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#absolutely ridiculous how many cartoons have been fucked over because of this bullshit
puripurin · 2 months
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— Recently, well, with in the past 10 years, the government has been trying to integrate humanoid monsters into society. This was because many of these monsters had unique traits that ended up being very beneficial to many people in power, and by integrating them into society, more of these specimens would appear and join government jobs.
So they tried pushing out incentives to integrate into society, such as paying people to live in an apartment building with them. That's where you come in. You have a stable job, but guess who was a pain in your ass?
Your crazy and unprofessional landlord.
She had tried all sorts of stunts to you and the other tenants. On several occasions, she would lock all the tenants out of the building. If any of the bins were overflowing or litter was on the ground, she would raise the bills by random amounts every two weeks, then get mad if you were to call out her bullshit. Nobody wanted to say anything because the last tenants were slapped with an NDA and got threatened by here with a chainsaw.
You couldn't even leave before due to how ridiculously expensive she made it if you were to break the leasing contract. So you had to save up for the past 2 years. Sometimes, you felt like a cartoon character living there with the amount of antics that happened there.
So that's why you immediately took the offer to live with monsters in the building. Plus, it was a really good deal because there were several accommodations and incentives to live there, so you broke off your lease and paid the stupid fees. So finally, you could leave that insane woman's place.
Now you live in Terico Hights, a stress and mad woman free apartment where you live with monstrous neighbors who are literally more humane than your ex-landlord.
And now that you've been here for a couple of months now, you can officially say, you think that your harpy neighbor likes you.
He was one of the original monsters who was assigned to live here and has been living here ever since. His name was Nirico, and his 4 year old disabled daughter, Nira, lives with him. The reason why the mother isn't in the picture is because she literally nearly mauled the poor girl because, apparently, the mother thought that by having a female child, Nirico wouldn't love her anymore and took drastic measures.
You were well acquainted with his child after you were the only one the building who could take care of his child when he was going to get inspected. At first, both him and his daughter were weary of you, but his daughter quickly warmed up once you gave her some mixed nuts.
Nira was absolutely cute, and her scars just made her unique. Over time, you were able to give her kisses on her forehead and brush her hair, which slowly turned into feathers, just like most harpy species, and gently brushing her wing feathers with a toothbrush. Nira absolutely loved doing these things with you and constantly asked her father to join in because it felt really nice.
Nirico was extremely distrustful at first, and when you were alone, threatened you. So you didn't get on the right foot, to say the least. You and him would constantly argue with each other when Nira was around, and the tension between you two was enormous.
That was until one day when you came out of Nira's room after she fell asleep and saw Nirico drinking so much. He was heavily intoxicated and was babbling to you before it once again spiraled into an argument that turned into a heated make-out session, which turned into you both going into his room and fucking like animals.
This turned a switch on in him and started being near your side constantly. It was so obvious that his daughter and neighbors called him out on it, but he didn't care. And he, just like his daughter, wanted to brush your hair and brush his hair and feathers.
When you mention it to your neighbors, they only look at each other with a knowing look before saying congratulations, which left you confused.
Soon enough, those days when Nira wasn't there turned into the times when you'd both go at it like rabbits. After those sessions, he'd give you kisses, clean you up, and brush your hair.
When you try to bring a male co-worker, he'd get aggressive, and you'd have to apologize to him for Nirico's behavior when he eventually leaves. Every time he does this, you'd try to scold him, but he'd always corner you with his arms saying,
"Well, who are you to scold me when you brought a man in my territory. I should be the one scolding and punishing you, my dove."
You really want to know how to get out of this situation, but too bad he'd already marked you as his mate and made your apartment his territory.
And they didn't say that humans and monsters having relationships are illegal, so there should be no fuss, dove.
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Idk what to say. 213 followers. I am flabbergasted. I don't know what to say. Oh mah gawd. I have no idea what to do for a special, so give a reccs and i have so much stuff i need to write. I am so grateful that yall enjoy my shit. Thank you! (Ps, nit proofread, also i js wanted a dilf harpy, sorry if the beginning doesn't make any sense mb)
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antidrumpfs · 3 years
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TO ALL OF YOU THAT RESISTED:
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Cartoon by Dan Wasserman
To all of you that resisted: I salute you!!! To those who instinctively knew well before even the 2016 election that Don (The Con) Trump was a corrupt fraud, and in some fashion resisted his corrupt presiduncey, you chose well but know this: WE HAVE ONLY BOUGHT TIME UNTIL THE NEXT GREAT WAVE OF STUPID CRASHES DOWN UPON US.
The fight is not over. Whether it's voter suppression and the right to vote itself, the environment, gun legislation, education, police reform, or hundreds of other issues your representatives should be hearing from you on a regular basis. If you have Republicon representatives it may seem futile to call, write, or email them but it's still important to do so. If you have progressive representatives and you are certain that they already support your views, it's still important to call, write, and email them as well to let them know you support their efforts.
The bottom line is we had an illegitimate presidunce skilled in the art of piggery, literally a lifelong proponent of piggery, or in other words an individual who lived his entire life wallowing his pig snout in the pig trough with only the short lapses necessary to come up for air. I'm absolutely certain that Trump was blindsided by the resistance he encountered as our illegitimate presidunce.
I truly believe had there not been such intense resistance by so many the circumstances we face at this moment in time would be much worse. Make no mistake the intense resistance he faced helped keep him more in check than he would have been had no one called out his lies, criminality, and incompetence. The fact is we didn’t just dodge a bullet we dodged several bullets in the course of Trump’s orange reign and one need look no further then the January 6th capital insurrection for an example of what this megalomanical criminal was capable of.
Late night talk show hosts with incredible wealth risk much by nightly lampooning this ridiculous dictator wannabe orange clown. In particular Stephen Colbert and Jimmy Kimmel deserve mention and were like light at the end of the tunnel during that dark time. I hope someone has the ability to do a documentary on the mainstream media resistance that somehow was able to dominate late night television. Keep in mind there had to have been resistance and push back by some of the network heads and local affiliates to much of the nightly dressing down of Putin's puppet. The mainstream networks are owned by the wealthy who shy away from controversy or rocking the status quo in general. I would love to see at least some of what went on behind the scenes regarding the lines drawn between what was allowed and what wasn't.
I am confident that Trump has all but assured that he will never be reappraised or seen in a better light at some future date as some presidents are by historians because he left us with such a treasure trove of recorded evidence of his incompetence and traitorous behavior. If anything he will be regarded in the future as even more toxic than he is now as further revelations of his criminality are made public. We have only seen the tip of the iceberg with regard to how low this malignant turd was willing to stoop. Have patience while waiting to see if this country is even capable of holding this goon for once in his life accountable for his actions, as well as those family members and the sycophants that aided and abetted his criminality. 
For the time being take solace as I do in the fact that this corrupt buffoon and his entire family are sorry that he ever ran for president. All the bravado and tough guy mob boss talk to the contrary from Trump is just part of his usual con “art of the deal” bullshit. I am absolutely certain we have only seen the tip of the iceberg with regard to his crime families criminality and much more will be exposed. What we have already seen is more than enough to have exposed him for the fraud that he is and has always been. 
Make no mistake had he never ran for president Trump and the entire crime family could still be doing what they do best: playing the big con, cheating others, including the IRS, and sucking up to Russian oligarchs with hundreds of schemes. He was the self described “KING OF DEBT” and also has previously described his entire life as “ONE BIG BET.” Now I predict post the capital insurrection treason finale (perhaps his biggest bet yet) we will see the entire Trump shithouse come down. Once again write, call, and email your representatives to demand that investigations into the insurrection, as well as the Trump administrations handling of the pandemic continue, and also that the complete unredacted Mueller report be released.
It seems to be the ultimate irony that someone that was the ultimate narcissist and who thought so highly of himself his entire rancid life will now go down in history as one of  the, if not THE, biggest bungle fucks in human history. - Antidrumpfs
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TGF Thoughts: 3x10--The One About the End of the World
I did it, I wrote recaps for all of season 3. 
Oooh, this ep starts off with the credits.
This is the season 3 finale, but it’s not written by the Kings. Maybe they were busy with Evil at this point? As I’ve mentioned before, Evil is very good. I am NOT a fan of horror, but Evil works for me for several reasons. If you haven’t seen it, you might be imagining it’s full of jumpscares and gore. It certainly has its fair share of jumpscares and gore, but they’re not the point. The show’s definition of evil isn’t just demons… it’s radicalized misogyny and slavery and racial inequalities. And, as you might expect from a show written by the Kings, evil manifests itself in misuses of technology quite frequently. 
Honestly, I think I laugh more than I cover my eyes while watching. And, to be clear, I laugh because the show is funny. It’s quirky and bizarre, serious enough to be dramatic but light enough to be watchable.
It’s also got a central myth-arc (way more serialized and puzzlebox-y than TGW/TGF/Braindead) that’s as complicated as you want it to be. If you want to look for the hidden puzzle pieces (literal puzzle pieces!) you can. If you want to be an attentive but univested viewer, you’ll be able to follow the arc just fine. The arc itself is pretty simple and the Kings use recurring guest stars to build a web that pays off over the course of the season. So if you’re used to following a TV show with lots of guest stars-- and you all are, since you’re viewers of TGF-- the mytharc isn’t going to demand a lot of effort to follow. 
Speaking of guest stars, you WILL recognize at least one familiar face per episode. And if you pay attention to the credits, you’ll recognize the names behind the scenes, too. I love it when showrunners collaborate with the same people over and over-- it makes me think they’re good to work with and look out for their friends. 
Just finishing up the most recent season of Younger before I jump into writing this and there was a Liza/Charles scene giving me MAJOR Alicia/Peter in Death of a Client vibes, mostly because of her hairdo. Then I realized: both scenes were DEFINITELY filmed in the same place. I love it. 
Confession: I don’t actually remember anything about this ep, except for the very end.
Kurt was working from home! He was prepping for 2020.
Oh we saw Julius leave the firm to become a judge? And here I thought it was a spoiler he was in a robe in the s4 trailer.
There is talk of making Lucca a partner! Yes! There’s also discussion of someone named Rosalyn, who I’m sure is great but also, have you met Lucca Quinn? But in all seriousness, if the writers want me to truly believe there’s another associate who can rival Lucca, they have to show it to me.
I do believe the partner who says Rosalyn would be better for the culture of the firm than Lucca, though. Lucca hasn’t shown herself to be that invested in getting to know her colleagues (aside from the two white girls), and I think (not sure though) Rosalyn is the one we’ve seen speaking up the last several episodes. 
Jay is going to dig into Book Club more, and I cannot wait until this is gone.
Cookies shouldn’t have photorealistic faces on them. 
Did they REALLY hire white guys for the mailroom because that consultant said to?
There is a very angry former client of RBL asking for more money from Julius. Blum put him up to it. Go away, Blum! 
Now there’s a lawsuit to make it seem like RBL is exploiting all the police brutality victims they’re represented. This is part of Blum’s plot.
Diane accidentally answers a call from Marissa, so Marissa gets to hear all the gossip about salaries and partnerships.
Now there’s weird lightning. Not in the clear yet! 
Oh RIGHT, there was that FaceTime defect. I forgot about it. 
Lucca doesn’t want to know what Marissa heard, but she’s happy to hear more once Marissa’s started the conversation. 
Is it possible for a man to say “ladies, we’ll get to you” in a work setting without sounding sexist? I don’t think it is.
Casually sexist judge likes Blum. 
Oh hello Maia. Blum says Maia became “disgusted and quit” after seeing RBL’s methods. Well, that’s a lie. You’d know it was a lie even if we hadn’t seen Maia get fired, because in order for Maia to know the firm’s methods she would have to do work. (OKAY I WILL STOP BUT THIS IS THE LAST EPISODE WHERE I CAN MAKE JOKES AND I’M GONNA MISS MY PUNCHING BAG A LITTLE BIT)
Maia is using her mom’s name and carrying the portfolio Diane gave her, just to throw Diane off.  
Diane confronts her about it and asks if this is retribution. Maia says it’s just “lawyering.”  Maia could have gone to any other firm-- like, even Canning’s firm-- and I would’ve thought she had a point. I would say trying to throw Diane off is mean but no worse than what others have done. But Blum is so hateful and malicious Maia has no ground to stand on. 
Maia says she’s coming after RBL because they’ve done wrong. She sounds like she’s convinced herself-- or maybe she’s gotten that good at lying. (It is telling that so many former clients would be willing to join this suit, though-- Maia isn’t wrong about that)
Show title spoken alert!
I am pretty sure the Diane/Maia scene right there is one I would have ripped Diane to shreds for if it had been her vs Alicia, and Blum wasn’t involved, because Maia’s being very practical (Blum is out to screw you; I am here for the clients) and Diane is on her high horse. Hell, maybe I’d even take Maia’s side if we got Blum out of the picture. But I hate him. And Maia’s on this case because Blum said so. She’s running his firm and working with all his clients; this one just happens to have a way to spin as doing good. 
Kurt has to intro 45 and is drafting a speech. Diane doesn’t know yet, so she thinks his scribbled “the last two years have been amazing/brought me a new optimism” are about her. She finds out the real meaning for the scribbles and leaves the room.
Blum’s here again. I hate him. 
Also RBL may have caught Blum and turned him in to the ACDB but Blum got disbarred all on his own by doing disbarrable shit repeatedly and knowingly. 
Lightning balls. Weird. 
Lucca asks Jay how she’s thought of. I feel like if you have to ask that question you’re probably not thought of as an integral part of the culture. This is a smart thing to show as Lucca’s weak spot. She’s never liked making friends. Lucca also worries she’s “not black enough” for the firm.
“Everyone likes you. Just, a lot of the associates think you never hang out,” Jay says. “So it’s high school? I don’t care about being popular. Who has time to hang out?” Lucca responds. That’s the problem, right there! Maybe this isn’t such a thing at RBL, but where I work, the partners always make a point of greeting everyone, sticking around at happy hours, etc. Part of their job is to create the culture. RBL doesn’t seem to have that culture, but I absolutely understand why some of the partners want it to. 
And the “not black enough” comment is coming at least in part from Lucca’s tendency to surround herself with all the white characters when she does socialize. 
“I do not have to prove myself to anyone, or perform what they think black should look like. This is 2019. I’m not playing this stupid fucking game,” Lucca responds. She’s right, I think, but I would also be curious to hear other perspectives. This situation feels pretty nuanced to me in that I think it can simultaneously be true that Lucca can act however she wants and shouldn’t be judged or typed for it AND that there’s a somewhat strong case against Lucca as a partner because of her engagement with her coworkers.
Does the fact that I like Evil!Maia so much mean I secretly liked Maia all this time??? 
Jay asks Marissa to help him create more diverse happy hours. And then it’s time for them to confront Book Club. Jay’s got some intel on Rochelle, who’s legit enough to have done polling for Eli. Overcharging a client 30% for a focus group seems like maybe not a big enough deal to blackmail someone with, but Jay tries!
Rochelle isn’t having it and tells Jay and Marissa, basically, that she’s going to escalate things. 
Oh there are very many guns in Diane and Kurt’s bedroom suite thing. 
Diane winds up writing Kurt’s speech for him by bullshiting. Kurt knows it’s bullshit. Diane’s writing a parody but it’s also not parody at all. “A parody but it’s also not parody at all’ is also true of the mindfuck that’s been the last four years. 
