#the title seemed like a euphemism to me

[vimbry]

it's sad how many reviews and stuff around tmbg seem to centre linnell as the sole dark and creepy writer of the band, never really crediting flansburgh too. do "hide away folk family," "dirt bike," "rabid child," "black ops," "cloisonné" mean nothing to them, smh.

[an-aroaces-harem]

After reading Ellis' current event route finally without a translator right before I went to sleep, my mind went to interesting places in the 'trying-to-fall-asleep-phase'. Especially because they kept a certain scene in and it wasn't in awkward japanese euphemisms. Let me tell you, japanese smut is very ... interesting?

Anyway, everything under the cut because sexual territory.

You know, I started to wonder if Kate's the most sexual and um, open MC we have so far. So my mind tried to puzzle together the info of the other MCs I have. If I missed anything (especially ikerev and ikegen) feel free to correct me.

Also, as a note, I mostly referring to how the MCs were like prior to becoming a couple because in basically every game, the moment they start to date, the horny levels rise high.

In IkeRev, we have Alice and while she is older than she looks, considering the time period she grew up, she pretty much was a virgin prior to falling into Cradle. I haven't played much ikerev, so my knowledge is really limited, but while she seemed quite innocent, she also didn't freak out before doing the deed. Also, Seth's route, just saying.

In IkeSen we have Mai who's undoubtly the horniest we had so far. I don't think it was ever mentioned anywhere but I don't think she was a virgin prior to travelling back into time. Also, there was a event (I don't recall which one) where Mai and Masamune are definitely 69ing. Oh, she definitely initiates which is surprising considering how the japanese archetype of a woman is like.

In IkeVamp, we have Mitsuki. I'm gonna be honest, I don't like her and please, please someone take that ugly, plain white bra away from her. Anyway, I'm pretty sure she mentioned she wasn't a virgin anymore; it was just a little comment after (probably) Arthur assumed she had to be one. Who can blame him tho, she does seem rather innocent. At least we've got canon big boy #1, Theo.

In IkeGen, we have Yoshino. My knowledge is super limited, but I do know there was an occurence of Yoritomo teaching her how to do a blowjob. Oh, and prior to ikevil, Ibuki held the title of earliest sex scene and highest amount of sex I believe as well. Could be wrong there.

In IkePri, we have Emma who definitely is a virgin, considering her 'romance has to be like THIS' schtick she had especially in the beginning. Also, her topping attempts never succeeded (tho it's less her and more the writers' fault) and I don't think I have seen her initiating? She is kinky tho, considering how much she's into biting in Chev's and Gilbert's routes.

And then, we have IkeVil. Kate touched herself in Ellis' premium end in the handcuff event and I really wonder, did we ever have a MC doing that? Also, the amount of suggestive content prior to a route release is insane (I'm sorry Victor stans, I know you have it hard with the few crumbs). I do think she was a virgin prior to all of this, she she's rather open from what I've seen. Seriously, lets list up what ikevil presented us so far: William and Kate having sex in chapter 10.5 prior to a relationship, Alfons overtaking Ibuki's record, Roger being canonically big boy #2, the handjob from Kate to Ellis from the every inch of you ecb story, Jude having an actual sex scene (outside from AU stories) way before his release, Harry complaining that he's totally pent up after not having sex for ONE day, Harry and Kate probably 69ing as well, the vore stuff from seams like love and the list goes on ...

Maybe I'm just biased because imo, ikevil is the best game Cybird made so far yet. The stories are intriguing, and the story events don't feel like I'm reading the same over and over, just in a different context. Hell, not even the Don't Look At Anyone But Me event turned me off, even though I hate the jealousy trope in basically every form.

Anyway, that's what my sleep-addled brain came up with. Mai may be the horniest one, but Kate has so far showing more kinky sides, so they're pretty much on par. Again, if I missed something, confused something or anything else, feel free to let me know.

[lopposting]

Some more Lies of P translation notes!

Some cool translation details that I thought were fun that didn't fit anywhere else.

[long!]

[Spoilers]

In the Korean version, Geppetto is speaking an "old-fashioned"/archaic form of Korean to reflect the time period that the game is set in

Set around the turn of the century (late 1800s), mimicking the Belle Époque of France's industrial revolution, we can guess that the game's events take place during the late 1800s. Given Geppetto's status as "old geezer", we can guess that he's closer to 100 than not, so he would have been born around the early 1800s. I might not be completely accurate - basically, he's speaking as an elderly person might speak in current time to culturally reflect his age; other times I notice he's using some words that are now out of use.

From the game's initial trailer:

깨어나거라, 아들아. 이제 이 아비를 기쁘게 해다오. Wake up, son. Make this father happy/proud.

The word he uses for "father" is "Abi" (아비), which is an archaic word for "father". In current day, korean speakers would generally use "Abeoji" (아버지).

The -gura(거라)/-DaOh(다오) conjugation is also an additional syllable that has since fallen out of use, or is considered archaic, in current korean:

아들아, 네 심장을 다오. Son, give me your heart.

하지만 알아 다오, 나는 너도 사랑했단다. But know this, I loved you too. English VA version: In my own way, I grew to love you.

This is also apparent in Geppetto's final letter at the end:

우릴 방해할 자는 이제 없을 거란다. 너를 위한 크라트를 다시 만들어주마. (-juma, Supposedly, only a "superior" speaker can use -juma) 그때까지 호텔에 조심해서 머물러 다오. 너를 누구보다도 아끼는 아버지가.

He also uses the -Oh ending again. (although he does call himself "Abeoji" 아버지 here and not "abi" like the trailer. He uses "Abi" again in another instance when responding to a guesture)

It's a very cool detail to me. I think it's a bit missed opportunity that, as far as I know, the english version doesn't seem to reflect this! Although to be fair, I'm struggling to imagine how they would. 19th century english/french maybe isn't as different or isn't different in the same ways from "modern" english that 19th century Korean would be from "modern" Korean. [Well, my only education on this stuff is from watching episodes of Dae Jang Geum]. I haven't checked to see if any other character (like Antonia) speaks this way. [Pls message me if Geppetto also speaks like this in your or any other language version!!]

Lies of P, Blood, puns, and the P-Organ

The P-Organ, in Korean, is referred to as the P기관. 기관 (gi-gwan), however, doesn't necessarily correlate directly to the word "Organ": It's quite an interesting word to choose because it can refer to any system of moving parts, both organic or mechanical; and it can mean an organ, a machine, or even a governmental body or institute.

As you may have heard by now, the game's titular pun revolves around the fact that the english character for P sounds the word for "blood" in korean (피), making the title (P의 거짓 P-ie Geojit?) read like Lies of Blood, in a nutshell. The title Lies of Blood then fits into the becoming-real flesh-and-blood themes of the game, perhaps also suggests that the deception in Krat has cost the lives of many - and, of course, references the lying of the titular character, who is inferred to be none other than (P)inocchio! So, in Korean, the P-Organ (P기관) becomes something like the Blood Engine. Which rather sounds like a euphemism for a heart!

[Perhaps: It's also a bit of narrative that Geppetto refuses to refer to it as our heart, unless he refers to it as belonging to Carlo.]

In English, this wordplay no longer exists, and so it's rather awkwardly literally translated (as the P-Organ).

How do you say, "NEOWIZ"?

I've seen a few people ask about the pronunciation of NEOWIZ (Lies' publishing company). Hangul is phonetic, so you could (technically) say the official pronunciation of NEOWIZ (네오위즈) is Nae-Oh Wiz and not Neo (like the Matrix character) -wiz.

However [in my opinion], I don't think this matters, because when something is translated to another language, it often takes the pronunciation of the language it is read in. Kind of like how in english you would read the capital of France correctly as Paris (with an S sound at the end), and not "Pari" (french pronunciation).

Also, Krat is consistently pronounced by in-game characters as "Krot" (Long O, rhymes with "Cot" or "Not") in the english version. In the game korean releases, "Krat" is written as 크라트, which would be pronounced and read as "Krat" (short A, rhymes with "Rat" or "Cat").

[I think the devs also say "Krat" too. The rounder "O" pronunciation of "A" in words seem like more of a European pronunciation in general]

The "Youngest of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood" and Gender

In Korean culture, Age is particularly significant in both Korean social hierarchy and language, and the role/position of being the youngest in a group is a particular role known as being the "maknae" (I mean, I definitely think this also exists in the western world, people definitely would understand being the "youngest" one in your family, but it's slightly different from that).

Despite being a member of the brotherhood, she refers to her brothers as "Oppa", which is when the word "brother" is used by female speakers to an older male subject (Remember Gangnam style?) [A male speaker would use "Hyung". I debated putting this one in, because to me, it seemed kind of obvious, but I did see others asking about this.]

[Given that the developers are from a korean studio, I am choosing to believe that the subtitles provided by the game's "korean" version are the text/script as originally written intended by the developers!]

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi lovely how are you? Could you do a ”someone is trying to steal morpheus girl”? 🥹

A/N: Hey!! I'm doing fine, thank you! Exam season is right around the corner, so I'm living and breathing diagnostic tests, methodological models and theories of emotions.🌺

[MASTERLIST] || [Sandman-inspired playlist]

You know what the problem with Mona Lisa is? Everyone flocks like a mindless herd just to look at it as if there was nothing else at Luvr. Alright, it's the painting but it's not like there aren't any other paintings around the globe, right? And you know what that guy's problem is? He really thinks he's doing something with that sleazy smirk he-

"Are you doing alright?" Hob asked Morpheus. "You seem angry." It was a nice euphemism, a true monument of Hob's diplomacy.

Morpheus looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye. "I'm not angry," he stated in an ever-so-stern voice as if his act could actually fool anyone. After his very believable statement, his gaze returned to you, who was sitting sideways to the bar counter, sipping on an affogato. It was your own decision to leave them alone while they were catching up - it was their get-together and if it wasn't for Morpheus's desire to have you by his side wherever he went, you wouldn't be at the inn at all. Over your shoulder, Morpheus could see the face of the man who made him abandon his little chat with Hob - glistening eyes and a warm half-smile that made Morpheus terribly aware of his own tendency to be rather expressionless.

