Muse A belongs to a wealthy family that operates in an elite circle, and he’s known since birth that at age eighteen he’ll be engaged to some girl that his parents choose. Muse B is Muse A’s best friend, who comes from more humble origins; they met at boarding school, where Muse B is on scholarship. 

Muse B finds his friend’s “Bachelor Bucket List” that contains a list of things that Muse A wants to do before he must get married and, with only a week before Muse A’s eighteenth birthday, Muse B convinces his friend to try to accomplish everything on the list.

From there, the two go on a crazy adventure that includes camping out all night, regrettable tattoos, night clubs, and anything else that Muse A wants to do before he’s forced into married. How can Muse A go through with the wedding after experiencing a taste of freedom? And how can Muse B let their best friend get married to someone else when they managed to cross the first and most important task off the list together?

“I love everything about her, and I’m not a guy who says that lightly, I’m a guy who has faked love his entire life, I’m a guy who thought love was just something idiots felt, but this woman has a hold on my heart that I could not break if I wanted to. And there have been times when I wanted to. It has been overwhelming and humbling, and even painful at times, but I could not stop loving her any more than I could stop breathing. I’m hopelessly, irretrievably in love with her. More than she knows.”

• The Mother: This show is called "How I Met Your Mother"—but as a tumblr user so wisely observed it may as well have been called “How I Met Your Mother but Then She Died and I Banged Aunt Robin.” Part of what made “How I Met Your Mother” so fascinating was how it played with time, dropping small clues about Ted’s future wife in order to keep the idea of her accessible enough for audiences to continue to want to meet her—to put a face to the name we have heard so much about. The show spends much of its allotted time establishing parallels between Ted and Tracy (the mother). Understandably, to see this phantasm of a woman come to life in season nine was an exciting experience, particularly since her chemistry with Ted was so effortless. It stings that such a multi-faceted and engaging female character has been relegated to the role of a decoy—introduced and teased purely in order to keep viewers in suspense. It stings, too, that the crew chose to quite literally contradict the title of their own show, making nonsense and mush out of its once-consistent story structure and leaving us guessing (much like Ted’s son and daughter) at what the point of all of this was in the first place. But what, perhaps, hurts most of all is how disrespectful this is to the mother—that she should be introduced after eight years of fanfare, then killed and ushered offscreen without so much as a fond farewell, let alone a moment of mourning. The narrative disposes of her completely indifferently, intent on reviving a pairing that most fans would hazard had died years ago. 
• Lily and Marshall: Nothing in particular happens to Marshall and Lily in this episode—and while that may seem something to be grateful for (given that every other character was royally screwed over) it’s worth noting for the fact that nothing in particular happens to Marshall and Lily in this episode. They have a baby, but we don’t know its name or even see it. Marshall becomes a judge, but we don’t see him at work anymore than we see Lily’s year in Rome. Within this episode, they exist only as complements to the stories of the other characters, reacting to ongoing events but not existing much beyond that. 
• Barney: In a single hour, years of character development evaporate, and we are left with the Barney of season one—a crude, callow, unattached man, compensating for his insecurities by preying on significantly younger women; he even revives the awful playbook, despite the fact that his decision to make “The Robin” his last play of all time was an enormous step forward for Barney as a character. In a matter of minutes, gone are the many painful self-realizations, the gradual unraveling of years of poor behavior; gone is the man who slept with two hundred women and realized, afterward, that he felt emptier than ever before—that he had grown past such antics, that he had grown as a human being. Realizing this hole in the plot’s fabric, the writers seek to set Barney back on the right path…by having him knock up a complete stranger (one whose face is never cast, and who does not appear in this finale whatsoever) and bond with their child instantly; the baby is never seen again after this, and referenced only vaguely, but evidently this settles the fact that Barney is once again developmentally where he should be—that years worth of development have crumbled and been pieced back together in the blink of an eye. 
• Robin:The slight on Robin by this show is so awful and so unnecessary that it burns even to talk about it. Robin is a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it—a woman who has spent nine years fighting to reach the very top of her field with the support of both her own determination and the support and love of her friends. For nine years, Robin has graced this television screen as a unique and refreshing female character—a female character who excels at her job but is not only her job; a female character who achieves and achieves and continues to achieve, but also manages to create bonds with others, and to exist three-dimensionally. Robin Scherbatsky climbed the ladder to success over the course of nearly a decade—but the finale has decided that she does not deserve to be proud of her work and how far she has come. Instead, she becomes cold and distant; the work that she once loved consumes her, and it makes her miserable when it never did before. She shuts out her friends, her family, and eventually her husband—and she is left, alone and empty, waiting for Ted to sweep in on his white horse and rescue her from the destruction that all of her backbreaking dedication has caused. 

Getting by with a house elf has always been easy for the Smythe family. They were rich enough to afford it, and it was better than hiring a nanny to watch Sebastian everyday.

As the boy grew older, though, he found that his lifelong babysitter was becoming more and more of a nuisance.

Above all, Dobby was becoming a major cockblock.