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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Enola Holmes: A Not So Elementary Adaptation

It's cliché and a bit unfair to say that the book was better than the film, but I'm afraid that's precisely where I need to start. Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes: The Case of the Missing Marquess is leagues better than Netflix's adaptation of it. They did her work dirty and to say that I'm shocked at the accolades other reviewers are heaping on the film is an understatement. Before I dive into any critiques though, it's worth acknowledging that not every minute of the two hour film was painful to get through. So what worked in Enola Holmes?

The film is carried by the talent of its cast, Millie Bobby Brown being the obvious heavy-hitter. She helps breathe life into a pretty terrible script and it's only a shame her talent is wasted on such a subpar character.

The idea to have Enola continually break the fourth wall, though edging into the realm of Dora the Explorer at times—"Do you have any ideas?"— was nevertheless a fun way to keep the audience looped into her thought process. Young viewers in particular might enjoy it as a way to make them feel like a part of the action and older viewers will note the Fleabag influence.

The cinematography is, perhaps, where most of my praise lies. The rapid cuts between past and present, rewinding as Enola thinks back to some pertinent detail, visualizing the cyphers with close ups on the letter tiles—all of it gave the film an upbeat, entertaining flair that almost made up for how bloated and meandering the plot was.

We got an equally upbeat soundtrack that helped to sell the action.

The overall experience was... fine. In the way a cobbled together, candy-coated, meant to be seen on a Friday night but we watched it Wednesday and then promptly forgot about it film is fine. I doubt Enola Holmes will be winning any awards, but it was a decently entertaining romp and really, does a Netflix film need to be anything more? If Enola was her own thing made entirely by Netflix's hands I wouldn't be writing this review. As it stands though, Enola is both an adaptation and the latest addition to one of the world’s most popular franchises. That's where the film fails: not as a fun diversion to take your mind off Covid-19, but as an adaptation of Springer's work and as a Sherlock Holmes story.

In short, Enola Holmes, though pretty to look at and entertaining in a predictable manner, still fails in five crucial areas:

1. Mycroft is Now a Mustache-Twirling Villain and Sherlock is No Longer Sherlock Holmes

This aspect is the least egregious because admittedly the film didn't pull this version of Mycroft out of thin air. As the head of the household he is indeed Enola's primary antagonist (outside of some kidnappers) and though he insists that he's doing all this for Enola's own good, he does get downright cruel at times:

He rolled his eyes. “Just like her mother,” he declared to the ceiling, and then he fixed upon me a stare so martyred, so condescending, that I froze rigid. In tones of sweetest reason he told me, “Enola, legally I hold complete charge over both your mother and you. I can, if I wish, lock you in your room until you become sensible, or take whatever other measures are necessary in order to achieve that desired result... You will do as I say" (Springer 69).

Mycroft's part is clear. He's the white, rich, powerful, able-bodied man who benefits from society's structure and thus would never think to change it. He does legally have charge over both Enola and Eudoria. He can do whatever he pleases to make them "sensible"... and that right there is the horror of it. Mycroft is a law-abiding man whose antagonism stems from doing precisely what he's allowed to do in a broken world. There are certainly elements of this in the Netflix adaptation, but that antagonism becomes so exaggerated that it's nearly laughable. Enola's governess (appointed by Mycroft) slaps her across the face the moment she speaks up. Mycroft screams at her in a carriage until she's cowering against the window. He takes her and throws her into a boarding school where everything is bleak and all the women dutifully follow instructions like hypnotized dolls. Enola Holmes ensures that we've lost all of Springer's nuance, notably the criticism of otherwise decent people who fall into the trap of doing the "right" (read: expected) thing. Despite her desire for freedom, in the novel Enola quickly realizes that she is not immune to society's standards:

"I thought he was younger.” Much younger, in his curled tresses and storybook suit. Twelve! Why, the boy should be wearing a sturdy woollen jacket and knickers, an Eton collar with a tie, and a decent manly haircut—

Thoughts, I realised, all too similar to those of my brother Sherlock upon meeting me (113-14).

She is precisely like her brothers, judging a boy for not looking and acting enough like a man just as they judged her for not looking and acting enough like a lady. The difference is that Enola has chaffed enough against those expectations to realize when she's falling prey to them, but the sympathetic link to her brothers remains. In the film, however, the conflict is no longer driven by fallible people doing what they think is best. Rather, it's made clear (in no uncertain terms) that these are just objectively bad people. Only villains hit someone like that. Only villains will scream at the top of their lungs until a young girl cries. Only villains roll their eyes at women's rights (a subplot that never existed in the novel). Springer writes Mycroft as a person, Netflix writes him as a cartoon, and the result is the loss of a nuanced message about what it means to enact change in a complicated world.

Which leaves us with Sherlock. Note that in the above passage he is the one who casts harsh judgement on Enola's outfit. Originally Mycroft took an interest in making Enola "sensible" and Sherlock— in true Holmes fashion—straddles a fine line between comfort and insult:

"Mycroft,” Sherlock intervened, “the girl's head, you'll observe, is rather small in proportion to her remarkably tall body. Let her alone. There is no use confusing and upsetting her when you'll find out for yourself soon enough'" (38).

***

"Could mean that she left impulsively and in haste, or it could reflect the innate untidiness of a woman's mind,” interrupted Sherlock. “Of what use is reason when it comes to the dealings of a woman, and very likely one in her dotage?" (43).

A large part of Enola's drive stems from proving to Sherlock, the world, and even herself that a small head does not mean lack of intelligence. His insults, couched in a misguided attempt to sooth, is what makes Sherlock a complex character and his broader sexism is what makes him a flawed character, not Superman in a tweed suit. Yet in the film Mycroft becomes the villain and Sherlock is his good brother foil. Rather than needing to acknowledge that Enola has a knack for deduction by reading the excellent questions she's asked about the case—because why give your characters any development?—he already adores and has complete faith in her, laughing that he too likes to draw caricatures to think. By the tree Sherlock remanences fondly about Enola's childhood where she demonstrated appropriately quirky preferences for a genius, things like not wearing trousers and keeping a pinecone for a pet. They have a clear connection that Mycroft could never understand, one based both in deduction and, it seems, being a halfway decent human being. We are told that Enola has Sherlock's wits, but poor Mycroft lucked out, despite the fact that up until this point the film has done nothing to demonstrate this supposed intelligence. (To say nothing of how canonically Mycroft's intellect rivals his brother's.) Enola falls to her knees and begs for Sherlock's help, saying that "For [Mycroft] I'm a nuisance, to you—" implying that they have a deep bond despite not having seen one another since Enola was a toddler. Indeed, at one point Enola challenges Lestrade to a Sherlock quiz filled with information presumably not found in the newspaper clippings she's saved of him, which begs the question of how she knows her brother so well when she hasn't seen him in a decade and he, in turn, walked right by her with no recognition. Truthfully, Lestrade should know Sherlock better. Through all this the sibling bond is used as a heavy-handed insistence that Enola is Sherlock's protégé, him leaving her with the advice that "Those kinds of mysteries are always the best to unpick” and straight up asking at one point if she’s solved the case. The plot has Enola gearing up to outwit her genius brother, which did not happen in the novel and is precisely why I loved it. Enola isn't out to be a master of deduction in her teens, she's a finder of lost people who uses a similar, but ultimately unique set of skills. She does things Sherlock can't because she is isn't Sherlock. They're not in competition, they're peers, yet the film fails to understand that, using Sherlock's good brother bonding to emphasize Enola's place as his protégé turned superior. He exists, peppered throughout the film, so that she can surpass him in the end.

You know what happens in the novel? Sherlock walks away from her, dismissive, and that's that.

That's also Sherlock Holmes. I won't bore you with complaints about Cavill being too handsome and Claflin being too thin for their respective parts, but I will draw the line at complete character assassination. Part of Sherlock's charm is that he's far more compassionate than he first appears, but that doesn't mean he would, at the drop of a telegram, become a doting older brother to a sister of all things. Despite the absurdity of the Doyle Estate's lawsuit against Netflix for making Sherlock an emotional man who respects women... they're right that this isn't their character. Oh, Sherlock is emotive, but it's in the form of excited exclamations over clues, or the occasional warm word towards Watson—someone he has known and lived with for many years. Sherlock respects women, though it's through those societal expectations. He'll offer them a seat, an ear, a handkerchief if they need one, and always the promise of help, but he then dismisses them with, "The fairer sex is your department, Watson." Springer successfully wrote Sherlock Holmes with a little sister, a man who will bark out a laugh at her caricature but still leave her to Mycroft's whims because he has his own life to tend to. This is a man who insists that the mind of a woman is inscrutable and thus must grapple with his shock at Enola's ability to cover the "salient points" of the case (58). Cavill's Sherlock is no Sherlock at all and though there's nothing wrong with updating a character for a modern audience (see: Elementary), I do question why Netflix strayed so far from Springer's work. The novel is, after all, their blueprint. She already managed the difficult task of writing an in-character Sherlock Holmes who remains approachable to both a modern audience and Enola herself, yet for some reason Netflix tossed that work aside.

2. Enola is "Special,” Not At All Like Other Girls

Allow me to paint you a picture. Enola Holmes is an empathetic, fourteen-year-old girl who, while bright, does not possess an intelligence worthy of note. No one is gasping as she deduces seemingly impossible things from the age of four, or admiring her knowledge of some obscure, appropriately impressive topic. Rather, Enola is a fairly normal girl with an abnormal upbringing, characterized by her patience and willingness to work. Deciphering the many hiding places where her mother stashed cash takes her weeks, requiring that Enola work through the night in secrecy while maintaining appearances during the day. She manages to hatch a plan of escape that demonstrates the thought she's put into it without testing the reader's suspension of disbelief. More than that, she uses the feminine tools at her disposal to give herself an edge: hiding her face behind a widow's veil and storing luggage in the bustle of her dress. Upon achieving freedom, her understanding of another lonely boy leads her to try and help him, resulting in a dangerous kidnapping wherein Enola acts as most fourteen-year-olds would, scared out of her mind with a few moments of bravery born of pure survival instinct. She and Tewksbury escape together, as friends, before Enola sets out on becoming the first scientific perditorian, a finder of lost people.

Sadly, this new Enola shares little resemblance with her novel counterpart. What Netflix seemingly fails to understand is that giving a character flaws makes them relatable and that someone who looks more like us is someone we can connect with. This Enola, simply put, is extraordinary. She's read all the books in the library, knows science, tennis, painting, archery, and a deadly form of Jujitsu (more on that below). In the novel Enola bemoans that she was never particularly good at cyphers and now must improve if she has any hope of reading what her mother left her. In the film she simply knows the answers, near instantaneously. Enola masters her travels, her disguises, and her deductions, all with barely a hitch. Though Enola doesn't have impressive detective skills yet, her memory is apparently photographic, allowing her to look back on a single glance into a room, years ago, and untangle precisely what her mother was planning. It's a BBC Sherlock-esque form of 'deduction' wherein there's no real thought involved, just an innate ability to recall a newspaper across the room with perfect clarity. The one thing Enola can't do well is ride a bike which, considering that in the novel she quite enjoys the activity, feels like a tacked on "flaw" that the film never has to have her grapple with.

More than simply expanding upon her skillset—because let’s be real, it’s not like Sherlock himself doesn’t have an impressive list of accomplishments. Even if Enola’s feelings of inadequacy are part of the point Springer was working to make—the film changes the core of her personality. I cannot stress enough that Enola is a sheltered fourteen-year-old who is devastated by the disappearance of her mother and terrified by the new world she's entered. That fear, uncertainty, and the numerous mistakes that come out of it is what allowed me to connect with Enola and go, "Yeah. I can see myself in her." Meanwhile, this new Enola is overwhelmingly confident, to the point where I felt like I was watching a child's fantasy of a strong woman rather than one who actually demonstrates strength by overcoming challenges. For example, contrast her meeting with Sherlock and Mycroft on the train platform with what we got in the film:

"And to my annoyance, I found myself trembling as I hopped off my bicycle. A strip of lace from my pantalets, confounded flimsy things, caught on the chain, tore loose, and dangled over my left boot.

Trying to tuck it up, I dropped my shawl.

This would not do. Taking a deep breath, leaving my shawl on my bicycle and my bicycle leaning against the station wall, I straightened and approached the two Londoners, not quite succeeding in holding my head high" (31-32).

***

"Well, if they did not desire the pleasure of my conversation, it was a good thing, as I stood mute and stupid... 'I don't know where she's gone,' I said, and to my own surprise—for I had not wept until that moment—I burst into tears" (34).

I'd ask where this frightened, fumbling Enola has gone, but it's clear that she never existed in the script to begin with. The film is chock-full of her being, to be frank, a badass. She gleefully beats up the bad guys in perfect form, no, "I froze, cowering, like a rabbit in a thicket" (164). This Enola always gets the last word in and never falters in her confident demeanor, no, "I wish I could say I swept with cold dignity out of the room, but the truth is, I tripped over my skirt and stumbled up the stairs" (70). Enola is the one, special girl in an entire school who can see how rigid and horrible these social expectations are, straining against them while all her lesser peers roll their eyes. That's how she's characterized: as "special," right from the get-go, and that eliminates any growth she might have experienced over the course of the film. More than that, it feels like a slap in the face to Springer's otherwise likeable, well-rounded character.

3. A Focus on Hollywood Action and Those Strong Female Characters

It never fails to amaze me how often Sherlock Holmes adaptations fail to remember that he is, at his core, an intellectual. Sure, there's the occasional story where Sherlock puts his boxing or singlestick skills to good use, and he did survive his encounter with Moriarty thanks to his own martial arts, but these moments are rarities across the canon. Pick up any Sherlock Holmes story, open to a random page, and you will find him sitting fireside to mule over a case, donning a disguise to observe the suspects, or combing through his many papers to find that one, necessary scrap of information. Sherlock Holmes is about deduction, a series of observations and conclusions based on logic. He's not an action hero. Nor is Enola, yet Netflix seems to be under the impression that no audience can survive a two hour film without something exploding.

I'd like to present a concise list of things that happened in the film that were, in my opinion, unnecessary:

Enola and Tewksbury throw themselves out of a moving train to miraculously land unharmed on the grass below.

Enola uses the science knowledge her mother gave her to ignite a whole room of gunpowder and explosives, resulting in a spectacle that somehow doesn't kill her pursuer.

Enola engages in a long shootout with her attacker, Tewksbury takes a shot straight to the chest, but survives because of a breastplate he only had a few seconds to put on and hide beneath his shirt. Then Enola succeeds in killing Burn Gorman's slimy character.

Enola beats up her attackers many, many times.

This right here is the worst change to her character. Enola is, plainly put, a "strong woman." Literally. She was trained from a young age to kick ass and now that's precisely what she'll do. Gone is the unprepared but brave girl who heads out onto the dangerous London streets in the hope of helping her mother and a young boy. What does this Enola have to fear? There's only one martial arts move she hasn't mastered yet and, don't worry, she gets it by the end of the film. Enola suffers from the Hollywood belief that strong women are defined solely as physically capable women and though there's nothing wrong with that on the surface, the archetype has become so prevalent that any deviation is seen as too weak—too princess-y—to be considered feminist. If you're not kicking ass and taking names then you can only be passive, right? Stuck in a tower somewhere and awaiting your prince. But what about me? I have no ability to flip someone over my shoulder and throw them into a wall. What about pacifists? What about the disabled? By continually claiming that this is what a "strong" woman looks like you eliminate a huge number of women from this pool. The women we are meant to uphold in this film—Enola, her Mother, and her Mother's friend from the teahouse—are all fighters of the physical variety, whereas the bad women like Mrs. Harris and her pupils are too cultured for self-defense. They're too feminine to be feminist. But feminism isn't about your ability to throw a punch. Enola's success now derives from being the most talented and the most violent in the room, rather than the most determined, smart, and empathetic. She threatens people and lunges at them, reminding others that she's perfectly capable of tying up a guy is she so chooses because "I know Jujitsu." Enola possesses a power that is just as fantastical as kissing a frog into a prince. In sixteen short years she has achieved what no real life woman ever will: the ability to go wherever she pleases and do whatever she wants without the threat of violence. Because Enola is the violence. While her attacker is attempting to drown her with somewhat horrific realism, Enola takes the time to wink at the audience before rearing back and bloodying his nose. After all, why would you think she was in any danger? Masters of Jujitsu with an uncanny ability to dodge bullets don't have anything to fear... unlike every woman watching this film.

It's certainly some kind of wish fulfillment, a fantasy to indulge in, but I personally preferred the original Enola who never had any Hollywood skills at her disposal yet still managed to come out on top. That's a character I can see myself in and want to see myself in given that the concept of non-violent strength is continually pushed to the wayside. Not to mention... that's a Sherlock Holmes story. Coming out on top through intellect and bravery alone is the entire point of the genre, so why Netflix felt the need to turn Enola into an action hero is beyond me.

4. Aging Up the Protagonists (and Giving Them an Eye-Rolling Romance)

The choice to age up our heroes is, arguably, the worst decision here. In the original novel Enola has just turned fourteen and Tewksbury is a child, twelve-years-old, though he looks even younger. It's a story for a younger audience staring appropriately young heroes, with the protagonists' status as children crucial to one of the overarching themes of the story: what does it really mean to strike out on your own and when are you ready for it? Adding two years to Enola's age is something I'm perfectly fine with. After all, the difference between fourteen and sixteen isn't that great and Brown herself is sixteen until February of 2021, so why not aim for realism and make her character the same? That's all reasonable and this is, indeed, an adaptation. No need to adhere to every detail of the text. What puzzles me though is why in the world they would take a terrified, sassy, compassionate twelve-year-old and turn him into a bumbling seventeen-year-old instead?

Ah yes. The romance.

In the same way that I fail to understand the assumption that a film needs over-the-top action to be entertaining, I likewise fail to understand the assumption that it needs a romance—and a heterosexual one to boot. There's something incredibly discomforting in watching a film that so loudly proclaim itself as feminist, yet it takes the strong friendship between two children and turns it into an incredibly awkward, hetero True Love story. Remember when Enola loudly proclaims that she doesn't want a husband? The film didn't, because an hour later she's stroking her hand over Tewksbury's while twirling her hair. Which isn't to say that women can't fall in love, or change their minds, just that it's disheartening to see a supposedly feminist film so completely fall into one of the biggest expectations for women, even today. Forget Enola running up to men and paying them for their clothes as an expression of freedom, is anyone going to acknowledge that narratively she’s still stuck living the life the men around her want? Find yourself a husband, Enola. The heavy implication is she did, just with Jujitsu rather than embroidery. Different method, same message, and that’s incredibly frustrating when this didn’t exist in the original story. “It's about freedom!” the film insists. So why didn't you give Enola the freedom to have a platonic adventure?

It's not even a good romance. Rather painful, really. When Tewksbury, after meeting her just once before, passionately says "I don't want to leave you, Enola" because her company is apparently more important than him staying alive, I literally laughed out loud. It's ridiculous and it's ridiculously precisely because it was shoe-horned into a story that didn't need it. More than simply saddling Enola with a bland love interest though, this leads to a number of unfortunate changes in the story's plot, both unnecessary additions and disappointing exclusions. Enola no longer meets Tewksbury after they've both been kidnapped (him for ransom and her for snooping into his case), but rather watches him cut himself out of a carpetbag on the train. I hope I don't have to explain which of these scenarios is more likely and, thus, more satisfying. Meeting Tewksbury on the train means that Enola gets to have a nighttime chat with him about precisely why he ran away. Thus, when she goes to his estate she no longer needs to deduce his hiding spot based on her own desires to have a place of her own, she just needs to recall that a very big branch nearly fell on him and behold, there that branch is. (The fact that the branch is a would-be murder weapon makes its convenient placement all the more eye-rolling.) Rather than involving herself in the case out of empathy for the family, Enola loudly proclaims that she wants nothing to do with Tewksbury and only reluctantly gets involved when it's clear his life is on the line. And that right there is another issue. In the novel there is no murderous plot in an attempt to keep reform bills from passing. Tewksbury is a child who, like Enola, ran away and quickly discovers that life with an overbearing mother isn't so bad when you've experienced London's dangerous streets. That's the emotional blow: Enola has no mother to go home to anymore and must press out onto those streets whether she's ready for it or not.

Perhaps the only redeeming change is giving Tewksbury an interest in flowers instead of ships. Regardless of how overly simplistic the feminist message is, it is a nice touch to give the guy a traditionally feminine hobby while Enola sharpens her knife. The fact that Enola learned that from her mother and Tewksbury learned botany from his father feels like a nudge at a far better film than Enola Holmes managed to be. For every shining moment of insight—the constraints of gendered hobbies, a black working class woman informing Sherlock that he can never understand what it means to lack power—the film gives us twenty minutes worth of frustrating stupidity. Such as how Enola doesn't seem to conceive of escaping from boarding school until Tewksbury appears to rescue her. She then proceeds to get carried around in a basket for a few minutes before going out the window... which she could have done on her own at any point, locked doors or no. But it seems that narrative consistency isn't worth more than Enola (somehow) leaving a caricature of Mrs. Harris and Mycroft behind. The film is clearly trying to promote a "Rah, rah, go, women, go!" message, but fails to understand that having Enola find a way out of the school herself would be more emotionally fulfilling than having her send a generic 'You're mean' message after the two men in her life—Sherlock and Tewksbury—remind her that she can, in fact, take action.

Which brings me to my biggest criticism and what I would argue is the film's greatest flaw. Reviewers and fans alike are hailing Enola Holmes as a feminist masterpiece and yes, to a certain extent it is. Feminist, that is, not a masterpiece. (5) But it's a hollow feminism. A fantasy feminism. A simple, exaggerated feminism that came out of a Feminism 101 PowerPoint. To quote Sherlock, let's review the salient points:

A woman cannot be the star of her own film without having a male love interest, even if this goes against everything the original novel stood for.

A feminist woman cannot also be selfish. Instead she must have a selfless drive to change the world with bombs.

The best kind of women are those who reject femininity as much as they can. They will wear boy's clothes whenever possible and snub their nose at something as useless as embroidery. Any woman who enjoys such skills or desires to become lady-like just hasn't realized the sort of prison she's in yet.

The best women also embody other masculine traits, like being able to take down men twice their size. Passive women will titter behind their hands. Active women will kick you in the balls. If you really want to be a strong woman, learn how to throw a decent punch.

Women are, above all, superior to men.