"Right, obviously," Hob answered with a wide grin on his face. There was something absolutely hilarious in watching the literal King of Dreams and Nightmares silently burn a hole in the face of some random mortal with his intense gaze. The atmosphere was only growing more tense, even if you and the charming strangers weren't aware of it. Tempted to push the swaying domino, Hob leaned towards Morpheus and added something quietly: "You know, you can admit it bothers you that someone is hitting on the girl you like. She is very beautiful, it was to be expected."

Like - what a useless word! Liking is for ice cream flavours or music bands. Morpheus was far beyond liking you. In some oddly possessive and quite pathetic way, he considered you to be part of him. People don't just like their own arms, do they? Instead, they find it hard, nearly impossible, to imagine existing without those very fingers, hips or knees; it seems strange to live in a body different from the one you have. Equally, how bizarre everything would be if he did not have you by his side! Like a parallel world where people have two left feet.

"It does not bother me," he answered in a husky voice before frantically getting up from the table. Hob continued snickering to himself in an infantile expectation of the uproar looming over the inn's patrons. But it wasn't only the human passion for action that spoke through him: in some way, Hob hoped that this fairly meaningless frustration will teach Morpheus something about himself and you - that if he doesn't cherish you, someone else gladly will.

With a characteristic stiffness in his step, Morpheus reached you and the stranger. His hand firmly grabbed your shoulder, making you think that something serious was going on and he was needed elsewhere immediately. You looked up at him but he did not spare you even a glance - his stern gaze was stuck to the brunet sitting across from you, whose once charming expression fell into something much more awkward. Clearly, Morpheus's appearance surprised him.

"We must leave," Dream spoke in a strict tone.

"Are you okay, love?" you asked him as you stood up from the stool and gathered your belongings. Hearing the affectionate title, the stranger whom you had been talking to unconsciously raised his cheeks and furrowed his eyebrows - disgust. Perhaps he considered Morpheus a little too, for a lack of better expression, bland appearance-wise to think about him as in any way equal to you. What a strange thought it truly was: that you, a mundane human, were settling for Dream of the Endless.

Feeling desperation crawling up his spine, the brown-haired man took the last chance he had: "Will I see you around?"

You gave him a polite smile while meaningfully shaking your head. "I can't imagine you will, no. Have a good day."

Following Morpheus's rushed footsteps towards the entrance door, you glanced over your shoulder towards the corner where he had been sitting, only to see Hob snickering as he watched the two of you leave the inn.

After a few minutes of walking, he stopped his march so suddenly, you bumped into his back. Morpheus turned around immediately but because of the lack of distance between you, he was towering over you. Having him look down on you with that unguessed, stern gaze was strangely both alluring and intimidating. There was a creeping thought in the back of your head that you had been oblivious to some scheme that definitely had something to do with you.

"Tell me," he began with a slight waver in his voice, "would a human make you happier?" Morpheus spoke quietly as though he didn't want anyone else to become privy to his own fears. There were many who would wreak unimaginable havoc once they got such information into their terrible claws.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say," you answered. Feeling flustering at how close you two were, considering it was a public space, your voice grew quieter with each word. No matter how well you've grown to know Morpheus, there was still some subliminal menace haunting the thoughts of anyone in his vicinity.

His ragged breath brushed against your face. Looking up into his clouded, dark eyes, you felt yourself growing smaller. At that moment he could ask you for anything and you wouldn't dare to decline. "I can give you everything you might wish for," he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "but I can not join you in the life you are used to."

Suddenly, the strange events of the past fifteen minutes became painfully obvious and you found it funny that you had been oblivious to this web of anxieties until now. "If I wanted to have a typical 9-5 with a picket fence, do you think I'd still be here?" you asked him. Morpheus slightly turned his head to the side. It was hard to say whether he was pondering your words or felt shame at ever accusing you of anything short of honesty. Whatever it was, you brought your hands up to his face and gently forced him to look back at you. "I'm not hanging around because I'm afraid to be lonely or something like that. I've made my choice, Morpheus. And that choice is life with you, whatever it may bring."

There was a certain sense of disbelief in his glistening eyes - it wasn't that he doubted your honesty, he truly did believe that you believed it, but a subconscious part of him, the festering wounds of all the infatuations he couldn't love as long as he wished, rendered him unable to take your statement without a grain of doubt. In other words, you were a person of integrity but he wasn't a man of faith. Not yet, perhaps.

You craned your neck to place a chaste peck on his cheek. Without thinking about it, Morpheus tilted his head towards you. His eyes fluttered shut but only for a split second as he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"You don't have to believe me," you began unsure of whether it was a good idea to address the fairly obvious shadow of fear that loomed over him. "But if you can, just trust me that I don't want anyone else."

"I trust you with all that I am."

"Good." You gave him a wide smile. Not expecting such a sudden change in your demeanour, Morpheus furrowed his thick eyebrows. "Because I'm taking you on a small adventure."

Before he could ask you anything, you grabbed his elbow and began walking somewhere. He let you pull him in whatever direction you wanted - he always did. Perhaps he wasn't quite aware of it yet but he never suspected you of ill will. When it came to you, he was surprisingly naive.

"Where are you leading me?" he questioned you but never forced you to stop. In a very ignoble way, Morpheus was devoted to following some human's whim.

You shrugged before answering in a humorously questioning manner: "Straight ahead? Just following my gut."

Morpheus surprised himself with his own contentment - getting lost in the Waking World was okay as long as it was him and you.

[fleetn-crab85]

Hello and welcome to a episode of...

Crab Over Analyzes "Naked Persimmon" from "33 and 1/3 Revolutions Per Monkee!"

Where, like the title says, I'm going to go through Mike's fantasy because there's a lot I want to unpack.

Now for context, at the 13-ish minute mark in 33 & 1/3, the mind control guy says (and I quote):

“Hm, interesting fantasies they have. Fixation, Withdrawal, Schizophrenia, Regression.”

Let's get this started because it's going to be long:

In the mind control guy's list he puts Mike at being “Schizophrenia". My first thought is, why? What about Mike’s fantasy screams “schizophrenia”? Is it because there’s two distinct versions of himself? Is it because he's singing two different styles of songs? Is it another reason?

The scene begins with a high energy, pretty standard Monkee sounding tune (and by Monkee sounding tune I mean it sounds like the Beatles). We see that the woman from before is shooting at a wanted poster with Mike’s face on it (Figure One). It seems he is wanted for 25,000 dollars for the crime of fraud. The poster is also split in two, one side that’s faded in black and white while the other is saturated with color. (Forgive me for the screenshot qualities I'm not working with much here)

Figure One, The Wanted Poster

We also see, perched on top of the image of himself, Mike clad in his nudie suit! (Figure Two) He also jumps when the woman shoots at him like she narrowly missed his head. While cowboy Mike is dealing with that, another Mike climbs up next to him. He’s dressed in more "modern" clothing, something right out of the first episode of the Monkees TV show (Figure Three).

Figures Two and Three, Cowboy and Monkee Mike

The Monkee Mike begins to kind of speak-sing,

Now it’s quite a while ago that I had a strange intuition Something was wrong with my gold record situation

Then, the Cowboy Mike cuts in,

Why do they say with so much adoration?

Then the other Mike angrily responds,

Well I can’t see that it makes it right!

Then out of nowhere Cowboy Mike starts strumming his guitar and changes the style of the song entirely. It’s slower with an audible old-sounding piano.

So for a while, I’ll just play my guitar And I’ll play a couple of tunes And I know that it may not get me too far But it’s the only thing I believe that’s true

During this part, Cowboy Mike encourages the audience, or rather the other Mike, to “sing along!”. Monkee Mike begrudgingly accepts and starts harmonizing with the Cowboy (Figure Four).

Figure Four, The Mikes Singing Together

Then Monkee Mike looks around, as if he knows someone is watching, and starts strumming his guitar to the same style as before,

Well the devil incarnate was runnin’ music supervision Put me in a state of catalytic euphemism

But Cowboy Mike butts again,

Someone’s preaching about the wonder world of communism

Then the other Mike continues, a little more defeated than last time,

But me I don’t understand it all-

And back to Cowboy Mike taking the song back over!

So for a while, I’ll just play my guitar And I’ll sing a couple of tunes And I know that it may not get me too far But it’s the only thing I believe that’s true

Monkee Mike, of course, doesn’t let this go much longer and takes the song back,

Well tell me Mr. TV Man, where do you make your moral stand? Which way, say, do you take your pay? Do you walk straight up? Or do you face the other way?

Then he holds out a long “woah” before screaming something into Cowboy Mike’s face. I’m not entirely sure what it is because the audio on the video isn’t that great (and I should also say the lyrics may also be wrong I'm working with very little here). Cowboy Mike then takes the song back to the slower tempo, but Monkee Mike doesn’t try to really fight it this time,

For a while, I’ll play my guitar And I’ll sing a couple of tunes And I know that it may not get me too far But it’s the only thing I believe that’s true

After they finish the last line, Monkee Mike gets shot (probably the woman) offscreen and falls over, presumably dead (Figure Five). Then Cowboy Mike hesitantly repeats the last line and is then promptly shot as well.

Figure Five, Monkee Mike is Shot

Now what does this have to do with schizophrenia? Well, I believe this is just the movie’s way of saying Mike is split into two-ish personalities.

(I also may be wrong about this, but I believe 33 & 1/3 is trying to say something about dissociative identity disorder, not schizophrenia, but I genuinely can’t tell)

The Cowboy Mike represents his desire to be his own person separate from the Monkees. In this persona, he’s his own musician. He's fully embraced his Texas roots and happily sings songs about playing the guitar. However, I still believe this Mike is some sort of facade since the nudie suit and song are so over-the-top country it’s comical. I would even say the Cowboy Mike's part of the song farcical. Mike is still forced to put on an act even when he’s trying to be true to himself due to that inherent desire to perform.

The Monkee Mike, on the other hand, is obviously tied down to his life as a Monkee, even when his true self tries to shine through. This Mike also isn’t afraid to ask questions and combat topics that the Cowboy Mike may want to but can't due to his "non-celebrity status" (I personally am interpreting Cowboy Mike to be an vision of Mike that never became famous but he still sings). Monkee Mike is an idealization of what Mike wants to do with his status as a Monkee but can't due to continually being "cut off" by producers, directors, or even his own fears.

