#{MEMES}「Hell Frozen Over」

[gelidemperor]

Tag Dump

[darnell-la]

Can you do a follow up with the project x!wolverine x government employee!reader (it can be smut or not I just really like that story)

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)

pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader

warnings: tied up, trapped, sniffing, hunting down, roughly fucked against a tree, pinned, choking, “dragged” through the woods, fucked on the patio, ass slapping, hair pulling, etc.

note: we will be making a part three where they contact Charles's school for mutants to warn them about the government, but the government hacked into their call and found out where Logan was hiding out and keeping y/n.

Logan will be more sweet in the next one as y/n grows out of the fear of him.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

when y/n woke up, she was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. It took her a while to realize, she was in a basement full of big freezers and sinks. For a second, she thought she was going to be cut up and frozen to feed to whoever until she saw a man sitting on the stairs, leading upstairs.

“W-Where am I?” Y/n said, voice coming out lower than she expected it to. “Home,” the man spoke before getting up. He came out of the light, now shaking off the figure.

He was shirtless, yet had jeans on. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know why. Was it because Project X had her tried up in god knows where, or was it the fact she could see all of his chest?

He was sweaty, hairy, ripped, muscles flexed every once in a while, veins popping from his skin and smooth.

“It’s passed midnight, but I bet you’re hungry. Went to the store then cooked us up some food,” he spoke as her eyes traveled all over his body. She felt like she was in a trance.

“Up here, princess,” his voice was closer. She didn’t notice how close he was until his fingers lifted her chin. Even though her feet were a few inches from the ground, he was still towering over her.

“You hungry?” He asked with a head tilt. “Let me go,” she spoke, not knowing what else to say. “No,” he spoke back, voice sounding stern. She could hear the seriousness behind his tone.

“And if you try runnin’ you’ll regret it,” he said, body now touching hers. Y/n quickly went to kick him right between his legs, but he knew what was coming. He surprised her by pulling her leg to the side of his waist. She went to use the other, but he did the exact same thing.

“Relax, princess,” the man smirked down at her as she tried wiggling away, but doing so made her cunt rub up and down his clothes length. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but he felt the wet spot soaking into his jeans.

“If you act good, I’ll fix that for you,” the man whispered in her ear, pulling her body closer to his. Y/n held bad the whine she almost let out. What was he doing to her?

Logan eventually pulled back and walked to the corner of the room to lower her rope. He then walked back over to the girl as she looked down, not knowing what to say or do to the man.

He wasn’t giving off any type of serial killer vibes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to do any kind of killing. A part of her felt saved than she’d ever had, especially because of her job, but she felt off just letting this man win what he wanted. And that was her.

After y/n’s hands dropped from the ropes, she lifted her knees and connected with his groin. The man fell to the ground in pain as she pushed past him, running up the stairs.

The slightly frightened girl ran towards the front door, thinking she was free until she noticed a device on the lock that needed a code. “Fuckin’ hell,” she shouted before running around the rest of the house to find another way.

“You ain’t gettin’ outta here, bub!” Logan yelled from downstairs, finally getting up from the ground. You would think a mutant like him wouldn’t feel that pain, but he did.

Y/n panicked, thinking she was doomed until she had an idea. A stupid one which she slightly felt bad for doing but she did it anyway.

“Son of a bitch!” Logan finally made it up the stairs to the sound of glass breaking. She was out and running for her life, knowing he’d be furious about his genitals and glass.

Y/n ran as fast as she could through the woods, a bit terrified of the dark and animal noises, but the real animal was back at that house. He is an animal, right? That’s what they said he was.

Y/n had stopped after a few minutes to catch her breath. He’s never been the kind to run.

As she rested, she looked down at her feet, swing scratches and blood, but she’d get over it. She needed to get away.

As the young woman went to take a step to continue, she heard a noise behind her. She quickly looked back but saw nothing. Maybe it was a squirrel or something, she thought.

Y/n turned back around to start walking until he saw the view of an angry Logan in her face. “Where ya goin, bub?” He asked. Y/n instantly screamed at his presence.

Before she could move, the man tangled her to the ground, pushing his hand down the middle of her back to pin her into the dirt.