Jay ends up doing drawings of cartoon animals to be used in court because the judge can’t understand anything complicated. One cartoon is Judy Giraffe, who may share a name with the toy Andrew Wiley’s kids had in late season 6 (but I’m too lazy to look it up and see if I’m right about that).
This also may just be Zootopia. 
LOL there’s ASMR happening now. I could explain why but it’s more fun if I don’t. 
This scene is hilariously over the top. 
Maia was 12 in 2000. I feel like that’s inconsistent with other timelines we’ve been given but whatever. 
Lucca awkwardly tries to socialize. Lucca immediately misspeaks by saying she thinks Obama probably wished that for one day he didn’t have to be “the black president” and her colleagues freeze up and push back.
Marissa then shows up and the scene ends. Awkward. 
Now Blum’s hired actors to be disruptive in court. Ridiculous. I hate Blum. That said, this isn’t really any lower than Diane’s ASMR shenanigans. 
Blum is singing now, goodbye. 
I FORGOT ABOUT THE CORRUPT JUDGE ADRIAN WAS FUCKING.
So much COTW in this ep. Remember how it used to have meaning when the regulars got called to the stand? Like, I know this is technically character driven drama but it’s nowhere near as engaging as last episode’s internal investigations.
Rosalyn comes into Lucca’s office: she knows they’re up for the same partnership, and understands that’s why Lucca came to drinks. Rosalyn was informed by one of the partners, and as much as I like Lucca, Rosalyn is making quite a good case for herself by handling herself so professionally here. She comes to Lucca once she realizes the partners are pitting them against each other, “because that’s what people do to the black girls.” I want to hear more of what Rosalyn is about to say, but she’s cut off by BALL LIGHTNING. What the fuck? Now the power is out. 
Rosalyn thinks it’s the end times. The red skies do suggest that. Lucca is unconvinced. 
Diane pays Maia a visit. “So, you got what you wanted. A corner office,” Diane says. Had Maia expressed this wish? Or is Diane mocking her?
Maia says she knows what she’s getting with Blum, and “sometimes that’s better.” She isn’t wrong. But it’s BLUM. 
Diane offers Maia her job back. No, PARTNERSHIP at RBL. HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. It’s hilarious enough in isolation, but the thought of Maia getting partnership over Lucca or Rosalyn (who both seem very deserving) makes it even worse. I think half of their staff would quit if Maia was made partner. 
It’s more money and Maia is skeptical. She (wisely) guesses that she’d be forced out after six months, but Diane (has she talked to any of the other partners about this?) says that wouldn’t happen. “You’re trying to buy me out of my case,” Maia FINALLY realizes. Well, I guess it makes sense she’d believe she was actually deserving of a partnership after two years of half working. 
Diane says it’s also because she impressed Adrian. Lol, okay. If that’s what it takes to make the suit go away.
Maia says she’ll think about it and asks Diane if it’s weird that they’ve ended up in this spot. Diane says yes and smiles.
Blum overheard the whole thing, naturally. He tells Diane that Maia won’t go with her. Now he is singing. Why is he singing. Why won’t he stop singing.
Liz does not like that Adrian and Corrupt Judge are friends. Why is Corrupt Judge here?
Diane watches Kurt awkwardly avoid clapping while standing directly behind 45. It is very funny and Diane enjoys it. Kurt is then removed from the audience, which leads Diane to say “Kurt, my God, I love you.” The incident makes the news almost instantly.
This Good Fight short has the characters in it. I imagine there’s a non-zero chance we get an animated, musical S4 wrap up given that they had to halt production. 
It’s weird there’s a short that says the season is over, followed by another scene.
Lucca and Marissa discuss how Maia got the partnership offer. Why would Diane or any of the partners let that slip?! “Two black girls are up for the job and they give it to the white girl,” Lucca says. Marissa’s surprised she’s not angry, but Lucca explains-- she knows Maia’s not going to take it. Marissa thinks Maia will, but Lucca understands that Maia’s moved on. 
Lucca no longer cares about the partnership because she’s realized “the best thing is to not care.” It’s almost like she was friends with Season 7 Alicia, who said this like twice an episode. 
Then Marissa and Lucca drop acid in the office because the world is ending, I guess. 
Didn’t the s1 finale also do this end of the world thing? A less apocalyptic version.
I think this Diane and Adrian scene may be a callback to that finale.
Diane posits that love and hope will get us through the endtimes.
Aaaah the case is still happening but I’m SO CLOSE to being done with season 3. I still love what TGF is doing, but its central devices and plots for season 2 worked so much better.
RBL wins! Diane notes that Maia hasn’t responded to their offer. Does that mean someone is still considering giving Maia a fucking partnership even though the case is closed? HA. 
Maia points this out and Diane insists they really want Maia home. This is probably the worst judgment I’ve ever seen Diane have? She wants to bring her goddaughter who is three years out of law school on as a partner at her firm, OVER two extremely qualified black women? Even if Maia were truly the best lawyer ever, the optics alone are bad enough to make Maia a terrible choice.
Maia decides, instead, to head for D.C. with Blum. She gets in an elevator and sucks on a fentanyl lollipop, which, sure, why not? I think they offer her partnership purely so we the viewers can see she’s choosing to emulate Blum and she likes it. 
BYE BLUM!!!!!!!!!! BYE MAIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I won’t really miss either of you, but also, what am I going to write about when I can’t complain about Maia? 
And we’re back in the opening moments of the premiere, which, as it turns out, were a flashforward to this moment in which Kurt and Diane get SWATted seconds after Diane announces she’s happy and Kurt asks what could go wrong. I hope they’re both ok because I won’t be able to deal if they do anything to Kurt. (Or Diane but I’m less concerned about them killing her off lol.)
That’s a wrap! 
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sonicranticoot · 5 years
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About CTR, Money, and Both Together: Part 2
Continuing from part 1.
Somehow it has been brought to my attention many more things that just...don’t say any good things, any good things, about the situation of the game and possibly the entire Crash and Spyro franchises going forward. I’m known to keep a very positive image here and I want this to continue, but sometimes, life sucks and then you die. So yes, this one is a lot angrier than the one before. You got to let it all out sometimes.
First thing is how these are actually out now, and boy are they terrible. Not just the fact they exist, but you can make 2500 in about an hour each day with online play. Or just pay Activision (not Beenox) $2.49 for that. A lot of people have been talking about how ridiculously overpriced the bundle for the Probulot 2000 is, and that can take a while to grind out even for online players (I have the dearest sympathies for people who don’t have their console’s online service and are stuck with offline payrates). Or, you could just hand that nice old Activision marketer (not Beenox) $9.99 for coins that disappear as soon as you buy them. I remember years back when Capcom got major slack for selling people costumes in Street Fighter IV for $3.99 a pop. Except there, you got a costume for five characters, and each costume had ten palette swaps. And that’s not going back to before that game, where you could get those in games at the low, low price of being earned as an in-game reward like beating the game on a certain difficulty or whatever.
It just goes back to how it used to be. Crash Team Racing is a 20-year old classic game that had a wealth of content you did not have to pay a cent for past the initial purchase of the game. Some people may say, “well, nothing in the original CTR can be unlocked with microtransactions”, and although that may be correct, it is completely missing the point. Content shown heavily before launch, like all the characters from Crash Nitro Kart and the new karts taken from Tag Team Racing, the stuff that was used to show “hey, look, it’s a little more than just CTR”, that stuff is locked behind an in-game store that allows you to spend real money. That’s not even going into the people who want to put N. Tropy or his digital skin in the shop. I actually commend Beenox for putting in something that, unlike the Pit Stop, forces players to get better at the game to have in their possession. The whole thing takes some pride out of the game. It barely feels like it’s a reward for people who didn’t pay up anymore because now people can go out and buy it with real money. Maybe.
That goes back to the fucking Fortnite store layout. Yeah I know this shop was problematic before, but didn’t go into as much as detail on why it is. Let’s say someone wants that one special skin, they want to buy Crunch that badly, that special car, or paint job. The store is set up to force players to wait, or buy things to roll again and hope what they get shows up. And with the addition of microtransactions, now, you can brute force, but even that still doesn’t help you if the Pit Stop gods don’t feel like playing nice and that special skin you wanted is the very last one in rotation. Some people aren’t that patient. This especially goes for offline players who have to spend hours trying to spend up for even one item. This type of impatience leads to kids stealing daddy’s credit card and spending $1,300 on gambling in FIFA. That’s really where this whole shit stops being “optional”, and feels like a deliberate part of the game. Because it is. It is a deliberate decision made on Activision’s part to make a predatory store. The paid solution now exists to a problem they created, and said paid solution doesn’t even fucking work.
Yes. Some people saw microtransactions coming. Some of these people like the game. Others didn’t like it, and are rubbing it into the former’s face. That doesn’t actually solve the issue here. What is the issue is that they weren’t there. People played the game for over a month without them. All the reviews were out, they were great. YouTubers praised it, both Crash-oriented and otherwise. The ESRB didn’t have to put a warning on the box. It’s all nice and cozy.
Then they do this. I’ve seen the review bombing of Metacritic. I’ve seen many Youtubers who have loved the game before either turn against it, or just express endless disgust over it. The ESRB can’t even do their fucking job of warning people that they are in the game, because there are a lot of copies out there that don’t have the “contains in-game purchases” label on them without glancing at one sentence in size 2 text on the back of the box as if Activision is playing their own twisted game of “ok, how can we tell people they’re in, but in such a way they won’t know it”, so someone, let’s say said person has a gambling problem, can buy the game, hear the good word of mouth from people who played it when it did NOT have MTX, and all of a sudden, they found a game that can prey upon them. I mentioned last time Activision did not make the message clear to consumers. Activision doesn’t want their message clear not just to consumers (and that goes for all consumers, from kids, to people with impulse buying problems, to genuine gambling addicts), but ratings boards either.
In short, all that goodwill Activision built up with this game, Spyro Reignited, Crash N. Sane, it’s gone. Not all of it is. But denying it’s done a crippling blow to things would be foolish. This game has a ton of issues. They’re all still here. MTX are though. It doesn’t give me, or anyone, a reason to trust them about what they do with these franchises, because they aren’t immune to any of the MTX bullshit that regularly plagues Call of Duty or whatever. I like the Crash and Spyro games for many reasons, but one big thing is that their newest release were free of this shit, they were old school ways of making people sold on games: by being really, really good games. You payed for a game. It’s good. Simple. Sweet. To the point.
You know what? Like Crash Bandicoot and Spyro the Dragon, Activision’s own Call of Duty sold millions and reviewed very well when it didn’t have microtransactions as well. FIFA did too. Grand Theft Auto did as well. Mortal Kombat also did. Deus Ex did. 2K sports games did. Fallout did. Elder Scrolls did. Plants vs. Zombies did. Quality games make money by being that. Quality games. Who would’ve guessed. Obviously Activision didn’t make all these games. And that’s the problem. Crash isn’t even new to this shit, it’s just one of countless classic, acclaimed franchises now subjected to the scummiest predatory practices that again, were initially made for free-to-play games that didn’t cost a dime to start playing. You didn’t see these in console games because they weren’t build for that practice. Yes, they make money, but console games could again, make money in a way a F2P mobile game can not: straight-up buying the game.
One of the worst (that’s a drinking game at this point) things is that let’s say people do get the message: everything in CTR can be earned in-game, not all the hard to do at that, the MTX coin rates are terrible, and thus, most people don’t buy the MTX. As in 99% of people don’t buy MTX. But you have whales, that 1% of people who these types of business practices specifically are psychologically engineered to pander to, spending literal thousands of dollars on coins for a cartoon kart racer and Activision can get the idea from them and only them of how to make money. And those types of practices become more accepted because of this, rinse, lather, repeat. There’s no winning scenario except for not having them in the game.
In short, Activision is the single slimiest, greediest, dirtiest, most absolutely fucking disgusting money-lusting pig of a company in the video game business and I am very, very disappointed in how corrupting classic games and franchises with pure filth meant to destroy bank accounts has consumed the industry. Activision is obviously not the only company that does this, but I can’t say many of the others are willing to do things like lie to the people who’s job is to warn people about these things. Fuck. Straight. Off.
Let it be known despite all that I am still a big Crash fan. I love the game. I’m eagerly anticipating Beenox to confirm Pasadena as a playable racer, I want to see how Brio looks in the game as well as what kind of race track the game will see when he is introduced, I want to see the Spyro stuff, I want to see what kind of crazy costumes they make or old school vehicles make a return, etc.  I payed $40 for it. That’s the only money I’m giving it because that’s the point. I’m just disappointed. And that’s severely underselling it.
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metalandmagi · 5 years
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December End of the Year Media Madness!
It’s a new month and a new year! And what a crazy month it was what with Tumblr imploding and all. But I’ll still throw this on here just because I’ll be on this site until it literally boots me out. But I do have a twitter now…@metalandmagi where I’m also barely active at all.
Anyway, why make top 10 lists for the entire year when I can just ramble about all the media I consumed this month? There’s only a marginal amount of holiday things on here by my standards!
November media
Movies!
Give me some credit there’s only four Christmas movies on here.