Yes, yes, I joke about it just as much as the next woman, but seeing it played fairly straight was a bit of an uncomfortable experience, even more-so during a gender revolution where stories like this leave trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer viewers out of the ideological loop. Enola goes on and on about what a "useless boy" Tewksbury is (though of course she must still be attracted to him) and her mother's teachings are filled with lessons about not listening to men. As established, Mycroft—and Lestrade—are the simplistically evil men Enola must circumvent, whereas Sherlock exists for her to gain victory over: "How did your sister get there first?" Enola supposedly has a strength that Tewksbury lacks— he's just "foolish"—and she shouts out such cringe-worthy lines as, "You're a man when I tell you you're a man!"

I get the message, I really do. As a teenager I probably would have loved it, but now I have to ask: aren't we past the image of men-hating feminists? Granted, the film never goes quite that far, but it gets close. We’ve got one woman who is ready to start blowing things up to achieve equality and another who revels in looking down on the men in her life. That’s been the framing for years, that feminists are cruel, dangerous people and Tewksbury making heart-eyes at Enola doesn’t instantly fix the echoes of that. There's a certain amount of justification for both characterizations—we have reached points in history where peaceful protests are no longer enough and Tewksbury is indeed a fool at times—but that nuance is entirely lost among the film's overall message of "Women rule, men drool." It feels like there’s a smart film hidden somewhere between the grandmother murdering to keep the status quo and Enola’s mother bombing for change, that balance existing in Enola herself who does the most for women by protecting Tewkesbury... but Enola Holmes is too busy juggling all the different films it wants to be to really hit on that message. It certainly doesn’t have time to say anything worthwhile about the fight it’s using as a backdrop. Enola gasps that "Mycroft is right. You are dangerous" when she finds her mother's bombs, but does she ever grapple with whether she supports violence on a large scale in the name of creating a better world? Does she work through this sudden revelation that she agrees with Mycroft about something crucial? Of course not. Enola just hugs her mom, asks Sherlock not to go after her, and the film leaves it at that.

The takeaway is less one of empowerment and more, ironically, of restriction. You can fight, but only via bombs and punches. It's okay to be a woman, provided you don't like too many feminine things. You can save the day, so long as there's a man at your side poised to marry you in the future. I felt like I was watching a pre-2000s script where "equality" means embracing the idea that you're "not like other girls" so that men will finally take you seriously. Because then you don't really feel like a woman to them anymore, do you? You're a martial arts loving, trouser-wearing, loud and brilliant individual who just happens to have long hair. You’re unique and, therefore, worthy of attention, unlike all those other girls.

That's some women's experiences, but far from all, and crucially I don't think this is the woman that Springer wrote in her novel.

The Case of the Missing Marquess is a feminist book. It gives us a flawed, brave, intelligent woman who sets out to help people and achieves just that, mostly through her own strength, but also with some help from the young boy she befriends. Her brothers are privileged, misguided men who she nevertheless cares for deeply and her mother finally puts herself first, leaving Enola to go and live with the Romani people. Everyone in Springer's book feels human, the women especially. Enola gets to tremble her way through scary decisions while still remaining brave. Her mother gets to be selfish while still remaining loving. They're far more than just women blessed with extraordinary talents who will take what they want by force. Springer's women? They don't have that Hollywood glamour. They're pretty ordinary, actually, despite the surface quirks. They’re like us and thus they must make use of what tools they have in order to change their own situations as well as the world. The fact that they still succeed feels very feminist to me, far more-so than granting your character the ability to flip a man into the ground and calling it a day.

Know that I watched Enola Holmes with a friend over Netflix Party and the repeated comment from us both was, "I'd rather be watching The Great Mouse Detective." Enola Holmes is by no means a horrible film. It has beauty, comedy, and a whole lot of heart, but it could have been leagues better given its source material and the talent of its cast. It’s a film that tries to do too much without having a firm grasp of its own message and, as a result, becomes a film mostly about missed potential. Which leads me right back to where I began: The book is better. Go read the book.

Images

Enola Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Enola and her Mother Doing Archery

Enola and her Mother Fighting

Tewkesbury and Enola

#Sherlock Holmes #Enola Holmes #mymetas

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murphyhatesme · 4 years

Text

Sorting it out

Summary: The boys sort it out with a little help from their extended family (notes at the end - AO3 Link )

Steve sighs as he puts his phone back in his lap. Leaving Danny is the hardest part of this but the mission has run its course, he’s done. He needs time to shake the memories, to find the fabled peace of mind. A sense of dread tries to claw its way up from the pit of his stomach, he squashes it but it’s too late. A visual has already wormed its way into his mind, Danny, alone in his chair on Steve’s beach. The urge to get off the plane and back to Danny is strong but he manages to suppress it. He wonders what would have happened if he finally told Danny that the casual ‘I love yous’ had taken a deeper meaning for him over the last two years. This afternoon, for one glorious moment, he thought Danny was going to lean in and kiss him, but his partner turned away and left Steve staring at his back. It cemented his belief that he needed to leave the island, get over Danny, find peace and then maybe he could go back to seeing Danny as his best friend and not a love interest. Then he remembers Danny’s face and the look he gave Steve. He rubs at his eyes, fuck is he making a mistake?

“Is this seat taken?”

Steve glances up in shock, because he recognises that voice.

“Catherine ..”

“Hey sailor”

“It was you? You cracked the cypher?”

She nods her head yes.

“Lincoln got a hold of me, said you guys needed some help. So ..”

“He’s a good man”

“He must be, did you really give him the keys to Danno’s car?”

“Well, we can’t have Danny Williams driving his own car”

“Yes we can, you just won’t allow it.”

They both smile before Catherine sits down and takes his hand, squeezing it slightly.

“What are you doing Steve?”

He sighs, letting his head fall against the rest and closes his eyes.

“I just need to be on my own for a while. Find a semblance of peace”

“No, I’m not talking about that and you know it.”

Cath tugs on his arm and he rolls his head towards her, taking a deep breath before he looks at her.

“Why in god's name are you leaving the one thing behind that can give you everything you are looking for huh?”

“I .. Now listen. We don’t .. Jesus Cath, Danny doesn’t love me that way okay?”

She squints her eyes, a broad smile taking over her beautiful face.

“I meant the team, you know, your chosen family? Funny you immediately jumped to Danny.”

“I ..”

But Cath holds up her hand and shakes her head.

“No. shh. Let me talk okay?”

When he doesn’t answer she prods his shoulder.

“Fine! Were you always this bossy?”

“Yes I was, you liked that about me. And I’m pretty sure it’s why you fell for Danny.”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth but she gives him a look and he makes a zipping motion with his hand.

“Look, I know the past few years have been hard, especially the last months. I, more than most people, understand the need to get away. After Billy, I needed to find some peace but most of all quiet. A place where I could admit to myself that we” she gestures between them “became complacent. We were together because it was comfortable, easy if you will. I love you, very much, but we weren’t in love at the end. You and Danny? You fit. He loves you. Probably more than he’s willing to admit. And you love him, have loved him for a while now. I don’t understand why you haven’t said anything yet? You were never shy? And I know what you guys got up to in the barracks after the light went out.”

“Can I talk yet?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.”

“Danny and me, it’s complicated. I always thought once we’re settled, with a pension plan in place we would see what we could become. But it was never the right time, always something going on and then a few months ago he started pushing me to date. And then I realised I missed my window.”

She looks at him intently for a moment.

“So nothing happened to make him push you away? Nothing at all?”

“No?”

“So you didn’t sell the restaurant? Told him you weren’t ready?”

Steve blanches, Danny knows it was just the restaurant. Right?

“Danny knows that was just the restaurant!”

He’s aware of the slight panic in his voice as he echoes his thoughts. Cath places a warm hand on his arm and he focuses on that as he takes a deep breath.

“That was your pension. Your happily ever after. The one you pushed to have, together. And then suddenly you’re out? That must have stung and maybe it told him you weren’t ready to take the next step.”

“But he said if you’re out, I’m out. I mean this wasn’t my decision alone!”

“Of course he said that. He. Loves. You .”

“I know. We’re best friends.”

“Right, I hoped this wouldn’t be necessary but you are .. argh!”

Steve frowns as he watches her raise her arm. Within seconds two air marshals come into the cabin, stopping short at their row.

“Commander McGarrett,” the marshal, Andy Turner, steps to the side as Cath moves to the empty seat across the path “If you’d be so kind as to follow us.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Cath, he gets up but he’s not feeling kind at all.

“What did you do?”

“It’s for your own good.”

“What did you do?”

He repeats and he’s conscious of all the eyes on them.

“Missing a window is not possible if you are the one crafting it. Also if there was a right time? Then this is it.”

“Cath you can’t force this. It’s not your decision to make.”

She grins at him as she pushes past him to take the window seat.

“As I said, it’s for your own good. Oh and Steve?”

He stops but doesn’t look back.

“Don’t blame the kids okay? They just want you to be happy.”

The marshals lead him off the plane straight into a holding cell. It’s bare, one cot, pillow, sheets and toilet and sink in the corner. They leave him there. He inspects every surface of the small room, already knowing he won’t find any surveillance equipment because monitoring the cells is in violation of the privacy law. He sits down and waits.

Not even thirty minutes later the door opens and Danny comes in, leaning heavily on his cane. When Tani lingers in the doorway Steve suddenly and with clarity knows exactly what Cath meant with don’t blame the kids. He rushes forward but Tani is quicker and she closes the door with a deafening sound. He slowly turns to Danny and goes for the offence.

“Look what you did! Now we’re stuck here.”

Danny hmms, sits down on the cot and purses his lips.

“Do you honestly think I didn't know they were up to something? Steve, you’ve been gone for an hour and a half, when Cath called to tell me you were detained at the airport nobody was surprised. Charlie is a better actor than most of our team.”

Steve grins at that, remembering Charlie’s innocent face when a bag of candy appeared on the belt at the supermarket. Danny catches his eye and Steve’s heart seems to skip a beat. The dread turns into hope and somehow that’s worse.

“So why are we here Steve?”

“Because Cath is a busybody.”

Danny’s sigh is filled with disappointment and Steve’s stomach clenches.

“Fine. We’ll wait them out.”

The silence is oppressing and Steve struggles to keep quiet when suddenly Danny’s cane hits the ground, hard.

“No. You know what? You’re finally going to listen to me without deflecting or running away! You’re an asshole.”

Steve opens his mouth but Danny is suddenly in his space holding a finger up.

“Shut it. You are an asshole. You were perfectly fine with walking away and not looking back. I get it. I do. But fuck Steve you left me months ago. You twisted your way into my heart, my home, my life and eventually my retirement. And I let you. That is on me. But just when I, we, landed on the same page you dropped me. The restaurant was too much. You couldn’t do it. It wasn’t you. And again I got it. I let you walk out but you kept coming back and I couldn’t handle it. So I pushed you away, onto the dating scene, hopefully giving me a fighting chance to get over you and still I .. Then you told me you needed time. Away from me, from everything you call home and for the last time I told you fine. I thought this is it, I was going to tell you but you shut me down. I just, I desperately wanted to be the reason you’d stay. But this morning made me realise I’m once again not enough. And that’s fine, this is the story of my life. I .. with all my negative thinking, with every imagined scenario you leaving me behind never crossed my mind. That’s how sure I.. Look, I’m sorry. This isn’t fair but damn it! I’m pissed.”

Steve blinks, the hope burst into a million tiny butterflies.

“Okay, sit down before you keel over.”

He helps a grumbling Danny back to the cot.

“I really just meant the restaurant Danno. I could never truly walk away from you. You’re in my heart. I don’t want to give you a fighting chance. You’ve always been enough for me.”

Danny narrows his eyes at him but Steve ignores it and kneels down between Danny’s legs. He tugs him close and buries his face into Danny’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent. Danny tightens his arms around him, mumbling half hearted threats into his shoulder and Steve feels a tension, he didn’t know he was holding, leaving his body. He sags into the embrace, closing his eyes and just breathes for a moment. Eventually he draws back and looks Danny in the eye, he leans in slightly, giving Danny ample time to pull away. But when Danny raises his brow, Steve grins and plants a soft kiss on the corner of Danny’s mouth. Danny huffs and yanks him into a proper kiss, groaning when Steve deepens the kiss almost immediately. He gets lost in the kiss, loving the feeling of Danny’s fingers carding through his hair. They kiss for a long time, mapping each other’s mouths, necking like teenagers on a first date. He slips his hands down Danny’s back, but pulls away when he feels Danny twinge. Right, bruising, from the kidnapping. Fuck.

“Ah sorry.”

“You didn’t beat me up Steve.”

“No but it was ..”

Danny kisses the words out of his mouth and for a moment he forgets everything around him. Until Danny breaks the kiss, sweeping a thumb over Steve’s sensitive bottom lip.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“But Danny, you are the most important person in my life right now and everybody knows it. I can’t do this without you. I’d rather be miserable on my own knowing you are safe than be responsible for your .. So you see now why it’s better for me to leave?”

He looks at Danny willing him to understand only to be met with an eye roll and a cuff to the back of his head.

“I know you like to think you are superman but you do not control the actions of other people Steven. I’d rather have you here, being able to save me than thousands of miles away and not being able to do a damn thing. Afghanistan and Korea taught me that. So if you are going to stay, then make damn sure that this is what you want because if you leave again then we are done. No take backs, no do overs.”

Steve looks away, he’s going to have to stop fooling himself seeing as how he isn’t fooling anyone else. Cath was right, now is the time.

“I hear Jersey is nice this time of year.”

Danny’s laugh is music for his soul and he leans in to taste it.

******

Smiling, Tani quietly closes the peephole in the door. She checks her watch and shoots off a text to Cath ‘mission accomplished’ seconds later she gets a ‘I love it when a plan comes together’ back.

Fin

I seem to be on a roll, part of it is that people keep giving me inspiring prompts and another part of it is the fandom collectively deciding we needed a slightly altered ending. This tiny fix it story is based on a tumblr post from mcdannohmygod, @mireilleleerves tagged me in it and I really liked the idea. I did give it a twist, though. Hope you enjoyed it!

#mcdanno #mcdanno fic #my writing #lizlybear #I hope you guys enjoy it #posted on AO3

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lokisasylum · 4 years

Text

Map of the Soul: 7 Album - First listen review

[I won’t bother reviewing the ones from PERSONA that were added, since I already did a post for Persona when it came out. Only the new songs]

#1. Interlude: SHADOW

WOW.... just when you thought the first version hit hard/differently. The extended version comes in to choke-slam you against the wall.

#2. Black Swan

Our new Royal to take a spot in the throne of power along with Blood Sweat & Tears, Spring Day, Fake Love, and Outro: TEAR.

Do we even need to add more additional to what we’ve been saying since its release? As an artist, the lyrics still pull at my heart strings the same way they did the first time I heard it. Especially the verse that says:

‘If this can no longer resonate No longer make my heart vibrate Then like this may be how I die my first death But what if that moment’s right now Right now .’

This verse can be applied to ANY time we loose faith in ourselves or have to give up on a dream/passion and how that separation slowly kills us inside.

#3. Filter (Jimin’s solo)

....Not gonna lie, this song gives me TRUST ISSUES just because its Jimin LOL!

‘Cause I remember seeing & hearing Serendipity for the first time and it was such a lovely melody and the lyrics were so soothing like a lullaby expressing Love in its purest form.

But then you see the choreo and it all went Magic Mike SO FAST X”D.

Because on one hand the lyrics (at first glance) can be interpreted as Jimin seeing himself through Army’s eyes. How WE see his “Duality” - cute/adorable/lovely one minute and then sensual/tantalizing the next.

That boring expression of yours, boring feet Please look at me now Put down your phone, don’t even think about turning your head Let me know your type You can choose and use me yeah

Oh I cover your eyes with my hand Oh go towards the secret I’ll take you to a brand new world Yeah open your closed eyes now go!

Mix the colors of the palette, pick your filter Which me do you want? The one who’s going to change your world, I’m your filter Cover it over your heart

(Ok) How is it, do you feel it a bit? Is it still not enough? (Yes) Girl you have your chance I can be your Genie How ’bout Aladdin? I’ll become anything [for you] You can choose and use me yeah

That first part really does sound like how he would accommodating his “Persona” to make us happy. And every-time something he does isn’t enough he changes again.

Of course this doesn’t have to mean what he’s doing in the present, “Filter” could be just like “Lie” which spoke of his past-self and how he used to blame himself for the group’s failures. So maybe he’s expressing how’s he’s had to change himself throughout the years to please the fans as long as they understood and accepted who HE REALLY IS beyond the Idol persona.

Or y’know, this is just a very sexy number he wanted to try and shy away from his comfort zone XD. And I’ll bet all my money that the choreo’s gonna be SEXY AF and WE AIN’T READY FOR IT.

P.S. that moment when the music stops and he goes: “OKAY.” WITH HIS SEXY DEEP AF VOICE, JESUS!!!!

#4. My Time (Jungkook’s solo)

Kook’s solo not only reminded me heavily of “Begin”, but it also sounds like what “Decalcomania” should’ve been if he had released the full version.

He’s seeing himself not as an Idol, but not quite as Jeon Jeongguk either.

Like he’s just standing in the middle watching his two selves, his two Personas and trying to find which one is his. Which reality he is living in--or should be living in. Which part of his life belongs to his “normal/non Idol self” and which one is part of the mask/Idol self he puts up for the fans.

And yes, you know, yes. you know Oh I can’t call ya, I can’t touch ya Oh I can’t Let me know Can I someday find my time? Finna find my time Someday finna find my time

This verse sounds like he’s still experiencing that loneliness that all artists experience during stardom very often (Note on how in Shadow Yoongi is the one who says: “Nobody ever told me how lonely it is up here.” ). Like how he sometimes wishes he could tell someone, but can’t?

#5. Louder than bombs

All rise for our National Anthem!

If Shadow hit hard while choke slamming you. Then this song is the overkill.

The vocals are insane, and the lyrics mixed with the music tell one story through two points of view. Actor in the spotlight and Actor as a Spectator.

This is BTS telling us how people view them and having to keep their emotions in check in the face of criticism from general audience and even antis, versus how they truly feel inside and behind close doors.

Break, unwind, let it out, breathe out, stand up, pray for better days and keep moving.

#6. ON

THIS👏SONG👏FUCKING👏SLAPS👏PERIOD👏!

The energy, the rap line, the vocal line, the CRAZY FOOTWORK AND INSANE CHOREO.

THE JIKOOK NIP-SLIPS

THE BODY ROLLS

THE TATTOOS---

THE SUBTLE “GO FUCK YOURSELF!”

I LOVED IT and it gave me such a strong throwback to NOT TODAY.

#7. UGH!

This is CYPHER_pt3 Killer, CYPHER pt. 4, TEAR & DDAENG’s lovechild.

This song is the Rap Line going like: “THESE MOTHERFUCKERS WANTED TO TRY ME (AGAIN) AND IMMA GIVE THESE BITCHES A CYPHER.

BITCHES LOVE CYPHERS.”

#8. 00.00 (Zero o’ Clock)

When I saw that we were having another Vocal Line unit song the first thing I kept praying for was: “PLEASE don’t let this be another Truth Untold...”

Because I absolutely HATED the hypocrisy that came out of this fandom ESPECIALLY the toxic Solo Stans who did nothing but hype up their faves while shitting on other members (I will never forgive those who went so far as to defame and even act as if Jimin wasn’t part of the Vocal Line, ya’ll are still trash for that).

But I gotta say Zero o’ Clock was totally something I can see them enjoying while performing. Despite, of course, the song talking about hardships and finding a new way to be happy throughout the tough times even when you don’t feel like smiling.

I liked it, the vibes are a bit like “2,3″ and “Magic Shop”. A song for HEALING.

#9. Friends (VMIN sub-unit)

VMIN

SOULMATES FOREVER.

I also LOVED that they added the voice messages Jimin & Tae used to leave each other since their recording schedules were different and they didn’t see each other. That was such a nice touch. T_T

That little “Hello my Alien” .... that made me emotional. I kept imagining those mischievous kids running around playing pranks on the other members, like that one time they made Hobi fall off the chair and got chased by him XD ...*SOBS*

#10. Inner Child (Taehyung’s solo)

All the time I kept listening to this song I kept imagining Taehyung sitting in a park next to his Younger Self, like the way a father sits with their youngest son and talks to them about life. What to expect, what will change and how to go about these changes.

Really heartfelt song.

#11. Moon (Jin’s solo)

Just like Tae’s song, “Moon” makes me thinking of all those moments when Jin kept doing his “Heart Event” where he kept pulling out hearts out of nowhere. Each time more clever than the first, just to show ARMY how much he loves us.

I wonder all of a sudden, do you really know yourself? Do you know how pretty you are? I will orbit you I will stay by your side I will become your light All for you

This part in particular makes me think of Jin up on stage staring at a stadium full of bright little stars that are in reality Army Bombs.

#12. Respect (Namgi Unit-song)

Fave verse from this song is:

“Re-spect”, it’s literally looking again and again Looking again and again and you’ll see faults But despite of that you still want to look

And the fact that you have two members of different ages (Hyung/Donsaeng), in a sort of conversation that goes back and forth between what the real meaning of “RESPECT” is and how people throw the word around, even those who speak ill of others behind their backs.

And were they talking in Satoori in the end??? That was nice XD

#13. We are Bulletproof: the Eternal

Throw stones at me We don’t fear anymore We are we are together bulletproof (Yeah we have you have you) Even if winter comes again Even if I’m blocked off, I will still walk We are we are forever bulletproof (Yeah we got to heaven)

#14. Outro: EGO (Jhope’s Solo)

EGO is Jhope and Jhope is EGO in all it’s glory.

Like “Just Dance” i like the contrast how in EGO he’s doing a back-track to his younger self, how he used to dance to prove something TO OTHERS, where as now that he’s older he just accepts that everything that happened is just part of life. So he’s a happier now doing what he loves BECAUSE he loves to dance.

#15. ON (feat. Sia)

....WHY?

Like... I don’t wanna be THAT BITCH and drag nobody, but like... was this really necessary?

I mean atleast Nicki Minage and Halsey had their own parts that they owned like the bad bitches that they are.

But like...

Yeah, Imma stop right here.

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hopeworldfan · 5 years

Text

RO5EY (2)

summary: you were an idol but didn’t look the part.

pairing: hoseok/reader

word count: 1k+

genre: fluff, angst, idolverse

warning: bullying, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide

Blooms meant the absolute world to you. They were the ones who made it possible for you to have a career that you loved, they supported you and encouraged you through thick and thin, so you tried to give back to them as much as you possibly could. In doing so, you were the most active of your group on Vlive and social media (since your company allowed you all to have your own personal accounts.) It was the least you could do for the people who gave so much to you.