“No!” Y/n fought in anger, thinking she was actually going to escape. “When I said no, you ain’t listen, now didn’t you?” The man said through his teeth as he forced her to dress up.

“Logan, please! N-Not out here, not out here!” She begged, thinking people would be able to hear this scene going on and go and check, just to see her getting drilled into the ground.

“No one’s out here, princess. Not for another mile or so — You’re all mine out here,” the evil low laugh he let out as he pulled his jeans down was insane. He hadn’t even pulled himself out of his boxers. He wanted to take his time with her out here.

Y/n tried kicking her legs, but what was the point? He could smell her leaking down her folds. He knew she wanted this, and he was going to make her understand.

“I said, no!” Y/n shouted as she swung her elbow back as hard as she could, making him fall back. Y/n crawled away, but only a few inches to look back at him. The fear that grew inside of her was unbelievable.

Logan‘s jaw was dislocated. She popped his jaw.

Y/n’s words got stuck in her throat. She wanted to apologize as the man slowly looked up. He didn’t mean to hurt him. She’s not like that.

Before she could open her mouth, Logan popped his jaw back in place with his hand before moving it around to make sure it was normal.

“You fucked up, bub,” the man said before crawling towards her. It didn’t even look like a crawl. How did he do that? Logan lifted the girl up by her neck and pinned her to the closest tree.

“Ow!” She cried out, feeling the tree bark scratched her ass through her thin and silky nightgown. God, she needed to change soon.

“Logan, ow!” She hoped he’d have sympathy for her, but the way his eyes looked, he was far from it. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that’s what he was doing.

“N-No, no!” She pushed at the man’s hand, but that did nothing. He ripped her nightgown off like a strand of hair. “Logan!” She shouted, feeling the breeze on her body until his body rubbed against hers.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Logan growled as he pulled himself out of his jeans. “I don’t like that,” he had as he shifted up and between y/n’s legs until they were lifted off of the ground. Her toes barely touched the dirt.

“I-I can't, Logan,” y/n remembered how he fucked her the last time, and he wasn’t even angry at her. Logan let out a chuckle that he soon cut off after he slammed up into her cunt.

Y/n cried loudly as her arms gripped his shoulders. Logan stared directly at her, his face seemed too serious to look at. He was angry. Very angry. But why? It’s not like the pop in his jaw hurt like any other thing her went through?

“P-Please,” she choked as he pushed her neck into the tree harder, just to get a reaction out of her. “Shut the fuck up,” the man said like the tree wasn’t about to break or come out of the ground from how hard he was pounding into her.

“I can’t,” she whined in pain, but too much pleasure to not tighten around him. The way she squeezed him, egged him on further.

“Oh, you can’t? Does it look like a give a fuck? Huh!? Does it!?” He spat as his pelvis roughly slapped against her clit. She couldn’t think straight. This man was fucking her like some wild animal in the woods. She’s literally being fucked by an animal in the woods.

“F-Fuuuck,” y/n dragged with a broken moan. Logan let her neck go and used both of his hands to grip and hold onto her legs, keeping her up and against the tree, not caring how much she scratched at his shoulders and chest.

The man growled in her ear, cock slipping in and out of her entrance as her asshole puckered. He was huge and slagging around like he wasn’t.

Y/n couldn’t say, but her broken cry warned him she was cumming, and when she did, it was hard. “Goddamnit — Fuck,” the man grunted, pinning his feet to the ground to keep up his hard abuse.

“So fuckin’ good — Fuck!” The man couldn’t keep himself together as his nails dug, into her thighs. Y/n was now crying, not because she was scared, but because of the overstimulation followed by a thrust that wouldn’t slow down.

“Yeah? Yeah, is that the spot, baby?” He asked, knowing it was. “Think this is over just because you came? Think ima stop because you’re drunk on my cock? How did that go last time?”

The girl shook her head, half ass answering his questions. “So cute,” the man chuckled before pulling y/n off of the treat and throwing her over his shoulder to give her a small break.

He wanted his fresh meet alive and functioning when he fucked filled her up. Last time he didn’t get that chase, but he swore to god he would this time.

Because she ran so far, he had to walk it, giving y/n some time to come to life. “Lo-“ y/n cut herself off, still having trouble speaking, but held herself well enough for him to understand.

