd chanted.

Rick approached the defeated Billy. “I ain’t gonna force you or nothin’ Billy boy, I ain’t like that,” Rick said, placing his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “But if you –”

“I’m a man of my word Rick. I couldn’t show my face in this town again if I didn’t go through with this.” Billy replied earnestly, not letting Rick finish.

“That’s the Bubble Butt Billy I’ve heard so much about. Now don’t you worry, Rick is gonna treat you real nice.” Rick gave Billy’s big butt a friendly smack.

The crowd’s chanting reached a climax as Billy and Rick walked into the men’s bathroom together. “Give ‘em hell Rick!” yelled a frenzied patron.

Soon, the bar fell into silence as the once raucous spectators listened suspensefully. At first there was no sound coming from the bathroom. After a little while a faint banging noise could be heard. It got louder and louder, until Billy’s moaning commenced. Billy reached a transcendent state, his shameless moans of pleasure filling up the bar and causing the pants of everyone in it to become a little more snug. Some opted to loosen their belts to relieve the pressure that was quickly building below.

“That son of a whore Billy is really enjoying this isn’t he?” commented one of the bargoers.

“Rick sure is a stallion!” remarked another.

“Billy won’t be able to walk properly for a week!” 

“Don’t tell me Bubble Butt Billy lost on purpose!”

Rick and Billy’s erotic encounter culminated with a shared orgasmic roar that reverberated throughout the entire establishment. Rick, ever the gentlemen, offered to book a hotel room for the two of them for the night once he caught his breath back. All Billy could do was nod and collapse into Rick’s arms, his body completely exhausted.

“You’ve got a body that men like me dream about, Billy boy.” Rick kissed Billy on the forehand and proceeded to carry him out of the bar on his shoulders to a nearby hotel. There, Billy slept peacefully in Rick’s arms and Rick dozed off with his hands cupping Billy’s big cheeks.

[hazelnut-u-out]

I think an interesting facet of the storytelling of Rick and Morty is the way that you’re intended to view Rick as a main character. It’s inarguable that both Rick and Morty are the main characters of this show (although, season 6 left Morty feeling a bit neglected, in my opinion). That being said, there are some things that I’ve found interesting regarding the way that Rick is intended to be perceived.

Generally, when you’re consuming a piece of fiction, there is a compulsion to like the main character. At the very least, you’re used to empathizing with them on most things. Now, I’m obviously not trying to say that main characters can’t be bad people. That wouldn’t exactly be a generalizable statement. In fact, I think that it is a marvelous tool in fiction to follow a protagonist who is very obviously doing the wrong thing. Main characters are allowed to be villains.

I guess what I’m getting at here is that I’m used to liking main characters as people (not just their presence on the page or screen, dialogue, or personality) even when they’re consumed by a villain arc. I really loved the tonal shift that took place in the last episode of season 6 of Rick and Morty, because they really challenged me on that. They flipped the script, in a way.

(Disclaimer: I love Rick. I'm just angry with him at the moment.)

I think the only other piece of media I’ve consumed in the genre that I’ve felt executed this same earth-shattering disappointment of being denied a main character you like was Bojack Horseman. Bojack is the main character. He’s funny, charismatic, empathetic, tormented. As the viewer, you want to like him. You’re waiting for a reason to be able to love him, but… it’s never enough. It never comes. No matter how many grand gestures he attempts or how well the groundwork is laid out for a redeemable character, as he says, “You have to be dependably good.”

That fundamental dissonance is something that I can’t help likening to Rick.

All the pieces are there, but he can't quite put them together.

I’ve even found myself waiting for the moment Morty gets to deliver a confrontational monologue to Rick with the same emotional significance of Todd’s.

“You can’t keep doing shitty things, and then feel sorry for yourself like that makes it okay. You have to be better.”

I truly felt, for the first time, that I wasn’t supposed to like Rick. I was supposed to hate him. ‘A Rick in King Mortur’s Mort’ and ‘Ricktional Mortpoon’s Rickmas Mortcation’ were both episodes told quintessentially from Morty’s perspective. This meant that, of course, I loved Rick’s screen presence, what he offered the narrative, his dialogue, and comedy; but also that I found myself hating him as a person. I was so angry with him.

These were episodes told from the perspective of a victim, but with the gift of adult/outside perspective on the situation, which Morty doesn’t have.

It was truly a brilliantly executed narrative device. As the viewer, I was begging Morty not to go down into that lab. I was urging Morty to realize that none of this is normal or acceptable or something he had to go along with.

On the other hand, Rick is a deeply tormented character that is incredibly easy to empathize with, but it’s very clear that he’s not who you’re meant to be rooting for anymore.

With all of this in context, it makes more sense to me why Morty was pushed to the background to highlight Rick’s growth as a character. It’s a lot easier to empathize with an abuser- to feel bad for them and be on their side- when you’re consuming a narrative about their healing from their warped perspective. It’s a lot easier to like them as a person when you’re not facing the direct consequences of their actions on their victim.

I think that’s why there’s something so eerie about the ending of ‘Ricktional Mortpoon’s Rickmas Mortcation’ to me. It left me feeling nauseous and anxious; consumed by this anxiety from watching an unknowing child fall victim to circumstance, manipulation, and abuse.

Rick’s drunkenness in that final scene isn’t played for laughs, like in the pilot or ‘The Rickshank Redemption,’ nor is Morty’s hesitance. There’s this harsh reality that he isn’t frantically stumbling and running away in terror, like he did in earlier seasons. Instead, he’s just uncomfortable. This is something he’s used to. His normal is dealing with his grandfather’s drunken, violent mania. His normal is accepting his role- his destiny to be a sidekick.

This shot of Morty’s face is actually what reduced me to tears while watching the finale. There is something so unsettling about this look of, ‘Nothing has changed.’ Something heartbreaking.

Rick’s role is to fuck Morty up, and Morty’s role is to forgive him for it.

And Morty is accepting his role…

For now.

It’s a harsh reality to accept that your beloved protagonist is destined to become a villain, and I can’t help but feel that we’ve rounded a corner with this series where Rick is fated to be the villain in Morty’s story.

Evil Morty and Rick Prime might be the facetious faces of the ‘big bad,’ but I have this sinking feeling that our bad guy has been hiding in plain sight for a long time- whether or not it’s his intention.

[laresearchette]

Sunday, November 12, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: BEACON 23 (MGM+) A HEIDELBERG HOLIDAY (W Network) 8:00pm KIDS BAKING CHAMPIONSHIP: SWEETS-GIVING (Food Network Canada) 8:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT?: LAWMEN: BASS REEVES (CBS Feed) CANDACE PARKER: UNAPOLOGETIC (Premiering on November 16 on TSN5 at 8:00pm) AMERICAN MONSTER (TBD - Investigation Discovery) GOOD COP, BAD COP (TBD - Investigation Discovery)

2023 FIFA MEN'S U17 WORLD CUP (TSN3) 3:48am: Venezuela vs. New Zealand (TSN5) 3:48am: France vs. Burkina Faso (TSN3) 6:48am: Mexico vs. Germany (TSN5) 6:48am: Korea vs. U.S.

BILLIE JEAN KING CUP (SN1) 9:00am: FINAL: Canada vs. Italy

GRAND SLAM OF CURLING (SN) 10:00am: National - Men’s Final (SN) 2:30pm: National - Women’s Final

NFL FOOTBALL (TSN4) 9:30am: Colts vs. Patriots (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 1:00pm: 49ers vs. Jaguars (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 4:00pm: Lions vs. Chargers (TSN/TSN3/TSN4) 8:20pm: Jets vs. Raiders

NHL HOCKEY (SN360) 1:00pm: Chicago vs. Panthers (SN) 6:00pm: Stars vs. Wild (SNPacific/TSN2) 7:00pm: Canucks vs. Habs (TSN2) 7:00pm: Canucks vs. Habs (SN360) 8:00pm: Sharks vs. Ducks

NBA BASKETBALL (SN1) 7:00pm: Nuggets vs. Rockets (TSN5) 8:00pm: Thunder vs. Suns (SN Now) 8:30pm: Timberwolves vs. Warriors (SN1) 10:00pm: Trailblazers vs. Lakers

HEARTLAND (CBC) 7:00pm: Lou's forced to face the reason for her insomnia; Amy works with a new client who has a surprising connection to Katie; Jack wins over a prickly dude ranch guest….A GUEST HORSIE!

THE GREAT CANADIAN BAKING SHOW (CBC) 8:00pm: The four remaining bakers get fancy for Patisserie Week and the last chance to make it to the finale.

THE CURSE OF OAK ISLAND: DRILLING DOWN (History Canada) 8:00pm: Matty Blake returns to Oak Island and gets an insider's look at the incredible challenges and triumphs the fellowship of the dig have experienced this year in their quest to finally solve the old Oak Island mystery.

BIG LIES IN A SMALL TOWN (Lifetime Canada) 8:00pm: Young mother Rachel frantically searches for her teen daughter, Hannah, after their car crashes outside a small town; people die mysteriously in Rachel's wake as she gets closer to finding out that the local doctor kidnapped her daughter.

ETERNAL SPRING (documentary) 8:00pm: Members of an outlawed spiritual group hack China's state TV to expose brutal repression; celebrated comic book artist Daxiong tells the story of resilient activists fighting for religious freedom.

CRIMES GONE VIRAL (Investigation Discovery) 8:00pm/8:30pm (SEASON PREMIERE): A defiant victim refuses to give up even when a thief runs him over; an unarmed security guard saves the day when a gunman storms in; brave homeowners tackle flames after an unprovoked car arson; a crossing guard risks her own life to save a child. In Episode Two, a quick-thinking employee outsmarts armed thieves; a mother jumps into action when her son gets snatched off the street; someone attacks a woman in her own driveway; a burglar literally gets stuck, with comedic results.

SKYMED (CBC) 9:00pm: A sick patient hits close to home, leaving Crystal reeling; Hayley struggles to face the consequences of her actions when Wheezer discovers her secret.

BOBI WINE: THE PEOPLE'S PRESIDENT (Nat Geo Canada) 9:00pm: Ugandan opposition leader, activist and musical star Bobi Wine uses his music to fight the regime led by Yoweri Museveni, who's led the country for 35 years, and runs in the 2021 presidential election.

THE CURSE OF OAK ISLAND (History Canada) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): As Rick and Marty Lagina and their team relaunch their quest to solve the Oak Island mystery, they make a number of the most historic discoveries ever unearthed in North America.

[perpetual-stories]

Story Structures for your Next WIP

hello, hello. this post will be mostly for my notes. this is something I need in to be reminded of for my business, but it can also be very useful and beneficial for you guys as well.

everything in life has structure and storytelling is no different, so let’s dive right in :)

First off let’s just review what a story structure is :

a story is the backbone of the story, the skeleton if you will. It hold the entire story together.

the structure in which you choose your story will effectively determine how you create drama and depending on the structure you choose it should help you align your story and sequence it with the conflict, climax, and resolution.

1. Freytag's Pyramid

this first story structure i will be talking about was named after 19th century German novelist and playwright.

it is a five point structure that is based off classical Greek tragedies such as Sophocles, Aeschylus and Euripedes.

Freytag's Pyramid structure consists of:

Introduction: the status quo has been established and an inciting incident occurs.

Rise or rising action: the protagonist will search and try to achieve their goal, heightening the stakes,

Climax: the protagonist can no longer go back, the point of no return if you will.

Return or fall: after the climax of the story, tension builds and the story inevitably heads towards...

Catastrophe: the main character has reached their lowest point and their greatest fears have come into fruition.

this structure is used less and less nowadays in modern storytelling mainly due to readers lack of appetite for tragic narratives.

2. The Hero's Journey

the hero's journey is a very well known and popular form of storytelling.

it is very popular in modern stories such as Star Wars, and movies in the MCU.

although the hero's journey was inspired by Joseph Campbell's concept, a Disney executive Christopher Vogler has created a simplified version:

The Ordinary World: The hero's everyday routine and life is established.

The Call of Adventure: the inciting incident.

Refusal of the Call: the hero / protagonist is hesitant or reluctant to take on the challenges.

Meeting the Mentor: the hero meets someone who will help them and prepare them for the dangers ahead.

Crossing the First Threshold: first steps out of the comfort zone are taken.

Tests, Allie, Enemies: new challenges occur, and maybe new friends or enemies.

Approach to the Inmost Cave: hero approaches goal.

The Ordeal: the hero faces their biggest challenge.

Reward (Seizing the Sword): the hero manages to get ahold of what they were after.

The Road Back: they realize that their goal was not the final hurdle, but may have actually caused a bigger problem than before.

Resurrection: a final challenge, testing them on everything they've learned.

Return with the Elixir: after succeeding they return to their old life.

the hero's journey can be applied to any genre of fiction.

3. Three Act Structure:

this structure splits the story into the 'beginning, middle and end' but with in-depth components for each act.

Act 1: Setup:

exposition: the status quo or the ordinary life is established.

inciting incident: an event sets the whole story into motion.

plot point one: the main character decided to take on the challenge head on and she crosses the threshold and the story is now progressing forward.

Act 2: Confrontation:

rising action: the stakes are clearer and the hero has started to become familiar with the new world and begins to encounter enemies, allies and tests.

midpoint: an event that derails the protagonists mission.

plot point two: the hero is tested and fails, and begins to doubt themselves.

Act 3: Resolution:

pre-climax: the hero must chose between acting or failing.

climax: they fights against the antagonist or danger one last time, but will they succeed?

Denouement: loose ends are tied up and the reader discovers the consequences of the climax, and return to ordinary life.

4. Dan Harmon's Story Circle

it surprised me to know the creator of Rick and Morty had their own variation of Campbell's hero's journey.

the benefit of Harmon's approach is that is focuses on the main character's arc.

it makes sense that he has such a successful structure, after all the show has multiple seasons, five or six seasons? i don't know not a fan of the show.

the character is in their comfort zone: also known as the status quo or ordinary life.

they want something: this is a longing and it can be brought forth by an inciting incident.

the character enters and unfamiliar situation: they must take action and do something new to pursue what they want.

adapt to it: of course there are challenges, there is struggle and begin to succeed.

they get what they want: often a false victory.

a heavy price is paid: a realization of what they wanted isn't what they needed.

back to the good old ways: they return to their familiar situation yet with a new truth.

having changed: was it for the better or worse?

i might actually make a operate post going more in depth about dan harmon's story circle.