The Monkee Mike also being shot first represents, to me, the death of the Monkees after their heyday. His celebrity status as a Monkee will be the first to go, then his other fabricated self. After that, there’s not much Mike left. He’s a fraud either way. The “only thing [he] believe[s is] true” is his music, not himself.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading this! I'd love to hear your thoughts and/or comments about it in the tags, replies, or whatever!

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 1

Summary: Coming home from college for the summer, you expected your days to be spent reading in your bedroom and sitting through tense family dinners- but an old acquaintance had something else in mind for you.

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Language, anti-religious sentiment throughout

Author’s Note: I tried to write something new but I’m in a megafunk so I decided to just rewrite and improve upon an old series, it’s full official title is Only the Good Die Young 2: Electric Boogaloo (Die Harder). Yes this series has an underlying Billy Joel theme please don't ask me why because I do not know, I was obviously working through something 3 years ago.

---

‘Y/n! You look… healthy.'

Those were your mother’s first words as you walked through the door of your family home. She didn't exclaim how pleased she was to see you or ask how your flight was, no, instead she used her typical passive-aggressive euphemisms to subtly comment on your appearance.

This was going to be a long summer.

Initially you'd been adamant about staying in your apartment for the holidays, even on your own, cause all you wanted was peace and space. Then your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn’t come home so, here you were. You sighed and traipsed upstairs. Approaching your bedroom, you saw the bolt haphazardly screwed to the outside of the door, the one your father had installed years ago after catching you watching ‘ungodly’ TV shows in the living room at midnight.

Ah, coming back here always felt like plunging yourself back into the deep, ice-cold pool of childhood trauma.

Pushing the door open, you saw that your room had been redecorated. It looked fucking dreadful. You glanced up at the wall and a little bit of sick shot up the back of your throat when you saw the WWJD cross stitch, one of your mother's originals no doubt.

...a long, long summer.

—

Your first errand was grocery shopping. Typical of your parents to insist on you coming home for 'family time', only to then hand you a three-page chore list, the majority of which required you to leave the house. You took your time wandering around the store, making the most of your temporary freedom. Even obnoxiously bright fluorescent lighting and the sickly smell of cleaning products was preferable to that crucifix-coated prison.

Eventually you made it to the checkout and started unloading the cheap wine and raisin snacks onto the conveyor belt. The cashier offered the usual pleasantries but you found yourself distracted, wondering where the billows of smoke blowing past the front window were coming from. You tilted your head, trying vaguely to catch a glimpse of the cause, but soon got distracted as you had to try and recall your mom's PIN number.

Stepping outside with arms full of grocery bags, your eyes followed the smoke downwind. Mystery solved. Huddled on the corner of the sidewalk was a pretty big group of guys in leather jackets, most of them with cigarettes balanced between their fingers. It was a pretty intimidating sight. Usually you'd just avoid such an obstacle, crossing the road or just heading in an altogether different direction, but they'd managed to plant themselves directly in your only feasible path home. You just kept your head down, gripped your grocery bags tight and gave them a wide berth.

Your heart almost stopped when you heard one of them pipe up.

'Well holy shit, y/n?’

You turned towards the voice. James Barnes. The two of you went to high school together but, apart from the occasional stilted conversation and reluctant group project, you’d never really developed any sort of relationship. Besides, he always hung out with people your mother didn’t approve of.

And he was what, now? In a motorcycle gang? Figures.

'Hi, James. Good to see you.’ You mumbled, breaking stride momentarily. His friends seemed to find that funny.

'You too but, uh, people call me Bucky now.'

Nodding slightly, you gave him a polite smile before moving off again. You noticed your face beginning to feel warm and your stomach involuntarily tensing. Sure, he was more handsome and less punchable than you remembered, but you had no idea why being in his presence was making you this nervous. Hurried footsteps sounded behind you and in a second he was by your side, his stride syncing up with yours.

'You moving back to town?’

'No, just visiting for the summer.’

'Staying with your parents?'

'Mhmm.'

‘They still religious nut-jobs?’

You stopped and snapped your head round, in complete shock at the brazenness of his questioning.

'I’ll take that as a yes.’ Without taking his eyes off you he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, placed one between his lips and lit it. ‘Guessing you won’t be having much fun this summer then.’

'Not your kind of fun.'

He scoffed slightly at that, his face changing into something resembling pity. ‘Man, you Catholic girls start much too late.’

‘I don’t think I asked for your opinion, James.’ Your words came out much softer than you anticipated, barely a mumble. Not the kind of back-off-or-else warning you were aiming for. He was really getting under your skin.

'You didn’t, but I’ll give you another.’  

You raised an eyebrow, watching him blow a cloud of smoke over your head, your stomach now contorted into a tight knot. Against your better judgement you waited for him to carry on.

‘I’d rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints,’ he stepped closer, bringing his lips to your ear and whispering, 'cause the sinners are much more fun.’

—

You dropped the shopping on the counter. The whole way home you hadn’t been able to get James Barnes out of your head, hadn’t been able to stop picturing his smirk or imagining his warm breath on your ear. For some reason you wanted to know more about him, wanted to find out what kind of reputation he'd made for himself while you'd been away, and if anyone had information it’d be your mother. She knew everything about everyone in this godforsaken town. Sitting down for dinner, you seized your opportunity.

'I saw James Barnes at the grocery store today.’

She abruptly dropped her knife and it hit her plate with a sharp clang, making you jump.

'You stay away from that boy,’ she punctuated the words with her fork, which was pointed directly between your eyes, 'he’s trouble. Him and his gang.’

You hated the way she spoke to you sometimes, like you were a child.

'He seemed nice enough.’

‘That’s how it starts,’ your father piped up, ‘then before you know it he’s got you hooked on drugs, living in a trailer, pregnant with his deviant child.’

'Amen.'

And that was the end of that conversation. Your father didn't say much but, whenever he did speak, your mother responded to his slow, dreary words like he was reading a new passage from the gospel. One thing you'd never wanted for yourself was a relationship like theirs, a loveless, bitter husk of a marriage with a biblical power imbalance and nothing left to say to each other. It was terrifying to think that you used to model yourself on them. They had you completely brainwashed before you left for college and, even now, some of their intrusive religious dogma still lingered in your subconscious.

You excused yourself upstairs as soon as dinner was cleared up, ready for your first day back in this hell-hole to be over.

—

Sunday. The priest had been droning on for god knows how long but you'd given up concentrating, his dull voice beginning to sound like a janky old extractor fan whirring behind the altar. You stood, sat, stood, kneeled and sat along with everyone else, singing and praying whenever prompted. This, every Sunday for ten weeks, was going to be torture.

It must've been a couple hours into the service when you felt yourself nodding off. Your shoulders relaxed and your head suddenly felt too heavy to be held up by your neck, you'd barely slept on your mother's concrete mattress the night before and this pew felt heavenly soft in comparison. Just as your eyes started to flutter closed, something startled you. It startled the whole congregation. The droning from the altar stopped and heads turned towards the door, where the disturbance seemed to be coming from. It sounded like a shuddering motorbike engine. Then another joined. In a couple of seconds the entire church was filled with an echoing cacophony of backfiring engines. Someone at the back stood up and ran to the door. There was some shouting and laughing before the noise eventually began to move away, fading into the distance. Looking around, you saw a sea of indignant and sour faces, a thick tension hovering in the air.

‘And that,’ your mother hissed through clenched teeth, ‘is why you don’t go near James Barnes and his friends.’

You had to suck in your cheeks to smother your laughter, nodding insincerely at her words. James’ voice echoed in your head…

The sinners are much more fun.

—

A few days had passed since the biker-blasphemy incident but you were still struggling to shake off James Barnes. You never thought you'd be one of those people who fawned after someone so obviously bad for them, you liked to think you were more sensible- but here you were.

You checked yourself in the mirror one last time before heading out. It'd been years since you had to conceal your actual outfit under the Amish garb your father insisted on you wearing but, by now, you were a natural at it. Once you'd broken free from your parents' Jesus programming you'd developed a great number of secretive techniques that allowed you to lead a semi-normal life without their knowledge, it was just depressing that you were having to employ them again this many years later.  

Your friend broke into hysterics when she opened the door and spotted the Yahtzee your mother had stuffed under your arm as you stepped out her front door.

'Is that your cover for the evening?'

'Yep,' you unceremoniously dropped the box in the hallway, 'I figured board game night at Ray's house sounded better than sloppy degenerate party at Ray's house.'

'I know which I'd prefer to be at.'

You smiled, embracing your old friend in a tight hug. 'I just gotta go de-Christian in the bathroom.'

'Is your dad seriously still telling you what to wear?' You nodded at her, rolling your eyes. 'Jesus Christ.'

'Don't get me started on that asshole.'

You stashed your bag of ugly rags alongside your mom's Yahtzee and began wandering from room to room, checking if there was anyone else there you recognised. Nope. Usually you'd just sip some liquid courage and start introducing yourself to anyone who looked friendly, but you knew if your parents smelled even a whiff of alcohol you’d be locked inside all summer, so you just skulked to the kitchen and opened a can of diet coke.

Just as you were beginning to question your decision to attend a house party stone-cold sober, there was a hard tap on your shoulder. You spun round to see James Barnes’ stupid wide grin.

‘Hey there, Church Mouse.’

‘James.’

Being nonchalant seemed the best approach here. You convinced yourself that you were just being intentionally aloof and sexy but, in reality, your parents' words had sunk deeper into your subconscious than you'd ever care to admit. Your wild attraction to this guy still wasn't enough to outweigh the suspicion they'd distilled in you.

'You enjoy your church service on Sunday?' James brought his beer bottle to his lips, smirking around it as he took a sip. 'Heard it was a rager.'

‘Would've been over a lot quicker without your interruption, you make a habit of pissing off strangers for fun?’

‘Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to welcome you home.’

Oh, that whole thing had been for your benefit? Interesting.

Your stomach started to flutter. A light tingle slowly made its way down your spine as you tried desperately to figure out whether he was genuinely trying to show some kind of vague interest or whether he was just mocking you, or even flirting with you for a bet. Your eyes searched his for any hints, your mind was racing faster and faster and you started to panic as you realised that you'd been standing there staring blankly at him for far too long.

‘You don't think it was a little obnoxious?'

‘Ah y’know,’ he leant against the counter, folding his arms, still grinning at you, 'we were just having fun, didn't hurt no one.’