“No more,” she begged, but he wasn’t having it. “Please, no more,” she begged again as she noticed him passing his car parked several feet from his cabin.

“Logan!” She shouted, now kicking and screaming again. The man grew angry but wanted to take her to the bedroom for what he was about to lay on her.

“Logan!” She shouted, gripping onto the side of his house which was a long wooded stand. “Y/n, stop it!” He let her down with a shout as he began pulling her, but she wouldn’t budge and he didn’t want to accidentally rip her arms off.

“No!” She screamed before he finally pulled her off, causing her to fall on the front steps in front of his house. The way she fell and landed on her hands and knees made him say, fuck it.

“You wanna be fucked like an animal? Fine,” he said as he came up behind her, pulling his cock back out before plunging into her, earning a scream that made him know he hit the right spot instantly.

Logan grew an evil smile across his face as he tugged on her hair, making her arch her back before slapping at her ass, causing her to bruise lightly.

“Little sluts get treated like slut, y/n. You could’ve be fucked nice and sweet on the bed earlier, but no — You wanna run,”

Y/n’s mouth slacked as her eyes crossed from how hard the man was pounding on her. “You see that, bub? Look right up there, right into that camera,” he forced her to look at his security.

“Gonna tie you down and make you watch how dumb you look on my dick,” the man spat, making y/n feel the burn in her eyes, but not from embarrassment. From too much pleasure.

“Yeah — Yeah,” the man repeatedly groaned as y/n squeezed him with a shake in her body. “So fuckin’ pathetic, I might have to give you back,” Logan said, knowing he’d never do such a thing. “Nah,” he added drill in her head that she ain’t goin’ nowhere.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...

[yapileon]

@TacklersCulers: The Chaotic Teen Serie pt. 3

fcb femení x chaoticteen!reader pt. 1 — pt. 2 2670w, it's kinda angsty, be warned<3 r gets nicknamed: "Diablilla" aka little devil in spanish as an endearment term "Skrulla" aka goofball/silly in norwegian for a mischievous child

17yo La Masia defender gets promoted to the first team. Will you be able to keep your fcb femení fan account hidden while slowly making your place in the team with your idols?

You lean your head back against the metal locker, a smug smirk tugging at your lips. Your eyes meet Pina's and you can't help but choke back a snort. 

You had called the forward in the morning, asking her to come pick you up since you wouldn't be able to walk to training like you had done for the past years. 

"You owe it to me after that whole mess you started about my phone wallpaper yesterday," you huffed. While you weren't actually mad at Pina, you were sure as hell going to milk every favor you could out of her. 

"Sure," she agreed without even needing a reason. This team was a family. If you needed a ride and she could help you out, she would do it, no questions asked. 

“Do you have space in the trunk for…” you trailed off, unsure if you could trust her now. If she said no, then your plan would fail.

“Sí, Diablilla, now tell me the plan,” you could hear her chuckle through the phone like she had read your thoughts. And just like that, you became partners in crime.

The both of you arrived at the training centre giggling like children, clutching at each other's arms from how much you were laughing. You had underestimated how mischievous Pina could be for a good joke. Coming up with an ever better plan than the original, you both go straight to work. 

The locker room is slowly filling, everyone realizing what you had done, most people figuring out Pina was in on it too with the glances you kept exchanging. Hushed whispers were heard around the room, everyone waiting for Mapi to come in. Pina had a phone propped up to capture it all.

You were doom scrolling your fan account, posting some more memes when the door opened again. You knew she had to arrive soon, almost everyone else was here already. 

Silence. 

You looked up to see Mapi walking in, smiling and in a good mood like usual, with Ingrid trailing behind. You bite your jersey to hide a smile you can’t camouflage. 

Mapi stood frozen, looking at her locker. Something was occupying her chair. The cardboard cutout of her doing her lion pose you owned. Fake Mapi was flexing and showing her teeth like an animal ready to fight. She burst out laughing, wheezing and letting herself fall on a chair. 

It was the cue for the whole team to explode. Pina’s voice shot up, barely hearable over the laughing. “Say hi for Instagram, Mapi!” she was moving around so much you were sure the video wouldn’t even be good.