“Hey, guys!” You greeted cheerfully, a wide smile on your face as you sat in your room. “How’s everyone doing today?”

You relaxed back in your chair, scanning the chat log as messages flooded in as people joined the stream.

“Better now that you see my face? You guys are so sweet!” You gushed, framing your face and smiling at the camera. It was hard to not let on just how tired you were after a long day of rehearsing, but you hadn’t streamed in a while and felt guilty. Sleep could wait.

“When are we coming to America? Hopefully soon! I want to see you guys so bad!” You answered with a pout. Your eyes continued to scan the outpour of messages, schooling your expression as the meaner comments started to trickle in.

Fat pig

How disgusting

Why are you in a group with such cute girls, you only bring them down

You should just die

It wasn’t anything new, unfortunately. Ever since the five of you debuted, you always received the most hate, it was commonplace.

“Oh! You guys saw our interview with BTS? They’re all so nice.” You paused to take a sip of your water. “You liked my performance of Cypher? Aww thank you! I was so nervous, it was embarrassing!”

You made a fool of yourself

The performance was terrible

You’re not talented

Kill yourself

“J-Hope is your bias too? We’re bias twins!” You laughed, keeping a smile on your face. The cruel words hurt, of course they did, but you couldn’t let it get to you. If you let it get to you then that means they won, so you soldiered on, chatting with your real fans.

“Advice for unconventional girls who want to be idols?” You paused. That question was a frequent one that was fielded your way. “You have to have thick skin. I’m very vocal about the hate I receive, and it never really gets easier, but sweet fans like you guys give me the strength to power through! As long as I can make one person smile with what I do, nothing is going to stop me!”

You chatted with your fans for another half hour before signing off and slumping down into your chair. What felt like every bone in your body cracked when you stretched your limbs and sighed. It was late, but you had wanted to stream at a time convenient for your American fans and since practice didn’t end until late, it seemed like the perfect opportunity. When in Rome and all that.

Sinking into your plush mattress felt like heaven and you couldn’t help the sigh that slipped out. Tomorrow was going to be another long day of practicing for the next award show performance. RO5EY strived for nothing less than perfection, it’s what was necessary to stay on top, and it’s what the fans deserved. With fans in mind, you forced yourself to sit back up and grab your phone, working on taking a cute selfie to post on Instagram.

Since your company’s sole focus was defying idol norms, it wasn’t a surprise when they let you all have your own personal social media accounts. Though they were monitored by a social media manager, you mostly had free reign to post whatever you wanted, within reason. They didn’t want the reputation of the group getting tarnished by outlandish posts.

After a few minutes of changing angles and poses, one of the pictures was decent enough post and you did so quickly, adding a caption thanking the Blooms who tuned into the Vlive and telling them to be on the lookout for the next one. It was only a matter of seconds before the comments started.

No one cares about your vlive.

You’re the worst member.

Ugly.

Hana had suggested turning commenting off, so did the social media manager. That would have been the smart thing to do, because even if the accounts got reported and suspended, more only rose to take their place. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it though, the whole reason for your presence on social media was to interact with your fans. There was something so amazing about being able to bring joy to someone just by replying to their comment, or hell, even just liking it. So, you dealt with the hate, tried to let it roll off your back, focusing on the positives and trying your best to ignore the negatives.

Just as you were sinking back in your bed, your phone buzzed, and you laughed when you saw it was a text from your leader.

Why are you posting so late? We have a long day tomorrow; you need your rest.

Also, that’s a cute picture.

Practice was intense, but it always was. Youra was a perfectionist and she led practices since she was assigned the role of lead dancer. She was a harsh teacher, never letting the smallest of mistakes slip by, but none of you ever took it personally, you wanted to be perfect.

“And feet together on eight,” She instructed and the four of you immediately followed suit. “Next the dance line has a feature so you two can go have a quick break while we go over this.”

The dance line consisted of you, Youra, and Hana. Out of the three, you were by far the least experienced dancer which meant you always had to work ten times harder to make the work look effortless. Hana was classically trained before she became a trainee, and Youra’s parents owned a hip-hop studio so she’d been dancing since she could walk.

Byeol would have been the ideal third member of the dance line since she was also classically trained, but since Youra and Hana were both vocalists, management wanted a either you or Seung and your poor rap partner was even more hopeless at dancing than you were.

Sweat dripped down your face as you worked to keep up with Youra’s movements. Your muscles burned with every move, ever stretch, but you refused to give up. Dancing had become easier over the years, but it still took you longer to master routines.

“Alright, let’s take a break then take it from the top.” You immediately slumped to the ground the second the words slipped out Youra’s mouth. The cool, wooden floors were a welcome relief against your hot skin.

“Yeah unnie! That’s my rap partner!” Seung cheered, running up and collapsing on top of your pitiful form. You groaned and immediately pushed her off, flopping onto your back.

“Put me out of my misery.” You pleaded desperately but your black-haired friend just laughed.

“You don’t get off the hook that easy unnie.”

“You’re doing really well unnie.” Byeol complimented, walking up to the two of you.

“Thanks, ByeBye.” You said, your voice muffled from your arms covering your voice. Your maknae was always there to shower you in compliments when necessary, she was the cutest person on the entire planet and that wasn’t an exaggeration.

“Hey girls!” A cheery voice interrupted, and you immediately jumped up.

“Jaewon-unnie!”

“Hello Jaewon-unnie!”

“Good morning Jaewon-unnie.”

“There’s our favorite manager!”

“Hiya Jaewon-unnie.” You all greeted. Jaewon was the one who started it all. Despite only being ten years older than you, she was the CEO and one of the founders of the small company your group belonged to. It was uncommon, having a female CEO, but it was also uncommon having a chubby girl as an idol, and that was the whole point.

Jaewon was highly critical of the toxic parts of the K-Pop industry. Her aunt had been an idol back in the day and she saw first-hand the effects the industry had on young men and women. She did her senior thesis on the changes the industry should make. With a few friends and help from her very wealthy family, she founded the company. You all admired her so much, knowing how hard she’s worked to make the company, and your group successful.

“I have some exciting news,” She started with a smile and the five of you crowded her immediately, eager for whatever news she had. “I’ve been in contact with BigHit-”

Seung immediately squealed and you slapped your hand over her mouth, despite the fact that you easily could have had the same reaction. You all knew BigHit, more importantly, you all knew a certain group that was under their management.

“As I was saying,” Jaewon laughed. “I’ve been in contact with BigHit. The ratings for the show you did with BTS were better than either of us thought they would be. Apparently, there was a surge of international viewers. There are talks about a collaboration being thrown around.”

All five of your squealed that time, even Hana, though hers was more subdued.

“Nothing is set in stone yet.” Your manager quickly interjected. “But we’re thinking about doing a series of some sort since there are too many people for one song. If it all goes according to plan, we’re looking at RM and Hana since you’re both leaders, Byeol and Jungkook since you’re both the maknae, Youra with Jimin and V, Seung with Suga and Jin, and (y/n) with J-Hope.”

“Oh my god shut up unnie! Ahh!” Seung shrieked, bouncing up and down in sheer excitement. “I get to work with Suga? Is this a dream? This has to be a dream! Pinch me (y/n)-unnie!”

You automatically pinched your excited companion and she squealed again. “It’s not a dream!”

“Jimin is a beautiful dancer, this is exciting.” Youra grinned.

“With Jungkook?” Byeol’s face was a bright red.

“When will we know more?” Hana questioned, always getting straight to business.

“We’re having a meeting in three days to iron out the details.”

You were frozen solid. A collaboration with J-Hope? Just you and him? You reached down and pinched yourself, wincing at the pain. Okay, not a dream.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok imagine #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope imagine #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok x you #jung hoseok imagine #jung hoseok #sky writes

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nandalorian · 5 years

Text

So. I wasn’t going to post about Roswell, but now I am, so buckle up because this is going to be a long one.

A lot of people on Tumblr, Twitter, and the wider internet have, over the last few days, very intelligently posed criticisms of Roswell’s representation of POCs and queer characters in the context of Malex. While I have to be upfront about the fact that the problematic writing has made me apprehensive of seeing the show through to its next season, I’ve been pretty quiet on that front as I gather my thoughts and figure out what I need to say. As a white woman, I am upset and dismayed by the token and tone-deaf representation, but I feel like that’s not mine to speak to when there are a lot of people of colour in this fandom who can and should take this opportunity to explain, criticize, and educate the rest of us on how the show has failed and how it must do better. In that regard the most worthwhile contribution I can make is to listen and amplify those voices and their thoughts, feelings, experiences, and insights about the negative and at best lazy representation of people of colour on the show.

But as a bisexual woman and a professional writer and editor, I am in a position to criticize the queer representation from a political and social standpoint, but also a creative one. I am going to break this post up into two parts because there’s a lot I want to address about two separate issues, and I think the waters will get muddied if I try to combine it into one post. So let’s talk about Malex first, which is the subject about which, oddly enough, I feel the most calm. Depressed af, but mostly calm.

More under the cut.

A lot of people have already written about Malex or Tweeted Carina and the production team far more eloquently than I can manage, but the thing is, while I do have issues I’ll get into in a sec, I... actually think they have done a good job of writing Michael as a bisexual man and Alex as a gay one. That isn’t a popular opinion at the moment, but hear me out, because I have a lot more to say on the subject of bisexuality that doesn’t concern Michael Guerin. The show’s struggle isn’t entirely that their politics are bad. I do think the intentions are mostly good--mostly--but what I want to speak to is the breakdown between intentions and how those intentions translate to the screen through the medium of writing, direction, and the actors’ performances.

I don’t want to dismiss or disregard anyone who feels differently since that view is also totally valid and a lot of people have raised very fine points to that end. This is just my interpretation, so take it with a grain of salt and feel free to disregard or not. But my take is we can’t boil down the show’s issues to saying oh it’s biphobic or homophobic where Michael and Alex are concerned. I don’t think it is, not inherently.

The show’s struggle is that the writing is often so sloppy, rushed, and disjointed that it’s impossible to tell whether they don’t fully understand what positive queer representation is and what it isn’t, or if they just don’t know how to do it justice on TV. Perhaps it’s a combination of both, and right now I’m not writing off either possibility.

But I’m inclined to think it’s the latter. To be clear: the Malex/Maria triangle is shitty writing because love triangles frequently are, and they’re really, really difficult, if not impossible, to get right. The reason I think so many of us are up in arms about it is because the show rushed and stumbled its way through a 30-second supercut of Alex and Michael’s relationship from the word go, just enough to get us hooked before abandoning it for something else.

We’re pissed because it’s like they got us addicted to black tar heroin and then took away our fix just as the night sweats and shaky hands started to kick in, and at this point my life since episode 1x11 has been like a bad Trainspotting withdrawal montage. I don’t think they have intentionally baited us, although that is what it feels like. It’s taken a lot of angst and going back and forth on my part to arrive at this conclusion, and I will say I still waffle about it some days. But bad writing is bad because it pulls unintentionally negative reactions from people due to being misunderstood, or from creating all these wild implications the writers didn’t necessarily intend or realize were present in the final product.

The fact that Carina has to take to Twitter to explain each episode to viewers shows the quality of the writing or lack thereof. If it were stronger, she wouldn’t have to do that, but the show suffers from chronic exposition, incredibly bad pacing, and an overreliance on plot devices to advance the story rather than gradual and necessary character development. Sorry if that’s harsh, but the editor part of my brain sometimes wants to weep during episodes of Roswell. Oftentimes a bunch of shit will happen in an episode that doesn’t even progress the story, leaving us or the characters at exactly the same place they started off.

In short, everything happens too much. The characters feel like they have no agency because they are always reacting to one thing after another every episode, not even a second for them to breathe and be and let us see who they really are when the world isn’t on fire. And that’s all the characters, not just Alex and Michael, although arguably we have a bit more insight into the primary characters like the Pod Squad and Liz. But really, everything suffers as a result. The characters seem thin or underdeveloped and the sense of urgency, tension, and risk disappears even from theoretically high-stakes scenes like a live shooter at a hospital because we don’t get to see who the characters are in their normal lives. We don’t fully know what’s important to them before the next explosion happens.

Adversity is a helpful writing tool because it can show us who characters are under a certain set of high-pressure circumstances, but boredom and normalcy is just as important for character development. You can’t tear down what we don’t know exists. Star Wars: A New Hope wouldn’t have been half as effective if we hadn’t seen Luke Skywalker in his day-to-day life before that simple life was upended and he got the call to adventure. The first stage of the hero’s journey is necessarily the boring part because we can’t cross from the known to the unknown world without seeing what the known world is.

We never really… get that with Roswell. Not even for a second. So of course we feel cheated of bisexual or gay representation in the show because we never actually get to see Michael and Alex in any kind of sustained relationship, healthy or not. It’s just conflict conflict conflict with a bit of sex and longing gazes thrown in, followed by more conflict and then the relationship ending in favour for a new one. All hat, no cattle. (Literally.)

With Michael we get to see some of his routine and him being himself with his family, etc., and a lot of that has to do with the incredible performances Michael Vlamis delivers week after week, although even then, that suffers. Rather than start us off slow and building relationships from the ground up, the season begins in conflict, so that it has the effect of it seeming like the town of Roswell has been vacant for 10 years and everyone moved back in the same day and started catching up on each other’s lives after a decade apart. You don’t get the sense that anyone really talks to each other, even though most of them have been living in the same place their whole lives. Every single relationship, from Isobel and Michael, Max and Michael, Max and Isobel, even Maria and Michael, could have been strengthened if they’d taken more time to lay that groundwork ahead of the conflict. Especially Maria and Michael! Imagine how much better this season would have worked if they’d had an existing relationship, friendship, or flirtation before Alex got back. By this point we’d be nodding and probably going, “Okay, I get it. I might not like it, but I get it.”

Alex by comparison is a total cypher where his background and his day-to-day life is concerned. We know almost nothing about him outside of his history of abuse, his tragic backstory with Michael, and his role in helping to uncover the mystery about the fourth alien. Yes, we’ve gotten to see that he is blunt and fiercely loyal to his friends, and he has serious issues with needing to be in control, which are all valid from a character development standpoint. I have come to desperately crave any and all scenes with him and Kyle because that seems to be when we get the most significant moments of character insight like that wonderful “I’m talking about a conversation, not a war” moment. But how much else do we know or understand about him that is canon, not fans’ headcanon?

Furthermore, the lack of context and representation around Alex’s disability as a veteran, amputee, and potentially as a PTSD-sufferer is really dangerous and feels like tokenism. The way they’ve written the existence of his injury feels inconsistent, and while showing his residual limb during a love scene was significant, they ruined any goodwill we might have developed toward them for that by simply never engaging with his disability again. Same with the fact that he is of Indigenous heritage, which we know FROM A TWEET but which the show has never actually engaged with explicitly, in a move taken straight from the J.K. Rowling Book of Bogus Representation. We don’t quite have enough information to know yet whether this is tokenism or bad writing, in Alex’s case, although I sincerely hope it isn’t the former. Based on everything I’ve seen so far, though, my hopes aren’t high, because it kind of feels like the writers want credit for representation when they haven’t actually done the legwork (yet?).

Maria suffers a similar lack of character development, and what started off promising when we got great scenes with her, Liz, and Alex and then met Mimi has quickly deteriorated to her being nothing more than Michael’s new love interest. As a woman of colour, that is lazy and shitty on multiple levels, and I just about hit the ceiling in 1x11 when they not only showed a black woman being drugged and her body used against her will--could you be more tone-deaf to those implications?!--but had two white women (Jenna and Isobel) accusing Maria of being a murderer to another WOC (Liz). Maria’s very thin character development in the latter half of the season has had the dual effect of making us feel like we’ve been cheated out of a relationship we have gotten attached to but haven’t been given time to fully appreciate or understand (Malex) and thrust into a new one that feels weak, arbitrary, and rote by comparison.

I actually don’t object to the idea of Michael and Maria as a couple. They have great chemistry. But I do object to the lack of development they’ve given us on either front, either Michael/Maria or doing serious justice to Malex as a ship. To think all of that could’ve been solved if the writers had slowed down the show’s pacing and actually given themselves and the characters time to breathe and get to know each other, and us them.

What I feel a lot of straight/white/cis/able-bodied writers don’t seem to understand is that representation takes care. It’s great to say you’re going to write a diverse show and have lots of representation, but it’s for naught if you don’t also understand that you can’t write diversity in the same way you’d write a character coming from a place of privilege, be it racial, socioeconomic, gender, sexuality, ability, etc. Part of that privilege is having a lot of generally positive understanding and assumptions about those characters already built in, especially from your viewers who share that privilege. Writing diversity takes WORK, a lot of attention to detail, sensitivity, and most of all the ability to listen. It takes a lot of consultation with people who have those experiences and know what they’re talking about, because the experiences, assumptions, and biases of nondiverse writers just can’t fully capture what minorities know and live every day of their lives. To do otherwise is how we arrive at whitesplaining, mansplaining, straightsplaining, etc. If you’re a white/straight/cis/able-bodied person and think you’ve done enough to positively represent your diverse characters, that probably means you need to do more. It’s not for you to judge how much is “enough.” That’s for your consultants and, most importantly, your viewers. And if those people are telling you you’ve missed the mark, the next best thing you can do is stfu and listen to them and try to learn how to do better, not get defensive or start patting yourself on the back for everything else you’ve done.

I think those principles can be applied to all the representation on the show, including that of POCs, the differently abled, and the queer characters. I think the writers have done enough with Michael and Alex as queer characters on their own, but they’ve missed the mark on doing enough with them together. Because--and I know this will come as a shock--part of writing queer characters is also giving us well fleshed-out queer relationships. They started off down that road, but at some point the road abruptly ended and left us as viewers feeling stranded in the middle of a desert. That’s uneven writing that results in a feeling of uneven representation, and as far as viewers are concerned, it amounts to the same thing.

Carina’s attempts to explain why they’ve done nothing wrong to viewers via Twitter and social media is sheer intentional fallacy. And while we’re at it, I’ve spent a lot of this season wanting to take Twitter away from her and throw a copy of “The Death of the Author” at her head instead. It’s not enough, Carina. What you intended isn’t enough if it’s not there on the page or visible to us on the show. As a writer she should understand that, but instead she is getting defensive of her abilities as a screenwriter and showrunner when fans pipe up to say whatever she intended isn’t translating properly. We aren’t seeing that representation, which means the writers need to do more than what they think is “enough.”

Add into that a rushed, arbitrary love triangle with an underdeveloped black female character and an underdeveloped gay POC with a disability, especially when those two characters are also best friends whose relationship is severely threatened as a result, and there’s no wonder why viewers are up in arms about this. I don’t think the love triangle makes Michael seem like an indecisive or promiscuous bisexual--and anyway, since when is being promiscuous a bad thing. It just makes him and Maria seem careless of Alex’s feelings and like Alex is the victim, which they could have avoided by taking their time with the characters/relationships, especially the vulnerable ones, or by avoiding such a lazy and unnecessarily dramatic trope in the first place, or at the very least establishing the characters and their relationships enough that our current situation felt more organic.

So really this kind of leaves us at an impasse, I think, as fans. I think people ought to keep speaking up to Carina if they think that will help, but I think it’s also important for us to be able to separate bad politics from bad writing, or at least be able to engage with them as separate things that occasionally (or frequently) overlap with disastrous consequences. I’m sure there are a lot of people who will disagree with this utterly, and that’s fine. Could be I’m totally wrong, and I am aware that I’m probably giving the writers too much credit about what they may or may not have intended.

But with regards to Alex and Michael, maybe it will help to understand what’s happening from this standpoint and tailor our approach accordingly. We really can’t take it upon ourselves to make demands upon the show in terms of what story they want to tell, but we can certainly complain when they aren’t telling that story effectively or when it alienates viewers, especially on points of diversity and representation.

But I don’t know. It could be the only way to make ourselves heard, to tell the writers when they are and aren’t doing “enough,” is to vote with our time, attention, and viewership, whether that means continuing to watch the show or stopping altogether. And that’s kind of a bummer, because there was a lot of potential. But if the quality of the storytelling is unable to make heard the voices and experiences it ought to, especially with such a receptive, enthusiastic audience, then maybe it’s time we start looking for other shows that do a better job, or better yet, continue to keep telling and creating our own.

Those are just my thoughts. Please feel free to discuss with me in the comments or via DM, because I’m still talking through this stuff and welcome the conversation and any alternate or opposing viewpoints.

I’ll be back in a bit to share a second post with my far less forgiving thoughts about Roswell’s representation of queer female sexuality, because that one’s a doozy and the gloves come off. Sorry not sorry in advance.

#roswell new mexico #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #meta #biphobia #representation

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v-thinks-on · 4 years

Text

The Valley of Fear

Part 5 of The Man Who Sold the World

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In the weeks that followed the debacle of the second Scandal in Bohemia, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson came to a somewhat uncomfortable truce. They spoke amicably about anything other than the case at hand or any other that Watson may have been investigating, the topic of which was avoided at all costs. The doctor was left to pursue his practice alone with no input whatsoever from Holmes, who instead dedicated himself to housekeeping and music, which left him restless and frequently irritable.

It was early in the afternoon, nearly a month later. Watson was sifting through that day’s mail while Holmes watched from where he lay, strewn across his own chair in a fit of boredom that threatened for the worse. Amidst all the bills and advertisements, Watson came upon an old fashioned envelope. It was nothing special, at least it wouldn’t have been in 1887, but now it could not have been mistaken for an ordinary letter. Even the feel and weight of the paper were different.

Watson tore the envelope open to reveal a page of thick well worn paper bearing a familiar cypher. Holmes craned over to get a glimpse of the seemingly random string of numbers - and one letter - intercut with three words; “Douglas” followed by a repetition of “Birlstone.”

“What do you make of it?” Holmes asked, unable and unwilling to hold his peace any longer.

Watson put down the letter and gave him a reproachful look.

“Look at me, Watson, I’m wasting away. My mind begs to be used!”

Watson let out a sigh. He could feel this was not going to go his way. Still, he tried, “We can’t risk letting him get away again. Another man is dead, and the longer it takes to catch the culprit, the more victims will follow.”