Won’t You Be My Neighbor?: A documentary about Mr. Rogers starting with the birth of the television show to his death. This is the fluffiest most heartwarming thing I could have possibly picked to watch on Christmas, and I encourage everyone, even people who hate documentaries and/or never grew up with Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, to watch it. There’s a lot of important messages about acceptance, dealing with tragedy, and mental health that people can learn from and feel good about. Not to mention how he completely revolutionized children’s television. So yeah, he was awesome.10/10
Spider-man Into the Spider-verse: When a rip between dimensions is opened, a bunch of different spider themed superheroes from every comic fan’s wet dreams all get together to close it. Guys I’m not that big of a Spider-man fan, but dang this movie was a ton of fun. I came for the amazing visual effects and stayed for the amazing...everything else. The music, the performances, and the story were all top notch. Also I now have a new favorite Nick Cage role. If you thought the trailer made the animation look interesting, it was just the tip of the iceberg because it is the most visually interesting movie I’ve seen in the last three years. I strongly suggest any fan of animation...or even any fan of great stories and movies in general go see it even if you’re not that big on Spider-Man. Now I’m demanding a Spider-verse Aunt May movie because I have so many questions! And the post credits scene was the best out of any Marvel movie. Period. 10,000/10
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The Wiz (2015 musical): I should start making a section for musicals or plays instead of just lumping it in with the movies. It’s the Wizard of Oz...but cool. I’ve never seen any iteration of The Wiz and it seems like I’m constantly hearing about it. So I watched the 2015 version of the 1975 Broadway musical that NBC aired. And yeah it’s good. There were some great performances. But I wasn’t very impressed with the songs themselves, and it’s not really the same without a dog along for the ride, but whatever. 7.5/10
Jumanji Welcome to the Jungle: The surprisingly fun reboot/sequel thing of Jumanji where four teenagers get stuck in a video game that follows every “stuck in a video game” trope you can imagine but actually does it well. It’s a sweet, funny romp through the jungle with some great comedic performances. I really don’t have much to say about it except that this movie is better than it has any right to be. 8/10
The Christmas Chronicles: Two children stow away on Kurt Russell’s, I mean Santa’s sleigh and go on a dangerous, balls to the wall adventure throughout Chicago trying to save Christmas or something. After everyone started talking about how crazy this Netflix movie is I had to watch it to verify if it is indeed as wild as they said. And yes...yes it is. It is so laughably ridiculous and questionable that it’s impossible to actually hate. The elves are some unholy mixture of minions and gremlins, one of the children is a literal felon that no one is concerned about, and Kurt Russell is super into the role but has some sort of thing about fat-shaming Santa. I just...have so many questions! But it was certainly a trip, so I’d have to recommend it just so you too can witness the insanity. -10 “savvy, straight-talking St. Nicks”/10
Arthur Christmas: No, it’s not a Christmas special related to the aardvark cartoon! This is the 2011 animated movie that no one remembers exists. Santa’s clumsy but enthusiastic son Arthur must deliver a forgotten present in less than two hours while the rest of his family deals with some Arrested Development style family drama. This is by far the most underrated Christmas movie of all time; even I didn’t realize it was actually good until I watched it for the first time in 2016! The fun road-trip style plot and the entertaining characters were victims of bad marketing. Arthur is hilariously endearing, and there was so much heart and effort put into it that I can find new things to notice every time I watch it. Not to mention the amazingly animated opening spy sequence! And also Mrs. Claus is secretly a total badass and Bryony the elf is the coolest female character in a Christmas movie ever. The movie’s message of old vs new is nothing we haven’t seen before, but I really don’t care because at the heart of it all, it’s about making people happy on Christmas. If you’re like me and just assumed this movie would suck...or didn’t know it exists, please give it a chance. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth seeing. 9/10
Neo Yokio Pink Christmas: Yes, it’s the Christmas special for Neo Yokio. No I cannot accurately describe it with mere words. There’s a rich bachelor gift exchange, demon possession, and pompous French aunts slinging insults at each other. It is unironically my favorite holiday episode of a show ever, and to me it’s the best Christmas special ever made. I thought I was prepared for the absolute bat-shit ride I would go on, but no...I wasn’t even close. At this point I don’t know if it’s written like this on purpose or if some divine twist of fate made the executives believe this is truly brilliant television. Either way, it is a masterpiece in its own right. There’s even a somewhat intriguing plot and a message about gift giving and capitalism under all the crazy! If you haven’t jumped down the rabbit hole yet, I implore you to watch the insanity that is Neo Yokio and follow it up with Pink Christmas because it will truly make your holiday season. 100,000 demon DNA drugs out of 100,000!
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Die Hard: Nothing says Christmas like terrorists taking over a skyscraper and Bruce Willis having to take them all down by himself. Yeah...so I’ve never seen Die Hard before, but this is one of those movies that is so famous that I felt like I’d already absorbed everything important through cultural osmosis. And even though it’s pretty good, I would have liked it better if I didn’t know what was going to happen. My only real complaint is that I think it goes on way too long. More than anything it just made me sad to remember that Alan Rickman is gone. And it bothers me so much that John McClane goes through this building that’s under construction WITHOUT SHOES! 8/10
Books!
The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis: The 4th/6th book in the Chronicles of Narnia, in which Eustace Scrubb and his classmate Jill Pole go to the underworld to find King Caspian’s long lost son. Even though my children- the Pevensies aren’t in it, I actually think this book is my favorite of the series so far. Jill and Eustace are both sassy enough to play off each other, Puddleglum absolutely hilarious, and the book actually has a clear cut plot! It reads much more like a Greek myth than a children’s fairy tale since there aren’t nearly as many of Lewis’s trademark author interjections, and you know...it’s a literal journey to the underworld. And can I just say that it’s super refreshing to have an author write two main characters WITH ZERO ROMANTIC INTENTIONS! Especially since they’re freaking children! Now I just wish Disney had continued the movies even more! 9/10
Queen of Air and Darkness by Cassandra Clare: I’m going to do this with only minor spoilers. It’s the final book in The Dark Artifices trilogy. Will Emma and Julian break the parabatai bond? Will the reflection of the modern day American government- I mean the Cohort/ the Clave fuck up the relationships between Shadowhunters and Downworlders forever? You’ll have to suffer like the rest of us to find out! In my opinion, 99% of this book is amazing, but in the last 50 pages there are some...bullshit ways of solving problems. Like everything that went down with the Cohort in Idris. Not to mention we’ve been so invested in the parabatai curse and how Julian and Emma’s bond would go down and...let’s just say the resolution was way too easy. And if you thought Clare’s other finales were jam packed, you ain't seen nothin’ yet. My copy is 880 pages and there was still more stuff that I wanted to happen...like any sort of scene between Dru and Ash...or an ending between Kit and Ty that doesn’t make me want to cry (the Wicked Powers is going to be brutal). But the rest of that 99% is mind-blowing! There’s so much good I can say that it mostly outranks anything I didn’t like...I mean we finally got a Malec wedding and a proper polyamorous relationship for the Angel’s sake! It may be my least favorite of her finales by default but it was still a fun ride! 9/10
TV shows!
She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018): An elite soldier finds a sword that can transform her into a super buff magical girl who helps princesses take down the forces of evil. It’s a reboot of the 1980s cartoon, and holy crap it’s AMAZING! I have a whole new group of children to adopt, each episode is entertaining in its own way, and there’s so...many...good...ships! And it gives Steven Universe a run for its money with the care that went into making every character a different kind of warrior, which I love because the cast is 99% female. My only real complaint is that I never warmed up to Catra because she wasn’t particularly sympathetic to me from the beginning. But I understand why some people love her. If you love well crafted adventurous character driven cartoons and haven’t watched it yet WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?  10/10
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Nailed It Holiday: Yes, my favorite baking show (and by that I mean the only baking show I watch) has a holiday season out on Netflix, in which newbie bakers are tasked with making incredibly professional desserts with a very short time limit. And whoever makes the best treat gets 10,000 dollars. I’ve talked about this show before in my June media madness, and I don’t know what it is but I’m so addicted to it. 10/10
Brooklyn nine-nine (season 5): Come on we all know the cop sitcom. It’s the best sitcom. Just in general it’s the best. Great characters that subvert expectations, great humor, and a lot of heart. I’ve known that this show is supposed to be amazing for years, but I only started watching it a few months ago. And since I couldn’t find season 5 anywhere...I got a Hulu subscription just to watch it before season 6 comes out. That’s how good this show is. 10/10
The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel (season 2): Our favorite underdog comedian is back, and she’s slowly gaining popularity and doing...stuff. Like going on tour. And hanging out with Zachary Levi. Yes, this season is great, but my problem with this series is that every character aside from Midge and Susie are the fucking worst, especially the parents. Midge’s parents suck, Joel’s parents suck, Midge and Joel are appropriately neglectful parents for the time period...I could go on. And it’s not even in a funny way; like it’s just disgusting to watch these power dynamics. Not to mention how old the comedic bits for the parents get (how many times can we hear about Joel needing to date or Midge needing to get married?!) Yes, I realize that we’re supposed to be annoyed AND YES I realize that this is a product of culture and how society was, but none of the parents have any redeeming qualities. In episode one, we’re led to believe that Midge’s parents will grow and change through the season and they never do! At least there are moments where Joel can kind of be redeeming and expand on his actual character before he reverts back to being an asshole. Anyway, my thoughts are pretty much the same as the first season. It’s funny and interesting to watch, but it can be ridiculously frustrating when you hate almost all the characters!  8/10
Fuller House (season 4): Yes I do watch the ridiculous Netflix reboot of Full House. And yes, it is absolutely terrible! I really really hate it! But will I stop watching it? Let’s just say you can pry this pile of garbage from my cold dead hands. I don’t know if I’d call this a guilty pleasure or a hate watch type of show... it’s certainly not so bad it’s good territory like Neo Yokio...but Full House was pretty much my entire childhood. And yes, the original show is also not great. I loved it as a kid, and it was my first real exposure to a non-traditional family in live action, but yeah it doesn’t age well. What I’m trying to say is...I have no good reason for watching this.
I don’t mean to say that there’s nothing good about it, especially this season. They really back off on the more cringe-worthy catch phrases, Stephanie being aware of how stupid the writing is and constantly pointing it out is actually funny, their Christmas episode was surprisingly genuine, and they impressed me by actually make two female characters try and work through their difficulties instead of pitting them against each other for laughs. It has its moments, just like the original but definitely not enough to make up for the worst of it. Maybe this generation of children will like it the way lots of my generation used to like Full House...but yeah it’s awful, I hate it so much. -1 missing Tanner child out of 3
Voltron Legendary Defender (season 8) SPOILERS: It’s the final season of Netflix’s Voltron, and boy it was...something. I didn’t want to make this a big rant/defense of the show...but I feel like I have to highlight some things because this fandom is a shithole that refuses to see the good in anything.
There is so much good and so much...not good I can say about it, so here’s a couple things. I know this show didn’t go the direction anyone wanted, but that doesn’t make it bad. In addition to the stunning fight scenes and music, the performances this season were just amazing! I literally wanted to cry every other episode even though sometimes I didn’t know why the fuck something was happening. I don’t know how I feel about Honerva’s plan. I understand her motivation, but I was constantly questioning how we got from point A to point B... so yeah the plot and writing could be...weird at times. Also everyone seemed to have super pointy chins this season...
Spoiler alert: Not many of us wanted Lance and Allura to happen, but I truly believe it wasn’t done in a half assed way. At the very least, I appreciate that they had a genuine bond that developed over so many seasons. BECAUSE YES IT DID! Anyone who says they had no development or that it felt forced never paid attention. I wanted it to stay platonic; I wanted Klance to happen, but...I can’t be too mad at the writers because they at least tried. I still believe that Klance was endgame and the creators were forced to change the outcome of the show later on. AND YES LANCE DID GET A CHARACTER ARC! It may not have been the one we wanted to see, but I’m baffled that people think Lance living with his family, surrounded by people he loves-which is what he wanted all along- is not a happy ending. I just wish his relationship with Keith wasn’t pretty much ignored all season. But I believe Allura is his past that taught him to genuinely love and Keith is his future who will make Lance his “first choice”. And I’m not even gonna try to explain how I feel about Shiro and Allura’s endings because everything I feel is so complicated and layered. There is good and there is bad.
TLDR: This show teaches us that we’re stronger together, and I think the “fandom” completely missed the point because they do nothing but tear others down and refuse to look at things from other perspectives. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO NOT LIKE IT, BUT YOU DON’T HAVE THE RIGHT TO TAKE AWAY OTHER PEOPLE’S ENJOYMENT AND BE A DICK ABOUT IT. It may not have been everything I wanted, but I’m glad I went on this ride. Besides, there are canonically infinite realities so there’s got to be a reality where all your dreams for the show come true. As a season, I’d say it’s a 7.5/10.
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Honorable Mentions
I watched Avengers: Infinity War again. And yes it’s still great.
I’m watching Superstore because when another sitcom comes on before The Good Place, why not? Also since I finished season 5 of Brooklyn 99 I had to use my Hulu subscription for something.
Camp Camp has a holiday episode...so naturally I watched it...several times. Please watch Camp Camp.
Hellsing Ultimate Abridged finally ended, and I feel obligated to shout this out because, hey when you put out one episode a year it’s a big accomplishment to finish it!
Super Smash Bros Ultimate is finally here!!!!!!!!!!!
ALL THE WINTER ANIME IS ENDING!!! They were all so amazing! So shout out to Iroduku-The world in colors, Bloom into You, Hinomaru Sumo, Dakaichi, Banana Fish, Jingai no Yomen, Golden Kamuy, Skull-faced Bookseller Honda-san, Tsurune, AND RUN WITH THE WIND even though they’re not finished yet.
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takaraphoenix · 6 years
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Let’s talk about character death for a moment.
Because I’ve been thinking about One Piece all day long. And for me, personally, One Piece will always be king of character death.
But before we go into that, let me clarify some things about character death.
I’m not a fan of character death. I don’t want to see characters I love die. That being said, The Thing (show/movie/book/whatever) does not exist to please and make every viewer happy and feel fuzzy. Especially when it features heavy action elements, character death is kind of a very important element and tool.
Nowadays, character death is kind of... a joke.
No one stays dead anymore. When a character dies, the viewer very often isn’t even under the illusion that this character might be dead in the sense of “gone forever”, which death kind of should imply. Instead it’s more of a “Well, how/when are they going to bring them back?”.
In Shadowhunters, for example, Jace dies for a full three minutes of screen-time before being brought back from death. They could have milked this for some suspense and feelings by killing him off in a cliffhanger for the season - not EVERYBODY has read the books before watching the show, you know. You could have pretended that he stays dead by killing him off in the season finale and waiting with the “Oh, I’d like to have him back, please” for episode one of the next season, to keep the viewers on their toes as to how and when the character will be brought back.
Sebastian. Killed off, immediately summons his mom who promises to bring him back.
And even on the slim off-chance that a character is killed and actually stays dead - Jocelyn Fray - it is not really... handled.
She’s been dead for a little more than a month now. That is no time at all. Yet when Clary had the angel summoned, bringing back her mother and only good relative doesn’t even cross her mind. It’s not like Jocelyn’s death has been years ago and she is well-settled with never seeing her again. It’s only been a handful of weeks now. I find it highly unrealistic that she got over losing her mother that quickly.
Luke too. The supposed love of his life died a bit over a month ago but he’s already flirting up the next woman. Like. Where’s the grief-period...? I’m not saying he ought to wear black and mourn for the rest of his life, but... more than two months, maybe?? You spent twenty years loving this woman. Somehow, I feel like that should have a longer grief-period and a harder impact than chatting up a woman after not even two months.
Not to mention the part where the show just opted to completely ellipse the grief-sharing between father and daughter. Luke and Clary addressed Jocelyn’s death in passing.
And it was mainly just used to fuel a tiny bit of Alec angst - but really only a tiny bit because he literally completely stopped being guilty about it right after he tried to kill himself over it. And while the suicide attempt was mainly the demon, it still rooted from his deeply seated guilt for having killed Jocelyn. But after that, it was kind of just... done.
Jocelyn’s death was all in all completely horrendously handled.
And horrendously handled death is kind of what brought me to this topic, as I had just recently ranted about Kevin Can Wait and how they just fridged the female lead because they didn’t know how to further the plotline but also added a time-skip of a year to assure no grieving will happen and we can move on to the “fun part” again.
That’s the two big bad Hollywood ways of handling character death.
Either you avoid handling it by just... bringing the character back to life.
Or you avoid handling it by simply not having the characters grief and deal with the death.
Both of those are awful options.
Look at Marvel. Avengers was kind of a movie you walked into expecting no real major stakes - there was just NO WAY they would actually kill off an Avenger during the very first team-up movie.
But they killed off a secondary character very effectively.
And by Coulson not actually being a character anyone was close to, you got to avoid the grieving process. Yet still the movie made that death impactful, gave it meaning and an appropriate reaction.
...I am still intensely salty that they fucking retconned it out of existence by whatever the fuck they did to justify that TV show. Like. I genuinely don’t care for it and it absolutely ruins the rewatchability of the movie for me because now when Fury goes drama queen over Coulson’s death, I just shrug and go “Meh”, knowing full-well he is still alive.
Prior to the retconning bullshit, it was a really good and effective way of adding stakes and feelings.
And that is what character death should be.
It adds stakes to a situation. Knowing that your protagonists are not invincible. That something can actually happen to them. The “no one is safe”-principle.
It’s why I absolutely adore the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.