Alexia had been standing on the side of the room, an eyebrow raised, “Of course it’s you two.” she spoke, shaking her head disapprovingly. But even serious Alexia couldn’t hold back a smile. 

“I gotta admit kid, I didn’t think you’d actually bring it,” the centre back wheezed, wiping tears away from her eyes. 

The joyful energy was only made more electric by Ingrid, who leaned into the joke. Ingrid looked alternatively between Mapi sitting on the chair and the cardboard. She posed, mimicking being deep in thoughts. 

"Mmh, which one is my girlfriend?" she had said, grinning. 

“Pina! Get this on the video!” you shouted, gesturing to whatever was about to happen, the woman happily nodded. 

She slid down next to the cardboard, throwing her arm around the fake Mapi "This one!" she exclaimed, sending everyone toppling over.

Mapi gave her a shocked look, still laughing. "Oh I see how it goes, everyone prefers that pale copy now" she feigned annoyance. Ingrid kissed the cheek of the cardboard while Mapi pouted, voice shaky as she added, “what does she have that I don’t?”

“This one doesn’t argue when I’m right.” Ingrid answered, the Norwegian might have become your favourite person in the world right now. The look on the Spaniard’s face was priceless, you could have rolled on the floor.

"El León stole the spotlight!" it was Jana who had chimed in. She was next to Pina and Patri, all three of them waving for you to get closer. You jumped to their side, hovering over Jana’s shoulder to look at the phone. 

They had posted the video seconds ago on the main Barcelona account and it was already shaking up the internet. As the team calmed down and finished getting ready, thousands of comments popped up, requesting more videos. So the four of you obliged. 

You posed Mapi and the cutout next to each other taking a picture and doing a poll in the story, which read “Which is the better Mapi?” You knew social media, you knew how to bring in numbers. 

Jana and Patri took the fake Mapi to the field while Pina and you ran to get some footballs. Both of you laughed when the cardboard had deflected a shot, still careful to keep it intact as you wanted to bring it back home safely. You all screamed “AND SHE DOES IT AGAIN, SAVING THE DAY!” zooming on it and then on Mapi, who watched with the biggest smile on her face. Mapi grabbed the phone to take selfies with the cutout. Everything was posted on the account, this would be the first thing fans ever got to see from you, and you weren’t disappointed. This was a masterpiece of an introduction to the world. 

In this moment, the bond that you had with this team felt invincible. Feeling more alive than you ever had previously. For some minutes, before Pina had arrived to pick you up, you had doubted. Maybe they wouldn’t find it funny, maybe it would make them realize how childish you really were. But even the older, more mature players had laughed at your banter. Pina had treated you like a little sister, Mapi and Ingrid played along. There was a warmth in their teasing that made you feel at home. 

So much so that you didn’t even try to argue with Alexia when she clapped, asking for everyone’s attention. “Everybody calm down, training now, chaos later.” she said firmly. 

When she saw you grinning, she approached, “Yes even you, Diablilla” she joked, ruffling your hair. “Show us what you can do, besides being a trickster.”

So you hopped off, starting to stretch, warming up your muscles. This left you some time to reflect on the whole situation. You inhaled deeply. The first training session that you had had with the team had gone well, but you were aware it was a chill one, to ease you in the team. Pere had warned you today would be “intense”, as he had said exactly. You felt ready for what they were about to throw at you. You could feel yourself getting more focused, though you were still up for a good joke if the opportunity was there. The team was currently doing sprints to activate their body before doing drills and scrimmages. 

Caro groaned after the last set, “Why do we even do this?” She was clutching her sides, trying to find her breath again.

‘So we can outrun the refs when they try to card us.” you mumbled, sprints weren’t your favorite exercise either. 

Except it seemed you did not say this as low as you intended. You looked up to see most of the team staring at you. Most veterans seemed shocked, the younger players not so much. In the corner of your eyes you could see Jana and Salma holding in a chuckle. 

“What?” you remarked, in disbelief, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Alright, it’s true that it wasn’t very smart of you to admit you were prone to getting cards so much you had to learn how to run away from the refs. 

“Dios mío!” Alexia exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead, “Irene! You’re going to teach Cariño how to behave, sí?” she added with a sigh. 