You glanced away for a second in an attempt to smother any kind of smile, but he then bit his lip slightly and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest. There was a second of lingering silence between the two of you, broken only by your embarrassingly loud gulp as he pushed himself away from the counter, took a swift step towards you and jutted his hand past your waist. His face was hovering no more than a couple inches away from yours. There was a quiet clink as he picked up a fresh bottle of beer from the surface behind you, a faint whisper slipping through his lips before he moved away.

‘Call me Bucky.’

A few hours passed, you'd built up the courage to chat to a few people but all the other guests were now reaching the point of drunken incoherence. It wasn't long before you decided you were no longer having a good time. After trudging around for ten minutes trying to find Ray, who turned out to be blowing chunks in the upstairs bathroom, you decided that a sneaky exit through the back door was the best course of action. You could always just gaslight her into believing she was too drunk to remember your emotional, prolonged farewell.

The glass patio door slid open and closed subtly enough but, while you were so busy focusing on not getting spotted, your clumsy ass managed to unceremoniously trample over someone’s feet.

James.

Of course it was. Brilliant.

He was finishing off a cigarette, his amused face fixed on yours as you gracelessly righted yourself. Laughing to himself, he held out the pack to you, but you shook your head.

‘Leaving so soon?’

‘Yeah, not much fun being the only sober person in the room.'

'So have a drink.' He shrugged before clocking your gloomy expression. 'Ah, I get it. Where'd they think you are?'

'Board games night.'

A deep chuckle vibrated through the still night air as he crushed his cigarette butt under his boot. 'That probably would'a been more fun than this mess.'

He nodded slightly, gesturing over your shoulder; you looked back through the glass to see two girls lying on their backs, trying to drink from beer bottles they were holding between their feet.

'Fair point.'

‘So, you wanna go somewhere else?’

Your heart stuttered at his question. You struggled to form a reply, gazing at him wide-eyed. 'I don't- I mean-'

'S'alright, I know the deal,' his arms folded across his chest, 'your mom told you all I could give you was a reputation, right?’

'Something like that.'

'Well, I wouldn't mind proving her wrong, if you'd let me.'

You couldn’t hold back your smile any longer, his eyes lighting up when he spotted it. Shrugging faintly, you scurried around trying to find something witty and attractive to say, something other than I think I might fucking love you.

'How about another time? I should really get home.'

A smirk dawned in the corner of his mouth, you couldn't tell if he was onto you or if he was just always this laid-back. The dull thunk of boots against patio brought his face intimately close to yours once more.

‘Come out with me tomorrow.’

---

Part 2

---

[citrus-moonlight]

I'm 👀 at your WIP list! Can you share more about Wrapped Up in Clover? I love the imagery of the title!

Ahh, hi thank you so much! I'm excited for this one since Alfred is a blorbo I haven't written much for yet and it's been floating around my mind for a long while (since before I even posted the first chapter of "Bringin' Home the Rain").

@eupheme also asked about this one, and I shared an outline of it here, but I wanted to share a little snippet as a bit of a tease, and to encourage myself a bit, since I've only written (or published) for Klaue so far!

WIP ask game

Your mouth finds his again, your kiss growing deeper more quickly now, and you can’t help the rock of your hips that begins to match the slide of your tongue against his. Still sitting back you resist the urge to slide those last few inches forward, to press against what you're growing ever more desperate to feel.

You want to keep kissing him, but eventually you have to pull back to catch a lungful of air.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his voice is low and growing breathless, though the slide of his hands beneath the hem of your shirt is firm and grounding. 

“Yes. God, yes.” You assure him, though you can feel that you're swiftly reaching the end of your tether. The heat of him against the insides of your thighs is intoxicating even through layers of fabric that separate you, the flex of his neck muscles beneath your fingers as he leans in to press another deceptively chaste kiss against your lips has you both floating and aching in his grip. 

“But…Alfred?” 

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I think I’m getting to be done with taking it slow. I don’t mean- nothing has to happen tonight. I just...”

You're heart is pounding, it almost seems like he could see the flutter of your ribcage if he looked closely, but It's time to be forthright.

“I want you, Alfred.” You nearly moan, no longer able to hold back the desire in your voice as you finally say the words out loud. "Very, very badly.”

You keep your eyes on his, pleased when his darken at your admission. 

“And if this is as far as it goes for now, for as long as you want, I’m more than ok with that. But I have to tell you that I want you. Whenever you’ll have me.”

A weight seems to lift from your chest now that you said it, and you really are happy with whatever he wants, with whatever he'll give you, but right now something else is also growing very clear to you.

“But for tonight, if this is as far as it's going I’m going to need to stop, because I-”

“No.” 

Alfred's hands grip your hips tight, suddenly tugging you forward, and you gasp when your clothed core finally meets the achingly hard ridge of his cock.

His eyes are a glittering shade of blue you've never seen before, and it makes you shudder as much as the tease of his thick length that he rocks slowly up against you.

“Don’t stop.” 

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Christopher Mathias at HuffPost:

There’s a quote often attributed to Sinclair Lewis that has gone viral again and again since Donald Trump first ascended to the White House, fodder for liberal memes on Facebook and reposts on the platform X: “When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross.” There’s no evidence that Lewis, the early 20th-century novelist, ever said or wrote that sentence — its origin remains unknown — but it’s understandable why people think he did. Lewis, after all, wrote “It Can’t Happen Here,” the widely read 1930s dystopian novel depicting an Adolf Hitler-like figure rising to power in the U.S. — the type of fascist who eschewed the word “fascist” itself but “preached enslavement to Capitalism under the style of Constitutional and Traditional Native American Liberty,” and who “could quote not only Scripture but Jefferson” — and setting up concentration camps for members of certain marginalized groups, as well as for his political enemies.

The book’s sardonic title has served as the genesis for innumerable op-eds and magazine features in the decades since it was published, with headlines like “Could It Happen Here?” and “Did It Happen Here?” musing whether the horrors of 1930s and 1940s European fascism might be arriving on America’s shores. These musings, of course, sometimes elided the fact that many Americans, especially Black and Indigenous people, were already living under a type of fascism: white supremacy. Still, with the 2024 election victory of Donald Trump, there’s a very good argument that the particularly virulent strain of fascism imagined in Lewis’ novel, and the destruction of whatever semblance of democracy this country has enjoyed, are on the cusp of happening here and now. Like the apocryphal quote said, it is wrapped in a flag and carrying a cross.

Trump’s connection to Christianity has always been tenuous, with critics speculating whether his faith was authentic or crafted out of political expediency, especially after a 2015 interview in which he was asked to name his favorite Bible verses and repeatedly demurred. But since his initial ascent to the White House, and especially after a July assassination attempt this year, his religious rhetoric intensified.

“My faith took on new meaning on July 13 in Butler, Pennsylvania, where I was knocked to the ground, essentially, by what seemed like a supernatural hand,” Trump said last month, suggesting that divine intervention saved him from a would-be assassin’s bullet. “And I would like to think that God saved me for a purpose, and that’s to make our country greater than ever before.” While Trump’s rise to power in 2016 instigated an explosion in fascist groups — the Proud Boys, Identity Evropa and so many more — many of those organizations have since collapsed, falling to infighting and scandal, their members arrested or doxxed. These groups, in many ways, served as shock troops for the “Make America Great Again” agenda, sacrificing themselves to open the Overton window — that is, the spectrum of acceptable political discourse — so wide that Trump frequently parrots their words and ideas these days, openly talking about “remigration,” for example, a well-known euphemism for ethnic cleansing.

Yet the most enduring fascist formation, the one that has survived and thrived out in the open over the past eight years, counts millions of members among its ranks. As HuffPost has reported extensively, they gather at a loose confederation of churches on Sunday mornings, speak in tongues, perform faith healings and are led by self-described prophets and apostles who claim to have a direct line to God. Their revealed word always bears a striking resemblance to the latest MAGA or Republican Party talking points you might hear on Fox News, and contains prophecies that Trump is destined to rule over the U.S., returning to the White House to implement a reign of terror and vengeance over those who ever dared oppose him.

Trump has repeatedly threatened revenge, lashing out at the “enemy from within,” calling the press “the enemy of the people” and promising “retribution” and to be a “dictator” on day one of his next administration. His work will begin in earnest this January. And he’ll have the support of churches in the New Apostolic Reformation, or NAR — a burgeoning movement of charismatic evangelical churches that are characterized by a belief in the supernatural, in modern-day miracles and in modern-day apostles and prophets, as well as an embrace of Christian dominionism, the idea that America was founded as a Christian nation and should be governed with an ultraconservative interpretation of scripture. This latter belief is articulated in something called the Seven Mountain Mandate, which states that Christians must conquer the “seven mountains” of societal influence — the financial system, the church, education, arts and entertainment, family, media and government — to form a perfect world. Once that is accomplished, the prophecy goes, Christ will return to Earth.

It is a movement that is fundamentally hostile to the type of democracy required for equal governance in a diverse and pluralistic society like the U.S., which is why it’s no surprise that NAR prophets and apostles played such a fundamental role in fomenting the antidemocratic Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S. Capitol, and why they’ve found a home in the highest reaches of a Republican Party increasingly beholden to a politics of outright domination.

The GOP’s official party platform is rife with NAR-inflected language, including a call to “keep foreign Christian-hating Communists, Marxists, and Socialists out of America.” Such language can also be found in Project 2025, the sprawling fascist blueprint for a new conservative administration that was spearheaded by The Heritage Foundation think tank and depicts Christians in America as under siege by “woke” enemies. Trump and JD Vance, now the vice president-elect, have repeatedly courted the New Apostolic Reformation, including in September when Vance spoke at an event hosted by an apostle who believes that Trump was destined to save America from Kamala Harris, with the Democratic presidential nominee purportedly sent by the devil to “take Trump out.”

[...] Fascist movements often imbue their leaders with mythological, divine qualities, and the NAR is no exception. Trump was destined to rule for “such a time as this,” according to the movement’s prophets and apostles, who have at various points over the last eight years “made a hobby of connecting the famously profane, philandering, greedy real estate mogul to biblical heroes and quotable Bible verses,” wrote Matthew Taylor, a senior scholar at the Institute for Islamic, Christian, and Jewish Studies and the author of “The Violent Take It by Force.”

With Tuesday’s destructively decisive win by Donald Trump, Christian Nationalists feel further emboldened.

