Imagine Sydney getting offered her own restaurant and she can have her dream spot and be in full control by a poacher because they want to work with her. The poacher sees all the great work that’s went into the Bear and they head about the dishes she’s made and they want Sydney, and Carmy hears about it.

Carmy and Sydney have that argument that is obviously being built up too and by the end it completely mirrors the “Sydney quitting scene”. Carmy is just angry that Sydney was going to walk out on him and all the work they’ve put in. (It’s shown in the freezer scene that the memory of Sydney quitting enrages him, if you look at the montage). So when he hears the inside scoop from someone else that Sydney is leaving, his eyes go bloodshot.

He ends up saying crazy shit like “If you want to leave, leave. I don’t need you. Just leave.”

And Sydney is confused (to mirror Carmy in the quitting scene) like “What? What? Leave?”

And Carmy is just doubling down and spiraling like Mikey, refusing to let her in, pushing her out. “Just leave, I don’t want you here. So go.”

And Sydney just looks so heartbroken as she collects her things but the silence is palpable. And Carmy is fuming and refuses to look at her like the last time. Later, he runs into the poacher/inside scoop person/whomever.

And they’re like “It’s wild how people work.”

And Carmy is quiet but refuses to acknowledge that he regrets what he said. And says something along the lines of “Sydney got what she wanted. Good for her.”

And the person is just like “such a shame though.”

“What’s a shame?”

“That she turned it down.”

“What?”

“Yeah, she said she didn’t want to leave. That she didn’t want the offer.”

And the whole world just collapses on Carmy because he realizes what he did and what he said to her.

I KNOW ITS ANGST! I know! Fic writers, is this something?

Top down processing example

Working in machine vision must be fascinating. However, whenever one particular interpretation is selected, the others are suppressed to avoid conflicting interpretations of a visual scene. Since more than one interpretation is possible, your brain alternates between them. It would seem that your brain takes the visual information provided about the cube's edges and then tries to fit an interpretation on it. At no point, though, can both orientations be held in one's head at once (at least, I cannot manage to do that). However, after staring at the cube for a few moments, they can cause it to 'flip' into the other orientation. It is ambiguous, though, whether it is intended to be in one of two possible orientations: are you looking slightly down onto the cube, or slightly up at it (in other words, are the bottom two corners corners on the front or back face of the cube)? For most people, there is a default orientation when they first see it. This simple drawing forms a three dimensional clear cube. When it does, it is sitting in your blind spot, and your brain fills in that area with it's best guess (in this case, blank white paper).Īnother example that occurs slightly higher up in your visual processing is the Necker Cube, shown here. At a certain point, the X on the periphery of your vision should disappear. Hold the paper about half an arm's length in front of you and gradually move it closer. Then close one of your eyes and stare at the opposite mark with your open eye (for example, if you closed your left eye, look at the left X with your right eye). A quick way to demonstrate this is to take a piece of scrap paper and put two X's on it about eight centimeters apart. You do not realise this, though, because your brian manages to fill in that area of your visual field with its best guess as to what is there. However, if you close one eye and keep your other eye locked on a specific target, your blind spot becomes anchored in place. Also, your eyes are almost constantly performing saccades (small jumps around to focus on different regions of the visual field). This is normally not a problem since the blindspot of each eye falls on a different area of your visual field, so the sensory perceptions of one eye can compensate for the other. In your retina you have a small area devoid of receptors where nerves and blood vessels enter and leave your eye. One example of top-down processing that is fairly easy to demonstrate is the blind spot. Effectively introducing top-down processing into artificial visual systems, however, is quite difficult, and it would seem that the top-down algorithms instituted by our brains (and their handy parallel architecture) are what keep us currently so far ahead of computers. What is fairly surprising, though, is top-down processing is also clearly involved in visual processing. Your brain clearly does some bottom-up processing, since you react to raw changes in the visual stimuli even if there was no reason to expect that change. Top-down processing means you start with an idea of what you ought to be seeing (most likely determined by recent sensory information, other sensory clues, and your past experience). Optical illusions and trick images are one relatively simple way to explore the way our brain processes visual information, and they are also fairly fun to look at.īottom-up processing basically means your brain reads in the raw visual information captured by the retina and gradually figures out what it means as one moves farther along the processing chain that is your cerebral cortex. As with most things (especially in psychology), neither one is entirely correct and your brain utilizes a combination of the two. One of the interesting debates in perception psychology and neuroscience is whether the brain performs bottom-up or top-down processing. It shouldn't be entirely surprising, though, that our visual system is as incredibly powerful as it is, since a huge proportion of our brain is utilized primarily for visual processing. One of the subjects I have written about before is machine vision and the incredible difficulty of developing a robust visual processing system that can equal the robustness of our own visual system.

'Act 1: Scene 5 and 6'

Tom Holland X Reader

Summary: When helping Tom run through some lines, you begin to notice some similarities between the characters in his new romance film and your own life. All of a sudden, you aren't acting anymore...

Themes: fluff, friends to lovers

w/c: 1.8K omg a short fic for once

a/n: this was completely unplanned. I had the thought in my head for so long so I just fired it out quickly in like two hours but hey ho here ya go. Also everything in this is completely and utterly made up. Tom sadly isn't doing romance films as of yet.........

☆MASTERLIST☆

“Oh good, you’re home.”

The voice of your best friend, Tom, echoes through the hollows of your house as he marches in, ignoring social etiquette and barging right in. He doesn’t even give you a minute to respond as a pile of paper is thrown quite precariously towards your face.

“Come right in, Tom. Make yourself at home!” You sarcastically mumble as you peel the papers away from your face. By the way its formatted and by the way Tom perches himself at the centre of the room, you can tell it’s a script that he evidently wants you to run through with him. Tom has a habit of asking you to be his temporary stage partner before the big deal, and don’t get yourself wrong, you don’t mind it, sometimes you even find yourself getting carried away with the scenes, but tonight you’re just not feeling it.

Particularly because you know what this script involves.

Tom’s acting career has branched out from the action thrillers he’s grown comfortable with to romantic dramas and he has every right to do so; he’s young, attractive and in his physical prime to play the love interest that audiences would be fawning for. So when he scored a major role in the highly anticipated adaptation of the most romantic novel out there, he couldn’t have been happier.

The plot of the film revolves around two protagonists: a young couple in their twenties struggling to find their roles in each others lives, detailing the intriguing and intimate chemistry shared between them despite their bumpy, unstable relationship. It’s a devious plan on the writer’s behalf intending to keep the audience questioning whether or not they will end up together. And spoiler alert: they do. The film’s story is an emotional roller-coaster; gripping and unpredictable and it was those little qualities that drew Tom to the role.

Not that you don’t commend Tom’s ambition for expanding his expertise because his talent deserves all the attention he gets, but there’s a little part of you that’s been forced to lay dormant for quite a few years now, that wishes you could just keep Tom to yourself. You dare say that your attraction to Tom is just as dramatic as the film he’s been cast to feature in. You really do admire him but he’s your best friend and has been for a long time, why the hell would you throw away something like that for the sake of the silly, little crush you have for him? He probably doesn’t even like you back. In fact, you know he doesn’t. It simply isn’t worth it.

Despite not quite feeling up to the task, you comply anyway. After all, you can’t refuse your willingness to help him.

“What scene?”

“Act 1, scene 5 and 6.”

You flip to the page and quickly run through the dialogue, realising it’s one of the many scenes that show the more argumentative side of the relationship. The two characters, Theo and Alexa, engage in a very heated and tense fight. In your peripheral you see Tom psyching himself up, conjuring anecdotes to foster his emotions for the scene. You stand parallel to him, script in hand before immediately falling into character. Tom gives his opening line.

‘I can’t believe you, Alexa. Is this some sort of a joke to you?’

‘Of course not! You have to understand I never meant-’

‘Cut the bullshit. You knowingly stood me up to be with that guy and he knew what he was doing too. You’re smart, Alexa but sometimes you’re just so fucking dense!’

‘If you just listen to me, then I can explain…’

‘Oh so now you want to communicate? You could’ve saved yourself the hassle by telling me you weren’t going to show, at least then I wouldn’t have made an absolute arse out of myself sitting in the restaurant bar alone for hours.’

Your eyes find Tom’s, stuck in the heat of the moment as his character. Fuck, he’s really good at this. It motivates you to match his efforts, embodying this character and really feeling her emotions.

‘I tried to contact you, Theo, I really tried. But I was too upset and Gavin was just trying to help me and before you start insulting him, he wanted me to be with you, he wanted me to go but I…’

‘But what?’

‘I was scared that I was about to make a mistake.’

Oh shit. Why do you feel yourself tearing up? It’s just a run-through, get yourself together. Your eyes remain glued to the script in front of you, waiting for Tom to deliver his line but there’s nothing but silence from him.

“Tom, it’s you,” you mumble but still he remains silent. You look up to him to find that he has a wide smirk on his face, the script completely abandoned by his side. You can’t imagine Theo’s character to be smiling right now, very unlikely and unfitting. So why is he smiling? “What?” You cautiously ask, but he shakes his head and gives a gentle laugh.

“Nothing, you’re just really invested in this aren’t you?” The comment perks your lips and a rose colour blushes your cheeks. You did always have a tendency to get too far into it.

“Shu’up. Right, go from my last line.” You lift your script a little higher to cover your blush and with a flick of a switch, you are Alexa again.

‘I was scared that I was about to make a mistake.’

‘So I’m a mistake now, am I?’ Tom takes a step closer.

‘No, not you! Look, this is new for us both. I was so scared of losing the friendship that we already have…’

You flip the page and surely to fucking god, this can’t be real. You have to cut yourself off before you read your next part because the irony is just unbelievable. How did you know that your love life is as dramatic as this film…

Tom whispering your name pulls you out from your daze, prompting you to continue. You swallow the thick lump in your throat before muttering words of apology. You say the next part, but this time when you deliver your words, the acting stops. The words so scarily fitting that you’re no longer channelling Alexa, this comes from you unbeknownst to Tom.

“I was so scared of losing the friendship that we already have and sacrificing it for love. What if things didn’t go right? What if we did go on this date and it turns out we don’t like each other? Or what if I found myself falling for you and you didn’t feel the same? I knew that if any of those things were to happen that we could never go back to the way things were and I didn’t want to lose that. That’s what I was scared of.”

Your voice wavers just as you deliver your last line, something about those words touching a little closer to base more so than before. Your heart skips a little when you realise that you kept your eyes on Tom through every word, a way for your subconscious to manifest your true feelings through fake words.

The paper trembles in your hand but you refuse to pull away because you know that this script is the only thing separating you and Tom, who now seems to be standing inches from you, not breathing a word. Breathing slightly heavier than before, your eyes read the words that Tom is supposed to be saying, unsure of whether he’s pausing for dramatic effect or whether there’s something else that’s stopping him.

Seconds pass and the quietness calls for you to investigate Tom’s silence. He isn’t looking at the script anymore, but at you. He reads the hopelessness in your eyes as easily as he reads the words on his script, like it was written out for him. And he realises something rather peculiar about the way you hesitated before you spoke, something about those words that made your body tense and voice wobble and he deliberates until the message reads loud and clear. Tom’s known you for the longest time and given his experience in acting, out of everyone, he would be the person to recognise the difference between playing pretend and reality. You’re a good actor, but not as good as you think you are.

“It’s your-”

His soft lips melt into yours, stealing your breath. You stand, frozen to the spot, while you wait for your brain to register what’s happening. Tom moulds his lips against yours, recoiling only to tilt his head and sink himself further into the taste of your lips when you fully submit to it, eyes closed and breathing faltering. As time seems to slow, so does his kiss and it gives you all the time you need to savour it, to feel his hand that inches closer to the nape of your neck, obliging himself to run his fingers through your hair. A quiet hum suddenly resonates from your throat when Tom delicately passes the tip of his tongue past your lips to tease the edge of yours, holding back from the passion that’s infecting him and contain the powerful urge to explore more. Because this is new to you both…

It’s the idyllic romantic kiss that is the pinnacle of what romance movies would spend 2 hours building up to, the kiss that everyone waits for at the end and the kiss that every woman fantasises about, and being as gentle as he is, you didn’t think it was possible for a kiss such as this to happen in real life.

Tom pulls away in slow motion, sinking back just momentarily to offer you a reassuring peck, relishing the intimacy until its final moments. The first thing he does is release a sigh of relief and it washes over the features on your face like a coolant to your burning cheeks. Being so unexpected, your blush continues to redden which prompts Tom to sweep a thumb over the highs of your cheeks. The buzz of your lips still lingers and you bite down on it to contain it for as long as you can.

“I don’t think that was in the script…”

“No,” he chuckles, warm and homely. “No it definitely wasn’t.”

“Then…why?”

“You went off-script too. Didn’t you realise that Alexa’s line is only two sentences long yet somehow you turned it into…like six?”

“I did? Sorry, I must’ve…must’ve got c-carried away,” you inwardly chuckle, eyes immediately averting. Lo and behold. He’s right. The line is a quarter of the speech you gave…

“You said it with such conviction, looking right into my eyes. I had to think that there was some truth in your improvisation.” You don’t respond because you know he’s discovered your biggest secret and you can’t bring yourself to confirm his suspicions. He lowers his head closer, eyes adamant to find yours as he searches for your line of sight. “Is there?”