“Not fair! Why is Caro even complaining,” you were interrupted by Irene trying to drag you away, but you persisted, “like she didn’t run at 32 km/h during the 2023 world cup?” you grumbled. 

Caro raised an eyebrow, looking at you with a proud expression. “You’re a fan now? I thought you only liked defenders.” she replied, voice full of playfulness. 

“I keep myself updated on statistics.” you attempted to say, trailing off knowing the team would, once again, never let you live that down. 

Salma came up next to you, “So you know statistics on everyone here?” she smirked, barking out a laugh when your eyes widened in horror. 

“Sorry! Can’t hear you I’m too far away getting ready for the drills,” you walked off with Irene, miming not being able to hear. 

“This isn’t over Diablilla!” screamed Vicky, “we’ll get all your fangirl secrets out of you later.” 

Oh, Vicky, if only you knew. 

As you made your way next to the other defenders, you let out a breath. Determination taking over your cheeky eyes, you touched the tip of both of your boots with your fingers. The last of your rituals, this meant the game was on. 

You threw yourself in all the tasks the coach had you do. While your inexperience showed on certain drills, your will to do well still pleased the team. In some ways, having spent so many years studying everything about that team helped you on the pitch. You could guess where Alexia would try to do a backward pass, or where Aitana’s ball control might be more problematic to intercept. You tried your best to mirror Mapi, bending your knee lows, trying to push attackers on the side you wanted. An interception you made earned you a wide grin from Mapi while Ingrid had her thumbs up toward the sky to congratulate you. A shy smile creeped on your lips.

You were putting up a solid fight, having done a few successful tackles during a particularly difficult scrimmage. Maybe it’s how you ended up messing up so bad. The confidence rushed through you when you decided to slide tackle Caro. She was doing a solo run, and you were feeling mixed, split between not wanting to lose if she scored an equalizer and wanting praises from your teammates. It was childish, really. Almost shameful. You weren’t here to be praised, you were here to work. But she was running, and you were shoulder to shoulder with her. It felt like the right timing, so you slid. The adrenaline rush was so strong that you didn’t use your brain enough. You knew she was a master at feints, but still for a second you thought you had it. 

You sensed the wet grass brushing against your skin, until the grass was replaced with a training cone you collided with. You froze, your whole body burning, watching in horror as Caro continued her run, chipping the ball over Cata, making her team come up to 2-2. And that was your fault, if you had accessed the situation for longer, you wouldn’t have dived head first into an unnecessary tackle.

Ingrid jogged over to you, “You alright, Skrulla?” reaching her hands to help you stand up. If your ears weren’t ringing so bad from the shame and confusion, you would have asked the Norwegian what it meant. 

You shrugged, wiping the grass from your shorts in embarrassment. 

You knew you didn’t do a good job hiding it when the green eyed woman added, “At least it wasn’t my back this time?” She was smiling brightly at you, so you forced out a laugh, the emotions stuck in your throat. 

You shook your head, going back into position. Any positive feeling from your earlier exploit long gone. You tried to brush it off, but you were so frustrated with yourself and still had half the session to go through. So you pushed yourself more, hoping to erase the bad memory. 

It didn’t work though. By the time training finished, you were exhausted. Letting yourself flop on the ground, you clutched at your chest in pain. Little by little your abilities on the pitch had faded away, each pass connecting less and less, your timing getting worse. Everyone could see it, and some of your teammates gave you questioning looks. You couldn’t deal with the attention on you, so you jumped up and made a beeline for the lockers. 

You showered quicker than you thought possible, but by the time you were done, multiples of your teammates were around you. The buzzing of the room annoyed you more than it ever had previously. 

You look up to see Ingrid and Mapi whispering, throwing glances at you. So, like the child you are, you grabbed your cardboard cutout and fled. Waving off a very confused Pina who thought she’d drive you back home. 

As you walk, you can’t help but feel increasingly stupid. You know you shouldn't be nearly as bothered with that tackle as you currently were. It was so stupid. But it was so badly timed and you were ashamed about it. Sure your teammates were nice to you, and you all laughed together, but with that awful move you had just pulled? There was no way they'd ever trust you on the field. How could they trust you if you couldn't even slide tackle an opponent? Why would Pere give you any minutes if you messed up so bad when there was no pressure on you. 