See Also:

RWW: With Trump's Win, Lance Wallnau Says Christian Nationalists Must Tear Down 'The Gates of Hell' In Government

The Guardian: US Christian right celebrates after prophecy of Trump win comes to pass

[saiyukiitaliaandinternational]

Monthly Minekura Christmas edition

Day 11 “Elf”

I know this might seem strange but the background is actually linked to the theme of 'elf' because that's Alden Valley, based on this photo that inspired me with the subject. Alden derives from Old English ælf ('elf') + denu ('valley'), thus meaning 'elf-valley'. I didn't want to use the Christmas version nor the Tolkien-based elves, and I couldn't find an equivalent in Chinese mythology. I prefer to stick with old traditions but it is complex and sometimes even confusing, so I preferred to use a place in England that was once associated with elves. Elves appear in some place names, though it is difficult to be sure how many of other words, including personal names, can appear similar to elf. The clearest English examples are Elveden ("elves' hill", Suffolk) and Elvendon ("elves' valley", Oxfordshire); other examples may be Eldon Hill ("Elves' hill", Derbyshire); and Alden Valley ("elves' valley", Lancashire). These seem to associate elves fairly consistently with woods and valleys. In Old English, elves are most often mentioned in medical texts which attest to the belief that elves might afflict humans and livestock with illnesses: apparently mostly sharp, internal pains and mental disorders. The most famous of the medical texts is the metrical charm Wið færstice ("against a stabbing pain"), from the tenth-century compilation Lacnunga, but most of the attestations are in the tenth-century Bald's Leechbook and Leechbook III. This tradition continues into later English-language traditions too.

Because of elves' association with illness, in the twentieth century, most scholars imagined that elves in the Anglo-Saxon tradition were small, invisible, demonic beings, causing illnesses with arrows. This was encouraged by the idea that "elf-shot" is depicted in the Eadwine Psalter, in an image which became well known in this connection. However, this is now thought to be a misunderstanding: the image proves to be a conventional illustration of God's arrows and Christian demons. Rather, twenty-first century scholarship suggests that Anglo-Saxon elves, like elves in Scandinavia or the Irish Aos Sí, were regarded as people. Keep in mind that like words for gods and men, the word elf is used in personal names where words for monsters and demons are not, so elves are people. In Old English, the plural ylfe (attested in Beowulf) is grammatically an ethnonym (a word for an ethnic group), suggesting that elves were seen as people.

Elves are known in Norse tradition, notably in Snorri Sturluson's Prose Edda, which talks about svartálfar, dökkálfar and ljósálfar, but these terms are attested only in the Prose Edda and texts based on and it is now agreed that they reflect traditions of dwarves, demons, and angels, partly showing Snorri's "paganisation" of a Christian cosmology learned from the Elucidarius, a popular digest of Christian thought (this is why I take with a grain of salt Prose Edda when I want to learn about Norse religion). I prefer to focus in Old Norse poetry, particularly the Elder Edda. Elves are frequently mentioned in the alliterating phrase Æsir ok Álfar ('Æsir and elves') and its variants. This was a well-established poetic formula, indicating a strong tradition of associating elves with the group of gods known as the Æsir, or even suggesting that the elves and Æsir were one and the same. There are other sources that talk about elves such as Sagas of Icelanders, Bishops' sagas, and contemporary sagas. In Kormáks saga there is the mention of álfablót ("elves' sacrifice"), and in Eyrbyggja saga we can find the existence of the euphemism ganga álfrek ('go to drive away the elves') for "going to the toilet".

Fun fact: by the end of the medieval period, elf was increasingly being supplanted by the French loan-word fairy. An example is Geoffrey Chaucer's satirical tale Sir Thopas, where the title character sets out in a quest for the "elf-queen", who dwells in the "countree of the Faerie".

I imagined Gojyo (I find him the best for these kind of works) being alone in this place, pondering about his life and letting thoughts roam freely before maybe elves try to steal them. Here you can see two versions, a black and white version which resemble a manga page and another one where Gojyo chromatically stands out. I was unsure which posting, so asked a dear friend of mine and she liked both and eventually I decided to post both. Gojyo's pose was partially inspired by the famous painting of Caspar David Friedrich, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. Ok again sorry for long post.

Credits:

Saiyuki Reload Blast © Kazuya Minekura, Platinum Vision, 2017-present

[dreamsinmytotebag]

Poetic references in pop culture

After having discussed poetry and songs and lyric poetry, we can see how certain poetic elements have seemed to find their way in pop culture. The target audiences for poetry and pop culture might have been considered to be different in earlier times but now they tend to overlap. What earlier used to be limited to the field of literature is now, often used as an aesthetic in films, music, etc. I also feel that, while it expands poetry as a domain and exposes new people to it, it also, in some ways, loses its value when it is brought down to stand as a mere aesthetic that people use as captions for their social media posts. Nonetheless, we get to see poetry making its cameo in pop culture many a times.

Starting with something very closely linked to poetry- songs and lyrics. Many artists and songwriters tend to have a poetic style of writing. Now, of course, not all lyrics and songs can amount to being termed as poetry, but some can. Hozier would be my first prime example for this. His deep and poetic lyrics tend to reflect a strong sense of writing, which at the same time also get entangled with the aesthetic of pop culture. The deep complexities and metaphors, and euphemisms in his lyrics may not be understood by all which can make the listeners interpret their meaning in some other way. Songs like “Cherry Wine” and “Eat Your Young” talk about social issues but due to their interpretation in pop culture, their meanings have come down to revolve around the subject of love and relationships. While, at the same time, there is no denying that Hozier also makes love songs. However, a song like “Eat Your Young”, which serves as, what some might say, a “protest song”, based on political greed and the exploitation of younger generations, should not be reduced to merely having a sexual connotation to it. The song also references the classic Anglo-Irish writer, Jonathan Swift and his essay, “A Modest Proposal”, a famous protest against the British treatment of Ireland. This shows how poetry can get lost while serving to the whims and the fancies of pop culture. I also happened to stumble across this one blog on Tumblr, which adds more to this Hozier argument. I’ll attach a link for a clearer understanding.

Taking up a few more examples from music, particularly pop music, only recently we saw Taylor Swift release her 11th studio album, titled "The Tortured Poets Department”. Now the name in itself carries the essence of poetry. As a fan, of course my opinion would differ from the critiques or someone who’s not a fan, nonetheless, I enjoyed the album while also being aware of its different aspects that I did not enjoy as much. Particularly talking about “The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology” I clearly saw more of the poetic edge to the album here, rather than on the standard version. Swift is inarguably one of the best songwriters of all time and there have been instances where she has written actual poems, or has poems turned into songs. Her other albums, particularly, “folklore” and “evermore” also carry the poetic side of Swift. Lyrics like,

“Now you hang from my lips, like the gardens of Babylon.

With your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con”

-Ivy, evermore

Or

“Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don’t belong, but my beloved neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like the perfect place to cry

I’m signing off but not without my muse, no, not without you”

-The Lakes, folklore

…carry a heavy whiff of poetry and a poetic style of writing. When songs with such lyrics are consumed by a wide audience, the audience naturally looks into its deeper meanings. In reference to Taylor Swift and her widely spread fanbase, Swifties, who are known to speculate her work with full intensity and dedication, will of course be opened to a whole new world of poets and poetry through their consumption of pop culture. Taylor Swift also has quite a few self-written poems, namely, “Why She Disappeared”, and “If you’re anything like me”.

Speaking of pop artists and their poetry, we can not move on without mentioning Lana Del Rey. Apart from her complex lyricism, Lana, also has a poetry book called "Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass”. Lana Del Rey is not only celebrated as an artist, but has developed a whole aesthetic around her, which her poetic footprints follow. She has a huge impact on pop culture and is known to bring in a whole Sylvia Plath vibe to her work. People usually draw comparisons between the two. One of my favorite poems by Lana Del Rey, would have to be “Sportcruiser”:

“All of this circumnavigating the earth

Was to get back to my life

Six trips to the moon for my poetry to arise

I'm not a captain

I'm not a pilot

I write

I write”

Apart from music, poetry has been reflected in films as well. For an example, I would like to mention my favourite movie of all time, “Dead Poet’s Society”. From a dark academia aesthetic to Walt Whitman references, and the famous “Oh Captain! My Captain!” line, draws in interest from poetry and literature enthusiasts. I personally, started exploring Walt Whitman after I watched the movie. Shows such as “Dickinson” which revolves around the life of the famous poet, Emily Dickinson, also bring poetry to pop culture. Such shows also help bring out the sides of poets and their work which could not be revealed back in their times due to the society’s conservative nature.

Apart from movies centred around poetic or literature themes, many shows or films reference poems or poets in dialogues, arising the viewer’s curiosity. The movie “Maurice” has a dialogue, “I am an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.” which references the famous poet/author, Oscar Wilde, particularly dealing with the theme of homosexuality. Adaptations of classics, such as “Pride and Prejudice”, or “Little Women” also finds literature being introduced to pop culture. However, at the same time, such adaptations can also sometimes misrepresent these classics, which is usually called out by the literature enthusiasts, showing an interaction between two crowds and an integration of literature into pop culture. One of the recent examples, we can find is when Netflix announced the adaptation of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. (my favorite book of all time) Like many other, I, too, was disappointed to find out about the queer erasure done by Netflix by establishing a familial relationship between two characters: Dorian and Basil, who clearly have a romantic one in the original story, in the book.

Moreover, ever since social media came into the picture, poetry has been widely spread across pop culture. With poets like, Rupi Kaur, making their debut on talk shows like, “The Tonight Show With, Jimmy Fallon” and going on tours and various poetry related social media accounts taking over, the extent of integration of poetry with pop culture has been quite large and has changed the way people consume and create poetry, with specific emphasis on spoken poetry. What’s most interesting to note here is that the impact of this integration has not been one sided. Pop culture too has been shaped immensely through the introduction of poetry and other literature related themes, especially in the way it references, creates, and presents its content.

[mariana-oconnor]

Black Peter pt 1

Haven't heard of this one either. Let's hope that's down to the fact it's a later story and not because it isn't popular anymore because of *looks at title* reasons.

I have never known my friend to be in better form, both mental and physical, than in the year '95.

Watson does keep waxing poetic about the year 1895. Must have been an epic year.

