#what a plot twist the most perfect human being to exist is MINE. OH I MIGHT PASS OUT

[daomaikeng]

besties i am very very very happy to announce that cockroach boy, aka the best human being i’ve ever met, is now officially and finally my boyfriend!!!!!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 cockroach boyfriend, if you will 🏃🏽🏃🏽

[cellophanejpeg]

crimson red paint

Pairing: Max Phillips x female!reader

a/n: i know we’re all on board of the Din Djarin train but this is..... something lol. also happy halloween everybody, i managed to finish this earlier than i thought i would, and i’m so happy!!!! i hope you like it!!!

warnings: tw blood, smut +18, this has almost zero plot, soft ooc Max, but also dark and rough Max 😈 mentions of sexual harassment. maybe some unrealistic smut, but hey, I know you don't care! also I wasn't planning on that ending, but…. you’re welcome

word count: 3.5k

masterlist

“Does it hurt?” You ask him one night when you’re nestled against him on the couch. A corny horror movie is playing on TV, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention to it.

“Just the first puncture.” Max’s voice makes his chest vibrate against you. “Like when I first fed from you, remember?”

It’s been almost two weeks since you told Max you wanted him to turn you. You’ve thought about it for a long time, months even, and you decided you wanted to be with him forever. At first, you weren’t sure if he was going to go with the idea, given that you’d never shown interest in becoming a vampire. But you’ve been with him for years and you have no plans of leaving him that soon and asking him to turn you into a vampire was a huge step, not only in your relationship but also in your life.

So he asked, about a million times, if that was what you really wanted. That would mean abandoning your old life, leaving friends and family behind, to live eternally by his side. Honestly, you’re not against it. You and Max might as well be married by now, knowing and living with each other for so long. It just made sense.

Max told you he wanted to make it special, surprise you with it. You know he wanted to give you some time to appreciate your last days as a human being. He was thoughtful that way.

When you first met him, though, you were sure you hated him with all your guts. He was very charming, you’d give him that, but the way his ego was the size of a hot air balloon turned you off completely. Max had tried to go out with you for the longest time, making your life at the office very difficult, always flirting and calling you pet names, but never going beyond that. It wasn’t until he fired a particular guy who had been harassing you for the longest time, that you took an interest in him. Max defended you, staying by your side and believing your allegations against that particular man. Then, you started to think Max Phillips wasn’t that bad after all.

You decided to give him a chance after that and, despite your expectations being very low, he actually exceeded them over the top. He even paid for dinner and didn't harass you the entire night. Who knew he could be such a gentleman?

Well, almost seven years later, here you are, your legs on his lap as you both chill on the couch of your shared apartment.

“Are you gonna miss me as a human?” Your voice is shy and quiet, full of uncertainty and doubt.

Max tears his gaze away from the television and looks at you, his brows furrowing for a moment before he softens his look.

“Well, yeah,” he replies, honestly.

Not expecting that answer, your jaw drops and you kick him in the ribs, knowing he won’t feel a thing. Max laughs and grabs your calf before you can kick him again, turning his body to face you.

“I mean…” He starts, pulling your legs towards him. You easily slide down on the couch, your back now flat in the cushions. “Will I miss feeling your warm, soft body under mine when I fuck you?” He cages you slowly, setting himself between your legs and pressing his body against yours. “Yes. Will I miss your scent when you get wet?” He grabs your outer thigh abruptly and you gasp in surprise. “Absolutely. Will I miss the taste of your blood?” Max gently presses his lips on the column of your neck and you close your eyes, groaning with the sensation. “You bet your cute little ass I will.”

“Max…” You whisper his name when he lets out a low growl, intertwining your fingers on his hair.

You can feel his fangs scraping against the skin of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He knows your heart is beating like crazy inside your chest as he buries his face on your neck. With the touch of his sharp fangs on the skin of your neck, you embrace yourself for the familiar light pain, wondering if it’ll hurt more when he turns you into a vampire. Usually, Max bites you when things are hot and heavy in bed, and most times you don’t feel a thing, just a puncture followed by the pleasant feeling of him licking the wound. But now… Now you’re kinda scared it’ll hurt. And you like it.

Max hums and smiles against your skin, kissing his way up to your lips. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Shut u–” You gasp when he slips his hand between your legs, caressing you over your pajama pants. He approaches his lips to your ear and you shudder in pleasure, tightening your grip in his hair.

“But will I absolutely love to see you as a vampire?” He continues as you mewl under his touch. “To see your eyes turn red when you’re hungry for blood? To feel your body on mine, and to not have to hold back? To be with you forever?”

“I–” You try to speak, but your words are cut short when Max tugs the waistband of your pajama down and dips his fingers between your folds.

“Babe, I’ve been waiting years for you to ask me to turn you.”

With that, he slips two fingers inside you, watching as your breath hitches. His thumb meets the bundle of nerves and starts circling it, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You bring his lips to yours in a passionate kiss and you moan on his mouth when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot you love so much.

"Oh, baby," you whimper, already close to your climax. "Max, fuck–

"Use your words, babygirl." He demands, a dominant one in his voice.

"I-I–" You try to speak.

"You want to cum, right?" He smiles when you nod, biting your lip.

Max presses his lips against yours again and then starts a trail of wet kisses until he reaches your pulse point. You shudder in anticipation, your breath heavy as the sensations overwhelm you. Once more, his fangs tease your skin and you feel the minimal prickle of them followed by his warm tongue massaging the spot. And then your legs shake and you're moaning his name over and over as you let it all out, coating his fingers with your fluids. 

He doesn't stop until you're pushing his hand away from you, squirming with overstimulation. Then, he waits for your breath to be even, his body still caging yours, your fingers still tangled on his hair. Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you and you whimper at the sensation of his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit.

“So, you’re not gonna leave me for a warm soft human, once I’m a vampire then?” You say once you’ve calmed down. Max snaps his eyes up to look at you. You’re smiling but he knows you mean it deep down.

“Knowing you could kick my ass? Never.” He teases. “And I don’t want to.”

“Aren’t you gonna get tired of me?” All of sudden, your tone sadder this time. “I mean I’m gonna be immortal, right? Just like you…”

Max smirks at you and rests his chin on the valley of your breasts. “Aren’t you gonna get tired of me? It’s the whole eternity, baby.”

“No,” you answer without a beat, frowning. “I mean, you are a dick most of the time, but I love you. I’d never–”

You interrupt yourself when the penny drops and Max just raises his brows. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and look away, pressing your lips together.

“Babe." He adjusts himself so he can approach his face to yours. "I don't care if you're a human, a vampire, or a fucking elf…"

"Do elves exist?" You ask, widening your eyes.

"It doesn't matter." Max shrugs your question away. "The point is. Whatever you are, however you wish to live, I'll never get tired of you." He gives you a peck on the lips. "Wanna know why?"

The smile that comes to you is impossible to suppress as you kiss him once more, mumbling on his lips. "Why?"

"’Cause you have a nice ass." He whispers slowly.

"I am going to beat the fuck out of you." You don't flinch as you speak on his lips; Max chuckles and reaches to cup your jaw, deepening the kiss.

"Oh, and also I love you," he says when he pulls away from you.

The laugh that comes out of your lips is soft as you shake your head, biting your lower lip.

"Who knew that, to keep Max Phillips on a leash, all you had to do is have a nice ass."

Max laughs and gets off of you, grabbing your hand and pulling out of the couch.

"Come on." He starts pulling you to the bedroom. "I have to finish what I started."

…

Max is up to something.

You know it because he'd never paid for a hotel room for the two of you to spend the night after a date night. And he just texted you, telling you to wear that red dress he loves so much because he was going to take you to dinner and then to a hotel room.

Deep down, you know what's going to happen, but you decide to shove this thought away.

He'll pick you up at seven, just after work, which is in an hour and a half, but you can't help but start getting ready already. You feel your stomach twist with the sudden change in Max's behavior, but try to take a couple of breaths to calm yourself. You're sure it's nothing. Maybe he got promoted and wants to celebrate.

Yeah, that's what it is. A promotion.

The dress is one of the many he bought you, but it's his favorite. Low cut, silk material, hugs your curves and it's tight in all perfect places. Red. His favorite color, naturally. You put on some makeup and try to do your hair, but your hands shake slightly in anticipation.

Eventually, you're done with a few minutes to spare. You try to get distracted, putting a video on your phone to pass the time, but the jitters in your stomach are always there. When Max texts you, saying he's waiting for you, you take the apartment's key, turn off the lights and take a deep breath before leaving.

"You look gorgeous, babe." He greets you with a kiss on the cheek when you enter the car.

"You like it?" You smile, smoothing the dress when it raises, exposing your thigh. You know he likes it when that happens, but you feel nervous and you have to do something with your hands or he'll know.

"I love it. You know it."

You give him a smirk as he starts to drive to the restaurant with a hand on your thigh. His thumb traces circles on your bare skin and, occasionally, his fingers slip to your inner thigh as he scratches lightly on your sensitive skin. He knows what he's doing, he can smell your pheromones when you get aroused, which is why he's trying to turn you on right now.

Max is a little shit and he knows it.

"You okay?" He asks nonchalantly, glancing at you briefly before returning his eyes to the traffic.

"Y-yeah." You stutter, swallowing hard. He doesn't say anything else, but you see the smug smirk on his face.

After you arrive at the restaurant and take your seats, you finally ask him what's in your mind.

"What's the occasion?" Your eyes are on the menu, but your heart is in your throat.

"We're celebrating," he replies, setting the menu down and looking into your eyes.

So, it is a promotion. See, nothing to worry about…

"You got promoted, then?" You look at him surprised, ready to congratulate him. But he frowns his lips downwards and shakes his head.

"Nope." Max shrugs and looks at the menu again.

A quiet pause hangs between you two and you feel your heart speed up, the twist in your stomach coming back stronger than before. You see a half smile on his face and you fucking know he listening to your body's reaction.

"W-well." Your voice trembles. "Then, what are we celebrating?"

"You'll see."

Just like that, you’re all nervous again. Not even the food calms you down once it arrives, having lost your appetite despite Max telling you to eat. Regardless, dinner lasts forever and Max even orders a dessert, making it last even longer. But he still doesn’t tell you the reason for all this until dinner is over and you’re both at the hotel room’s door. You feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest as he takes the card and inserts it in the keyhole.

“Baby, just breathe.” He pauses and looks at you for a moment. You look into his eyes, those inviting, warm eyes that always made you feel calm and safe, and take a deep breath, nodding.

When Max opens the door and lets you in, you see the biggest suite you’ve ever laid eyes on. The door leads to a room with dark wallpaper and black carpet. The bed is huge, with a golden duvet, the nightstands and desks covered in small candles, lighting the room dimly. You take some time to observe the room as you hear Max close the door and walk behind you.

"Max…" Your voice trembles. "What's the reason for all this?"

"I think you know, honey."

His voice suddenly gets dark and low, and you audibly swallow, your heart speeding up as you feel his lips on your neck. He gently nibbles on your skin, sending a wave of pleasure and adrenaline through your entire body; you shiver, letting out a shaky breath and closing your eyes.

“It looks like a ritual.” You joke, then pause. "I'm scared." You confess before you can stop yourself from telling the truth.

One rule of your relationship with Max is always to be honest with each other. Especially because he can sense things better than you. Whenever you got mad, or upset at him he'd always know and ask you to tell him the truth. You liked that about him. Even though it irritated you sometimes.

"I know," he mumbles into your skin and then gently takes your chin, making you look at him. His eyes are already glowing red when you look at them, but his gaze is soft at you. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," you answer with no hesitation.

Max then crashes his lips against yours in a rough, yet firm kiss. His hand cups the back of your neck, bringing you closer to him and you open your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. Pulling you towards the bed, Max hooks an arm on your lower back and sits on the mattress as you straddle him, lacing your hands behind his neck.

You grind your hips against him and he groans, squeezing the flesh of your hips and guiding you on top of him. Max tugs at the thin straps of your dress, pulling it down to let it fall on your waist, revealing your breasts to him. He doesn't waste time and cups them roughly, kneading, and pulling at your nipples roughly. You breathe heavily on his mouth, gasping and whimpering, while you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie and pulling it off of him.

He runs his nails on your back, making you moan and throw your head back; his lips connect with your neck as you grind hard on him, your climax building up more each second. Your skin already glistens in the glow of the candles with sweat, your moan getting louder as Max teases your skin with his fangs.

“Max!” You whimper, your begging tone like music to his ears.

“Not yet.” He growls and easily switches positions, grabbing you by the waist and throwing you on your back.

He kneels on the bed, eyeing you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. Max takes his time as he shrugs off his shirt and reaches for his belt. Your hands tremble as you pull your dress over your head, and hook your thumbs on the elastic of your underwear.

“Don’t move.” Max orders as he undresses. A feeling bubbles in your stomach, anticipation making your shiver as you look at him fisting his cock in his hand. “Stay like this.”

The smell of sex and sweat reaches your nose and you wonder if it’s stronger for a vampire. You guess after tonight, you’ll know.

“You wore this for me?” He asks as he leans down, hooking a thumb on the elastic band of your lingerie. You give him an innocent look and nod, your lips curving into a sweet smile. For a moment, he smiles too, before he pulls your underwear to the side and dips his fingers into your folds, moaning when he finds you soaking yet. “Oh, baby…”

“Max…” You close your eyes, whining his name.

“I love it when you say my name like that.”

Max then adjusts himself on top of you and enters you, giving you no time to get used to the length of him. Through the seven years of your relationship, you had sex with Max countless times, in any way you could possibly imagine. But not like this.

Not like tonight.

Tonight he's rough. Feral. And it's not like he's never been rough with you. Tonight it’s different for some reason. He’s different. Or maybe you’re different. You don’t know. It’s hard to think when he’s pounding hard into you, his hips slapping against yours, hitting that sweet spot over and over.

It’s like he was holding back all these years and is finally letting go. You feel his cock stretching you and hitting hard against your cervix that you worry for a second if you’re going to bleed. But you bet he’d like that.

“Fuck– Baby–” Max groans in your ear. “I– Shit, you feel so good–”

You moan loudly when he cups one of your breasts hard, pinching your nipple. The climax is almost there, you can feel it as you tangle your fingers on his hair and pull hard. Max groans and moans and you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Sorry, baby, but I– fuck, I lied.”

His words seem to pull you out of your pleasure haze and you pull your brows together, looking at him with confused eyes.

“What–” You try to speak, but when you feel the sharp of his fangs on your neck, you gasp.