It had stakes. I spent hours crying over the final book, because Rick Riordan put the effort into making you grow attached to characters like Ethan, Charles, Silena and Luke. You cared about them, their deaths were not throwaway lines, they were impactful on the reader, the story and the characters in the universe.
He gained a shit-ton of respect from me for that book. Genuinely.
Granted, he lost all that respect with the sequel-series where he did the literal opposite and just did not kill anyone. Oh, yeah, nameless, never-before-appeared characters in throwaway line-mentions, a failed comic-relief death for Octavian and the “No worries, we spent the whole entire fucking book setting up the Death Cure”-death of Leo. It was pathetic and insanely boring.
There was absolute emotional detachment toward the final battle, while in the original series, I could not put that book down reaching with bated breath as some of my favorite characters died or risked their lives respectively.
After Beckendorf blew up, when Silena sacrificed her life, all bets were off. I could not stop reading. I had to know. Had to know if Nico and Clarisse and Thalia and Percy would make it out alive of this series. What other twists would come. It was incredibly engaging, both plot-wise and emotional.
That is what character death should do. Make a situation feel real. Make it feel emotional.
It’s one of the many, many reasons why I love and always will love Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Oh yeah, sure, this show is like the OG sinner of “Oopsie daisy, brought back from the death”-protagonist and it was ridiculous on that behalf.
But even Buffy’s death had impact.
Dawn, who started stealing and acting up because she did not know how to deal with her feelings and her frustrations. The utter... loss.
Spike fucking a robot, because the woman he loved was gone. But also Spike working with the Scoobies, Spike being an anchor for Dawn and being there for Buffy’s orphaned sister.
The utter despair of Willow trying to bring Buffy back.
Literally the only plotline of an entire season is them dealing with Buffy’s death. Buffy included. It’s not just “Oops, dead - aaand we’re back online!”. There is grief, heartbreak, confusion, the... “What now?”.
Even as real consequences as how to pay the fucking rent with the “woman of the house” dead.
And it’s not even just this “We will literally dedicate a whole entire season to this character death and it will ACTUALLY work and be brilliant”.
The Body remains one of the best episodes in TV history to me, as it deals with the death of Buffy’s mother, because it is... mundane. It’s a normal, human death and it’s... normal, human griefing.
Or... even smaller things. Kendra. She was only in literally three episodes. She wasn’t a big character. Yet even seasons later, Buffy still had Kendra’s stake, the stake that meant so much to Kendra and you were reminded that Buffy is still thinking of this dead friend. It wasn’t just a one-off character who was shrugged off and discarded.
That’s how you should handle character death. That’s how you make it work.
And now back to where all of this started.
One Piece.
Because there is actually a third option available on the “Death doesn’t matter” scale, aside from bringing them back from the dead and just not having characters deal with the death.
Simply not killing anyone off to begin with.
It’s usually the anime go-to thing, but also typical for cartoons. Generally, the animated medium where violence is hilarious and did you see how this Normal Human just walked straight through a wall and should technically now be dead? Hahaha.
Yeah. That.
One Piece used to be one of those.
In fact, One Piece went out of its way to show you just how ridiculously many characters survive ridiculously deadly situations in the Impel Down arc. We were reunited with so many characters that I genuinely had thought had just died an off-screen death in conclusion to the prior battles.
And then my favorite character died.
Died and stayed dead.
In conclusion to a story-arc that literally reintroduced a handful of characters I thought had died, making me feel even surer that this all would be fine. That Luffy would be on time to save his brother’s life, that they would leave, together, reunited.
And then they killed Ace off. Actually, on-screen, fully. Dead.
I cried for months over this death. It was intensely impactful.
For one, due to the world-building so far that has set it up that no one really dies. All actual character deaths laid in the past - being shown in flashbacks. But no one ever actually died from a battle-wound. Crushed by an entire fucking building? Shrug it off, dude.
This... inversion of an “avoiding death”-trope can make a character death intensely effective, because it really does hit you out of left field then.
But it wasn’t just that.
Luffy’s reaction to it was so intense and real and deep and argh, I cried so much. So, so much. And I was so angry about this. Stopped watching/reading for a solid two years of grieving period for myself.
I’m not good when you kill off my favorite character.
And I gotta admit, I have never really managed to get back into it since Ace’s death. I think that’s less due to the death and more due to the time-skip. I didn’t like that at all.
But yeah, it was hella effective and well-written.
So, in overall conclusion, what I want is for them to stop with the cop-out deaths.
If you don’t have the balls to actually kill your characters off, then don’t fake it either, because it’s uncreative, uneffective, boring and annoying.
Kill them off or don’t, there can’t be an in-between, the in-between has become an overused trope at this point.
And when you kill them off, fucking deal with it and have your characters deal with it too.
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vagrantblvrd · 6 years
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Jeremy’s initiation into the Fake AH Crew:
Successfully mug Gavin.
There are rules, of course.
1. Jeremy can’t kill Gavin.
“What? Why would I - “
“You’re new. Trust us, that won’t last.”
2. Jeremy can’t shoot, stab, or otherwise injure Gavin.
“...I’m starting to feel a little concerned here.”
3. If he doesn’t mug Gavin by midnight, he fails.
“Does he turn back into a pumpkin?”
From the stories he's heard as part of B Team this should be easy. There's a running joke that Gavin gets mugged all the time. The main crew will shell out a few bucks and send some poor schmuck to mug him. Listen to him shriek about it over the comms or on a phone call, and try not to lose their shit when he realizes who sent the damn mugger in the first place.
This should be easy enough, but no.
No.
Jeremy's life for the rest of the day is like a Roadrunner cartoon.
He cannot mug Gavin for the life of him and it’s infuriating because Gavin manages to evade him time and again without ever seeming to realize someone’s trying to mug him.
HOW.
A little before midnight Jeremy finds himself flat on his back in the middle of the desert rethinking the life choices that have brought him to this particular moment in time.
The flaming wreckage of his car - his car - is off to the side, coyotes howling in the distance and Jeremy has no idea how he got here. (Somewhere between his meeting with Geoff at the penthouse and now there was a gang attack at some point. A terrifying high-speed chase with the cops with at least one helicopter involved. The water in his boots remind him there were boats too, the details are unimportant.
After a while, he realizes he can ear an engine approaching and looks up to Gavin driving up on his Faggio.
Jeremy groans and drops his head back down as Gavin parks that dumb bike of his. Hears him walking over and tries to see how many constellations he can name, so of course that's when Gavin leans over him, amused as all hell because of course he knew what was going on the whole time.
Jeremy groans and closes his eyes, hands folded on his chest because he is done.
“After all that, you’re going to give up so easily?” Gavin asks, and he sounds like he’s laughing.
Jeremy’s eyes pop open, angry, annoyed, and oh, boy, did he realize the reason for the rules about this bullshit game the Fakes play because there were moments he was tempted over the course of the day. Had his gun on him the whole time and everything.
It takes a moment, but Jeremy suddenly realizes Gavin's dangling is wallet over his head. Holing on to it with his forefinger and thumb.
Jeremy’s eyes narrow.
Gavin smirks, waggling his wallet as his eyebrows go up, and Jeremy -
He slowly rises his hand, fully expecting Gavin to snatch his wallet back out of reach the moment Jeremy gets close – some Charlie Brown and the football jackassery – but he doesn't. Just watches Jeremy with that dumb smirk on his face as Jeremy's fingers close on it. Tugs it out of Gavin's hold with suspicious ease.
“Not quite midnight, yet,” Gavin says, glancing at the that ridiculously expensive watch of his and back down at Jeremy, smirk shifting more towards a smile.
A few moments go past,the wheels in Jeremy's head slowly turning, and then it clicks.
He mugged  - for a given definition of – Gavin before midnight. 
He did it.
Jeremy starts laughing, normal amused kind of thing that slowly turns a little hysterical because what the actual fuck???
As he's rolling around on the ground cackling to himself because his day has been a complete nightmare, the rest of the fakes pop up and watch him. Look a Gavin who shrugs, like he has no idea why the hell Jeremy's acting like a loon.
The Fakes have had some trouble spot flare up here and there the past little while. Gangs working for them getting a little too greedy, pushy, that kind of thing. And they figured it would be a good idea for this Dooley kid to get a taste of what things were like for the main crew in these kind of situations. 
Had someone else from the crew watching the entire time, ready to step in if things started to look a little dicey. If Jeremy in over his head, but he didn't. 
Might have gotten a little bit...creative with his approach to problem solving, but he handled himself just fine. Impressed the others a time or two, enough for Geoff to call Gavin up and tell him they'd put the poor kid through enough for one day, let him mug him already.
Jeremy stares at Gavin and the others while they explain, ask him if he still wants to be part of the main crew after all this, and he sighs.
“You're all assholes,” he says, forearm over his eyes, laughing again, but it's the incredulous, happy kind this time. “But fucking fine, I accept.”
Everything goes pretty smoothly for a while after that, Jeremy settling into the main crew like it's where he was meant to be, but a few months down the road he starts experimenting with fashion. Pushing the boundaries. 
Starts out small with little flashes and pops of color here and there, waits until the others are used to catching little glimpses of purple or orange from the corner of their eye while they're on a job or pulling a heist. Start to associate the colors with him, and then come the cowboy hats and so on and so on, Jeremy explaining he's trying to make a name for himself with the crew.
The others all have these reputations, you know? Jeremy would absolutely hate to let them down, so he's trying, here.
And then word starts getting back to the others about the Fake AH Crew member who wears purple and orange and enjoys cowboy hats.
 This "Rimmy Tim" fellow and the horror that follows when they realize what Jeremy's been doing all this time when he strolls into the penthouse in full Rimmy Tim gear, shit-eating grin on his face because yes, this is indeed payback for the hell they put him through during his initiation.
This horrendous character he's created who must be colorblind or simply have no taste whatsoever to think his ensemble is in any way fashionable.
Jeremy tipping his cowboy hat at them and moseys off somewhere, whistling as he goes, oozing smugness and a definite air of satisfaction while the others watch in awe.
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ellanainthetardis · 7 years
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Hey hey hey! Are you ready for your Sunday dose of baby fic? Let me know your thoughts!
[FF] or [AO3]
22. Twenty-seven Weeks.
Effie passed her hand on the neatly folded piles of rompers, pants and little sweaters she had just placed in the brand new white dresser. They were starting to have a real collection of them but nowhere near enough in her opinion, the two piles looked small and lost in the big drawer. She was eager to go on a shopping spree but found herself hindered by the still deep coat of snow. Reaching the train station to see her mother off two weeks earlier had almost been too much for her, she had slept for hours afterwards.
People brought her clothes though, as well as stuffed animals or colorful toys… Eileen had brought a darling little elephant with a blue bowtie… So soft… She had placed it on the shelf Haymitch had screwed in a couple of days earlier along with a few other toys. The rag doll Haymitch had bought for her, the one he had brought to Four with him, was proudly displayed on the dresser for the time being. She liked touching it when her nerves played tricks on her. It calmed her down, reminded her they were in this together, that they could do it.
The nursery was finally taking form.
The dresser, the baby-changing table, a baby carrier that had been left in the corner for now, soft rugs and lovely little curtains, a rocking chair, shelves that were still mostly empty… She loved the cartoon animals Peeta had painted for their son…
She knew they had time yet, she had barely started her seventh month, but with the beginning of the third trimester, she was starting to fret again.
“We need to baby proof the house.” she declared. They needed to make sure plugs would be safe, kitchen drawers would remain shut, that no little hands would close on sharp objects or little lips swallow something vile… They would need a gate for the stairs and so many other things…
“By we, you mean me.” Haymitch snorted from where he was sitting on the floor, trying to piece the crib together.
There had been a long and heavy debate about cribs. Effie had wanted two. One for the nursery and one for their bedroom because it had seemed logical to her that a baby would require a lot of coming and going at night at first and it seemed stupid to actually get up who knew how many times every night – all the more so given that she would end up having to be the one to get out of bed since she would be the food source. Haymitch had absolutely refused the idea of a crib in the bedroom, arguing that the baby would get used to it and then they would have all the pain in the world getting him used to sleeping alone in his room.
At which point the actual idea of being separated from her child even if it was by a corridor had been too much and she had started to cry.
Haymitch’s face at that moment had been almost comical.
It was exhaustion mostly. She was suffering from bouts of restlessness followed by hours when her whole body felt heavy and tired and all she could do was nap or lie on the couch like the big whale she was in danger of becoming.
Everyone told her it was normal but she was still anxious.
She wanted everything to be ready, she needed everything to be ready. It didn’t matter that they had three months left.
“You will be the hands and I will be the brain.” she teased.
“Sure, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that.” He rolled his eyes. “Sit down, yeah? You’ve been on your feet for a while.”
She pursed her lips at that deflection but snatched the notepad from where she had left it on the floor – not without a lot of difficulties because her belly was big – and settled on the rocking-chair. She added baby proofing to her long list.
Eileen said she was nesting, that it was normal.
She deeply resented the implication that she was acting like a poultry of some kind but couldn’t deny the truth of that statement.
During their last phone call, Lyssa had laughed at her complaining nothing was ready and had told her what she truly needed to get ready for was the birth, that there was a reason she had chosen to use a surrogate for her second pregnancy. Her sister had meant nothing by it, it was an innocent joke, but it had sent Effie in a state.
She hadn’t really thought about the actual birth yet. The aftermath, yes… Holding her baby, probably crying a lot out of relief at finally having him in her arms… But the actual birth was a sort of limbo she had been happy not to consider.
Reading chapters about delivery was somewhere on her list, between getting a diaper bag and buy more lotion because she was running low and she was very invested in avoiding stretch marks. Haymitch loved helping her in that endeavor even though it had less to do with what she would look like once she wasn’t pregnant anymore and more to do with rubbing cream all over her. It was alright with her, her belly was a hindrance now and they needed to be creative where sex was concerned.
“So, I was thinking…” he continued distractedly as he screwed together two pieces of white wood. She wanted to tell him to be careful with the paint but knew it would end up with a rant about how he could still put furniture together without making a mess, thank you very much Effie. “How about Silas?”
Finding a name was at the top of her list, underlined twice and circled three times. She had notepads filled with potential names. The problem was, they didn’t seem to be able to agree on any.
“Silas.” she repeated, testing it out. She imagined herself calling her little boy on the playground and wrinkled her nose. “Why not Chryses? It means golden. I knew a Chryses, very good name…” He tossed her a look and she rolled her eyes, rubbing her belly. “Daddy doesn’t want you to have a pretty name, baby. He wants to call you shrimp all your life.”
“I want him to have a good name, a solid name.” he grumbled. “And you and I don’t have the same definition of pretty.”
She rocked slowly, drawing soothing circles on her belly, humming the tune Haymitch had taught her. Learning nurse rhymes and lullabies were on her list too but for now she was content with only that one. A part of her was impatient for that moment when she would sit there with her baby cradled close to her chest, rocking him to sleep. Another part of her was terrified.
“Hush little baby, don’t you cry…” she sang softly when she felt their son stir a bit too violently. He would kick her bladder again and she would have to rush to the bathroom and she was tired of that happening. “Mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby. Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird...”
She did have the best voice from the two of them but she couldn’t help a soft smile when Haymitch absentmindedly picked up the tune, so focused on what he was doing with that crib she hardly thought he was aware of even singing.