“I can help,” Holmes insisted. “You know I am equal to it. For me to stay here and stagnate would be unfair to the both of us - in Moscow or London it’s the same. This is no life for me, my dear Watson, please understand.”

Watson heard the ultimatum as though it had been spoken aloud; if he did not allow Holmes to work with him, he would leave and that would be that. It stung badly to hear it aloud, even though Holmes had said it with a little more delicacy.

Watson had no choice, he could not bear to see him go, and Holmes knew it. There was no one else in the world who knew who he really was, who shared in his past. That alone may have settled it, but this was not just anyone; this was Sherlock Holmes, the dearest friend he had ever known, returned from the dead. No, he could not let Holmes vanish again.

Still, he reluctantly handed the letter over to the waiting detective.

Holmes glanced at it for a moment before rattling off, “Antique paper” - he sniffed it - “ink too, but still fresh. He was careful not to leave any prints, clearly a forgery - look at those horrible Greek e’s. It’s a standard book cypher, based on an old almanac, if I recall.” He turned back to the doctor and offered, his tone just shy of condescending, “So, what course of action do you suggest?”

After a moment’s consideration, Watson said, “We ought to solve the cypher to be sure - I think an old edition of Whitaker's almanac should do the trick, but we’ll have to go to the library for that. In the meantime, did you see anything in the morning paper?”

“Very reasonable,” Holmes declared, his energy returned with a vengeance. “I haven’t had a chance to look at the paper yet, but that can be remedied quickly enough.”

Watson stood as Holmes reached for the morning’s news. “Mrs. Houghton may know more than the press, especially if the case has already made it to London.”

“Don’t count our intrepid reporters out just yet. And there are advantages to working independently from the official force.”

“There are advantages to working with them too,” Watson said before picking up the phone, cutting one conversation short with another.

“Dr. Holmes, I was just meaning to call you!” Mrs. Houghton exclaimed on the other end of the line. “There’s been another one, out in Sussex this time.”

“I’ve just received a warning about it. I take it Mr. John Douglas was found dead in Birlstone Manor?”

“I don’t think the place is called Birlstone, but you’re right about the victim. I got a call this morning from the country Inspector. Apparently Douglas was shot around eleven last night. According to Inspector Mason, it looks like someone planted evidence of an intruder, but the current theory is that it was someone inside the house. The whole place is set up like the others were, all Victorian, which is why I was called in and I thought you might want to come along.”

“There’s not a minute to waste.”

“I can drive you, I’ll be over in a few.”

They both hung up and Watson turned back to Holmes, who was still flipping through the paper.

Holmes put the paper aside as Watson returned to his chair. “It seems Douglas’s murder was not quite in time to make the morning press. Tomorrow, I’m certain there will be a full feature on the matter.”

“I’m sure,” Watson said, his smile a little smug with his victory.

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Holmes and Watson exchanged a glance, but neither was expecting anyone - it was impossible for Mrs. Houghton to have arrived so quickly. Finally, Holmes gestured for Watson to go ahead.

So, the doctor shouted, “Come in.”

The door swung open and banged against the wall.

“A letter for Dr. Holmes!” a small boy proclaimed from the doorway.

He couldn’t have been older than twelve, dressed like a page boy not dissimilar from the one Holmes once had. But his oily hair and rough skin suggested he was a homeless child who had been paid to play the role.

“I am he,” the doctor said and held out his hand for the letter.

The boy handed it to him and the doctor gave him a tip.

“There's more where that came from if you can tell me who put you up to this.”

The boy laughed and shook his head.

“How much did he offer you? I'll double it,” the doctor insisted.

“He said he'd double your offer if I didn’t say anything.”

“And how will he know what you did or didn't say here?”

The boy thought about it for a moment. “He said his name’s Fred Porlock.”

“And where did you meet him?”

“Camberwell, in front of the post office.”

“Could you describe him for me? And then you can go on your way.”

“He was wearing a big yellow jacket. He’s tall and old, with gray hair and a silly moustache that he kept twitching.”

Dr. Holmes nodded in thought. The moustache must have been fake, his hair could have easily been dyed, and it wasn’t so difficult for an experienced actor to play a man taller or shorter than himself. There wasn’t much he could glean from the description, but at least the boy had seen his face, if he could find him again.

“Did he say anything else?” Dr. Holmes attempted.

The boy shook his head. “Just to bring you the letter as fast as I could. He seemed pretty nervous about it, kept glancing over his shoulder like someone was following him. Are you spies?”

“No,” Dr. Holmes said, though he couldn’t help but smile a little at the suggestion. He handed the boy a sizable payment. “Where could I find you if I had more questions?”

“I’m usually in Camberwell,” the boy said, already running out the door.

If he hurried, Dr. Holmes could probably follow the boy on his next errand, perhaps catch a glimpse of the so-called Mr. Porlock for himself, but the chances of success were low compared to the risk of delaying their journey to the countryside.

“I doubt it would come to anything,” Holmes said, startling Watson out of his reverie. “We would do better to search for answers in Sussex than London.”

“How on Earth do you do that?” Watson exclaimed, caught entirely off guard.

“I’m relieved to find I can still surprise you on occasion.”

“Yes, I fear I’ve become entirely unaccustomed to your tricks.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t mastered it. It’s rather superficial.”

“I suppose I occasionally give Mrs. Houghton a bit of a shock, but I never intend to.”

“You’re much too modest, my dear Watson.”

“Am I?” Watson asked pointedly.

Holmes let out a barking laugh. “A distinct touch, Watson, a distinct touch.”

Watson smiled with his victory as he tore open the envelope the boy had delivered. Inside was a short note from one Mr. Fred Porlock announcing his resignation as turncoat. It had been hastily written, but holding the note and the cypher side by side Watson could see that they had the same distinctive features, forged and genuine.

“It’s a shame,” Holmes remarked, greatly subdued. “Porlock was the first man to turn informant on Professor Moriarty despite the grave risk. He didn’t have the courage for it in the end, but I shall always remember him for having taken the first step. And here he has been reduced to yet another agent playing his role.”

“Perhaps it’s not all in vain,” Watson suggested. “There may be some record of his presence at the Camberwell post office by which we can trace him, and that boy could serve as a witness - if we can find him again.”

Holmes just shook his head. “I fear our Mr. Porlock is long gone.”

As loathe as Watson was to admit it, Holmes was probably right.

They both sat ruminating in silence for a little longer until Mrs. Houghton arrived en route to Sussex.

“This may be our chance,” Mrs. Houghton declared as she waited in the doorway for Dr. Holmes to gather his things. “We’re pretty certain it must have been someone in the house - it doesn’t look like anyone escaped - and they’re all clearly in on it. Really, I don’t know what they were thinking, setting it up like this.”

“I’m afraid they very well know what they’re doing. I doubt the man behind these crimes is among the suspects, but perhaps he has made a mistake that will lead us to him. After all, no chain is stronger than its weakest link, we just need to apply the necessary pressure. Shall we?” The doctor gestured toward the door.

“Mr. Holmes, will you be joining us?” Mrs. Houghton asked with a glance at the doctor.

“I would love to,” Holmes answered with exaggerated politesse, “but I fear the decision is our dear doctor’s to make.”

The doctor gave a reluctant nod and they all made their way out onto the street.

It was nearing evening by the time the three detectives arrived at the old manor that served as the stage for the latest crime. They wound up a long driveway lined in old beech trees and parked in front of a large vegetable patch that encircled the house in place of an outer moat. Beyond that was the inner moat, still full of muddy water, surrounding the grand old manor house. As Mrs. Houghton had explained during the drive, the drawbridge that lay open across the moat was the only way into or out of the house, and it was raised at night.

A stout middle-aged man in plain clothes greeted them as they stepped out of the car. “Inspector Houghton,” he called out, “There you are! Inspector Gregson said you had gone into the city to find a specialist.” He gave both of the amateurs an appraising glance with a measure of disapproval. “We still haven’t found anyone tromping around in muddy trousers. At least one of them is lying, and the whole lot of them are pretty suspicious if you ask me.”

Mrs. Houghton nodded along as he spoke. Then she waved the amateurs forward - “Inspector Mason, this is Dr. Jonathan Holmes, and his friend, Sherlock Holmes. Dr. Holmes has been working with me on the case from the start and should be able to help us get to the bottom of it.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” the doctor said with a tip of his hat.

Holmes, in turn, stepped forward to greet the inspector with an outstretched hand, which the Inspector hesitantly shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I don’t suppose you’re related to the late Inspector White Mason? I am quite familiar with his remarkable work in the Birlstone Manor case, but I didn’t know a penchant for detective work ran in the family.”

“My father was an officer and his father before him,” Inspector Mason explained with equal parts surprise and pride. “It’s good to hear that at least some word of my family’s work has gotten around.”

“The case your ancestor pursued was a very noteworthy one, not the least so in its parallels to the matter at hand. I believe you are quite right, and we intend to find out what’s going on.”

The doctor stepped in - “Shall we go in and see for ourselves?”

Inspector Mason startled and stared at the doctor as though he did not know what to make of him.

Holmes laughed. “Very well, we should not keep our dear doctor waiting.”

Watson was, to his credit, not disarmed by Holmes's smile as he passed, leaving the doctor and Mrs. Houghton to follow after. They exchanged a glance, but the doctor found little sympathy; Mrs. Houghton was on the verge of laughter herself.

Inspector Mason led them over the drawbridge and into the manor. The entire house was an antique, from the architecture, to the walls, to the furniture. It had not even been wired with electricity as the Baker Street flat had been. The various trappings lying about that should have given some insight into daily life in the manor looked to be as old as the house and could have once belonged to a country gentleman, but there was little evidence they had been used in the last century.

At the door they were greeted by a butler who, at first glance, looked as prim and proper as any. However, upon closer inspection, his clothes were not quite the right fit and he was more muscular than any butler the doctor had ever met. And then there was the tell-tale sign of a concealed weapon at his hip.

“What can I do for you” - the butler hesitated and what remained of his air of prim composure disintegrated into discomfort - “gentlemen?”

Holmes deferred to Watson with a glance, and so the doctor answered, “The scene itself first, if you will. And then we will need somewhere to interview everyone.”

The butler assented and led them a short way into the study. By the time they arrived, he and Holmes were in the midst of an avid conversation about football, of all things. They lingered at the door while the doctor followed Mrs. Houghton inside. Inspector Mason went off to attend to his own business.

The room had been emptied of its grizzly inhabitant, though some of the blood remained to emphasize the tape outline that marked where it had been. The familiar clues were there; the muddy footprints by the window, the bloody track on the sill, and the lone dumbbell sitting in the corner. The sawed off shotgun had no doubt been taken to ballistics already, assuming it had been present at all.

“Forensics finished up here a while ago,” Mrs. Houghton explained. “They've taken everything back to the lab to be analyzed, we'll get the report in a few days. If you want, I can show you all of their photographs of how everything was when they arrived. They removed the corpse, obviously, and a shotgun which we're taking to be the murder weapon unless they tell us otherwise.”

Dr. Holmes nodded. “Do those footprints match any shoes in the house?”

“The one on the sill was clearly made by one of Cecil Barker’s slippers, it was obviously faked. Someone dipped the slipper in blood and pressed it there, but we're still trying to figure out who. We haven't found the boots that made the muddy prints on the floor.”

“This is truly a marvelous piece of work,” Holmes remarked, having joined them at last. His eyes shone with enthusiasm. “It's a shame your people have mucked about the scene so thoroughly, you haven't left us much to work with.”

He examined the scene, his eyes flitting this way and that, performing calculations the doctor could not even begin to fathom, as familiar as he was with the detective's methods.

“We haven't been ‘mucking about,’” Mrs. Houghton replied, with only a touch of humor to soften her otherwise sharp tone. “The forensic scientists have done their job and now we're doing ours.”

“Things have changed a lot,” the doctor attempted to explain, “The police have picked up a lot of your old methods and they’ve got the resources to more than do them justice. There's even new technology-”

Holmes cut him off with a wave, “No matter, there's enough left to draw a few conclusions.” He rounded on the doctor with an impish smile, “You have your methods, what do you observe?”

The doctor frowned. Though Holmes’s prompting questions had helped him begin to learn to imitate Holmes's deduction, now the detective's tone grated. Would he always have to prove himself - and then not even be Holmes's equal.

Still, the doctor had his pride. He examined the ground until he had gleaned enough to say, “These tracks are clear thanks to the rain a few days ago. I believe they include some of the dark mud we passed by the station in town, perhaps he arrived by train. They go straight from the door to those distinctive marks behind the curtains. Then, after some time, he stepped out and there was some sort of scuffle” - he followed the footprints around the room as he narrated - “And they end here by the body.”

“Excellent!” Holmes exclaimed, and for an instant Watson glowed with pride. “Though, of course, we both knew all that before we so much as entered the room. What do you see?”

The doctor’s smile quickly went flat. Two could play at this game - “What do you see?”

“Aside from the drops of blood on the floor made by the slipper as it was being carried to the window to make that print, a candle that is only barely burned - suggesting that there was only a brief interview between the victim and the perpetrator - and of course the missing dumbbell?” Holmes answered with a smirk and turned to Mrs. Houghton - “I take it your forensic scientists removed the card bearing the initials 'V. V.’ and the number, ‘341?’”

She nearly jumped in surprise, but quickly regained her bearings. “Yes, of course, it's in for handwriting and materials analysis. I think they're also sweeping it for fingerprints.”

“It must have been laid down after the crime was committed - see how the blood is smeared here” - Holmes pointed at a roughly rectangular spot on the ground that fit the description. “Shall I go on, or do you want another crack at it?” he challenged the doctor.

The doctor considered the facts and his surroundings for a moment before he responded, “That the candle was only briefly lit reveals little. It could have been lit any time today or even in the past week, especially if someone in the house was involved in setting up the scene. People nowadays use torches or even cell phones to the same effect. The lamp wasn’t even used, suggesting that for anything longer than a few minutes he must have had a different source of light that’s no longer in the room.” He turned to Mrs. Houghton and asked, “Was there anything here earlier?”

She shook her head.

Holmes stepped over to the candle and examined it. “It’s new and can’t have been lit more than a few days ago,” he pronounced.

Dr. Holmes frowned. “That still doesn't mean-”

He was interrupted by a pair of sharp knocks at the door. Without waiting for an answer, the door swung open and banged against the wall to make way for a rather excited young man who must have been none other than Mr. Cecil Barker, the friend of the Douglas’s who happened to be staying with them at the time of their misfortune. He was breathing hard as though he had just returned from a long dash and his pants legs were splashed with mud that could have easily come from the road leading up to the house. He glanced between the detectives gathered in the room.

“Just in time,” Holmes remarked.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mr. Barker said, paying Holmes no heed. “I have news!”

Mrs. Houghton stepped forward. “What is it?”

“We- they’ve found a bicycle, his bicycle! He left it behind, not far from the house!”

“We may as well have a look then, shall we?” Holmes declared as though the matter was decided.

The doctor, however, turned to Mrs. Houghton, “Would it be possible for you or Inspector Mason to look into the bicycle, perhaps determine its origin? I would rather get a start on interviewing the witnesses, if it is all the same.” He shot a pointed glance at Holmes.

Mrs. Houghton followed his gaze. “You’re sure you’ll be alright?”

“There is no cause for concern,” Holmes answered. “We’re quite accustomed to working together.”

“At least, we once were,” the doctor could not help but add.

Watson regretted it as soon as the words left his lips and for an instant he saw a look of deep hurt cross Holmes's face, but it was gone as soon as it had come, replaced by a smile he may have only fancied was a little forced.

“Don’t worry,” Holmes insisted in his easy way, “we’ll manage.”

“If you're sure…” Mrs. Houghton said and allowed Mr. Barker to lead her out of the room.

And so, Holmes and Watson were left alone. Watson was about to apologize, but Holmes spoke first.

“What now?” he asked, watching Watson with steely gray eyes and a sharp, critical air.

Watson hesitated, suddenly uncertain, “Well, I was thinking of interviewing the witnesses first…”

“Yes, you said as much. Who first? You seemed to have a plan.”

Watson glared at him, but he didn't really have much more of an answer. The doctor had just planned on hearing the witnesses’ stories and going from there. Was it not Holmes who had always cautioned against theorizing too much before the facts of the case were known? Watson elected not to dignify Holmes with a response and instead led the way out of the study and called for the butler.

The butler promptly arrived and greeted Holmes with a smile.

He seemed ready to resume their conversation about football when the doctor interrupted in his closest imitation of Holmes’s exaggerated politeness, though it came out a little sharper than the original, “Pardon me.”

The butler turned on him with a somewhat uncomfortable, “Sir?” that was a tad more aggressive than was proper.

“We’re finished in the study,” the doctor explained, “Do you have somewhere prepared for us to interview the witnesses?”

“Will the dining room be sufficient?” the butler answered stiffly.

The doctor nodded and answered with a smile, “It’ll do quite nicely, thank you.”

The butler exchanged a glance with Holmes, who merely shrugged in an intimation of innocence, before leading them to the stately dining room that would serve as their base of operations for the next phase of the investigation. The room was rather sparse aside from the requisite period appropriate decorations. The table bore a few small scratches and stains that indicated a few meals had been eaten there recently, but not many. Mostly, it seemed to be a set piece like the rest of the house.

The butler made to leave with a sharp nod to the doctor and an easy wave to Holmes, but the doctor motioned to detain him.

“While you are here, we may as well interview you first.”

With another glance at Holmes, the butler nodded and took a seat across from them at the table.

“For starters, I don't believe I ever got your name,” the doctor began.

“You can call me Ames.”

The doctor frowned - that was a point against the butler. “Your full name, please.”

Holmes cut him off with a dismissive wave before the butler could refuse to answer and asked all too casually, “What was Mr. Douglas like as an employer?”

The doctor shot Holmes a glare, but accepted the line of questioning. “It was Mr. Douglas who hired you?”

The butler nodded. “I met with him personally.”

“And what terms were those?” the doctor pressed.

“That’s between me and my employer.”

Holmes nodded in agreement. “Of course. All we need is to know is what you observed on the night in question and then you’re free to go.”

“Now wait a minute, Holmes!” the doctor exclaimed. “That may be all you need to know, but I have a few other questions I’d like to get to.”

“Really? And what essential questions did you have in mind?”

The doctor took a deep breath and tried to forget his insufferable companion.

At last, he turned to the witness and asked as cordially and professionally as he could, “If you don’t mind, I would like to begin with your own history, starting with your name please.”

Holmes made a noise of impatience, but did not interrupt. He had leaned back in his chair to watch the proceedings with the air of a critic observing a piece by an artist for whom he had very low esteem.

The butler considered for a moment, but seemed to take pity on the beleaguered doctor, “My name is Phillip Cole. John suggested I take on the name Ames while I worked here.”

“Do you know why?” the doctor asked with a glance at Holmes.

The detective continued to judge his performance in silence.

Mr. Cole shrugged. “Maybe he thought it fit the theme of the place better.”

They would come back to the question of Mr. Douglas, instead the doctor continued on in order - “Mr. Cole, where are you from?”

“London. I’ve lived in the city for most of my life,” Mr. Cole said.

“I wouldn’t live anywhere else,” Holmes put in with a wistful smile.

Watson tried to catch Holmes’s eye, but he was staring off into space with a distinct air of melodrama. Knowing him - a former spy no less - it was probably just an act, though Watson could not fathom to what ends.

The doctor forced himself back to the matter at hand. “Where were you employed before coming out here?”

“I was a bouncer at a bar in London.”

“How did you meet Mr. Douglas?”

“He came by the bar a few times, asked me a lot of questions, though he could have just asked for a resume” - Holmes chuckled - “eventually he offered me this job.”

“And what does your job entail?”

Mr. Cole shrugged. “Mostly delegating things to the maids and the rest of the staff. Mr. Douglas tells me what to do and I pass it along.”

“You don't have any prior experience as a butler,” the doctor remarked.

“None whatsoever.”

“Do you know why Mr. Douglas hired you for the job?” the doctor asked as delicately as he could.

“I guess he just wanted the extra pair of hands.”

“You said he specifically sought you out.”

“Maybe I looked the part.”

“I see…” the doctor said, torn between hiding his disbelief and pushing for a real answer.

Holmes seemed to have no such qualms and gave the witness a skeptical look.

“Well, he did seem nervous, the past few days especially, like he knew what was coming, but I'm no bodyguard,” Mr. Cole insisted.

The doctor had gleaned enough about Mr. Cole for the time being, so he turned to his late employer. “What was Mr. Douglas like?”

“You mean aside from all this?” Mr. Cole gestured at their surroundings.

The doctor smiled. “Yes, how would you describe him?”

“He seemed pretty normal otherwise, always stopped to chat with me when he had the time. Not afraid to speak his mind either. He got into a fight at the bar one time, didn't do too poorly either. He wasn't one to back away from a fight.”

That seemed to match the original rather closely, but that could have been the man himself or the butler’s invention.

“Did you know anything of his past?” the doctor asked.

Mr. Cole shook his head. “I didn't ask and he didn't say.”

“What about the other members of the household? Mr. Barker and Mrs. Douglas?”

Mr. Cole chuckled darkly. “If they weren't having an affair, well, I can't fathom what else they’ve been up to meeting in secret in the dead of night. John seemed to know it too, or at least suspect. He and Cecil were best friends until Ivy entered the room. Your little tiff earlier had nothing on the fights John and Cecil have and I for one can’t say I blame the man. Cecil practically lives here, no clue why John lets him.”

“How was the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Douglas?”

“Seemed normal enough, I suppose. She is a lot younger than him, closer to Cecil’s age. She seemed to care about him in her way, always worried about him when he was out.”

“What happened on the night of Mr. Douglas’s death?”

“Nothing unusual, I don't think…” Mr. Cole trailed off in consideration. “They did have a woman over for dinner.”

“Did you get her name, by any chance?”

“Mary, I think.”

Watson tensed. It could not be the same, she would not go under the same name, this was the wrong case. And yet, Watson had also heard her posing as Miss Irene Adler in disguise.

“Did you get her last name?” He asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

“It started with a 'W,’ I think, Weston, no, Watson, that's what it was!”

Mary Watson.

Dr. John Watson blanched.

He remembered his dear, beloved wife, wasting away while he - a doctor, for goodness’s sake! - could only stand by and watch. Unlike Holmes, he had seen her die, the coffin he buried had not been empty. This- this was a mockery of her memory, the only thing of her he had left.

His fists clenched.

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Cole asked from a great distance away. “Do you know her?”