“This is going to hurt.”

You barely register his words before you feel him closing his mouth on your neck and biting into your skin. The pain doesn’t come right away, instead, you feel a pressure, and then, moments later, it feels like fire. It spreads from your neck through your entire body and you feel it everywhere. Max groans as he drinks your blood and you feel the vibrations from his voice as tears blurry your vision. At some point, you don’t know if you’re going to cum or pass out. Maybe both, because you finally feel yourself clamp around him, the waves of pleasure hitting you stronger than usual. You shake and whimper his name, nails digging on his back as you moan and gasp.

And then everything goes black.

…

Max pulls out of you at the moment you blackout. His lips are smeared with your blood, his eyes still glowing red. He drank enough of your blood to taste it like he never did before and he wondered why he didn’t turn you sooner.

Well, he knows why. The idea had to come from you, he couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to. Losing your humanity isn’t like choosing which place you were going to order dinner from.

He remembers what it felt like. Being an immortal creature, freshly turned, thirsty for blood, and craving violence. So, he promised himself he’d take care of you. He’d help you, teach you how to be a vampire. You’re his partner after all.

Max sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Leaning over, he presses his lips on your forehead and tucks you in, knowing that when you wake up, you’ll be a different creature. He climbs off the bed, reaching for his trousers on the floor; with another sigh, he shoves his hand on the pocket of them, pulling a black velvet little box from it. The diamond ring glistens in the candle lights and he smiles to himself, knowing for a fact you’ll love it.

Finally.

__

tags: @huliabitch @mistermiraclee @murdermewithbooks @gooddaykate @kingpascals @theocatkov @aerynwrites @haildoodles-writing @hiscyarika @bestintheparsec @opheliaelysia @buckysalefty @din-damn-djarin @the-wishmonger @forever-rogue

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[savrenim]

i am running thru ur tumblr to find ONE POST to cite for tvtropes, and i agree so hard with the soulmate stuff. what if my soulmate is an awful abuser, i want the choice to NOT be with them without some painful physical consequence or loss of perception if i don't date them just because the universe said we were "meant to be"... plus if it's just a magic thing it "feels" more justified in-universe that soulmates exist and less like an ass pull so you could justify getting 2 characters together

oH gods this is something that I have SO many feelings about that probably is slightly informed by my own orientation and preferences, but. feelings. this got long so it's going under the cut

so there are three and a half major things that I have a problem with in terms of general soulmate tropes that are "there is one person who is your perfect romantic partner" (which to be fair I've seen a number of soulmate AUs do that trope with the addendum "although it only applies to a certain percentage of the population / not everyone has soulmates / everyone has soulmates but not everyone has SUPER PERFECT ROMANTIC soulmates" which at least somewhat avoids the statistic inevitability of abusive soulmates if combined with Fate Can See The Future And So Your Fated Soulmate Just Won't Be) and these complaints aren't even from the "I'm poly where's my poly rep" kind of place which is a whole 'nother bag of worms, but let's go:

1. I aggressively believe that love is a choice. Love is something that is built, not predetermined before you meet someone. There might be initial compatibility aspects going down when you first meet someone, but, like. statistically there are more than seven and a half billion people on this planet. If there is only a single person perfectly meant for you, again, statistically, you are not going to meet them, I've seen the figure thrown that on average a person will meet on the order 10,000 people in their lifetime but let's even go 100,000, you will meet 0.001% of the world's population. Unless you think some sort of divine coincidence or fate is guiding you to a soulmate which throws free will out the window and then I can't help you but, like. discarding the math, I think it is actively harmful to a relationship to believe that it can be sustained on chemistry or predetermined 'but we're perfect for each other' alone. It requires work. You choose who is in your life, you choose who stays in your life, you choose who you want to be important to you based on what they contribute to your life and what you contribute to theirs.

(I am assuming this ask is at least partially in reaction to my soulmate post, which actually the fic in question, a buried and a burning flame, has since gone up. I highly recommend reading Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard first, but besides the setup for arson wizards that alas is never used because the fire mage with a soulmate in question is Responsible, I decided to both tackle 'okay soulmarks trope too let's throw it in', which leads to the not-really-a-spoiler passage that appears fairly early on about actually the full layout (albeit with less detail on the 'yeah for mages it just helps ground their magic, nothing romantic about it' part) of my Soulmate Rules:

Soulmates existed, both in the Empire of Astandalas and across the Wide Seas. They just worked slightly differently in Vangavaye-ve than the rest of the worlds.

The rest of the Empire seemed to view soulmates as a monolith. From what Cliopher had been able to glean, the tradition was grounded in their magic. Magi had soulmates, or rather, magic-workers would each have a soulmate. Cliopher wasn't clear if all magic-workers had a soulmate, or if magic-workers simply could have one, but there was always a mage in soulmate pairs, and it was always a pair. There were no marks, no visible signs involved, as soulmates were something that were sensed with magic. They were permanent, intrinsic, and to be recognized immediately.

To Wide Sea Islanders, soulmates were a choice.

The soul-marks, lana and lani-voa, would appear the first time you touched someone that you had chosen to love, with the full knowledge that you loved them. Cliopher had the marks of his mother and father, his sisters, Basil and Dimiter, Bertie and Ghilly. His skin was covered lovingly with the colors of his love, marks that he had gotten used to concealing with long sleeves in Astandalas when he had gotten tired of the constant staring at his 'primitive tattoos'.

Buru Tovo had been the only one to give him lani-voa, a greater mark of the soul. The pattern, with its thick lines and twisting design in a deep blue, extended over the entirety of his left arm and shoulder. They were the dances of his family pressed onto his skin, and he had traced them over with reverent and feather-light touch for months after he had received them. A lani-voa marked someone who had changed your life for the better in a deep and irrevocable way. It was a great honor to have even one.

And now, with the gold stretching up his right arm, new patterns that he didn't recognize stretching up from a handprint of pure gold that was expanding the longer he held that first contact with Tor—

now he had two.

(Buru Tovo is Cliopher's great uncle, for context. In fact, everyone listed there is either a familial or platonic relationship, with a single relationship that used to be romantic but settled into platonic.))

so. yeah. Love is a choice! The Biggest Of Moods! any soulmate lore that undermines that is a Bad Message, in my opinion.

The emphasis also on platonic soulmates leads into my second point:

2. I have found in my life that platonic relationships that I have are and have always been as important if not moreso than the romantic relationships. the emphasis of a single romantic relationship as the most important relationship that you can be in maybe fits for some people, but as a generalization to absolutely everyone I think is toxic and harmful. and not just for aro people! I'm not aro, but I would be miserable to write off my friends as Less Important And Meaningful to me than my parter, whom I love with all my heart! (I've actually ended up in my life settling into what I call the red/blue/gold system for 'relationships that I treat with the importance that society treats romantic relationships', but that's a personal thing). The standard soulmate trope tends to really solidly deliver the thesis of "there is a single romantic relationship that is the single most important relationship in your life" and I just think that's a very bad thesis.

3. Finally, I think the emphasis on permanent/forever is a harmful one for relationships in general. People change. you drift closer to people or further away from them. you move, they move, your schedules change, your interests change, your life changes. if you are living with a romantic partner you're going to keep seeing each other every day, but that doesn't stop you from changing as a person, which means see Point 1 Love Is A Choice; but even if you choose to remain together, you are probably eventually going to Ship Of Theseus your entire relationship. I think it is an important message that if that happens and it is no longer a relationship that is as deeply positive as it once was in your life, you don't...have to keep it out of loyalty to what it once was.

It's okay for people to drift out of your life that were once the most important person in your life. It doesn't invalidate how important and meaningful that relationship used to be, and it isn't a betrayal to let yourself and them and your relationships change and evolve. The idea that something has to be forever for it to matter I think is the idea about soulmates that I disagree with the most. Probably because that was the hardest lesson for me to learn as a kid and a teenager, and the life lesson that I am proudest for learning.

3.5 your point 'plus if it's just a magic thing it "feels" more justified in-universe that soulmates exist' is exactly on the nose, literally I am unable to write anything without attempting to write down a universal theory of everything for How The World Works. if something soulmate-wise is going down even if it never appears on the page you bet your ass I have either figured out the general cosmology and theology of "are there gods or divine forces who have instituted this policy? if so, why? what purpose does it serve", or in the case of abaabf which already has such interesting magic rules in the original canon of "is there an evolutionary reason for soulmates to exist" which I don't go tracing out full evolutionary biology for a fic necessarily mostly because I would want the full evolutionary biology in canon to make sure mine is compliant enough but that sure as hell does translate to "if soulmates exist and it's not for the reason of Because Godlike Beings Said So, there better be a practical purpose". I find at least long-form soulmate fics (ie things With Plot and a Developed Setting that aren't just "let's do a ficlet with this well-known trope") that Do Not Feel Like They've At Least Thought About Why Soulmates Happen To Exist hurt my soul. which I think slightly intersects with my "I hate it when the rules of the universe/ laws of physics are human-centric" instead of "the base rules which were not designed for humans came first, and how the human world works arose in reaction to them" and. yeah. consistent desire to know at least for myself why things are set up the way that they're set up which gods ifmlam is wild and completely bullshit and pulls from quantum multiverse philosophy I started writing that thing when I was like. eighteen? nineteen? but at least it's there so I can be consistent.

as a caveat for everything above: I don't actually think that fiction, fanfiction in particular, needs to perfectly reflect what A Good Relationship or A Good Message About Relationships should be. it is a very human desire in a chaotic and confusing world to want a simple, absolute, binary thing to hold onto. fiction is a place for escapism or wish fulfillment or even exploring things that you wouldn't actually want in real life, I think that the movement in fandom/fiction that all of the messaging in your story should match the advice you'd give for a real-life setup is a bad and harmful one. mostly my opinions on soulmates and hence desire to do inversions of the soulmate trope in my fic and things like the red/blue/gold system and heavy emphasis on platonic relationships in original work that I'm writing is about a desire to see representation for me and the things I love and find important and my sort of relationships in the stories that are a big part of my life. but I am really glad that in doing so I seem to have struck a chord in other people, who maybe want to see the same thing!

[popwasabi]

“Westworld III” takes several steps forward...and several steps back (REVIEW)

Created by Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy

Starring: Evan Rachel Wood, Jeffrey Wright, Aaron Paul, Ed Harris, Vincent Cassel, Tessa Thompson, Thandie Newton

(SPOILERS AHEAD)

Season three of HBO’s “Westworld” cleans up many of the issues season two had but ultimately falls short of season one’s loftier thematic ideas.

It’s cinematically sharper, it’s about as well paced and fun as the show has ever been and that on it’s own makes it worth watching and certainly worth continuing the series going forward but for fans hoping it might have something new to say in the vein of its hyper meta-textual and thematic commentary of the first season it may leave you disappointed.

Season three may have raised the stakes of the series with its pending (and frankly, all too timely) apocalyptic vibes going on in the story but it lowers the bar on its cerebral nature opting more for fast paced thrills over anything more profound or hadn’t said already.

That said, I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it anyways for better…and worse.

“Westworld” season three picks up not too long after the events of season two as Dolores has infiltrated human society and begun working on her master plan to bring it all down. She has spared Bernard, who now spends his life as butcher outside the major cities but he often wonders where she is and when this apocalypse will begin. Meanwhile a veteran named Caleb spends his life doing the same mundane tasks and mercenary work everyday to make ends meet pondering his existence as he deals with his PTSD. He decides to break the cycle however when one day he finds Dolores shot in an alleyway and joins her on her quest to start a revolution.

“Westworld” is one of the few series that hooked me immediately with its first episode.

Where some series take their time to gain momentum before going into overdrive in their season finale, season one’s “The Original” grabbed my attention from the start with a combination of mystery, action, stellar acting, and the kind of cerebral humanist story-telling I expect and want from the cyberpunk genre.

As someone with a father who talked extensively about myth, theme, and got me to listen to old Joseph Campbell essays on CD  growing up, a series that explored story-telling on a meta level with a high octane LARP concept setting was everything someone like me could ask for in a science fiction series.

(Seriously, there was some compelling analytical story-telling dialogue in this series.)

So invested I was in this tale of synthetics gaining agency and humans exploring their own personal myth-making and what it said about themselves made me a huge fan early on, proudly proclaiming it to be the best show on HBO several years ago.

I was so certain this series was creatively the best thing on television at the time that I strongly considered getting a maze tattoo like that in the show to proclaim my brand-new fandom.

But knowing there was still more seasons on the horizon, I held off thinking I should probably see this through before doing anything that brash.

Well, a few years later I feel pretty good about that decision…

(Imagine how fans who named their newborns Daenerys or Khalessi feel right now...)

I remember thinking at the end of season one “Where can they possibly go from here still? Other LARP destinations in this cyberpunk world? A robot vs human war? How can the world expand?”

The problem is these thoughts did not really ask the most important question following that first season; “What more does it actually have to say?”

The first season is, in my opinion, a perfect season of television. It’s a brilliant take on the stories we tell ourselves, the choices we make that define us in our personal myths, and the exploration of our nature and how that relates to choice all while playing out this synthetic mystery plot. The entire first season pulls all these arcs and ideas together through characters like Bernard/Arnold, William/The Man in Black, and of course Dolores. They all, more or less, complete their arcs in that first season and there’s not really much needed to be said beyond that when you really think about it. If the series ended on Dolores murdering Ford and the Delos guests in the season finale that honestly would have been a perfect ambiguous ending to send the story off on.

(Kind of itss own meta commentary on the journey of a fan and an ever-increasingly cynical series...)

But because this is HBO, and “Game of Thrones” is no longer the driving force of premium TV, Westworld MUST continue because it’s the new cash cow for the channel. Whether or not writer/producers Lisa Joy and Jonathan Nolan really knew what they wanted to do following that first season is anybody’s guess but it’s hard not to see that they have struggled a bit since that point.

Season two is a mixed bag, where the characters literally feel like they’re going in circles. Plotlines get muddled, characters become hyper versions of themselves, and while certain ideas and episodes reached similar levels of brilliance that the first season had it still lacked the narrative sharpness of the first season and that has a lot to do with the characters having mostly no other driving force besides survival and simply getting to the next physical plot point.

It just didn’t have much more to say and frankly in a story about stories that’s pretty damn important.

(This episode from season 2 is still one of its best.)

To their credit, Joy and Nolan appear to rectify quite a few issues season two had with season three. Again, it’s faster, better paced, there’s a clearer destination at the end for its characters and not to mention a pretty compelling villain for this season’s plot in Serac played by the brilliant Vincent Cassell.