5. Fichtean Curve:

the fichtean curve places the main character in a series of obstacles in order to achieve their goal.

this structure encourages writers to write a story packed with tension and mini-crises to keep the reader engaged.

The Rising Action

the story must start with an inciting indecent.

then a series of crisis arise.

there are often four crises.

2. The Climax:

3. Falling Action

this type of story telling structure goes very well with flash-back structured story as well as in theatre.

6. Save the Cat Beat Sheet:

this is another variation of a three act structure created by screenwriter Blake Snyder, and is praised widely by champion storytellers.

Structure for Save the Cat is as follows: (the numbers in the brackets are for the number of pages required, assuming you're writing a 110 page screenplay)

Opening Image [1]: The first shot of the film. If you’re starting a novel, this would be an opening paragraph or scene that sucks readers into the world of your story.

Set-up [1-10]. Establishing the ‘ordinary world’ of your protagonist. What does he want? What is he missing out on?

Theme Stated [5]. During the setup, hint at what your story is really about — the truth that your protagonist will discover by the end.

Catalyst [12]. The inciting incident!

Debate [12-25]. The hero refuses the call to adventure. He tries to avoid the conflict before they are forced into action.

Break into Two [25]. The protagonist makes an active choice and the journey begins in earnest.

B Story [30]. A subplot kicks in. Often romantic in nature, the protagonist’s subplot should serve to highlight the theme.

The Promise of the Premise [30-55]. Often called the ‘fun and games’ stage, this is usually a highly entertaining section where the writer delivers the goods. If you promised an exciting detective story, we’d see the detective in action. If you promised a goofy story of people falling in love, let’s go on some charmingly awkward dates.

Midpoint [55]. A plot twist occurs that ups the stakes and makes the hero’s goal harder to achieve — or makes them focus on a new, more important goal.

Bad Guys Close In [55-75]. The tension ratchets up. The hero’s obstacles become greater, his plan falls apart, and he is on the back foot.

All is Lost [75]. The hero hits rock bottom. He loses everything he’s gained so far, and things are looking bleak. The hero is overpowered by the villain; a mentor dies; our lovebirds have an argument and break up.

Dark Night of the Soul [75-85-ish]. Having just lost everything, the hero shambles around the city in a minor-key musical montage before discovering some “new information” that reveals exactly what he needs to do if he wants to take another crack at success. (This new information is often delivered through the B-Story)

Break into Three [85]. Armed with this new information, our protagonist decides to try once more!

Finale [85-110]. The hero confronts the antagonist or whatever the source of the primary conflict is. The truth that eluded him at the start of the story (established in step three and accentuated by the B Story) is now clear, allowing him to resolve their story.

Final Image [110]. A final moment or scene that crystallizes how the character has changed. It’s a reflection, in some way, of the opening image.

(all information regarding the save the cat beat sheet was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

7. Seven Point Story Structure:

this structure encourages writers to start with the at the end, with the resolution, and work their way back to the starting point.

this structure is about dramatic changes from beginning to end

The Hook. Draw readers in by explaining the protagonist’s current situation. Their state of being at the beginning of the novel should be in direct contrast to what it will be at the end of the novel.

Plot Point 1. Whether it’s a person, an idea, an inciting incident, or something else — there should be a "Call to Adventure" of sorts that sets the narrative and character development in motion.

Pinch Point 1. Things can’t be all sunshine and roses for your protagonist. Something should go wrong here that applies pressure to the main character, forcing them to step up and solve the problem.

Midpoint. A “Turning Point” wherein the main character changes from a passive force to an active force in the story. Whatever the narrative’s main conflict is, the protagonist decides to start meeting it head-on.

Pinch Point 2. The second pinch point involves another blow to the protagonist — things go even more awry than they did during the first pinch point. This might involve the passing of a mentor, the failure of a plan, the reveal of a traitor, etc.

Plot Point 2. After the calamity of Pinch Point 2, the protagonist learns that they’ve actually had the key to solving the conflict the whole time.

Resolution. The story’s primary conflict is resolved — and the character goes through the final bit of development necessary to transform them from who they were at the start of the novel.

(all information regarding the seven point story structure was copy and pasted directly from reedsy!)

i decided to fit all of them in one post instead of making it a two part post.

i hope you all enjoy this post and feel free to comment or reblog which structure you use the most, or if you have your own you prefer to use! please share with me!

if you find this useful feel free to reblog on instagram and tag me at perpetualstories

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[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter Three

Wooo! Chapter Two (not including the prologue) is up now for my @dukethomasbigbang fic! Today's art is by @a-sketchy-character and you can find the glorious piece HERE

thx again to my betas @queerbutstillhere & @theycallme-ook

Today has a special thanks to @batgirls-appreciation who dropped out as a beta, but this chapter couldn't exist without her!

Summary:

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave. But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

Read on Ao3

Duke frowned down at his empty pad of paper, trying to brainstorm. It had been a mere twelve hours since the failed Rick Roll (though, the Rick Roll itself wasn’t a fail. Duke would be daydreaming about the chaos for years to come), and the day shift bat was itching for a way to make up for it.

Alas, the creative juices were not flowing that day. Duke had tried everything - taking a walk, training, meditation, writer’s sprint, and even resorting to watching prank compilations on YouTube. But nothing worked. So, he found himself watching the target Bat - Bruce - in his “natural habitat.”

Also known as the living room, mid lecture.

“But I don’t know what I did!” Tim pleaded desperately, trying to convey to Bruce his confusion.

Bruce shook his head. “No, you do, Tim. Dick told me you all will appeal to my affection to get out of the consequences for your actions -” wow, Duke remembered Dick using that exact tactic just yesterday, and it worked - “So I will not allow you to shirk the punishment.”

Tim groaned. “This is tyranny! I’m an emancipated minor, I don’t need to deal with this.”

“Actually, yes you do. You will be doing chores for Alfred for the next two weeks, and you aren’t allowed to run off to Mount Justice.”

“Then at least tell me what I did wrong!” Tim cried, throwing his hands up in the air. Bruce rubbed his temples, then glanced briefly at Duke.

“You know what you did, and how it affected those around you. And you’re grounded because of it. No room for arguments. Now go work on the sprinklers, Alfred has mentioned they’ve been finicky.”

Tim scoffed and stalked out, soon after followed by Bruce.

Duke considered relocating as well - he couldn’t very well observe Bruce if said wild furry wasn’t present. But something about that conversation that sent a light shiver up Duke’s spine, some small spark of inspiration.

An idea began to form in his mind, and Duke smiled slowly.

*****

“For all Bruce’s waxing poetic on the merits of high tech stuff, this pipe organization is seriously ancient,” Duke muttered under his breath as he glanced from the blueprints he had secured to the mess of pipes and spigots and nozzles in front of him.

Though to be fair, this wasn’t the Batcave. Duke was in the basement of Wayne Manor - yes, he was just as surprised to find they actually had one of those that wasn’t dedicated to the dark and mystique training of Gotham’s Protectors. And impromptu Mario Kart challenges, because as Tim had once told Duke “We all know that’s the real reason Bruce got a giant computer setup.”

Duke cursed softly under his breath when he dropped a wrench that began to clang around in the messy cage of metal. He set the blueprints aside atop the gallons of paint he had chosen, and reached around and down to get the wrench. When he came back up, he found himself face to face with his sister Cassandra.

Oh shit, Duke thought, as he tried to figure out how to cover for what he was doing in the plumbing of the Manor.

Cass squinted at him and, not for the first time, Duke felt like he was an onion trapped beneath her gaze, slowly being peeled back layer by layer till the young woman before him knew every little detail about him. Every thought or plan he ever had.

Duke began to sweat, unable to keep his panic under wraps. Cass was scarier than Bruce, that was just a fact.

Cass tilted her head a fraction of an inch, and Duke thought he was a dead man. But, much to his relief and confusion, Cass shrugged and turned. She walked lightheartedly out of the basement and to the stairs, whistling tunelessly as she went.

Duke pursed his lips, not quite sure why Cass had come down to the basement, only to look into his soul, shrug, and leave.

But that didn’t matter right now. As Bruce would say, “The mission comes first.”

*****

As all members of the Wayne family knew, the Library was one of the best places, period. Aside from the living room which was always a mess of pillows, bean bags, inflatable dinosaurs, spare semi-automatic weaponry and knives, the Library was the most personal room in the expansive home that was the Manor. Sure, it was cleaner and home to fewer surprise nerf gun fights, but It still had an air of warmth about it. It was the place that they would go to to rest after a difficult patrol. Where you could find Jason reading some book in a corner, Tim busy with WE work at the large table, Damian trying to teach Alfred the Cat and Titus to read picture books, Cass and Steph trying to be subtle about making out (though to be fair that was only half the time, other times Cass was working on reading with Steph helpfully giving her guidance). Dick would always be trying to decide what to read and but he would never actually succeed, Bruce would sit in his tall armchair in the corner overlooking every small detail of his children with a not-quick-smile-but-pretty-darn-close on his face.

Duke himself also had his own spot that he would work on writing poetry, or just surf Tumblr. It was a window seat at the far side of the library which was technically big enough for three people, but Duke had a strict policy that it was his and his alone and no he totally wasn’t bullied by Cass that one time to snuggle. Why on Earth would you ever consider such a thing?

It was in this spot now that Duke was situated, though he was not alone. Titus - yes, Damian’s dog - was draped across his lap. Now, Duke didn’t mean to steal his little brother’s pets, but it just happened. Titus was in need of snuggles or belly rubs when Damian was away with Jon or on patrol at night, and Duke just happened to be the only one that said canine could bully into granting him.

Thankfully, like all bats were, Duke was a multi-tasker. He wasn’t put off by having to scratch a dog behind the ears whilst simultaneously checking the twelve blinking dots on his laptop screen that represented his family members.

Duke stared intensely at the diagram of the Manor as all the dots slowed down and finally stayed in their predetermined positions. Huh, Tim was right. Stalking family members did pay off!

The dots suddenly stopped blinking, and Duke snapped out of his self congratulations. It was go time . He switched windows, then quickly pulled out his phone and pressed a button.

There were several screams that echoed throughout the ancient halls, those screams spoke of terror and surprise, and passed along the message that something was very, very wrong in the world. The status quo had been broken, and there was no returning from this.

Duke smirked down at his computer, where a dozen different squares displayed camera footage of the real time happenings of the Manor. Said footage was showing several members of Duke’s family drenched in paint. The same paint that Duke had meticulously divided and poured into the ceiling sprinkling system that the Manor had for some totally-not-plot-related reason. The same paint which had been primed and ready to be sprayed out of the spigots coating each bat with the perfectly calculated, even layer.

The paint had just finished being deployed, and yet several people were for some reason trying to fight it off like it was an attacker. Duke noticed that the swinging of bo staffs, AK-47’s and katanas were altogether unsuccessful. Honestly, the people who were standing completely still in shock, or who were trying to shake off the paint were having much better luck.

But then everyone finally realised that they weren’t being sprayed anymore, and a collective sigh spread out across the Manor. The onslaught was done, and they could finally gather together and grab the pitchforks to hunt down the responsible party.

It was then that the glitter was deployed.

The chaos immediately multiplied tenfold, and the screams sounded up again. The air was filled with the sparkly dust that was way too thin to swat away. (No, Duke totally didn’t spend extra time researching to find the world’s finest glitter)

Duke was outright laughing at this point, so hard that he almost fell off the window seat. Titus barked suddenly, and Duke sobered enough to get back upright and watch the finishing up of the chaos. He had to admit, this felt wonderful. If he had to describe his current state of thrill in two words, he would have admitted that he felt altogether too close to the Hellmo Meme.

Unfortunately, Duke was not Stephanie, and ran out of glitter eventually. The vents stopped blasting the film of fairy dust, and the bats were given a reprieve.

Though the break was short lived, as just then, Bruce’s loud bellow sounded throughout the giant house.

“ALL OF YOU GET IN HERE!”

Duke chuckled as he scooched Titus over and set his laptop to the side so he could get up. This was all working perfectly! He’d arrive at Bruce's interrogation completely free from all paint or glitter, which would immediately prove his guilt. And if that didn’t work, then he supposed he could outright confess. But that wasn’t the point of this. The point was for Bruce to come to the conclusion on his own.

He walked down the hall, completely carefree. So happy and confident in his own abilities that he never even noticed that Cassandra’s paint or glitter didn’t go off. That she wasn’t even present where the tracker he had subtly placed on her earlier that day said she was.

*****

Duke hummed to himself as he skipped along the carpet, past the antique vases and random finger paintings, past the drawing rooms and bathrooms, and towards Bruce. All was quiet.

Though that began to trouble Duke, as he got closer to one of the rooms which was very special. It was where Cass had been situated, playing with Selina’s cat Isis, for the past hour. Now, Cassandra was quiet, sure. But not that quiet. And besides, wouldn’t the cat be screeching right about now? Cass didn’t seem like the person to give a nerve hit to an animal just because it was being loud ( cough Jason cough ).

He slowly entered the room and looked around, but was surprised to find it completely empty. Not just of girl and cat, but of paint and glitter too.

“You were mistaken.”

Duke whirled around to find Cass sitting in an armchair, wrapped in shadows, and stroking Isis in a manner not altogether different from that of an Evil Mastermind™.

“Uh…” Duke replied, “about what?”

Cass smirked, and Duke felt a shiver run up his spine. “Actions have consequences. ”

Duke frowned. Wait, what? He glanced around again, trying to figure out what Cass meant. On a surface level he understood, but there was something about the way Cass was eyeing him that told him something else was up.

The only thing he could find that was out of the ordinary, however, was the camera he had placed just yesterday. Huh, now that he thought about it, he was at just the right angle to see it. Which meant he was in direct view of the camera itself. Pretty darn to close to where he had been planning Cass would stand, actually.

Then a faint spitting noise came from above him.

Oh.