Watson forced himself back to the present and shook his head in an attempt at a coherent answer.

“Could you describe her to me?” he asked, his voice still a little choked.

“Sure,” Mr. Cole answered sounding anything but. “She was well dressed and all - not bad looking. She was small with short brown hair…” he trailed off as he searched his memory. “Very sure of herself. She was nice enough, but she almost acted like she owned the place.”

Watson nodded. That was her. She could have easily cut her hair and dyed it or worn a wig. She had used that name on purpose - it could not have been anyone else. He did not doubt that she had kept in character as she had when the doctor met her. It was unlikely that she had let anything slip. But still, he had to try.

“How does she know Mr. and Mrs. Douglas?” the doctor asked.

Mr. Cole shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”

“You must have heard something,” the doctor insisted.

Mr. Cole hesitated, but obliged, “I didn't overhear much, I wasn't eavesdropping. They seemed to be friends, if a little distant, maybe a bit awkward or something, but I didn't see anything.”

“Did you overhear any of their conversation?”

Mr. Cole glanced at Holmes before answering, “I don't think so… just small talk. If you don't mind my asking, what does this have to do with the murder? She left long before John - well - died. I saw her out myself.”

“An excellent question,” Holmes said and turned to the doctor with a pointed look.

The doctor glared at him. “It has everything to do with the case!”

“Do you really expect to gather anything from that line of questioning?” Holmes asked, but some of the edge in his voice was gone.

Still, the doctor bristled, even as he tried to focus on the witness. “If you don't know anything more about-” he did not want to honor her with the name she had falsely claimed, “her, we may as well continue on to the crime itself. How did you spend the remainder of the evening?”

Holmes was mercifully silent as Mr. Cole answered, “Well, first John asked me to raise the drawbridge. It was down later than usual because of their little dinner party and he seemed a bit nervous. After that, I went to put away the dishes,” he said with a chuckle.

The doctor gave him a questioning look, and he explained, “When John told me to get out the silver for dinner, I thought he was joking. But no, there really was silver. It was in a pantry all the way on the far side of the house. When I went to take it out, it looked like it had never been used, it was badly in need of dusting. But they cleaned it up in the kitchen and used it for dinner.”

“What happened then?” the doctor pushed things back on track.

“I was putting away the silver when I heard someone frantically pulling at the bell - the house is full of bells and pulls so that John or anyone else can call me from wherever they are. I ran to the front of the house where I met Mrs. Allen - she’s the housekeeper. We found Cecil and Ivy arguing at the door to the study. At first I thought they were having a lover’s spat, but then Ivy shouted to us that John was dead. She said she had called the police and that there was nothing to be done, but I insisted on seeing for myself.” He shook his head like a man who now knew the error of his ways. “What I saw, well, I'm sure you've seen the pictures. I'm not ashamed to say it will haunt my nightmares for years to come.”

The doctor nodded. He remembered how the presumed Mr. Douglas had been found, he saw the body. The sight of a man with his face blown in had lingered in his nightmares even long after he knew the victim had earned his fate.

“Did anything more happen before the police arrived?” the doctor asked.

Mr. Cole shook his head. “It wasn't long, it's a short drive to town from here, though it doesn't seem it.”

“I believe that is all,” the doctor said, “Thank you very much for your cooperation.”

“You're welcome, good luck to the both of you,” Mr. Cole said and stood to take his leave.

“Please ask Mrs. Douglas to join us.”

Mr. Cole nodded and left them alone once more.

Once his footsteps had faded out of earshot, Holmes asked, “You mean to say you couldn't tell he was a bouncer? You must have seen how he stood at the door, blocking it as he invited us inside, the scrapes from fights with unruly patrons, and of course the 'concealed’ weapon.”

“I had my theories,” the doctor said.

“But only one fit all the facts.”

“I don't know,” the doctor exclaimed. “There are many other explanations I could think of, and many more I'm certain I couldn't. So much of this case hinges on who the suspects really are, I wanted to hear it from him.”

“You think our criminal mastermind would let something slip in an official interview?”

“One of his employees might. And no one can keep a story perfectly straight. If you ask enough questions they’re sure to make some sort of contradiction.”

“As is an honest witness. You won’t get anything directly tying the culprit to their crime this way, just loose suspicions.”

“Perhaps that’s all you see, but somehow I’ve managed by it,” the doctor retorted. “What method do you suggest?”

“Perhaps something a little more subtle, that’s all,” Holmes said with an enigmatic shrug.

“I’m a detective, not a spy!”

Holmes's gaze turned sharp and Watson readied himself for a retort, but suddenly the detective let out a harsh barking laugh.

“A distinct touch, Dr. Holmes,” he said with a mirthless smile.

The doctor frowned, but did not feel nearly as bad as he knew he should have. Instead of apologizing, he turned to face the door and wait for the next witness to arrive.

She did not take long to announce herself with a steady knock at the door.

Holmes was silent, so the doctor said, “Come in!”

The door swung open to make way for a middle aged woman whose dress and worn hands declared her to be the housekeeper.

“Good afternoon,” Holmes greeted her, his easy congeniality returned as though it had never gone. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to answer a few questions for us.”

“Not at all. Mrs. Douglas sent me down ahead of her and said she’ll be ready soon,” the housekeeper explained.

“Let's get to it then,” the doctor said, “Do have a seat.”

She sat down and the questioning began. Holmes said little, only interrupting every so often to make some conversational comment that threatened to draw the witness away from the inquiry altogether. But they did not last long and on the whole he was a silent observer, even going so far as to feign boredom with an occasional yawn.

As far as the doctor could tell, Mrs. Amy Allen, as she identified herself, was just as she seemed to be. She told them that she was an experienced housekeeper from London who had been hired by Mr. Douglas to do a somewhat unusual, but well paying and otherwise reasonable job. Dr. Holmes believed her, though a background check would confirm or deny the sentiment.

She was reluctant to say too much about her employers beyond that they were generally polite and agreeable. When pressed, she acknowledged that there were not infrequent disputes between Mr. Douglas and Mr. Barker, but did not dare speculate about their cause.

Her testimony about the evening of the crime corroborated Mr. Cole’s account. She had met her employers’ dinner guest and identified her under the same alias. After dinner, Mrs. Douglas had gone upstairs and suggested Mrs. Allen turn in as well. She had heard a door slam, but no gunshot. Like Mr. Cole, she had been summoned by the ringing of the bell and had found Mrs. Douglas and Mr. Barker arguing in front of the study. She had also entered the study briefly and found the same grisly scene.

“After that I helped Mrs. Douglas upstairs. She was so shocked she could barely cry. I offered to keep her company, but she said she would rather be alone, so I returned downstairs to wait for the police to arrive,” Mrs. Allen concluded.

Her story matched the original sequence of events well, but she was, by all appearances, innocent. At the very least, the doctor doubted there was much more to be gained by questioning her more now. He reflexively glanced at Holmes, but the detective appeared lost to the world, his eyes were half shut, out of boredom or in thought the doctor did not know.

So he relied on his own judgement and said to Mrs. Allen with a smile, “Thank you very much for answering all of our questions, you're free to go.”

Holmes seemed to startle into awareness, but it was a little too forceful for the doctor to believe it.

“Yes, do have a nice afternoon,” he said as Mrs. Allen stood to leave. “Those petunias will bring some nice color to that patch by the windows.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and then she let out a peal of laughter. “You must have seen them on your way in. I do hope so, you have to come by and see them this evening when I've planted them. Good afternoon to both of you as well, and good luck.”

With that, Mrs. Allen took her leave. Mrs. Douglas greeted her at the door and took her place at the table.

“Good afternoon,” the lady said as though there was nothing good about it, but she remained composed.

The doctor could not tell whether her voice carried some undercurrent of antagonism or just the pain of loss. Did she, like the original Mrs. Ivy Douglas, know her husband - if they truly were married - to still be alive and feared for his freedom, or was she completely in the dark as the housekeeper and butler seemed to be? Or was she but another actress in yet another murder staged as a piece of macabre theater?

And what of Holmes? The doctor glanced at his companion. He seemed to have roused himself from his pretended rest and was now hunched forward, examining Mrs. Douglas with a curious air. The doctor wondered what Holmes found so intriguing, but prepared himself for the worst. As unfortunate as it was, he had a much easier time of things when Holmes was feigning disinterest, even if it was a little unsettling not knowing what he had planned.

The doctor greeted Mrs. Douglas with a solemn nod. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yes, a real tragedy,” Holmes said, almost dismissively.

Mrs. Douglas looked taken aback, as anyone would be by the detective’s tone and piercing gaze. But she asked without a hint of trepidation, “Have you found anything out yet?”

“We are doing everything we can,” the doctor answered, “and we hope that your testimony could help shine a little more light on what happened. No trifle is too small to be of use.”

“I fear there is little I can add. Have you spoken with Cecil yet?”

“What information do you think Mr. Barker will provide?” the doctor asked.

“I didn’t see anything; Cecil wouldn’t let me into the study, said it was too terrible. And he’s known John for much longer than I have.” She spoke in a very matter-of-fact, straightforward way, though her expression remained clouded.

“He’ll have his chance,” the doctor assured her. “Now, can I have your legal name?”

She gave him a look of confusion, but answered all the same, “Ivy Douglas.”

“And your maiden name?”

“Blackmore. Why? What does my name have to do with the case?”

“It’s just a legal matter and good practice to ascertain the identities of one’s witnesses. And where are you from?”

“Newton Abbot, in Devon, though I haven’t lived anywhere long,” she said with a dark chuckle. “As strange as this all is” - she gestured at the house around them - “I’ve really settled down since I married John-” her face fell.

She busied herself with her handkerchief and the doctor gave her a moment to recompose herself.

When she seemed ready, the doctor asked, “There was something unusual about your marriage?”

“I know this isn’t what you’d call a normal household. But I never thought anything like this would happen, John just had some peculiar tastes, that’s all.”

The doctor gave her another moment to recover before moving on, “You said you moved frequently. What for? Work?”

She shook her head. “You could call it youthful restlessness. I lived hand-to-mouth for a while, doing odd jobs or just living by what people were kind enough to give me.”

“How did you meet Mr. Douglas?”

She hesitated, drawing her handkerchief up to her face as though to preserve her appearance of self-possession. “I returned to London to try and get my life together. I was staying at a hotel and he happened to be staying there too - he had returned to England looking for a fresh start too. We met at the hotel bar and it wasn’t long before we were married.”

“And how did you meet Mr. Barker?”

“He’s an old friend of John’s from America. He moved back to England not long after we moved in here and since he’s been around more than he hasn’t.”

“What do you know of Mr. Douglas and Mr. Barker’s pasts? You said they knew each other from America?”

“They tell all kinds of stories of California and their time in Silicon Valley. That’s where they both made their fortunes mining virtual gold.”

“And that’s where they were before they came to England?”

“Yes.”

“What about their lives before then?”

“John avoided talking about his life before he went to California, but I could tell he was afraid of something from his past. He’s had nightmares and once I heard him murmur the name ‘Bodymaster McGinty.’ I asked him about it, but he refused to say any more. A few times, he mentioned a ‘valley of fear’ that he was afraid he would never escape, but that was all he would say about it. I can only assume that’s what happened.” Mrs. Douglas let out a small gasp and ducked behind her handkerchief once more.

She seemed to know her story at least, but whether it came from her or her husband was anyone’s guess. “Do you know why your husband had such peculiar tastes?” Dr. Holmes attempted.

“I always supposed he was just old fashioned,” she said with a shrug.

“Was there anything else that struck you as unusual about your life here?”

She shook her head.

“Mr. Cole and Mrs. Allen mentioned you had a guest last night, who was she?” the doctor asked.

“I think she’s a friend of John and Cecil’s - I don’t know her. Mary Watson, that was her name. Do you think she may have been involved? They did seem a little wary of her, but I was only there for a little while before I went upstairs.”

Before Dr. Holmes had a chance to continue questioning her about the night of the murder, there was a knock on the dining room door.

“Yes?” the doctor called out, perhaps a little impatient.

It was Mr. Cole with Mrs. Houghton in tow.

Dr. Holmes let out a sigh of relief and waved her inside at the same time as Holmes said, “Just a moment, Inspector, if you would be so kind as to wait outside until we’re done.”

She remained standing in the doorway, watching as the argument unfolded.

“What? Why?” the doctor demanded.

“Why do you feel the need for official oversight? You were doing plenty well on your own, weren’t you?” Holmes gave a dismissive wave and his tone suggested it didn’t really matter how well or not Watson was doing.

“What are you playing at?” the doctor snapped. It felt like Holmes was just making argument for argument’s sake.

“I just don’t appreciate your implication that we need official supervision,” Holmes retorted. The nonchalant way in which he said it only served to feed Watson’s ire.

“I let you come along to help! But you’ve done nothing but critique my methods and obstruct my investigation. Mrs. Houghton and the other ‘officials’ have done more to contribute than you have.”

Watson glimpsed a flash of hurt in Holmes’s eyes, but it was gone before he had time to fully register it, and then Holmes was on his feet, towering over them all. Watson could feel a subtle undercurrent of powerful emotion radiating from him - his hands seemed to shake by his sides - but Holmes kept his tone perfectly casual. “I refuse to work under these conditions. If you don’t think you need my help, then so be it - see how you do without me.”

And with that, Sherlock Holmes slunk from the room.

#v writes #Sherlock Holmes #H/W #The Man Who Sold the World

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sweetasssuga · 5 years

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Sope Fic Recs

personal favorites = ♡

new additions = ϟ

Think Tidy by nivo [2k] [general audiences] ♡

Hoseok wins the roommate lottery.

i just wanna hold you close to me by jflawless [2.8k] [teen]

anonymous asked: could i request hoseok massively crushing on asexual yoongi which somehow ends in a cute queerplatonic relationship full of cute kisses oh my god

And My Dick Takes Over, And I'm Thinking 'Bout Your Lips by lilit2468 [4.9k] [explicit]

When Hoseok first hears Yoongi’s part in Cypher pt 3, his brain breaks.

Hoseok loves little people. Hoseok loves filth. Hoseok loves cute voices. Hoseok loves angry voices. Hoseok loves getting his cock sucked sloppy.

Min Yoongi is a little person with an angry voice that suddenly switches into a high, lispy, slurry voice as he begins rapping about oral sex. It’s filthy and intense but still cute, in a way. Not cute in the way that puppies are cute, but cute in the way that has Hoseok thinking Yoongi would be adorable whilst getting fucked until he cried.

Hoseok wants.

sope day 3: Harry Potter AU by Buttercups [5k] [explicit]

"Hoseok is a Hufflepuff, in fifth year. And he doesn’t fit the stereotypes.

He’s obviously as nice as one would expect, but he’s also very confident, talkative, loud sometimes. He looks mischievous in certain situations, and even though it makes him nervous, Yoongi likes him a lot. He thinks maybe they should have exchanged houses at some point, but he’s also the proof that people really are more than what their houses make them out to be, and he gives Yoongi a lot of energy when he lacks it a bit.

All his friends do, but Hoseok - there’s something special about him."

day 3 of the sope week: inspired by: Harry Potter AU, with slytherin yoongi and hufflepuff hoseok, who don't completely fit their houses but find each other through it

Mint Yoongi by imasinner [5k] [teen] ♡

AU where Min Yoongi is a model from Big Hit Agency and Jung Hoseok is a professional hair stylist. Yoongi hates bleaching his hair, and Hoseok massages Yoongi's head for longer than is probably necessary. Hoseok might be a little too gay to deal with a stunning male model.

seize my careless heart by willinglywastingmytime [6.5k] [explicit]

yoongi honestly just wanted some company. he just doesn't understand the implications of texting his boyfriend 'my parents are out of town, wanna come over?'

hoseok is happy to teach him.

And all this devotion (I never knew at all) byinkingbrushes [8.5k] [teen]

Maybe Yoongi is actually really kind of fucking gone for his best friend.

(Also: Hoseok can't sit on a secret for very long because he's terrible at keeping secrets, which is only ironic because he loves Yoongi, too, and Yoongi hasn't figured it out yet.)

Conversations And Exhortations To One Min Yoongi by shikae (39smooth) [10k] [explicit]

There is a List of Things one should always be aware of when Min Yoongi comes into the picture. Jung Hoseok does not get the memo.

Here In Your Arms by taethereal [12k] [explicit]

Coffee orders should really come with a word limit. Unless it gives Hoseok another reason to talk to Yoongi, of course.

boy, you got my heartbeat runnin' away by 777335 [12k] [mature] ϟ

Summer before his third year, Hoseok says he wants to move out of the dorms and Yoongi replies easily, “My lease is almost up, wanna get a place together?”

Hoseok can’t speak for a second, just wants.

“Seok?” Yoongi says, pushing his glasses up with the heel of his hand, tongue poking into his cheek nervously. “We don’t— we don’t have to, never mind.”

“No,” Hoseok says, taking the half step to their table, sliding Yoongi’s beer toward him, settling on his stool with his caipirinha. He chews on the straw. “No, no,” he can feel the smile breaking across his face, “that sounds great, that sounds really nice. Holy shit, yeah, let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” A shy smile touches the corners of Yoongi’s mouth. “Yeah? Okay. We could get a couch for Holly.”

or hoseok and yoongi meet on the internet, become friends, both end up in seoul, become better friends, move in together, and then eat some pancakes. oh, also they make out.

i do talk, but only for you bymysoulrunswithwolves [16k] [mature]

There are two irrefutable truths to the world Hoseok lives in. First, everyone has a soulmate. Second, his soulmate will never find him.

fate may tell you who, but you still get to choose how

dizzy on the comedown by CaptainButts [18k] [teen] ♡

“Are you pitying me?” Hoseok sputters out, his face heating up with annoyance. “You don’t even know me!”

“I think I know people enough to know a lonely face when I see one.” Hook, line, and sinker. He watches a myriad of emotions flicker across Hoseok’s face as he scoffs. Yoongi moves closer to him. “I’m not pitying you, I promise. I’m just saying that maybe I’m a little lonely too.”

(or: yoongi moves into his uncle's home and meets an awfully cute witch in the woods.)

#sope #sope fic recs #sope fics #sope recs #yoonseok #yoonseok fic recs #yoonseok recs #yoonseok fics #bts #bts fic recs #min yoongi #jung hoseok

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kayla-turpin · 4 years

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My Favourite Articles of 2019

Normally, I try to post this as the year is careening to the end, but 2019 was a bit different and I am posting this a month late. I started 2019 with the New Years Resolution to read an article a day. Part of the motivation was to break the habit of mindlessly scrolling Reddit right before bed and be more intentional with my reading habits. The other part was just to see if I could stick to a daily habit. It seemed low-stakes - I already enjoy consuming stories in the longform format and I knew it would take up a marginal slice of time in my day.I didn’t set out with any specific rules, but some did form as the year progressed:

I did not need to limit myself to articles that came out this year - I could delve into the archives and find articles that peaked my interest depending on the mood I was in.

Articles should generally be considered journalistic in nature, but there was no particular length. I generally tried to aim for anything over 10 minutes. I would say the average read time was about 20-25 minutes.

I could read at any point of the day. I occasionally read in the morning, but I would say 90% of the time I read at night.

For tracking purposes, I would use Pocket. As a result, most printed articles went unread.

I am happy to report that I read. I read every single day. Some days were harder than others: I definitely remember one night coming home from the bar and trying to focus on a Zadie Smith article about Graham Greene while the ceiling started to spin. Or moving into my new home and squinting into the light of my phone on a mattress on the floor, no internet and surrounded by towers of boxes. I read quietly to myself the evening follow my uncle’s funeral. I read surrounded by sleeping colleagues after a night out in Denver. I read in coffee shops, on planes, next to the river, on long car rides, on my sister’s pull-out, but mostly from my bed. I read for days on multiple subjects, largely determined by whatever rabbit hole I had fallen into - Chernobyl, MH370, Dirty John, adult friendships, self-help columns, spooky houses, and wacky science discoveries. I read a lot of true crime. I would sometimes take the opportunity to stay abreast on current events.

This goal itself wasn’t revolutionary or life-changing - but I am mostly proud of the fact that I was able to maintain the discipline to do it every day. This year, I am going to maintain the same trajectory but shift over to books with 1-2 days of dedicated time for longform.

Anyway, without further ado, here are some articles I loved* this year!

10. I Accidentally Uncovered a Nationwide Scam on AirBnB - Allie Conti (Vice)

I would be remiss if I didn’t include this article for the sole reason that my colleagues and I were scammed by the same scam! Not entirely, since we SSDGS (stayed sexy and didn’t get scammed), but we initially booked with the exact same fake listing.

The bad news, which went unstated, was that I had unknowingly stumbled into a nationwide web of deception that appeared to span eight cities and nearly 100 property listings—an undetected scam created by some person or organization that had figured out just how easy it is to exploit Airbnb’s poorly written rules in order to collect thousands of dollars through phony listings, fake reviews, and, when necessary, intimidation.

9. The Tinder Swindler - Natalie Remøe Hansen, Kristoffer Kumar, Erlend Ofte Arntsen (VG)

The UX design of longform articles has vastly improved and this article takes full of advantage – I’d suggest reading it for the interactivity alone. Also, I am already sensing a rhythm to this list, one of true crime and elaborate schemes and unsuspecting rubes.

8. Worked at Vice Then Went to Jail - Kate Knibbs (The Ringer)

This article is scattered with a bunch of ‘six degrees of separation’ vibes from people quoted in the article to the geographical snapshot of the Vice office and the borders of Liberty Village and Parkdale. It’s weird thinking that this story was developing blocks away from where I was binge-watching Scandal and eating muffins from The Abbott.

Slava says he wound up in touch with people who were in touch with people who, somewhere along the line, ran a transnational drug trafficking ring organized enough to move humans who smuggled millions of dollars’ worth of product around the globe because he was sick of writing about Canadian music. “I really exhausted the pipeline of potential content,” he said. He’d noticed other writers in the Canadian office get praised for daring reporting, particularly one coworker who’d managed to get a source within ISIS. Pivoting to crime writing sounded exciting.”

7. The Fisherman’s Secret - Giuseppe Pennisi (San Francisco Chronicle)

The deep sea is deeply fa-sea-nating. Ok, that was nau-sea-ating. Ok, I’ll stop. In any case, this article reads like a contemporary treasure hunt. Did you know you like learning about maritime law?