But it suffers ultimately the same problem; it has nothing truly new to say.

This is not to say the season is without any meaningful messages or metaphors. It’s quite critical of our hyper surveillance and information gathering state, might even be the best depiction to date on the broader implications and consequences of a world where we all have our personal information readily online to mined and plundered by big businesses and government. Caleb, played by the always great Aaron Paul, is a good avatar for the everyman who has grown jaded and disenfranchised by this system. Though he spends most of the season looking overly shocked and gape-jawed at just about everything, it’s hard not to feel empathy and a connection to this character as we are quite literally living in a bit of a cyberpunk hell as it is these days and treated just as much as expendable commodities right now.

(You fucking jackasses are arguing for the wrong things! You’re all being swindled and cheated for nothing! *photo “unrelated”*)

The season is generally best when the focus is on him, as the first episode delivers a strong start in the same way season one did.

Where the season begins to fall apart though is when quite literally the world “Westworld” inhabits begins to do so itself. Serac’s Rehobaum, which reminded me just a little too much of “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’s” Deep Thought, releasing all its data to the world and everyone discovering they’re basically all dangerous assholes is almost hilarious to me. 

Though the idea of hyper data controlling our every move is a good cyberpunk metaphor to jump off of, the way this bit is executed is a little over exaggerated and clumsy.

(Though it does deliver a pretty powerful scene regardless.)

This isn’t actually a tremendous problem with season three, but it doesn’t do much to add to what we already understand about the story; which is how narrative controls us and how important choices and free will is to that. All this is already told and expanded on in the first season through Dolores, all season three does it bring it to a macro level and put that onus on the humans instead of the hosts. The hosts were already a metaphor for humanity anyways so again the story in some ways hasn’t changed much since season one.

It's interesting to have the narrative of the hosts turned on the humans but thematically it feels redundant.

I’ll add that this isn’t the worst idea they could’ve gone with, it works in moving the physical aspect of the story forward for sure, and I wouldn’t even classify it as a bad one, but again the problem is the story has largely run out of new things to tell us.

We like stories because we want to learn some truth about ourselves, whether we want it to or not, and Anthony Hopkins’ Ford makes a great point of this in season one. This has been the purpose of myths and legends since the dawn of time and it’ll be no different even when the 37th Fast & Furious comes out in 40 years. You could argue that the message of Westworld deserves repeating or that it’s not important to the entertainment value it still provides, and you might be right. But for a series like this, that is so invested in what stories mean I don’t think it’s wrong to think there should be more to it than this.

(Maybe, I should’ve...)

Of course, there’s still plenty more to see out of “Westworld” for the foreseeable future as HBO won’t be canceling it anytime soon and certainly it’ll have its chance to still tackle more ideas and themes in the future but, at this point at least, it’s been less meaningful that its first season.

There are other problems too, namely Dolores constantly changing and unclear revolution plans and arcs resolved offscreen, certain side plots with other characters ultimately going nowhere, and a fairly predictable twist with Caleb, but this is the crux of the problem with the series as it stands now and the one worth mentioning the most.

(And Maeve, *sigh* oh Maeve...)

That said, season three really is a lot of fun despite my issues with the narrative. The pacing, as mentioned, is great from start to finish. I was never bored or disinterested during this season, despite its flaws, and the action bits are frankly better than they’ve ever been as the series goes full cyberpunk in parts with great robot on human and robot on robot action.

The cinematography is sharp and striking too as Jonathan Nolan shows he’s definitely Christopher’s brother with some beautiful, haunting shots of the future Los Angeles city Gotham-esque skyline set to Ramin Djawadi’s excellent cyberpunk score that gives the new season a more noire-ish feel that would make Vangelis and Hans Zimmer proud.

(In the future Los Angeles will be Singapore!)

The acting is still stellar of course. Though Jeffrey Wright’s Bernard is largely wasted in this season and his plot goes nowhere, his scene with Gina Torres in the finale is touching. Luke Hemsworth is dry as hell in a good way as Chief of Security turned personal buddy bodyguard to Bernard as Ashley Stubbs. Ed Harris is wicked and dastardly as always as William and of course Evan Rachel Wood is solid as the driving force of the series as Dolores.

(Out of context season 3 spoiler.)

The finale doesn’t leave much to say beyond a pending machine vs human war though which has been building up since the first season anyways. While I can see some possibilities for an interesting direction here, I can’t say I’m as intrigued as even the finale to season two left me.

In some ways, season one left me not too much unlike William going into season’s two and three; looking for additional meaning in something that wasn’t looking to tell me anything deeper, at least right now. Perhaps the maze just isn’t for me anymore but moving forward I’ll be lowering my expectations.

(Oh my God! Meta commentary on meta commentary! It’s meta-ception! I’m beginning to question the nature of my reality!!!)

“Westworld” remains a fun cyberpunk action series that can hold your attention span for an hour, and I think it’ll maintain that energy consistently going forward, but it might’ve been best left where it was when Dolores put a bullet in Ford’s brain.

I do hope it can regain some of its original spark at some point but until then…it doesn’t look like anything (deep) to me.

VERDICT:

3.5 out of 5

You said it, Marshawn...

[flameofchaos]

Whispers in the Dark - The Slayers Fanfic

A word or two from me: 

the main ship: Xellos x Lina Inverse . Necessary warnings will be included in the beginning of every chapter.

Special thanks for @naiokiara for being my Beta <3 and @wicked-game-black-butler for being my spiritual support <3

Prelude

Somewhere in the Beginning of Ages.

The Darkness moved in the astral dimension, forming, gathering and… slowly splitting. The Greater Beast Zelas Metallium, one of five the most powerful subordinates of the Dark Lord Shabranigdo was already tired, but her efforts weren't over yet. 

The Sea of Chaos had created them, Mazoku, and Zelas could only follow the need The Lord of Nightmares filled them up with: destruction. 

The material world existed, giving them pain, annoying, burning their astral beings. It had to be destroyed. It had to be changed into ashes all together with the Mazoku, and melted back to the Sea of Chaos. They needed more Monsters to achieve that. The World was huge. 

The Five Lords of Shabranigdo instinctively understood what to do. Four of them created each two cruel children: a General who would lead their army of darkness and a Priest who would lead mortals to their doom. 

Zelas Metallium had another idea. Why divide your own power so much, when you can create one perfect servant? A General and Priest at once, her only and the most perfect child.

The Darkness moved again like a snake around the smaller, weaker one. The part of her. The arm with which she was going to crush the world.

Wake up, my Xellos. Wake up and spread destruction for me, so we can be one again and return to the Mother of Chaos. We have to die and the World will die with us.

The smaller blackness was twirling faster and faster, taking the form of a tornado created from evil astral power.

His first form, but not his last. 

Xellos took his first “breath” and his newborn, still fragile mind was filled with the first feelings: hatred and frustration.

 He shouldn’t exist. He wanted to die at the moment he became alive. The newborn Mazoku trembled in suffering, his thoughts clinging more to his “mother”, not wanting to divide from her. Zelas showed him a vision of the World: living creatures there, their aim, and… she left him alone.

The twirling dark tornado scowled in the emptiness of the astral dimension.

Chapter 1

Present time. The Outer Lands after Hellmaster Phibrizzo's death.

The sorceress reached for another plate filled with a tasty-smelling meal, practically taking it from right under the nose of her comrade, a swordmaster, which caused his growl of disappointment. The gingerhead witch answered with her own look, full of lighting as a threat. 

What could she do? The fried shrimp in pasta at this inn was delicious. She wasn’t going to share it with anyone. Not even Gourry.

The last few days had been complicated and the plot twists of unplanned (or more or less planned by their new “friend” Filia ul Copt, the Priestess of Light) accidents led them into those lands outside the Barrier, where almost no one knew real magic, and had mixed them, adventurers, into a prophecy about the end of the world.

Again, others expected Lina to be a hero.

No vacation for me from dealing with Monsters, she thought, a little tired, but happy that on their way to the Flare Dragon King’s Temple, they had found such a cosy place to eat and rest tonight.

Zelgadis was resting on the other chair, drowned into a book he’d found in the library. He was always focused on his search for a cure for the curse of his chimeric appearance. Amelia also was somewhere near, probably teaching simple people about justice and law.

It was so comfortable at the inn now. Even a bard was performing, telling about legends and heroes. Lina was listening with one ear, though. Often she had opportunities to look at “legends” from definitely too close for her taste, and she knew too well that being a hero was overrated. 

Tasty food and cosy beds were the only things that could reward Lina’s suffering.

“We shouldn’t stay here,” complained Filia, approaching their table. “The night is bright. We can continue our journey! The prophecy clearly said! We will be doomed soon!”

Lina Inverse gave the blonde woman a rather gloomy look, chewing shrimp. The priestess and her notions for a mission. For sure it was Filia’s first time rescuing the world.

“I fully understand it and  -- Don't touch this fillet, Gourry! It's mine! --  and I respect your sacred role, but… Filia… You are a golden dragon. We are just mortals. We are tired! How can we defeat all the evil the prophecy will throw at us if we are so exhausted?”

“One night here won’t change anything,” interrupted a familiar male voice. The adventurers turned their heads to see a man in a black travelling priest outfit sitting at the nearest table. Dark straight hair hanging a little below jaw level, in the light of the fireplace, seemed to shine with a violet tint, and characteristically half-closed eyes alarmed the group more than a bucket of cold water poured on their heads, because they were the only ones in the inn who knew that those eyelids were covering reptilian vertical pupils. “Better stay here and have some fun. And hush!!! Listen to this story. It’s a good one!"

Lina raised her eyebrows, focusing her attention on the bard's tale. It was about a girl who fell in love with a Mazoku who wanted her dead, but in the end the pure soul of the maiden had won and the evil creature loved her too, abandoning his dark paths.

“Oh my. I will cry.” The violet-haired priest rubbed his eyes in a gesture of being touched and clapped his hands. “Beautiful story!”

“But Mazoku can’t love, Xellos,” noted Gourry brilliantly, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, don’t ruin a great tale with facts, my friend. I adore fairytales. And tea. Mortals’ inventions never cease to amaze me.” The man sighed in delight and took a tiny sip from the cup.  “Anyway, hello! <3” An innocent smile brightened his sympathetic face, which made mortals treat him like one of themselves. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU STINKY GARBAGE?” Filia finally recovered from the shock caused by the sudden appearance of a high-ranking Mazoku in the inn. Like always, her allergy to the greatest enemy of her race was stronger than anything.

“Oh my. Are you deaf? I’m greeting everyone. You too, my sweet Miss Filia.” Xellos’ smile became wider when he directed his next statement to the bard: “Please! Tell us another FAIRYTALE. Maybe now about the good manners of golden dragons of light?” 

Filia’s face became grey, then blue and finally red, when she realised that their group was  the center of attention for all the people gathered at the inn. The blonde priestess grunted, trying to calm down and not give that pathetic Monster a chance to humiliate her more. The dragon girl smiled politely at the violet-haired man and Lina thought that the priestess’ delicate face would crack into pieces from that forced expression at any moment.

“Oh, Xellos, what a… surprise! So nice to...ekhm... see you!” mumbled Filia.

“The feeling is mutual.” The Monster opened his eyes a little more to fix the pissed dragon lady with his mean amethyst irises.

“How is your... health?”

“Good, I can’t complain, thank you very much!” Exclaimed Xellos happily, his voice sweet like a poisoned chocolate.

Lina rubbed her temples. She had to part those two or soon the town would stand in flames. Like always.

Filia clenched her jaw and sat next to the sorceress as people in the inn returned again to their own business. Her beautiful blue eyes met Lina’s with a clear, angry message: Do something with him.

It wasn’t easy, though. Xellos' presence was a funny problem. Has anyone ever seen a chicken getting a hawk to just go away if it doesn’t want to? Chickens should sit quietly and pray that a hunter isn’t hungry. At least not at the moment. 

So the group should be happy that Xellos (for whatever reasons he has this time) was in a chatting and not killing mood, and Lina was very aware of it, praying that fate wouldn’t ever have them cross paths as strict enemies. Well, officially, they were. Mazoku desired to destroy the world. Humans desired to survive. But who says that they have to jump unprovoked at each other's throats? Especially when Xellos seemed to not be very friendly towards Valgaav. The former servant of Gaav was very thirsty for Lina's blood, as he wanted to avenge his master’s death.

As the saying goes: the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Lina preferred to keep Xellos on her side, even if the alliance was fragile and temporary.

However, she could understand Filia’s feelings. Zelas Metallium's Priest had had a very significant role during the War of Monster’s Fall, more than a thousand years ago. Xellos murdered hundreds of golden dragons with just a wave of one finger. Maybe Filia was too young to remember that, but her superiors for sure described the massacre to her with details. 

In her place Lina also wouldn’t be very fond of this particular Monster.

“Can I kindly ask you to leave us alone?” Tried again the Dragon Priestess, still with that fake politeness. “I’m reminding you again: I found Miss Lina first and she will help me to rescue the world!”

“And I’m asking again too: Do you really want to quarrel with me about who, you or me, has the most right to use Miss Lina for their own goals?” Xellos took another sip of tea.

“Hey, you both know I am here and I’m hearing you two, right?” The gingerhead sorceress slowly lost her patience. “What do you want, Xellos? Tell us and go away.”

“And should I abandon such a charming dragon lady’s company?” 

Now Lina could literally feel and share Filia’s need to wash that insolent smile off the Mazoku’s face with a fist.

“Maybe I’m just guarding you from another nasty trick of Valgaav’s? You want me around, Miss Lina.” He opened one reptilian eye to measure the sorceress.

The girl wanted to stand up and scream at him. Mostly because he was right. Xellos always found ways to trick them but it was much harder to trick him. It’s not that the Monster could read Lina’s thoughts, but like every Mazoku, he was an empath. The sorceress could almost feel his astral aura licking her emotions. Besides, maybe in his human form Xellos looked harmless, and sometimes he acted like a total dumbass to confuse people, but a fool was the last thing Lina would think him to be. 

In this situation where Valgaav was hunting on Lina, and Xellos was hunting on Valgaav, it was clear that the Monster wanted to talk about the alliance in detail. Well, maybe not in Filia's company.

Lina nodded without a word, agreeing to his unspoken invitation to the “negotiation table”, and the Monster Priest closed his eyes again, finishing his tea and standing up.

“Well, you’re right. We can’t stress our dear Filia so much. She could get wrinkles because of anger. See you soon then.”