By the time you reached your dorm, you could feel tears rolling down your cheeks. You quickly wiped them with your sleeve, throwing yourself on your bed.  

That was the down side of your brain. The obsession over football, that one singular process who made you apart from other players but was also your downfall. The way you’d obsess over every single one of your flaws, needing to perfect them all. Needing to have as much information on players. You’d drive yourself crazy and sleep deprived watching footage until the birds would sing outside, signaling you it was early morning. It wasn’t healthy. But it was all you knew.

You had grown up with coaches who had screamed at you that the difference between an amateur and a pro was when they stopped their drills. An amateur does it right once and stops, a pro keeps going until they can’t get it wrong. So you just kept pushing. In some way, you hoped your brain would ease off having finally made the first team. It hadn’t.

You rolled over, looking at the fake Mapi, still deep in thoughts. Your eye caught sight of a black mark on it, making you jump in a hurry. Had you damaged it while walking back home? Or when Pina and you were using it for shooting practice? Frowning, you leaned closer trying to figure out what had happened. 

You gasped when you saw it.

You have the potential to be one of the greatest.

— Mapi 

You let the tip of your fingers brush over the writing. Your idol hadn’t only signed the cardboard without you even asking, she had written this. You felt a tug at your heartstring, and promised yourself to thank her profusely tomorrow. 

For now, the only thing you could do was calm down. You inhaled deeply, feeling the rise of your ribcage, and exhaled softly, trying to release any tensions in your body. Maybe it was fine, maybe nobody would be mad at you, maybe you’d be able to fix it during the next training. 

You needed a distraction, so you pulled out your phone to check the latest post from your fan account.

TacklerCulers

tacklerculers: Did you know? Attackers that trip in front of Mapi León are actually just nervous to be close to her.

barcafan11: @TacklersCulers Are you going to talk about the new signing we saw on the official barça page today?

alex1aa: I’m really disappointed, Barça does not need a clown.

b0nmat12: I hope she’s just a social media person and not a player, otherwise we’re doomed for the Champions League.

Your stomach twisted when you saw the comments. You threw the phone at the wall and buried yourself into the blanket on your bed. The weight of failure still crushing your chest.

pt. 4

[nurglegrognard]

Ok, lets talk crazy 40k weapons; leave your basic 1960's era gyrojet firing boltgun in the bin where it belongs. Trash tier firearm that shoots explosive bullets; PFFFT! We have that tech NOW.

If you want to get serious about crazy 40k tech, you gotta dig deeper...

Starting out not too deep; the humble plasma gun - is not so humble at all! This thing literally fires minature suns!

A weaponised microwave oven; it literally cooks the target from the inside out within a split second.

Oh yeah, a laser sniper rifle! Oh wait, what? The laser is just to penetrate the target's armour? Then the gun shoots a frozen needle of toxins through that hole? Dafuq!

Yeah yeah, Eldar weapons are nerf disc launchers, chuckle guffaw ha ha. That meme is lame; especially considering a Shuriken weapon actually fires razor blades. But they also fire "hypodermic stars" filled with chemicals that turn living tissue into volatile explosives - no wonder Harlequin Death Jesters are not much fun at all to be around.

Tyranid guns; yeah, they could have said "they all shoot acid" and called it a day. That wouldn't be 40k though, would it. Imagine getting shot by this thing and you're hit in the face with a Cave Weta the size of your hand that starts chewing a hole in you.

More devilry from the Eldar; this time we have helmet guns that spray metallic needles at you; then a split second later, it shoots a laser through the needles, flash-igniting those needles into plasma! Striking Scorpions out here trying to barbecue your head.

And now for arguably the most batshit insane thing ever created by mankind in the 40k universe. The Vortex Grenade; it's heavy and you have to throw it by hand. Not only that but when it explodes it creates a hole in reality and anything the hole touches goes to the Warp... i.e. literally to hell.

Tyranids back at it with more fleshy firearms; this one actually does fire acid... of a sort. Imagine getting hit in the chest by a lobster tail with cream sauce... that splats all over you and your friends and dissolves steel.

All these nightmare guns and grenades, you're going to need protection. How about a force field? But what kind? 40k has the typical bubble of energy that repels projectiles (it's called a Power Field but it's over the page), but it's big, and heavy and besides, why bother with that when you can carry around a miniature warp drive that teleports you out of harms way?