“If that mockingbird won’t sing, Papa’s gonna buy you a golden ring…” The crib was finally starting to look like a crib and he frowned, testing it by pushing down a little. “And if that golden ring turns to brass, Papa’s gonna buy you a looking glass. And if that looking glass gets broke, Papa’s gonna buy you a billy goat…” More like a pack of geese, she thought, as he distractedly went on with the song up until the crib looked done and secured and he reached out for her, brushing his knuckles against the swell of her stomach. “And if that horse and cart fall down, you’ll still be the sweetest baby in town.”
“I love you.” she grinned. “And you are cute.”
“I’m not!” he sputtered.
“Oh, yes, you are…” she insisted, her grin only deepening when the tip of his ears and the back of his neck started reddening. “You will be a doting father…”
“I’ll count myself lucky if the kid doesn’t end up hating me.” he mumbled, turning away from her.
“If he ends up hating one of us, it won’t be you.” she whispered, averting her eyes. They fell on the cat rag doll on the dresser, on the embroidered I love my mommy that she used as a reminder, and she forced a cheer in her voice. “Now, are you one hundred percent certain the crib won’t collapse?”
“No. I thought our boy would like it better if it broke.” he deadpanned. “More fun.”
She whacked him with her notepad. “I am serious.”
“Well, so am I.” he scoffed, testing the crib’s resistance by placing his heavy tool box in it. “See? It holds.”
She pursed her lips. “This box is filthy. Nothing filthy gets near my son. That includes your birds, by the way.”
“My birds aren’t filthy.” he argued. “And what about your dog? He fucking jumped in a puddle of mud this morning, you’ve seen the state of him?”
She had. Which was why he had been exiled to the backyard for the time being even though it meant the geese honked twice more as usual. She was hoping playing in the snow would wash some of the mud away.
“Snowball is not my dog.” she huffed. “I am not the one who was begging for a puppy like a five years old.”
“But you’re the one who corrupted him with your pretty baby bullshit.” he accused. “You made him a mama’s boy.”
“Oh, are we jealous, Haymitch?” she teased, cooing a little. She trapped his arm in hers and pressed a kiss on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of the woods that clung to the wool from his morning walk with Snowball.
“You stole my dog.” he muttered with a pout.
“I thought it was my dog.” she taunted but shook her head. “Do not be ridiculous. Snowball loves you.”
“Maybe.” he mumbled, burying his hands in his pockets. “But give him a choice and he will stay with you.”
“Because I am pregnant and he feels it is his duty to guard me.” She gently bumped her belly with his side. “Don’t you think he knows?”
Dogs knew things. And they had the smartest puppy in Panem. Of course, he knew.
“Yeah.” Haymitch agreed, smirking a little. “You get once the shrimp’s here, it won’t be our dog anymore, yeah? I bet whatever you want, the puppy will be all over him.”
A puppy this size all over her baby didn’t seem safe but she kept her tongue on that front for now. They could always teach Snowball to be careful. The puppy was a fast learner.
“Are you ready to bet chocolate chipped mint ice cream with maybe some whipped cream and a side of orange jam on grilled toasts?” she asked innocently. “Oh, and that hot chocolate with cinnamon they have at the coffee shop?”
“That’s very specific, Princess.” he snorted. “Is that a random bet or is it your way of saying you’re having cravings again and I’m gonna have to rush all around town to get all that?”
She raised on tip toes to press two kisses on his cheek and one at the corner of his mouth. “Please, please, please?”
She was dying for mint ice cream and hot chocolate. And toasts. With orange jam.
The cravings were hitting her late in the pregnancy, later than most women. They had been happening steadily for a week or so and if Haymitch had been amused at first by the few innocent requests during the day, he hadn’t been so amused when she had pitched a tantrum at three am because she wanted strawberries and there were none to be found in the dead of winter.
He made a face. “That’s a lot of sugar, sweetheart…”
“You kept saying I needed to fatten up.” she pointed out.
She was certainly fattened up now. Well… She still wasn’t huge by someone else’s standard but she was a tiny person and she felt like she was ready to explode. The fact that there were still three months to go was frightening.
“Yeah, put on some weight, not give yourself diabetes…” he commented.
She couldn’t stop a flash of annoyance from passing on her face at getting denied. “The baby wants it.”
“The baby wants to be healthy.” he countered and, because she had let go of his arm and was now openly glaring, he lifted both hands in a gesture of surrender. “Tell you what… You can have the ice cream and the hot chocolate but we drop the whipped cream and the jam.”
“I want the jam.” she growled. “On grilled toasts.”
Haymitch had never been good at admitting defeat but he knew for a fact she would brave the snow and trek into town herself if she had too. Cravings weren’t to be taken lightly.
“No whipped cream.” he insisted.
“Spoil joy.” she accused, pecking his mouth. “Hurry, I am starving.”
He rolled his eyes and breathed out a long suffering sigh to let her know just how impossible she was before stealing another kiss.
“You’ll be okay on your own?” he asked once they were downstairs and he was slipping on his coat. “I can stop by the kids’ and ask one of them to…”
“I will be fine.” she interrupted him firmly, as much to convince him as herself. She had hardly been left home alone since… Since Clay. “I am keeping Snowball anyway. He needs a bath.”
And she would be fine with her guard puppy. She had no doubt he would jump at the throat of anyone who would try to attack her.
“Don’t overdo it.” he warned.
The second he opened the back door, Snowball came rushing in, joyfully barking at being allowed back inside. She had to grab his collar to prevent him from running around. Even then, when he shook the water off his fur, he sent speckles everywhere. He was a mess of wet hair and tangled mud crusted fur.
“You are one very disgusting puppy.” she chided him. “Jumping in a puddle of mud like a ruffian. I expect more distinguished behavior from you.” The rebuke flew high over his head. He barked, wriggling his tail left and right in excitement, his head nuzzling her hand, pleading to be petted. When he realized Haymitch was heading out, he tried to follow but she held fast.  “Ah. Ah.” She clicked her tongue. “Bad puppies don’t get to go out. Bad puppies get baths.”
“Can’t wait for you to give the same lecture to our kid, sweetheart.” Haymitch snorted as a goodbye.
Convincing Snowball to follow her upstairs wasn’t terribly difficult, neither was ordering him to hop in the bathtub. Haymitch had laughed at her and claimed she would make the puppy soft by pampering him like that, he had mocked her when she had ordered boxes of dog shampoo from the city… But having made sure the dog accepted baths easily from the very first week had made it a lot easier to keep him clean.
He enjoyed it well enough even.
He had grown a lot in the eight weeks they had had him. He was bigger than most dogs one could find in the Capitol now.
It took her a good total of twenty minutes to clean him up, brush him, towel him and then blow dry his fur – easily his favorite part of the whole process, he liked to roll around while she did it.
She was really yearning for mint ice cream and her hot chocolate by the time she was done but Haymitch still wasn’t back. She wandered upstairs, looking for something to do…
Her eyes fell on the attic trap almost by accident. She had never been up there yet. She wondered what Haymitch stocked there before her mind flashed to years of boxed clothes she had bought for him and he had deemed too ridiculous or fancy for Twelve – she had given him dozens of suits every Game season but he had only kept the other stuff around the house: the comfortable pants and sweaters, the sweatpants, the underwear and only a few good jackets. With nothing else to do and unable to keep her nesting tendencies under check, she opened the trap and climb the pull down ladder – harder than she had thought it would be.
She panted for a bit once at the top, sneezing because of the amount of dust she had disturbed. Stuck at the bottom of the ladder, Snowball whimpered and then lied down, resigning himself to wait for her.
She struggled to find the switch and made a face once the old bulb slowly flickered to life.
The attic was a mess, messier perhaps than the rest of the house had been when she had moved in. There were a lot of boxes haphazardly piled up, some weren’t even properly closed, the cardboard was wavy… There was a damp musty smell and she wondered if the roof was leaking in some places because some of the boxes were stained at the bottom…
A quick check confirmed that the closest boxes were full of mostly still good clothes. Some clips from newspapers and pictures had been crammed with the suits he hadn’t wanted, making it somehow easy to identify to which year the box belonged. As far as she could tell, there was a box for each of her years as his escort. Before her time, it seemed none of the clothes that he had been given had pleased him because there were at least four or five for each season and she gave up on sorting that halfway through. She did find a picture of Haymitch and Chaff with their arms tossed around each other’s shoulders, grinning hard at the camera, looking not a breath older than twenty and twenty-five, that she pocketed absent-mindedly…
More interesting was the junk piled up at the far end of the mansard roof. She didn’t understand what it was at first, it was only when she walked closer, treading carefully because the floorboard was made of uneven rough planks, that she understood what she was looking at. Twisted metal and charred wood…
Burned furniture…
Burned furniture that had been gathering dust in the attic for almost twenty-eight years.
She reached for the closest piece of wood and then thought better of it, not certain the whole thing wouldn’t crumble at the softest of touch.
She identified a couple of chairs, what looked like a metallic child-sized bed frame, a crudely carved rocking horse cut in half… The rest she couldn’t quite make out but she was certain it had belonged to a small house in the Seam once upon a time. Her eyes kept darting back to the destroyed rocking horse and she couldn’t help but blink back tears at the thought of what had happened to his owner.
Haymitch’s brother had only been eleven. He would have had her age nowadays.
She reached for her stomach but the baby was asleep now, which she regretted. The closest box to the furniture was also clearly the oldest in the room. The cardboard was pliant under her fingers, defeated by humidity. She sat down to better look inside.
It didn’t contain much.
A few forks and knives warped by the heat of the blaze that had swallowed the house, some equally distorted knick knacks and a few blackened books with missing pages, covers or spines. She wondered how all that stuff had ended up there and her heart bled at the thought of a lost sixteen year old Haymitch haunting the charred remains of his family’s house, picking up everything he could find and clinging to those odd mementoes.
Her apartment had been ransacked enough during the war that there hadn’t been much of anything left for her to find when she had finally been released from the rebels’ custody. She understood what it felt like to lose everything: your belongings, your keepsakes, memories, objects that were sometimes the only thing you had left from someone now deceased… It had nearly destroyed her at thirty-five, she couldn’t imagine going through that at sixteen.
She shouldn’t have been going through those boxes. It was clear they hadn’t been touched in decades…
The next box she opened was from his old house too but more terrible in the sense that it was almost empty. She picked up a crumpled yellowish glassy paper before realizing it was a picture that had been half swallowed by the fire. Ironically enough, the only face that hadn’t melted on the picture was Haymitch’s – which was why it had been crumpled no doubt. He looked younger than she had ever seen him, around thirteen or fourteen maybe, boyish still yet not quite carefree…
There was a metal box that looked rusty but untouched by the flames and absolutely too chiseled for something coming from Twelve. She turned it around, not quite surprised to find the mark of a now out of fashion Capitol jewelry maker underneath. She struggled to open it, not quite surprised either to find two rings in there. One was shaped like an iris and had probably been destined to the woman who shared the flower’s name. The other was plainer, a spiral of dozens of smaller diamonds, so obviously an engagement ring that it made her rub her belly again, too aware that in another life, things might have turned out very differently. She closed the metal box and placed it back down. Those were gifts that Haymitch had never had an opportunity to give…
She found various yellowed sheets of paper, half burned or torn away, pressed into an empty notebook. Numbers mostly, grocery lists, single words that made no sense without the context the missing parts would have afforded… It took her a minute to realize it was probably his mother’s handwriting. Likewise, she found a faded blue exercise book that had clearly belonged to his brother. Hayden Abernathy. The name was written on the inside in neat pointy letters.
She brushed the tips of her fingers against it, wishing with all her heart things had been different. No matter what it would have meant for the two of them… Haymitch would have been much happier not being the example. If he had only been allowed to keep his family…
She placed the exercise book aside and reached for the last item, an old warped tin can that might have belonged in a kitchen at some point. She opened it, expecting… something, anything… but not ashes.
She almost dropped the box.
“It’s not them.”
She startled and jumped, only managing by sheer reflexes not to spill the contents of the box. She placed a hand on her chest, trying to convince her heart to stop hammering as she glared at Haymitch.
“Do not creep up on me like that!” she snapped.
“I banged the door, the dog made a racket and I fucking called you three times.” he snarled, just as irritated as she was. “What the hell are you doing snooping around here anyway?”
Had he called her? She had been so wrapped up in this weird moment…
He was tense, in full fight or flight mode, and she licked her lips, her annoyance fading, knowing she needed to tread carefully.
“I was not snooping.” she denied.
“Could have fooled me.” he sneered.
“I apologize. I truly did not mean to intrude. I just… I saw the boxes and… I didn’t realize what these ones were until I had opened them.” She put the lid back and cautiously placed the box down where she had found it before trying to get up – something far more difficult than it used to be.
He hauled her up with a hand at her elbow and the other under her armpit, his face unreadable.
“Your snack’s downstairs.” he told her and turned away without a single look for the burned mementoes of his past.
He went down first and made sure she walked down the ladder without problem but he didn’t say a word. She tried to lighten the mood once they were in the kitchen and she spotted the chocolate chipped mint ice cream, the orange jam and the steaming cup of hot chocolate with cinnamon branded with the Clarkes’ coffee shop logo, thanking him cheerfully by kissing the corner of his lips. He suffered the kiss but didn’t encourage her to do more or joke about how cheap a date she was.
He grabbed the second cup that had been abandoned on the counter and sipped from it, paying her no attention as he watched the backyard through the window over the sink. She could smell the rich flagrance of black coffee from where she was sitting but she didn’t complain, spooning some ice cream directly from the tub instead. His back was on her, tension obvious in the line of his shoulders, and she bore it as long as she could.
The clever approach would have been to drop the matter entirely, to pretend nothing had happened and let him come back to her on his own terms, once he would have calmed down. That was what she would have done a few months earlier, not force the issue in fear he would run away from her.
But since the baby…
They had been good at talking the issues through – well, maybe not good but at least they had been trying. And that was a particular issue she had though he had laid to rest.
“Those ashes…” she ventured eventually.
“Told you. It’s not theirs.” he cut her off with a warning growl. “Probably not, anyway.”
“Haymitch…” she said, taking pain to keep her tone neutral.
“Their bodies were charred, alright?” he spat. “The mayor said… They buried little more than bones. I don’t know what I was thinking… I just grabbed what I could before they cleaned up to build another shack. And I thought… I thought… In the off-chance that…”
The pain in his voice was much more than she could handle, the way it broke even though it had been decades…
She moved in a flash, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her cheek between his shoulder blades. “I understand.”
He untangled himself from her arms and took his distance. “No, you don’t.” He shook his head. “You don’t.”
“Alright.” she offered, lifting both hands in a peaceful gesture because she could see he was getting worked up and because she wasn’t sure they hadn’t moved right out of upset and right into trigger territory. “I am sorry. I should not have…” 
“No, you shouldn’t have.” he sneered, rubbing his eyes. “I need some air.”
“You just came home.” she argued.
“You want me to spell it, fine, then I need some space.” he snapped.
He grabbed his coat and slammed the door and she was left staring at it, not sure if she should follow or not.
She just hoped he wouldn’t go straight for a bottle.
At some point, the children arrived for dinner but their happy chatter slowly vanished when they realized Haymitch wasn’t going to show up. She invented an excuse, something about someone needing his help with a fence – a ridiculous flimsy excuse they saw right through in about a minute – and declared they should eat without waiting for him.