Well, you do now.Joe was about to learn this for himself. It was the biggest secret he had ever needed to keep. So big that he was compelled to just blurt it out. So big it could put his family in danger. And it felt like destiny. He’d come to know it only because of the particular way he fished, the same way his father had, and his grandfather — trawling the ocean floor.He had spent his life on the water, yet when it came to treasure, he was a rank amateur. But he knew something the experts didn’t.Joe knew, within a tiny circle of the Pacific, where a treasure might be.

6. What Really Happened to Malaysia’s Missing Airplane - William Langeweische (The Atlantic)

We will likely never know the answer to this – but this theoretical account, at least, feels close to the truth.

Eleven minutes later, as the airplane closed in on a waypoint near the start of Vietnamese air-traffic jurisdiction, the controller at Kuala Lumpur Center radioed, “Malaysian three-seven-zero, contact Ho Chi Minh one-two-zero-decimal-nine. Good night.” Zaharie answered, “Good night. Malaysian three-seven-zero.” He did not read back the frequency, as he should have, but otherwise the transmission sounded normal. It was the last the world heard from MH370. The pilots never checked in with Ho Chi Minh or answered any of the subsequent attempts to raise them.

5. The Strange Life and Mysterious Death of a Virtuoso Coder - Brendan I. Koener (Wired)

Despite the tragic turn-of-events elucidated in the title, the article is an interesting foray into the life of an enigmatic individual with a raw talent in a language I know little about (despite operating professionally in tech space).

There were occasions, however, when Haas would temporarily shake off the druggy haze and dazzle with his brilliance. Mark Yannitell recalls that Haas figured out how to dramatically improve an open source video encoder so that it could crunch multimegabyte files in a matter of minutes rather than hours. Yannitell urged his friend to capitalize on his achievement, but Haas hemmed and hawed before dropping the project altogether.“He was like Cypher from The Matrix—y'know, ‘You see code, but I see brunettes and redheads,’ ” Yannitell says. “But when he reached that genius moment, when he was on the cusp of some big idea that could maybe change the world, he got nervous.”

4. The Most Gullible Man in Cambridge - Kera Bolonik (The Cut)

I guffawed all the way through this article. Be sure to read the follow-up, because the ride doesn’t stop.

That could help explain why warning signs that might have been obvious to many managed to elude a man who teaches a Harvard Law class on “Judgment and Decision-Making,” which analyzes those elements of human nature that allow us to delude ourselves and make terrible decisions. “Of course, now I feel slightly ridiculous teaching it,” Hay told me, “given how easily I let myself be taken advantage of.”

3. The Stolen Kids of Sarah Lawrence - Ezra Marcus (The Cut)

Another unbelievable story that operates in the shadow of the ivory tower. This story is unsettling, with elements of Dirty John in the methodically-manipulative-yet-charsmatic nature of Larry Ray, the father of one of the students living in the dorm.

Larry’s core program of personal transformation happened on nights they stayed in. After a late dinner, everyone would gather in the living room for a marathon discussion in which the group interrogated one person about anything and everything. Usually, the person being questioned had landed in the hot seat because he or she had done something Larry didn’t like. Trivial mistakes, such as scratching a pan or breaking a plate, were considered intentional manifestations of childhood trauma. The group session’s purpose, Larry explained, was to reveal deep personal truths.

2. Chaos at the Top of the World - Joshua Hammer (GQ)

There will always be places on this earth, especially spaces that push the boundaries of the extreme, that will always have a magical quality. The deep recesses of the ocean, the cusp of the Kármán line, the long stretch of polar landscape. Stories of Everest are no exception, as they always feel heroic and adventurous. This article examines the ever-growing popularity and the danger that ensues.

He swiftly identified the problem: a woman in a red climbing suit adorned with the emblems of a Chinese mountaineering group perched just before the drop-off, unwilling to go forward. The woman's two Sherpa guides were firmly encouraging her to descend the ladder, but she remained paralyzed in apparent fear. For those in the logjam behind her, there was no going around. Everybody was stuck, freezing in the storm.

1. Gimme Shelter - Wes Enzinna (Harper’s)

It goes without saying as I listed it as #1, but this was my favourite read by a long-shot. Longform journalism can be riveting due to the subject matter alone, but can also be so well-written that even describing the confines of a small shack in an unremarkable backyard in Oakland can make your chest feel heavy. This article contained an unexpected callback – I happened to read an article that was tangentially related a couple of years ago that filled in some of the colour. I recommend starting there.

It rained. First for days, then for weeks. The yard filled up with a quarter foot of water, as if somewhere a levee had collapsed, and the heads of coyote mint and monkey flower became lily pads. At night, ghosts of mist rose from the pools, and inside my shack I could see my breath, even with my space heater turned to ten. The power flickered. To use the toilet or kitchen in Erik’s house I dashed through the mud, high-stepping, and returned to the shack soaked and shivering. There was nowhere to sit or lie other than my mattress, so I spent most nights pupated in my sleeping bag, the zipper under my chin, the space heater tucked under the covers with me as I watched the rain fall outside and the waterline creep slowly up the walls.

Honourable mentions

(*I kept the Top 10 list to strictly articles from 2019, but here’s some highlights from the temporal smorgasbord of content available)

Made me feel a little homesick for the streets of Toronto: The Woman Who Built Queen West

If you want to ball your eyes out: The Unthinkable Has Happened

Friends writing and doing cool things: Wonders and Wanders Along The Way

2 Spooky 4 U (Ghost edition): The Murder House

2 Spooky 4 U (Stalker edition): The Watcher

Calling Keith Morrison to come narrate this story immediately: The Body in Room 348

Fitbits aren’t just counting steps anymore: A Brutal Murder, a Wearable Witness, and an Unlikely Suspect

Never forget: When P!nk was Black

If you could get ASMR from reading words: David Chang’s Unified Theory of Deliciousness

Be still, my 1999 tween heart: ‘Cruel Intentions’ Oral History

I am actually obsessed with him, tho: Why Million of People Watch This Youtube Eat 50-year old Rations

A new (laughable) spin on remote work: My Life As a Robot

When music literally soundtracks important moments in your life: The Christmas Tape

The other side of that Aziz Ansari story: The Rise and Fall of Babe.net

Some expert level trolling: I Made My Shed the Top-Rated Restaurant on Trip Advisor

My dirty secret is my love for influencer drama: I Was Caroline Calloway

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ciceroprofacto · 7 years

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Tallmadge, I. (Broken glass) for the meme

Read First: Tinderbox

September 20th 1777

“My cleaning oils are moved- they were here when I left-” Hamilton pushed his papers aside, expecting to find the small memo pad he’d kept his vital cypher key on- “it’s gone…I locked it, it’s-…did…” he picked up the case, jumping to his feet. “Did you open my box?!”

“I…” John stared at him, slack-jawed, blue eyes infuriatingly innocent until they narrowed. “Why do you mind if I opened it?”

It was not a response- not one that Alexander could bear, knowing he’d trusted Laurens to carry his things, to share a tent and share a bed and know his desires…god damn him, he trusted Laurens. That realization was horrifying. If he’d misjudged this…“Did you!”

“Alex-”

A feral noise left his throat and without thinking, Hamilton was swinging the box at John’s chest, jumping on him and pinning his arms to the bed. “Did you open…my stationary box?”

John strained his neck back, “I did.”

Grabbing his collar, Alex hauled their faces close, “What did you take?”

“I don’t know! What?”

“You took it-”

“I didn’t take anything!” he insisted, and Alex wasn’t sure whether to be more confused with the answer or his own inclination to believe it. “Hamilton, what’s this about? I was just reading your notes-”

“What?”

“About Sullivan!” John’s hands on his wrist were warm and gentle, pulling them to release him and Alex obeyed it distractedly. “I wrote a draft of the testimony so you’d read it, I…I’m sorry I did that, but…I didn’t touch anything else in your box, I just brought it in from the cart that came from Birmingham-”

Alex sat back, seeing only honesty on John’s face. He glanced down at himself, straddled over John’s lap like the most natural thing in the world. “You’re sure you didn’t…”

“I didn’t steal from you! I swear it.”

“Was anyone else with you?”

“Major Tallmadge helped me unload everything, but I didn’t see him open your box,” John said, watching him with interest as Alex pushed up from his lap and started moving back through the tent to redress.

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” he said. So Tallmadge had taken the cypher to start his work. Alex knew he was eager to be a spymaster, that he had considered Alexander’s work in New York an inspiration… that he hadn’t known how those words would cut when he’d said them, “I’ll strangle him.”

“Tallmadge stole something from you?” Laurens leaned forward with that charming concernment on his brow. “Something important?”

Alexander buttoned his vest, “No…but someone should have told me before he borrowed it.” He grabbed his coat, “We’ll use your draft of the testimony, I’m sure it’s brilliant…”

…

Tallmadge was exactly where Hamilton had expected him- doing exactly what Alexander had thought he would be doing. Cypher open by his elbow, his back was turned in his tent, candles lit and hunched over his desk. Hamilton threw open the tent flaps loudly, letting his anger rise in him like a tide, fully prepared with a lecture about meddling in another man’s things without his permission- until Tallmadge’s shoulders started shaking.

He hunched over further and Hamilton stepped in quickly, grabbing the man at the crease of the neck to sit up upright. Alexander was expecting an injury, unprepared for the tears on Tallmadge’s cheeks- or the blood on his hand.

Glancing down, it was quickly obvious what had happened. A bottle of whiskey with a broken neck, Tallmadge had dropped the shattered half with the cork at the top of his desk and drank from the smooth edge, cutting his hand at some point in his own sloppy drunkenness.

Alexander maneuvered to his front, grabbing his face in both hands until the other man looked up to meet his eyes blearily. It wasn’t like Tallmadge to drink at camp. He’d held a field post and had always been professional, but…the season- autumn…Hamilton wasn’t sure the exact date it was today, but they had to be close…

Tallmadge winced at his face, and for a moment Alexander forgot that he wouldn’t know why he truly should hate to see him. There had been a time he’d been close to… something comforting with Tallmadge, something like friendship, but that growing affection had quickly snapped, the taught drop of a noose.

“The report?” he slurred.

“What?”

“Did you bring the report?” Tallmadge said, eyes watering freely.

Alexander ignored that question the way he’d stowed the guilt when he’d returned to camp after his ride into New York, understanding his own role in this grief. He’d understood it then… that there’s more than one way to destroy a man.

“I need to bandage your hands…” he said

Major Burr was eyeing the tavern with hesitation- which they really didn’t have the time to be indulging. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Greene wanted this-”

“You think I’m suggesting this for Greene?” Hamilton said.

Burr gave him a withering look as if he could see the strange urge in Alex’s chest to please the general who had invited him to lunch, gifted him a copy of Marcus Aurelius and praised his military promise…

It wasn’t like that. As impatient as Hamilton was to get on with this and get his company moving to Harlem, he hadn’t forgotten his rank and he needed the Major’s approval to carry out this plan. “Greene’s not the only one you said suggested we burn it, right? Jay and Livingston and Washington himself- the army wants this-”

“But Congress doesn’t,” Burr said shortly, and when that didn’t seem to have any sway over Hamilton’s resolve, he made a jab at morality, “Isn’t there a saying- two wrongs don’t make a right?”

“I’m sure this will be far more than two…”

Tallmadge was staring at him while he cleaned out the cut in his palm, brows knit, and if his eyes were a lighter shade of blue- something a little more innocent, Alexander would see John’s coloring- crying with the report that Alex had drowned in the river…

He wondered if Ben ever actually bought the line Washington had instructed him to spread, one life to lose, or if he’d known his friend too well for that.

What it must be like to know someone like that…

“Did you tell anyone you’re here?” Stoker said, voice hushed even though they were safely tucked in the tavern’s storage cellar.

“No…that would be stupid…” Alex said, incredulous that it even bore asking with the risk of what he was proposing, but then, Stoker knew him solely for his less-than-genius decisions, so perhaps the question wasn’t without merit. Still, “you know I hate doing something stupid unless I choose to.”

“And your man outside…?”

“Burr. I didn’t tell him who I was meeting- just that I could find him here. He doesn’t know you.”

“And he won’t…”

“Christoph-”

“Don’t ‘Christopher’ me!” Stoker snapped. “Why should I do this? You’re asking me to burn down my father’s tavern- sacrifice my own inheritance!”

“I understand that this is hard for you,” Alex said, tearing a strip of cloth from Tallmadge’s camp blanket to wrap his palm. “I understand why you wanted to work for Washington and establish an intelligence department- I understand all of that,” he said.

Ben wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“But, I can’t tell if you…” Alex hesitated to say this for how vulnerable it would make him feel, talking about things he himself couldn’t touch- would never be worthy of touching, “I don’t know if you really appreciate what you had.”

Ben looked at him, appalled.

Alex dropped his gaze to the hand he was wrapping, “I mean, I sincerely doubt that Nathan would want you to spend years mourning him. I think he’d be proud of the steps you’re taking to improve the work he started, but…right now, it just seems like you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

He tied a knot over Tallmadge’s palm and the man pulled his hand away quickly.

Alexander sat back and leaned one arm on the desk, “Everyone dies at some point. Some of us are lucky enough to die in remarkable ways. Nathan was one of those people and we made sure he wouldn’t be forgotten for it. But…before he did that, you had the privilege of knowing him- perhaps…” he searched Ben’s face for a moment, the errant curls that had escaped his queue from raking his hands through his hair in agitation, “perhaps loving him.”

Tallmadge stood abruptly and turned his back, took two clumsy steps and he dropped to sit heavily on his cot.

Alex watched from a distance as Ben buried his face in his hands, and he gave him a moment before he continued, “What you’re feeling right now- this pain, it’s good,” he said. “It means you’re alive and sensible. We risk more than our lives to fight a war, to expose ourselves to the kind of endless violence, we’re risking our sensibility- our capacity to remain vulnerable to grief because it’s easier to run away from something painful than it is to let ourselves care about something so vulnerable as another person’s life.”

Ben’s shoulders were shaking again and Alexander had the feeling he was making things worse- he was never much good at talks like this, but still-

“Grief over a fallen friend is good when we use it to fuel meaningful work, to drive us to higher accomplishment in their honor. But, it’s when you roll over and pity yourself, try to drown your grief in liquor or self-inflicted pain…that’s a good way to waste their death.”

Alexander hadn’t chosen for Hale to die, and he certainly hadn’t planned to undermine his mission, but he had decided that the fire was necessary- the best outcome to salvage a total loss. Hale had paid the price of that decision.

He picked up the broken cork of the whiskey bottle, turned it over in his hands…

“Your inheritance?” Alex scoffed. “You hate this place. If you were opposed to burning it down, you would’ve turned me out already…”

Stoker crowded him angrily, “Then, tell me why should I trust you? After last time I did you a favor-”

“I got you the money!”

“After you lost the purse!” Hamilton opened his mouth to protest, but, “Twice!”

“So, you don’t trust me.”

“Of course not!”

“Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” he said. But, this earned an angry, impatient look, and Alexander could feel the seconds ticking away before he’d be thrown out by force. It was a lot to ask- and anger was understandable, but Stoker was a patriot. He should really be eager to do this- grateful for someone offering to cover his tracks. But, Alexander could see that it would take payment of some kind, “How can I show you this isn’t a trap?”

“Collateral,” Stoker said. “I’ve gotta know you won’t turn me over to the reds for this- and when the fighting’s over- whoever wins, I’ve gotta know my name doesn’t leave your mouth.”

It was reasonable. Alexander was already a rebel to the crown, but Stoker still had a life to lose in that regard. Alex didn’t have anything to offer, so he shook his head, “It would be your word against mine…”

“A patriot officer turning over a citizen who did them a favor- whose word is more believable?” Stoker growled, but Alexander was failing to contrive anything better, losing his space to negotiate. “Then there’s your friend outside-”

Right…Major Burr. The evacuation. His company. “There isn’t time for this!” Alex said, frustration expanding into disgust and disappointment, haughty, righteous desperation. “What if I give you a crime of equitable severity to hold over me?”

“A crime?”

“Something where the punishments would be the same. Equal collateral. So if I gave anyone your name, you’d have something to hold over me. Would you do it?”

A sharp nod.

So, then a crime that Alexander could prove- he had an arsenal of stories to incriminate himself, lists of thefts and scandals, even a murder, but no evidence he could trade as proof. It would have to be…

Something he could do here- something…

He drew a deep breath. “As soon as the last of my men have cleared the city, I’ll give you a signal…” he said, meeting Stoker’s eyes with a steady forcefulness. This payment would seek satisfaction, and if this fire didn’t destroy everything the British might take from their seizure of his city, Alexander would be back for blood…he promised himself that.

Then he dropped to his knees.

This part of the bottle still had a trace of Tallmadge’s blood on it.

Stoker had broken a bottle like this over Alex’s head that night. He recalled the rest of the affair with blurred memory, swirling in the color of that red liquid. Stoker had been disgusted with his advances- of course. But, that had been a requirement of the crime- that Alexander was the only ‘willing’ party to the act. That his target resisted it fervently and the sodomite monster forced his vile perverted ways onto him…no matter how Stoker had enjoyed it in reality- how he’d pushed Alex to take more.

Returning to the city, returning to that tavern and facing Stoker again to get the answers only he could give about the aftermath of the destruction, it was clear that the hatred hadn’t faded. Not only for the guilt he now carried, but also for who Alexander was…what he was.

The anger and violence was familiar. Men who enjoyed the payment a little more than they were prepared to, panicking and lashing out. Alex always wondered what made them hate him so much- whether it was the fact that they’d had to trade for the treatment, or maybe disgust with anyone who could perform such a debasing act, but he suspected it had very little to do with him personally and much more with how much they hated themselves for enjoying it.

He wasn’t sure if he hated himself. In general-no, he did not, but in these moments there was not much he liked either.

Tallmadge had stretched himself out on his cot and seemed half-way to sleep already, so Alexander set the bottle aside in pieces and picked up his cypher, standing up to leave before-

“Don’t go…”

He turned.

Ben was sitting up on his elbows, staring at him with an echo of that… something that had almost existed between them. A moment passed and Alexander blinked at him. Then Ben scooted to one side of the cot and settled back down on his side. An obvious invitation- which Alex approached slowly. Putting one knee to the cot, he hesitated, then Ben pulled up his blanket for him, and Alex let himself sink under the covers…let the other man pull him close and put his face quietly into his shoulder.

Alexander lamented the opportunity to share John’s bed tonight. He’d been looking forward to repeating the strange contentedness he’d found in pushing his back flush to John’s chest, but there was no use dwelling on that. He had created this wound, had ordered the fire into existence- necessary as it was, but Nathan Hale had paid the price, and Tallmadge deserved to heal.

He put his arm around him and tucked his face into Ben’s hair.

#tw: transactional sex #mention #nothing graphic #I promise #not even worth an age warning #ficlet #set in chapter 5 #SOA #Song of Alexander

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prideandpen · 7 years

Text

Get to know me Tag Game

Thank you @agwitow for tagging me! :)

Age: 23, though in less than a month I’ll be 24

Biggest fear: Failure. Like big time failure. Like not ammounting to anything failure.

Current time: 7:47pm

Drink you last had: Water

Every day starts with: Convincing myself that getting out of bed is a good idea

Favorite song: Maybe Not today? I have a hard time with fave songs right now, I’ve got so much music I love at the moment by so many great groups

Ghosts: Maybe? I dunno. I believe in a lot of things but for some reason I have a hard time wrapping my mind around ghosts.

Hometown: Troutdale

In love with: Myself

Jealous of: nothing? There are a lot of people I admire but I try to understand that jealousy isn’t healthy or necessary and usually does more damage than good

Killed someone: Not that I’m aware of. But there are plenty of ficxtional characters who have died at my hands.

Last time you cried: last week

Middle name: Jane Elizabeth

Number of siblings: older brother. Plus a sister-in-law

One wish: To have the strength, confidence, and determination to create my own success

Person you last talked to: Joanna

Question you are always asked: I don’t think there is one

Reason to smile: Friends, making plans, days when it rains, clean sheets and clean pajamas, good books, chocolate, music that makes your heart sing, and people who make you laugh because of their opwn happiness

Song you last sang: well I didn’t sing it well but Fantastic Baby

Time you woke up: I think I woke up at about nine something this morning but I didn’t get out of bed until close to 11. Weekend mornings spent in bed are so nice.

Underwear color: Purple. They have daisies on them.

Verse from a song you like: Heh. I just listened to Cypher 4: “I love I love I love myself I love I love I love myself I know I know I know myself Ya playa haters you should love yourself brr”

Worst habit: I guess procrastination, but more like, getting distracted I guess?

X-rays you’ve had: My leg when I was 5. My teeth, many of my teeth. My chest when I was 10. I think that’s it.

Favorite food: Pepperoni pizza, chocolate chunk granola bars, pasta, anything chocolate really. I am not a healthy eater.

Zodiac: Cancer sun sign I don’t know who’s done this one or not and I feel like most of the people I tag in these things don’t do tag games anymore, but I’ll pick a few anyway i guess @elphabun, @theonejlove, @missmollypops, @writerintraining-us, @boothewriter @mangoandsnow

#tag game

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bobbystompy · 5 years

Text

My Top 127 Songs Of 2018

Previously: 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011

Not the most ever... just the second most ever. The record of 132 stands. I hope it is never broken.

As always, criteria and info:

This is a list of what I personally like, not ones I’m saying are the “best” from the year; more subjective than objective

No artist is featured more than once

If it comes down to choosing between two songs, I try to give more weight to a single or featured track

Each song on the list is linked in the title if you wanna check any or every out for yourself; there is also a Spotify playlist at the bottom that includes 122 of the 127 songs

Well?

youtube

/grins

127) B.o.B - “Food Fight”

Some triplet rap, pretty boring, and I have no idea what this song is supposed to be. But the “Food of the WiFi” part makes me laugh, and I always picture my buddy Matto singing it to his eye rolling wife (even though I’m pretty sure he’s never heard the song before).

126) French Montana f/ Drake - “No Stylist”

This song sucks -- even Drake can’t save it. French Montana is cancer except you don’t get to die.

125) 21 Savage - “Monster”

Not a huge Savage guy, but the Gambino verse helps.

124) The Kooks - “All The Time”

Kind of a lazy chorus, but it’s aight.

123) Sean Paul f/ Jhené Aiko - “Naked Truth”

Love Aiko, have never cared for Paul... but the collab weirdly works.