*****

Duke trudged forlornly into the room where the rest of the bats - except Cassandra, who had disappeared after the glitter had deployed onto Duke - had gathered. He was one of the last to arrive, muttering curses under his breath, so all eyes were on him as he opened the door and joined them.

Though that also meant that Duke could see them. He had to admit, that as disappointed as he was, it was still hard to keep a grin from spreading across his face. Boy, he had done a great job with color coordination, hadn’t he?

Bruce was front and center, covered in a dark gray paint which had the sheen of yellow glitter. Dick had black paint completely covering him (much more than Duke planned. Did Dick roll in the stuff?) along with blue glitter. Jason had both red paint and glitter on him. Tim had started off with a lighter colored paint - this time red - and then the look was finished by black glitter. Damian looked like a small Christmas tree in his green paint and red glitter. Harper had blue paint then covered in purple glitter, both of which were the exact shades of her hair. Duke wasn’t a monster ; he knew how to match colors.

The cousins - both honorary and actually - had also been present. Bette had been appropriately targeted with a flaming orange and gold combination. Kate had black paint and, instead of red, Duke had picked a rainbow glitter for her. From the slight glint in her eye, Duke supposed he had chosen correctly. Jean-Paul had been doused in yellow paint and red glitter, and he honestly looked like a very large and human shaped version of his sword. Luke was covered in silver paint and an electric blue glitter.

Bruce, however, didn’t give Duke a second glance, covered in yellow paint and black glitter (which had been meant for Cass, but honestly, it fit Duke quite well), though he was.

“Good, now we just have to wait for Steph,” Tim remarked, rolling his eyes.

Duke frowned. “What about Cass? She’s here too.”

Everyone gave Duke a weird look. “Uh, no she isn’t. She’s been hanging out with Selina and Babs all weekend.”

“Then your intel is wrong,” Duke countered. “She was just here! I planned on her being here!”

The silence in the room was palpable. Before, where there had been bickering and accusations, the quiet had taken over. Everyone stared at Duke with suspicion in their eyes.

Finally, Duke thought, sighing in relief.

Bruce opened his mouth about to question Duke’s statement when the doors to the room banged open.

“What’s up, Bitches? The Waffle Queen has arrived and looks as fabulous as ever!”

Duke stared, completely amazed that she actually seemed to like the purple on purple combo Duke had picked for her. Oh, yeah, now that he thought about it made perfect sense that Steph was the only one to like this.

“Wow, whoever did this really got my colors right!" Steph continued as she waltzed in and posed in front of everyone, her hip cocked and arm thrown up dramatically.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed, and he began to growl at her. “This is not funny.”

Steph pouted. “What do you mean? I sure think it is!”

Oh boy, she didn’t notice she was digging her own grave, did she? From the looks of the other bats, they shared Duke’s sentiment.

“Stephanie Brown, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Stephanie smirked. “Yup! I look way better than you, you old fur- hey wait! Are you blaming me ?!”

Bruce glared even harder, and Stephanie started to protest, claiming that she was but an innocent victim of these pain-filled proceedings! It was not her fault! Nor was it her fault that she happened to get colors that she liked better than everyone else.

Bruce refused to hear what she said, and told her to go get changed. “You will be cleaning up this whole mess, and no patrolling until it’s done.”

Bruce turned and stalked out, and Steph was left speechless - for once - in the hall. She backed away, seeing the angry stares from the others. The only one who didn’t seem mad at her, was Duke himself. He opened his eyes wide, conveying pity. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed silently.

Instead of being reassuring, however, Steph squinted in suspicion. Oh shit, that probably hadn’t been the best move.

Just moments after Steph left, Jason threw up his hands. “Okay, who wants to have a water gun fight to clean off?”

There were several cheers of assent, but Duke quickly made his own escape at that time. He honestly wasn’t in the mood to get splashed in the face with water. Now was not the time for fun, as the failed prank still hung over him.

Now was the time for plotting.

*****

“Okay, but why on earth do you have a fully functioning sprinkler system in every room?”

“Yeah, Bruce, even for you that’s paranoid! What caused you to think that was necessary?”

“You.”

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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After a disruption meaningfully interrupts a character's plan or equilibrium, and after they've had enough time to react physically, emotionally, and analytically, there's an implicit question asked of the character: "Well, what are you going to do now?" This is the third stage in The Disruption Chain.

When it comes to story structure, this is the debate. It happens over and over. When a character is called away to an adventure at the inciting incident, there's a question of whether they'll go. When a character's problem turns from simple to deeply challenging at the midpoint, there's a question of whether they'll keep going. When a character loses everything at the crisis point, there's a question of how they'll recover.

In Finding Nemo, Marlin's son is kidnapped. What do you do now? In Star Wars, Luke discovers a message calling him away on an adventure. What do you do now?

Character-Specific Debate

Every time something unexpected happens to a character, they're faced with a challenge about what to do next. If the disruption is a problem, do they try to avoid it? Do they immediately jump into action to try to fix it? If the disruption is an opportunity, do they hesitate? Do they craft a plan to pursue it immediately?

The answer depends on the type of character. One character may hesitate and shrink away whenever they're faced with a decision. Another may spend hours putting together pro/con lists and weighing all their options. Another character may always charge ahead and follow their gut.

The way a character responds to a disruption also depends on the character's position in their arc. In Casablanca, does Rick choose to be with Ilsa or let Ilsa fly away with Laszlo to help the Allied cause? The answer at the beginning of the story would be different than at the end. Likewise, if Woody were faced with the question of whether to save Buzz from blowing up on a rocket, his answer would be different at the beginning of a story than at the end.

The most compelling dilemmas do not have easy answers. No one choice is obviously better than the other. Does the character do what's right or what's easy? Do they do what they want or do they do what they need in order to live a better life? Which side of the thematic dilemma do they choose?

Does the character need to sacrifice anything if they make one choice over another? Are they choosing between their safety and the safety of a loved one? The decision that a character makes tells us about their value system.

Anticipation

After a character has decided on a plan of action, they may take some time to anticipate the response.

For each option in the debate, the character will use counterfactual simulations to anticipate the consequences of their potential response. In other words, they'll use their imagination to play out what might happen based on their choice.

Anticipation may itself look like a reaction cycle. The character may sit with the emotional weight of any action that they're considering. They may analytically consider the potential results of their potential actions. Some actions are so potentially consequential that they warrant time for reflection. Character anticipation can also serve to induce anticipation in the audience.

Going through the decision-making process is an important part of The Disruption Chain. It's here that the character decides what to do and prepares for action.

[agerefandom]

Okay, this is just a silly over-sharing personal post about my experience of kinning and how that feels for me! If I’m going to talk about it on here, I figure I should introduce my… unique experience of it. 

Note: this is a vulnerable post for me, so please don’t make fun of me for my experiences or fandoms! Asking questions is totally okay, and corrections are welcome, but please be patient and give me the benefit of the doubt that I’m doing my best! Also, content warning for passing mentions of depression, insomnia, hallucinations, and flashbacks. The whole thing is a bit of a mental trip, so if you’re prone to unreality problems, I don’t recommend reading this! 

Right! So, what is kinning, or being otherkin or fictionkin?

That’s a really complicated question! The community has expanded a lot in the last few years, and to be honest, the words have kinda lost their meaning. (Some people from the old communities are mad about that, and honestly... I get it.)

I’m not otherkin, so I’m not going to talk about it too much, but it’s the longer-established community (although I’m pretty sure that people have been kinning characters, people, animals, and concepts since the beginning of humans, hit me up for historical examples if you’d like).

Basically, being otherkin is when you identify as something other than human! People have lots of explanations for why this happens: reincarnation, spiritual connections. Others see it as connected to their neurodivergence, and others don’t feel the need to justify their identity as otherkin!

Being fictionkin is really blowing up on the internet right now, and it’s when you identify as a fictional character (ie. Sherlock Holmes). It’s a nebulous concept, and some people are now using ‘kinning’ as a way to say that they just relate to a character, or they find a part of themself expressed in a character. Others identify fully with the character, or have memories from what they believe is a past life or alternate universe where they were that character.

I’m not gonna say that one definition of ‘kinning’ is right and others are wrong, because language is made to evolve, and my own experience is so complicated that I hardly know which side my own experiences fall on! But it’s important to know that both communities exist, and it’s currently hard to tell what a person means by having a character on their ‘kinlist’ (list of characters/things they kin).

My story with kinning, under the ‘read more’. 

When I was a kid, it took me a long time to figure out that other people don’t experience media the same way that I do. They don’t feel sharp pain in their leg when someone on-screen hurts a leg, for example.  

I have over-active empathy: I can tell when someone on the train is feeling anxious, because I start feeling my heart racing. I share this quirk with my mother, who’s a lot better at regulating it. It might be an autism thing, it might be a spiritual thing, lots of people have given theories. But it’s a thing that I experience, and that’s all that matters for the moment.

As one consequence of this hyperempathy, ever since I was a child, I have a tendency to ‘pick up’ characters: the lines between myself and them blur while I watch a movie or read a book, and then I can’t quite unblur those lines when I’m done.

(I jumped off the garage roof when I was six, insisting I was Peter Parker. I sprained an ankle and was banned from Spider-Man content until I was eleven.)

I don’t pick up characters as often anymore: I can go anywhere from four months to two years without the lines of my selfhood getting blurry. When I was a young teen, though, it felt like my head was just full of people who wanted different things, and I couldn’t tell which of them were me, which of them were my parents, and which of them were fictional.

Thank god high school is over.

Anyways, ‘picking up’ characters has always been a struggle for me. It challenges my fashion choices, my favourite activities, my gender identity, and sometimes even my taste in food. It lasts for two weeks to six months, and then I subside back into my ‘natural’ state (which was rapidly changing in my teen years, adding to my confusion).

It made me feel really crazy, because none of my friends had this experience, and I’d never heard anyone else talking about it!

It turns out there is a term for this, it’s called ‘fictionflickers.’ It’s a term for a wide range of experiences, but one of the things it covers is briefly switching to the viewpoint of a fictional character, or a temporary ‘taking on’ of a character. Exactly what I experience! It’s temporary, and kin-adjacent, but it doesn’t technically fall under the umbrella of being fictionkin or otherkin, which are more fixed identities (although some people would argue that).

I am so happy to have a word for this. It makes me feel validated, and like I can actually talk to people about it. And it helps me to deal with it without fear, knowing that I’m not alone in the experience.

But then there’s another category of characters, which only showed up when I read a series called All For The Game (or The Foxhole Court) at age 18.

There’s a character in this series named Andrew Minyard. Immediately, I knew he was ‘mine’ (in a way I often connect to characters that become fictionflickers). His name leapt out at me from the page, I could feel his actions in my body more strongly than the other characters, it almost felt like I could predict his actions.

Anyways, bad things happen to that character. Well, bad things happen to most characters in that series. But Andrew’s plotline hit me hard, twisting my empathy into one big bundle of terribleness. I had nightmares for months, always in his body, and all throughout it, there was this terrible feeling that I was forgetting something.

I put it down to being a really bad fictionflicker (although I didn’t have the term yet, I called it ‘picking up characters,’ and I knew it was a reoccurring experience). But it was weird: there was no real shift in my personality or tastes, aside from a severe drop in mood because of the nightmares and insomnia. It wasn’t like a fictionflicker at all, aside from the fact that I couldn’t get this character out of my head.

Eventually, the nightmares started bleeding over into my days in the form of vivid flashbacks and… I stopped fighting what I’d been too scared to admit to myself. They were memories. They weren’t my memories, they were Andrew’s memories, but they were in my head, and I was dealing with the consequences.

Everything got easier when I recognized that. It felt right to process them as memories, rather than hallucinations, which I had been thinking of them as. This change in thinking made a huge difference, although I couldn’t tell you why, and the nightmares finally stopped.

But still, what were someone else’s memories doing in my head? Surely that was weirder than hallucinations?

And that’s when I found the kin community, and threw myself in headfirst.

Memories are one of the key differences between ‘I relate to a character’ kinning and ‘I am this character’ kinning. There are tons of other people with character-memories!!! I’ve quizzed dozens of (very patient and kind) people who share this experience, and heard dozens of theories about why it happens.

I don’t really have a personal theory, to be honest. It’s weird, and it’s happening, and I’m still not quite sure what to do about it, if anything. Mostly, I just try and be more open about it, when I can be. It’s still such a strange and unusual experience, and I get nervous explaining it to people, but it helps to talk about it. Especially when memories or new characters are bothering me, and I need help to separate myself from them.

Sometimes the line between ‘fictionflicker’ and ‘kinning’ is hard for me to find. The vivid thoughts and cravings that come with my fictionflickers occasionally cross into memories, and it’s really only time that will tell whether a character is a permanent part of me, or a temporary identification.

Anyways, here’s a list of my permanent kins, and my more recent or significant fictionflickers! I would never tell anyone about these without all the context you just read, but I think you can understand me well enough not to judge them too harshly now. 

Here’s the picrew I used to make most of the images! 

--

Kins (and memories)

Andrew Minyard (Foxhole Court: mainly childhood memories: no memories of the book era, some pre-novel Palmetto memories)

Dirk Strider (Homestuck: non-game universe: caregiver splinter in a mess of a headspace with lots of folks around)

Holden Caulfield (Catcher In The Rye: hospital memories, and not much else)

Spiral (Magnus Archives: pre-Michael era, blurry memories, how it felt to be a labyrinth)

--

Fictionflickers (age 16-22, not in chronological order)

Bill Cipher (Gravity Falls: two months: had some very confusing times thinking I had one eye. Enjoyed the music taste.)

Wade Wilson (Marvel: twelve months: helped me get all the voices in line when I was a teen. Also, made me feel better about the eczema that used to cover my face and shoulders. A reoccurring fictionflicker every few years.)

Mae Borowski (Night In The Woods: one month: on the line of kin and fictionflicker. I miss her mother terribly. Doesn’t mix well with my fear of heights, since I want to climb everything. I get weird dreams as Mae, but I often get weird dreams.)

Alexander Hamilton (Hamilton: six months: worst fictionflicker ever, I didn’t sleep a solid night for months but I did get straight As and met the Prime Minister. Long story.)

Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty: two months: absolutely terrible person to have in your head. I wrote some songs, stayed up late, and dressed defensively feminine. I usually refuse to admit that I have memories from a version of him, because I’m not putting that name on my proper kinlist.)

Kevin (Welcome To Night Vale: ?one month?: another kin/fictionflicker blurry line. He makes my mouth hurt when I listen to his episodes. He was bringing up my Spiral memories before The Magnus Archives ever came out.)

Courfeyrac (Les Miserables: four months: brilliant era. Had so much energy. Joined a political group on campus, made donuts for people, and generally had a good time. Dated too many of my friends, though.)

[lordterrax]

Lightbound

Aside from what Andrew Hussie wrote, and what I wrote on my LordOfClasspect blog about lightbound. There is something I wanted to go further into detail about that is pretty evidently clear in all examples of Lightbound that I think is pretty interesting.

So basically, aside from knowledge Lightbound are marked by an extreme challenge with Morality. Hussie describes that lightbound tend to find loopholes around the rules. This generally works out for them but it becomes a problem in that they often times end up with a distorted or grey perspective of morality, which leads into a tendency that when they do Wrong, they are explicitly Evil and marked by a curse.

Rose Lalonde tried to loophole the game Sburb, and in the process directly destroyed the game's architecture and doomed the entire session even for her friends. Nearly casting them all out into the Void to be eaten by the horrorterrors. Whether explicit or implicit she became the villain defacto. Even her alcoholism in general signifies that she doesn't care enough to recognize that even her seemingly lowly necessary Seer title was absolutely critical and responsible for the success and wellbeing of not just herself but her friends as well. Similar to Dirk's darkest bout of negligence towards his friends but more direct, straightforward and exact.

Vriska snapped the spine of an innocent and continues on destiny's path as if she will face no consequences. Constantly hijacks the plot and spotlight regardless of whether this is actually optimal or not. Her best character development came when she was humble and beating herself up as an inverted expression of her role. Then she could face up to her direct fault and flaws.

Aranae becomes so selfish she will literally doom another version of herself to do it, trying to make herself Alpha by force. In the process she disrupts both Jake and Dirk, Jake in a fundamental way and makes it clear she has no qualms with hurting Dirk to get what she wants. She goes from an extremely patient and kind being to one of impatience and grey morality.

Outside of Homestuck Canon, you have Rick Sanchez, who is an apt example to bring wider representation. As Rick Sanchez is a Lord of Light. Recently it was revealed in a canonical short written by Justin Roiland that Rick is in fact Morty. Rick hands Morty a potion saying that it's from excretions from the memory parasite in season 2, and that it will turn Morty into Rip Van Winkle. He also overlaps his reflection with Morty's face, and points saying "Rick Sanchez". Thus it's officially confirmed Morty is Rick, and the implications and realizations for what this means are endless.

For one, it puts things in perspective. Throughout the entire show Rick and Morty's stories run right alongside each other. And it clearly paints a contrast and shows the way the world works for Morty compared to how it works for Rick. There's also countless references and scenes that completely change context if you realize they are actually synchronized time events synchronizing Rick and Morty in a way that makes it plainly clear that due to Time Shenanigans, everything Morty does and goes through influences and changes Rick's character, memory, etc. So much so to the point that it's obvious everything Morty does IS Rick's actual back story, and Rick "already did it" before, as it's defined when Morty does it for the first time.

The realization is clear. Morty is bullied, is dumber than others around him, and struggles hard to keep up with others. Somewhere along the line, originally, Morty just shifted into prop comedy and entertainment like his father Jerry, before eventually getting into Science and realizing that the mathematical, concrete, and absolute nature of Science played really well with his Asperger Syndrome. He then at some point invents a portal gun, and explores the universe. At some point he flies under the alias Rick Sanchez, which in the real world is a notorious alias for people needing a fake identity especially people who have done so many crimes they can never get clean.

Rick and Morty are so opposite it's not even funny. Yet that's what makes this so obvious. Somewhere along the way Morty has an Ego Death because of how the universe treats him, and he evolves into everything he wasn't. This is why Rick suffers and explains his absolutely nihilistic and cynical view of the world. Because as Morty he learned the hard way that the universe does not care about you, does not play fair, and will just keep pushing and pushing with no limit. Eventually he just snapped and flipped it around so at least he always wins.

Now the relevance here is astounding. As Morty he was a Muse of Void. Inspiring the Void but in a Blackwing way. Morty seems innocent and harmless and like the Hero, but his actions always invariably lead to suffering, death, and evil. Evil Morty is predominated Morty and makes it clear that Morty is just in all ways inherently Evil and Destructive, but in a Passive way. Rick in contrast may contradictingly claim he doesn't care, thinks morality is bullshit, and does things which are morally fucked up. But inversely when challenged by the Devil, has a special passion for wiping him in the dust. Meanwhile even his worst acts which seem on the surface to be so reprehensible that they are unforgivable, what we are shown are things which with a good enough reason to balance it out, actually makes him a Savior.

It's actually Morty who is contradictory. Void is ambivalent and while Voidbound have half Light in them, Morty is the one who is ambivalent when it really matters and doesn't actually care when he absolutely should. Only to challenge Rick's authority and to rebel does Morty act like he's the good guy that really cares. Needless to say if we read the entire story a different way, Rick was inverted originally. As a single entity he became Light more and more over time, but it was a long process of trial and error. In the process to becoming the All Powerful Rick, Morty carries a lot of Moral Baggage. Every Rick has done something virtually ubforgiveable but continues moving through the universe running on as much borrowed time as he can get. Not really deserving everything he has and is but continues on anyways. Changing the Rick and Morty story in a very keen way if you view it as 1 continuous character both ways. Making Rick appear more like Vriska.

Basically if we view it as 1 singular and linear storyline. Then Rick is trying to run along after doing whatever evil and trying to escape the very consequences he created in the process. Nevermind that Morty gaining so much knowledge and changing personality so radically has warped his perception of everything so radically. That he can hardly tell right from wrong, and has no sense of what he is or isn't allowed to do. And technically he has the power to back it up. So much so it's hinted throughout the show of how Morty would have abused his science to do things for his own personal gain. Fridge Horror stuff.

The point is this is a perfect example of what I mean about Lightbound. Even Thor from Marvel Avengers has the fact that his family has a history of Genocide, and it's in his own veins as much as it was in his father's.

Lightbound embody the aspect of Perfection and Holiness. But as it has become obvious this has to be a story of a flawed mortal BECOMING the epitome of this... And God/The Universe is so forgiving and encompassing that nobody said you couldn't break a few eggs to make an omelet. What matters is where you end up/the destination/your intended goal.

Lightbound may mess up more than others, and in vastly worse ways than other Bound. But they succeed more than others do, and go farther.

[disappearinginq]

First 20

Tagged by @dragonnan - I have the memory of a gnat, so I have no idea when I was tagged, but just noticed it now. 

Guidelines: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all.) Choose your favourite opening line, tag some friends!

I have a mix of fandoms below - Deception, Torchwood/Doctor Who, Magnum PI 2018, White Collar, Merlin, Arrow, and Lucifer. 

Wrong Side of Heaven -  “So you’re telling me, you HALO jumped into North Korea –” Masters asked, scribbling as fast as he could in his notebook, writing indecipherable to anyone who tried to read it except for him, “for what? A possible defector? I didn’t even know we had actionable intel from there.”

Bad Things Happen (this is sort of a weird one since it’s multiple chapters but individual story lines that don’t necessarily connect, so I’m just doing the first chapter)-   “Jesus, Nuzo…”

Miracles -  “Look, I’m just saying – step – it’s a misnomer calling it a hostile takeover if there’s no fighting involved,” Danny said, as they walked along the sidewalk, Matt’s hand resting on Danny’s elbow as the younger man continued to rant about corporate lingo.

Found Family -  Rick tugged at the stiff collar of his dress blues for the umpteeth time, stretching the starched material a little further every time.

All That Grace -  She’d never actually stopped to look around the guest house since Magnum moved in.

Jinx -  “People are gonna start thinking you’re a jinx, Major.”

Crash -  Katsumoto jolted awake, sucking in a deep breath he instantly regretted.

Once Bitten -  Thomas was laughing and joking around, pointing the neck of his beer bottle accusingly at TC when Rick caught it.

Into the Night -  Foggy regretted that he didn’t always pay attention to what was on in the news - he listened for key words, like ‘masked vigilante,’ ‘Devil in Hell’s Kitchen,’ ‘John Doe found in the Hudson wearing bulletproof Satan costume’, and variations thereupon because, well, reasons.

Building a Mystery -  Juliet Higgins wasn’t an idiot.

Carry On -  “Detective?”

Remedy -  “No, Lucifer, you misunderstand,” Mary said conversationally.

Icarus -  They hadn’t believed him.

Consequence -  Somedays, Jonathan got really sick of his father’s shit.

Mirrors -  Kay Daniels wasn’t sure what she was expecting when she met Jonathan Black.

Guardians -  Occasionally, William missed his life in Central City.

Wayward -  "Rift activity," Gwen Cooper called from the computer station.

Oleoresin Capsicum -  Something wet splattered across his face.

Sand Castles -  If Morgause and Morgana didn't manage to kill Arthur, Merlin most certainly would.

Fair Warning -  Morgana was seething.

The fandoms are hella mixed - but I do tend to write in batches of fandom (and these are also just in the order they were posted or in some case, cross posted from FFN to AO3). 

And honestly - for opening lines, it’s a tie between two in the same fandom - the ones from Into the Night and Miracles, which are Iron Fist/Daredevil crossovers written for challenges. 

Tagging: @beguilewritesstuff, @ariaadagio (I forget if you play games - is it your off season yet? :-) ), @amandagaelic, @vix-has-arrived, @21forestglades, @aliathewriter, @itsjustdg aaaaaaaaand anyone else who would like to play 

[evilmortys]

“Well, it’s great to have you back here in our chambers again. And by that, we of course mean that it’s literally the worst to have you back here in our chambers, C-136.” There’s a definite familiarity in the way Riq IV utters his indicative numerals that rings almost personal, but understandably, there’s little fondness behind his severe greeting. Jesus Christ, he thinks to himself sourly, this fucking Morty again. “You know how this goes, so let’s get right to it. State your name and dimension number for the record, turd.”

“Yeah, well, here’s somethin’ for the record: I’m not- I’m actually not too jazzed about it myself, y’know? Every time I get hauled here, I gotta- I gotta look you guys in the faces for like, an hour. And they’re really ugly ones.” Morty rebukes, arms folded over his chest defensively. His insides quiver like jelly. Deep down, he’s actually really not so good with this confrontation stuff, believe it or not. What Morty is? Still, he can’t half pretend to be unflinching when a situation calls for it. Nerves sufficiently steeled and outward appearance nothing short of done with this shit, he obliges the demand. “Mortimer Smith, Earth Dimension C-136. No additional numerals applicable.”

“Watch it.” Another council member snaps suddenly, already infuriated by the blatant lack of respect, and Morty’s gaze drifts to the secondary speaker. Hazel eyes rest upon the decrepit figure boredly, and he inwardly debates whether it’d be worth it to point out he doesn’t even know the name of any of these other assholes- that’s- that’s about how relevant their input is to him right now. Probably shouldn’t, he concedes grudgingly. Don’t bite the bullet when it comes to spitting snark, y’know? Employing restraint now leaves wiggle room to get away with saying more once this discussion inevitably goes to shit. He looks back to their spokesperson wordlessly, gaze expectant.

“Yes, Rick Prime, you’re absolutely right. He says what we’re all thinking! Now... let me see what you’ve gotten up to this time, C-136. While I’m reading the report over, why don’t you go ahead and tell me: who the fuck do you think you are? And why do you think you can get away with this shit? We’d all love to hear it.” Riq IV gathers up the loose-leaf before him and taps the papers against the imperial desk he sits behind, neatening the stack before beginning to look them over.

“I don’t think I’m anyone- anyone... look, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Morty protests defensively. “There’s nothing I’d even be getting away with! That’s- whatever’s written there, it won’t- it’ll all be a bunch of bullshit!”

“Really? Because let me tell you, this is all lining up very well with what we’ve come to expect of your character.” Riq IV heaves a world weary sigh, bracing himself for what’s to come (this particular turd, and the circumstance of his Rick being such a generous contributor, always makes everything so difficult), and passes the report along for the other council members to peruse. Can’t effectively threaten this one, really. But like hell he won’t try. “Here’s our working theory, turd. You believe that you’re special, and brave, or some shit, and- and you think that because your Rick happens to donate to us often that we have to tolerate this kind of shit from you and take it on the chin. That your actions here don’t have consequence. Am I in the ballpark, C-136?”

“Not even close!”

“Then do you want to tell us what the fuck happened?! Do you want to, oh, I don’t know--- clue the council in on why you saw fit to push a Rick to the ground, stamp repeatedly on his ballsack, and punch him in the face until... he- cried---? Jesus Christ, in- in hindsight- this geezer’s not reflecting on us well. How does this even happen? He got fucked up by a Morty? I mean, at that point, you pretty much deserve whatever happens, right? What the fuck was I even reading there, y’know?” 

Riq IV isn’t quite addressing C-136 come the end of that impassioned order for an explanation, and is instead glancing at the other members incredulously, brow knitted indignantly. The other four Ricks murmur heatedly in irritable agreement, though they’re keen to point out Mortys should never possess the balls to lash out at a Rick violently regardless. With a nod of his head, the spokesman looks down upon the yellow-shirted bastard beneath him, and snaps, “Whenever you’re ready, C-136. Take your time! I know you think this Citadel bows to your goddamn whims either way. Go ahead and phone a fucking friend- why not? You’re- you’re a little monster.”

“Oh, I’m ready, you stupid haircut having- you’re a- dumb ass motherfucker,” Morty spits vehemently, gritting his teeth, before catching himself. His gaze briefly averts, as if in wordless apology for his blunt outburst. He draws himself up slightly, gesticulating with his hands as he attempts to get across his reasoning. “Look, I know it sounds bad. It was bad! It was! I know. But that Rick, he- he was, he was pushing this Morty around, being such a dick, making fun of him, and- there was... he didn’t even have a reason! That Morty was mute, y’know? He’d- he’d had his tongue cut out, or- or maybe ripped out by some sorta alien... I don’t know. He was making this awful gurgling noise, he was frightened, and- what, was I just supposed t- to walk on by? Pretend I couldn’t see that happening?!”