Timidly you nod your head, movements small and embarrassed.

“Then you have nothing to worried about,” his words flow in a soft whisper through his smile. “Because I like you too.” Tom solidifies his words with yet another breathtaking kiss.

超高校級の英雄 V3: Danganstuck Classpects V3

Okay, okay. 

Enough waiting around; let’s get this up and ready to go.

These are obviously just my own opinions on things, and as such are very closely tied to my own personal interpretations of both the V3 characters and also of the classpects themselves. For clarity’s sake, I based the aspect rationalizations from the official lore here, and I used the MSPA wiki for direction with the classes.

Just as a quick note, I used some of the FTE info (which is debatable in its veracity) for some of the assignments. Sorry, gotta work with what I have to work with. Also, if anything is expanded on in Homestuck 2, I have no idea, as I haven’t read it (or the epilogues, for that matter).

Akamatsu Kaede Prince(ss) of Time Derse Dreamer The Land of Sharps and Flats

Going off the canon description of Time, it makes perfect sense for Akamatsu. She’s goal-oriented, wants to skip to the credits, and would rather take a leap of faith than wait things out. To say nothing of the strong associations between Time and music. I went with Prince for her as a class since it’s the destroyer class--Akamatsu very literally destroys both Amami and herself (and her goal of getting everyone out alive) thanks to her own impatience in wanting to stop the one responsible for the killing game. I had her sleep on Derse since she’s supposed to be a bit of a protag subversion in that she hatches a literal murder scheme. Her equivalent of the Beat Mesa is a big metronome. 

I also have an alt land name for her in The Land of Ninths and Eighths to reference the time signature of Claire de Lune (which is 9/8). 

Saihara Shuuichi Page of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Glass and Fingerprints

I considered making Saihara a Rage player at first given how the ultimate conflict is (supposedly going to be) solved in Chapter 6, but the description of Doom players as being commiseraters rather than healers really stuck out to me as appropriate for Saihara. Of all the characters in the game, he’s one of the few that doesn’t actually push anyone to heal, and his ultimate gambit in the 6th trial is to counteract the audience trying to self-medicate with catharsis at their expense. He takes a while to come into his own, which is the signature trait of the Page class, too. As a Doom player, he dreams on both moons, which for reasons I can’t quite articulate just clicks for me. The glass in his land name references not only magnifying glasses but also mirrors, since his is very much a journey of self-reflection.

Amami Rantarou Seer of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sails and Nail Polish

I really like what I came up with here for Amami. Breath is linked pretty strongly to his FTE reveals about how his desire to explore led his sisters to disappear into the ether (and changed his direction in life), and the angst he feels over wanting to reunite with his sisters hints at his trouble with bonds (the Breath inverse Blood’s territory). I incorporated the boat stuff into the theme with the idea of sailing for his world name, while the nail polish is for his sisters and that extra scene with Akamatsu. I went with Seer as the class since Amami Knows Things, and there’s that bit about Seers “having a strategy guide in their head” that I wanted to be a callback to the special map and the fact that he’s the Shogo Kawada of this operation. Prospit as the dream moon just felt right, so there it is.

Iruma Miu Thief of Space Prospit Dreamer The Land of Caulk and Nuts (and Frogs)

I don’t care if you have to have Frogs somewhere in the Space player’s land name, I will stand by that pun! So Space is all about creation and seeing the bigger picture, and to me that jived with how Iruma is an inventor. While Time is deeply linked to music on a conceptual level, Space is linked to nurturing, including growing plants, raising animals, and parenting. The Space and Motherhood parallels fit well with Iruma’s canon aspirations and goals. I went with Thief because Iruma is very much out for Number One, and wants to hog up all the creation ability for her own ends. Prospit dreamer because she’s the type.

Ouma Kokichi Bard of Heart Derse Dreamer The Land of Kings and Horses

There’s a lot you could do with Ouma, and I’m sure that plenty of people peg him as a Void player because of the lying. For me though, I read Ouma has being primarily concerned with his own identity, and how he’s perceived by others. Fractured senses of self are a Heart concept, after all, and it seems that Ouma likes trying on identities to see which one ultimately fits him best. I made him a Bard because they’re unpredictable and all about helping or hurting a session in random turns, but also because Ouma himself is allowing his own identity to be destroyed thanks to his paranoia and inability to let anyone get close to him. He dreams on Derse with all the other schemers, and I went with a name pun for the planet that can also function as a chess reference (ala his bandana and his 5d chess approach to life).

Kiibo Sylph of Mind Derse Dreamer The Land of Shells and Ghosts

Since Sylphs are healers, I wanted to have Kiibo in that role, since he’s usually trying very hard to smooth things over and fix problems. I went with Mind for him for a few reasons: one is that Kiibo’s self-identity is subsumed by his “inner voice” that later turns out to be audience suggestions, meaning that he’s healing things through the choices of others and doesn’t have as much of a Self as it were. Another reason is because I made Naegi a Mind player and Kiibo is clearly meant to be a bit of a callback to him (up to and including the fact that Naegi very much functions as an audience insert in the first game). I made Kiibo a Derse dreamer because he literally hears the whispers of the audience members telling him what to do. The land name was me having a little fun and poking at his aspect a bit.

Gokuhara Gonta Heir of Light Prospit Dreamer The Land of Pins and Wings

Light is all about knowledge, and Gonta has, while specific, quite a lot of knowledge. He likes learning, and is open to new information to re-evaluate what he knows. I made him an Heir since the speculation is that they are subsumed in their aspect, and Gonta is very passively knowledgable. He often offers helpful suggestions based on things he just happens to know, for instance, and what ultimately undoes him is Ouma showing him the “truth” of things, which Gonta doesn’t even think to question. He’s a Prospit dreamer who’s been awake for awhile, unwittingly watching the clouds for signs, and his land name is a reference to pinning butterflies into a collection.

Shinguuji Korekiyo Mage of Light Derse Dreamer The Land of Scrolls and Masks

Meanwhile, on the other end of knowledge for knowledge’s sake, we have the other scholar, Shinguuji. Unlike Gonta, he’s actively out there seeking knowledge, rather than being drawn to it, and his motives are undeniably selfish in nature, so I wanted him to be an active class (I’m assuming Mage is the active counterpart to Seer, shhh). Shinguuji uses his understanding of his field--humans--to progress his own goals and wants. He’s also smart enough to know what pieces of information to share and which to keep hidden behind a convenient zipper. Made him Derse because shemey as all hell, and I went with some general imagery for folklore for the land name.

Chabashira Tenko Knight of Breath Prospit Dreamer The Land of Sweat and Flipping

I think we can all agree that Chabashira is probably not a Derse dreamer. Meanwhile, I chose her aspect for a couple of reasons: first, because aikido is generally about evading attacks which strikes me as a windy kinda deal, even if Neo Aikido is a bit different; second, because her central conflict in the game is about learning to let go of a bond she desperately wants to forge with Yumeno (which, again, is a Blood-related matter); and third, because flipping somebody would create a gust of air movement and that image made me laugh. I went with Knight for Chabashira, since the most common interpretation of Knight is that it exploits its aspect, and I think that Chabashira is able to exploit the various currents of influence (especially in Chapter 3) to great success. I also think that she exploits The Breeze to nudge Yumeno’s path out of danger by taking her place in the kagonoko ritual. The land name is the sweat of training in martial arts, and the flipping is not just about said martial arts, but also about being flung off a see-saw.

Toujou Kirumi Knight of Life Derse Dreamer The Land of Sticks and Carrots

Life players are generally known to be trying to fix everybody’s problems, whether they want that to happen or not, and if that doesn’t scream Toujou to you, I don’t know what will. I went with Knight again for the exploitation aspect of it, where Toujou uses her position as authority in the group to further what she believes to be the greater good (hedging my bets here since we don’t know if Knight is active or passive). She’s clearly a Derse dreamer, because even if she wasn’t schemey, she’s droll as fuck. Her land references the two main ways to motivate someone: threats and rewards.

Harukawa Maki Knight of Time Prospit Dreamer The Land of Beans and Demons

I know, I know, but really, if you think about it, HaruMaki and Dave do kind of have a lot in common (and not just the fact that they have red eyes). The part about Time that fits well to me is that a Time player’s life is marked by strife and struggle, which HaruMaki has in spades. Like Akamatsu, she’s impatient and often acts rashly, in an attempt to cut out the middle man or advance what she thinks should be happening. She’s the last of our Knight squad, exploiting Time (or more broadly, destruction/entropy) to try and help out, such as trying to off Ouma or attack the Exisals head on. There’s also a bit on the Wiki that’s speculated that Knights often try to conceal their insecurities by acting tough, which is HaruMaki’s M.O. While she doesn’t have the music theme, assassination is very much about timing. I had her dream on Prospit because she’s not really a plans person, deep down, and her land name is a joke about her name/birthday referencing Setsubun.

HaruMaki doesn’t have a Beat Mesa equivalent, but she does have a tool specifically for causing a Scratch: a huge, unwieldy kantana.

Hoshi Ryouma Prince of Blood Prospit Dreamer The Land of Grass and Clay

Here you go, anon, what you were waiting for. I personally peg Hoshi as a Blood player, through and through. He’s stubborn, values bonds with other people, can lead via inspiration rather than direct command, and feels grounded. I think he’s a Prince thanks to the fact that he ended up destroying the very people who meant so much to him, and in the aftermath continued to push people away and pre-emptively destroy any possible future bonds. He’s a Prospit dreamer because he can see flashes of the future, though he often doesn’t read them correctly. His land is a reference to different types of tennis courts.

Momota Kaito Rouge of Hope Prospit Dreamer The Land of Wishes and Stars

The key part of a Hope player is that they can dream up a better world than the one that exists, and that can definitely be said about Momota. Like Jake, he’s a bit in his own head and immersed in his fantasy version of reality, where he plays the hero and is able to save everyone else. He’s somewhat gullible, to a point, and he’s the most superstitious of the bunch, showing how much stock he can put into the thing he believes. The sheer power of Momota’s belief is infectious, hence why I made him a Rogue--he’s out there trying to impart his sense of belief into those around him, for everyone’s benefit. He dreams on Prospit because of course he does, and I made his land name reflect literal space in conjunction with his talent, and to riff on that inspirational poster about shooting for the moon and landing among the stars.

Yumeno Himiko Heir of Doom Prospit & Derse Dreamer The Land of Death and Magic

While most people who played V3 picked up on Saihara being depressed, not everyone has noticed that Yumeno also suffers from the same bleak view of the world. Similarly to Saihara, Yumeno is not a healer, or a doer. She’s here to sigh and complain and tell you that’s rough, buddy. Because of that, I can definitely see her as a Doom player. I made her an Heir, as one who is consumed by their aspect, since Yumeno is very much doom and gloom a lot of the time. She’s also subconsciously drawn to death, as she gets close to both Angie and Chabashira before their untimely demises. It’s through their deaths that she comes more into her own, hence why it’s also part of her land title (I don’t think I have to explain the other part). She dreams on both moons because Doom players are implied to do so.

Yonaga Angie Witch of Hope Derse Dreamer The Land of Prayer and Idols

Like Momota, Angie has intense faith on her side; if Angie thinks it’s true, it’s true. She’s also similarly not looking at the same world as everyone else, instead seeing something slightly different and colored by her own beliefs. However, unlike Momota, Angie is not interested in helping others find their own faith, and would rather use the power of her belief for her own gain. Hence why I made her a Witch, an active class that manipulates its aspect. The other characters may not believe in Angie’s religion, but they sure do believe her when she tells them to sacrifice their autonomy for safety. I put her on Derse since her god could very easily just be a specific horrorterror, and the land name is connected to religion. 

Shirogane Tsumugi Maid of Void Derse Dreamer The Land of Scripts and Swatches

I went through a lot of possible Classpects for Shirogane, including Light, Space, Seer, Heart, etc., but I think that this is what I’m going to settle on. Derse Dreamer because not only is she schemey, she’s listening to whispers of her bosses and the ratings, albeit in a less direct sense than Kiibo (what’s more horrorterror-y than a focus group!). Void as an aspect works well to me, since Shirogane is always going on and on about being plain and forgettable, about how she hides in plain sight, and even her talent is about becoming somebody else rather than herself. She’s also the one who in the end throws the “truth” into question, instead concealing it in favor of ambiguity. I went with Maid since one of the speculated interpretations is one who creates or creates through their aspect: she not only (arguably) erases the casts’ identities and memories, she does this in order to have “blank pages” on which to write the killing game’s drama. Whether Maid is an active or passive class is unknown, but if it’s active it makes sense since she’s using other people for her own gain, and if it’s passive, it could be argued that she’s doing it in service of Team DR or the audience.

Speaking of...

Bonus!

The V3 audience Muse of Space The Land Beyond the 4th Wall

I don’t like assigning Master Classes unless I have a really good reason, and here I think it works. The fans are the epitome of the “wait-and-see” model, and their crime as it were is their general apathy toward the very real subjects of the killing game. They’re all big picture and no important details or nuance. You can’t get much more passive than being an audience member, hence Muse class, yet it’s their desire to recycle the series over and over that leads to the killing game’s very existence (they’re also not too upset about letting the kids’ past lives be sacrificed for this act of creation). The V3 audience is collectively in the real world as opposed to the Medium, hence the “planet” title for them. In the context of an actual Sburb game, they’d likely be Exiles.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeah, no Rage players in V3. I couldn’t find my notes the other night when I got home, so I just went ahead and reworked all of the classpects from there.