“You little shi-” The blonde was ready to jump on her enemy's head, but Gourry quickly covered her mouth, reminding her that as a Servant of Light she should have more control about filthy words.

Lina blinked and then gave a shrug when she couldn't find Xellos. He had vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, so the sorceress opened the menu to order a dessert. Who knew how the rest of the evening would go, so something sweet should reward her with a cool shiver travelling down her spine, even as she thought about what she had agreed.

A lady shouldn't let a man into her room in the middle of night. Especially when that man is the essence of evil.

[nadziejastar]

Thoughts on Soranort?

“Hey, I got an idea. Ask your heart. See if it’s got a clue.”

“Well…my heart was aching. That’s why I kept going.”

It was almost too much to bear. The sorrow—the pain, and so many other feelings. A suffering so much greater than anything he’d ever known. Hatred, sadness, anger, jealousy, fear, resentment, anguish, envy, uncertainty, pain, despair. Who did these feelings come from? Roxas? That woman? Those two people called me Ven—maybe him? Or someone else?

“Oh… Thank you, Sora’s heart, for pushing him right into our clutches. Aren’t hearts great? Steer us wrong every time,” Xigbar remarked, mocking as ever.

Personally, I don’t think he would have made a good Nort. But that’s why he was the hero.

Sora was targeted as a vessel because he had pain inside of him. The pain wasn’t really his, though. It was the memories inside of him, which didn’t even belong to him. That’s why I think he’d make a pretty boring seeker of darkness, from a story standpoint. He’s better suited as the hero. I think almost all the Norts were handled VERY poorly, though. The Dark Seeker Saga just turned out to be a huge flop in the end. It was supposed to be all about healing pain. Not just for the missing guardians of light. But the seekers of darkness, too. There was a reason they all got Norted, which KH3 did a VERY poor job explaining. It was because they all had pain that led them to abandoning their heart.

Ansem’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “If he wavers from the path we lay, we destroy him.”

“But in that case…we’ll have to find ourselves another vessel.”

Xigbar barked a laugh. Another vessel…, he says, as if it’s nothing. Just one piece of their grand, far-reaching plan.

“That is why we never have just one iron in the fire,” Xemnas replied matter-of-factly.

KH3 was supposed to be all about Xehanort’s search for a replacement vessel after Sora failed in KH3D. Vessels are not easy to come by, so “reserve members” shouldn’t even be a thing. I think the person they were supposed to be talking about in this scene was Davy Jones. He was a perfect vessel because he didn’t have a heart, but he didn’t die. He cast away his heart because it caused him pain. He would have been like the Beast in KH2, where they were trying to get him to join he organization. 

This world could have felt like it was relevant to the main story. But Davy Jones’ heart got little focus and all anyone cared about was the stupid black box, which isn’t even relevant in this game. The whole idea of the seekers of darkness becoming vessels because of pain got very little attention. When you defeated them in the Keyblade Graveyard, there should have been a sense of healing for each character’s pain and a sense of resolution to their story. The sad remix of the organization music was SO GOOD. Instead, most of them ended on a cliffhanger, which is absurd.

And then there was the heart that nestled close to mine. There, it continued to quietly encourage me. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here now, standing in front of his grave.

Master, did you forgive me? Or maybe I haven’t been forgiven yet and I’m only still here so I can atone? I know there are no answers to my questions and no one has to forgive me for my sins. Even entertaining the thought of being forgiven is so presumptuous of me. A weakness.

The only vessel handled even semi-decently was Terra. His personal pain was given a lot of focus in BBS, so his story didn’t feel particularly incomplete… except when it came to Eraqus. I don’t feel Terra got proper closure with him. Terra didn’t even know if Eraqus forgave him, which is just sad. Terra’s messed up relationship with Eraqus was the whole reason he fell to darkness. It was his doubt that Eraqus truly loved him like a son that made him so susceptible to manipulation. It broke my heart how Terra was reluctant to hug Eraqus at the end.

“Not your concern.” With those parting words, Xehanort strode away. Eraqus slammed a fist into the floor as he watched him go.

Why did I fail to stop him? Is it my fault? Where did I go wrong? Is the darkness itself what beguiled him so? Must this plague steal my dear friend from me?

Then you got Young and Master Xehanort. In BBS, people kinda saw Xehanort as Lord Voldemort. People couldn’t see how Terra could trust him, because he was so obviously evil. But he was human, too. He was Eraqus’s dear friend. I’d be willing to bet it was some personal pain with Eraqus that led to Xehanort falling to darkness completely. Xehanort had no backstory, though, so it was hard to understand why he gave up or why he and Eraqus seemed so happy together in the end.

Ansem talked about some kind of betrayal, but I had no idea what he was even referring to here. 

Xemnas also had pain. He had Terra’s memories, spent years looking for Ventus in the Chamber of Waking. He was lonely, though this is never explored in any way.

I think Luxord probably joined the organization voluntarily. But why? He isn’t loyal to Xemnas. I doubt his original backstory was being some amnesiac Keyblade wielder from the age of fairy tales. He hinted at some personal pain due to “compulsive behavior”. I’m sure he had a sad backstory that caused him to join for his own reasons.

Why am I in the Organization? Well, I mean, there’s lots of reasons, but—oh, right! I wanted friends, right? Oh, no. Wow, actually no, that sounded way uncool but… now I’m thinking back on it and I’m just like, yeah, I guess it kinda was like that, huh.

Aside from the whole old guys’ club going on, it kinda seems like there were a lotta tight-knit groups in the Organization. Y’know, like Axel and Saix, Marluxia and Larxene, Zexion and Vexen, and Xaldin and Lexaeus? And I guess in the end, I hung out with the old guy a lot.

Yeah, so it’s not like it’s a big deal, seriously that’s it. I hate fighting and jamming out is way more fun. Sad stuff, painful stuff, why would I wanna do anything like that?

Let’s assume that Demyx was supposed to be a real member of the true organization instead of Xion (which is what I believe). His Character File story hints that he had pain and also that he became very close to Luxord. Which makes sense because they were some of the only members left after Castle Oblivion. Axel spent all his time with Saix, Roxas, and Xion. So, Demyx and Luxord really had no one else, and probably hung out with each other a lot. So, Demyx might have joined because of Luxord. But this is never explored in any way and Demyx is just a plot device to deliver Replicas.

SYMBOLISM Strelitzia is seen as the flower of freedom, and also represents immortality and paradise.

In early trailers, Marluxia had green eyes in the Rapunzel world, meaning he was not even supposed to be fully Norted before the final battle. So, I think he did join the organization of his own free will. But he had personal pain that led up to it. The loss of his sister. She said she’d carry him on her back, then his final boss form in CoM has him riding atop this strange woman figure. All very interesting. This is something that should have been wrapped up in this saga, though.

Sigh, it was so much better when I had no heart. When I didn’t have to worry about things like liking someone. Becoming fond of something is painful. That’s why those feelings were taken advantage of.

I think Larxene loved Marluxia and wanted to be by his side. She didn’t even want to regain a heart because it caused her pain. There should have been resolution to that at the end of KH3 instead of leaving it dangling.

Xigbar had pain, too. He was constantly haunted by his memory of Ventus glaring at him. You could tell that he was jealous of the bonds the other characters had. He commits suicide at the end due to the guilt he has. I would have said that his story was handled well if it ended with his suicide. It was pretty sad. But they reversed it and made it out to be a ruse. Xigbar was just faking his entire personality the whole time and was really Luxu all along. WTF!? I just can’t…

I wanted to be like you. I was jealous of you. Who was I exactly? Did I even exist? I’m just a puppet with no heart whose fake memories were planted in my head.

I was made, I’m artificial, I’m a fake. What do I need to become a real person? Or rather, was I a real fake? I fell into the dark and wandered the world of darkness.

Riku Replica’s story wasn’t resolved well, either. He spends all of CoM being tormented about not being the real Riku and that no doubt leads him to joining the organization. But then after he’s defeated, he gets no closure to his identity crisis. Instead, another “good” Riku Replica comes and rips the “evil” Replica’s soul out (WTF?) and then that story is over. It becomes all about Namine at that point. He sacrifices his only chance at life for her, which is kinda weird and depressing. I would have preferred if Riku Replica gained some kind of peace with being a part of Riku and then going home into his heart, like Xion did at the end of Days.

Whereas Ven’s worries and suffering were proof of his growth, his proclivity toward the light, Vanitas’s own misery was merely a pitch-black morass that brought with it nothing but pain.

We’re so different, but I could feel you every step of the way. I bet you didn’t notice me at all. What does this battle between us mean to you? You probably don’t have a clue that it means our hearts are intertwining. The fight itself doesn’t matter. What’s important is that our struggle makes us feel the same things. You hate me for trying to hurt your friend now, right? And I hate you right back for having friends at all.

Never once is any attention given to Vanitas’s pain. He despised Ventus and was jealous of the fact that he had friends. All the Unversed came from his negative emotions. Ventus told him they were the same and that he needed to come home inside of his heart, but…he doesn’t? Instead of finding some kind of peace by going back to Ventus, he just… disappears. 

The person who probably suffered the most was Axel. Because he’s the one who forgot the most. Being forgotten and forgetting, they’re both painful.

Saix’s pain turned out to be a joke. He couldn’t find some random girl he spoke to a few times, boo hoo, such a sad tragic backstory. He had to be quickly turned into a good guy before the epilogue, so he only joined to “atone” not because of any pain. His real pain was supposed to be about his relationship with Lea.

Cancer is ruled by the Moon, the planet of receptivity. It’s the zodiac sign related to feeling and emotions in our hearts. Cancer is, in many ways, the most sensitive and vulnerable sign of the zodiac. They feel deeply, but they’re not sure what to do about their feelings.

Emotions tend to play a dominate role in the lives of people born under Cancer. Naturally defensive and sometimes afraid of being hurt, they tend to put their heart and soul into all their relationships, and are very faithful, loyal and loving partners. Cancer people are extremely sensitive to matters of the heart. It is easy to hurt their feelings and they become deeply emotionally wounded when wronged, and can take a long time getting over it.

Also, I just really like the idea of Saix as a Seeker of Darkness. Cancers have very delicate hearts and are very emotional people who are vulnerable to pain. 

[elftwink]

What are your feelings about wtnv condos?

WELL, since you asked: 

for one i think most everything has been said about cecil calling carlos perfect prior to condos and imperfect after it. i agree w/all that, i think its beautiful and it makes me cry and also it’s so cohesive and such a good character development thing BUT like i said, it has been covered so i won’t waffle about that. but i will waffle about the way that perfection is presented in and of itself and how that presentation is tied to night vale’s larger themes. namely, this line:

“I understood that the cubes are perfect! I understood that this is how we become perfect. I understood that what I was seeing was the way to perfection. And I don’t know how I understood this. Thinking about it now, nothing about it seems good, let alone perfect.” [bolding mine]

night vale is far from the only media around that covers the idea that perfection is a myth that people spend their whole lives chasing. i think what it does that works so well is that it never portrays perfection as completely unattainable— in fact, the plot of the episode hinges on the fact that the character can access a perfect existence— but rather as alien. so far removed from a real human experience that looking at it from an outsider perspective, as cecil does after the weather is over in that line, makes it very nearly incomprehensible. 

and moreover, the people who are “perfect” within the context of the episode are not, in any tangible or understandable way, “better” than they were before— which, as far as my personal media consumption goes, is a fairly novel twist. off the top of my head i can think of several stories or plot points that revolve around a protagonist being offered a perfect existence and refusing. basically any media that involves omnipotent beings will have a plotline like this or similar and stories about human beings refusing like, divinity or power or wealth or skill or whatever it might be are kind of a staple of like, every genre. HOWEVER the idea tends to be that they have something to gain from that; power or wealth or status or knowledge or something, something that might be massive and that they could never hope to achieve or accrue on their own.

the condos offer no understandable improvement. they don’t even offer the promise of improvement. the demonstrations of perfection and the examples we are given as an audience are not glorious or grandiose but foreign and terrifying, something that the characters openly admit. 

“Janice Rio (from down the street) saw a city. A lost city. A dead city, nestled in a jungle – the kind of jungle that only ever existed in books written by people who have never seen a jungle. The city stood, and Janice stood, in perfect dread, its doors were open jaws. Its windows were open jaws. Its roads and avenues were gaping mouths and open jaws. That dead city teetered. It rotted in its jungle tomb, but…it was not empty. And she started to run. Run through the thick foliage of that absurd place, she shouted and ran.”