“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.” Riq IV says pointedly, as if affronted he has to clarify the obvious at all. “We can only assume that Morty was behaving in a way to make him deserve that, just as you should have assumed, turd. Besides, I’ll have you know that tongueless Mortys are in, uh- pretty high demand, for the more morally ambiguous Ricks. In fact, I’m pretty sure we offer services for a humane snip of the tongue. We do that, guys, right? ... Maybe it’s more of a black market thing? Yes. It’s- it’s just an adjustment that can be made to you little bastards, for a price, much like implanting chips into your spines and weaponizing you for efficiency. And let me tell you something: it’s one that I plan to recommend to your grandfather if you continue to push your luck. Our tolerance only goes so far, no matter how much of an asset Rick C-136 is to the development of our Citadel. We won’t exactly crumble without him.”

“Fuck you! Wh- what the fuck is WRONG with you?! Y- you wanna know something?! You wanna know what I think?! Don’t answer: I- I know you don’t, but fuck you, and listen up anyway! Every single one of you BASTARDS are DEFINITELY gonna die with each other’s dicks in your throat from how much you suck each other off! How can you sit up there, and say shit like that, and- and not hear how fucking awful you all sound?!” 

His gesturing hands have long since returned to his sides, and his arms are tensed where they rest- C-136 is acutely aware of the fact that he’s trembling, shaking with anger that has never felt more well founded. Despite himself, he curls his fingers and balls them into fists, as if- as if he could swing for those smug motherfuckers up there from all the way down here. Morty has to jut his chin just to regard them with all this fury, and there’s nothing to goddamn do with it- his breathing quivers from his lungs tensely, and there’s a challenging look crystal clear in his blazing eyes. Can’t do anything about it, the reminder bangs in his brain. The Guard Ricks posted all around don’t even motion to grip their guns tighter, because they fucking know it, and the council fucking knows it, and they know he’s painfully aware of it, too. 

Their broad, shit-eating grins say it all--- at least, they do, until Ricktiminus Sancheziminius sees fit to glance upward briefly by chance, and winds up visibly starting, and fixing his gaze on something else entirely. Somebody else. Somebody other than the spectacle of that notoriously difficult Morty having an outburst. Ricktiminus Sancheziminius nudges Riq IV sharply in the side, and upon gaining the other’s attention and irritable acknowledgement, indicates the new arrival to the spokesman. He soon sobers, flashing the figure at the entrance to their chambers a bemused look- and the others are quick to follow his lead. Morty’s brows knit, and he glances over his shoulder- heart sinking---no, outright dropping---deeply into his stomach the very instant he’s processed it. 

Fuck.

“Ah, your keeper’s here, C-136. Rick Sanchez, earth dimension C-136! We presume our message reached you in a timely manner... and yet, enough time has passed for your grandson to spit vulgarities at us for quite a while. I certainly hope we didn’t pull you away from anything important...” Riq IV smiles strangely, almost as if simpering. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there is something deeply false to the curve of his mouth. Belching, he waves a careless hand, as if to dismiss his own backhanded, apologetic sentiment before the other can even respond to it. “... Though it begs the question of what could be more important than the Citadel. We both have this society’s best interests at heart, after all.”

“Yeah, y-eeeuurgh-eah, what-the-fuck-ever.” Rick replies, sweeping into the chambers and standing at Morty’s side, flashing him a deeply vexed look. He probably heard that whole last part, and out of context, it doesn’t really reflect well on the flicker of patience he's been trying to maintain all the while. “I was balls deep in the concept of time when you motherfuckers called me, so ex-cuse me if I’m not particularly chirpy about being called over this time around. He- he better have at least killed someone, is what I’m saying. I was getting action. Literally fucking with time. I- I don’t wanna fucking be here for anything less.”

Morty’s mouth falls open as he hastens to try and explain himself, ready to trip over his own spluttering words until Rick comes to understand that he was just trying to help- before he realizes, dully, that it won’t even matter. Huffing, the teenager simply looks askance, knowing full well Rick won’t take his side on this. Almost can’t take his side on this. Though it’s not like the other ever strives to have his back anyway. 

This train of thought is a bitter one, and it rattles through his head so loudly, all the biting reminders that he’s in a room full of people who don’t give a shit what he has to say in the slightest, that he briefly tunes out from the exchange between the council and his disapproving grandfather. Their words are little more than buzzing in his ears, but he doesn’t miss much. They’re just filling his companion in on what shit trick he’s pulled this visit. A sharp flick against the side of his head soon bumps him back to reality, and a deep scowl curls the sixteen year old’s lip as he rubs it, fighting the innate urge to bitch. Rick scoffs at him, before turning his attention back to the six alternates perched up there.

“See that? Not even listening. Look, this time last year, Morty was all over the Citadel, just like I am. Nobody’s saying anything about taking issue with this place. Nothing but support in the C-136 household. He’s just going through a little phase, in case you can’t tell. You ever had a sixteen year old Morty? Nightmare. Rebellion, he’s all- all stick it to the Ricks, y’know? He’s just being a c-eeeuurgh-ontrary little shit. Christ, the whole reason he’s here is to pick some crap up that I ordered- did you even fucking get around to grabbing that, Morty? Before you started swinging for Ricks?”

“Yeah. I got it.” Morty says shortly. “Laruxion ore.” 

He finds himself physically biting down on his tongue, as if to chastise it prematurely as it twitches to run away with him about what a nightmare even just grabbing Rick’s shit was, too. The shopkeeper glared down at him, and asked a few dozen hostile questions about what a Morty was doing picking up something so volatile, so potentially dangerous, for his Rick. If it were up to me, he’d declared, unwillingly bagging the package up all the same, you wouldn’t be running around with something like this. Taking it to your Rick or otherwise. Guy can’t pick up his own shit?

“Aw, jeez. Well,” Morty had shot back, unable to help himself, “don’t you all think we’re too stupid to do anything smart anyway? Either you think Mortys are capable of falling the entire Citadel with this ore, and you won’t fork that shit over to me because of that, or you think we’re dumbass, i- incapable, um, y’know- sidekicks. In which case, there’s- there’s no harm in handing it over to me. Right? Just saying, y’know. Y- you guys should pick a lane. Aw, jeez.”

Suffice to say, Shopkeeper Rick was not impressed with his take on the matter, and all but threw the bag across the counter into Morty’s fumbling hands, before angrily shooing him off.

“Might as well have done it myself. Can’t even run an errand without getting stirred up in shit. Look, council,” Rick grouses, pinching the bridge of his nose in a show of utter annoyance, “Let’s just call this square. We all fucking paid for his shit trick today, right? I got blue balls, you had to, uh... rightfully bitch at him, waste your... precious time on a dumbass Morty. And he’s gonna get a fucking earful. I’d- I’d say it won’t happen again, but, Christ- is- was he even entirely in the wrong? If a Rick can get taken out by a Morty, he’s not exactly a valuable member of this society. The society I funnel a lot of fucking cash into on a monthly basis, might I add. G- g-eeeUURGH-etting pretty sick of the same old bitchfest about every toe my moron puts over the line when he’s here. Do you guys do this for every Morty that acts out? I’m just sp-eeEUURGH-itballing over here, but- I kind of thought I was donating to people that had slightly better shit to do than pull my Morty up for being a little- a little angsty, or whatever the fuck, right now.”

“... We do this for Mortys that repeatedly cause issues within our citadel. Which yours does to the point of notoriety, C-136. If you’d only rein in your Morty, this wouldn’t be an issue to begin with---”

“Oh, my God- shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck UP---”

“Morty, YOU shut the fuck up. Sorry for him, as usual. Are we done here?”

“... Of course. We, uh, we’d like to reiterate our gratitude for your contributions to maintaining the-”

“Yeah, yeah, leave me another f-eeEUrrrgh-ucking voicemail about it. Come on, Morty. Y- you’re gonna- I’m gonna fucking kill you when we’re outta here,” Rick chastises, and reaches out to grip his forearm and pull him along as he paces away from his six alternates, muttering darkly under his breath all the while. Visibly nettled by the threat, the sixteen year old bitches top note and makes several efforts to wrench his arm free- and easily manages it once they’re back in the sea of alternates that is the main hub of this hellhole as Rick reluctantly eases his hold.

“Don’t grab me! And- and y’know what, don’t bust my balls about this, either. Would it kill you to be on my side? Like, ever? Wh- why would I beat on anyone for no goddamn reason, Rick?!” Morty explodes, and his grandfather rakes a hand through his tufts of blue hair and glares.

“You know exactly why, Morty. Besides. I’m not exactly in the business of backing you up- not sure if you’ve noticed. Because you’re never actually in the right. You’re just taking everything to heart and poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, as usual. Got that?” 

There’s a certain bitterness behind his words. How the hell do you think it’s going to reflect on me if they know I’ve never been able to put a lid on your shit, Morty? Rick sets off walking, and for a moment, Morty hangs back- hesitating to follow, eyes narrowed fiercely at the other’s retreating back... before he groans, and hastens to scramble through the thick crowds and catch up, demanding an explanation all the while.

“Why do you even put up with their crap, Rick? I- I don’t get it. You’re throwing money at a bunch of dicks, t- to support something you don’t even- to support the fucking Shitadel?” Morty gesticulates wildly, hazel eyes narrowed and gaze intent as he regards his older relative, forearms raised and fingers splayed out in a demonstration of utter bewilderment. “I’m just trying to understand why- why the fuck you would do that! Y’know? Y- you don’t even like this fucking hellhole! The people who live here don’t even like it! I just, I- I don’t---”

Rick’s shoulders slump under this bout of badgering, and, if only to quieten the idiot down, he caves. Lowers his voice and mutters quietly, so as not to be listened in on by anyone around them. 

“You don’t g-eeURRGH-et it? Yeah, I heard you the first time. Look, M-Bomb, if I know those assholes---and I am those assholes---being, y’know, blatant about hating their fucking guts isn’t the way to go. If I say what I think, tell ‘em to suck my balls and shove their society up their ass, how- how exactly do you see that playing out for me?” 

Rick pauses, as if awaiting an answer. Bewildered, the teenager beside him blinks a tad owlishly, and at long last, opens his mouth in preparation to fumble for some sort of answer. The very moment he begins to speak out uncertainly, his grandfather purposefully presses on with his point, much to the boy’s visible aggravation.

“I’ll tell you how it’s gonna play out for me. I- I know it’s a little beyond your, uh, limited understanding, Morty. They’re gonna scout for a new paypig, come in the night, haul us outta home, take my portal gun, and make me a fucking janitor, Morty. Meanwhile your dumb ass is gonna- you’ll end up in that shitty Morty School, taking classes on how to bark great idea, grandpa, like- like some mindless little moron who can’t think for himself. They’d parade you around as an example of how well they break you little bastards down into yes-man sidekicks, since you’re such a stubborn piece of shit. And that’d be if y-eeEUrgh-ou’re lucky, by the way.”

“... Ha. Yeah, well, don’t- don’t talk like you wouldn’t like that. The last part, I mean.” He snorts, and a brief flicker of amusement brightens his companion’s resigned expression. Rolling his eyes, Rick rolls his shoulders into a shrug as they walk, moving through the sea of yellow-shirted teenagers and lab-coated fossils.

“Only if you don’t talk like you wouldn’t get a fucking kick out of seeing me scrub a toilet,” he snipes, and they exchange a glance. 

There’s a brief, strange moment wherein something shifts between them- all the unspoken anger, the seething temper, the typical wariness that clings to the air that hangs between them seems to all but ebb away. 

Morty cracks first. The corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly, a fit of snickers rises in his throat... and the second Rick clocks that he’s going to burst out laughing, he cracks up, too. They laugh, and they laugh, and just when it seems that they’re going to calm back down, they catch each other’s eye and lose it all over again. The other Ricks and Mortys waiting in line for a return portal to their dimension cast them strange looks as they all but giggle feebly beside each other, adamantly refusing to meet each other’s gaze in a fervent effort to recover, now; letting things lapse back into their norm. 

All good things eventually draw to a close, and sure enough, this temporary, shared moment of reciprocal sentiment is one of them. The teenager can’t help but push it, however. Let it last just a minute longer. I won’t hate you again, just for a fraction more time. Don’t hate me again, just for a bit longer. While Rick moves to procure his silvery flask from his pocket, amused grin easing in the corners as his expression becomes idly impatient once more, Morty inhales, picking at a loose thread on his sweater if only to busy himself with something, too.

“Hey, Rick?” His tentative broach at conversation is met with a grunt while the old man slugs back his potent alcohol supply. Casting his grandfather a tentative smile, he fidgets with his fingers. “... Thanks. And- sorry. I- I know you hate, y’know, this whole- paying off this shithole, so we don’t wind up here, and stuff. And seeing those motherfuckers, and their stupid haircuts, more than you have to.”

... The sentiment doesn’t quite have the effect he wanted. Rick doesn’t smile back, once he’s finished downing the last drops from his flask. His brow narrows as he shoves it back into the pocket of his lab coat, and he shakes his head dismissively, refusing to take the attempt to uphold their good mood at face value. Disdain creeps right back into his tone- that distaste and disapproval over Morty’s every choice today rearing it’s ugly head with a vengeance, it seems.

“Yeah. I do. So I guess you owe me b-eeUURGH-ig time, Morty.” 

He returns simply, and Morty’s heart sinks upon registering the snippy edge to Rick’s tone... before he soon finds himself frowning deeply, annoyed with himself for even trying; consumed with that aching anger once again. There’s a certain, undeniable comfort to be found in how familiar the feeling is. Losing the moment of enjoying one another’s companionship, of things being how they were some two years ago again, stings. Undoubtedly. But it’s better not to dwell on them. 