And now we come to the most extra of all extra 40k Wargear. The humble Harlequin's Kiss... ... ... yeah nah, you can stick your Chainsword where the sun don't shine; losing a limb or a head aint as scary as being stabbed and then having your insides instantly minced. You'd have just enough time to vomit up the Bolognese sauce that was your heart, lungs, intestines and liver before you expire, messily all over the floor. All while the murder-clown who attacked you laughed in your face.

[lurochar]

A Snow Day in Hell

Heeey, anyone else remember that ‘special feeling’ meme from years ago? No? Me either

–----------------------------------------------

Hell had frozen over.

Literally.

It was an extraordinarily and incredibly rare occurrence, according to Charlie, who, a literal native demon born of Hell, had only seen it snow once before in her lifetime.

It generally occurred once every few hundred years, perhaps add or minus a century here or there, Lucifer could not be bothered to keep track when Charlie had asked him how often it actually happened since the snow only stuck around for a day at the very most and was just a minor inconvenience.

You were honestly excited to witness such a unique experience and were dismayed to find that Alastor could care less about such a thing.

And so, you had to pester him and even promised him a favour (his proceeding and chilling smile sent immediate shivers down your spine) just to take a stroll with you around town (and would probably regret when he came to collect that favour).

“Of course, Darling! I have no important tasks to complete today. Why, I would be ever so honoured to escort you to town on such a… lovely day.”

You gave Alastor a skeptical look when he glanced outside with an expression that screamed the opposite of what he was saying.

He clearly hated snow.

“But, seeing my partner beg me in such a pitiful manner – well, how can I possibly say no to that?”

Maybe you should have just asked Charlie? She seemed just as excited as you to see the snowfall.

It took quite a bit of self control for Alastor to not let out a dark chuckle at your varying expressions. You may be his companion, but he was still a sadist through and through. 

Maybe it was a bit soft when it came to you though. Just a little bit.

Besides, as irritating and cold as it was, a little snow, that would literally only last for a day, would never hurt anyone, right?

~00~

“It’ll be on any minute now!”

You covered your face with a pillow in pure embarrassment, unable to look at the screen of the TV as Charlie bounced in excitement. 

How did she find out? 

Ah damn, she already gathered the others to watch.

“W-why are you here?” You barely lifted your face enough to eye Alastor, seeing him sitting smugly in his usual chair. “It was you, wasn’t it?! You told Charlie, didn’t you!?”

“Well, of course I did!” Alastor’s grin was utterly demonic and he was obviously taking pleasure in your mortification. “Normally, I am completely against these awful picture box shows and was utterly baffled when you agreed to a… television interview, Darling, with me when you are completely aware of my distaste.”

“Uh, wait,” Angel Dust raised his arm, “you’re on TV, Smiles? How did they capture you on camera? How’d you not, ya know, blow up the whole network with that whole staticky thing you do? Why is Vox even letting this air?”

Everyone glanced over to Alastor, but he answered nothing.

You had no idea either.

“Oh, it’s on!” Charlie pointed with a wide grin and you slumped over, ready to just pack your bags and leave to save yourself the embarrassment.

On the TV, the scene was that of you and a tall figure that was distorted, blurry, and pixelated, yet was clearly Alastor from shape and colour alone. Honestly, you were surprised he was showing up even this much and not blowing out the camera like Angel Dust had pointed out.

It was a simple question, you were only stopped by the news reporter to ask what you thought of the unprecedented snowfall.

You had just been caught up in the moment, the idea of experiencing the whole once-in-a-lifetime thing with your partner.

So you had replied with something straight out of a Christmas romcom movie or something equally as cheesy. You really had no idea where it came from. Maybe the fact that Alastor had summoned an umbrella and was holding it over both of your heads?

It was mainly so he wouldn’t get snow in his ears, you would find out later.

“Isn’t this just amazing? Snow that falls only every few hundred years? It’s stunning, isn’t it?” Your face was beginning to turn red as you continued on without waiting for another question from the reporter. “Being in the snow with my lover like this immerses me in a special feeling. I love it.”

Oh fuck.

How the fuck could you say that with a straight face!?