The Aspects were fairly easy to assign, but the Classes really had me scratching my head for a good long while. Maybe it’s because it can recontextualize the Aspect elements depending on what it is, or maybe it’s because we don’t have as much information about how Classes work. 

Anyway, whew, that’s it! Hope you enjoyed!

Sam x male reader: Atypical

Title :secret admirer

Description : Sam was quite confused when he got a secret admirer, but he didn't expect it to be Y/N, a quiet kid from class who really, really likes dinosaurs.

Warnings : swearing and some suggestive joles (Zahid, obviously),

If any of the writing here is offensive or unrealistic, please let me know and I will correct it.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair, hurrying to his blue locker and opening it. It was the end of the school day and he was definitely ready to go home and watch a new documentary he found about baby penguins. That got stuck at the back of his mind when he saw a small penguin plush smack dab in the middle of his clean locker though. The penguin could easily sit on the palm of his hand, and it was black and white. The strangest thing about it was the fluorescent yellow post it note on the belly of the penguin.

This penguin is as adorable as you, Sam.

~your secret admirer

Sam was really confused, why would someone want to be his secret admirer? He had known what a secret admirer was from an episode of some stupid show he used to watch. The flirting on the note had made a blush crawl up his chest and neck though, making his stomach flip like he had just drove down a steep hill. He just didn't know what to do, but he knew that he had to talk to his best friend about this predicament.

"sam the man, what's up?" Sam shook his head and slammed the penguin plush on Zahid's work counter, making his friend roll his eyes but when he saw the note his neutral expression changed to a smirk "what is this? Dude! You have a secret admirer. That's like... Free pussy" Sam wrinkled his nose at the term, "I need to know who it is, Zahid." he sighed, starting to feel overwhelmed. Why couldn't the person just be straightforward with this? Zahid shook his head with a pity smile "Sam, my man, there is nothing to do to get them to reveal themselves. Just let it run its course and in no time there will be another girl added to the bone list" he rocked his hips in a jokey way, and Sam just groaned and put on his headphones. He took the penguin before walking out, leaving his annoying friend.

Y/n didn't know Sam too well. He sat a row behind him in his art class and that's actually how he knew Sam's love for penguins. The amount of talented art y/n had seen of his was amazing, but also he felt as if sneaking little looks at the drawings made him closer to Sam. Not in a weird way, but y/n felt like he were taking small glances at his heart and mind, and that was sacred.

Sam had given up on getting advice for the secret admirer problem, not mentioning it to anyone but Zahid. The next day, he was surprised but happy to find two charcoal pencils at his desk, in perfect lines parallel to where he sat. There was a longer note this time.

Penguins are nice, no? The way you get so happy when you see anything about penguins is beautiful, by the way.

Love, your secret admirer~

The room was mostly empty aside from three people. One of them was the boy who sat behind Sam. The most logical thing to do is to ask him about the secret admirer. "that's a teridactyl, right?" Sam had a lesson from his sister about starting a conversation before asking for something. Y/N looked up from his sketchbook in surprise before moving his arm and showing the half coloured drawing "uh yeah, guess so." Sam nodded and stood there for a few long seconds, before y/n cleared his throat "do you uh- need anything?" Sam nodded "did you see someone put charcoal on my desk today? If so I would like a full body description and/or name, please" he added the please on quickly.

Y/n stumbled on his words a little bit before coming out with "just some random guy" shit. Shit. Shit! Why did he say guy?! Sam looked shocked for a moment before a small smile adorned his face, making y/n melt. "guy" he whispered, before looking at y/n "thank you," he said quickly, sitting down in his seat and getting out the rest of his things. As an add on, Sam turned his head and nodded "the drawing is nice" he whispered.

It was a week later when Sam returned to his locker. The halls were basically empty because he had to stay behind at the end of the day, but when he got to the hallway his breath caught in his throat. Y/n was sticking a sticky note to a bouquet of lillies that he was about to put in the open locker. Sam's open locker. When he heard the squeak of Sam's shoes, y/n turned around and the bouquet dropped from his hands onto the shiny floor.

"you're my secret admirer" Sam said in a factual tone, his expression unreadable as he slowly walked toward the other. Y/n was frozen, like a deer in the headlights "you weren't meant to see this, or.. Me" he whispered, his wide (eye colour) eyes stuck on his crushes face. Sam gave a smile, trying to be reassuring to the other teen who was just staring at him dumbly "I-I really do enjoy your gifts, and notes. Please don't run off, I won't be rude about it" Sam said to y/n who was planning on running. Sam lowered himself to pick up the fallen flowers and note.

You're so sweet, Sam. As stunning as the petals on this flower, and as breathtaking as the bouquet. I apologize if my poetry is strange, but its the only way to express how I feel.

Dearest, your secret admirer~

After Sam read it out loud, he glanced up at y/n who had taken a step forward and was now right in front of Sam. Sam looked up slightly at the taller male, a soft expression on his face as he held y/n's hand so they both held the bouquet. "Sam, can I hug you?" he asked breathily, and Sam nodded before wrapping his arms quite clumsily and awkwardly around the others waist. Y/n was left holding the bouquet as he let Sam bury his head into the crook of Y/n's neck. "hey Sa-" Casey gaped at the scene in front of her, a proud tear coming to her eye which she blinked away.

Y/n let Sam pull away, feeling his heart swell at the sight of a dark blush coating the awkward man's cheeks. Y/n couldn't speak though, almost positive the tips of his ears were red too. He pushed the bouquet to Sam's chest, giving him a smile "I'll talk to you on Monday, okay?" he said in a low tone, making Sam nod quickly. Y/n cleared his throat and looked over at Casey, waving at her "afternoon" and just like that Sam's secret admirer had walked away, a grin on his face. Sam stared after him, a shaky smile on his face as Casey went to her phone to rant about what she just saw to their mother.

Okay I really enjoyed this week’s episode! It set up a bunch of cool stuff that I can’t wait to see, and it was a fun watch. We got a number of desperately needed partner/Digimon moments, and we got some much needed Taiyama friendship action going on - as well as some other stuff I super appreciated (but still want more of). I’m so stoked for how the team is coming together.

We didn’t get a few things I normally would have expected, and I’m never quite sure if I feel that way because it’s truly missing or if it’s just that “this ain’t your momma’s Digimon Adventure” yadda yadda. I don’t think i’ll ever get used to Taichi being so serious in comparison to his 99 incarnation (but, I get the feeling he is more in line with original V-Tamer Taichi, so there’s that).

So not a slam dunk for me, but all in all, it was good!

I just took as many Taiyama pics as I could so why don’t we just knock one out of the way before we begin xD

They look so coooool all beat up and windswept

More below!

Sooo last week, the aptly named Eyesmon evolved into the equally well-named Orochimon. I always think “hydra!” (thank you Hercules) so initially my thought was that the plan would be for each of the kids to take out one head. Then I remembered, we only have six kids so far... and then I got a better look at it:

(this cap’s from much later but it shows the whole body so)

there was clearly one head that was significantly different from the others and appeared the most connected to the body! So the strategy was clearly lop off the central head because that’s what’s controlling the rest! A la VenomVamdemon only slightly less gross hahaha

Meanwhile back in real Tokyo, as Koushirou explains, the electronic pulse generated from this freaky Digimon’s battle is affecting anything digital, or even just anything that uses electricity.

Kaaaboom!

Our kids try to fight but it’s pretty obvious they’re out of their league. I did totally love MetalGreymon and Zudomon leading the charge together sort of. Because I continue to be a sucker for Taichi/Jou growth parallels! Anyway they both get knocked out and de-evolve so Taichi calls for them to regroup.

Aww piggyback

The way Jou carries Gomamon like an infant though ;___;

Sora and Garudamon lead the retreat, scooping everyone up and carrying them out of danger and omg look at Gomamon he looks so cozy gaaah

but not before Taichi realizes someone’s not with them... it’s Yamato of course... he’s just standing there... staring...

Why? Because “my little brother’s in danger in the real world!” That is adorable. Stupid but adorable.

Also stupid yet adorable... Taichi immediately runs to go get him. I have no idea WHAT his plan was but I am eternally grateful that he is such a dork because it gives adorable dorkiness like this:

and this

and ultimately this

pffffffftb

weregarurumon tries his best he really does

(no but really this is now my PREFERRED method of transportation for these two, one each tucked under WereGarurumon’s armpit and just dangling like that while he runs like crazy protecting his precious cargo... also look at Taichi holding onto Agumon’s arm the whole time eeeeeiiiii I love those detals it almost distracts from WereGarurumon’s expression of shock when they inevitably get shot and fall to their doom x’D)

yeah so everyone gets shot and falls to their separate dooms, and this was 100% just an excuse to put Taichi and Yamato alone together. The shonen action anime equivalent of “and there was only one bed!”

Jou continues to cradle Gomamon like his very own son

The kids wonder what to do and Jou has a cool moment here and there (like legit cool, where he acts all responsible)

... er, I did say “moment” :P

Meanwhile Koushirou is all cryptic and scary. That is his main job after all. You may think it’s to be the team brain, but it’s actually to make sure we viewers know just how terrible things really are so we can lose all hope of survival even though we already know they’re going to win x’D

I mean that is pretty scary tbh

Taichi breathes a sigh of relief. I wasn’t exactly surprised that he’s not running out to fight - even 99 Taichi usually understood when it was time for a strategic retreat. At the same time, maybe it’s just me, but I totally got the sense that he was scared in this scene. Not out of his head with fear, but definitely worried, I mean none of them seemed to have any effect on this monster earlier. It’s interesting to feel his tension.

“Yamato why did you just stand there in the street while we were trying to make our getaway?”

“Because... my little brother’s right in the center of danger back home... I can’t let this monster continue its rampage or he could get hurt...”

“Yeah man that’s all fine but I mean why did you just stand there in the street like an idiot I’m pretty sure you won’t be much use to your little bro if you’re steamrollered?!?!”

He looks so surprised that all this has been because of brotherly love. I can’t remember, is this the first Taichi’s hearing of Takeru? I know he wasn’t there when Yamato told Sora & co but maybe it was mentioned way back when they jogressed... Either way I wonder why he doesn’t say “I get it, I have a sister back home too that I’m worried about too.” Seems like a moment for bonding ya know?

That is the one thing I felt was missing here... we went through all the trouble of getting Taichi and Yamato alone together, and all that happens is Yamato confides something in Taichi that he’s already shared with the others. I mean, Taichi also shows his willingness to help Yamato and work together, and I think that is the important thing we’re supposed to take away, as Yamato’s all touched by it... but uh, for the most part I felt like not much happened in this scene, at least not that we haven’t already seen before.

Takeru’s phone, he’s waiting for a call from “oniichan” T-T my precious boy

And we actually get to see him!! His face!! His adorableness!! Ahhh Takeru I miss youuu!

Family photo! Parents’ faces not shown in the usual tradition of “divorcees in kids’ shows”! Also the tell-tale brothers are holding hands, but parents are standing as far apart as possible...

Meanwhile Taichi’s mom and sis are trying in vain to evacuate while their car flips out. Hikari sees an image of Orochimon broadcast on a nearby building and flinches away. No one else seems to notice it so maybe this is just her special ability like in 99 Adventure?

Traffic’s at a complete standstill and everyone’s electronics are going bonkers so Mama Yagami has them get out and head for the trains. Unfortunately this is what everyone else decides to do as well, and Hikari winds up like Simba in the wildebeest stampede, only there’s no one to jump in and save her so she tragically dies. :P

taichi: I see your ‘brother in danger’ and raise you one ‘dead sister.’

yamato: screw you

“You did great Mimi!!” A JOUMI MOMENT WE GOT A JOUMI MOMENT sort of okay but beggars can’t be choosers HE PRAISES HER (FOR STUFF HE WASNT EVEN THERE TO WITNESS THO LOL) AWWWW ITS SO CUTE

Then he remembers to praise his partner!!! All by himself! (Finally!) Gomamon’s so happy! It was so unexpected and he’s ecstastic!

Piyomon instantly gets jealous!!!! It’s so adorable!!! Sora is quick to reassure her that Garudamon is indispensable.

“And I’m the prettiest, right Mimi?”

“When you’re Lillymon, anyway.”

“D:”

lol the return of Mimi only appreciates Lillymon’s sense of fashion tickles me. an essential Mimi characteristic

Tentomon shyly and awkwardly tries to wring a compliment out of Koushirou too. It works, Koushirou is quick to tell Tentomon that he’s super cool as AtlurKabuterimon. I will be honest though, I wanted him to fail, just because we need to let these kids actually develop!! Their arcs are over so quickly! It took 99 Koushirou 52 episodes to be able to say “I love you” (I think it was “thank you” or something in the original Japanese but the point is he was being super honest and vulnerable at long long last). Imagine what an important moment this would have been if Tentomon’s “and me?” had been met with “huh? uh uh... I was thinking about how to defeat Orochimon... what are we talking about?”