By ten, he still wasn’t back and Peeta tactfully asked if she wanted him to look around for him – at the bar was implied but not uttered.
“I am sure he is fine.” she promised again and again, to the children and then, once they had left, to the puppy and their unborn son.
She went ahead with her nightly routine, taking her time in the shower, hoping against all odds that he would be waiting for her in the bedroom when she would walk out of the bathroom. He still wasn’t back when she got into bed, so she exceptionally allowed Snowball to climb in with her, needing the cuddles the dog was always too happy to provide.
The baby was restless once more, having a mad party in her uterus, kicking and rolling.  
“Shh, he will come back…” she whispered, slipping a hand under her nightgown to stroke the tight skin of her belly. “That’s the thing about your father… He always comes back. Hush little baby don’t you cry…”
She hoped to calm the baby but she ended up singing herself to sleep…
She felt the light touch of his fingers brushing her hair away from her face and her eyelids fluttered open. He was wandering around the room, trying not to wake her as he grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the drawer. A glance at the clock confirmed it was late, past midnight.
“Go back to sleep.” he muttered when he realized she was watching him.
“Did you drink?” she asked, unable to hold it up any longer, just as he lifted the covers up to get in bed.
He froze. “Seriously, Effie?”
It wasn’t such a stupid question in her opinion.
“I was worried.” she argued. “I thought maybe… Where did you disappear to, then?”
His face closed up and he tossed the covers back down with a sneer. “Where my old house used to be.”
“Oh.” she winced, feeling like an idiot. He snatched his woolen dressing gown from where he had tossed it at the foot of the bed that morning and turned away. She sat up, confused. “Where are you going?”
“To sleep on the couch.” he declared.
“No, Haymitch, don’t be ridiculous…” she pleaded but he was already gone. Snowball hesitated for a moment and then jumped off the bed and paddled after him.
She was reasonably certain the issue wouldn’t be forgotten the next morning and she didn’t really know how they had gotten there.
A few hours earlier he had been singing lullabies to her stomach and now…
Now it was a mess again.
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christophercori · 7 years
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Possible Blog/Journal Entry Nov 18, 2015
Ok. So, the following “entry” was written while In Brooklyn House Detention Center, overlooking the Carroll Gardens/ Crown Heights (right neighborhood?) shortly after being remanded back into custody after being out on ball for not even 30 days, following nearly 8 months on Rikers Island, which was excruciating enough in and of itself. Needless to say, my unexpected reintroduction into yet another lion’s den, after such a brief taste of freedom, was nothing short of a bad hit”, leaving the proceeding mood to be plenty somber. And so commences the woeful narrative of a young man in reflection.
House Lights:  Dim Music:  Cur ominous/dramatic, foreshadowing Jazz Note:  Written as if in Retrospection from some point in the future. So, let’s get this out of the way. between 21 and 25 I was in and out of jail. Yes, me the handsome suburban “white” boy. I had two major stints each lasting about a year (second on more like 3) with maybe a year and some change of freedom in between. You better believe there is nothing more soul-crushing than getting your life back together after a year in the “can”, just to have it taken from you all over again. Sure, I’m responsible for ending up there in first place, I made some poor, impulsive decisions I mean, sue me. Who makes many good decisions in their early twenties anyway? I just happen to have been in that small majority (oxymoron?) of poor suckers who get caught, mainly because I got to be one of those assholes so full of myself, I never thought it would happen to me. Some things I wish I could take back, but other aspects of it I am grateful for and would consider an instrumental part of my personal evolution. Why was I in jail you ask? Well the finer details will have to be suspend until a much lengthier piece comes into being, but the long short of it is the result of my menacing and hostile behavior resulting from emotional instability and substance abuse. Had I been healthier and more stable at the times of my arrest, probably none of it would have ever happened, but we can't turn back time and I've long since come to terms with paying the price of allowing myself to get spread so thin and become so unhealthy to the point where I’ve lashed out at those around me. While I’m far from playing the victim in any context, it's still ridiculous that I even did time for the petty bullshit I got myself wrapped up in, but in the end, I take responsibility for my actions and after all the insanity, I think I can say with confidence that I'm a better man for it.  Even more grateful am I than for the lessons I learned along the way, are the amazing people I was blessed enough to cross paths with, who also, totally did not deserve to be there, just as they felt about me. Some people just have “dumb luck” enough, I guess, to get their hand caught in the cookie jar, doing something the law makers” generally from upon. Rut just because you may have allegedly done questionable in the eyes of society, one cannot fairly or appropriately labeled a bad person”, something which needs serious clarification here. Just because you've been to jail or even have a felony as a result, doesn't mean society reserves the right to judge or even stigmatize you (even though they do, the fuckers). A majority of civilians, not much unlike yourself, have no idea how the criminal justice system really works (how could you without having experienced it first hand?) and to what degree it victimizes and deliberately, calculatingly dismantles the lives of some very good, if at most misguided, “impulse control lacking” individuals, who have had the misfortune of, more or less, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. A majority of people who even end up arrested are victimized by some king of discrimination (a huge issue to be revisited another time), a mental breakdown we’ve all bad those moments), or guilt by association (some people truly are innocent and get caught in the crossfire of hanging with the wrong crowd). Now, once they have their slimy claws in you, they'll bleed you dry, break you down and do everything they can to kill your spirit, backing you into a corner where you're ready to hang it un or plead guilty just to get the hell out of jail (or onto state prison, which gets the clock ticking), which la not the most pleasant place to be to say the least. It's certainly not terrible (surprising, hub?), this is isn't Hollywood people, but it's no Holiday Inn either, as they say. So, after a couple of months of fighting the power, no matter how proud, strong, or rebellious you are, just about everyone sets themselves up to be haunted by this enslavement, in some way, for the rest of their lives. End of Entry #1 (to be expanded upon?)
Entry #2: Postured for a new day/first post launch of a new blog/publication whatever the kids are calling it these days. Hey Everybody and welcome to the disorienting documentation of my mind-boggling life (As if you care [laughs]). First, let me start by saying that I think this journey I am (we are) about to embark on is absolutely friggin’ ridiculous, but for some reason it appears to be one of the necessary evils of modern life for anyone who wants to be noticed for anything. Gone are the days of the next big thing showing up on a street corner, strumming a six string for space change. No those days are long gone and have been replaced by compulsive teenyboppers (is that even a category anymore?) and obsessive narcissists compulsively posting self-indulgent excrement out on every social media outlet available. Regardless of how socially retarded people have become as a result, for some freakish reason, it works People are gaining notoriety from this dysfunction, fame ever (or some bizarre degree of it) And even though human beings are gradually losing their ability to function naturally and normally in everyday life, thanks to their addiction to living though palm sized screens, this is how anything worth knowing about, gets circulated. Or at least that’s what the marketing professionals would like us to believe. While dinosaurs like me might go to the library, pick up a newspaper, drop by a community center, or peruse a bulletin board at a local coffee shop, the greater percentage of “society” is thumb-tapping their way through the search bar of their preferred information engine. I guess at the end of the day there’s nothing wrong with it except of course, the inability to say hello to a passing stranger, or get through a meal without checking for alerts, which is so incredibly rude, by the way. I suppose it's just about time that I catch up with the rest of the wonderfully dystopian populace. Like the old saying goes: “if you can’t fight’em, join'em”. So here I am world. From here on in you’re going to get to completely invade my privacy whether you like it or not. Because whether you care to cyberstalk me or otherwise, the people I'm looking for might just take notice and maybe, just maybe, it will bring me closer to my goals. So get ready world, as I post, tweet click, and ping my way through the twenty first century, while I attempt not to throw up all over myself and everything I value about my individuality. Here's to kissing that all Goodbye. Here's to my rebirth as a regular ratchet ho. End of Entry #2 Note: Disorienting originally was “Digital” after typing it up I see it probably should have been changed. Note: this could also be used as part of a fictional storyline/script as I'm not sure I could lower myself to actually publishing this.
Entry #3: Reminiscence Rant Can you remember when everything was just fucking awesome? I can. What, in God's most holy name, happened to those mind-bogglingly epic adventures? The endless nights and following morning where we wandered for miles peaking on LSD, experiencing the supernatural, making friends with homeless cartoon characters and stubborn runaway suburban kids calling themselves “gutterpunks” and “Occupiers”. What happened to the times when, all of a sudden, I'm on a subway wearing a stolen skintight glitter shirt, doing backflips next to a girl rocking a panda-bear cap with these stupid little gloves hanging like arms from either end of the accessory, while on the way to some disgusting, mold infested, totally illegal, basement rave with the illest DJs on the planet spinning the most face meltingly ass-shaking, torso-wiggling, abso-fucking-lutely, subatomically intoxicating dubstep that these ear pieces have ever had the pleasure of being blown away by. Bassdropping capsules of MDMA while being passed an endless chain of blunts until after what feels like no time at all, someone is shaking me awake, and just when I’m about to question if any of this is real, a fat glow in the dark Eskimo shapeshifter, ever so gently guides me to the exit which opens to reveal the painful slap In the face of bright, 8 in the morning daylight, only to look at mv fellow nightlife cohorts who are smiling, still wired, totally ready to continue the adventure; the words “what do we do now?” never once crossing the mind, as the flow that we're grooving with is unquestionably sure of itself. Man, how I miss those sacred moments. Will I ever get them back? Or is my yearning for them and desire to pursue or force moments like those into being. Exactly what is keeping them out of my life? Better yet, maybe those kinds of ridiculous things are only allowed to happen at certain points of one’s youth when even attempting to live so irresponsibly is even an iota within the realm of acceptable and to pursue such experiences is categorically “juvenile”? Well, fuck that!! I have faith, yet. One day, I'm gonna breath in the taste of that on-top-of-the-world air, no matter how old I get. I don’t care what anybody says. There’s no cut off age for soulshaking borderline religious experiences, never-going-to-feel-the-same-way-about-having fun. Sure, we all do have to accept reality and the responsibilities of adulthood, but that’s no reason to get bitter. Just because it’s not happening for us right now, and there seems like there are still people out there, yet to step off the “magical schoolbus.” But, how do we get back on? Does all of this fall into that realm of philosophical conversations we have at three O'clock in the morning, stoned, contemplating the meaning of life and the pursuit of happiness? It might just be. Maybe all of this just falls into the very personal narrative of my never ending quest to he truly happy, a point which I'm presently a ways from.
Having been there before, I know I'll be there again and while I'm not terribly depressed at the moment, it doesn't seem all that far away. In fact, I have a more or less framework plan for how I'm going to get there when I move on from where I’m at now, but the first step is getting out of this place. Part of me is just totally stunned at life’s great contrast. How can you go from being a happy go lucky, free spirits urban street showman, to living in a cesspool of society’s unwanted pregnancies, in what feels like a blink of an eye? Boy does time fly. What feels like yesterday, simultaneously feels like eons ago. A lifetime ago. Earlier today, some mad at the world hoodrat wannabee gangster told me I sounded like an old man, reminiscing over decades of life.
To which I responded: I’ve lived. That I sure have. I’m 23 years old and I've lived a lot of life, the details for which I’ve got little to show for other than my own words and the culmination of institution records labeling me as Bipolar, criminal, drug abuser. That's right. On paper, I’m a dual diagnosis, polysubstance abusing, mentally-ill criminal, presently laid up in jail, the lone “white-boy” in a sea of “brown” skin, for some strange reason perceived to be rich, Jewish or both, nicknamed after any celebrity I can possibly bear resemblance to, for allegedly roughing up my wife during a record breaking psychotic melt-down. In a world where the credentials hold more water than the person they represent, I'm a mentally-ill, drug addict, criminal who has a problem with women – who doesn't? Do you know how this looks? Seriously this is what I've been reduced to. These are the highlights of my "career”. In the eyes of society, I'm some kind of monster, a scumbag. I've somehow gotten myself lumped into the category which the mainstream media would call “marginalized”. Me, the kid in highschool with the long curly hair, who wore patchwork tie-dye jeans and Victorian blouses, looking like a white Jimmy Hendrix, or someone straight out of Prince music video, who just wanted to share the Love, pass the buds, and give everyone a hug. The kid who was dubbed “most likely to be famous” in his graduating class yearbook, who everyone knew just wanted to save the world, one smile at a time. And I still do, but my updated methodology is a bit more practical these days. Now, I have a stigma to live with, all of which completely overshadows and nullifies that at the age of 22 I incorporated and developed a thriving start-up, destined for success which was abruptly cut short by my untimely run in with the Law – a result of my unfortunate emotional instability which emerged from the fallout of a tumultuous and ultimately failed relationship with my now ex-wife, who I became married to and divorced from, all while behind bars. But that is another story for another time. We are, after all, just beginning to scratch the surface of this crazy rollercoaster which is my life. At this stage I don’t see the point of sugar coating any of It. No matter how bad any of it looks. I'm proud of who I am, the positive things I’ve accomplished (however overshadowed). I’m destined to achieve even greater success than that which I feel I have already tasted and I will never be ashamed of the nasty details. I love who I am and no matter how much this backwards system tries to victimize and marginalize me, I'm never going to let them snuff out this light. The End (For now)
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G1 Episode 32: Transcript
Episode Show Notes
[This can also be found on AO3!]
[Stinger]
S: Well... I mean, it would do a lot of damage to  humans.
[Intro Music]
O: Hello, welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon.  I'm Owls.
S: And I'm Specs.
O: And today we're going to be talking about episode number 32, Megatron's Master Plan - Part 2!  Ah, you... dear listener, may notice that something sounds a little off today. [laughs] And that's because you've happened upon the first episode we've recorded since the whole Coronavirus thing hit where we are.  I mean really hit where we are.  So we are having to record separately and you're gonna hear some kind of wonky sound quality.  We're doing the best we can, but uh... yeah this is- this is kind of what we got to deal with right now.  Uh, let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?
S: Sure, let's do that.
O: [laughs] All right, last time on The Transformers… A local municipal government kicked the Autobots off Earth leaving the Decepticons completely unchallenged.  Also, the Autobots are hurtling towards the Sun.
S: So obviously... it's the perfect time for a parade.
O: If you remember, last time Megatron framed the Autobots for being the  true villains.  So the same city, Central City, is now having a parade for the Decepticons.
S: [sighs] It’s Decepticon Day.
O: Talk about an about face! [laughs]
S: Yep, considering that it- like, literally two days ago it was Autobot Day.
O: Right!?!  Like, just- is- is every day a holiday in Central City?
S: [sighs] Maybe?
O: [laughs] 
S: [sighs] So, the Decepticons are marching down the middle of the street.  Which... well, is more um, interesting than what the Autobots were doing.
O: Yeah, at least they’re in robot mode.  I mean mostly because having a jet fly through the street would be strange, but not more strange than a gun flying through the street? [laughs]  Starscream asks Megatron effectively, “Why are we doing this?”  Megatron says he has his  reasons.
S: And those reasons are ego stroking.
O: Megatron just needs more positive affirmation in his life, Specs!
S: [sighs] Oh, he wants everyone to suck up to him.
O: Pretty much, yeah.
S: Uh, Sparkplug and Chip wonder how the public bought this grade-a bullshit, but they say Spike is still looking for answers.
O: So, does this mean Spike's been missing for like, two days straight?  Like, has he been under that arena for two days straight?