“Roger Singh (who had been able to buy a condo with the spine) saw a cave, underwater, in an ocean far to the north. And the water around him was dark – so dark! – that he wasn’t sure even which way led to the surface, to life…and which way led down only to the deep silent. He gasped, but found he had no breath…and no need to breathe. And there was this cave that smoldered with a light, a light that was charged and alive. And shadows moved against the light, cast by…what?…within the cave. And then he swam towards it, uncertain whether he was guest, or sacrifice, or invulnerable dreamer. And he heard a song from the cave, and he knew it, and it was perfect. And he sang along, but at the same time, he had never heard that song before in his life. And what was life? What made it his? It all seemed so small, part of the world that didn’t exist anymore.” 

and like, to some extent, so what, right? who cares if perfection is seen as desirable vs unknowable? what difference does it make? well, i will tell you/theorize about it abstractly. i find that this framing of perfection makes it much much clearer that wtnv intends imperfection to be celebrated rather than tolerated. 

the order of events is not imperfection is human -> being human is good -> imperfection is good, but rather, imperfection is good -> humans are imperfect - > being human is good. cecil says pretty much this when he says: “And those imperfections in our reality are the seams and the cracks into which our out-sized love can seep and pool. And sometimes we are annoyed, and disappointed, and that too is a part of how love works. It is not a perfect system, but… Oh, well.”

and i mean, even in and of itself that’s a deeply moving thing to say. this post could end here with me saying that night vale’s framing of imperfection as not just necessary but integral to experiencing life in a way that is worthwhile makes for an incredibly powerful story. 

but condos is part of a larger story. and i’ve talked about parade day & old oak doors before, and briefly mentioned all right in that post. one of the most oft quoted night vale bits is the candle wax spiel from a memory of europe (the “time is like wax” speech). with these, and with countless other moments across the show, over and over again, wtnv is about the value of right now. of action. of effort. of choice.

what actually sets night vale perfection apart is that above all else, perfection is stagnant. the people in the condos float motionless and frozen. fading away. even when cecil says that they are able to be contacted, the action is still taken by the people left behind, imperfect: “Walking through where the condos once stood, you can hear their voices — but distantly, faintly. And if you reach out when you hear that voice, if you reach out and feel for them, you too will get a vision of some far-off place, a place that is, in its own way, in a way perhaps that can never be explained, perfect.” these people no longer do anything. they no longer live, even though they are presumably alive, in their own perfect way. the reason the condos offer no improvement is that improvement is growth, it’s movement, it’s action. improvement and perfection are antonyms. you improve for the sake of improvement, for betterment, rather than to attain perfection.

when cecil escapes from the condos, he does so through resistance, through fighting, through choosing imperfection actively. throughout the show, things happen because people try. they do. they live and they grow and they change and they discover and they fucking try. and when they don’t it’s to make a point about inaction, to show you that being static is easy and nice but that even in the face of all that, it’s important to try. and you try knowing you could fail. and you try knowing the odds are stacked, knowing that the world is chaotic and things don’t always happen for a reason. you try if it doesn’t personally affect you. you try if you have never tried before or if you couldn’t or didn’t last time. 

i promise i’m almost done but i couldn’t mention all that without saying something about how community is tied up so tight with those values that you can’t tear them apart. the way in which things happen is rarely because cecil does something on his own but because the town does something, together. relationships are built on communication and effort and trying, from one-on-one to city wide. the entire show is fundamentally built on balancing your inclusion in the community of night vale with your independence and ability (& sometimes duty) to act as a single person. you can stand alone, and if you must, you should, but you shouldn’t have to. and hopefully you don’t have to. 

disclaimer that i’m way behind on wtnv so i could be contradicted by more recent episodes and also this isn’t nearly long enough to really get Into It(tm) and also the wtnv has covered such a variety of topics that it’s very hard to make generalizations like this, but even so, i hope i’ve done it justice. also shoutout to cecilspeaks for all the quotes, here’s the full transcript for condos if anyone wants/needs it

anyway, on a final note, i think cecil really says it best so:

“A perfect place that you will never visit. And that is the best news of all. Listeners, I send you now back out into the night. And it’s dangerous out there, and it’s lonely, and it’s not perfect.

Goodnight, all of you here, goodnight, all of you listeners, and goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

[sterekloveaffairs]

Kiss me, I hate you - Peter Hale

Author: sterekloveaffairs

Characters: Reader x Peter Hale, Scott McCall, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski

Warnings: language, threats

Word Count: 1,857

A/N: This was a request from @doviesdawelshie : I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, I already had a story started, so it was quicker to finish that idea, if you’re not satisfied, please let me know and I will try to write a new one, it might take a little while longer, but I’d hate for you not to be happy with it, so let me know what you think!

We had never been the best of friends, and we probably never would be. Peter Hale was the perfect example of everything I hoped I’d never be. He was selfish, rude and downright evil, without remorse or consideration towards other people. That was all bad enough on its own, but I would probably be able to handle it much better if he didn’t feel the constant need to meddle and get involved in things that were none of his business. Or if he hadn't bitten my little brother Scott. I had always been very protective of him, and when I went off to my first year in college, I had been worried sick. It was during my Christmas break that I had found out what had happened. And I would never forgive anyone even just thinking about hurting my baby brother. So yeah, excuse me if I was a little tense around Peter Hale.

I knew I wasn’t the only one that was bothered when he once again showed up at pack meetings in Derek’s loft or decided that his opinion was of crucial importance to whatever we were dealing with at that time. I could often see Derek’s muscles tense, or Stiles rolling his eyes. However, I was the only person actively engaging in conflicts with Peter. I had zero tolerance for the man and absolutely no problem making that clear to him. I did not keep my mouth shut, and Derek and Scott were often forced to physically intervene, when Peter and I kept on working each other up until the point of no return. They only did that because I was human though. They knew that there was little chance of survival for me if Peter decided he was sick of my comments.

Today was one of those days. The faeries had been messing around in Beacon Hills for quite some time now, and we decided it had been enough. So we called a pack meeting to discuss the topic, and of course Peter showed up, and of course he figured that his opinion was the most important one. Add that to the usual derogation he radiated when talking to the pack -because, and I quote, they were just a bunch of silly teenagers-  and you can just imagine the fumes coming from my ears. But maybe that's just because it was Peter, because when Derek literally called Stiles a delusional idiot, I didn't really care. Completely disregarding my bias towards Peter, I could feel myself getting more and more wound up with every word he said and eventually with every breath he took. He had thrown me a few looks, but Scott had warned me before coming here that he didn't need the usual crap between me and Peter, so I had decided to just ignore him and not even acknowledge his existence. Unfortunately, I am not the best at keeping my body language subtle, so when I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh after yet another comment –I don't even remember what he said, that's how fucking useless it was- his head shot up and he glared at me as if he was trying to burn a hole through my skull. He probably was, asshole that he was.

"What is your fucking problem?" He snarled, and I nearly missed the 'Oh God not again' that Stiles muttered.  It took me a few seconds to take a breath and switch from my annoyed facial expression to a sweet, innocent smile.

"Why are you assuming that there is a problem?" I asked, "Besides you just being a stuck up know it all again and people getting seriously sick of it?" I saw him clench his fists and from the corner from my eyes I noticed Derek and Scott subtly inching closer to us, to jump in between if necessary.

"Stuck up- Listen here, missy, as far as I know, I'm actually contributing to solving this issue instead of just sitting around doing nothing but being a spoiled little brat that is only here because being supervised by her brother is the only way she will not get herself into some sort of trouble that might end up killing her because she can't keep her damn mouth shut!" Peter was on the verge of losing control, and somehow it pleased me a lot that I managed to get him so wound up. I mean, there he was, the self-proclaimed alpha of Beacon Hills and he was set off by a human woman. Way to go, tough guy.

"I was not saying a thing until you asked me a question. A stupid one, for that matter, but I did not expect anything else." He stood up, and so did I, because I would be damned before I let someone like Peter Hale try to intimidate me. Derek stepped in front of Peter, Scott put his hand on my shoulder.

"Scott, back off," I said calmly. Peter grinned.

"They're just proving my point, sweetheart. If I wanted, I could crush you like a bug."

"Then why haven't you? Aren't you supposed to be the mighty werewolf that has Beacon Hills shivering in fear? And you're backing off because of your nephew and a teenage boy. Some werewolf you are."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, you might want to be careful what you say to me, bad things might happen next time you're wandering around on your own for once, without your brother to save your sorry ass." Scott growled at Peter, I pushed his hand away from me and stepped around him, determined to not let Peter win.

"I don't need his protection. I can't help that people actually like me enough to not set me on fire and slit my throat." I could see his nostrils flare, his eyes locked with mine. They got slightly darker, and I ignored the chills that slowly crawled up my spine. He didn't though. He smirked once again, slowly walked towards me.

"That's right, silly little girl. You do know what I can do." I could feel the tension grow thicker, but I refused to look away. Yes, all of my instincts were screaming to back away. That means I'm not an idiot. The fact that I didn't budge, did mean that I'm in fact the biggest idiot walking this earth.

"Go ahead and try to threaten me, Peter. That's all you're good at anyway. Trying to overpower anyone that sees you for what you really are: a pathetic little man that has nothing to offer but teeth and claws." I could hear Stiles face palm himself, mumbling something about 'that mouth is going to get her killed' but I was too caught up to respond. Peter was close enough now for me to feel his breath on my skin, and I would lie if I said I wasn't at least a little scared. And impressed. I mean, I strongly disliked Peter, but I was not blind or stupid and I had fairly good taste, so I would have to admit that Peter was beyond handsome. Icy blue eyes, sharp jaw, broad shoulders and a shitload of muscles. When he stood in front of me like that, the chills running down my back might not all be explained by a little hint of fear. But he was outrageously annoying, and that was only proof that personality could kill all the charm of good looks.

"I'm getting so sick of your attitude," he hissed, stopping in his tracks when the next step would definitely be on my toes.

"Believe me, that feeling is completely mutual," I spat towards him, still not looking away, "and something else, if you-"

My words were muffled by nothing else but Peter's lips. He moved too fast for me to jump away, or to do anything for that matter. I squealed softly, wanted to pull back, but he put his hand –surprisingly gentle- on the back of my head, pulling me into him. His lips were softer than I could have ever imagined, and my mind and body were flooded with emotions. Disgust was one of them. How dare he kiss me and invade my personal space like that? How dare he assume that I would agree to this and use his physical strength to keep me in this horribly unexpected position? Confused disbelief was the second one. How exactly did this happen? Where in this conversation did he move from 'I might not kill you myself but I would probably celebrate if someone else did' to 'I can no longer resist you, kiss me like there is no tomorrow'? And why did he think that it was the same for me? And oh God, why did I not dislike this as much as I thought I would? Why am I not struggling nearly hard enough to show that I do not want this? Why am I even FUCKING allowing this to happen?

I pushed him away, and despite my strength not sufficing to overpower him, he did let go. He licked his lips while looking at me, and somehow that sparked an enormous rage inside of me. I raised my right hand and slapped him across the face, ignoring the fact that it had probably hurt me more than it had hurt him. But it was a very hard slap. His head turned to the side, and he chuckled.

"How dare you," I said softly. Where was my bitterness? Where was the anger I had meant to put in my voice? Why did I regret no longer kissing him?

He looked back at me, opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, I forgot all about NOT liking him and practically jumped him. I kissed him again, and this time I could feel even more passion. He put his hands on my waist, somehow my arms locked behind his neck. And boy, did he kiss me back.

I forgot all about the world around me, until I noticed Stiles gagging. I pulled myself away from Peter.

"Am I supposed to hit you now?" He smirked. I huffed.

"That’s because you interrupted me."

"My apologies. What were you going to say?" I could feel his hands caressing my sides, and somehow I felt really weird. What just happened? And I couldn't help but notice the slightest hint of sarcasm in his words. Asshole.

"As if you care." My voice suddenly sounded sharper again, and he let his hands fall away, as did I.

"That is by far the most disgusting plot twist I have ever seen," Stiles said.

"Shut up, Stiles," Peter said harshly. I frowned.

"Don't think for even a second that I will tolerate you being like that now!" I hissed. How was this possible? One second I can't get close enough, the next I feel like punching him in the fucking face again. Why was he such a dick?

"Same goes for you," He said darkly before turning around, grabbing his coat and walking through the door.

Something told me that this was far from over.

[script101]

The Doctor Falls/Credo in unum Librium: The Script (or "Think but this")

O.K., TV Show. You win. :-D

You gave me both emotional beats I wanted but didn’t think I’d get in a million years (spoilers after the jump), and you explicitly compared the abomination currently living in Madam President Hillary Clinton’s House to sewage.

In return, I officially forgive you for “Lie of the Land”.

We ARE clearly intended to remember that in that dreadful episode Bill was able to resist the lies. So I will remember ONLY that very basic premise and I’ll throw the specifics of that episode (which I found repulsive both on a personal level and on a dramatic level) in the garbage where they belong.

All is mended.

I had written a quick idea on a way to get to the emotional beats I wanted to see in the finale. I also had a lot of still-unanswered questions, but personally, I like Sci-Fi Joss Whedon style: if given the choice between a plot twist and a pile of answers or a single believable emotional moment, go with the believable emotional moment (loosely paraphrased from his comments in a documentary titled “Showrunners”). If the characters ring true, that’s more important to me then checking off every single question box.

1.I’d hoped that the first viewing would be about Bill. 2.I wanted the second viewing to be about a different character.

I needed Bill to survive and move on and AWAY from The Doctor. 2.If the above happened, I wanted the second viewing to allow me to focus on the tragedy of Missy.

~~~~~~~~

Just Plain Bill

The moment she woke up in the barn, I knew. I’ve been harping on “mirrors”, so I started crying within seconds. I knew that she’d be given a mirror shortly and likely would still not grasp what had happened. I did note that Twelve WAS kind kind when he was explaining to Bill what had happened, and when psychopath started mocking her in that accent I wanted to punch him in his stupid round face. But everyone did, amirite? (As an aside, given Twelve’s expressions and the limp in the scene in the barn, I was almost expecting him to start speaking with an American accent and pull a bottle of Vicodin out of that bag of jelly beans…).

I had had a nagging worry that Bill would turn out to be related to the Doctor or Missy/Master somehow. That would have answered a ton of questions but it would have felt cheap.

I also know Steven Moffat can’t win, and there will be attacks about “hand of God” because of the way Bill survived, but I don’t perceive the ending that way. The way the finale played out, “any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” DOES apply.

While describing what had happened to Bill, Missy said something that was entirely inconsistent with what she and the doctor had seen (there wasn’t a working heart to “scoop” out). We do not know what that gun did or did not do. We do not know what did or did not happen as part of being turned into a cyberman. We only know that the Doctor blindly believed he could fix it, only to later realize he could not.

As the extent of the injuries and harm Bill endured are unknowable (we cannot and should not believe the words of a psychopath who was getting off on inflicting as much suffering on those around him as possible), it is therefore plausible that an imaginary advanced technology (the sentient substance that was seen in “The Pilot”) was indeed able to cure Bill in a way that The Doctor could not.

And as far as I’m concerned, the conclusion of Bill’s storyline was FAR better than what I had suggested yesterday! Yesterday, in a post that intentionally had no hashtags, I mentioned something John Rogers’ had written: if you want to know what a show is about, rewatch the last scene of the pilot. I know that Bill’s rescue might feel unearned to some viewers, but I think it was perfectly foreshadowed in the last seen of “The Pilot”.

I also quite liked that when it came time to undo the horror that had happened to Bill, The Doctor was just set dressing. He didn’t help Bill. He didn’t save Bill. He was on the floor unconscious. His boasts and promises, no matter how sincere, were promises he has demonstrated over and over again that he could not keep.

I am no longer angry at Twelve (which is good since I bought most of seasons 8, 9, and 10!), but I do see his arrogance is unabated. It would have been disappointing to have had him control Bill (even if benignly!) all season, have her ripped from him by a psychopath who used and destroyed her simply to hurt the Doctor, only to have the Doctor claim credit for remedying the situation that only happened to Bill because of Bill’s proximity to the Doctor. I also am sad to admit that I still question how much he truly cared about Bill at all, as he consistently put her in too much danger and we were never told WHY he had chosen her out of his standing-room-only lectures.

To have Bill be rescued solely by Heather (young former-human who is making one helluva win out of a very bad situation!) after she learned how to control her new form of existence, all while the Doctor laid unconscious, was sadly perfect. He does not know that Bill survived. He cannot claim credit for Bill’s survival. With Heather, Bill now has complete agency over her future. I believe we can take Heather’s words as the truth: Bill can stay with Heather and be like her if she chooses, for as long as she chooses, or (“any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic” applies!) Heather will make Bill fully human again if that is ever what Bill wants. It’s also significant that in “The Pilot” even though Bill sneaked into The Doctor’s lectures, she was only interested in the CLASS. He chose her for personal attention. Bill chose Heather and lost her. Heather chose Bill but could not control her new abilities. I was happy to see them fly away together. When the TARDIS doors closed behind them, that was the door slam heard around the…no where: there’s no sound in space…well yeah there’s sound inside the TARDIS…but if a TARDIS door slams closed in space and no one is conscious to hear it…OK YES it still produces sound waves inside said TARDIS, but…never mind.

I really am not angry at The Doctor anymore, but he had failed in every way possible, and Bill’s continued loyalty to him was less earned than the Full-Circle and explicitly foreshadowed possibility of seeing Heather again.

I liked it. I know there will be people who don’t, but I was very happy with it. I actually think it was perfect.