That is something I continue to miss, not just with Koushirou but with everyone... their personal weaknesses just don’t really feel like weaknesses the way they did in 99 Adventure. And I’m just wondering why? For me, that was a driving force of what made 99 Adventure really great. It wasn’t afternoon special “stories with a moral” type drivel, because what they learned in the moment still had to build upon, and they would fail again, and learn again, and become their best selves slowly. And they’d risk a lot in the meantime. It was powerful to ten-year-old me. We are at ep 17 now and by this point in 99 Adventure, we’d had tons of scenes like that. I keep thinking “okay it’s early, we’ve got time!” but at this point it’s not so early anymore! But comparing with 99 Adventure is also a useless effort and I continue to choose to enjoy this show as its own separate thing and believe there’s still lots to come.

Taichi expresses his willingness to fight alongside Yamato even though as Yamato warn’s “it’s gonna be totes yabai”

Taichi: “I eat yabai for breakfast”

Yamato: “smiles”

jokes aside... the way Yamato smiles at Taichi is so cute! It’s hesitant, but once it’s there it doesn’t waver. He’s clearly starting to get used to relying on Taichi for backup, at least, and it’s no question that he feels friendship for him and the others, he’s just reluctant to admit it. The question is how all this will hold up when the situation’s reversed.

I LOVE this particular cap, Idk, there’s something about the sheer determination on Taichi’s face and the trust in Yamato’s as he looks back at him while they ride Garurumon directly into Orochimon’s line of fire... Fizz I think you’re reading too much into the animation. DON’T MESS WITH MY DREAMS OK I KNOW THESE KIDS BETTER THAN I KNOW MYSELF

obligatory Best Boy cap

Suddenly, in the real world, the fight is broadcast on the screens!! I was expecting this to happen every time a screen flickered, but once it did, I was like wow!! they’re going to let the whole world in on the secret of the digital world already!? and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that

BUT... that’s not what happened, maybe. Because so far the only ones who for sure are seeing these images of Digimon and the Chosen Children are Hikari and Takeru. No one else reacted to Orochimon and Mama Yagami doesn’t go “hey, that’s my son!” We could argue no one noticed because they were busy evacuating like maniacs, and Mama Yagami was busy looking for Hikari on the ground and not looking up at the screens. But it feels impossible that someone wouldn’t notice! So my current theory is only Hikari and Takeru can actually see these images... at least for now.

The fight rages. Meanwhile, the others soon catch up, as the only reason they were separated in the first place was to let Taichi and Yamato have a Moment. One thing I really liked though was Sora more or less leading the charge to join Taichi and Yamato. I want more of “second in command Sora” now and forever. (My personal headcanon since I was a kid was always that if something happened to Taichi, Sora, not Yamato, would take over. Tri did not go that way though :P)

Burning eyes of courage!!

They beat Orochimon by taking off his central head, as predicted. Then they all go and take a nap in the street. It is full of d’awww.

Gabumon and Agumon mimicking their partners’ body language always get’s a mega d’awwwww

Taichi: “That was yabai!”

Yamato: “I warned you it would be.”

Taichi: “Yeah, but we made it somehow!”

Yamato: “... smiles”

Uggggghhhh I can’tttttt with these two

Like Koushrou, Yamato is totally whipped by Taichi’s smile... oh dear... my heart is pulled in two directions... Taiyama... Taishirou... “my number one my number two...” (anyone else remember that dumb song there used to be tons of love triangle amvs on youtube set to it...)

I mean just look. look at Yamato looking at Taichi. he can’t make himself look anywhere else. ToT

Sora and Piyomon also win Adorable Award of the Day.

Honestly everyone gets it... I apologize for not having any cute Tentomon resting on Koushirou scenes capped! It’s because they drew Tentomon’s head freakishly big and I just couldn’t do it bahahaha but they were cute too

And that’s the end of... oh oh wait, did you think the battle was over? YOU NOOB. xD

every veteran Digi fan was not at all surprised to see this countdown appear and what looks like yet another bad guy evolution next week. Also next week...

... looks like Takeru’s finally going to join us!! Yaaaay! Very dramatically too it seems!

We got a glimpse of Hikari in a similar moment BUT... I’m not convinced Hikari will truly be joining us. She was separated from her mom and is clearly going to have a Digimon interaction of some sort like Takeru, but I think this is “eighth child” build up, one because the current ending theme is completely Takeru centric, and two because it just makes sense to me that Takeru would be Crisis One and Hikari will be Crisis Two. Idk of course it’s just a hunch.

Fizz before you said Hikari was killed in the stampede I WAS KIDDING

kidding about children dying??? OMG Y’ALL

maybe though Hikari’s swept away by those people, gets her Digivice, then is promptly captured by... idk evil Digimon, or shady government officials? More likely, she gets her digivice and helps but keeps it a secret and plans to show her brother when they reunite... we’ll see!

This ep I give 8/10!!

Ending with one more cool Taichi cap from next week’s trailer!

Hey! I can't seem to find the post you made with all the books references in Illuminate Me and the reason behind it? Is it deleted?

I know that there is an incomplete one floating around in my reply tag, and it should be in the Illuminate Me tag, but tumblr’s search features are so bad that I went back to the original word doc of the complete list, so prepare for that particular storm lol.  Quoted/Referenced Reading List (In Order of Appearance) Shakespeare: Macbeth I opened on a Macbeth quote (‘When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lighting, or in rain’) because I wanted to start with something immediately relatable. Most readers were introduced to more ‘dramatic’ plays through Macbeth. Beyond that, they were introduced to the concept of pathetic fallacy, which I think plays nicely with Tony as a character (a man who is CONSTANTLY imparting emotion onto inanimate objects…and then actually giving them their own emotions) and with one of the core problems in IM, which is deciding the emotions of others for them. I was hoping to get the ‘feel’ of that without having to lean too far into the actual concept. 

Bonus: I picked this quote in particular because of the importance of threes in Tony’s life (his core group of friends, iterations of the reactor, number of times reborn, his bot children VS his AI children, the number of lovers or almost lovers he has in the fic, etc). Milton: Paradise Lost ‘What is dark within me, illuminate!’ is a modernization of the original Milton quote ‘what is dark within me, illumine’ for readability. I actually feel a bit bad about changing this considering how many people think this is the original quote now. This wound up being a central (and title) quote somewhat by accident. I’m fond of it because of how much I liked a different one that I had originally wanted for Tony’s thoughts of the reactor: ‘yet from those flames, no light, but rather darkness visible’. I had originally wanted to start off on a sadder note, one that showed how much Tony hated losing his humanity, and so the flames of Hell and their physics-bending concept seemed thematically appropriate. I had always intended to eventually invert the imagery – instead of Extremis being (to Tony) flames capable of extinguishing light, the reactor would become a water-like blue light that couldn’t be choked or recreated by any of the shadows that pursued Tony in his life. I picked Milton SPECIFICALLY for the imagery of light and shadows. 

But, man, listen. Darkness visible is a great concept, but it’s also tired. It has, as you’ve noted, been discussed to death. So as I was reading ‘Milton’s darkness visible and Aeneid 7’ to refamiliarize myself with some of the broader themes attached to that particular piece of imagery, I wound up thinking about how to invert the darkness itself instead of the overall concept. The flames of Hell extinguish light instead of having to exist away from it. It is a bad that cannot be penetrated by good. 

Instead of chasing away shadows, which would be implied by shining a light ON them, the request Tony makes here is to actually invert the darkness - to have it illuminate in and of itself. It’s becoming something better instead of being removed or forgotten. On the flip side of that, the darkness within isn’t growing as light weakens, but rather under its own force. Two forces equal in nature and origin in a person. It’s a different take on lighting than the one most critics hammer home. Long ramble is long, but this was the basis for using that quote. It grew from there to have many different meanings, however the core has always remained. All in all I’m pleased with it.

EM Forster: A Room with a View Very forgiving even in its satirical takes on human nature. A lot of passages are very therapy-quotable in their urging to accept the inevitability of causing some harm in life. It plays on a lot of the same concepts with light being obvious metaphor for good and evil that Paradise Lost does, but softens them into more realistic shades of human existence. Isaac Asimov: Foundation Continuing on with themes of rigid morality vs the flexibility and romanticism of humanity, we have Asimov, master of machines and the three rules of robotics! There are lots of quotable epigrams in this beast. The quote pulled from this has two readings depending on what you assume of the man who has said it. If you see him as manipulative, there’s an insidious underpinning of killing off your own morals. If you see him as a kind man, then you could read it as foregoing morals in place of empathy. Tony’s therapist loves a very specific brand of double speak that lets Tony work through the conversation purely through interpretation. Tolstoy: Anna Karenina Tolstoy’s prose is lengthy...so so lengthy, but Anna Karenina is worth the read as long as you relate to at least one of its major characters. Frankly, I think you can choose to read a single character’s plot arc and leave it at that. It’s mostly a novel that is interesting, not because of its plot, but because of its study of relationship dynamics. Tolstoy was really invested in picking apart the idea of what makes a ‘family’ and, beyond that, what makes a class. It’s refreshing to see so much of the critique occurring within the lived experience of the characters instead of through a narrator or outside punishing moral forces. Baudelaire: Windows and Benediction I cannot recommend enough reading multiple translations of Baudelaire poems (fleursdumal.org has a wonderful array available). Benediction is a personal favourite. I love me some malevolence wrapped up in religion. Dante: The Divine Comedy There’s a lot of bleak humor in Dante if you look for it. Several interpretations insist of making each piece excessively grim dark, but faithful translations tend to have a hint of humor in them. It works well for engraving War Machine’s spine - a benediction and a mockery of human limitations. I try to pick quotes that not only fit the scene, but would still fit into the context of the grander themes from whence they came...unless I hate the author. Tennyson: The Lady of Shallot “I am sick of shadows” vs “I am half-sick of shadows”. Tony’s expressing more frustration here with being alone and his passive involvement in that loneliness. Another quote I feel vaguely bad about changing, haha. The Lady of Shallot is a very nice classical piece that I’m sad isn’t taught in schools alongside Hamlet. There are some nice Ophelia parallels here. I wanted a feminine influence on Tony’s loneliness and one that is somewhat youthful despite his age. Yeats: Vacillation I fucking hate Yeats as a person. That said, the man can write. The man can REALLY write. His pieces are almost always layered to the point of absurdity and he’s perfect to swiping quotes with multiple meanings. Definitely Tony’s kind of author. Goethe: Faust Speaks for itself and in the author’s notes on its reference.  Dostoyevsky: The Brothers Karamasov IMO a book that deserves all the acclaim of Anna Karenina and then some. Very VERY Russian in its ethical debates of, as always, religious morality vs free will. Also dips into familial struggles and patricide, because it wouldn’t be a Russian classic if it didn’t contain some deeply buried bitter resentment towards paternalism. I’m going off-script here, but this is a fucking excellent book. I don’t really have words for how much I enjoy how Dostoyevsky explores the concepts that he does. Shakespeare: Julius Ceasar Shakespeare: Twelfth Night Twelfth Night deserves more credit for its development and maintenance of an enigma. Twelfth Night has charisma in spades both because of and in spite of the exceedingly petty actions of some of its characters. It is also a refreshingly simple take on love for the sake of it. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Stephen King: Lisey’s Story I consider Lisey’s Story to be the best of King’s work. The man has his obvious writing ticks and his even more obvious issues as an author. Lisey’s Story contains many of them, but navigates them far better than any of his other work. The monster here is all in the mind and is too vast to truly see or understand. It’s perfectly representative of a creeping sense of inescapable horror. It was fun to flip it on its head with a reference here – Tony isn’t terrified of dying, but he is terrified of his inescapable enjoyment of Bucky’s company. Maria’s family saying is inspired by Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass Armitage: The Death of King Arthur A genuinely fantastic classic tale of heroism, filled with all the drama, tragedy, and sacrifice that you’d expect with strongly feminine undertones. I’m a sucker for this kind of thing. TS Eliot: The Wasteland Excellent piece of poetry with many layered meanings and dual interpretations. I can’t really articulate my thoughts on The Wasteland, but I reference an essay at the end of this list that does that for me. Oedipus Rex Rupert Brooke: Safety Not directly quoted but obscurely referenced through Bucky and Tony’s war conversations + Bucky’s conversation about, you got it, being ‘safe’ with his therapist. His poetry is about WWI and is, largely, idealistic. Safety is…not quite an exception to that. His other poetry contains a certain sense of honour and duty, whereas safety, maintaining a seemingly light tone, has nothing of the sort. It is safety in the soul – something untouchable by the horrors of war or death. It treats that as a ‘house’, which leant itself to the article Tony send Bucky. Armine Wodehouse: Before Ginchy Not directly quoted but obscurely referenced through Bucky and Tony’s war conversations + Bucky’s conversations with his therapist. This is also WWI poetry, though far darker than Brooke’s work. It discusses the parts of the heart and soul soldiers lose. It is an extremely good piece AND references Dante’s Inferno. I had to work it in somewhere even if I didn’t want to directly quote it. Meyer and Brysac: Tournament of Shadows Referenced several times over in discussion of war, the great game, and British military history. Beautifully self-aware account of Britain’s insistence on rewriting history after the fact and the tiny hilariously embarrassing moving pieces that shaped what is often considered the heyday of espionage. Murakami: Kafka on the Shore I love Murakami’s response to questions about understanding the novel as a whole. There are no solutions, only riddles presented, and through their interaction the possibility of a solution takes place. It’s a great lens through which to view the book and individual passages taken out of it. Reminds me of The Wasteland having to be read in totality before you can begin picking it apart, after which each individual piece can be read of its own. Kafka on the Shore, with its musings on the uncertainty of fate and redemption, was the perfect book to outline Tony’s horrifying realization, which he is desperately suppressing, that he might be coming to accept Bucky’s feelings. This quote in particular, while I would’ve used it anyway, is also a great callback to the first chapter and its storms. Chapter 29 is a turning point. Beyond it there are some intentional quote contrasts that are probably more easter eggs than they are anything else. Yeats: A Dialogue of Self and Soul Great contrast with Vacillation. Some parts of self and soul are used in that poem and thematically they are connected and contrasted - self and heart vs self and soul. The symbolism and imagery in Vacillation is really on point and layered, but Self and Soul is peak Yeats for its reversal of the typical ‘the soul is pure and bluntly honest and the body is tainted and bad’ in Christian works. Also Self and Soul’s broader context is scrumptious considering the debate poems history of relying on divine forgiveness and lack thereof instead of on forgiveness of the self. 