S: Spike, boy detective.
O: [laughs]
S: No one questions where the hell he goes.
O: No one!
S: And speaking of Spike, we see him uh, in the video control room from last time.  Where he is watching an entirely different clip of the fake Optimus Prime being revealed as Starscream then he was watching previously.
O: [snorts] So, in the last episode it was a clip of Starscream taking off the Optimus head in front of the oil fill- field that was in the last episode.  But here, it's instead a clip where he's standing in the middle of a city, takes off the Optimus head and the rest of the Optimus costume just sort of crumbles around him.
S: Well, that costume really wasn't very well made.
O: It had  a lot of use, okay!  It held up perfectly fine for the past two years!  …With daily use.
S: Ha!  Ah, they’ve been getting their cosplay on.
O: Probably!
S: [snickers]
O: I mean, we already know that Starscream can do a spot on Optimus impression, if last episode is any indication, let's be honest.
S: Yep.  Ravage attacks, and Spike defends himself with a chair, but like, kinda badly.
O: [laughs] Then he knocks over the lone like, shelf of videotapes on top of Ravage and runs off and that's how he gets away.
S: Yep, uh, so then we cut to a gym where the Decepticons have apparently been invited to prom!
O: Of course!  We see Rumble, Soundwave, Ravage, and Laserbeak are all on the dance floor, and I have to ask... did Ravage decide to let Spike go so he could go to this dance?  Also, he is extra cute here.  Just adorable.
S: I don't know.  I guess at some point Ravage was just like, screw this bullshit.
O: [laughs] Screw this I'm not chasing this kid halfway through the city when I can go get tiny finger foods in a gym.
S: One lone, brave, dumbass, walks up to Laserbeak and says, “Laserbeak want a cracker?”  And it's like, ohhh... this man's cruisin’ for a bruisin’.
O: And then we just get this close up of Laserbeak eyes glowing before we cut to the Autobots.  So th- that was definitely the equivalent of ‘he looks at the camera like he's in the office,’ right?
S: Mm-hmm, and in space, Cosmos is leading the Autobot ship away from Earth.
O:  COSMOS!   My baby!
S: The Autobots make their displeasure at being kicked off Earth known to Optimus Prime.
O: Ironhide’s pissed.
S: Cliffjumper, jumps off some cliffs.
O: You know, some metaphorical ones.
S: Optimus tries to turn the ship around, but uh, pressing, you know, random buttons does absolutely nothing for him.
O: Of course not.  So then Hound, somehow triangulates their location with his shoulder-mounted canon- holoform projector-
S: Why didn't they just ask Cosmos?
O: Cosmos must just be outside thinking, “They must know, right?  They must know they're headed towards the Sun.” [laughs]
S: So the Autobots are headed toward the Sun and they are really upset about their imminent fiery death, and Prime tells Cosmos to get in contact with Teletraan I.
O: Oh, poor Cosmos rotates so much in his alt mode, do you think he gets dizzy?
S: Maybe.
O: [laughs]
S: But obviously Teletraan I is not available right now for- well, if you remember the last episode very, very, obvious reasons.
O: A Fusion Cannon full of reasons! [laughs]
S: Yep, and the bots start to heat up as they approach the Sun.  I have so many questions about how they're able to go so fast.
O: [laughs] Well, disregarding any train of logic, because we know what show we're watching.  Cosmos transforms and enters the ship, pressing even  more  random buttons in an effort to get them to turn around.  Then we cut to the Decepticon Business Operation Center, or you know, the Decepticon main base, where Megatron watches the screen showing the Autobot ship hurtling into the Sun.
S: Okay, apparently- apparently Megatron has uh, cameras in space, somehow.
O: So…
S: Or god, maybe he just sent Astrotrain up there?
O: Or Buzzsaw, maybe?  Just out- up there taking footage?  I mean this- this has got to be perfectly shot, you know, it's gonna be his gloating footage from the next century!
S: Oh, next millennia.
O: Definitely! [laughs]
S: Oh, and then Mr. Berger is there, somehow.  Whining about getting his three cities, which seems... I don't know.  Three cities, apparently he wants to rule three cities.
O: Heh, small price-  a small price to pay for Earth.  Uh, Megatron calls him pathetic, and quite frankly I have to agree.
S: Yeah.  Megatron uh, counts down before the ship explodes.
O: We then see the Decepticons leave their base because and I quote they have a, “Press conference.”
S: [sighs] Soundwave must have a very busy time managing their, you know, their schedule.  That’s-
O: Ah, that’s not till Cyberverse where he becomes their social media guy. [laughs]
S: Yes, but who's managing the- who's managing their schedule now?  Skywarp?  Can you just imagine that?
O: [laughs] He would be doing very badly.  My brain actually went- Berger, obviously, is scheduling all this shit right now but… fuck if I know.  If- if- if one of the Cons is doing it, it’s definitely Ss- Soundwave.
S: Mm-hmm, and in the mayor's office, Spike has- Spike’s arrived at the mayor's office and is showing the mayor the video clip. To which the mayor calls it ‘conclusive evidence’.
O: Wai-wai-wait-
S: God-
O: So, this is like the same tape they gave Berger- the same tape they showed on TV, right?  Did- did no one watch the entire tape, at any point in this!?!
S: Apparently not, umm, yeah.
O: Argh!  HOW!?! [breaks down into laughter]
S: I don't know, it doesn't even look like they did any editing, um…
O: You know, beside from them swapping between a city and an oil field, somewhere, at some point during this video. [laughs]
S: [sighs] The mayor says, “How could we have been so stupid?”
O: You said it, sir, not me!  And then we cut to a house that looks bigger on the inside than the out.
S: No, no, really, the outside looks like a rundown farmhouse but the inside looks, you know, kinda like a McMansion.
O: And then a little kid is complaining about not having any metal colored crowns because he was trying to color a picture of Megatron.
S: And the child was holding a gray crayon at this moment.
O: Okay, but seriously that was really freaking quick to have a Decepticon coloring book released!
S: Berger obviously rushed- rush printed it.
O: In 72 hours?
S: Somehow.
O: [laughs] Or less!?!  I- I’m not even sure that it’s been 72 hours, I might actually be OVER-estimating that.
S: At the press conference Megatron reveals his true intentions towards Earth and it is unsurprising.
O: And I quote, one of the reporters says, “We’ve been had!”  Why did he decide to do this at a press conference?
S: Megatron just craves the drama.
O: All of the drama, apparently.
S: Mm.
O: Berger, at this very moment, realizes he's made a horrible, horrible mistake.
S: And his own bodyguards turn against him and rush the stage.  And considering his bodyguards are armed with like, machine guns... yeah.  Starscream demonstrates like, his finger zappies, zapping the guards so they drop those guns.
O: I mean, I have to give them credit, they definitely were better armed than the guys with handguns that keep trying to shoot at the Decepticons.
S: Yeah… yeah.
O: [laughs] And then Megatron says, “The city is under martial law and I'm the marshal!”  I'd like to order one Megatron in a cowboy hat, stat?
S: Oh god, a Megatron sized cowboy hat.
O: Oh my god, it would be completely ridiculous, I love it. [laughs]
S: You could probably get one for your Megatron.
O: I probably could, the question is should I? [laughs]
S: Yes.
O: Or I’m imagining getting one of those like, Barbie ones.  So it’s completely the wrong color.  It's like, Megatron is now wearing a light pink cowboy hat. [laughs]
S: Yes.
O: [laughs harder]
S: Get- get one with that, and had one in sort of gray or black that matches his-
O: Oh, obviously it has to be black, obviously.
S: Yeah, hmm, so the Coneheads cause havoc in the city.
O: Which Megatron dubs the city, ‘Megatronia I’.
S: His naming scheme is basically the same one Alexander the Great used for cities he'd conquered or founded.
O: Do you think it was as egotistical with Alexander the Great as it is here?
S: Maybe?
O: [snorts] We have no way of knowing.
S: Yeah, and Berger waxes poetic about having seen the Autobots’ death to Spike and company.
O: Spike is in fact, stupid enough to try and do something and Soundwave sends Laserbeak and Ravage after him.
S: Ravage goes tumbling into a pile of equipment and Mr. Berger takes out Laserbeak with a mic stand.  But not that Spike gets very far... before uh, Megatron takes Sparkplug and Chip hostage.
O: I will never, not be amused by how they pick up Chip, it’s so adorable.
S: And then, well, the Decepticons being, you know, very predictable, put all the humans to work as slaves collecting energy.
O: And then, elsewhere in  SPACE!
S: Huh, through quick thinking and inspired use of Trailbreaker’s forcefield, Cosmos is towing all of the Autobots back to Earth.
O: Wait.  No.  They're definitely heading back towards the Sun.
S: Because somehow Cosmos’ autopilot is controlled by Teletraan I, which is, you know, not horrifying at all.
O: Not horrifying-
S: No, it's actually terribly horrifying.
O: Right, like, let's just- let's just override the free will of our one spaceship bot, this is fine!
S: Mm- hmm.
O: And then, Chip manages to escape from the factory where they're all being held and- when Spike stages a distraction so he can get out, basically.
S: Spike does this by pushing a cart full of Energon cubes at Rumble.
O: And then yells at Chip to, “Roll!”  Maybe keep your mouth shut and not draw attention to your friend trying to escape, dude!
S: Yeah, they really should have, you know, talked this out beforehand instead of madcap decisions.
O: Spike, talk things out, plan things- does he even know how to do that?
S: Maybe not.
O: [laughs]
S: Soundwave sees Chip escape, but Megatron's like, “He's harmless.”  Regardless, um, he sends Thrust out to retrieve him.
O: And Chip is able to escape in the back of a cargo truck, and is able to reach Teletraan I.
S: Thrust, uh- um  thrusts  his way into a mountain and proceeds to get to Chip, and honestly that is kind of terrifying.
O: Yeah, apparently that's all you needed to do to get into the Autobot base was just send Thrust in! [laughs]
S: Like, he literally goes through the mountain, he doesn't use the goddamn door.
O: He doesn’t use a goddamn door, and he like, comes from above?
S: Yes.
O: It- it looks like he went straight through the mountain like, not through the side.  Straight freaking down a mountain.
 S: Yep.
O: So, obviously Chip is upset when Thrust destroys Teletraan, but this is ultimately what frees up Cosmos’ navigation.
S: Thrust recaptures Chip, so… poor Chip is-
O: Back to the factory we go! [laughs]
S: Yup.
O: And the Air Force finally shows up at the factory, and then Megatron goes to order Starscream to attack them, but Starscream interrupts him says he anticipated Megatron's order- er, order and then he leaves by way of busting out the ceiling.
S: Because no one can use a fucking door in this episode.
O: No they can't.  The other jets, including Blitzwing, take to the air and fight the Air Force.
S: I don't remember um, Astrotrain being in this so maybe Astrotrain was the one taking the video.
O: [laughs] Maybe, maybe, he can fly through space, this is a fair statement.
S: Or maybe it was you know, both Astrotrain and Buzzsaw so they could get different angles.
O: [laughs] Yes!  Obviously, Megatron needs multiple angles of his totally erotic frenemie’s death.  Yes, yes, yes, this is exactly what happened.
B: [laugh]
S: And you know, Buzzsaw needs a ride back.  He can fly perfectly fine but that might be a bit- a bit of a long distance.
O: Of a long trek, yeah, yeah.
S: Oh, the Cons threaten to destroy the entire city if the Air Force comes back, but immediately afterwards the Autobots show up.
O: Megatron hears them, blasts through the wall, and then runs outside.
S: No one can use a damn door.
O: I mean, do they ever really use doors very well anyway?
S: Well, when they have to exit their- when the Decepticons have to exit their ship, yes.  Because if they don't-
O: Water would get in.
S: Yeah, Megs is super upset, because he saw the Autobots explode dammit!
O: Of course, you know, a fight breaks out.
S: And you know, after the firefight, Megatron orders a retreat.
O: And then the mayor apologizes, as does Berger, who offers to disband his private army.
S: Ohhhh, my god he even calls at this private army.  Berger, you should be charged.
O: Yeah, he really should.
S: Sparkplug tells him that uh, his private army already quit when they found out what a ‘dog's lunch’ he was.
O: That’s a new insult, or a really old one I have never heard of.
S: It's... British?  It means a clusterfuck maybe, or…?
O: Sparkplug, most interesting man in the world.
S: I don't know, I mean, if it's based off of like ‘dog's dinner’ or something maybe, I don't know.
O: Yeah, I think like, we tried to look up where it was from and if- we came to: British, clusterfuck, apparently.
S: Yeah… yeah.
O: So Optimus tells Berger he’s gonna stand trial for his sins!
S: Presumably they won't be shooting him into the Sun if he loses.
O: And then the Autobots head home, with their squishies in tow.  So, join us next time for episode 33, “Auto Berserk”!  Red Alert gets bonked on the head and is suddenly paranoid about everyone and everything except Starscream.
S: Who is the worst person to not be paranoid about.
O: Exactly, [laughs] that is exactly.  All right, we have two of my wildcard fics for tonight.  The first of which is, “Not the Yuck!” by ladydragon76.  It is based in the IDW continuity, it is G, it is Gen, there are no pairings.  Our characters are Bob, Megatron, and Sunstreaker.  And if you haven't read the IDW comics, Bob is an Insecticon, who basically is kind of Sunstreaker's pet?  Uh, in summary, “Bob must help Megatron!” and this is a one-shot.
S: Nice, it sounds good.
O: It's very cute.  It's short, but it's very cute.  Um, honestly Bob needs to be in more fanfics, in my humble opinion.  He's adorable… 
S: He’s-
O: But what do I know. [laughs]
S: He's like, Sunstreaker’s service- service animal-
O: Yeah, a little bit.
S: Service bug.
O: Service bug, yeah, he's such a cute little bug!  Who’s probably as big as my car, but I can totally call him little if I want to. [laughs]
S: I think bigger than your car.
O: Probably, probably, considering what we’re talking about.  And then our second fic is, “Forgetful, but not Forgotten” by ShiTiger.  It is IDW, G, Gen, no pairings.  Our characters are Rung, Censere [Sin-sare]… is that how you say his name?
S: I... I guess it’s as good as anything, cuz I tend to think of it as Censere [Sin-cere]?
O: Okay, it- one of those two names, but that guy.  Uh, Red Alert, Ultra Magnus, Rodimus, Primus, and Mortalis.  So, in summary, “What if the remaining 4 members of the Guiding Hand were able to absorb Adaptus’ blast before it hit the rest of the planet. But rather than everyone forgetting who they were, THEY were the only ones who forgot their true identities. (E- Epistemus has a body in this AU).”  And then this is a one shot.
And then our fan artist for today is Pirate-Cashew.  They have some very lovely work, and today we've linked to an assortment of different Transformers busts and a comic called, “Grimlock Goes to the Store,” which is every bit as delightful as you're imagining.
S: I remember that.  That one was fun.
O: I know right?  It's adorable.  But honestly, I love- I love Grimlock, in the IDW comics he’s pretty great.  Speaking of Censere [Sin-sare], or whatever the fu- or however the hell we pronounce his name.  Um, there's fanart of him as well, so… yay.
S: Actually,  I pulled- I pulled up a thing it's um, the pronunciation of it.
O: Oh, okay, what is it?
S: Sin-sir-ra.