~~~~~~~~

Oh Missy, you really are so fine!

Like I wrote in the unhashtagged post, Michelle Gomez is so likable that her character literally can get away with murder. The way her death played out was tragic, but it was the only way the audience could truly believe that she was sincere in her attempt to reform. When Twelve pled to both Missy and the Master to please stand with him and simply TRY to help, Missy understood what The Doctor could not: her previous incarnation was simply too much of a psychopath to ever be redeemed. She said she could REMEMBER what it was like to think and “burn” the way he currently DOES (present tense) and that she will miss it.

Note that she REMEMBERS it because she DOES NOT perceive people or the world in that way any more. You can only MISS something when it’s GONE.

Understanding the paradox of them both being on that ship at the same time, and WITH HER OWN MEMORIES of being that other person NOW COMING BACK in flashes exactly as the Master’s memories of dying on the ship began FADING, Missy realized that she HAD successfully CONNED and SCARED her former self (Missy: “which REMINDS ME… a VERY SCARY LADY threw me against a wall and told me…”). This was all a ruse. Missy NEVER wavered in her intent to redeem herself.

The performances were perfect. Missy knew Twelve’s plea to her former incarnation was not even falling on deaf ears, instead Twelve would be heard clearly, would be mocked, and his words would be mined for any sign of compassion that could be exploited as a weakness. Every moment Twelve wasted trying to convince the Master to do the right thing was another moment giving the bastard ideas on how to undermine him. This was a situation where a lecture would HURT his chances at success. Missy knows who and what she had been, and she knew that the former version of herself would stop at nothing to undermine the Doctor and inflict as much pain and suffering upon the innocent inhabitants of that ship as possible. She needed to to make Twelve stop talking immediately. She needed to remove her former incarnation from the equation as quickly as possible.

She knew the only way to redeem herself was to commit one final act of violence. She had to stop her previous incarnation. The only way to do that was to make him trust her by appearing, just for the moment, to betray The Doctor.

She remembered being that man. Because she remembered it so clearly, she knew there was no reasoning with him. Her former incarnation had been a completely unrepentant psychopath. He perceived his cruelty as a sign of strength. Missy also remembered the scary woman, and now realized that woman had been HER.

Missy thought she would be able to get to the lifts, inflict a slow fatal injury upon her former self, allow him to make it back to his TARDIS in time to make the necessary repairs, leave, and regenerate into her current incarnation. She knew that would happen because it already did happen. It would resolve the paradox. As soon as the elevator doors closed, she intended to return to The Doctor and help him.

She understood her former self so well, yet she had genuinely changed so much that she failed to realize just how strong his current urge to “stop at nothing” was. I think she felt pity, and I think that is what cost her her life.

Her paradox-scrambled mind remembered the scary woman. Her paradox-scrambled mind DID NOT REMEMBER that her former self had murdered the scary woman.

The moment she was hit with the fatal blast, she realized the irony of her miscalculation.

That’s why she was laughing.

The Doctor gets the glory, but it was Missy who truly died a virtuous death. “Without hope. Without witness. Without reward.”

She died alone, apparently without the ability to regenerate, knowing the Doctor would always believe she had truly betrayed him. She knew the deck would be abandoned and destroyed. She knew she would never be found shot in the back. We know from “Heaven Sent” that her species takes “forever” to die even if they cannot regenerate.

Since her last words to the Doctor were words of betrayal spoken only with the intention of being heard by her former self, her sacrifice will never be known or even suspected. The only legacy of her existence will be the sins of her past.

We might THINK she killed Danny. We might WANT to think that she killed Danny. It’s easier to accept INTENT rather than “sometimes good people are the victims of terrible accidents.” The truth is, we have, per the scripts, ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE TO INDICATE MISSY HAD ANYTHING TO DO WITH DANNY’S DEATH.

But… We do know Missy murdered Dr. Chang, the young man who had worked for her and liked her, for no reason at all.

We know Missy murdered Osgood for no reason at all.

We know Missy murdered multiple UNIT officers, one of whom was the father of a newborn baby, for no reason at all.

Depending on when Steven Moffat decided on the storyline about “The Hybrid” being Clara and Twelve together, Missy might have let Twelve shoot the Dalek cage holding Clara Prime. Even if The Hybrid was planned when “The Witch’s Familiar” was filmed and Missy would NOT have let Twelve kill Clara, her motivation was still rotten.

Missy personally has done so many things that are just plan unforgivable.

Now, though, by deliberately having her die where none but the audience would ever know what truly happened, we have no choice but to accept that she had truly developed a conscience. She regretted her prior actions. Her tears were real. Her motives pure.

Psychopaths are devoid of empathy, but they can instantly recognize it and exploit it. I was correct that the expression on Missy’s face at the end of “World Enough and Time” was compassion. Missy WAS deeply upset when she realized the cyberman was Bill. We KNOW Missy felt compassion because the Master STATED DIRECTLY THAT HE SAW SHE WAS FEELING EMPATHY. It disgusted him.

As noted, Twelve is still arrogant. We will never know if this was just a short window when Missy would have wanted to do the right thing, or if she actually could have been a force for good in the universe who died before she knew how to handle crisis situations because Twelve rushed her into this idiotic test. We know Michelle Gomez will not be back next season. The Doctor is going to change appearance because of the events of this episode, Missy is just plain dead.

Had they cast ANY ACTRESS OTHER THAN MICHELLE GOMEZ as Missy, honestly, WOULD WE CARE?

I don’t think so.

But they did.

And I do.

Her story was tragic.

Bravo, Michelle Gomez!

And BRAVO to Steven Moffat and Rachel Talalay.

[misty-reeyus]

Devil in the Details

written for @fyeahghosttrick‘s ghost swap, for @twistedsennennerd

i went with your second prompt: [Jowd and Yomiel bonding over some obscure thing no one would have assumed the two would like, let alone both enjoy. New timeline, after Yomiel’s release.]

upfront, the thing i picked might not be quite what you meant by “obscure”, but it’s what my brain kinda just fixated on and it does fit in that nobody would have assumed they’d both like it so. i hope this is okay!

It’s Yomiel’s second day as a free man, and he’s spending it as Detective Jowd’s house guest.

They’d all planned for this back when Yomiel was still locked up. Sissel made his wish clear the last time he came leaping into the prison through the phone lines to visit: As soon as they let you out, I want to see you in person. Jowd apparently agreed to it then, and now he’s making good on his word as he leads Yomiel to the living room, where his leg is immediately headbutted by a tiny ball of black fur.

Yomiel bends down on his knees to get down to Sissel’s level, and once he’s close enough to see a squeaky mouse toy trapped between tight jaws, the cat plops said toy into Yomiel’s hand and mewls contentedly. Yomiel smiles.

“Dinner will be in an hour. You two catch up all you like until then.” With that, Jowd turns his back and leaves the room---and if Yomiel wasn’t already looking for it, he wouldn’t notice the ever-so-slight hurry to his steps. But as is, it feels less like Jowd is just giving them some privacy and more like he’s trying to escape as quickly as possible.

Yomiel frowns. He doesn’t know Jowd well, but he thinks something’s been off about him ever since the moment they stepped into this house, something that wasn’t there when they met at the police precinct after Jowd’s shift. Despite how friendly and accommodating Jowd has been, he seems to be uncomfortable with Yomiel being inside his home.

Yomiel can’t blame him. The last time he entered this house, he left a smoking gun, a fresh corpse, and an utterly destroyed family in his wake.

He doesn’t want me to be here, does he?

It’s a stray thought, not really meant to be directed at anybody, but Sissel attaches his soul to the core in Yomiel’s brain just in time to hear it.

Not for the reason you’re thinking, Sissel tells him. Detective Jowd just doesn’t like reminders of the old timeline in general. He gets especially antsy when those reminders are near Kamila or Alma.

Yomiel nods, instantly understanding once Sissel visualizes it for him. Jowd wants to keep that lost, tragic past completely separate from the people who are now living blissfully in this present. Yomiel thinks of Sissel---the human one, the one who doesn’t know, the one who is alive and happy and waiting back at home for him right now---and gets it entirely. He wants to keep her as far away from their old life as possible, too.

Anyways, I want you to be here, Sissel remarks, nuzzling his nose against Yomiel’s hand. You’re my owner, too. Detective Jowd understands that.

That understanding is already far more than Yomiel deserves---but no, no, he doesn’t feel like diving into that bottomless pit of self-loathing right now. Instead, Yomiel just reaches out to scratch Sissel behind the ears.

His best friend purrs contentedly.

Yomiel hadn’t known the type of person Alma was when he manipulated her daughter into killing her. He hadn’t cared to find out. In his twisted state of mind, all that mattered was the fact that she was precious to Jowd, that she was the very best means through which he could make the detective suffer.

Yomiel has only been in this house for all of ten minutes, but he’s positive now that the woman he murdered was one of the very last people to deserve it.

Not that anyone would have deserved what Yomiel did, no matter who they were, but Alma is so honestly nice that the knife of guilt lodged in Yomiel’s heart just digs in that much deeper. Alma knows what happened between him and her husband ten years ago, yet as she stands before him now, she shows him absolutely no ill will. There is no suspicion on her face, no fear in her eyes---if anything, she seems amused to see Yomiel playfully dangling a squeaky toy in front of the cat---and her smile is warm as she asks if he would like anything to drink.

Alma clearly believes Yomiel is here to make amends---and even though he’s mainly here for Sissel, she’s not entirely wrong, either.

Even if his most grievous sins technically don’t exist anymore, Yomiel can’t forget them, and he has promised himself that he will never stop trying to atone. It may not be much, but having a real conversation with the woman who he once saw as nothing more than a disposable tool in a sadistic revenge plot is at least a place to start.

“Do you have iced tea?” Yomiel asks, finally letting Sissel grab hold of the squeaky toy so that he can stand and follow her into the kitchen.

“So long as you’re fine with strawberry flavor,” Alma responds, grabbing a glass from a cupboard. When Yomiel nods his approval, she neatly glides over to the fridge and tugs it open.

Yomiel immediately notices how eye-catching that fridge is, adorned with colorful magnets that pin up various assortments of family photographs and what look to be Kamila’s A+ test papers. What most captures his attention, though, is a particular picture---not a photograph, but a painting---that is a near-perfect depiction of Alma’s likeness.

“Amazing, isn’t it? Jowd painted that himself.”

Alma’s voice in his ear makes Yomiel jolt, and he suddenly realizes he’s been staring. Smiling sheepishly, he grabs the filled glass that’s proffered to him and takes an appreciative sip.

“Your husband seems quite skilled.” Not that Yomiel is surprised. To make sure that Jowd was truly and properly suffering, he used to ghost into the prison to check in on him, so Yomiel already knew that the detective had become quite an artist. Even back when he was bitter and vengeful, Yomiel was always reluctantly impressed with how accurately Jowd was able to represent faces.

“Oh, he is! And would you believe, he actually tried to hide that from me.” Alma laughs, the noise tinkling and almost bell-like. “I mean, he was always so dedicated to detective work. I never had a clue he had any interest in art until I caught him holed up in the attic with with a stash of painting supplies.”

Yomiel has a feeling he knows exactly why Jowd tried to hide it, but Alma seems so amused at the memory that he actually finds himself grinning too. “Unbelievable. Meanwhile, I wish my portraits would turn out this good.”

“Oh!” Alma visibly brightens. “You paint too?”

“Uhhh. Yeah, well...” Yomiel awkwardly scratches the back of his head. “They didn’t really allow me to mess with computers in prison, so I needed to pick up a new hobby.”

To Alma’s credit, she takes that news rather gracefully. She gives a small, apologetic smile, then claps her hands together, effortlessly lightening the mood up again. “Well, why don’t you ask Jowd for some tips then? Maybe you two could learn from each other.”

Yomiel doubts Jowd would be up for it, for various different reasons that Alma could not possibly be privy to. Regardless, he nods.

“I’ll think about it.”

Hey, Detective Jowd. After we finish eating, you should show Yomiel your art studio.

The telepathic suggestion comes in the middle of dinner with absolutely no warning, and Jowd rather noticeably chokes on his bite of chicken, a sharp inhale followed by a couple of deep coughs. At his side, Kamila gasps in concern and reaches over to pound fists into her dad’s back until he waves her away with a hurried “I’m alright. It’s what I get for eating so fast.”

Kamila nods her understanding. Across the table, Alma laughs.

Jowd hisses mentally, Sissel, why would you even mention that?

You know how Yomiel paints, too? Alma said earlier that you two might be able to learn from each other.

Yomiel blinks in surprise before finally chipping in on this three-way call. You were listening in?

I was literally your glass. Sissel seems far too amused by that. You didn’t even notice.

Yomiel shakes his head, glancing around. In the corner of the kitchen, Sissel’s body lies curled up and motionless by his food bowl---he’s not in it, obviously, since he’s facilitating this soundless conversation. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem as if Alma or Kamila have noticed that anything’s off: Kamila is busy playing with the peas on her plate, and Alma is busy chiding her for doing so.

No offense, Yomiel, Jowd cuts into his thoughts, but my studio is mine. I don’t even let Alma up there most of the time.

None taken, Yomiel replies. I wasn’t expecting anything in the first place.

Sissel telepathically groans.

Jowd furrows his brow. How did you get onto that topic with Alma anyways?

Your painting on the fridge caught my attention. Yomiel points his fork vaguely at the Alma portrait. It’s fantastic, by the way.