Part of him always wonders if it’s his fault they are the way they are. Keeping each other at arm’s length. Essentially communicating through picking fights over nothing, and bickering over absolute bullshit, with terribly occasional, painfully rare warm moments interspersed amidst all of their resentment. If he were only more wide-eyed and naive, Rick wouldn’t be like this with him. Right? Rick thinks that Morty doesn’t know precisely what his fucking problem is, but it doesn’t exactly take a genius to decipher why he’s so harsh with him most days. Read between the lines of his grandfather’s unspoken resentment. 

No. It takes a smart, capable Morty, unafraid to call him or anyone, really, on bullshit, and injustice. And he never wanted that. What sort of Rick fucking does? The entire point of a Morty is to stand beside you, go along with whatever you say despite their own rightful apprehensions, to freak out and struggle and be impressed, awed, and horrified by the shit you pull. They’re sidekicks, but they’re never supposed to be all that competent. That’s the role of the Rick, after all. C-136 was fearful and clueless when they adventured in his youth, sure. There was a time. But he outgrew it far too fast, picked up on things far too quickly, keen for approval he didn’t want to give purely because of how actually deserved it was. Jesus, even as a kid, he was perceptive. Intrusively so. Full of cutting observations--- with alarmingly poignant outbursts over how Rick conducted himself, dripping with disdain for his behaviour, being plentiful from the tender age of eight.

Rick speaks.

“... Quit pulling this shit.”

Morty snaps.

“Quit being shit, Rick.”

They fix one another with a long, lingering look. It feels like a game of chicken- daring the figure across from them to be the one to break the prolonged staredown they’re locked into... and in turn, out himself as the coward ultimately too afraid to face up to the other. It ends in a perfect draw; grandfather and grandson tear their gazes away at the same moment, scoffing over how stupid it was at all, deliberately shuffling to sit a few more inches apart from one another. 

Distance from it, the duo both decide sullenly. Never as different from one another as they like to insist, unbeknown to the two of them. All you can do. He can’t be told.

Rick and Morty, Earth Dimension C-136, await their assigned portal back home in silence; the balance restored in their uncaring world, and dynamic decidedly chilly once more.

[animetrashlord-007]

AOT ~ Revenge

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Suggestive

Pairing;; Reiner x Bertholdt

Notes;; Published: 2017-07-10

My Masterlist

AOT Week Masterpost

   It had started as an accident but soon escalated into a war. The small event was blown out of proportion and the once happy household was thrown into chaos. Terror lurked around every corner. Neither knew when the other would strike. They were on edge, every creak and moan sending shivers up their spines. It was only a matter of time before the next assault was launched. Both were out for revenge.

   Neither Reiner nor Bertholdt remembered who was at fault for the first blow. Reiner played the victim, however, and accused Bertholdt of targeting him whenever he was vulnerable. His moment of vulnerability being when he was naked in the shower. The water would fluctuate between ice cold to scalding hot every few seconds thanks to the laundry machine running at the same time. Reiner claimed that the brunet was well aware of his actions and their consequences, hence why he believed his own reaction was justified.

   Bertholdt hadn't suspected it. He didn't realise just how upset Reiner was over the water temperature problem. It had been an accident, after all. He had already forgotten about it the next day when he stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes blurry and moist from lack of sleep. He was too tired to notice the thicker granules within the sugar jar as he poured some into his morning coffee. Stirring in what he assumed was an abundance of sugar, he took a large gulp. Bertholdt thought of himself as a kind, forgiving man, but that was only after he had his caffeine fix. Without it, he was more than willing to swoop down to Reiner’s level.

   Reiner, still in bed and waiting for confirmation that his plan had worked, smirked when he heard Bertholdt scream. He had switched the sugar with salt, knowing full well that the brunet was like a zombie in the morning and wouldn't notice the small change. One of the perks of living with someone for so long was learning their routine. Bertholdt needed the hot beverage or he couldn't function - that was a fact of life. He was also running late to work on this beautiful Monday morning and had no time to find where the real sugar was hidden. With a sense of pride, Reiner rolled over and went back to sleep. Little did he know, Bertholdt wasn't backing down from this challenge. His retaliation already awaited the blond.

   Reiner strutted into the kitchen after his shower. He was grateful that Bertholdt had left early today so he didn't have to worry about any problems with the water. He wasn't grateful, though, for the mess left on the counter after his little prank. There was coffee spilled all over, some even leaking onto the ground with a soft patter. Reiner rolled his eyes and ignored it. Grabbing a pan, some eggs, and vegetables, he set to work on his breakfast. Twenty minutes passed in silence. He slid his omelette onto a red dinner plate. Pulling the tomato sauce out of the fridge, he squeezed the bottle and gasped. The lid popped off and landed in his food as the majority of the container emptied out onto his plate. Sauce splattered onto the counter, mixing in with the coffee, as well as onto his shirt. Although he changed his attire soon after, grumbling the entire time, he noticed a red stain on his fresh white shirt once he arrived at work. He chuckled, the sound low and menacing enough to scare his coworkers, as he plotted his next move. Two can play this game, after all.

   Suspicions were high when Reiner came home. He didn't say a word to his boyfriend who was sitting on the couch with a slice of pizza. He didn't even spare a glance in his direction or visit the kitchen to fetch his dinner. The blond went straight to their shared bedroom and hopped into bed. Bertholdt hoped he wasn’t too bitter about the childish prank from earlier and just needed some rest after a long day. He knew Reiner well enough to know that wasn't the case. Soon he would find himself ensnared beyond escape within their petty battle. There was no sensible end in sight. They were at war now.

   The next attack came at the end of the week. Bertholdt forgot his phone at home and Reiner didn't hesitate to play the dutiful and doting boyfriend, travelling into the heart of the city to give it to the brunet. Timing his arrival to coincide with the start of a meeting, he returned the device he had hid a few hours prior. Bertholdt said his thanks, giving Reiner a swift kiss before darting inside the conference room. Reiner wore a grin the entire distance to the subway. The other male had let his guard down and now Reiner was ready to strike.

   “I- I don't know what this is, I'm so sorry,” Bertholdt murmured, his cheeks flaming as he fumbled to silence his phone.

   The entire room was staring at him now. Some had amused grins, some suffered from secondhand embarrassment, but most shot daggers at the anxious brunet as he struggled to unlock the device. “Never Gonna Give You Up” echoed throughout the entire room. Bertholdt didn't even know his phone could play this loud as he always kept it on silent. Taking a moment to calm his nerves, he found the volume keys and at last silence filled the room. His entire body burned with embarrassment as he looked up at the people sitting around him. One of the couple’s mutual friends, Annie, rolled her eyes. He cursed his boyfriend and his sneaky trick under his breath.

   Once the meeting was over, Bertholdt bolted out of the room. Running to his desk, he clocked out for lunch and headed for the elevators. He needed to have a serious word with Reiner. Searching his contact list, he almost cried out in frustration. Had he not been in a very crowded lift, he might have punched the wall. Every single one of his contacts had been renamed to Rick Astley and their photo changed to match. His text message and call history had been erased to boot. Dependent on technology, he had no clue what anyone's numbers were. He had no idea how to contact Reiner but he sure as hell had an idea on how to repay this lovely gesture.

   A few days passed without incident. Even so, every day was torture as anticipation gnawed at Reiner. Whenever he opened a cupboard or entered a room, he double checked it for traps. He couldn't relax in the shower. Not even in his bedroom did he feel safe. His nights were restless. So when Bertholdt told him he had the day off, Reiner knew a prank was fast approaching. Unsure of what his partner could have conjured up, he went to work and tried to put aside his burning curiosity and mild trepidation.

   Annie offered no consolation, either. He had called to check up on how Bertholdt was doing in the office as of late (and to weasel information out of her). She told him to grow up and that she wanted nothing to do with their game, but she also accepted his earlier invitation to dinner and that she'd see him later tonight. They ended up meeting in the subway before walking the rest of the distance to his apartment. Even though he spent the entire trip calming his nerves, he wasn't prepared for the final assault. Opening the door with Annie by his side, Reiner took a step inside the apartment and caterwauled as the fine particles poured down from the ceiling. Annie, who was known for her neutrality that bordered on indifference, followed suite with her own infuriated bellow.

   “What the actual fuck is this?” She screeched, trembling in anger as she gazed down at the glitter covering her entire body.

   “A-Annie!” Bertholdt gasped, jumping out of his seat, “I didn't know you were coming!”

   “Enough is enough already, you idiots!”

   “I’m sorry, Annie,” Reiner sighed while he rubbed his temples.

   “I can't believe you dragged me into this mess,” she snapped, smacking Reiner across the arm. “If you don't have this shit sorted by the next time I visit, I'll kick both of your arses.”

   Turning on her heels, she stormed out of the apartment complex, leaving a trail of glitter in her wake. The two males stared after her, unwilling to face each other. Their prank war had gotten out of hand and they both knew it. It had gone on for too long; it was time to end it and make up. Neither wanted to be the one to admit fault, though, and they weren't sure how to move past the events of the last few weeks. After several awkward minutes, Bertholdt cast aside his pride and spoke up.

   “Reiner…”

   Bertholdt glanced at the colourful mess known as his boyfriend and the love of his life. To his surprise, Reiner grinned at him. Throwing his irritation and pettiness away, the blond crossed over to the couch. He wanted his boyfriend back. Reiner pulled the taller man down into an embrace. Bertholdt squeaked when he noticed glitter transferring onto his clothes and skin. Reiner laughed and pinched the brunet’s cheeks, causing Bertholdt to blush.

   “I've missed you, Bert. Your touch, your scent, your body, your smile. I'm tired of being near you without having you. I want you by my side, not just in body, but in heart and soul as well. I want all of you again. I want our early morning talks and our late night cuddling back. I need your warmth. I love you and I miss you and I can't stand not being here with you like this,” Reiner murmured before pulling Bertholdt into a kiss.

   “I've missed you too, Reiner,” his words transformed into a moan as the blond captured his bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a light tug. Bertholdt ran his hands down Reiner’s back, fingers resting on his ass before giving it a light squeeze. The action spurring him forward, Reiner pushed Bertholdt onto the couch before removing his own shirt. He unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside, his pants loosening enough to hang off his hips. Reiner then unbuttoned his pants and allowed them to fall to the floor. His boxers clung to his body, his own arousal growing when he noticed the tent in his boyfriend’s trousers.

   “I know I've been a big dick lately, but can you find it within yourself to forgive me?”

   Bertholdt chuckled, beckoning Reiner forward with his finger, “As if I can say no when I have this amazing view.”

[gra-sonas]

In the next episode of The CW series Roswell, New Mexico, entitled “Good Mother,” Isobel (Lily Cowles) is determined to regain control of her life, which leads her to make a risky choice that has potentially very dangerous consequences. With Liz (Jeanine Mason) still hard at work at trying to bring Max (Nathan Parsons) back, Isobel finds herself isolated and unable to turn to anyone to help her through what she’s experiencing, which causes her to further spiral.

During this 1-on-1 phone interview with Collider, actress Lily Cowles talked about the downward spiral that Isobel is currently on, how hard it can be to pick up the pieces after your entire world has been shattered, the relationship dynamic between Isobel and her mother (Claudia Black), how scary and thrilling it’s been to tackle her story arc this season, how Episode 206 could break the internet, and what it’s meant to the cast of this re-imagining to have some of the original cast involved with and supporting the show.

Collider: Clearly, a lot of things are happening this season, and Isobel is just not having a good time of it, right now. How chaotic are things for her to deal with, and does she have a handle on anything, at this moment?

LILY COWLES: Great question. I was really hoping, as an actor, that we would start this season six months in, with Isobel having a little bit of time to process, she’s been seeing a therapist, and she’s a little calmer. But of course, that’s not gonna happen, when you have to let the viewers see her in the trenches. Unfortunately, the beginning of Season 2 is about as bad as it could get for Isobel. She’s lost her brother, her twin, her best friend, the most important person in the world to her. And then, she’s lost her husband, who not only died, but died having turned out to be a psychopathic alien serial killer, who used her body to commit murders and manipulated her. So, she already has a lot to deal with. The world that she knows has already been completely destroyed.

She’s always lived in a pretty restricted gilded cage that she’s built for herself, where everything seems like it’s really fine and everything’s really good, but she’s been very co-dependent on these two men, in her life. Suddenly, her entire world is shattered, so that is already really terrifying, and enough to make anyone lose their mind. On top of that, she realizes that she’s with child, and that she’s carrying a baby, which is something that, three months before this, she might’ve been really happy about. But then, she finds out that she’s carrying the child of this man, who was completely abusive and deceptive, and who totally took her body and took away her own autonomy from her. This is not the way that she wants to find herself pregnant. To be honest, Isobel probably does wanna have a family. I think what she wants most in this world is stability and family and community, and people around her who love her and who make her feel safe. But suddenly, everything has been turned on its head.

She doesn’t have her brother, and her husband was a deceitful liar. And not only that, but now she’s holding his baby. I think this baby represents, for her, the continuation of the legacy of a traumatic abusive relationship and something that has completely ruined her life. She doesn’t think she can move forward with that. I think she feels that she needs to first find herself and rebuild herself, before she can think about taking on raising another life. So, Isobel is in really dire straits, at the beginning of this season, and she finds herself in a particularly bad situation because she really has no one to turn to.

Max is gone. I don’t think she feels that she can talk to Michael about it because he was an unwanted child in the foster care system and he doesn’t feel like someone that she can talk about this with. Beyond that, there’s no medical resources available to her. And of course, Isobel is an alien, so she’s biologically different than a human. She can’t exactly go to a doctor for help through this. She functions as an allegory for people who also find themselves in a situation where they can’t get access to medical care that would help them have autonomy over their own bodies. She’s facing something really bad right now, where she feels very much backed up against a wall and doesn’t have many options. I don’t think that she feels that she can have this child, but what are her alternatives. She has nowhere to turn, which is what leads her to start taking some really drastic measures.

We’ve seen Isobel spending some more time with her mother, to varying degrees of success. How would you describe their relationship, and what do you enjoy about exploring that dynamic?