122) REASON - “Summer Up”

My buddy Josh sent this one, and it’s got the warm vibes. Money stretch:

P asked me is REASON still workin', shit N***a, is Amber Rose still twerkin', gold diggers still flirtin' horny teens still jerkin', all my exes still lurkin' black lives still hurtin', black lives still hurtin'?

121) Nipsey Hussle f/ YG - “Last Time That I Checc’d”

B’s vs. C’s. And a beat that sounds like DJ Mustard combined with ‘90s G-funk. Also, YG’s bandanna scarf is just very cute.

120) Thrice - “Only Us”

Weirdly, another reds and blues music video. But this time, it’s kids at a summer camp. This could absolutely be used by networks as a pump up song for sporting events.

119) Anderson .Paak f/ Kendrick Lamar - “TINTS”

Anderson .Paak -- ohhhh, that dot will always annoy me -- really does not make bad songs. Kung Fu Kenny fits right in, and it’s a very easy hit-the-spot driving song.

118) Mr Hudson f/ Vic Mensa - “Coldplay”

A serious song that uses an emotional reliance on Coldplay to take objective shots at Coldplay, which is pretty hilarious. Vic’s verse is good (”I lost my Queen poppin’ Ace of Spades at King of Diamonds ... I hate Coldplay”).

117) Logic f/ Wu-Tang Clan - “Wu Tang Forever”

Long cypher song. If you care about hip-hop, you probably know Drake also released a song called “Wu-Tang Forever” five years ago (which featured no members of Wu-Tang). There was talk of a remix -- RZA even recently said he wished they did -- but Inspectah Deck articulated why it didn’t happen back then:

“When I finally got to hear the song, I was more or less like, ‘Wow, I thought it was a tribute song like, it would be in respect of all eight members,'” Deck said. “And when I heard it, it was about a girl.”

You can just sense the colossal and spiritual disappointment.

Well, this one is more about fire than females; you’ll shout “Wu-Tang” proudly at least once. My MVP verse is Ghostface.

116) Jhené Aiko f/ Rae Sremmurd - “Sativa”

Rae Sremmurd* still sound like little kids to me. Conversely, Jhené Aiko is all that is woman.

(* - never knew they were brothers until just now)

115) Sam Coffey & The Iron Lungs - “First Time”

Sam Coffey first got on my radar with The Clash-sounding song “Talk 2 Her”. This is less of that and more, like, ‘80s hair metal. It’s almost hard to tell if this is sincere or parody. The video absolutely does not take itself seriously.

114) Saves The Day - “Kerouac & Cassady”

Always been impressed with the very unthreatening Chris Conley’s ability to create such sinister, dark, and menacing imagery. This maybe has the most bleak closing line of any of these songs.

113) 5 Seconds Of Summer - “Youngblood”

This is what Fall Out Boy tries to sound like with their new stuff... but they just suck so bad now.

112) She Killed In Ecstasy - “Dissension (Gold)”

I remembered this being a dope instrumental before totally forgetting about the just-as-awesome vocals; great band name, too. Recommended by my friends Jim and Bill over brunch after taking in their show at Subterranean in Chicago the previous night. This could be the closing theme for a critically acclaimed TV show.

111) Night Birds - “My Dad Is The BTK”

Straightforward, bratty punk rock that promotes snitching (if you’re sure it’s for the right reasons).

110) The Decemberists - “Once In My Life”

Why does such an outwardly melancholy song still feel so damn uplifting? Probably the video. They have a long statement attached on YouTube, so for sure peep if this catches your interest.

109) Mad Caddies - “She’s Gone”

Here we have a straight up reggae cover of NOFX. Sometimes I don’t think I like this song at all, but it might just be hard to separate it from the original; almost wish it was possible to go in with a clean slate. Maybe you can on my behalf?

108) Rivers Cuomo - “Two Broken Hearts”

Would you rather not know the video uses Bitmojis or the pre-chorus promotes two different ice cream brands before the song ends?

107) XXXTENTACION - “Train food”

This song is intense; gave me memories of listening to Kendrick’s “The Art of Peer Pressure”. X not surviving 2018 makes it that much more haunting.

106) Kanye West & Lil Pump f/ Adele Givens - “I Love It”

Not sure why, in his most embattled year yet, Kanye decided to be a part of such a derogatory song towards women. Listening to it makes me feel bad. And sure, the MAGA imagery will be what we think of when we think of 2018 Yeezy, but this picture shouldn’t be too far off either.

Shark: jumped.

105) New Lenox - “Do You Think We Made The Most Of Those New Years Eves”

That is a very long song title. But not as long as the time since passed on this reflection of the final night of the year, over a decade now gone. But even though he’s looking back, you know Chris Trott gets to hit reset at the end of the night, whether it’s December 31st or January 1st. And when NYE hits again, whether you return to the same party in the same place or a different experience in a totally different hemisphere, celebrating something is what makes this all matter.

(Full disclosure: yours truly has a minor backup vocal part in the outro)

104) Jeff Tweedy - “Having Been Is No Way To Be”

This for sure made it on the list because of the “And if I was dead, what difference would it ever make to them?” line, but upon closer scrutiny, the “And I’m sorry when you wake up to me” line is even more crushing.

103) Panic! At The Disco - “Dying In LA”

Brendon Urie’s voice is so polished and full. This song is him in complete control, and he knows it too (the “Dyin’ in LA” falsetto part at the end of the chorus is... probably not necessary).

102) Sugarland f/ Taylor Swift - “Babe”

Though Taylor’s impact in the music video is significantly stronger than her impact in the actual song, it’s still rock solid country. Or... country solid country?

/curtsies

101) ZHU & Tame Impala - “My Life”

This song has such a dancy cool on the power of its instrumentation; really doesn’t need vocals at all.

100) Kidd Russell & Southside Jake - “Slow Motion”

The poppiest SSJ has ever sounded. This is his best song to date. I’m not so sure if “Shots kill the butterflies” is an actual expression, but it should be.

99) Hop Along - “What The Writer Meant”

Hot damn, what a voice. This song is beauty in our not-often-beautiful world.

98) Retirement Party - “That’s How People Die”

This reminds me of a female fronted version of the departed Modern Baseball. Eager to see how they develop and definitely plan on checking their Audiotree session soon.

97) Lil Peep - “Sex With My Ex”

It’s... really good, you guys. The grimy nihilism of the “Fuck me like we’re lying on our deathbed” is palpable. It’s impossible not to think of the heights Peep would have almost definitely hit had he not passed. Also, super interesting tidbit on how the album got posthumously made:

Lil Peep died of an accidental drug overdose last November [2017] at 21. Afterward, attention turned to his computer. First, it went to London, where the files were backed up by First Access Entertainment, the company that helped guide his career.

Then it went to his mother, Liza Womack. In an interview in her cozy Long Island home, sitting on a nondescript couch that belonged to Peep and was shipped cross-country after his death, she calmly recalled walking into an Apple store, handing the laptop to a clerk, and saying: “My son died. This is him. Take this and put it on a new one.”

96) Kurt Vile - “Bassackwards”

I was on the beach, but I was thinkin’ about the bay

This has Kurt Vile’s signature laid back-ness (good) but also has a 9:46 track length (VERY VERY BAD). I’m not saying it has to be even four minutes long... but, like, could you have given us seven, KV? All of that aside, it really doesn’t slog at all despite mostly staying the same the whole time. Though I still can’t stop thinking about how much shorter it should be.

95) Christine And The Queens - “Doesn’t matter”

Kinda ‘80s pop sounding. Also, there’s a foreign accent there. British maybe?

/googles

French! Even better.

94) Brendan Kelly And The Wandering Birds - “Shitty Margarita”

Wish the drums were louder, BK.

93) Courtney Barnett - “Nameless, Faceless”

Barnett does not fuck around with her chorus/old adage:

I wanna walk through the park in the dark Men are scared that women will laugh at them I wanna walk through the park in the dark Women are scared that men will kill them

This type of perspective, down to the description of how she has to hold her keys in a way your average dude might not think about, remains so crucial as we all hope to continue to better understand each other.

92) Jeff Rosenstock - “Powerlessness”

Meet me at the Polish bar I'll be the one looking at my phone Shaking like a nervous kid Absolutely terrified of being alone

...it doesn’t sound how it reads. All of his skittish energy fuels this fist pumping jam. And don’t miss the guitar solo.

91) Charli XCX - “5 In The Morning”

Pretty standard fare pop song, but Charli makes it cooler and better than if the average person jumped on.

90) Pinegrove - “Darkness”

Gonna be honest: it was nearly impossible to listen to Pinegrove in 2018 without thinking of the sexual coercion accusations from the previous year. Jenn Pelly’s long ass piece really did nothing to help matters. So because of all this, I listened to their new album “Skylight” wayyyyy less than originally anticipated. The few times -- really maybe ‘time’ in all actuality -- I was able to separate the story from the songs, it definitely became enjoyable. This has head clearing guitar leads and a lyric straight outta Sublime’s “Garden Grove”.

89) Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson - “Bad Dreams”

Brooding, nighttime, driving; good ingredients for a successful duet.

88) Meek Mill f/ Rick Ross & JAY Z - “What’s Free”

Now, if I’m Rick Ross, I spend my entire career avoiding any situation where people can compare me to Biggie. But since Rick Ross is Rick Ross, he went with the opposite plan. This is his (to my knowledge) second reimagined Biggie song*, and... it’s... it’s rough. I mean, how far can you take it with the line “Mona Lisa, to me, ain't nothin' but a b***h” and end with a gay slur. Pass.

But we also have the GOAT. In classic Jay fashion, he spits a lot of good words, you know it’s complex, and there’s no way to process it without more listens. And yes, the immediate brand checks are super annoying, but he pushes through and delivers some bars:

They gave us pork and pig intestines Shit you discarded that we ingested, we made the project a wave You came back, reinvested and gentrified it Took n****s' sense of pride, now how that's free?

When he finishes, the song itself ends, and we have one of the more long and uneven Jay cameos ever put on wax. It’s, like, a 5-star B-.

(* - the first being 2014′s “Nobody”, a take off “You’re Nobody [Til Somebody Kills You]”, featuring French Montana, which spawned an all-time Rap Radar comment, “If someone killed French, he’d still be a nobody”; I will bring it up with the most minor of segues for the rest of my life)

87) Red City Radio - “In The Shadows”

I tend to prefer Red City Radio playing more uptempo, but they drag us down to a slower speed for this one. This centers around the cryptic “I show no fear when I know that the devil’s here” line, and the guitar solo is definitely overqualified for the genre.

86) Kanye West - “Yikes”

/cracks knuckles

The song: banging chorus, solid beat, lyrics meh. Of course it was the song he got Drake for, because it’s the only one on his solo release that vaguely resembled a hit.

The album: Calling “ye” bad is a little unfair, but the best and realest description is sadder: it’s Kanye’s most inessential record. It was forgettable at best and cringeworthy/offensive at worst. The one about his daughter was particularly appalling:

Don't do no yoga, don't do pilates Just play piano and stick to karate I pray your body's draped more like mine And not like your mommy's

This doesn’t even get into the entirely warped mental health takes that I’m not nearly qualified enough to address.

Kanye himself: Every Kanye fan has defended Kanye, some Kanye fans have abandoned Kanye, but 2018 was legitimately the tipping point where it felt like we all finally had enough, in unification. Shock, betrayal, and disappointment are probably the best adjectives. When you are willing to forgive someone for 90% of their behavior, and they up their bullshit to 110%, an understandable separation must occur. At this point, the man we once called Yeezus is now the hip-hop Louis C.K.: no type of constructive or negative feedback can penetrate his brain, and any new attempts at creative output only make everything worse.

85) Royce da 5′9′’ f/ Eminem & King Green - “Caterpillar”

As lyrical as it gets on this list, but what else do you expect from Em and Royce? Not a huge fan of the chorus (at least that loud part in the first half). Eminem legit goes off for, like, ten lines with a pooping metaphor to close the song.

84) Nicki Minaj - “Barbie Dreams”

Staying in the redone Biggie songs lane, we have Nicki with a passive evisceration of your favorite male rapper. You can call it crass, but I’d argue her playfulness makes the whole thing work, combined with the fact that it’s flipping the male gaze on its head. And though she’s having fun, some of these movie punches catch real faces. My favorites:

3) “Drake worth a hundred mill, he always buyin' me shit / But I don't know if the pussy wet or if he cryin' and shit”

2) “I remember when I used to have a crush on Special Ed / Shoutout Desiigner 'cause he made it out of special ed”

1) “Had to cancel DJ Khaled, boy, we ain't speakin' / Ain't no fat n**** tellin' me what he ain't eatin'”

Goodbye forever, DJ Khaled.

83) Bad Bunny f/ Drake - “MIA”

I do social media for my high school alma mater’s football team, and this song first got on my radar when of the players tweeted something like “I can’t understand a word, but this is really good”. I was piqued, and it delivered. Nobody cultural appropriates quite like Drizzy Drake. Also, am I the only one who would have maybe been happier if the song was called “Bad Bunny” and the featured artist was M.I.A.?

82) Phoebe Bridgers - “Christmas Song”

Christmas songs are hard to write because they’re either taken or terrible, but Bridgers definitely carved out her own lane. This could work as a single person under a spotlight or sung by a group of lonely strangers finding camaraderie at a bar; within the song, you actually get both scenarios.

81) Remo Drive - “Blue Ribbon”

Got into this band for the first time in 2018, and though some of their older songs got more spins, this was my favorite from the new album.

80) The Sidekicks - “Twin’s Twist”

Mostly just impressed they were able to seamlessly integrate the “Chronic 2001″ into lyrics of a lighter rock song.

79) Real Friends - “From The Outside”

My favorite chorus they’ve ever written. While remaining thoroughly pop punk, the catchiness puts it more on the pop side of that spectrum.

78) Mike Posner - “Song About You”

Posner sounds like he’s barely trying, and it’s still so, so good. Favorite moment is this non-rhyme: “Since you’ve been gone, I got nothing to do / I sleep until noon, I wake up and feel bad”. It’s like a pop freestyle or something.

Also, extra shout out for how well he took his social media roasting after the Thanksgiving performance in Detroit. Love this dude.

77) Bad Religion - “The Kids Are Alt-Right”

What if I told you Bad Religion made a song with an intro that sounded like Andrew W.K.’s “Party Till You Puke” but were somehow still able to stay afloat? Hell, I’m confused too. The satirical lyrics mark 2018 for what it was. The pre-chorus, I remain torn on.

76) Blood Orange - “Saint”

You said it before

Looped keyboard beat over some smooth lyrics and melodies.

75) Juice WRLD - “Lucid Dreams”

I cannot change you so I must replace you

Still unclear how this *isn’t* a Post Malone song.

74) Tancred - “Queen Of New York”

Own the city.

73) We Were Sharks - “Drop The Act”

Ohhhhh, I love this production.

72) Cloud Nothings - “Leave Him Now”

This band continues to possess all of the melodic fury (and the Russell Westbrook of drummers).

71) Childish Gambino - “Summertime Magic”

Wasn’t big on “This Is America”*, so Glover releasing an ode to the best season as an alternative selection helped.

(* - at least not the song; vid was interesting)

70) The 1975 - “Love It If We Made It”

The 1975 are one of those bands where liking them makes you feel like an alien because everyone else either loves or dogs them. I’m keepin’ this casual, aight?

Also, since all writers are contractually obligated, we must mention the “Fucking in a car, shooting heroin” line which opens the song.

69) Kississippi - “Cut Yr Teeth”

Saw this band play in a classroom at a high school (google “BLED FEST”) in Michigan in May of 2018. They were fun, diverse, and covered Jimmy Eat World’s “The Middle”. This tune is a little more serious and locked in.

68) Muncie Girls - “Picture Of Health”

Every part of this song is well-written, but it all builds to a massive chorus.

67) Justin Timberlake f/ Chris Stapleton - “Say Something”

There was a time, in January 2018, when not a ton of music had dropped yet, and this song was everywhere. It was like the dead-of-winter equivalent to the Song of the Summer. This one definitely gets docked some points for what I’d call weak lyricism. You can tell both dudes were way into it though, which does help make up for it some.

66) Interpol - “The Rover”

As speedy as I’ve ever heard Interpol; pretty unskippable.

65) Dashboard Confessional - “Catch You”

Imagine if this were the only Dashboard song you’d ever heard. You’d think they were, like, happy. Our protagonist has a trustworthy assurance that should put you at ease.

64) Gulfer - “Secret Stuff”

No singing on this list will alienate you faster than the first eight seconds of this one.

63) Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever - “Talking Straight”

Though this feels like two band names in one, RBCF know exactly what they’re doing as it pertains to the actual songwriting. This would fit right in during the mid-2000s garage/indie rock boom; could listen to the chorus on a loop.

62) Rita Ora f/ Cardi B, Bebe Rexha & Charli XCX - “Girls”

This song has the unique distinction of being think pieced and outraged cycled before I even got a chance to hear a second of it. The case:

Now, it goes without saying that the best people to explain why this song feels damaging and hurtful to queer women are queer women themselves – girls who kiss girls whether they’ve been gulping back Malbec or not. “A song like this just fuels the male gaze while marginalizing the idea of women loving women,” wrote Hayley Kiyoko on Twitter. Kehlani said it has “many awkward slurs, quotes, and moments”. MUNA’s Katie Gavin noted that in ‘Girls’ she hears “the familiar chorus that women’s sexuality is something to be looked at instead of authentically felt”.

To her credit, Ora apologized the very same day that piece came out (PUN INTENDED). What’s weird is the idea of this song being problematic made me like it more. It gives the sexual flippancy of the chorus authenticity. I don’t know, man -- this stuff is complicated.

Not complicated? Cardi B’s awful green screen cameo featuring cheap looking special effects.

/shakes head in disappointment

61) Eminem f/ Ed Sheeran - “River”

Though not apples to apples -- since he’s not spitting -- we shall remember this as the time Ed Sheeran > Eminem in a song.

Marshall remains our unquestioned king of the ‘relationship dysfunction’ genre.

60) Culture Abuse - “Calm E”

Everyone’s getting back together

The writers of the perfect and generational “Dream On” continue to stay in the mellow lane with their subsequent releases. When you can pull off both, why not?

59) Brian Fallon - “Silence”

Fallon covers -- /checks notes -- Marshmello f/ Khalid, but it really could be an original. Dude really knows how to pick ‘em. I remember hearing this randomly at Shinto (a sushi/hibachi place) in Naperville; don’t remember if it was this or the original. Such a moving chorus.

58) Okkervil River - “Don’t Move Back To LA”

Gotta appreciate the persistent sentiment -- even though it’d be the opposite of my advice. Also took about 99.9% of the year for me to stop calling this band “Overkill” River in my head.

57) Natalie Prass - “Short Court Style”

Uber catchy and with a real groove.

56) The Interrupters - “She’s Kerosene”

2018 Rancid, down to the raspy-ish singing from Aimee Allen.

55) boygenius - “Me & My Dog”

When I heard Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers, and someone named Lucy Dacus were forming a super group, I was stoked. This tune was the one that jived the most with my vision of the project. Amazingly sick harmonies, dropping elbows on your heart like a professional wrestler, and introspection on introspection.

I wanna be emaciated I wanna hear one song without thinking of you I wish I was on a spaceship Just me and my dog and an impossible view

So, so, so, so good.

54) Shack Wes - “Mo Bamba”

How do you explain “Mo Bamba” to someone who doesn’t like rap? How do you explain “Mo Bamba” to someone who does like rap? I don’t know, but I am Teddy Bridgewater now.

53) Lil Dicky f/ Chris Brown, Ed Sheeran, DJ Khaled & Kendall Jenner - “Freaky Friday”

If you thought Rita Ora’s “Girls” was messy, allow me to introduce you to our last bad rap song on the list. Actually, maybe the Virginia Tech women’s lacrosse team would be a better candid--OHHHHH LADIES NO!!!!!!!!11111111

So yeah, whether it’s the most lightning rod word in American history, cultural appropriation, reverse cultural appropriation, or even just a good ol’ “I Blame Chris Brown” take, this attempt at comedy hip-hop got put under a microscope for all the right and wrong reasons. No one came out unscathed. But, like Ora’s song, if you can ignore some components (read: nearly everything), it’s so god damn fun, man. I mean, Dicky and Chris Brown swapped bodies -- pretty nuts. And it’s rare for an MVP line to be “How his dick staying perched up on his balls like that?”

52) Jay Rock f/ Kendrick Lamar, Future & James Blake - “King’s Dead”

I gotta go get it- I gotta go get it- I gotta go get it- I gotta go get it

The back half of the Future verse is the worst part about this song... yet the most fun to talk about. He raps auto-tuned, in falsetto... and these are the lyrics:

La di da di da, slob on me knob Pass me some syrup, fuck me in the car La di da di da, mothafuck the law Chitty chitty bang, murder everything

What a disgrace. Yet, almost like a whimsy 2 Chainz verse, it’s really fucking memorable.

51) Soccer Mommy - “Your Dog”

Noticeably good bassline? Check. Skin crawlingly bad band name? Check. Cool swearing? Yup.

50) Vince Staples - “FUN!”

Vince could rap his way out a bottomless pit; floating elevation flow.

49) Dan + Shay - “Tequila”

Tried so hard to get this one next to “Shitty Margarita”. Genuinely love this song. Maybe it’s the mountains in the music video, but that chorus just soars.

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48) Meg Myers - “Numb”

Look up in the air and see this tidal wave chorus crashing through the world in slow motion.

47) The Penske File - “Fairgrounds”

My new working theory -- which really feels more like fact -- is how cool lyrics with the phrase “Meet me...” are. It creates this aura of unknown, mystery, and maybe even danger; like anything could happen if you just agree. Here are some from songs just off the top of my head:

Meet me by the lake

Meet me at the reservoir

Meet me in Montauk

Meet me in the middle (more on that one later)

Meet me in the back

Meet me at midnight

The list goes on. So please say “yes” to The Penske File at the fairgrounds, won’t you?

46) Lil Wayne f/ Swizz Beatz - “Uproar”

Weezy goes this entire song only using “oh” rhymes; not sure how he does it. Sometimes, I listen to this and pretend I’m a buffalo.

45) Cardi B - “Be Careful”

Cardi sampled Lauryn (wayyyyyyyy more on this later) and made it work. The chorus always sticks with me, and though the verses have a few bumps along the way, they might even be better.

44) Elway - “Crowded Conscience”

Elway pulls up their roots in this All Colorado Everything lyric video, and you’ll be ready to tap the Rockies when the singalong chorus finishes.