It was fun to give this poem a double meaning in IM as both hugely ominous and ultimately pointing to the later forgiveness Tony receives from himself through the divine (if the soul stone can be called that) in the heavens (space!). There’s also another fun twist to ‘who can distinguish darkness from the soul’ in its contrast with ‘what is dark within me, illuminate’. To take that a step further, Vacillation was the beginning of the path of forgiveness for Bucky (understanding Tony’s heart…somewhat literally as he slowly gets closer and closer to the reactor itself), while Self and Soul is a final step (re: Bucky being presented the final hurdle of Tony deciding to move forward alone). Hermann Hesse: Siddhartha Hesse is wonderfully blunt at times. I gotta admit I love German takes on spiritual self-discovery because they always seem to tend towards much more straightforward answers than other countries. Hesse’s relationship with Buddhism in literature vs his lived experience is also really intriguing. Anyway, Siddhartha, in its humanizing of Gods, is wonderful contrast to the consistent imagery of the untouchable and unknowable forces of good and evil in previously quoted works. It has stopped bringing humanity to the divine and has started placing the divine within humanity. Emily Wilson’s translation of the Odyssey One of the ultimate poetic epics. Now that we are nearing the end, I’m going overtime with making the grander themes of this whole piece hit home. A lot of IM was built on a foundation of poetic epics, of heroism, and a bit of Greek tragedy. The Odyssey embodies all of those things beautifully. It also suited Thor too well to pass up. Yeats: An Irish Airman Forsees His Death Ah, Yeats. Very blatant foreshadowing here that is keeping with the foreshadowing from Self and Soul. Fate has, up till this point, been a bit of a question. It has been ‘when will it come to me’ and ‘how will I avoid or overcome it’. Now fate is a set point. It is knowable and present. ‘I know I shall meet my fate, somewhere among the clouds above’. This goes for the true onset of Infinity War and for Tony’s feelings towards Bucky – when he had no one, he allowed Bucky in after essentially promising himself he wouldn’t. If that’s not an accidental admittance of love, nothing is. Henley: Invictus Absolutely fantastic poem. Continuing with the heavy fate themes coming into this climax. Now that Tony knows his fate, truly knows it, he is choosing to take it on directly. Agamemnon (Anne Carson’s Traslation if you prefer a more modern language approach, Lattimore is you prefer a classic) Agamemnon is forgotten all too often in the world of poetic epics and it’s a damn shame. I cannot say enough good things about it. I always wanted to use lines from Agamemnon in a Tony fic because the Cassandra parallels were too perfect to resist. The chorus in this play was also a perfect narrative device for interacting with something of a hive mind. Yeats: The Wanderings of Oisin Another poetic epic. Nice contrast with The Odyssey, The Death of King Arthur, and Agamemnon. Here the dialogue is between an aged hero and a saint looking into the hero’s past. It has the kind of reflective and aged mood necessary for this stage of the story, but is actually a poem I sortof hate. The line ‘And a softness came from the starlight, and filled me full to the bone’ is absolutely gorgeous, though. Some final inspiration pieces:

The Penelopiad 

The Iliad 

House of Leaves (for surrealism in the final chapters) 

Dante at Verona (used in an author’s note as an intentional jab at the dull uninspired nature of the this particular take on Dante. Repurposed quote, essentially) 

a broke machine just blowin’ steam by themikeymonster (great character study of Bucky) 

Frank Kermode’s essay “Eliot and the Shudder” (inspiration behind Tony’s entire interaction with literature)

Christmas at the Museum

Summary: Ahkmenrah discovers the traditions of Christmas, and Y/N gets him a special gift.

A/N: This is SO disgustingly fluffy that it may actually kill you. I made five incoherent noises of cute as I wrote it, so be warned. 

A/N II: I’m still working on requests ☺️ The muse bit, and I just HAD to get this one written. 

“We can’t put the Christmas tree in your display.”

“Behind the wall—no one will see.”

“People walk all through your display during the day. They are going to notice a Christmas tree.”

“But I want one just for us! I do not wish to share the big one in the lounge.”

“You sound like a—"

“Call me a brat and you will face my wrath, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Ahkmenrah’s frustration, knowing damned well he was all bark and no bite now that he didn’t have an empire at his fingertips to command.

“We have the tree at my place, too. That tree’s just for us.”

Ahkmenrah looked at you for a long moment before sighing, “I suppose you are right.”

“I am known to be on occasion. Besides, don’t you want to know what magical Christmas tradition I have planned for us this evening?”

Ahk’s posture straightened and for a moment, you were reminded he was once a king—still, technically, a king.

“Tell me,” he commanded, his voice barely able to contain the awe despite its authoritative lilt.

“Gingerbread houses!”

Ahkmenrah turned, his golden cape flashing as he ran to the notebook he kept in a secret compartment under his sarcophagus. He flipped through the pages and jogged back, practically shoving the notebook under your nose.

“Yes,” you giggled as you lowered the notebook and looked over his notes and illustrations on Christmas Tradition #52. “That’s the one.”

“This one looks most complex,” Ahk said as he pressed his lips together and reexamined his notes.

“Don’t you trust me? Haven’t we pulled off at least some version of every tradition you’ve researched so far?”

Ahkmenrah looked up again and narrowed his eyes, mentally tallying the results of each of your efforts.

“Tradition 15 did not go so well,” Ahk said quietly, his mouth turning down as he remembered the attempt to form a group of Christmas carolers. After rehearsing for a few hours, you hit the streets only to be heckled as Atilla belted out “Silent Night” in a very broken version of English and in a very gruff voice that startled most of the passersby.

“But what about Tradition—” you trailed off and grabbed Ahkmenrah’s notebook, quickly flipping back a few pages—“Tradition 23. A kiss under the mistletoe?”

Ahk looked up with a wicked grin, his eyes clouding with desire as he pulled the notebook out of your hands and tossed it on the floor. He grabbed your waist and pulled you directly against him, not a breath between you.

“I think that was my favorite,” he growled before kissing you with the same intensity as the night you tried Tradition 23. The mistletoe kiss had led to such a raucous bout of lovemaking that no less than five of the exhibits walked by the storage closet and yelled for you to keep it down.

You probably should have waited to explain mistletoe at your apartment.

And now, you were once again minutes deep into a kiss with Ahk, his hands roaming your body and yours mirroring him, grasping his ass with one hand while the fingers on your other pressed into the back of his head—

“Hey!” Larry interrupted. “What is it with you two? Mistletoe again?”

You and Ahk broke apart, hazy and not quite remembering that you were standing in the middle of his exhibit.

You cleared your throat, swiped at your mouth, and smoothed back your hair.

“Right. Gingerbread. Kitchen. Thanks, Lar. Off we go,” you said as you grabbed Ahk’s wrist and yanked him forward.

The kitchen was perhaps the most festive of all the rooms in the museum, the daytime staff wondering at first if they’d been the butt of a practical joke but instead of tearing down the gaudy decorations, they succumbed to the Christmas spirit and added even more of their own.  

Christmas lights of all shapes and sizes were winking around the steel countertops as the museum’s night-time occupants spread out to gather up their icing and their candy decorations. The gingerbread houses ranged from the extra-large to the traditional to the tiny—you were sure to include something for everyone.

As much as you wanted to sit with Ahk and make a house together, you ended up acting in the role of a teacher as you walked around to help everyone avert a crisis. You sighed and sent a longing look in Ahkmenrah’s direction as you fished out one of Jeb’s cowboy friends who was nearly drowning in a vat of icing.

Ahk was meticulously lining his perfectly constructed gingerbread house with gumdrops alternating in a green, white, and red pattern. His tongue was poking out and his brow was furrowed, but what caught your attention was the streak of white icing on his jaw, just under the corner of his mouth.

You smiled and made your way over to him, letting out a sigh of exasperation as you sat down for the first time that evening. He glanced at you and flashed a quick grin before returning to lining his rooftop.

“You’ve got a bit of icing,” you said, leaning into him and pressing your lips to the sticky mess, “right here.”

A red gumdrop fell from Ahk’s fingertips as you nibbled along his jaw.

“The mistletoe incident was quite enough of that, thank you very much,” Lewis said as he leaned over to pluck some M&Ms out of a dish.

“Quite right, Y/N. We’re all happy Ahk has a somebody but try to reign in the open displays of affection,” Clark added, surveying his crooked house before deciding that licorice might make it look a little less haphazard.  

“Americans. Brits. You are all so squeamish when it comes to exhibiting fondness,” Ahkmenrah muttered as he cocked a critical eye at his gingerbread house.  

“Probably because they’re all so old.”

Ahkmenrah gave you a pointed look.

“They are old? What does that make me?”

“You know what I mean!” you laughed. “Ancient Egyptians were more socially ahead of the times than the oh-so-enlightened ‘modern’ civilizations that cultivated my society.”

“Quite right,” Ahk said as he turned to you, clutched your chin with sticky fingers, and kissed you.

Lewis and Clark sighed in defeat as Ahk returned to his gingerbread house, carefully shaking iridescent sprinkles over the roof of his house to make it look like fresh-fallen snow.

“I think they’re both just jealous of your perfect gingerbread house,” you said, shooting them a wink as Ahkmenrah beamed with pride.

* * * * *  

Before you knew it, the hushed anticipation of Christmas Eve had fallen over the occupants of the museum. You had all agreed that everyone would “sleep” until midnight, and at 12:01 am, you would wake up as if it were Christmas morning, which technically, it really was.

Many of the museum’s occupants, including Ahkmenrah, had bunked together in the lounge with the Christmas tree, making Larry’s job of playing Santa Clause rather difficult. It didn’t help that Nicky wanted to open his presents at the museum, too, so while Larry was struggling to very quietly place presents under the tree, you snuck off to Ahk’s exhibit to work on your surprise.

You were reluctant to leave his present alone for long, but after checking on it for the tenth time, it was 11:55 pm and you had to get back before you were missed.

Nicky was already “waking up” everyone in the lounge by the time you got back. Ahkmenrah gave you a curious glance, but his attention was diverted by the pile of presents under the tree. It truly did look like a magical scene, especially to see the displays dressed up in varying degrees of Christmas outfits.

Ahkmenrah and you were dressed in matching pairs of dark green pajamas patterned with tiny reindeer. However, someone had thought he needed to look more Christmassy and had adorned his curly hair with a bobbling headband that had a pair of red and green ornaments attached to the top.

You smiled to yourself as you watched the bobbles moving while Ahk helped Nicky locate all his gifts, the two of them laughing over the fact that Santa Clause had managed to find his way to the museum so early in the night.

As soon as you were able, you pulled Ahkmenrah away from the chaos and up to his exhibit.

“What is this about, Y/N? I have not yet even given you—I mean you have not yet opened your present from Santa.”

“Only Nicky believes in Santa, Ahk. Well, Atilla and Jeb probably do, too. Anyway, I did a thing—just trust me.”

You stopped right outside of the opening to Ahkmenrah’s exhibit and asked, “Close your eyes?”

He gave a lopsided grin and complied. You took his hand and led him into the exhibit.

“Open.”

You watched, a smile on your face, as Ahkmenrah’s eyes reflected the white lights of a little Christmas tree all decorated in golds and silvers to match the hieroglyphs that adorned the walls of his display.

Underneath the tree was a single, mid-sized present, wrapped in golden paper. However, the present couldn’t remain quiet and a tiny, warbling “mew” emitted from the box beneath the tree.

“Damnit,” you said under your breath, but Ahkmenrah’s mouth had already dropped open as he shot you a glance.

“Y/N,” he whispered, rushing to the tree and dropping to his knees as he reached for the box with shaky hands.

He pulled back, looking to you for permission, and you quickly nodded, biting your bottom lip to stifle your grin.

“MEW!” came the box, this time much more insistent.

Ahkmenrah’s head whipped back in the direction of the golden present, the bobbles on his headband almost rotating in a circle from the ferocity of his movement.

He scooted a little closer to the box before gently lifting the lid. You took a few steps forward, your hand over your mouth as you watched.