Holmes, however, like all great artists, lived for his art's sake, and, save in the case of the Duke of Holdernesse, I have seldom known him claim any large reward for his inestimable services.

Do we know the Duke of Holdernesse? I don't remember his name. How rude was he to Holmes that Holmes took his money? I feel like that must be arsehole tax.

So unworldly was he—or so capricious—that he frequently refused his help to the powerful and wealthy where the problem made no appeal to his sympathies...

More evidence for the Sherlock Holmes hates the rich theory. It's not that he's unworldly or capricious, Watson, it's that usually they're the bad guys (please see King of Bohemia). Not to put modern biases on a historical fictional character or anything.

down to his arrest of Wilson, the notorious canary-trainer

What did he train the canaries to do?

Was it, like, an entire hoard of pickpocketing birds?

Did they murder people for him? What?

Google tells me it might have been a euphemism for brothel-keeper. Or a singing teacher. So... honestly that story could go any number of ways. I think I'll stick to actual canaries, though. Probably in Canary Wharf.

During the first week of July my friend had been absent so often and so long from our lodgings that I knew he had something on hand. The fact that several rough-looking men called during that time and inquired for Captain Basil...

Watson pining at home while Holmes is out with rough-looking men and having them call him Captain...

...made me understand that Holmes was working somewhere under one of the numerous disguises and names with which he concealed his own formidable identity.

Honestly, I feel like this is character development. Before Watson would have just been 'Holmes is away' and 'Who is Captain Basil?', two entirely separate lines of thought. Now he has connected the dots. Proud of you, buddy!

...he strode into the room, his hat upon his head and a huge barbed-headed spear tucked like an umbrella under his arm.

“If you could have looked into Allardyce's back shop you would have seen a dead pig swung from a hook in the ceiling, and a gentleman in his shirt-sleeves furiously stabbing at it with this weapon. I was that energetic person, and I have satisfied myself that by no exertion of my strength can I transfix the pig with a single blow."

Everyone needs a hobby.

I recognised him at once as Stanley Hopkins, a young police inspector for whose future Holmes had high hopes...

Oh hai, Hopkins!

"However, my friend Dr. Watson knows nothing of this matter, and I should be none the worse for hearing the sequence of events once more."

For the sake of Watson and us, the invisible audience, please to be info-dumping exposition policeman!

"In 1883 he commanded the steam sealer Sea Unicorn, of Dundee."

"He has been known to drive his wife and his daughter out of doors in the middle of the night, and flog them through the park until the whole village outside the gates was aroused by their screams."

Can't say I'm entirely sorry Captain Carey is dead. In fact, maybe just chalk this up as self-inflicted and leave it at that. Whoever did it probably had a good reason.

However, the nickname doesn't seem to really be racist, so that's better than it could have been. Swarthy, as far as I'm aware, refers to tanned/weather beaten skin usually, which makes sense for a longtime sailor.

"He had built himself a wooden outhouse—he always called it ‘the cabin’—a few hundred yards from his house, and it was here that he slept every night. It was a little, single-roomed hut, sixteen feet by ten."

The original man cave?

The description of him is not crying out the sort of man who would keep tobacco on hand just in case his friends wanted some. It's not crying out the sort of man who has friends, for a start.

“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. I appreciated that point, and I conjectured that it was dropped by the murderer in his hurried flight. It lay near the door.”

Hopkins really is the smartest of the police officers we've met. And I still haven't noticed Watson comparing him to an animal.

So we have a terrible man killed by a harpoon in his man cave and no one noticed for ages because no one wanted to talk to him. I'm kind of hoping that all the women were in on it and they just... harpooned him together.

[greypetrel]

HI ARJA please tell me about lights will guide you home 👀

Hi zen! :D

Thanks for asking and of course!

Some WIPs here...

It's the first chapter of the long-ago announced DadWolf fic. We are getting the bros home!

I have an outline and a plot, and tho I want to conclude Dark Lady before starting to post it, I'm getting on with it. I'm embracing the fact that titling things is stressful, so each chapter will have a song quote to catch the vibes.

I'm almost done, I just need to finish writing how the blorbos actually became friends (short-circuiting the wiring in the house for the lolz, for now, but I could change my mind).

A snippet under the cut!

Solas hated the Chantry. One thing was moving politically for a restoration of the Circles, having mages guarded day and night lest they got possessed by demons. As if it was something that happened easily and on accident. One thing was moving politically to have them restored… The other was forcing the hands of politics using a Dalish child that survived the murder of her whole clan. In mysterious circumstances that everyone knew was just a euphemism to say they got in the middle of a fight and acted as the scapegoat in Wycome. Finally alone, anyway, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, he slowly walked towards the child, still curled on herself in her corner, whimpering between herself and trembling like a leaf. He had no idea about how to talk to children, let alone Dalish ones. When he tried to approach a clan, right after he woke, it went very poorly. But she was, hopefully, too little to have the prejudices he met ingrained in her mind. And after all, his plan was freeing his people. He could try and start from her. Sitting down to get to her level seemed a good idea. “Hello.” He said, in Elvhen, slowing down his speech. The language changed in the ages he spent asleep, but maybe… The child didn’t reply. The child, actually, acted like he didn’t exist, going on crying on herself, not even moving to look at him. “That lightning you evoked was very impressive.” He went on. “Can you show me again?” No reply either. The child, tho, hugged herself tighter, letting out a whimper. “You see… I’m a mage as well.” He extended a hand and… What did children like these days? What did children like in his days? He tried with sparkles, in yellow and blue and purple, dance in the air, crackling slightly to signal something was happening even if the child wasn’t looking. Malcolm always evoked sparkles to entertain the twins, after all, and the twins had been delighted. Maybe it would have worked with this child as well. Ah. She slowly turned her head, a big eye peeking out of her knee, shiny with tears and greener in contrast to how red it was. She looked at his face with fear and suspicion, and it put Solas instantly ill at ease. At least, tho, she was looking at him, which was a step forward. “You did well in trying to defend yourself.” He explained, talking as slower and as clearly as he could. “But you see, that horrible Mother isn’t happy about it. You should be less conspicuous about it. Which comes a little difficult when you wield lightning, but we can work on it. I could return here and teach you, what do you think?”

[sburbian-sage]

A

Ah, no., i

it's just my quirk., t

though you were it seems I can say you were close nonetheless., a

although I cannot explicitly confirm if it was a boss that did it, or if there is in fact a censoring effect on me, but if there were, how might one fight such a being?, w

when one cannot ask others about such a being's weaknesses., d

due to the aforementioned hypothetical censoring effect?, e

especially if such a boss or other being were perhaps too strong to defeat by ordinary means?, o

or isn't a boss at all, and instead is something it would be very very bad to kill?, n

not that I'm saying that it is or isn't., b

because it seems I can't.

I can't believe my ability to sleuth problems and decrypt ciphers is so strong that I arrived at a mostly-correct answer, even using the wrong process.

Anyway, you're telling me that you're being forced to self-censor and be evasive because an entity is forcing you to, and the entity in question is 1) not a boss, 2) too strong to defeat head-on, 3) probably shouldn't be killed. I can only think of a couple of entities which fall under this banner.

A Player. Perhaps one of the Law, Heart, or Rage variety, who has given a sentence/programming/command to not do the thing you shouldn't be doing. They could also be monitoring/brainwashing you with psionic powers, or else just have a bomb collar strapped to you.

Your Sprite. They're usually hardcoded to be friendly to you and guide you and stuff, but it's not impossible that you somehow prototyped a Sprite which is taking a hostile stance against you.

An Other. Technically not a boss, immensely strong, and it's not that killing them is bad, only that fighting them is innately dangerous.

The Debug NPC.

If it's the Player, then it might be worth it to send messages to your coplayers implying and insinuating that some weird abusive stuff is going on. If you think there's monitoring going on, or otherwise feel like online comms can't work, maybe try to meet up in person. As for "fighting", direct fights are indeed risky (putting aside Titles and such), and PKs are probably not desirable, unless you feel this is a prelude to a PK. In any case doing something like (hypothetically) waiting until they're asleep and active on the Dream Moon, finding their physical body, throwing a weighted net on top of them, splashing ice cold water on them, and then hitting them with a bat or other hard-but-not-deadly object while screaming at them to stop putting a censor lock on you, I dunno it could work. It'd be best to get back-up first though, or otherwise let your more communicative players help.

If it's the Sprite, I have no idea what you prototyped it with that it's hostile and has mind-control powers. If it has to come to it, I wouldn't be too worried about destroying the thing. The Sprites don't really contribute much anyway to people who already know how to play the game, outside of sentimental value (which a rogue sprite is definitionally not doing). Just toss in something contrary to its nature, and it might self-delete (only a euphemism in that it doesn't just zip out of existence, it explodes). Or maybe just throw something in that makes it less hostile? If that's not an option though, because it's double-prototyped, then just progress through the game. Every Sprite will eventually give you your Sprite Pendant, and soon after fuck off permanently. This is a mostly inevitable event, and once it leaves, any negative effects might also auto-dispel.

If it's an Other, I can only assume this was your fault because you made a deal with it. Hopefully you can try to find a loophole in whatever contract you made to get your ability to talk back, or else you'll have to make a second deal. And don't think this will wear off once the Session ends, any deal you make with an Other is persistent. Similarly persistent is your ability to communicate with that specific Other in the future.

If it's the Debug NPC, I can't help you. The fact that the Debug NPC is doing anything of consequence means things are going horribly off-rails, such that I literally wouldn't be able to provide you any relevant information or advice. So you'll just have to rely on your own problem-solving skills. Good luck!