COWLES: It’s great. We didn’t really get to see Isobel with her mother, at all, before. Isobel has learned a lot from her mother, who is a woman that has, on the front, a very polished exterior, where everything looks good and she’s very much playing by society’s rules. This is who Isobel learned how to behave from. So, we get to see who Isobel has modeled herself after, which is a woman who’s highly attuned to social cues and expectations. There’s no small part of her that really resents her mother for that. She doesn’t feel like it’s necessarily safe to be very vulnerable with her mother. And of course, Isobel is also hiding a giant secret from her mother, which is that she’s not a human being. There’s that complicated factor, as well. She’s hiding something very big from her mother, but clearly, she doesn’t feel comfortable telling her mother that. We can all relate to that relationship with your parent where you’re like, “God, I love them, but they drive me crazy. All of the little things they say, they just know how to trigger me.” She still wants to be close to her mother. She’s in need. She’s a woman who’s completely lost at sea, and she’s reaching out for people. Her mother wants to take her to this warrior class and, at first, she’s a little cruel to her and like, “I just wanna be alone.” But she sees that it hurts her mom and is like, “I don’t mean to make you feel bad, mom. Okay, let’s do it. It’ll be good.” But, it’s wonderful. Working with Claudia [Black] is incredible. She’s so funny and so open. We were really having a good time riffing and doing some fun things, in Episode 2. Ultimately, Isobel doesn’t feel that maybe she can turn to her mother in a time like this, which also probably many young women can relate to, who find themselves in a situation like this. You would hope that your parent would be there for you, and yet so many young women can’t turn to their parents, for whatever reason, and have to deal with it on their own.

When I spoke to your showrunner, Carina MacKenzie, and I asked her what she was most proud of with Season 2, she told me that it’s the fact that she was able to really push the stories in bolder directions and shake things up, and have it be a little darker this season. Clearly, all of that applies to Isobel. So, without spoilers, what has that been like for you, as an actor to get to really dig into and explore?

COWLES: It’s scary, and it’s thrilling. I remember when Carina reached out to me, proposing the storyline for Isobel, my initial reaction was just like, “Oh, my god.” I remember feeling light-headed, where I was just like, “We’re gonna have to put Isobel through so much pain, and as an actor, I have to go there with her.” That’s not a pleasant place to go, and yet, as an artist, you hope that you get to represent all aspects of the human character and experience, and at least half of those are not pleasant. So, I felt an enormous responsibility to do justice for this character because I know that she is an emblem for so many women and humans and men, too, in general, who have had to go through enormous amounts of trauma and come out the other side. Trauma and really terrible things can lead us to places that we never thought we could get. We can find inner strength that will surprise us, and that we never would have had to call on, if we hadn’t been pushed. So, there is real value in taking a character to a dark place and exploring these really dark parts of the human condition because that’s also where so much of the beauty of courage and strength and vulnerability comes from. It’s not hard to be strong and courageous when everything is going your way. It really is in those moments of extremis and dire need that people have to step up and they’re called to show their strength. That’s such a beautiful part of life, so it’s wonderful that Carina is challenging us and pushing us to go there. I was really honored to be able to represent this story, although it was also something that I took very seriously because it’s a very sensitive and weighty issue.

Do you have a personal favorite episode that’s coming up?

COWLES: I loved the first three. I loved them so much. Eva [McKenna] is such an incredible writer, and she wrote the second episode. Deirdre [Mangan] and Carina wrote the third episode, which I think is stunningly beautiful. But I will say that our dear writers, Rick [Montano] and Vinny [Ingrao] knocked Episode 206 out of the park. It’s funny and wonderful, and a reprieve from all of the really high intensity, emotional drama. It’s exciting and it’s got action, and it’s got really juicy things. I think it’s going to break the internet. Episode 206 – tune in!

Things have been a little bit different this season. Last season, you had this little alien trio of Max, Isobel and Michael, and it’s different now, with Max mostly dead. What’s that like for you, as actors? Does it feel like a very different experience without that?

COWLES: Yeah, definitely. All of the actors on our show are so fun to work with, in their own ways, so it’s cool when you get to switch it up. I love working with Amber [Midthunder]. I love working with Heather [Hemmens] and Jeanine [Mason]. I love the little Scooby gang that we’ve got going on, with [Michael] Trevino and Tyler Blackburn and Michael Vlamis and Jeanine and I, all working together to like solve the mysteries of the universe. But I definitely sent a message, at one point, to Michael Vlamis and was like, “I miss you! I miss working with you!” I love working with both Nathan [Parsons] and Vlamis. They’re so different as actors, and they’re both so good and wonderful. Vlamis and I get together and we just riff and have so much fun. I hope, in some world, there’s a blooper reel that comes out with all of our riffing ‘cause we’ll just go off. Eventually, the director will be like, “Okay, enough! Just say the lines.” We rev each other up and get going, and it’s so much fun. When I don’t get to work with my bros, I’m like, “Dudes, I miss you!” But it’s also so wonderful to be able to work with other actors and get to know them. There were characters that Isobel didn’t interact with as much in the first season, that suddenly she’s getting to be bumped up against in the second, and it’s really fun to see how the different characters relate to each other and work around each other.

It’s also very cool that this re-imagining of this has been able to include some of the original cast, with Shiri Appleby directing and Jason Behr now guest starring on Season 2. What’s it meant to the cast to see how the original cast is supporting the series, and what’s it been like to have them around, on set?

COWLES: We’re so lucky to have Shiri and Jason supporting us and wanting to be part of our show. When you make an adaptation of an original, of course, you want to do justice and you wanna feel that the people who made the original are supportive of what you’re doing. It means the world to us that they’re both so excited to be a part of it and to work on it. It boosts our morale so much to see them and to feel like we’re a part of this larger legacy of a story that’s being told across generations. They’re so professional and so funny, and they bring their ow flavor of the original, that was so specific and good, with that tone that they had. They bring that into our show, and it’s so wonderful to be able to infuse what we’re making with that OG flavor. It feels really good. They’re both the most gracious, warm, friendly and hysterical people. I have a huge crush on both of them. If I got to out with one, it would be very difficult for me to choose. And that’s saying a lot because Jason Behr is everything that I thought was good and true, as a 12-year-old. But Shiri, man, is something else.

~ CoIIider

[notmyrick]

General Arc 7

/She had a Rick once/ She remembered, she used to love sweets. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane./ She remembered her life in Washington, in Michigan. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then she had a Beth. / She remembered the fights, the tears, the chaos. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Now she only had a Beth. / She remembered her lowest point in life, how her sun can in the form of a small little girl. /She had a Rick once, but she also had a Diane. Then a Beth. / She remembered a house filled with only women at one point. /She had a Rick once/ She remembered her life before she pushed papers for the council. A life before she became the most trusted advocate for the Citadel of Ricks, before she used her business expertise to grow this space hub into the most glorious city on the central finite curve. She also remembered how she was experimented on for her "unique" effects on Ricks. /She had a Rick once/ And she'd be damned if she didn't get her Rick back. /She had a Rick once/ After 10+ years, both Rick and Roxxanne dropped back into the lives of Beth. She was undoubtedly pissed, but after a few months, and a lot of yelling, Roxy was able to explain what happened, to Beth. With this Roxx and Rick was introduced to the newest edition to the family, they might've been 14 years too late, but the boy finally got to meet his grandparents. The first thing Rick did with his grandson was go on an adventure. By the time both came back for dinner, Rick was yelling "Rick and Morty forever, 100 years!" Roxy smiled, age lines starting to grow in. Rick and Roxx finally looked like grandparents. /She had a Rick once/ Rick roped Morty in his antigovernment sentiments and most of their adventures started to target either the Federation or the council of Ricks. While her husband and grandson went off adventuring, she had a mission of her own as well. She started to target every Rick that has done her or her husband wrong during their time in captivity on the Citadel. With her unauthorized portal gun and a husband who could make portal fluid with a snap of his fingers she was able to maintain this lifestyle for a while. She didn’t know why it took her forever to learn that her actions create consequences. But by the time she learnt her lesson, it was already too late. /She had a Rick once/ And her Rick bled on the asphalt of the street. The red liquid painted the ground with majority on black pavement instead of his body. She walked into the Beth's home, where all their, now only her, memories were kept. The destruction in the living room, the kitchen, the garage, everywhere. Her lips trembled, truly scared of what she'll witness, but she must. If not for her, at least for them. For her Jerry, for her Beth. For her Summer and her Morty. But most of all for her Rick. "Surveillance, playback security cams. Reenact crime scene." She ended up puking for an entire day after watching. /She had a Rick once/ "Blow up dimension SW-33T. Record destruction and blame on terrorist Ricks C-550, 301B, C-132, and C-137. Follow same procedure for dimensions A-17, Zeta 02, and alpha 9 and all their sub-universes. Send "evidence" to the Citadel." "Action confirmed, now commencing destruction on 12 multiverses." The AI replied. Roxxanne did it, she got all her revenge to the people who did her wrong, but she never felt so empty. She caressed the portal gun her Rick made her. She modified so she can go unseen, by even the council of Ricks. She was able to create her own Portal fluid since the passing of her husband. She felt empty, and now wanted to fill the void. /She had a Rick once/ She did drugs, alcohol, and sex, but they were so temporary. Why couldn't something more fill the void, why couldn't be happy? Then she found her vice. 

/She had a Rick once/ She turned her body toward the man she was sharing a bed with. Her vivacious red hair turned strawberry blonde. Her body, although impressive for her age, was still saggy in some places. She turned away from the ebony skinned man and got herself dressed. It was time for the act to begin. She grabbed the expensive but very valuable cigars he gifted her last night and left. She came back with a drugged-out woman with similar hair color as herself and draped her across the man. She checked their pluses and vital signs to ensure they were alive but knocked out. Finally, she gave a call. --- Roxxanne with makeup, a tank top, and tight jeans ran into the motel room and covered her mouth. She looked at her "friend" then at the two dead bodies on the bed. She ran back out, stuck a finger down her throat with her hands still covering her face and puked over the railing. Her "friend" came out and held her hair. Roxxanne started to pinch her skin, willing tears to come out. "I told you where he was at so you could work things out, not kill him!" "Roe! He was cheating on me! With a sex offender! That woman is a known sex offender in at least 2 states!" "What if you husband was the victim!" "Oh don't give him too much credit. Once I could believe, twice I'll pity, but for months! There is no way!" Her "friend" tried to bring Roxxanne inside, for a more private discussion, but she could already see the neighbors calling in the cops as the look out their window. "I’m going to jail. I should've never told you where he was! I can't go to jail, what am I going to do with my granddaughter!" Roxxanne broke down crying in public, she edged her peripherals to see some of the callers seem to pity her. Perfect. "Roe! Get in the room!" "No! I don’t want to! Please, don't make me go back in!" She protested and "struggled" against her grasp as she was dragged into the murder scene. The man she slept with hours before her "friend's" arrival had his head blown into smithereens. The woman she dragged in had her insides spilling out of her. She was a known sex offender with quite a racist profile, she would rape people of color and either cry wolf or torture them. Both were shot with a shot gun at close range, which is why the scene was so messy. "Roe, take the shotgun and hid it somewhere." "Please, please don’t make me do this." "We are already in too deep, you are now an accessory of murder. If you want to ever see your granddaughter again, we need to clean this up." Roxxanne looked passed her friend and saw and undercover cop car, parked outside. Roxxanne vehemently shook her head side to side, but her "friend" shoved the gun in her hands and shoved her out the door. Roxxanne shivered and shook as she descended the motel stairs with a shotgun cradled into her arms. Suddenly a man appeared in front of her and covered her mouth. She "jumped" and bit the inside of her cheeks to start the water works. "Okay miss I need you to- wait calm down, look I'm an undercover cop, not some bad guy look. Here is my badge. Everything is going to be fine now. We got witnesses that can testify for your innocence. You’re not in trouble." Roxxanne nervously shook her head and "complies" with the police. He took the gun away from her arms and told her to go to his colleague and pointed at the undercover car she spotted in the window. She agreed. --- That day her “friend” was instantly arrested and was sentence to life imprisonment. “Roe” came by and visited that friend for 3 months. Roe kept this friend sane and happy. For it was Roe who told this friend about her cheating husband, for it was Roe that was with her through the toughest times of her marriage. This friend talked to Roe everyday she was in prison through a phone and glass. In a short while, this friend looked forward to the everyday, mundane transpires of Roe. Everyday she waited for her to come back. Until one day she didn’t. This friend waited for hours, then days, then a week. This friend asked one of the guards what happened to Roe. They informed her that her friend “Roe” was assaulted last week and died just outside the prison. That friend got emotional really quick. The following week after being informed, she challenged and fought many inmates. By the next week her “friend” was found dead in her cell with no one cause how she died. The official cause of death statement: depression. Just like Diane. "Roe" disappeared neatly off the census and so was her “friend”. Roxxanne was on her driveway, garage open, smoking a big, fat cigar with a margarita on the side and sunglasses. Her strawberry blonde hair was dyed lighter and bit more pink. She puffed hazy air, relishing on the high she was on, lounging on a chair. She tapped the singe off in the designated jar that was placed on a cooler along with her drink. Although this game was quite messy, she killed three birds one stone. The void in her chest seemed to shrink, it almost made her feel complete, but previous attempts told her this was only a temporary bliss. 6 months, this game lasted her 6 months. 3 for the husband, and 3 for her "friend". She honestly thought the game would last longer; she overestimated her targets. She was always down for the long game. She had the time, money, and patience. For a 63-year-old she didn’t look a day over 50. Or at least that what she told herself. She was obsessed with a few things in life. One of them was beauty. She wanted to look young even though she did not feel young at all. Personally, if she had the option to choose, she would rather feel young than look, but she hasn't felt young since she lost her husband, so she could only go for the next best thing: looks. She was also obsessed with pushing people to their own toxicity. It didn’t really matter who, but she still has morals so she tries to aims this obsession to the disgusting people of the world. Finally, she was obsessed with- "Ah gee, Rick, we- we need to clean this up before mom gets home!" "Sh...ut up Mooorty. I... I've... You k-know what, just don't think about it. I al... always have a p-plan." A blue haired scientist just crash landed on his own house, burping through his sentence with alcohol splayed on his face. Beside him was a young brown-haired boy hunched shoulders looking at his grandfather nervously. The space craft skidded on top of their house and into their driveway. Thankfully for Rick it didn't crash into the garage, but the vehicle itself looks worse for wear. Oh, and the roof. Roxxanne took a sip or her margarita as she watched the Smith duo from afar. Her shades displayed nothing abnormal on the outside, the world oblivious to her actions. The scientist grabbed a familiar box and pressed the button. "Hi I'm Mr. Meeseeks!" "Mr. Meeseeks, repair the roof." "Can do!!" The blue humanoid immediately began the process of repairing the roof. Rick ordered Morty to pick up the metal scraps scattered on the driveway from the space craft. With only very little resistance, he agreed, and the blue haired man took off his lab coat and start fixing his hovercraft. The woman sighed and took off her sunglasses. The Smith house disappeared as she did so. Her eyes gazed around the neighborhood she actually lived in. Generally, a better-looking neighborhood than the Smith family. It was more well-kept, a bit more pretentious, and still a suburbia: the grass was a bit greener, the streets were well paved with no cracks, and the sidewalks were clean. She was a few blocks down from where the Smith family lived. She stretched in her chair before moving to place everything back in her garage. In her driveway was a posh looking car and inside the garage was a motorcycle. "Great aunt Roxx?" She stopped briefly and looked at the person who called her. She smiled and continue to pack up as she replied. "Yes, sweet pea?" "Can my friends and I stay over your house for a study session?" "No problem, just tell me the date." "Thanks grandma!" "No problem, Jessica." Once the teenage redhead left back inside her house, she finished packing. Smoking the last of her blunt, she also downed her margarita like it was a shot. The sunglasses she took off hanged on the shirt near her chest. She took a brief look back at the Smith house and saw the same scenario. She took the glasses off and placed them in a cabinet in her garage. The garage was well maintained and clean. One half was dedicated to her tinkering or self-repair for vehicles, while the other hosted her joy ride. She closed the garage door and entered her two-story house through the garage. In this dimension, she never met Rick. In this dimension she didn't meet Diane. In this dimension she never had a Beth. In this dimension, she didn't have anyone. Not until she got an invitation to a funeral. A funeral of her apparent older sister by a few years. She went out of curiosity, and met her grandniece, Jessica. Memories, probably suppressed by this Roxxanne's body, flooded into her. She had a family? In this dimension, she never found anyone who could keep up with her, thus making her all alone. In this dimension she was smart, too smart for her own good. She was a successful business woman, did time in the army, and loved to tinker with improbable science ideas. This dimension was almost an exact mimicry of her own, the only difference… The only difference was she had no relation to the Smith family. Her consciousness, after she died in her original body, rerouted her to this dimension. To be honest she was ready to start over, turn a new leaf, be a better person. Sure, she had an estranged family, but this was her chance to reconnect. In addition, she could be herself and not act in front of them because they didn’t know her. The set up was perfect. Yet, it all came crashing down when she saw a familiar family at a grocery store a month after.