That manages to draw a slight smirk from Jowd. Thank you, I suppose. I honestly don’t consider that one of my better portraits, but Alma insisted on displaying it, she liked it so much.

Yeah, that painting is nothing, Sissel chimes in. You should see the ones in his portfolio!

Jowd sputters again, this time on his soup, and Yomiel quirks a brow. Apparently, the detective is just generally uncomfortable with any mention of his art.

“Dad, are you okay?” Kamila pipes up from her end of the table. On her other side, Alma now looks somewhat concerned too, but she merely purses her lip and says nothing.

“Fine, sweetheart,” Jowd assures, patting Kamila’s shoulder. His eyes flicker to her empty plate, proof that the brave girl was finally able to force down her peas. “Are you finished?”

Kamila nods.

“Alright then, you go up and finish your homework now.”

“Okay!” Kamila jumps down from her chair and dashes for the stairs, waving a cheery goodbye to Yomiel as she does. Yomiel waves back halfheartedly; the kid doesn’t even know who Yomiel is, all she was told was that he’s her father’s guest. She doesn’t know, so when she smiles at Yomiel, it’s far brighter than he deserves.

With Kamila gone, the dining room goes quiet. For a while, there are no discussions, either outward or inward.

...So, Detective Jowd---

Fine, okay! If you’ll stop bugging me, I’ll take Yomiel up to the studio. Happy?

Very, Sissel announces smugly, the cat that got the cream.

Yomiel can’t help it. He snorts into his own soup.

The art studio is in the attic: a bit dusty, but decently spacious, and clearly well stocked with paints and brushes. Large canvases lie stacked up against the corner near an easel, and a wooden desk with a tabletop smeared in color stands in the center of the room. Sissel hops up onto the desk and, after some telepathic needling, manages to cajole Jowd into yanking open one of the desk’s drawers and retrieving a manila folder.

“Here,” Jowd sighs, handing it to Yomiel. ”Knock yourself out.”

Yomiel takes a seat on the stool to do just that, and as he slowly makes his way through the file, he becomes only increasingly impressed. The portraits don’t stop with Jowd’s wife and daughter. There are coworkers, too: police officers and detectives, some of whom Yomiel actually recognizes. There are others who Yomiel has no idea who they are, who might not even be actual people in real life, but who still seem so incredibly lifelike on the canvas...

Yomiel pauses when he comes across a portrait of himself.

Surprised, he whirls his gaze up towards Jowd, who seems rather alarmed himself. Jowd’s eyes are wide, as if he’d forgotten that painting was even there.

“...I don’t know why I painted that,” Jowd says, voice quiet, almost weak even, and they continue staring at each other until Jowd finally breaks it off by slumping back against the desk. Tension visibly drains from his form---tension that he hid well but that Yomiel can now see has been there all evening---and only now that he’s safely away from his wife and daughter does Jowd finally allow his mask of smiles to come crumbling down. “Gods, I don’t know why I’m still painting at all.”

Sissel casually flicks his tail. You said you started because you never wanted to forget the faces of the people who mattered to you.

“Yes,” Jowd says, “but now I get to see the people who matter to me every day. And some of those other faces I’ve been painting are just random people on the street who I’ve never even met.” He brings a hand up to rest his forehead in his palm. “I have no real reason to paint anyone anymore.”

“But you couldn’t stop.” Yomiel doesn’t mean it as a question.

Jowd simply nods. “It felt wrong. And the longer I went without painting, the more wrong it felt, and I couldn’t shake it until I started again.”

Jowd haggardly runs his fingers through his beard, actually looking kinda messed up. Yomiel guesses he must have needed to let this out for a while.

“Well, it’s the kind of thing that if you do it long enough, it just becomes a part of you.” Yomiel shrugs. “Ever since I started painting, I’ve actually started to really care about getting better at it.”

Jowd quirks his brow with what looks like interest, so Yomiel picks up the portrait of himself to brandish it in his hands.

“That said, seriously, I have to know. How are your faces so perfect?” Yomiel points frantically to his own likeness on the page. “I can never get the composition and detail to look this right.”

Jowd chuckles, his shoulders relaxing. “I don’t do anything special, really. I’m just good with faces. Comes with being a detective.”

Yomiel lets out a groan. “Ugh, and I’ve even been doing it longer than you! Ten years, and I still can’t manage to paint a decent portrait.”

Sissel licks at his own paws. I dunno. I liked that last painting I saw you working on in your cell.

The one of Sissel perched up on a bridge, his form shadowed against the backdrop of the moon and the city lights. “Well yeah, but that was more like a landscape painting,” Yomiel scoffs. “Those are the only ones I’m good at. It’s so much easier to work with depth perception and color than with physical features.”

“Really?” Jowd actually sounds vaguely impressed. “Honestly, I couldn’t do landscapes if my life depended on it. Headshots, great, but the minute you want me to paint anything that’s not a face, I’m out.” He gestures to the portfolio in Yomiel’s lap. “There’s a reason none of those have backgrounds.”

Duly noted, Yomiel thinks, and in the back of his mind, he can feel Sissel perking up.

Yomiel, bring some of your landscapes with you next time! Then you two can keep talking about all this painting stuff and trade tips.

Jowd frowns. “Sissel, I don’t know if that---”

Besides, Sissel continues unheeded, Yomiel needs a reason to come back here again. Alma’s not going to believe he came here to make amends a second time, but the art thing was her idea in the first place. She’ll buy it.

He’s got a point, Yomiel can’t help but agree, and grins sheepishly when Jowd levels him with a miffed glare.

Eventually though, Jowd sighs.

“Fine then,” he concedes, glancing over to Yomiel. “I’m free Saturday at three. Does that work for you?”

Yomiel is going to be free for a good while yet, at least until he manages to do something about his current state of unemployment, so he nods. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Up on the tabletop, Sissel stretches victoriously.

After a few initial meetings, they settle into a comfortable pattern.

Jowd teaches Yomiel how to sketch lines and visualize shapes to form accurate faces. Yomiel teaches Jowd how to mix colors and paint in layers to create a realistic sense of depth. They print out photographs of landscapes and faces to use as references, then they each sit on opposite sides of the desk to paint the hours away in companionable silence.

(And Sissel, curled up comfortably in the space between both his treasured owners, is perfectly content.)

[hgfstreamchats]

Atlantis

*flop* Night human, hello! Hello I'm just beat I know the feeling. ...And it might be impeccable timing! Looks like the site is down. Awwwww, no We could... watch a movie instead? Did I somehow manage not to miss anything? A movie sounds excellent. Any suggestions? Hmmmmmmmmmmm let me check my list How about... Atlantis? Works for me! I have no objection.

Apparently we are watching Jeepers Creepers, and we are going to like it. Hmmm. Hmm, it's opening just fine in another tab. Here, try this instead https://www.watchcartoononline.io/atlantis-the-lost-empire

Atlantis: The Lost Empire | Watch cartoons online, Watch anime online, English dub anime Watch Atlantis: The Lost Empire online free with HQ / high quailty. Stream movie Atlantis: The Lost Empire.A large tidal wave triggered by a distant explosion threatens

watchcartoononline.io

Oh, watchcartoononline, why don't I ever refer to you first? Just, uh, ignore the ads. I forget they're there, having blocked the hell out of them long ago There we go! Beautiful! The end. That is not really a warning. hello! Hello! Whoop, glowy eyes of foreboding! And then they drowned. Shoosh. Uranium! Either that, or we forgot another relic on Earth. Earth is like a gosh-darn magnet for anything you carelessly shoot into space for some reason It may be due to Unicron being the core. He attracts chaos. Is that a shrine probably Oh my gosh Oh my gosh he's like Linguistics Mulder He does not realize this is always a setup to being murdered. At least he's being delightful about sending Milo off to almost-certain doom They really go all out on every facial expression. They do! I do not trust this weird human. omg kity This little human's adorable. Does he have a match in his mouth Hello main villain, probably That's not a trustworthy chin. No indeed. Exactly. Why was he crossing his digits behind his back? Oh my god what .... Apparently Milo's body belongs to the crew and they'd like to make that clear right off the bat. It's like everyone on this ship stopped giving even a single shit. Serpents do not have limbs. Not with THAT attitude, they don't She taunted Murphy. Well, that man is dead. And now they all die. oh, yeah, this movie has an incredible body count Excellent. Fun! This thing sure is... crabby. Good to get the cannon fodder out of the way early. That way no one misses them. yeah, it's really put them in a pinch Something something... shell? How fortunate they are that the air is still breathable down there. That's nothing, don't you remember Treasure Planet Treasure Planet had 'space technology' as a cheat. hahahha Awwww. dude, ASK qué es esto Wheeljack! Red! Hello, hello same ... Fireflies. Of course. Uh Oh What about, uh Their explosives And then they died. Heh. i like this guy Well Convenient power in the short term, but overuse will give you cancer. uhhh Shhh, shhh, that's definitely how language works. The surface dwellers also introduce new viruses into the local population. why is that human magnus Called it We don't trust his chin. I'm pretty sure that's going to turn out to be an enormous slur on Magnus GOOD Peaceful explorers, with lots of explosives I do not like the king's voice. Does this story really require the little ratman? heh. that's a man???? Who wouldn't want a story with a bizarre earth-fetishist rat-man Without the ratman, who else would grind in the obnoxiousness? i feel like my boy the explosives guy could give us everything beepbeep How does the linguist fail at pronouncing a name given to him? i think humans have a tongue swelling thing when they see someone pretty Less Ratman and Dr. Touches, more explosive human. more explosions general bring on the booms A convenient history of Atlantis. And then he died of the bends. Tragic. Shoosh, the bends don't exist, just like there's magically fresh air down here oh frag Whoop damn Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal, Magnus. Indeed I'm tellin' ya, the mech's gonna turn OH a BIG STATUE Or maybe, uh literally in his head His eyes DO look kinda crystally yeah so do mine Well, that looks safe ...Oh. It's because he looked This is probably not a good sign. Ohhhhhh my This is probably fine. Huh. It was fine. ALSO probably fine W What flowers why Smoke up what air they have left. That's helpful. Nobody we knew I love explosives human. How are they planning on getting back to the surface? OH HEY Oh great there goes alpha trion He sounds like Sentinel. I dislike it. He got that story out pretty smoothly for someone half a minute from death. He died on purpose, to get out of dealing with this mess. explosives guy is high all day every day Truly your spirit human. i love him They just so happened to bring tiny planes with them. Just in case. apparently! You never know when you're going to need tiny planes under the ocean. HA ohhh brutal How is she alive after that She did not survive that fall. damn magnus hahahaah his face oh scrap hahahah wow Nice wow Here comes Magnus! now magnus can't talk scrap about me bein' on crystals Hah! And they flood Atlantis with lava. Perfect. Well then They have known each other for about two hours. But it felt like three. ha GIVE HIM A HUG. Now wash that hand. That hand will never be clean. oof seaspray used to crack my spinal strut over his leg if i whined about it enough Nice. "But we WON'T say that, because it's SECRET" how did humans put magnus and me in this so well Dumb luck. There's apparently an awful sequel. technically it's actually three episodes to a tv show that got canned before it made it to air, and they thought they'd flog it direct to video Can we go about our lives, without suffering through the awful sequel? technically it's actually three episodes to a tv show that got canned before it made it to air, and they thought they'd flog it direct to video Can we go about our lives, without suffering through the awful sequel? Or will knowing it is out there haunt us relentlessly? uho h I'm up for it if you folks are. Welllllllll... Sure, I have not been tormented enough. Sure, why not watch something to viciously mock It probably is not worse than the pig sequels. Nothing could be worse than the pig sequels. Gotta run, Red. Thanks for the party Always a pleasure! See you! Behold! Atlantis on a tenth of the budget And then they died. Remember those beautiful shots from the first movie? None of that here! Lava whales. Lava whales. Of course. So it heals rock, too? I should know better than to ask why, and yet, it is the only question. Wasn't that thing... bigger? You probably aren't. Oh, it's crying His rock looks upset at what his city has become. their smiles look unnatural She looks weird OH JOY. A PET MASCOT The lava tubes. And a giant crab. No. Not allowed. Ew. I hate their relationship. All the food is just, like. Bowls of dyed pasta. You live in Atlantis, you eat noodles. Forever. Oh, Kida, what have they done to you? That's ridiculous They live UNDER THE OCEAN Surely they're familiar with, like, swimming, floating, drowning Yes, make sure you bring the animal with you. Where would they be without their mascot Perhaps less drowning. The real kraken is that grim faced weirdo. Gettin' a little Shadow Over Innsmouth here ewwww, don't touch it t's like watching animatronics Why do they even have an inn if they hate visitors so much what's with her FACE . . . She cannot actually focus on anyone. Will-o-wisps? Heh Rat-man's grimace will follow you to your dreams I despise everything about Rat-man. W...what Maybe he just has one of the magic life-extending crystals I hate that Rat-man is contributing more than he ever did in the good movie. He should never move the plot forward. and yet, he is "Ha, now you can't complain that he's useless!" I will complain regardless. Kray-ken. It like... patted him gosh, maybe he's not the one in charge here I never thought a story about a tentacle monster could be so unappealing. Stop moving the plot forward, Rat-man! How dare he contribute? And they crush their friend with roof debris. Gasp. Uh... ... Ominous. I thought there was going to be a twist where it was a tiny tentacle monster they do not get paid enough for this Also I feel like nothing was really... explained Of course it wasn't. Milo who showed up three weeks ago knows more than her, of course. Are they just planning on investigating nonsense around the world? Why not use the magic healing crysta on him Too much work. gosh it's ALMOST like the coyotes are MADE OF SAND, animated by some magic force Jinkies! ... This bit is older than I am. Oh, Kida... So there's no theft in Atlantis, huh Had not been invented yet. Well, HE'S evil Because you know the writers of this nonsense wanted to be timeline accurate. Him? No! Every problem is going to have a spooky old man. I keep expecting to see Wile E Coyote and the roadrunner in this landscape This seems offensive to someone. You think? I can't get past how weird everyone looks I mean, Rat-man took a lateral move, but still Gosh, who's surprised Wait, did Rat-man just contribute to the plot again More than old man Kakashi. Because surely he won't just go to the cave and steal everything. Rat-man's carrying the plot and I'm not okay with that. ... oh wow. He's the most important character in this story It's, like, all about his dirt-eating Oh so it's a big museum The adventures of Rat-man and friends. wow his voice will just never stop cracking, will it Stop touching each other. And then he killed them. WOW who would have GUESSED Of course we have to have silly implausible knockout gas. Why even bother tying them up? Just kill them while they are unconscious. Likes gloating? Please, please kill them while they're unconscious. I don't like Milo's little pantaloons or shapely calves. Someone had to draw them. Guess SOMEbody's about to get sandblasted But for the pot they broke, they must die. Don't do it, Kakashi! Tell me your secret. "well if I told you it wouldn't be a secret, would it" "We love you, old man Jicama." ... Did Odin broke into his house. Did Odin break into this guy's I mean I sthis where theis is going What even is this premise? I mean I guess he can have it None of this could have less to do with anything. Oh dude you are WAY off they wanted to do a multi-season tv show like this ...Or, uh. Maybe not Then he is simply an insane man who is good at training birds. Dead. Pffffff . . . . . . . "The cum filling?" ...What I also heard that. And again, ratman is essential to the plot. ....Ewwwwww, he dressed her I think he is very confused abou this mythos, also I feel concussed. ...Did anyone else just see the explosives human disassociate out of his body? They've all been doing that The image bleed has been very prevalent. I haven't seen it get quite as bad as that. Uh... huh. So they're like boiling the ocean That's a little grim Rest in peace, fishermen. Or not. Rejoin the world, just in time to participate in a World War. Excellent plan. Wait there's a child? And contract polio. Was she like born DURING the thousands of years under the sea? Not quite as bad as the pig sequel, but still too reliant on the ratman. well that was... underwhelming That was wretched. I'm on the cusp of powering down, but thank you all for coming and enduring this. Thank you for hosting this terrible assortment of bad ideas. Well. It's what I do! Good night! Thanks for the stream. Good night! Good night! Thanks for the stream. Good night! Thank *you* for the movie suggestion, night human!