43) Pkew Pkew Pkew - “Passed Out”

A punk rock drinking song with a real bummer of a chorus for how happy the theme itself comes across.

42) Joyce Manor - “I Think I’m Still In Love With You”

I have no scientific proof, but Barry’s lyrics seem to be getting worse and worse. The drug references are still there, sure, but there’s an almost elementary simplicity to the proceedings. Still, like “Heart Tattoo”, this song doesn’t get in its own way and takes advantage of the basic words to create a big, big hook. You sing along even though it feels too easy at times.

41) Alkaline Trio - “Throw Me To The Lions”

So much desperation in the chorus; this could work as their last ever song.

40) The Bombpops - “Dear Beer”

My favorite opening line on this whole list -- the sweet and simple “I’m about to hit send / I’m waiting for the weekend”. Before you know it, a full blown self-loathing chorus. It’s got it all.

39) Foxing - “Lambert”

In quiet awe listening to this masterpiece of a song. Saw this band way up close in 2018 -- here is a picture:

Hello, Foxing

38) Lucero - “To My Dearest Wife”

Civil War soldier or rigorous rock and roll touring schedule? Either way, the Lucero singer misses his wife and family, and he’s gonna let you know they’re on his mind. I saw them open for Frank Turner in 2018, and he played their new album front to back -- before it had been released -- as their entire set because “I promised to do this when drunk on Instagram”. Gotta respect a man with principles.

37) BlocBoy JB f/ Drake - “Look Alive”

Favorite Drake hook of the year. BlocBoy JB... less necessary. Also kinda crazy to think we didn’t know who producer Tay Keith was at the beginning of 2018; definitely made his impression felt by the end.

36) The Front Bottoms - “Tie Die Dragon”

As psychedelic as I’ll ever get. Unless it’s, like, The Beatles. But that’s different.

35) The Lawrence Arms - “Laugh Out Loud”

Released on their Best Of record (legitimately titled “We Are The Champions Of The World) and an “Oh! Calcutta!” b-side from 2006, TLA prove even their leftovers can be a main course.

34) Tinashe f/ Future - “Faded Love”

I know he’s a rapper and she’s a singer, but nothing is more illustrative of how much harder women have to work compared to men than the 1:36 mark when Tinashe sensually sings “Let’s just feel this feeling”, doubled with Feature’s auto-tuned ass doing the exact same thing, only 10x worse. Not enough to taint the song, even a little. His verse, however...

33) Chance The Rapper - “65th & Ingleside”

Chance -- who almost always makes the correct choices -- did this super annoying thing where he released a bunch of songs in single batches in 2018.

“But Bobby, he gave you tons of free music! Why are you complaining?!”

Because we couldn’t easily sequence it, bruh. Look at this shit!:

Not even Drake would pull this stunt. EP next time, Chano.

Anyway.

Fun lines, really contagious beat, and a few types of flows; he spazzes at the end.

32) Complainer - “Drunk (Again)”

Gotta love when a song can’t start until multiple beer cans crack. These guys are a tiny band inspired-by-but-better-than Jeff Rosenstock, and I hope they get so much more traction.

31) ScHoolboy Q f/ Kendrick Lamar, Saudi & 2 Chainz - “X”

I LIVE ON TEN

Always read this title as the letter X even though the word “ten” is used 40 times in the song.

30) KIDS SEE GHOSTS (Kanye West & Kid Cudi) - “Reborn”

From Kanye’s only useful project in 2018 comes “Reborn”. Luckily, it’s mainly Cudi on this track (chorus/bridge/a verse). It feels like Ohio’s son is breaking through... or breaking out; verging on real triumph over his demons. Kanye, meanwhile, is surprisingly understated (read: good) and fits into all of his parts like a non-OJ glove. The sparing use of Yeezy reminds me of how the master himself used to feature people like Chief Keef just enough to harness the talent but not enough to ruin the song or do too much. Those alpha days appear to be way in the rearview now.

29) Travis Scott f/ Drake, Swae Lee & Big Hawk - “SICKO MODE”

Stacey Dash, most of these girls ain’t got a clue

This joins “Mo Bamba” in the Top 2 of Rap Songs That Need To Be Played At All Parties In The Year 2018. While “Bamba” is more consistent -- seriously, “SICKO MODE” is four songs in one -- almost nothing tops hearing the start of this and immediately anticipating the rest (like the opening of “Tuesday” when that was hot). The third part is probably my favorite. #likealight

28) SOB X RBE f/ Zacari & Kendrick Lamar - “Paramedic!”

Our third selection from the “Black Panther” soundtrack. Second favorite beat of 2018; I can’t not move the second it drops.

27) Drug Church - “Unlicensed Hall Monitor”

Favorite guitar leads of 2018. It’s as sleek as the vocals are gruff.

26) Matt And Kim - “FOREVER”

Was a dead tie between this and the equally emotional “Youngest I Will Be”. But this one has a vid -- and they make the best vids. This song also references the 1992 Dream Team. Our world will never be shit if they stay a part of it; first time I’ve came close to tearing up so far. These two inspire.

25) The Ramblin’ Boys Of Pleasure - “Joyce Jawbreaker”

Speaking of turrs, my band of 14 years released our maybe last song ever in 2018. Written in Maine, titled for Joyce Manor and Jawbreaker, and about lost love, Chicago, futures, playing music with your brothers, tiny hands, and found love. We also did a video:

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24) Ariana Grande f/ Nicki Minaj - “the light is coming”

I really, truly am not excluding “thank u, next” to be contrarian. While I agree that is her defining song of 2018 -- and biggest hit to date? -- “the light is coming” is so much more unique. It goes in so many directions while the hook ties the rope around you a hundred times. Yep, I’m right.

23) Laura Jane Grace & The Devouring Mothers - “Apocalypse Now (& Later)”

Wish I could forever keep this song’s opening line as my mantra: You make me walk away from the hate I carry.

22) Restorations - “Nonbeliever”

Another band that should be bigger, so they can always be free to do anything they want. This song will always boil down to this part, which captures the push and pull of 2018 America:

I love your protest lines Oh, but who has the time? We all saw the same thing at the same time, okay? Got a partner for starters And a kid on the way Can’t be doing all this dumb shit no more

For how crass, clumsy, and non-rhyming that concludes, the song itself ends dire.

21) The Get Up Kids - “I’m Sorry”

One of my favorite videos of 2018. Similar to “Apocalypse Now (& Later)”, I’m not sure if it’s about a love interest or a kid. Does it matter? No. But it does to me.

20) Antarctigo Vespucci - “Freakin’ U Out”

A band name for the ages. With Chris Farren (of Fake Problems) on vox and Jeff Rosenstock on instruments, this song could power a car -- or at least one person who didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.

19) Bayside - “It Don’t Exist”

Anthony Raneri has a new grill, but this song feels 50 years old. A classic in real time.

18) The Carters - “APESHIT”

Is this artsy, all-time vid somewhat undermined by the Migos ad libs?

Yes.

/makes note to maybe dress up like this for Halloween next year

17) Post Malone f/ 21 Savage - “rockstar”

This song is so good -- albeit misogynist and also bad -- it makes me genuinely eager for a 21 Savage verse. And though I love any bars relating to his 12-car garage...

my favorite 21 savage quirk is his yearly 12 car garage updates:

2016: “why you got a 12 car garage?”

2017: “they like ‘savage why you got a 12 car garage / and you only got 6 cars?’”

2018: “why you got a 12 car garage? / cause i bought 6 new cars”

(via @ottergawd)

...his intro line is just so, so terrible: “I've been in the Hills fuckin' superstars / Feelin' like a popstar”. You know that’s... not really a rhyme, right?

16) Andrew McMahon In The Wilderness - “Ohio”

/will always, always death stare that dumb name to start any Andy section

Ah, but if we did start with a lyric?

Katie’s counting crows

This song is about leaving the worst state for one of the best. But if we’re doing that, why do we feel so melancholy?

15) Kendrick Lamar & SZA - “All The Stars”

You've gotta be mesmerizing to make Kung Fu Kenny look pedestrian, but SZA's galactic hook does just that.

14) Frank Turner - “1933″

Frank isn’t from here, but he’s setting out to remind us of where this all began.

13) The Wonder Years - “Sister Cities”

As far as pop punk legacies are concerned, The Wonder Years’ is secure. There is no longer necessity to churn out bangers; they’re already on the Mount Rushmore. Still, they go. Every part of this song is essential: the build up verses, blown out chorus, Panic! At The Disco 2005-era hi-hat off-time drum transitions, end-of-the-rope bridge. The true standout is the closing of V2:

I'm guarded like I'm wounded, my first instinct's always “run” I wanna turn to steam I wanna call it off I wanna lighten the dark I wanna swallow the sun

Good guitar leads add even extra.

12) YG f/ 2 Chainz, Big Sean & Nicki Minaj - “BIG BANK”

“Alexa, what does big bank do to little bank?”

The highlight line from each:

YG: “Ayy, I set the bar, I'm the fuckin' bar / Look in the sky, I'm a fuckin' star / I don't fall in love 'cause I be lovin' hard / Do everything like my shirt, extra large”

2 Chainz: “Big shit like a dinosaur did it”

Big Sean: “I'm rare as affordable health care”

Nicki: “Told em' I met Slim Shady, bagged a Em / Once he go black, he'll be back again”

Let this also be remembered as the song that created a Madden controversy.

11) Dean Summerwind - “Parked By The Lake”

What is there to say about the legend that is Dean Summerwind? With only one song on Spotify, he’s batting a clean 1.000. Calling this genius feels like an understatement. It’s real, it’s parody, it’s persistent, it’s ours.

10) The Dirty Nil - “Bathed In Light”

The Canadian Local H. Reaaaaaaaally wanna see them live in 2019.

9) oso oso - “gb/ol h/nf”

I stylized oso oso as “Oso Oso” last year to stick it to their frontman Jade, but a year later, I’ve lost the energy. Blame Ariana Grande. This song -- which stands for “goodbye old love, hello new friend”* -- has my favorite chorus of the year. It’s so simple, it’s obvious: “But I still come through, when you want / And if I serve no use, where do I get my purpose from?”

Also, this is indie/pop/punk/rock’s version of “SICKO MODE”: got more parts than “The Wire”.

(* - had to look that up multiple times in 2018 and never retained, despite it being the bridge of the song... I didn’t notice)

8) Kacey Musgraves - “Space Cowboy”

If any song *survives* the existence of this list, I hope it’s this one. Kacey has this predictable-yet-surprising way of taking existing tropes and co-opting them with her own twist. Homegirl is like the Jim Nantz of pop/country in that way.

7) Direct Hit! - “Welcome To Heaven”

This song makes me want to die to, you know, check. Blustering chorus, fascinating premise, and charged up while simultaneously patient/in control.

6) FIDLAR f/ The 90s - “Are You High?”

This not being on Spotify was one of the worst non-Michigan football things to happen to me in 2018. Man, I hate Michigan football.

5) Drake - “Nice For What”

- My favorite beat of 2018 (New Orleans bounce, ftw)

- My favorite release of 2018 - Drizzy said it would drop on a Friday - We were thinking morning or midday (not late evening, in the last remaining hours of the day, when were were faded and had waited so long it was almost forgotten -- it hit perfect) - On top of that, he also sampled Lauryn Hill’s “Ex-Factor” -- the same week Cardi B did the same -- with even more pulsating results - I will always interpret that as a real or sneak diss, yet no one I know has ever said anything

- My buddy Josh sent a selfie vid of him and his girl and some friends bopping to it; I’ll remember that forever; the moment felt like such an event, as if the world simultaneously celebrated at such an atypical time

- Drake deserves 30% less credit for this female empowerment anthem because of the “these hoes” sample

- Maybe a Top 5 Drake song, all-time

- There is no planet, solar system, or multiverse where 2018 Drake finishes ahead of 2018 Pusha T

4) Pusha T - “The Story Of Adidon”

You are hiding a child.

Let’s not mince words: this is the No. 2 greatest diss track of all time. Pac is No. 1 -- this will not be debated. From there, Nas is DQ’d for “Ether” homophobia, annnnnnd no one else is in the realm. King Push...

- Unearthed a photo of Drake in blackface and uses it as the art for the song - Goes at Drake’s mom (”Marriage is something that Sandi never had...”) - Goes at Drake’s dad (”Dennis Graham stay off the 'gram, bitch, I'm on one”) - Outs Drake for having a child (and hiding said child!*) - Goes at Drake’s baby momma - And -- /gulp -- goes at Drake’s longtime producer 40 for having multiple sclerosis, suggesting he will not be alive soon**

He does this over “The Story Of O.J.” beat... a rather chill backdrop, all things considered.

(* - Drake responded later with the line “I wasn’t hiding my kid from the world, I was hiding the world from my kid” which just isn’t cool at all but is competent enough to win some people back over; /barf)

(** - HOLY FUCK***)

(*** - much debate occurred in the aftermath regarding if Push “went too far”; I was 50-50 at the time but now am 100-0 that it was the right choice; this song is cyanide venom, so why pull back even an ounce?)

Though Drake survived -- turns out the mainstream pop boost is bigger than hip-hop beef -- he took the fattest of L’s on this one.

Really can’t decide on a lyrical ending, so I’m gonna go with two:

Surgical summer.

If we all go to hell, it’ll be worth it.

3) Spanish Love Songs - “Buffalo Buffalo”

In my head, this was gonna end up ahead of The Menzingers, but that would be like putting Greta Van Fleet ahead of Zeppelin. Spanish Love Songs were my breakout band of 2018. They released my favorite album, I saw them as an opener at Sub-T in Chicago, and I promised their bassist I’d see them in Florida at the Fest (this did not materialize). While their vocals and guitar leads sound identical to Scranton’s finest, if you listen to them as much as I did, you’ll realize they offer a sound and perspective* of their own as well.

(* - no one hates themselves more than this singer)

2) The Menzingers - “Toy Soldier”

There’s so much to be sad about these days

/that guitar intro

Followed by the best musical moment of this year: from 0:06 to 0:07 -- the ever-so-slight delay before the band blows it out. Spent a lot of time in 2018 debating if I should change my Twitter bio to “I lost my accent in the plague”. Listened to this song on the floor of the living room on my 32nd birthday; then I read “The Great Gatsby”. From there (at this point, it was past midnight), I realized this sounded like The Lawrence Arms’ “Requiem Revisited”, which was inspired by Naked Raygun’s “Soldiers Requiem”. It’s all a triangle of that perfectly fitting punk chord progression. That’s right: I am Pepe Silvia.

1) Horror Squad - “I Smoke The Blood”

Best song title of 2018. Best song of 2018.

This has 729 views on YouTube -- be the 730th.

youtube

Spotify playlist.

Thank you for reading.

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mean-yoongii-blog · 7 years

Text

give vjinseok more love

((((me talking about how underappreciated these three are at 4am, where grammar doesnt exist and spelling is dumb. this is entirely my opinion but im pretty sure almost everyone can agree)))) being an army is hard. like, it's really fucking hard. you get to wake up in the morning and cry over seven men who still get hyped over receiving pokemon stuffies as prizes. that life is hard and it's probably where the rock bottom is, but whatever. being an army is harder when there's inequality going on around the group, screentime wise, line distribution wise, etc. this issue existed since 21 b.c.e and im here to finally speak my fucking mind for it. so bts has seven members, right? jungkook, jimin, jhope, suga, jin, tae, and namjoon. anyway, we all know that jikook are the main and lead vocalists of the group so it's very predictable that they get a lot of attention considering it's unavoidable to give them screentime since, you know, they're technically 50% of whatever the hell we're on about, whether it's about a song's line distribution or an mv's screentime. now, obviously there are the three rappers who dominate everything, be it an mv or whatnot. i mean, jesus, joonie walks in with this hard presence and he's literally gonna start owning the video. thats it. so we get that jikook is well known and very appreciated, right? suga and joon are also automatically given attention becsuse these two are powerful when it comes to rap. now, let's just focus on hoseok, tae and jin. let's start with our angel hobi. now, hope is definitely not underrated. we all know that his stage presence is very powerful. he's never not involved. however, the reason why i didn't group him with his fellow rappers is because, let's be real, jhope is not a rapper. he is not a rapper. he is a person who raps. according to jackson wang—tnx jackson tnx got7 woohoo—there's a complete difference between these two and i think u got it already. jhope is not underappreciated, his skills are. first of all, he came into the idol world with dancing the only skill in hand. we all know that he's never an amateur. he's always been a pro at dancing however when you're in a group u cant just fucking dance. you need to use your lips too and hope here has no experience on that. if bighit made him debut as a part of the vocal line, it could've been better as we all know that hobi has always dreamt of becoming a singer even as a child and his high note on the thot ver of n.o is enough to say that he may not be as good as jungkook but he's gr8 at it too. howeverrrrrrr he's not put as a vocalist. he's placed in the fucking rap line. no, im not saying he's bad as a rapper because he's not (ehem outro wings ehem). but if u place yourself in his shoes back when he became a trainee for most likely dancing and rapping, thats hard shit. hobi has no experience in rapping. but guess what? he fucking killed it. he slays every rap he gets. he spits fire in every cypher there is and yall telling me that he's not good? hell no go home in conclusion, for the fuckers who keep disregarding jung hoseok's abilities, back up because golden hyung can sing, dance and rap and i s2g if you still sleep on him ill choke u next is v. kim taehyung kim **that introduction still kills me every time** now before anything else, tae is not underrated. he's very popular actually. he's popular to armys and to his fellow idols as well. i assume this is because he has gr8 looks and he's very friendly and what a precious child amirite so why did i group him here? becAUSE BIGHIT THATS WHY. now, bighit is not a bad company. in fact it's a great company, really considerate to their boys all. i mean the most we can say is that at least it's not sm bc you feel me? ye anyway, the funny thing is everyone thinks that v is in an ok position because he's pretty and everyone loves him. YES tae is beautiful and YES hes lovable but we need to realize that to be recognized for your looks is ridiculous when they do it while ignoring your talent. taehyung is well known already but people also need to know his skill too. this is almost the same as hobi's story. let's get back to the trainee days in which taehyung literally came from a middle class fam and signed up for bighit without having a clue on what he could do. remember that he was inexperienced when it came to dancing, singing, and obviously rapping (but let's let him live for a little). his pretty face has always been pretty, but u cant debut without offering anything else can you? however, as inexperienced as he was, taehyung has talent. he had potential that is now proven talent. so what i dont really understand is why they didnt give this child the position to be a lead vocalist or even a main vocalist, much more fair distributed lines. the old eras—the hardcore gang bad boy wannabes concept—actually stars v a lot—ehem war of hormone, spine breaker, boy in luv, danger ehem—because they used his hard and deep ass voice. but ever since run era came, bc i believe thats where bts dropped the hard look, he barely got lines. i understand that his voice is different compared to others as the other four vocalists—including jh now bc he finally debuted as a vocal—are tenor whereas v has baritone however they can actually use his deep ass voice in great use. like in let me know—tnx min yoongi for this amazing song—, hold me tight, spring day, house of cards, love is not over and more of their ballads, it's shown how talented kim taehyung is because of his capability. not to mention, stigma proved that his voice can reach great ranges too and that goddamn falsetto stjll gets me everytime i havent even started on how sharp his moves are but i think everyone has gotten over that little issue that he should be a part of the dance line so in conclusion, taehyung is a precious beagle who's very talented and amazing that needs to be more appreciated for what he can do rather than just for his face bc nO lastly, sockjin hahahaha now when i became an army he caught my eye a lot bc of fire and he has an astonishing face. jin is a very beautiful person and just like tae, he's almost friends with everyone however, if someone is underrated, jin is your guy. now lets give this guy some slacks because he came into this world without knowing what he can do, just like v. he came without having no experience in dancing nor singing. he has passion for acting apparently but we'll get to that l8r. anyway what he could only offer is how beautiful he looks. now, first of all. let's all be honest that jin is not the best singer in the group. however he's not bad either. in fact, when i watched their mr removed, he's more stable than jimin and v and to sing with that much stability is impressive enough. i assume that jin doesnt hold on to talent but his potential is so great it's so large and it can actually drive him further. jin is always appreciated for how strong he is as a visual but never for how stable and smooth his voice is and that is absolutely rubbish. remember that he's a person who entered this world without any experience and yet here he is, breaking records on billboards and shit, and you're still sleeping on him? the thing is, bts is popular enough but jin isnt, bts is known but jin isnt and as someone who stans every member, this hurts. bts isnt just rm or jungkook. i have nothing against those two, but i present u kim seokjin here. he's full of potential. he can shine so bright if only there's an actual opportunity waiting for him. the reason why he isnt appreciated is because the company doesnt really give him much chance to show what he can do. yes admittedly he's not the best singer there is but how can someone improve when they dont give him the opportunity to improve? i dont need to give an example on w/c song has barely jin because lbr almost every song has barely jin. in addition, jin is a visual and yet his screentime is so little. i know that i shouldnt give a shit on the visual thing but if this guy isnt recognized for his position in singing, why wont u recognize him as a visual either? i understand that there are a lot of mvs that actually show him a lot—bst, boy in luv, spring day—but do u think this is enough? do u think that this is fair to him? jin is a 25 year old man. he's not naive. although he laughs it off whenever he's being ridiculed, I'm sure that he somewhat feels sad sometimes because of this. understand that this man is not just here for entertainment. understand that we cant only appreciate him for his jokes and awkwardness, that he's not just here to make us happy through the stunts they pull to give comedy. understand that he's not just the mom of this group. understand that he's probably gone through so much training to improve himself and yet get so little in return. understand that there's more to kim seokjin than what meets the eye. jin is not bias nor my bias wrecker but i have this special affection for him that makes me want to protect him at all cost. for the last part, the acting thing. now, im very happy for v for debuting as an actor because he slayed being hansung in hwarang. i will never say that he doesnt deserve that because he does. hes amazing at acting and i hope he get more solo projects since the drama. meanwhile, i look forward to jin having his own drama. i dont think it's necessary for him to have one now but hopefully it happens soon. jin has great potential in acting and considering this is his former dream, im sure that theres still passion for it somehow. in conclusion there is more to jin that we haven't seen because of the lack of opportunity given to him and he deserves so much more recognition to whar he gets now. this doesnt mean that im bias to anyone, okay? i adore each seven members equally. i dont want to raise v and bring down jungkook or raise jin and bring down jimin. no. whatever jikook gets at this moment, they deserve every bit of it. all i want is for them to get equal love. ////end

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