Ahkmenrah leaned over and just as he lined himself up parallel to the opening, a tiny, grey, furry head poked up over the edge of the box and looked up, taking in his new owner.

Ahk greeted the little kitten in ancient Egyptian, speaking softly before he offered the little guy his hand to sniff. The kitten reached out, his dark nose touching Ahkmenrah’s proffered hand.

“Mew,” he once again stated.  

Ahk made a strangled noise in his throat before turning to look at you again.

“It’s a little boy, and yes, he’s yours—I thought you might like an heir,” you said chuckling as you kneeled next to Ahk and looked into the box.

“He’s mine?”

“All yours. I’ve worked it out with Rebecca and the museum is excited to have a ‘museum cat.’ Apparently, it’s all the rage now. Aaand you know I’m here during the day at work, so I’ll be able to keep an eye on him until you wake up. We want to keep him in this area, though, until he gets big enough to roam on his own.”

“Oh, Y/N. How did you know?”

“I listen, Ahk. To everything you say. I tried my best to find a kitten that looked like yours.”

“He does,” Ahkmenrah said, his eyes a little misty as he watched his new kitten climb out of the box.

“What are you going to name him?”

“That will require some thought,” Ahk said as he shifted his position and the kitten crawled onto his lap, mewing intermittently.

You smiled and watched him pet the little ball of grey, his eyes 4,000 years away. You hung back and watched the pair bond, smiling softly and thinking about how nice it would be for Ahk to have something of his own.

“You’re in love,” you said, smirking.

Ahkmenrah looked up and held your gaze, his eyes serious.

“I am,” he said with a finality that made you straighten up, and you knew he wasn’t talking about his Christmas present.

You swallowed, your tongue too heavy to form words.

“Thank you. I’ll never forget this Christmas,” Ahkmenrah said. 

“You mean the past 25 days of Christmas?”

Ahk chuckled, “Have they not been magical?”

“Every day—well, night—with you is magical.”

“I would kiss you but Azizi is so comfortable.”

“Azizi? That was fast.”

“It means something akin to your word for ‘precious.’ And nothing is more precious to me than you, Y/N, so it is only fitting that what you have given me holds the same status.”

“You’re too good for this world, Ahkmenrah. How did I get so lucky?”

“Well, 4,000 years ago, my brother stabbed me in the heart—”

“Too dark for Christmas, my love,” you said laughing softly and moving to sit next to Ahkmenrah, your body snuggled next to his as you reached over to stroke the softly purring Azizi.

Okay SPN 15.04, here we go, where I feel weirdly self-conscious about posting a meta post about an ep that had so much meta on itself and now I’m going to write meta about it, so it’s meta on meta on meta, while I’m having my feelings.

THAT COLD OPEN HOLY CRAP DIRECTOR JENSEN. As a director Jensen always pulls out warm performances from actors and he’s a really kinetic director too. That opening fight sequence I held my breath for a lot of it. 

BENNY OH NOES IT’S BENNY (this must be the character Jensen said was one of his favorites and the actor came back to set for one day to do it). “I’ll see you on the other side, brother.” Thanks so MUCH, spn, I thought I was over this and then you come in and reopen that and now I’ve got feelings gdi. Benny was a good friend to Dean. My heart hurts. 

Ohshitohshitohshitohshit demon blood Sam. Noooooo. And he kills Dean. I can never erase these images from my mind, thanks a LOT spn. 

Just a nightmare of Sam’s except no probably not given Sam’s god-wound, so wow this maybe happens on one of Chuck’s other worlds, that’s fine, oh that’s okay I’m fiiiiine, it’s fine. *covers face*

So we have a flip on early S14 here where Dean was turtling to cope with his trauma which is a healthy thing to do but hiding from the world wasn’t going to fix anything so Sam coaxes him out with a hunt. Dean coaxes Sam out with a hunt only I don’t think hunting works for Sam the same way, it’s not Sam’s mental comfort food the way it is for Dean, but still I appreciate the mirroring there.

Sam’s struggling with Rowena’s death and I think those horrific AU nightmare visions aren’t helping much either, but it’s clear he’s feeling the loss. Her loss, all the recent losses.

Dean trolls Sam with real bacon, which seems like Dean is maybe trying to cheer Sam up by pranking him and trying to cheer himself up via food pranks. Dean has quite the case of the munchies in this ep. 

I noticed almost every scene Dean is snacking or drinking from his flask. How’s that whole “Cas walked out and left apparently for good” working out for you Dean, wow, you’re suspiciously chipper while stuffing your face and drinking and Not Talking About It. Did Sam and Dean talk about where’s Cas? Who knows, the ep didn’t mention it, hey SPN you needed a Cas mention, OH WAIT THE EP IS GOING TO CALL ME OUT FOR SAYING THAT.

Seriously though, this is very Dean MO, and I have thoughts about his mood in this ep and how Cas’s absence was felt, and what it means, I’ll get to that later, but even before the last scene Impala talk, I was thinking Cas is a reminder of pain--and no it’s not all about Dean’s anger at Cas, it’s not because Dean is angry at Cas. Cas is a reminder of some things Dean just isn’t coping with very well and part of the problem is Dean cares so much. 

So Dean’s snacking and drinking and Sam is feeling the weight of them knowing all the scary things out there while people go on obliviously with their lives and I’m not sure if Sam is envying them or Sam is feeling some existential angst about the state of the world, how people can go about their lives unaware there are real monsters ready to pounce and tear their lives to shreds. And feeling the weight of the job they do in every bone of his body. Sam’s in a dark headspace.

Ok I admit I was not thrilled to see Becky again given her previous episodes and role. SPN’s later in-canon fan characters were much more nuanced and successful and respectful depictions of fans. But as with many other things, this era of SPN is revisiting some things to move them forward in a different way than before, and subvert some things that needed subverting and Becky has had--wait for it--character development. How about that.

Yes, Becky, run, you do not want anything to do with Chuck. Run, Becky run. I’m rooting for her now. RUNNNN.

Along with finding a more constructive way of channeling her interest in the Winchesters’ lives, and having a satisfying fandom creative life and a full life of her own, Becky has funko pops of Sam, Dean, and Cas. LOL. I see you spn. 

Dean, still with the case of the munchies. So this is like the eating a whole pint of ice-cream after a break-up, only Dean does it with junk food while hunting vampires.

I enjoyed this conversation between Becky and Chuck about writing immensely. Becky is actually right. Speaking myself as someone who’s suffered from writers block for a while, it’s miserable, and not writing just perpetuates the cycle. You feel cut off from an important part of yourself. And--oh here we go getting meta within meta--I find writing meta on SPN a positive outlet. 

“Writing is writing.” Damn Becky’s takedown of Chuck’s derisiveness about fanfic was sizzling and oh excuse me Chuck, what is it you think you were doing with those Supernatural books about your favorite story. Even though he’s the creator, I know. But still. Also seems to be a sly comment on how male-authored “fanfic” based on someone else’s characters or historical characters gets to be professionally published novels and nobody wants to admit it’s fanfic but it is, but women write fanfic and women write novels based on someone else’s characters or historical figures and it gets derided. 

Did not expect commentary celebrating the creativity and validity of fanwork of women in particular an episode of SPN, especially not with Becky of all people, but here we are. 

Uhhhh is Chuck writing this episode, as it happens? I am seriously uneasy now. What is going on. What is real. Which is what I think Dean is going through because of Chuck and OUCH the Winchesters think they’re free but they’re not but also they are their own people and Chuck isn’t controlling them but it’s like he’s still making the framework?? Or would this case just be happening on his own and Perez is just messing with our heads in this script right now.

Oh damn because this ep wasn’t sadness enough now here we go with the Jack parallels. “I can’t control this.” “I’m a monster.” “I killed someone I love.” Parents doing anything to save their out of control teenage kid or does he need to be killed, so the parents are Cas, while Sam and Dean are Dean. 

Interesting that Dean lowered the gun and didn’t kill Jack, but tells Sam they would do that for Jack if it was necessary. You didn’t, though, Dean. You couldn’t go through with it any more than those distressed parents of the vampire teen.

Becky is voicing various non-dire fan complaints here, every lane of the fandom is being gently called out right now. Hahaha including lack of Cas mentions in an ep that pointedly is not!Mentioning Cas because it’s not a mistake there’s actually reasons for that which is just lampshading how much Dean is pointedly Not Going to Talk About Cas. 

“Where they sit around doing laundry and talk” -- again every lane of the fandom should feel very called out right now. Seriously, fandom lanes that hate each other’s guts all have that common factor of craving more domesticity, and would like to see the laundry ep of SPN and for many, it has better include Cas, or we’re working through our need for this via fanfics or fanart. Even Jared and Jensen have expressed interest in a “Winchesters do the laundry” kind of episode. 

But here’s the thing--here’s the thing about SPN...it depicts domesticity. In small bits of pieces. Even in this ep there’s domesticity. SO HA. It’s not that SPN is against depictions of domesticity, it’s definitely in the toolset of its storytelling, to give the characters more layers, to make their lives seem more real, but there needs to be mostly an action plot because that’s the genre so they mostly kill monsters and we only get nibbles of domesticity.

Becky and Chuck arguing about Chuck’s incredibly dark story ending, after Becky criticized him for the story not having enough bite, was so interesting. While the episode’s dark story ending was actually quite well done IMO and not overdone and yes it’s bleak but it’s supposed to be. So it’s not that sad is always terrible writing, no. It isn’t. But its overuse has been a raging hot topic in spn fandom for years and SPN is a hopeful narrative as well as a bleak one. Overuse of loss of hope and misery can hurt the story, causes a number of fans to become desensitized and lose their emotional engagement for it (which has happened to be at a couple of points in SPN’s long run). So that conversation interested me a great deal, yes it did.

So.....SPN had its current biggest of the biggest of ultimate big bads, the ultimate power God himself, the author, and made him the enthusiast for overuse of the misery pr0n like that’s the only smart way to tell a story. The season’s big bad villain is a misery porn enthusiast.

I’m just gonna....sit here and absorb that for a moment.

Oh and this while all the PR for the show keeps warning us about how sad this story is and how bleak the ending will be, not a happy ending show. Are they warning us? Are they trolling us and misdirecting? Because they made their villain a misery pr0n fanboy and this intelligent, self-aware positive depiction of Becky the fan taking him to task for it. 

I feel like could be headed for every story needs its darkness and its light, you need the darkness to appreciate the light, and you need some light or the story is less meaningful. We’ll see.

“I’m a writer,” says Chuck and then takes away everyone Becky loves and then unmakes Becky. This is a purposeful depiction of a writer creator as a sadist. It’s a diabolical reversal on the Stephen King’s Misery scenario. Becky played the deranged fangirl in the past, who kidnaps an object of obsession, now she’s the victim of the deranged sadistic writer who breaks into her home, destroys her life, and then effectively kills her because of his own obsession with making Sam and Dean wretchedly miserable because he thinks that’s the only way to make the story exciting.

*blinks*

In the last scene, oh thanks Sam, for vocalizing the Jack connection. 

Hey Dean, that’s really a nice speech and yes Sam did give you a great pep talk but Sam wasn’t the only one who told you what you did still has meaning. This is like 15.01 where Dean is pointedly erasing Cas again despite Cas very obviously having done something Dean refuses to acknowledge. In 15.01 it was Dean leaving Cas out of his us vs the forces of evil speech to Sam, despite Cas having spent most of the ep shooting ghosts in the face and saving Sam’s life twice. Sam and Cas both have given Dean pep talks about the meaning of what they do but only Sam pulled Dean out of it...uhhh yeah that’s not writer error or canon ignoring Cas. That’s Dean trying to push Cas out of his mind. Something there hurts so much Dean isn’t dealing with it right now.

As I said, as I’ve been saying, it’s not so much that Dean is that angry at Cas. It’s not just about Mary. Or about Cas keeping things from him. Although those are all valid reasons for Dean’s hurt and anger. Dean seems to be afraid or hurt over more than that. And his love for Cas, IMO, is part of why this is weighing so heavily. What does he fear. I think it’s connected to the whole existential crisis about Chuck. What if none of this is real. I’ve talked about that in other posts, if none of this is real, if Dean still doubts, then what if what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, what if Cas doesn’t really care about him because none of it real. 

Dean valiantly puts a brave face on things here, they keep going, they keep fighting for the sake of those they lost, no matter what, “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Which makes sense. That’s how you honor those you’ve lost. It’s just that I don’t think Dean has really reached that. He is Not Dealing with an awful lot of stuff here. And we have seen again and again how hard Dean reels from losing loved ones.  So what’s going on with Dean here. This is a healthy concept, but not if Dean is just whistling past the graveyard again. This might look like character development except look at what’s been going on with Dean. How deeply losing Mary, losing Jack affected him. The impact of those losses needs to be acknowledged and dealt with in order to truly move on and move forward. It’s like Dean is voicing a healthy outlook but isn’t actually experiencing it. I think Dean is posturing because if he lets all the hurt it right now, it will devour him.

There’s also the part where Sam and Dean have in the past displayed a lack of ability to just keep on keeping on if they lose each other, so they used to sell their souls, or violate the other one’s wishes and autonomy, or let the darkness free, but we’ve also seen them let each other go, and “keep putting one foot in front of the other.” Sam and Dean have done both ways with each other. Dean didn’t exactly just keep on keeping on no problem when Cas died at the end of S12.