[maggiecheungs]

spring-spun thoughts by li bai

(my translation; original and notes under the cut)

for you, the jade silk grasses of yan province

for me, the mulberries of qin with their drooping green bows

dear sir, in all your dreams of homecoming

do you spare any thought for your heartsick love?

i’m troubled by the spring breeze (no acquaintance of mine!)

that slips, unbidden, within my silk-gauze screens

春思（李白）

燕草如碧絲 秦桑低綠枝 當君懷歸日 是妾斷腸時 春風不相識 何事入羅幃

notes on the translation:

this translation is a little looser/more daring than other poems i've tried my hand at before... i'm not usually brave enough to strongly push my own interpretation in my translation, but i did this time because 1) it's a li bai poem so there are already countless other more traditional english translations available and 2) if you can't make fun, slightly risqué interpretations/translations of li bai, then who else is there?

the context: it is spring! a gentleman has gone to yan province (in the army) while his lover is left alone in qin. sad!

the title: 春思 is usually just translated as 'spring thoughts', but i wanted to somehow capture the parallel between the homonyms 思 (sī, 'thoughts', 'yearning') and 絲 (sī, 'silk') that's in the original. i don't know how well it carries over, but i tried to make that connection between 'spring-spun thoughts (of an absent lover)' and the jade silk grasses of yan. i also wanted to preserve the sense of causality (which is an important part of the chinese poetic tradition but not necessarily evident to the english language reader): the specific brand of yearning that she’s feeling right now is specifically caused by her sorrow that he’s not there to enjoy the spring with her

the poem: translators seem to favour reading this as a fairly typical poem of yearning, but when i read it i felt there was a slightly... arch edge to the speaker's voice? it's very possible to read it as a straight lament at their distance, but i feel like you can also imbue it with a slightly sarcastic or accusatory tone, so i wanted to let both interpretations remain open in my version. hence my translation of the second couplet in second person, to give it a slightly more confrontational edge than a simple neutral statement of fact.

the final couplet was tricky, because it seems like such a non-sequitur. i made two possible interpretations: 1) that the spring wind in her bedchamber is just another reminder of her lover's absence from her side; or alternatively, and slightly more daringly, 2) that she's obliquely warning her lover that he's left her open and unprotected, and that she's been receiving unwelcome attentions from other men while he's gone (depending on whether you read the poem as sincere or snarky, this could be a genuine warning... or a mischievous, innuendo-laden hint that he should get his arse in gear and come back home to stop her running off with someone else. i think this last interpretation is a bit out-there, but i'm quite fond of it—and also, i'm pretty sure i read somewhere that 春風 (spring wind) is a euphemism for sex, which would lend credence to my theory...). it also strikes me that my slightly irreverent reading lends itself to a third possible interpretation of the final couplet: she’s coyly warning him that if he’s gone too long, she won’t recognise him when he returns to her bed lmao. but idk! i might be reading too much into it. or maybe not! the possibilities are endless

[wellntruly]

M*A*S*H - Season 9, misc. notes

Honestly I should probably retire feeling as I do that I have finally reached the Ultimate M*A*S*H note,

“Must you have every conversation nude and wet?”

— — —

For reasons I COULD NOT TELL YOU, the first episode of Season 9, but just the first one, has its own solo horn theme song orchestration, and when I tell you I was not prepared!!!

Here have an indicative video of my reaction from when I immediately alerted Jody to this

I promise I’d only had (2) gin, Suze, & lemon things

“What about BJ? He’s gotta be a bridge player, he lives in the suburbs!” Must feel so great to just get bodied by Father Mulcahy.

Oh, Margaret & BJ in this casually collaborative daydrunk register is VERY fun. This is what you guys get trying to corral a pair of flirty blondes.

We just got a product placement for this. Allowed.

Honestly, who was like, it’s gonna be raining, hard, whole episode. Amazing. And They Were All So Damp.

……Klinger has a pair of gay chinchillas. This is not extrapolation this is real.

Any time they turn Hawkeye into Dr. W.H.R. Rivers, that’s the business.

I will someday have to go down the entire imagination rabbit hole of them actually moving camp. Hawkeye just indicated they moved 5 months ago. That’s wild.

Can’t believe I’m only just now asking, but what on earth are they winding on this phone? Update: it's powering the battery!

New Season Nine Theme Song II is actually maybe the most similar to Theme Original Era and it’s giving me some emOTIONS THAT ARE NOW BURSTING FORTH AT THIS CONTINUING JAZZY BACKGROUND MUSIC INTO THE OPENING SCENE LIKE WE USED TO OMG

Idly tracking what light makes Alan Alda’s hair look the most grey and which the most dark is a foolish errand, but one to which I apply myself. Natural lighting is a factor.

“Any father of Margaret’s is a father of mine.” Hawk you already have two dads, easy.

“Educational materials” is such a good euphemism

Sometimes I have to stop and think about how Sherman Potter is a doctor, and then my heart kinda melts over him. He’s regular army who went medical <3

BJ is now wearing the pink shirt WITH the vermillion suspenders AND the patched hat. Best with/and credit I’ve seen in a while.

Oh Mike’s doing a winter episode, hey!

Helmet cloche over the snacks…this speaks to me

Interesting, I find this time of death plot more morally dubious than you all seem to!

Having it suddenly be December 31, 1950, THE earliest we’ve ever been stated to be, is so deranged. :) Hold on let me pull up my Wikipedia history notes titled “KOREAN WAR FUCKING TIMELINE”... okay, yes: the front was so chaotic at that time

NAVY BLUE PARKAS????!

Okay good the coats are a plot point

HILARIOUS to now immediately skip forward a month and a half

Never mind, INCREDIBLE to be like, time is meaningless here 😎 all of 1951 in one episode

Not tan Margaret’s 1980 feathered hair too….

Everyone uses BJ to wind yarn. This we love.

The meta irony of them pretending to be cold while it’s canonically hot……..yes.

“You blow one more kiss, Pierce, and those lips will never walk again.” Been TOO long since a line like this and a gay little draw-back from Hawkeye, particularly at a senior officer.

I kind of like everyone calling him Max, now. Feels cozy.

BJ waking up and mildly going heyy, what’s going on, do I need to go with you to wherever these large Marines are taking you---strong shades of BJ Part One

Twice now in the last two seasons I’ve seen Hawkeye pull on a pair of pants and belt them over his T-shirt, and then the next time we see him full-length his shirt is its usual untucked. They simply refuse to change the established character design silhouette any more, and I’m like, just once?? Haha okay, just realized part of why I get amped about the dressy uniforms.

Appreciate that Potter has NO patience for Wagner, on, hilariously, purely political grounds. I mean valid.

Klinger finally meeting his Canadian friend from the radio :: me finally meeting a mutual from the internet

Charles: “Noo, you chimney sweep.” INCRedible

I will take Harry Morgan’s pronunciation of “Au revoir” tenderly to my grave. “Ohhh reh-vore”

BJ is so annoyed. He does not like Hawkeye soliciting sexual favors with wine. Which is funny as his opening remark was to offer sexual favors for the wine. In many ways, this episode is shaping up to have such a "Season 1" effect, for good or ill.

AND Klinger in a dress again! “your coquette look” coquette…Potter….

Oh okay it was the Season 1 Commentary episode lol

Just so simple and effective and timeless to predicate a whole episode on “one of our characters is injured”

BJ curling away from everyone like a dog with a hurt paw, oh boy

Strudel, I do not think you are “BJ’s doctor” in any way except that you would like to be

EXTREMELY in love with ~*A Potter Production*~

Specialist: “Way to find out fast is to lift that middle finger, see how bad it hurts.” BJ, at Hawkeye’s hesitation: “Go on, you’re just following doctor’s orders.” OH GODDD

We gotta…..we gotta not be filming up Alda's bare thighs again. Now it’s a pattern.

BJ lying on his back, eyes open in the dark, not even pretending he’s falling asleep just thinking his thoughts in the new Night Thoughts time he’s been granted by circumstance: me my two summers without AC in New York City. He's got it right.

Margaret, respectfully: cute buns

Gonna need to do a real “Computer, enhance” on this postcard pinned by Hawkeye’s bed that does not appear to be to him.

Okay definitely is this addressed to a Mr. John Murdock, in Seattle, Wash. It appears to be from Victoria. Set dressing department, no one wanted to write an absurd fake postcard to Hawkeye? Are you kidding? That’s the best assignment!

Oh my god, Margaret’s cute buns are a plot point!

Klinger’s striped pantaloons...

BJ, you’re 6’4”. Or nearly.

A type of humor that will always get me is when the person stuck listening to someone fret over a situation they are entirely imagining just pivots along with whatever it is this minute. "No wonder Peg is leaving you!" just killed me.

This is not the kind of joke that normally makes me laugh, but I’m losing it. I think it’s that everyone is so baffled, just silently listening to this surreal butt rash talk echoing in the middle of the night, peering quizzically up at the speakers like…….wat

Madly in love with this episode description that feels exactly like those fake Star Trek: TNG synopses that writer was posting. I think it’s the incongruous A plot/B plot paired with a qualitative value judgement, something that’s usually more the purview of an audience.

What you must love about Klinger is that he always gets the right outfit for the job

Ding ding ding, our second “SNAFU”

It happens so rarely that I've never gained any protection against it, I am simply NEVER ready for Hawkeye to mention Trapper. GOD. I freeze! Heart and limbs! And then to just go on, depressedly: “Trapper John goes. No problem, there's plenty more where he came from. BJ Hunnicutt---same size, same shape.” Ha ha YIKES? YIKES to all of you and me!!!!!! Wooow!!!!!

And they took Frank Burns, and sent you Winchester. You snap Henry Blake’s in half. Hawkeye….! Alan. (dir.)

EXCUSE ME HIS NAME IS IGOR STRAMINSKY? LOOOOOLLLL

Just love Hawkeye in this mode, intent and askew with a strange fey air. Trapper would be spending this whole episode keeping tabs on him [DON'T touch me]; BJ is basically nowhere to be found. Perhaps understandable given earlier Hawkeye said that he was just one warm body replacing another. LORDT, lately this show is really getting like, have you considered Hawkeye/BJ, bleak? And I’m like …..huh! Oh???

Innncredibly discomfiting for you to be calling him Ben, reporter

Wow Potter I’m obsessed with this painting where you’ve rendered Hawkeye as a wry and definitely dead little ghast! Sherman hello???

Charlie is like, genuinely plotting how to maim or murder this man.

Must you have every conversation nude and wet?

BJ....[short sigh], there's no need to be so combative about missing your family. Again.

Hawkeye, tired: “Well look at the bright side: at least you have me.” BJ, also tired: “You’re gonna have to shave.” Honestly the more they make Hawkeye/BJ into something rather grim and downtrodden and transactional the more I can believe it's happening, haha uh oh! Oh no!

This scene is perfect. This is a perfect scene. Ogden Stiers delivering his recorded will in exactly the right tone, Alda and Farrell listening out of focus in the door window with exactly legible enough reactions...

Whoooo is your tall card friend, Margaret! Who calls you “kid” 👀

Oh another odd tone this episode that I am so interested in, what’s going on!!