[f4liveblogarchives]

Fantastic Four Vol. 1 #96

Sun March 18 2018 [00:41] <Zarek> .eciN [00:42] <Duraz> palc flog [00:43] <@Wackd> Sue has got the "unintentionally filling your child's head with horrible misconceptions about what affection looks like that will likely damage them later in life" part of parenting down pat.

[00:44 ] <@Wackd> Also if you, like me, missed the actual text on that book and just saw the big beefy guy in underwear, you get a VERY different impression of what the Yancy Street Gang is trying to tell Ben with that book. [00:44] <maxwellelvis> Be glad it's just the Yancys she's talking about, and not something worse. [00:44 ] <maxwellelvis> What makes you think the Yancys weren't also saying that? [00:46] <@Wackd> "How come they never ask ME to pose for these pictures?" hey actually did we get a ben cover the ONE time marvel did male swimsuit covers [00:46 ] <@Wackd> asking for a friend [00:49] <Bocaj> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/e2/01/e9/e201e9848bd5f21f957b3007a2800e1e.jpg Answering for a friend [00:49] <@Wackd> It will never stop being amusing to me that, besides the whole android thing, the Mad Thinker's main gimmick is using science as precognition, and expressing it in ways that make one suspect some writer has at some point given him OCD.

[00:49] <Duraz> http://www.littlestuffedbull.com/images/comics/365bengrimm/bengrimm1120.jpg [00:49] <maxwellelvis> How is it that that first one has him wearing MORE clothing than he usually does? [00:50] <@Wackd> thank you both, my friend is very happy [00:50] <maxwellelvis> So he's like if Mr. Monk became evil? [00:51] <@Wackd> Nah, Thinker's not so much for cleanliness, I don't think. But he's VERY exacting about WHEN shit has to be done. [00:51] <maxwellelvis> Oh right, Mr. Monk's thing was cleanliness. [00:52] <@Wackd> It's weird that a guy so obsessed with time doesn't know what seconds are.

[00:52] <Zarek> Wait, hang on, why would anyone ambush the Human Torch with an ice ray? He's...FIRE. [00:53] <maxwellelvis> Suppression, I guess. [00:53] <@Wackd> I mean look. The usual methods of defeating the Human Torch are asbestos, sand, and spinning him around really fast. [00:53] <Bocaj> not water? [00:53] <Zarek> Has no one considered WATER? [00:54] <Zarek> Like liquid water though [00:54] <Zarek> Jinx [00:54] <maxwellelvis> Reed can make him immune to water. [00:54] <Zarek> But not SAND? [00:54] <Bocaj> what a bafflement [00:54] <@Wackd> I think he's been doused a couple of times? It's usually by accident. [00:54] <maxwellelvis> Water isn't usually a bad guy element. [00:54] <maxwellelvis> Unless the hero is also a water guy. [00:55] <@Wackd> ME: I wish we could see what some of Sue's interests are, independent from her relationships. [00:55] <@Wackd> THE MONKEY PAW IN STAN LEE'S DESK DRAWER: *curls a finger* 

[00:56] <Zarek> "husband mine", said no human ever [00:56] <Zarek> "husband of mine", sure. [00:56] <maxwellelvis> "Brother 'o' mine" if you're Greg. [00:56] <@Wackd> reed is an underground explosive and only sue knows the truth [00:57] <Zarek> Gotta go down to the husband mine and mine for some husbands. Gotta put the pickaxe to the stone and make it rain men. [00:57] <maxwellelvis> Workin' in a husband mine, goin' down down down [00:57] <maxwellelvis> WAIT! [00:57] <Zarek> Also: Sue confirmed for Ferengi [00:58] <@Wackd> To give you some idea of how wonderfully absurd the Mad Thinker's shtick is, he had the Sue android attack real Sue in a crowded, public place, because he knew that the moment the android attacked every other shopper would be facing away from Sue.

[00:58] <maxwellelvis> Can't be, Zarek. She has clothes. [00:59] <Zarek> To be clear, he only knows this because he thinks real good? [00:59] <@Wackd> Yes. [01:00] <Zarek> Perfect. [01:00] <@Wackd> He has no supernatural powers beyond incredible intelligence. [01:00] <maxwellelvis> His Stand, [Rock Around The Clock], allows him to predict the actions of an opponent down to the second. [01:00] <Zarek> *Morgan Freeman voice* what if you could use more than 10% of your brain [01:01] <@Wackd> SO! The Reed android ambushes Reed in an alley and then...leaves him there. To be picked up later. [01:02] <maxwellelvis> "Damnit, not again! Wait a minute... One... two... this is serious." [01:02] <@Wackd> Normally, that'd be fine, like. The android is alone and unaccompanied, not a lot of options. [01:02] <@Wackd> Except...Reed...has a car? He was literally pulled out of his car? [01:03] <@Wackd> You could just shove Reed in the trunk and steal the car. [01:03] <@Wackd> Mad Thinker would know Reed would have a car, surely. [01:03] <@Wackd> ACTUALLY HOLD ON WAIT A SECOND [01:04] <@Wackd> Anyone notice something...odd...about this page? Look closely at the fourth panel. 

[01:05] <@Wackd> Is it just me, or does it look like the Reed being ambushed is being pulled into the car, rather than attacking the car? [01:06] <@Wackd> But that doesn't check out, because it'd make the Reed in the car--the REAL Reed--the aggressor. [01:08] <Zarek> Maybe one of those disagreements between Lee and Kirby? [01:08] <maxwellelvis> I think that's supposed to be the other side of the street? [01:08] <@Wackd> If the real Reed won this encounter, it'd make a bit more sense to just leave the destroyed robot lying around, and prioritize getting home and seeing if this has happened to the other three. 

[01:09] <maxwellelvis> Have the other androids used contractions? [01:09] <@Wackd> max: The action lines are coming from inside the car, though. It's the same car. And we know the real Reed is inside of it. [01:09] <maxwellelvis> Huh. [01:10] <@Wackd> The Johnny android used contractions. [01:10] <maxwellelvis> Also, serious question, have the other androids been using contractions before this point? [01:10] <maxwellelvis> Huh [01:10] <maxwellelvis> That blows my theory out then. [01:11] <maxwellelvis> Because otherwise I'd be convinced that Stan at least is doing the Lore trick. [01:11] <@Wackd> Holy shit. This comic had a plot twist that could actually be called in advance based on given information rather than assumption of narrative structure.

[01:12] <maxwellelvis> Oh hey, I was right! [01:12] <maxwellelvis> THAT's why I asked about contractions. [01:12] <@Wackd> I mean, I like half suspect it happened by accident, but. [01:13] <maxwellelvis> I mean, the panels and script both are vague about showing what happened with that attack. [01:14] <maxwellelvis> I think what that one panel is trying to go for is, the android attacks Reed and he pushes himself out the other window to try and shake it off him, but somewhere along the way some wires got crossed. [01:14] <@Wackd> This is a weird thing about Mad Thinker stories--the Thinker is always brought low by a supposed inability to account for his opponents' reactions, even though he always predicts those reactions perfectly until he doesn't. 

[01:14] <maxwellelvis> And I remembered Lore, and wasn't there an episode of Star Trek where Lore takes Data's place and we aren't privy to this unless we can spot that he's suddenly using contractions? [01:15] <@Wackd> Like, why was he able to build robots that can defeat Sue, Johnny, and Ben, but not Reed? Is it because Reed is a trickier opponent? If so, why can he still otherwise predict Reed's actions near perfectly? Is it because Reed got lucky? If so, why couldn't any of the other four? [01:16] <@Wackd> The simple narrative answer is that the Thinker has to fuck up SOMEWHERE to be beaten. But in-universe, it creates this weird inconsistent limit to the Thinker's abilities. [01:16] <maxwellelvis> Clearly the Mad Thinker's error was attacking Reed while he was coming home from his Brazilian Jiujitsu class. [01:17] <Zarek> If they wanted to do that right, ideally there should be some factor the Thinker intentionally ignores as a possibility that the characters unpredictably go against their typical characterization to utilize. [01:17] <Zarek> Which you could use to tie into a bunch of stuff about character development and message, if you wanted to. [01:18] <@Wackd> One story, I think, had him ignore the possibility of emotion-driven reactions. He assumes everyone will do the "logical" thing. [01:19] <@Wackd> Which comes close to being a decent idea, insofar as you can turn it into a sort of narcissism-as-Achille's-heal. If he assumes his opponents will all act logically, but assumes he will beat them, his plans are all ultimately built on the idea that his opponents are either less smart than him or going to act against their best interest. [01:20] <@Wackd> The broader problem of course is that the line between logical and emotional action is basically non-existent. You can rationalize anything, and most people do. [01:20] <Bocaj> The Mad Thinker once came after the Avengers [01:20] <Bocaj> Because I guess he was tired of the FF kicking his ass [01:20] <maxwellelvis> While he was in jail, right? [01:20] <Bocaj> And the thing he didn't account for was Hercules randomly coming in the front door [01:21] <@Wackd> Oh yeah! He was mentioned in being in jail a few issues back. Now he is not in jail. [01:21] <Bocaj> Which he later bemoaned as accounting for the human factor but not the god factor [01:21] <Zarek> This is barely relevant but that's something that always bugged me about my philosophy class -- the teacher always seemed to define "logical" as "conclusion that can be reached by logic that prioritizes the interests of the self" [01:21] <Bocaj> Also in that story we learned that any suit is a tearaway suit when Hercules is wearing it [01:21] <@Wackd> I was expecting a note from Stan with, like, "See Avengers number whatever for why the Mad Thinker is not in jail anymore". [01:21] <@Wackd> But there wasn't one. [01:21] <@Wackd> He's just...no longer in jail. [01:21] <Zarek> He thought his way out [01:22] <maxwellelvis> Bocaj: It's like in the Yakuza games, where you can just grab the side of your sportcoat and just rip off your entire top, shirt, sportcoat, and all, in one motion. [01:22] <Bocaj> Yes [01:22] <@Wackd> I wonder why he's here, attacking the Fantastic Four, and not attacking the Wingless Wizard for forgetting to feed and water his androids while he was locked up. [01:23] <maxwellelvis> He tried to, but Wizard was a nervous wreck, screaming something about an old lady and a haunted house, I bet. [01:23] <@Wackd> (Did we ever get a REAL explanation for why the Wizard's glove summons the Thinker's androids, or am I going to have to stick with this headcanon? I hope it's the latter.) [01:24] <Zarek> They share custody [01:24] <maxwellelvis> I really have a headcanon now that the Wizard spent all the time between FF 94 and his next appearance a gibbering wreck after what Agatha does to him. [01:25] <@Wackd> Or she could be trying to keep him from fetching some sort of advantage. Or calling for reinforcements. Or trying to just attack you in general.

[01:25] <@Wackd> At the end of the day, Reed and Thinker have the same superpower, which is making baseless assumptions that turn out to be right because the story needs them to be. [01:26] <maxwellelvis> Susan Storm! In the Lounge! With the Candlestick! [01:26] <Bocaj> the most super superpower of all [01:26] <@Wackd> Reed's just less anal about it. [01:28 ...why didn't the Thinker just give this pistol to the Johnny robot that attacked Ben at the top of the issue?

[01:29] <maxwellelvis> And leave himself unarmed? [01:29] <@Wackd> Why didn't be build two of them? [01:29 So anyway, Reed successfully disarms Thinker and Ben finishes off the robots. [01:30] <Zarek> You don't know what resources his inventions take. Maybe he didn't have enough Thing-killing-gun ingredients to make another Thing-killing-gun [01:31] <@Wackd> Fair, I suppose. [01:32] <@Wackd> So Reed deduces that the Thinker couldn't have gotten into the apartment without tripping alarms, and concludes that he...uh...built a secret elevator into their apartment while they were away during the last Dr. Doom arc. [01:32] <@Wackd> Because that's a thing you can do with no one noticing and definitely without tripping any alarms. [01:32] <maxwellelvis> Surely Willy would say something. [01:33] <@Wackd> He'd wiggle his ears at him. [01:33] <Bocaj> I had thought construction was actually something that was intrusive and inconvenient but apparently not [01:38] <@Wackd> I do wanna point out that I checked and we've not seen Willie Lumpkin since issue 15. [01:39] <maxwellelvis> Huh [01:41] <maxwellelvis> He came from a comic strip for newspapers that Lee wrote and Dan DeCarlo illustrated. [01:41] <maxwellelvis> Here's what Willie looked like https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/3/3f/Lumpkin.gif [01:43] <@Wackd> Oh, only two pages left. Okay. [01:43] <@Wackd> So, they discover that the Thinker has a buncha android minions hidden in the basement, as well as Sue and Johnny's unconscious bodies. [01:44] <@Wackd> Ben throws the Thinker at his minions, dispatching them, and then Reed wakes Sue up with a kiss. The end.