Sam voices the other side of things, he can’t just move on right now. He’s feeling all the losses. They’ve piled up and piled up and it’s crushing him. Sam says he "can’t breathe” at times. He brings up Jessica, a loss he suffered 14 years ago. 

So Sam and Dean are airing the two aspects of loss and grief on SPN. One the one hand, you don’t just give up and quit because of loss. Honor who you’ve lost and keep on fighting. But losses are deeply felt, and it’s not all okay either. Sam and Dean don’t just shrug off these losses because they have each other. That’s not how this works. They need more than just each other and SPN is increasingly having more and more open dialogue about all of this.

S15 so far has been so much about the impact losing people they love has on Sam and Dean, and why their isolation isn’t a good thing. 

And there’s Chuck, the big bad, typing away to add more misery. Because Chuck gets off on giving them loved ones and taking them away, over and over and this isn’t presented as a good thing or a satisfying thing or a desirable thing or a celebration of anything. 

The Power

⭐⭐⭐; ‘i wanna have a galaxy brain moment’ i cried, ‘give me a galaxy brain moment!’ but the Power did not answer; she just kept on changing POV

Oh?? 👌😉😏

definition of a ‘so many layers!!! it really makes you think!!!’ sort of book -  it slaps hard on gender equality issues

unique format, pushing the usual limits of what a piece of written fiction can be - it read like speculative fiction of a past that was a possible alternate present for us. galaxy brain stuff! i am planning to get back into this eventually to appreciate it the way i think it deserves

makes very good points about what feminism is actually about, and how important it is to keep true equality in mind in the struggle for womens rights. this book does an amazing job in showing all our asses on subtle and subconscious misogyny - and how easy it is to get into that mindset

No.. ❌🤢🤮

tw graphic violence - you know how sometimes overly graphic scenes have a veneer of unreality, because they’re so exaggerated/out of this world? this book gives you the opposite of that feeling.....lets just say my gluteus maximus was getting a workout while i read this book

tw all 50 shades of graphic sexual assault - practically all levels of body autonomy and privacy are violated here. if you’re going to read it, check the triggers, and don’t be afraid to tap out

Very Sad Take™ on how power corrupts us all, and tackles the many misconceptions of a utopian-esque ‘women-dominated society’. this is not a ‘three cheers for women! paragons of light and love!’ book - many of the scenes are meant to show how ridiculous and horrifying misogyny really is by flipping the script. not a ‘fun’ read, in any sense of the word!

Summary: This book has multiple levels to it - the main narrative is set as if in pseudo-present day, following a strange biological phenomenon where young women across the globe suddenly develop bioelectrical powers. Yet its foreword and added material were written as if the whole text is meant to be a piece of historical fiction, a manuscript trying to get published in a female-dominated future. It’s galaxy-brain level stuff packed into a ~400 page book, deconstructing the many ways misogyny and sexism continue to permeate modern society, and how impossible it is to end a cycle of violence by simply adding more firepower to the mix. In the end, power can only beget more power - it offers no sense of balance, let alone peace.

Concept: 💭💭💭💭

I knew I was going to pick this book up eventually - gender-flipped dystopian societies are always great sandboxes to play in, and I was excited to see how the new power imbalance between men and women would be handled. Usually novels like this a set in a parallel or alternate world - so placing it in our reality and generating a ‘new normal’ out of our own society would create another layer of complexity. I was really interested to see how the author was going to handle her unique premise.

Spoilers under the cut!

Execution: 💥💥💥💥

I was taken by the story, but it was starkly different from what I was expecting to get out of it. I still thought the premise was handled beautifully, and the author got the point she wanted to make across well - I enjoyed her hot takes on the subject. However, I was envisioning a clearer narrative voice and a closer third-person perspective; it was hard to connect with all the narrators as they kept cycling in and out of the story, which made it difficult for me to grasp what purpose their character arcs had in developing this book’s main themes. That doesn’t mean I didn’t manage to understand anything - it simply took a little longer than I thought it needed. The writing style was too omniscient narrator for me, like a documentary meandered too much to tell a hard-hitting story.

Favourite Moment: this book was one Big Bummer™ the whole way through so its hard to think of a genuinely enjoyable scene...but one that did stick with me was when Roxy’s //major spoilers// is taken out of her. The description was so poetically horrific....it just hit different. That’s a big part of the reason I need to read the book again, sometime down the line - I really believe that the entire rest of the book could be hitting in that higher weight-class, if only I was in a position to appreciate it.

Personal Enjoyment: ❤❤

I found it really difficult to stay focused on this book - some of that is on me, since I borrowed it from the library and left it until the last 3 days. Me sprint-reading this book made it hard to parse out all the nuance and intricacies of the story, and also likely compounded the ‘lack of clear narrative voice’ issue I mentioned earlier; I couldn’t shake the feeling that a lot of things were going over my head I should’ve been able to catch, if only I were reading this with more breaks in between to process it. And given the recent political atmosphere, I was in the wrong headspace for this story - seeing a lot of violence and vitriol on the news is really lowering my tolerance for realistic violence in fiction right now. I’m definitely planning to take another crack at this novel sometime in the future, because I think there’s a lot here to appreciate - I just wasn’t able to this time.

Favourite Character: Roxy’s characterization resonated with me - she was blunt and brutal and respected the value of power, the sort of person that would thrive in a world crumbling to shit. She had the clearest character arc to track throughout the book, but not because it was a simple one - her story made sense to me in a way the other main characters didn’t quite manage to do - all the different POVs kept ricocheting wildly all over the place.

Ch. 14 of Club Starkiller is up

Read Ch. 14 on AO3 Formatted text available past “Keep reading.” NSFW

Rhea breathes in, breathes out. His shirt—smooth cotton, she thinks idly—represents the only thin layer separating them. For the briefest moment, she wants to touch him: really touch him. She imagines snuggling on his lap, wrapped in a blanket again, cheek pressed against the warm skin of his chest. She thinks of what it must be like to feel skin on skin, to rub hers against his.

A moment later, the fuzzy feeling begins to fade. She’s vaguely aware of it at first, how it slowly recedes as if seeping out of an open vent in her brain. Then the sensation of loss comes faster, like a small quantity of water violently circling a drain before it vanishes altogether.

She stiffens. Then she stills in his arms.

Master Ben steps back, only an inch, and takes her by the shoulders.

She tries to tug away reflexively.

“No.”

It’s all he says, but the word stops her cold. She shivers.

“We’re not done yet.”

Rhea finds that she can’t quite bring herself to speak—nor does it necessarily seem a particularly wise idea—as he snaps his fingers at someone to her right.

“Bring a blanket, one of the cylindrical pillows, and my bag.”

His gaze turns back to her.

“Stay," he orders.

He steps around her, moving over to the bench.

She flushes, little sparks of anger threatening to light something inside her. She remembers who he is now—his arrogance, that unwavering self-assuredness—and cracks her jaw. She doesn’t want to obey. The thought of the crowd behind her keeps her rooted, though, far more than his command does. She thinks too of how hard he spanked her the first time; she’s not trying to put on yet another show for them.

Rhea hears mechanical noises come from behind her, the sounds of metal joints moving and of locks clicking to hold them in place.

The submissive Ben ordered around—a trainee named Uzuru—returns then. Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as he hands Ben a blanket and pillow before gingerly setting a medium leather duffle at the Dom’s feet.

When dismissed, he disappears into the nebulous group of clubgoers as quickly as he appeared.

“Come.”

She almost jumps. Choking down another tempting bout of annoyance at being commanded like a dog, she turns. The blanket has been laid out across the bulk of the bench, now configured differently. Its height has been adjusted; two parallel slabs of padded leather towards one end are now forked, split apart. A spring-loaded bar bridges the gap between them, metal pin keeping the width set in place.

Rhea slides her jaw to one side but nevertheless walks the few feet needed to close the distance.

He looks pointedly at her; his expression all but outright signals that whatever is coming next is non-negotiable.

She slides her jaw back into place, grinds her teeth slightly. Her eyes jump between the duffle—a smooth, rich brown, apparently made with some real craftmanship—and the similarly colored eyes of the Dom.

“Is that how you transport the bodies?”

She can't help but spit it out at him.

His eyes narrow ever so slightly. It's if he’s reading some kind of fine print she can't see.

“Is it always your impulse to make trouble for yourself when you feel nervous?”

She frowns.

A moment passes between them.

“Speak.”

She looks away, then back.

“I… No?”

It comes out sounding defensive; dishonest. It's clear that he knows it too.

“Ah, you do, because then you control part of outcome.” He clicks his tongue dismissively. “Not this time.”

It pisses her off more than if he had just hit her.

“Now you will mount the equipment,” he says, gesturing with an open hand. “Lay on your stomach.”

Rhea looks at her feet. They betray her, ushering her another few steps to the bench. She hooks a leg over, straddles it, keenly aware of how the position exposes her ass. She reaches to place her wrists along the V of the forked section of the bench.

“Wrong direction.”

She blinks, looks up. “Sorry?”

“Wrong direction. Those are for your legs.”

Her eyes must have dilated a little since a small smirk appears at the edge of his lips—lips, she notes, that are too large for a man, too plush, yet somehow look totally correct alongside the rest of his features.

She hesitates.

He doesn’t allow it.

“Now, trainee, or I’ll flip you around and spread your legs myself. Then I’ll have the additional opportunity to reassess whether they should be open wider to me.”

The muscles in her arms flex a little; she moves quickly to slide off the side and re-mount. She grasps each side of the bench, trying to stabilize arms that tremble a little, and stretches out each leg such that each knee finds purchase on either fork of the bench.

She closes her eyes at the slight shame of being on her hands and knees for him, publicly, legs spread apart.

“Good,” he says, walking over. “Down.”

Rhea lowers herself—this time her arms do wobble—until she rests fully flush to the bench. She turns her head so that she lays on her right cheek, preferring not to face the people watching.

Too much.

“The blanket is there so that you didn’t have to lay down onto cold leather. Generous, aren’t I?” He waits a moment, then prompts. “Thank me.”

His voice manages to sound seductive, consuming, even when she hates the words it speaks.

“Thank you, Sir," she says quietly.

“For what.”

“For your thoughtfulness.” 

“Now string both parts together.”

She suppresses the urge to roll her eyes, tamps down the large part of her that wants to respond with obvious annoyance in her voice.

“Thank you, Sir, for your thoughtfulness.”

He seems satisfied.

“You’re so welcome.”

He moves so that he stands right by her left side. A small shiver rolls through her body.

“Hips up.”

She moves slightly so she can look over her shoulder.

He holds the pillow with his left hand at one end of it.

“What?”

“What, Sir. Raise your hips up.”

Rhea grits her teeth together, turns to look straight ahead with resignation, and raises her hips slightly.

Master Ben slides the pillow under her hips, keeping them propped up even when she rests her weight on it.

She locks her jaw down even harder when he walks between her legs and wraps both large hands around her hips, fingers grabbing to keep the pillow in place beneath her. Then he pulls her down the bench several inches, readjusting her as he likes.

It isn’t lost on her that now her hips rest over the last inches of the bench, her cunt just off the edge. All he has to do to expose her clit, to slide inside her, is pull her panties aside.

Fuck.

“Very nice. That will do well, I think.”

He straightens up, back no longer bent somewhere over her.

“Stay still.”

She does as she’s told, unmoving, unwilling to take the risk of whatever he might do if she doesn’t.

The cool leather of a band slides around one ankle. He pulls it tight to her skin, then slides a finger to either side of her ankle, ensuring enough clearance before buckling the strap. He does the same with the other ankle, securing her down.

He repeats this process with bands closing around her thighs; a thicker one closes around her midsection, from above the curve of her ass to her lower stomach.

He secures another band just above her breasts, stretching across and covering her shoulder blades.

Warm hands close around each of her wrists then. He guides them to rest on the very edge of the bench on either side of her head. Then he buckles them down.

She gives a test shove and finds that she can’t move—at all.

“Looks good,” he remarks, self-righteous, on her failure to lift off the surface.

Rhea curses him silently. She flexes her fingers, then her toes, savoring the last bit of free mobility that she has left.

The sound of a zipper draws her attention back to him. He squats near her head, rifles through the bag.

Master Ben pulls a nondescript package out, turns it over in his hands, reads something on the back. Then he holds the plastic up to her, looking between something on her and something on the label.

He seems to decide against whatever it is, returning it to the bag.

He does this again a moment later, again holding the packaging up to her, right near her jaw. He hums once, glances between her and the item one last time.

“This one should fit nicely.”

He tosses it onto the top of the bag, rising to his full height.

Then he leans over her and, gentler than she would have expected, gathers her hair. He collects most of it in his left hand, uses his thumb and forefingers to brush a few strands from her face.

“Thank you.”

She hardly meant to say it: it was just one of those things that came out, this time nearly a whisper.

He hums in acknowledgement, tying her hair into a loose ponytail bun high on the back of her scalp.

She takes a deep breath when he turns back to the bag. Maybe this isn’t so awful after all.

She hears plastic packaging popping, watches then as he tosses the case aside.

When he turns back to her, he’s holding it in his right hand: a ball gag.

“No,” she hears herself say. “No.”