Of this and the other "Hawkeye's jokes are a symptom of his complex traumas" episode, this one is hitting him SO much harder about it, positively You're In A Narrative shit. Elated. Alan. Again.

Just self-identified as Ben Pierce. Everything’s going, excuse me, bottoms up.

“Our own clean-cut, adorable, soft-spoken BJ is a perverse genius.” When are we??!! This was still true in early S6 at the ABSOLUTE latest. This has not been true at all for nearly three years. Clean-cut! What! Soft-spoken. At this point BJ yells in every third episode.

Waaaait a minute, don’t malaria pills give you weird ass dreams? Well this has incredible potential. Perhaps not here, but for me.

Thank you for the return of Margaret & Hawkeye: Buddies. Hawkeye: “Alright that does it, I’m putting him on report. How do you do that?”

Okay is this gonna be the only M*A*S*H episode that ends with a scientific note about medical advances since the 1950s?? Can all of them???

I have been wondering for nine seasons now about the PA announcer we have never seen. Wonderfully banally surreal. This comes entirely from the same realm as Radar's clairvoyance and I support it with all I am.

Hawkeye has phantom allergies and after their tests are inconclusive it takes all of no seconds for them to start offering garlic and essential oils. NOTHING IS NEW UNDER THE SUN.

Continuing to glimpse Margaret hovering outside and hollering in suggestions whenever they open the door to the showers is SUCH GOOD STUFF

I appreciate the uh, SEVERITY of how badly Hawkeye has deteriorated in one scene cut. I did play a game later with my therapist friend called When Would YOU Call The Psychologist, and she also would not have picked Sidney over like, an ALLERGIST, at this moment. Granted I would like them to call Dr. Freedman every episode on the grounds of I love him.

Well I am deeply enjoying the psychological detective show this one has turned into. It’s so tactile! Will Sidney find an meaningful object in one of these boxes that explains Hawkeye’s psychosomatic sneezing?? Haha what a House M.D. episode.

Ah so your mom was still alive when you were six. Your mom was gone by the time you were what, 10? Oh honey…

Of course little Hawkeye almost drowned. I don’t know why that fits for him but it does. I guess because we've seen him experience quite a number of upsetting things while sopping wet. Hawkeye, dripping water and distressed, is a regular visual feature.

Gooodddd one of the best odd little things this show does sometimes is give us lines that don’t make sense, and we think we must have misheard, and then realize we didn’t, and then the floor feels a little loose.

Wow so we’re just gonna open this one directly with Swayze, huh

Wait okay, in the space of showing up for his second scene this ep I’ve come around to Rizzo. I think it’s that he’s always been crouching. It makes his deep raspy voice so funny from this angle. You just come around a corner and aw JEEZ it’s that baritone rat again with his little rat craps game. I thought we told you to clear outta here!

“Don’t think of it as a den, Father, think of it more as a…rec room.” Ogden Stiers….

You know who else’s characterization has moved more into a realm I find less interesting as the years have gone by? Father Mulcahy. He’s more what you might expect from a priest in a MASH unit now, usually around just to get righteously worked up over things. In the early seasons he was kind of lost and unsure and dorkily funny, askew from everyone else, but sweet and loved. Henry Blake tumbling into the Swamp and nearly hitting him with the door, swearing, then going “Oh I’m sorry Father I thought you were a regular person,” and him just cheerily, bashfully going “Quite alright!” as he ducks out. He was, above all, a model of empathy and forgiveness. He loved them, as Jesus loved, and so forgave them all their ridiculous, drunken, horny goings on, and was worried but content to just be kept as their sort of pet chaplain. Mulcahy in the later years has a MUCH much stronger sense of judgement, and is frequently quite caught up in his own even rather self-aggrandizing issues, to the point of sometimes being blind to the struggles of those around him, like is going on here. And he always figures it out, but like, I don't know it just feels more typical to me.

“Tasteless but at least it’s not funny.” Haha Margaret

Radar??! Hawkeye, misty: “That little twerp, just when I thought I’d gotten over him.” </3

“Just cuts and bruises—I’ve come home from dates in worse shape than you.” Hawk, don’t toss more kindling on this low-burning fire in the corner of my mind.

I kind of adore Margaret befriending the optometrist. They both LIKE each other a lot, in a completely platonic way.

I ADORE MARGARET AND THE OPTOMETRIST PRETENDING THEY’RE HAVING AN AFFAIR AS A BIG OL’ LARK

I also like Hawkeye and BJ taking bets with each other where they bet the same thing and then just exchange their money

Mulcahy: “What time is it in Iowa?” Charles: “1882.” I laughed so long.

Kellye holding the injured nurse’s hand. <3 They’ve been pals for seasons on seasons. I don’t know her name!

This felt like, appropriately war-is-hellish, while still maintaining their wry humor. This was real good.

Hawkeye’s French toast recipe has so many textural components...

Reeeally love the strange, moving simplicity of Charles just desperately asking this dying soldier, “What is happening to you?” Yeah, good episode!

— — —

Season Viewguides

These

[shinygoku]

With the Beatles (1963)

Time for part 2 of CutCat Reviews Beatles Albums now it's February!

An iconic picture to be sure, but I'm not wild on it. Maybe it reminds me too much of trying to fit pictures into a small MS Paint Canvas? lol

Like with Please Please Me, I think there's some songs that slipped under the osmosis radar and that I ain't heard in full. Though I think the only albums I've listened to from start to finish all in order are the 1 CD, Revolver and Sgt Pepper, so I'll stop mentioning it on these early and the later ones... We're also still in "a fair few Covers" country, so will I be as mild on them as I was on the Non-Boys of PPM?

SIDE ONE

It Won't Be Long: I first heard this fairly recently, on the radio that was playing in another room. My thoughts weren't that strong, other than that "She Loves You" does the Yeah! repetition better lmao. Having been able to it properly since, though, I'm a lot warmer to it! It's optimistic and energetic, and the even higher amount of Yeahs is funny (though I maintain that SLY easily wins the Yeah Battle... but more on that when I reach it~). Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!!

All I've Got To Do: This one seems to get slept on a lot... it's pretty solid, but it doesn't really offer any particular Iconic moments. The chorus shakes things up in a nice way but it seems Sticking Power ain't something it has. It's one of many songs that go to show how amazing this band was, as this isn't bad, but it's been left far behind by the other songs they've blessed us with, innit?

All My Loving: Now THIS is a memorable song! Such a jaunty guitar with the direct words! A real narrative is being laid out, albeit as an assertion of future things being promised~ Ah nuts, it blasted my memory of the previous song outta my head... XD - Seems this is the only one that got Red Album'd in this list? Wild that it's only the 1, but I think the right choice was made.

Don't Bother Me: George time! I'm not clear on if the narrative here is a post-breakup or if he's being dramatic about a spell away from the GF, but the main crux is that he doesn't want non-GF contact at that point in time. It's much moodier than most'a their stuff from this time, and there's more damn nice instrumental work.

Little Child: The title on it's own has me somewhat 8(, and the lyrics unfortunately confirm this [albeit Dancing on it's own ain't that bad, but one knows Dancing is often a euphemism in songs like this, or a precursor to more]... I'm sorry for such a negative, potentially pearl-clutching response. But also the music isn't charming me enough to coax me into softening my view. The first real Dud of this album, imo.

Till There Was You: Now THIS, I like! I was baffled why this seems to fly under the radar of Iconic Beatles Songs, but I since found out it's a cover, so that's probably the explanation. The lyrics are decent but the real appeal is that absolutely gorgeous guitar work and bongos, they provide such a warm feel~ It's also giving me strong "Anime Ending Credits Sequence" vibes, which I'm quite partial to ^w^ ...Issit just me or does Paul gain a slight Irish accent when he says "no, I never heard (them/it) at all" :0c

Please Mr. Postman: This I DID know was a cover from the start, haha! It's a very catchy song, but even with my sizable Beatle Bias, I can't really commit to declaring this one as the best... it's very good and very listen-able, but it may be that the definitive Mr Postman is somewhere else...

SIDE TWO

Roll Over Beethoven: Again, it's a cover, but I've not heard Chuck Berry's OG take at the time of writing. The song is pretty groovy, George's vocals ring nicely. I'm not dazzled, but I like it well enough :>

Hold Me Tight: Another Beatles original, another one that tends to get omitted from Mentions...! It's nice, but a lot plainer than most'a the stuff, lacks a certain Pizazz

You Really Got a Hold on Me: Another cover, one I've prolly heard before by a non-Beatles act, while this one is another Fine, Inoffensive romp that I lack strong feelings for lol

I Wanna Be Your Man: Now I know this one was somewhat famously given to The Rolling Stones, and I even heard that played on the radio too. When it was their version, I wasn't impressed. Sung by Ringo, as it had been intended initially? ....I'm still not that impressed. Mostly in the lyrics, it's real repetitive! But my Ringo bias keeps it afloat, and it's odd Mid-ness makes it more memorable than others on this album.

Devil In Her Heart: A good cover, this! George doing nice vocals and the candance to the title is catchy, and ooooh the instruments in the background are also fun, are those maracas I hear? It gets bonus points for the harmonies disagreeing with the lead too, hehe

Not A Second Time: The last original of this album, and it's not really doing it for me. Something about it kinda blurs into itself. Their later betrayal type numbers are more my bag, baby

Money (That's What I Want): And we're closing the experience with one more cover. I dig the instruments, most notably the piano, but the song itself is just, like, whatever lmao, Maybe it's too overtly materialistic and a bit listless? Man oh man does the Pink Floyd Money blow this outta the water lmaooo

CONCLUSION

Best 3: It Won't Be Long, All My Loving, Till There Was You

Blurst 3: Little Child, Not A Second Time, Money (That's What I Want)

Overall Quality?: An improvement over Please Please Me, though in a way it's more level quality makes it a bit harder to pick the best at least best songs in it. Most of the covers are again decent but not amazing, and the originals are hit and miss. Unfortunately it seems side 1 got the Lion's Share of memorable, fun numbers, leaving side 2 with also-rans, though in that is Devil in Her Heart at least!

🪲🪲🪲🪲

On the next part, it shall have been (?) A Hard Day's Night and its all-original song lineup! Just the Album though, if I'm looking at the Film it'll be another, separate instalment ^w^;