O: Huh, that is not what I would have landed on, but that guy.  And then, uh-
S: At least that's what it is in Latin, I guess.
O: Eh, that would make sense, a lot of their names do have Latin roots.  And then there's some more busts that include eh, Perceptor and Pharma.
S: Oh, yeah, I feel like-
O: Pharma’s not the main attraction here for me but… [laughs]
S: I liked their Misfire.
O: Misfire is pretty great.  I'm sad, I know he pops up at like, the tail end of G1 and I'm like, so used to him actually having a character in the comic. [sighs] So sad. [laughs]
S: And that just about wraps it up for us today.  Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned.  You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word), and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast, such as AO3, iTunes, Google Podcasts, Stitcher, and Youtube, just to name a few.  And feel free to send us questions on Tumblr or YouTube.  Till next time, I’m Specs.
O: And I’m Owls!
S: Toodles!
[Outro Music]
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theliterateape · 6 years
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Meghan Trainor is this Generation’s Andy Kaufman
By David Himmel
I never liked Meghan Trainor’s music, though my brain worked really, really hard to convince me that I did. Her brand of music is not too far out of line with much of the other silly, sugary pop music I am fond of: Teenage Dream Katy Perry, Carly Rae Jepsen, Ariana Grande, occasionally The Killers, Tommy Mottola Mariah Carey and horny Mariah Carey, The Archies, pre-British Madonna, all disco.
But I sensibly resisted the urge to embrace Trainor’s brand of pop because it felt too forced in musical production and lyrical content. Too forced for the quality of pop she was giving us. Trainor was swinging for the fences and landing doubles at best.
I hadn’t heard any of her hack girlie doo-wop in quite a while. It was nice having forgotten all about her. But then, while running an errand at the Bucktown Office Max the other day, her song Me Too played over the store speakers. (It’s important to note that the title of this song has nothing to do whatsoever with the #MeToo movement. It was released in May 2016 long before any of us seemed to actively care about what men did with their dicks at work.) The song was stuck in my head for the rest of the day and it got me thinking about Trainor’s entire cultural existence.
During my afternoon bathroom break with my iPad on my lap, I dove into a Meghan Trainor wormhole to sort out exactly what was so terrible about her music. I considered the shallow, braggadocios lyrics, the over-produced production, that white-collar-suburban-virgin-girl-imitating-a-black-street-thug accent she sings with, and the regurgitated and repurposed musical cues she uses in each song when it dawned on me. Meghan Trainor is not an annoying musician or a pop sensation; Meghan Trainor is this generation’s Andy Kaufman, and she’s fucking with us.
I know there are people who like her music. It resonates with the simpletons who can’t get past a memorable hook no matter how limp or wretched it is. On March 1, Trainor dropped another single, No Excuses, and it’s exactly what you’d expect from a Meghan Trainor pop song. 
But Trainor is not a pop musician. Trainor is a performance artist, a social satirist using pop music and YouTube videos to skewer our modern culture. There’s just no way the person who writes and performs the song Me Too isn’t making fun of something.
It is a misfortune that the song shares a title with the movement against sexual harassment because in so many ways, Trainor’s tune exists in a world where self-awareness and dignity do not, themselves, exist. Lyrically, the song is a clumsy brag about how Trainor is happy with who she is and with her life. All that positive self-image stuff is great. Then, three lines in, it takes a twisted turn when she demands that we respect her because of the gold necklace she wears, and then insists that everyone wants to be her because her life is a movie. Not like a movie, but an actual movie. Assuming that we want to be her because she has a gold necklace and an entourage is pretty shallow and assumes that we are equally shallow. And maybe we are. And I have come to believe that Trainor is churning out this kind of dreck to point out just how delusional and self-absorbed we’ve become.
Dear Future Husband, a single released in March 2015 off her first album, takes the hateful and foolish trope of “Happy wife, happy life” and turns it into a list of vengeful demands and paltry rewards. She lists exactly what she wants and requests that her husband must comply no matter how ridiculous the request. Furthermore, she promotes the stereotype of wives weaponizing sex against their husbands.
 “After every fight Just apologize And maybe then I'll let you try and rock my body right (right) Even if I was wrong [Laugh] You know I'm never wrong Why disagree? Why, why disagree?”
This song is obscenely anti-feminist, and in a unique way, entirely misogynist because of the way it promotes the negative stereotypes of wives and marriage. It’s the only thing unique about any Trainor song. If she’s not putting us on by showing us how absolutely stupid a marriage that she is describing is, then the song is nothing more than blubbering idiocy — the creation of a girl who learned about marriage through only King of Queens and Lockhorns cartoons.
Dear Future Husband wasn’t the first song of Trainor’s that brought accusations of anti-feminism. Her first hit, the big one, the one that actually out performed Michael Jackson’s Beat It on the charts, All About that Bass appeared to be an anthem for body confidence. It was aimed at heavier people, curvier people. All that is fine and well until she takes a shot at “them skinny bitches,” though she does quickly admit to “just playin’.” Still, the crux of the song rests on the pre-chorus, which describes how her mother tells Meghan to not worry about her size because “boys like a little more booty to hold at night.” In my case, she’s not wrong. But to place body positivity on how much sex you’ll have seems counterintuitive to everything reasonable feminists of all sizes and shapes have been working toward for decades.
There’s no way Trainor is that tone deaf. She’s no stranger to the entertainment industry having signed a publishing deal at age 17. Even those who deny the serious inequality and unfairness women face each day in entertainment — and everywhere else in our  culture — know that it exists. Thing is, they’ll deny it. Trainor blatantly promotes it. Therefore, she must be making a satirical, even farcical stance on the issues of the day.
No, which was released two years ago this month, is like Bass in that it seemed like an empowering anthem for anyone who’s ever had to face unwanted advances. The chorus is absolute and strong — lyrically, anyway. In typical Trainor fashion, it sounds like a privileged teenage white girl posing as a street-hardened black girl during a high school talent show, thus losing its credibility. And if that doesn’t do it, this verse will:
“Thank you in advance, I don’t wanna dance (nope) I don’t need your hands all over me If I want a man, Then I’mma get a man But it’s never my priority”
We know that’s bullshit. Bass and Husband are entirely about getting a man. Many of her songs are about boys and gettin' some. There's nothing wrong with that. Not at all. You don't have to write a song lying about it, unless, of course, you're fucking with us, which she must be. Like so many pop songs, the content revolves around gaining and losing love. When a pop songs takes itself too seriously, it loses its impact. See the most recent Taylor Swift and Katy Perry efforts.
As I stated, Trainor is not an overnight sensation. She’s been hustling professionally in this game for almost a decade. She has to know what she’s doing. A 17-year-old doesn’t get a publishing deal if she doesn’t understand the power of pop.
Andy Kaufman’s (and Bob Zmuda’s) Tony Clifton was everything horrible and outdated in show business. The Clifton character, and many other Kaufman performances were meant to confuse us, enrage us, make us laugh. Sometimes all three. Kaufman’s commitment to the Clifton character was so intense that Andy would completely disappear leaving Tony to take the wheel. They functioned as two completely separate individuals, and neither of them would offer even the slightest wink to the truth and the game.
Trainor has done this, too. She has created a pop star character that confuses us, enrages us and makes us laugh with lyrics that may as well have been penned by a coked up chimp with a leaky Bic pen, and musical production headed up by that same chimp with double the cocaine. What statement is she trying to make? I’m not totally sure. But I am damn sure that Meghan Trainor cannot be taken at face value, and we must recognize her twisted efforts even if it is just pop music.
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skeletonsinherheart · 7 years
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“I’m sorry. I’m so…sorry.”
What is it that keeps me going. Is it really just the violence? A way to bleed it out without actually doing it? Or feeling it? Because that’s what I’ve chosen. To bleed out. Yes it hurts…God does it ever. But as it seems, no matter what pain this brings me, I know you still want it. Just as much as I still want it no matter what pain it brings me. Or rather, brings us. I know this is difficult for you just as it is for me. You didn’t say much in the way of just how much this affects you, but you didn’t really have to. I saw it all behind your eyes and written across your face. The last few days alone without talking to you have been really hard, I had to stop myself from reaching out more times than I’d like to admit. From the moment you left me, up until the moment I decided to send this. But I’m sure I didn’t need to tell you that for you to know. At this point, I don’t care what you say or what blame you try to shoulder, I’ve done this to myself. But I feel that…there exists an equal amount of pain in this for me as there is life, so much life. An existence and feeling that I didn’t even realize I had been lacking until you woke me up. An awakening of connection. Of my body mind, soul. All of them yours, and only yours. You don’t just own me in a dom way, you own me as a whole. No matter what you choose. No matter where I look, at whoever I look for. And you tell me that if I only see you, I may miss another. But I don’t think you understand. 
There is nothing left for me to search for, to try to find. There is nothing for me to miss. You are everything. Everything about you fits into me, and it’s as effortless as breathing with you. Something I humorously seem to have quite a bit of trouble with when you’re around. It’s like you are me. Much as I have tried to ignore it, rationalize it away, compartmentalize it, you’ve seeped into me, deeper than any hands could ever reach. And no matter what I do from this point forward, I have absorbed you so deeply that I don’t think I could ever be rid of you. I could disappear from your life completely and never speak to you again, and all of this would still remain the same. When I look at you, when you stare back, I see universes staring back at me. All of them, all at once, spanning the entirety of infinity. When I look at you, I see you. I don’t think you understand.
Never in my life has any one person made me…FEEL…so much, so strongly, so often. Each time you have come around, your entire being has managed to demolish and level every manner of protection I ever saw fit to build. You burnt everything to the ground. Every wall, every corner marked with caution tape, every sign that read Do Not Enter. And each time, all it took was your eyes. Twice in the span of 6 months has fire been the source destruction in my life, of everything else I had left, inside and out. The real fire, which you have now seen the remains of with your own eyes, and you. And now I don’t know what it is that I’m left with. Smoldering rubble? Ash? Do I mourn the loss? Or revel in the destruction? Because destruction spawns creation. But, the question is now, the creation of what? Because I refuse to believe that your reappearance into my life is an accident. A mistake. Chance. I believe it to be creation, no matter what you think. Build. Destroy. Rebuild. Whatever this is…whatever we have, it is something that is one in a million, in every facet. Maybe one day what you said comes true. I find someone. I love them. They love me. But I would be settling for something that is second best, because I believe that my soul will always be searching for you, wherever you are. According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. And to be completely honest, I truly believe that is what I have stumbled upon. When I once again heard my name in your mouth, the ground felt like a language I hadn’t spoken in years. I forgot everything I knew about gravity, and everything else. I’ve mentioned to you before that I want a great many things from you. Would you like to know what some of them are? I want Saturday morning cartoons with you. I want to lay my head in your lap while you watch and introduce me to Doctor Who, because it’s one of the few things I haven’t gotten into yet. I want to watch our favorite shows together at night and we talk about our love or dislike for them. I want to share more Game of Thrones theories all the way through next year until it’s bitter end, and to finish it with you, because how else are either of us supposed to cope with THAT absolutely massive loss on our own, much less with someone who understands? I want to always be there when your hair falls into your eyes so that I can push it back with my fingers. I want your relentless ball busting and sarcasm, day and night, in the morning before I’ve even really woken up, at night when I’m falling asleep with my head on your chest and you flick my ear to wake me up, pretending you didn’t do anything. I want your ridiculous jokes when we’re trying to have a serious talk, or have sex but we just crack jokes and burst out laughing because we can’t help it. (POP - It’s a boy!) I want to watch Bo’s standup with you and share things with you that you haven’t seen so I can watch you laugh, and have you be there to teach me about things I’ve never seen or heard of. I want to buy and build that ridiculous $500 lego Death Star with you, to come home and have it be a project we’re both so excited to work on together and finish. I want to go to Harry Potter world with you, just to watch your eyes light up with excitement the same exact ways that mine do, and be there to watch you get your first wand and taste how sweet and wonderful frozen butterbeer is. I want to bring you Star Wars presents that I know you will love, and I will love them just as much. I want a giant nerd man cave with those beautiful Zelda prints scattered about the walls, and a massive Master Sword and Hylian Shield displayed right along with them. I want to show you Twilight Princess and play it with you, to watch you fall in love with it in all the same ways I did, because it’s clear to me that that’s how things work between us. I want to be there in the future to experience things together for the first time, things we both love and are passionate about. Whether it be games, movies, places….anything and everything. I’d want to have beautiful nerdy little blonde haired Targaryan dragon Slytherin babies with you, a son particularly, and teach him how best to take up our mantle of taking over the world. I want all of your stupid walls and all of your stupid feelings, all the stupid sappy shit we both think are dumb. I want your anger and your pain just as fiercely as I want your happiness and laughter. I want all the parts of you that you refuse to give. Because all I’ve ever done is give people pieces of me that they didn’t deserve, and nowadays I’m never quite sure what is left of me. But whatever is left…whatever you see, I want to give it all to you. I was always okay with just being somebodies someone. But since you, I don’t want to be anyone’s, I want to be your someone. Because I truly believe with every cell in my body that you belong with me. I would do anything in the world for the chance to be the person you come home to every day. Because every time I see you, I feel like I am home. Can you blame me for fighting so hard for that? Even still? How can I not? The last time I saw you, in our finals moments of the fast approaching goodbye, you cradled my face in your hands like I was something. That I meant something. That I was someone. That I mattered. You held every piece of me in that moment. Every burnt, smoldering, bleeding piece. In that moment, I let my face fall, I removed my mask and completely dropped the facade I’ve been so desperately clinging to, and I let you see what my pain really looks like. Utterly vulnerable. Something I do not allow or grant to anyone anymore. But I figure, what else could I possibly have to lose at this point, as I have nothing else. And I know that all of this, everything I’ve written is waaaay too fucking long and I’ve probably edited and added it over 100 times by now, hence the length, as the first draft was a fuckton shorter. And reading it back to myself over and over, it’s all just stupid poetic bullshit, I didn’t say ‘fuck you’ or 'eat a dick’ once so clearly this is way too serious, and neither of us like serious. I hate serious. I hate tears, feeling, emotions. Emotions are stupid and illogical and it drives me insane. But this is what you bring out of me, and I refuse to believe it’s for nothing. If you still choose the same path…you might be able to look her in the face and still put a ring on her finger. But do you think that you will look back and wonder? Picture your life if you had chosen differently? I would. I do. I know what you still want. I know that you love her. And who am I to compete against that and 6 years of time and investment? Nothing. Because you don’t love me, at all. But I ask you to ponder this. Everything that you just read, I want you to picture that as your future. Even if for a moment. Picture the potential of all of it. Because I would take any future with you. I don’t need a big house, fancy cars, fancy anything. I could live in a cardboard box with you and I would still be happy. I wouldn’t need a ring or a stupid piece of paper to tell me anything. I could live forever happy with the simplicity of just being with you. I don’t need much. I don’t. I never have. But…if the prospect of all of that is still not enough, then I’ll have to find a way to deal with that. I don’t know how. I don’t even know if I could. I know this isn’t a fairly tale, but this is something very real. And I know it’s never made logical sense to win in this. Much as I’m never one to ever give up, I still always seem to be the one that loses in the end and I’m tired of it. But again, I’ll have to find a way to deal. I’ve done it a thousand times over, what’s one more. All I know is that it’s far too late for me, because I don’t know how to give up. I never have.
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