The Dom huffs before squatting again, this time balancing only on the balls of his feet. Strong.

“Rhea, do you get to say no to me?”

She swallows. “Only with my safeword.”

“That’s right. I’ll be giving you something to hold to replace your safeword throughout this scene. We’ll practice that in a minute. Now,” he murmurs, leveling with her, “Beg me to gag you.”

Her eyes go a little wide. “I—”

“Rhea. Beg me to gag you.”

She struggles against the nervous shiver that nearly shakes through her. She swallows hard.

“Please, Sir. Please gag me.”

“Mhm," he hums in response, considering. "Why?”

She gawks at him for a moment.

“Um. Because I keep talking back, Sir.”

“And?”

She resents that she already knows the last part of the answer.

“And because you want to, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He gives her a nod of approval, and though he doesn’t smile, she can tell the approval is genuine. “Open your mouth for me.”

She does, a little hesitant. Initially, she doesn’t open wide enough. The ball, seemingly some kind of rubber, first rests against her teeth. She opens wider, feeling somehow more vulnerable in this act of submission than in having her legs spread, and he slides the ball in so it rests just behind her teeth.

“That looks like the right size,” he murmurs, running a finger over each side of her jaw. “Good.”

He stands for a moment, arches over her, and pulls the strap tight.

The first twinge of true fear shoots through her.

“Push with your tongue.”

He buckles the strap when the ball no longer starts to pop out.

Ben moves to rest on one knee next to her.

She feels herself quiver in the restraints, no longer feeling nearly as confident in her decision to come here let alone agree to be a trainee. She must have been out of her mind, and—and now—

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, softly, only for her ears. “Shhh. I know.”

He swipes a small tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

His touch feels so good, so needed.

He strokes her cheek.

He doesn’t look concerned, doesn’t look sympathetic, but his tone suggests genuine empathy. Understanding.

“There’s nothing you can do wrong like this, Rhea. All the control rests with me now. You know I can take whatever I want, and I will. Rest easy knowing that you’ll do nothing but please me now.”

Some increasingly silent part of her hates that she actually finds comfort in the words—that she finds her powerlessness reassuring, even.

She blinks back the remaining tears.

Master Ben puts two thin, metal bars in her hands.

“These will substitute for your safeword. I want you to use your safeword if you need it. Do this by dropping one or both of the bars.” He pauses. “Show me now that you can.”

She releases them from her grip; each clangs loudly on the floor.

“Good girl.”

He places them back in her hands, closing her palms over them.

“Whether you drop them deliberately or because you're overwhelmed to hold them anymore, everything will stop immediately, and I will check with you verbally. Do you understand me?”

She nods, punctuated by a single sniffle. The last of the tears dry up.

“Good girl. And Rhea, do know that most subs will use their safeword at least once over the course of their tenure in a club like this. There is nothing wrong with using your safeword. It is not a disappointment. I want you to use it if you think you need it. Do not hesitate. In fact, I will punish you after you recover if I think you should have used your safeword and you did not. Do you understand me?”

She nods again.

“Very good.” He looks over her body, completely unrushed, unashamed to gaze at what’s his.

When his eyes find hers again, she shivers at the intimacy of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding almost reverent. “Especially like this.”

It takes her by surprise.

She blinks.

With that, he stands.

She breathes through her nose, tries not to shake too badly.

This is happening no matter what.

She thought she would have fight in her, thought she would feel at least slightly more in control. Instead, she feels completely stripped.

She can feel her heartbeat in her clit.

“I think we’re ready now.”

60. shuffle off to buffalo (1933)

release date: july 8th, 1933

series: merrie melodies

director: rudolf ising and friz freleng

starring: johnny murray (old man/little boy), the rhythmettes (singing babies)

an early 30s baby bottleneck! an old man is in charge of sending storks to deliver babies to their rightful parents, and we get an inside look at the process.

a flock of storks are carrying their weight in babies, their wings flapping to a jazzy and addicting underscore of “shuffle off to buffalo” (another song from the musical 42nd street). the animation is done particularly well, especially when more storks emerge from the windows of a tower, flying in opposite directions and overlapping with each other. one of the storks flies straight towards the camera, a baby crying and opening its mouth, segueing us into the next scene.

writing in a book, sitting at a messy desk with papers strewn about and telephones galore is an old man. he takes a few calls, the phones seldom providing any relief (like a less frenetic, more orderly version of daffy answering all the phones in baby bottleneck) as he answers “okay” over and over again.

one call in particular grabs his attention. we don’t hear what the other man is saying except for garbled nonsense, but the old man replies “yes sir! what a man!” in delight. he grabs a stray paper off his desk and reads it, which says “please send us twins. hopefully, mr. + mrs. nanook of the north”, the paper dated july 1933 and sourced from the north pole. nanook from the north is in reference to the 1922 documentary of the same name.

the man shuffles his way to a freezer, opening it to reveal two inuit babies inside wearing parkas. funny gag, would be funnier if the babies weren’t so... stereotypical. unfortunately, there’s a lot of that happening in this cartoon. well, not a LOT, but any amount of stereotyping feels like a lot. he places the babies in two swaddles carried by a stork, one labeled “upper birth” and one labeled “lower birth”. the stork takes off and leaves the man to his duties.

he reads another paper, this time in hebrew (i’m sure you can see where this is going). he can’t decipher it, scratching his head, and places it in a basket attached to a pulley system above him. the basket is sent to the “stock room” and a stereotypical jewish baby with curly hair and a big nose returns to him. safe to say i don’t think i need to explain why that’s not good.

the man stamps the baby’s diaper, deeming him kosher. of course, this is a very opportune time to launch into the eponymous “shuffle off to buffalo”. the baby carries on the song, dancing his way into a nursery where baby backup singers provide vocals—including a baby caricature of maurice chevalier. very catchy song, another earworm for the collection!

similarities between this and baby bottleneck just keep on coming! we get a glimpse of the “baby factory” if you will, run by elves(?). it’s parallel almost exactly to the one in baby bottleneck, same gags and inventions. raymond scott’s “powerhouse” is sorely missed! in 4 more years he’d release it, and the world would never be the same since.

babies are thrown into a washing machine and dried via roller towel and a nozzle connected to a fan. talcum powder is grinder onto them, much like a pepper grinder, and there’s a bar that flips the babies onto their stomachs so they can be powdered once more (same gag in baby bottleneck, though the bar flips them over so they can get swaddled). paper towels are substituted for diapers (that’s a lawsuit waiting to happen!) and are stapled shut with a staple gun. man, i think even porky and daffy had safer safety practices, even though they did almost get ripped to shreds in their own factory. at least they had actual diapers! to make it even worse, one of the babies cries, and an elf throws it into the washing machine again and leaves his post! there’s also a scene (again parallel exactly to baby bottleneck) where the babies are fed milk through a crank operated tube, like a gas station. finally, the babies are dropped off in bassinets and sent out to be delivered. do all this and you’ll have your very own factory made baby in no time!

the babies waiting to be delivered are fussy, screaming and crying. one of the elves snaps and insists “WELL, WHADDAYA WANT? WHADDAYA WANT?” of course, the babies cry for their hero, eddie cantor! this totally threw me for a loop. i love it! even if you don’t know who he is, the fact that the babies will only be pacified by a celebrity is a hilarious concept in itself.

to make matters even funnier, an elf make his way into the nursery and takes off his mask (you meddling kids!), and it’s none other than eddie cantor. our hero! he sings “shuffle off to buffalo” call and response with a group of babies. very entertaining to watch and listen to, and just full of absurd goodness.

one of cantor’s lines include “i can impersonate ed wynn,” and sure enough he turns into a caricature of radio star turned actor ed wynn, warbling horribly off key. we then get our fill of MORE stereotypes, including a stereotypical chinese baby singing some lines and a pair of blackface caricatured babies dancing offscreen.

one of the elves pull a curtain, and behind it cantor is playing the piano, complete with an elven orchestra. i adore how bizarre this is! not nearly as bizarre as baby bottleneck, but also equally as bizarre in terms of concept. i don’t know about you, but when i think of babies, i think of 1930s radio personality and singer eddie cantor. don’t you?

there isn’t much else to describe—cantor continues to play and the babies get a kick out of it. the show ends and we fade out as the curtain draws to a close on cantor.

obviously, this cartoon had a fair amount of stereotypes, which were quite cringeworthy and awkward. didn’t age well at all. but aside from that (with that acknowledged and considered), this was a good cartoon! upbeat, bizarre, and swingy. of course, i MUCH prefer baby bottleneck, which is a lot better in execution, in animation, in practically everything—but it’s also tied for my favorite cartoon of all time, so i have my biases. this was a good effort, though! another merrie melody that didn’t really feel sentimental, just silly and bizarre. let’s put these celebrity caricatures in here for the hell of it, huh? i’d recommend it! “shuffle off to buffalo” should be criminal for how much of an earworm it is. if you do watch it, obviously view at your discretion with a few of the stereotyped babies.

link!

Liz and the Blue Bird thoughts

Kyoani as usual comes in blasting with that good good character animation. This is an excellent movie. Let’s talk about Nozomi and Mizore’s relationship

At the start of the movie, the disconnect in their relationship is highlighted. Nozomi is always leading and Nozomi always following several steps behind, but they don’t interact much during this, just walk. Mizore is always looking at Nozomi but doesn’t reach out for her.

The first half of their story is entirely from Mizore’s perspective, and from there we see that Nozomi is Mizore’s utmost priority. To Mizore nothing else matters except Nozomi, she’s co-dependent. The first scene of the movie is Mizore waiting for Nozomi. Mizore here isn’t interested in forming bonds with anyone else. She doesn’t quite pay attention to anyone else and rejects all offers to socialize. And it should be notable that many people in the film care for her and and repeatedly try to reach out to her, from her underclassmen to her teachers. From Mizore’s perspective is seems like Mizore cares about their relationship than Nozomi does, with Mizore grasping onto anything Nozomi seems remotely interested such as the story of Liz and the Blue Bird. It is very clear that their morning practice time alone together is the most precious part of the day for Mizore. 

Their dynamic reads as someone crushing on their friend when that friend doesn’t see them in that way. Nozomi occupies a sort of Manic Pixie Dream Girl type role in her life. The cheerful Nozomi brings light, love, and life to the shy Mizore’s life. However this is Mizore’s skewed perspective and as the film progresses we see more and more hints that Nozomi is also troubled.

Running parallel to Nozomi and Mizore is the that of Liz and Blue Bird from their concert piece of the same name. Birds flying is a recurring motif of the series, both visually and thematically. The Blue Bird is caught between her desire for freedom and her love for Liz. Liz eventually makes the choice for her so she can fly freely, and Blue Bird who would have stayed out of love leaves out of respect for Liz’s decision. 

Mizore initially see’s herself in the position of Liz and Nozomi as the blue bird, this strange yet wonderful miracle in her life. She feels she is holding Nozomi back yet can not bear to let her go. As the film progresses though and we increasingly see from Nozomi’s perspective, she starts to seem less like some mystical beast and more like a person. Both Nozomi and Mizore are holding back from one another, not telling the other what is on their mind. We only hear of their worries about their relationship when they talk about it with other people. Both feel inferior to the other. 

It is when they flip their perspectives and see Mizore as the blue bird and Nozomi as Liz that the film reaches the turning point it has been building up to the whole first half and Nozomi becomes the deutagonist because they are both Liz and the are both blue birds. As much as Mizore felt she was holding Nozomi back, Nozomi felt she was stifling Mizore’s musical ability. 

Interwoven in the story of the relationship of these two girls is a story about growing up and toeing the line to adulthood. The anxiety of both Nozomi and Mizore comes across as very real. Not quite knowing what you want or what to do with your life is relatable. Going to music school with Mizore feels very safe for Nozomi, its the choice that would lead to the least change, as Mizore would still be there and they would still be playing brass. However Nozomi at some level recognize that her desire to keep the status quo does not mesh with reality. Mizore is headed on a different path from her and its hard for her to accept that.

When Mizore finally plays the oboe without Nozomi in mind and brings the room to tears, Nozomi now must come to terms with her attempts to keep Mizore with her. It is in the aftermath that the girls have their first real conversation with each other, confessing all the parts of each other that they like while hugging.

There’s some real significance to this scene (its also when I started crying for the second time). Beyond being their first open communication with each other, this scene is one of the many mirroring scenes in the film. Here Mizore gives Nozomi an I Love You Hug which Nozomi reciprocates. This contrasts earlier where Mizore asks for one and Nozomi rejects her. Another mirroring set is how the two of them seeing each other within the roles of Lizes and Blue Birds changes. Then there is the late book as when while trying to feel connected to Nozomi, Mizore borrows a book from the library on Liz and the Blue Bird. At the end of the film Mizore is once again returning a book late but this time Nozomi is there to study for college entrance exams. Through the film a flying bird is repeatedly seen around the school, always alone. Near the end of the film two birds are seen flying together in an open sky. This furthers how at the beginning of the film Nozomi and Mizore aren’t connecting while by the end their relationship is stronger. This relationship development is seen strongest in how at the beginning the two are walking to school with Mizore just trailing behind Nozomi while at the end they leave school together discussing what snack they want for the day. With the stinger hinting perhaps Nozomi reciprocates Mizore’s feelings.