She knew then, this was the catch and she was too curious for her own good.

What was this Rick like? Was he good? Was he Evil? Was he bad? Old habits die hard. Yes, she had one more obsession. She was obsessed with Rick Sanchez. This Rick was one of the terrorist Ricks. One of which she blamed for the destruction of a few multiverse. /She had a Rick once/ Rick SW-33T. /She had a Rick once/

And this was not her Rick.

[just0nemorepage]

The Titan's Curse || Rick Riordan || Percy Jackson and the Olympians #3 || 312 pages ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Top 3 Genres: Fantasy / Young Adult / Mythology

Synopsis: When Percy Jackson receives an urgent distress call from his friend Grover, he immediately prepares for battle. He knows he'll need his powerful demigod allies at his side; his trusty bronze sword, Riptide; and . . . a ride from his mom.

The demigods race to the rescue to find that Grover has made an important discovery: two new powerful half-bloods, whose parentage is unknown. But that's not all that awaits them. The Titan lord, Kronos, has set up a devious trap, and the young heroes have just fallen prey.

Hilarious and action-packed, this third adventure in the series finds Percy faced with his most dangerous challenge yet—the chilling prophecy of the Titan's curse.

Finished: February 18th, 2020.

Progress: 6 / 10. 60% complete.

My Rating: ★★★★☆. [4/5]

My Review: [Under the read more - NOT SPOILER FREE]

Let me tell you, it has been HARD thinking of reviews to write lately. I know it was an adjustment to get used to the Percy-narration style of writing from my last book, and I know it was hard to take seriously for about the first three-fourths of the book. But I know there were actually a few times when it made me laugh, particularly in its sarcasm.

I know I struggle with modern-day interpretations of ancient gods, and have a hard time taking even THEM seriously, but I do try to at least appreciate it. It took me about the entire book to manage it. Some gods were definitely better than others - Artemis and Athena felt like they were supposed to, dignified and regal.

I know I wonder where on EARTH any of the older half-bloods are, and why it only seems like all there are are a bunch of emotionally unstable teenagers. I get why older kids of the Big Three aren't around - but what about all the others? Why aren't they involved?

I know how the powers of each god manifest in their kids is pretty damned fascinating, though I do also wonder why it seems like the only half-blood kids to be had are in the US.

I know I LOVED the concept of Artemis and the Hunters, but I hated how little they were taken seriously and how actively they were disliked. It did seem.. I guess, redeemed? .. by the end, but it didn’t sit right with me at all. Only one guy grew to reluctantly respect them, though. The camp still hates them, for reasons unknown.

I know I don’t really like Percy much at all, though it did get better by the end. I know I’m also really annoyed by Grover.

Generally, this series is really interesting! It’s definitely middle grade, and obviously so, but if you can get past the writing style and grow to accept it, it’s really pretty good. It has its flaws, definitely, and some pretty severe ones, but I suppose these are Riordan’s earliest books, so I can only hope they get better over time. I do intend to finish the series – I’ve heard the latter two books are the best ones. Plus if the characters each grow older and develop and mature more, then I definitely see them becoming more likable.

Easily, my favorite part of this book is Artemis and the Hunters. Loved loved LOVED them. Kind of felt sour at the “not all men” as one of Zoe’s last’s lines, but whatever. Artemis turning her into a constellation just about made me cry.

I loved how everything made sense at the end! And still – my second most favorite part of the series is seeing how the powers manifest in the kids. I know I said that, but it’s still just so cool and so fascinating.

The pacing felt nice, consequences felt real enough, I appreciated that there’s very real dislike for Percy, and dialogue did feel realistic. Generally – I liked it. Out of the first three books in the series, I think this one’s my favorite so far. There WERE definitely moments when I was so annoyed I had to put the book down – namely at the treatment of Artemis and the Hunters – but overall, this was fun to read and was overall enjoyable.

P.S. Artemis says she chooses to take on the form of the maidens she hunts with. Older teenagers can still be maidens – wouldn’t it have been hilarious if she chose the form of a 16-18 year old, and completely destroy all the boys whenever she’s near them??

P.S.S. I sort of resent the missed opportunity to imply the hunters are fully asexual. OR, if they turn away the company of men – lesbians! Why are there no lesbians? Why must they reject love completely? Can lesbians join the Hunters?? Rejecting the company of men doesn’t mean rejecting the idea of love, for them. They could fall in love with their fellow hunters. And what about trans hunters?? Are trans girls welcome? Or are they boringly cisgender only? .. so as much as I love the concept of the all-female Hunters, it’s very cisheteronormative and kind of stale, upon thinking harder on it.

Meh. How disappointing.

The series will play out how it plays out, I guess. We'll see where it goes from here.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

One measure of the success or failure of House Democrats’ impeachment inquiry will be just how much evidence they’re able to squeeze out of the Trump administration. There’s already a surprising amount of information out in the open about President Trump asking Ukraine to investigate Joe Biden’s son Hunter. But now House Democrats must figure out whether Trump’s actions are impeachable, which has meant pursuing information from a wide range of sources within the administration, from Vice President Mike Pence to heretofore unknown figures like European Union ambassador Gordon Sondland.

The White House is, to put it mildly, not on board. Earlier this month, White House lawyers sent the Democrats a fiery letter declaring that the executive branch would refuse to cooperate with the investigation in any way. Since then, other administration officials have also said they’ll refuse to cooperate — including some, like Defense Secretary Mike Esper and Energy Secretary Rick Perry, who have said the information requested by the House is confidential and may be covered by executive privilege.

We’re likely to hear more about executive privilege over the coming weeks as the tug-of-war between the Trump administration and Congress escalates. And that’s because if you are a president trying to withhold information from other branches of government, claiming executive privilege is an obvious place to start. It’s a powerful but sometimes murky concept that allows presidents to shield certain information about goings-on in the West Wing from the public, the courts, and Congress. But it’s also not a limitless power. Just ask Richard Nixon, whose presidency came to an abrupt end after the Supreme Court ruled that he couldn’t use executive privilege to avoid turning over a set of incriminating White House tapes.

So if you find the whole concept of executive privilege mysterious (and you are surely not alone), here’s a quick crash course on what it is and how it could affect the impeachment inquiry.

What is executive privilege? How does it work?

Presidents talk about a lot of sensitive issues within the confines of the White House — matters of national security, for instance, are a big one. And there are plenty of legitimate reasons why a president wouldn’t want the contents of those conversations to be broadcast outside the Oval Office — if advisers had to worry that their counsel would be made public, it would be very hard to have candid internal discussions. Enter executive privilege. It’s a power that allows the executive branch to ignore Congress’s and the courts’ requests for some documents or testimony that’s related to either presidential communications or the process of creating government policy.

Where does this power come from?

Executive privilege is not in the Constitution, but that hasn’t stopped pretty much every president from trying to keep information out of the hands of Congress. As a formal legal concept, though, it’s still relatively new. The term “executive privilege” was coined during the Eisenhower administration. It was first recognized by the Supreme Court as a legitimate presidential power in 1974 as part of the Watergate investigation — although ironically, the justices went on to conclude that even though executive privilege existed, it was not unlimited, so Nixon still couldn’t use it to avoid handing over the White House tapes to a court.

To be clear, there’s nothing inherently wrong with exercising a power that’s not explicitly spelled out in the Constitution. But executive privilege’s vague origins do mean that we tend to find out about its limitations only when a president tries to use it in a legally questionable way — which means there are many gray areas in how it can be used.

What have the courts said about executive privilege?

Surprisingly, not all that much. In the Nixon case, the justices were clear that executive privilege isn’t a literal get-out-of-jail free card, in that a president’s ability to use it to avoid handing damaging information over to a prosecutor is very limited. But they didn’t say much more than that, and haven’t ruled on it since.

Over the years, though, some limitations have been hashed out in a handful of lower court rulings and by the Department of Justice. For instance, experts told me there is broad agreement that only the president can invoke executive privilege, but he can still assert it to keep aides from testifying in some circumstances. However, the president can’t use it willy-nilly even if he’s dealing with Congress and not a criminal investigation. He generally has to have a good reason for withholding information, rather than simply refusing to share something because he doesn’t want Congress to have it. What that has meant in practice is that declaring an entire topic or category of people off-limits isn’t generally allowed.

How has Trump been using executive privilege?

So far, Trump hasn’t been extensively asserting executive privilege in response to House Democrats’ impeachment inquiry. But administration figures like Pence who have claimed that they don’t have to cooperate because the entire inquiry is constitutionally illegitimate have also noted that executive privilege could be invoked later. And in House Democrats’ other investigations, Trump has been aggressive about his use of executive privilege, going so far as to claim it for people like former campaign manager Corey Lewandowski, who never worked in his administration. So it seems likely that Trump will be continue to assert it going forward.

If Congress challenges Trump’s privilege claim, who decides who wins?

In the past, a presidential assertion of executive privilege was the opening gambit in a long negotiation that often — although not always — ended with compromise. But if the president doesn’t want to give an inch, the courts have to weigh in.

But there’s still an element of gamesmanship to these disputes, as the legal process can take a very, very long time to resolve. For instance, a battle over documents related to a botched arms-trafficking operation conducted under the Obama administration ping-ponged through the courts for seven years. Needless to say, House Democrats do not want to wait anywhere near that long to make decisions about impeachment.

Granted, if there were a fight over whether the Trump administration has to comply with subpoenas in an impeachment inquiry, it would almost certainly be expedited. But that wouldn’t stop White House lawyers from trying to slow-walk the process and hope that it kills Democrats’ momentum. And even if the Supreme Court decided to swoop in and short-circuit the legal process, it’s hard to imagine how the justices could weigh in by the end of November, when some Democrats have said they want to have articles of impeachment written up.

Who’d have the edge in a legal fight — the president or Congress?

If comes down to a legal fight, the Supreme Court would probably end up making the final call. And it wouldn’t be a slam dunk for either side. Several legal experts told me that in a previous era, they’d expect the justices to lean toward Congress, since Trump’s use of executive privilege is so aggressive. But the high court has never weighed in on the scope of executive privilege in a congressional investigation, and the current conservative majority might be a friendlier audience for the president, given some of the justices’ views on executive power. For instance, Justice Brett Kavanaugh suggested at one point in his career that the case involving the Nixon tapes might have been wrongly decided.

What if Democrats don’t have time to take Trump to court?

Democrats’ best bet, if they don’t want to trigger a lengthy legal battle, may be to get members of the administration to defy orders and testify anyway. And that already seems to have happened in at least one case. Lawyers for the Trump administration warned Fiona Hill, a former Russia analyst for Trump, that information about “diplomatic communications” would be covered by executive privilege. But Hill’s lawyers pushed back, contending (among other things) that executive privilege doesn’t apply when there’s been government misconduct. Hill did reportedly testify about diplomatic communications (her testimony was given at a closed-door hearing, so we don’t have all the details), but she hasn’t faced any consequences yet, so that may embolden others.

There’s also reason to think that if Trump’s use of executive privilege was particularly egregious, it could be spun as an impeachable offense itself. It wouldn’t be the first time — in the impeachment proceedings against Clinton, the president’s use of executive privilege was called frivolous and corrupt by House Republicans. So if Democrats can’t get all of the information they want, they could at least use Trump’s refusal to provide it as more fodder for impeachment.