It was clear that Alastor felt the shame for you, even through his blurry distorted figure, you could see his ears flatten against his head and his head completely turn away from the reporter like he wasn’t there to hear your cringey words.

“Oh my Satan, are you fucking serious?” The news reporter sneered at you. “I just asked you about some fucking frozen water. Not your version of a romantic date you’ll have in your shitty wet dreams.”

You blinked and the distorted Alastor slowly turned his head back towards the reporter.

“This is fucking Hell, not some Barbieland bulls–”

You couldn’t help it and a few of your more demonic features were showing before you could stop them and you grabbed the umbrella Alastor was still holding. “You asked me a question about snow and I answered and then you make fun of me for that!? So what if I want a romantic outing with my lover!?” You shoved the umbrella’s pole into the gut of the reporter and growl into the camera, hearing the cameraman cry out before it cuts out and the interview is over.

.

.

.

There was complete silence.

“W-well, maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.” You scratch your cheek, “J-just forget what I sa–”

“Oh, that was so romantic!” Charlie’s eyes were wide and sparkly, “I never knew snow could make you feel that way.” She gasped loudly, looking at Vaggie. “There’s still time! Come on, Vaggie! We need to go out in the snow to ‘immerse ourselves’ in that special feeling!”

Vaggie just throws you a grumpy look before sighing and following after Charlie.

Angel Dust is laughing his ass off, “Special feeling? Seriously, Dollface? Did that cold freeze your brain cells or somethin’? Well, at least ya showed that dick reporter who’s boss. Smiles, over there, did nothin’.”

“I don’t need him to do everything for me.” You muttered, glancing over at Husk and, for once, glad to see he’s too drunk to care and Niffty had lost interest as soon as she saw a cockroach. 

You looked over to Alastor.

“Are you satisfied?” You asked with a sigh, “Watching me embarrass myself and then lose control on the news that’s aired all around Hell?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Very much so, Darling. Not only have you provided me with great entertainment, but now you have also given me an excuse to go after the one who aired your follies. I do believe I should give my ‘old pal’ a visit quite soon.”

Yeah.

You really should have just asked Charlie earlier.

[andre-and-cal]

hiii!! this might be a stupid question, but do you have any headcanons on how andre + cal would act online? like would they have their own webpages, and how they would chat and stuff like that :p

also, i love your writing so much <3

Hii!! :3 That’s not a stupid question at all !! And TYSMM IM SO GLAD :D <33 These were fun to make, I hope you like these!

Andre and Cal Online Headcanons,,

Andre’s username on his favorite social/chatting websites is @ak47_0717, while Cal’s is @gunslinger83. The reasoning behind their usernames, first of all, is that Andre’s initials are AK. Because of his unsettling interest in firearms, he’s bound to be interested in one of the most popular guns in the world— the AK-47. He likes having his initials similar to the “AK” in AK-47. The four numbers at the end of his username are his birthday. Cal’s username is pretty self-explanatory; he calls himself a gunslinger, and the ‘83’ at the end of his username is the year he was born.

Andre and Cal talk to each other on AOL, which was one of the most popular online services for internet users at the time. They also chat on MSN Messenger, and they used to communicate on ISQ, which was more popular in their middle school years and early high school years— the late 90s.

With Blogger having been established in 1999, Andre and Calvin created accounts. They follow gun blogs and blogs dedicated to books, movies, and bands they like. Also, Andre follows— although he doesn’t really interact with— the Iroquois Track Team and Science Club blog pages. Cal follows the school band’s page. Despite following different blogs, they don’t really post much on Blogger; they like to stay relatively quiet and unnoticed. Andre does leave hate comments on posts from people he doesn’t like. Since anonymity wasn’t as robust as it would come to be in the mid 2000s— the years following Cal and Andre’s deaths— he made an alt account with a fake name for the sole purpose of hating on the Iroquois Wrestling Team blog page… for obvious reasons having to do with Brad Huff. He also leaves hate comments on Rachel’s posts. Cal mentions this mysterious user to Andre sometimes, mentioning how Rachel talks about how this unknown person on the internet criticizes her posts. Andre plays dumb and acts uninterested, yet he listens intently, replying with soft “Mhm”s, as well as a “Damn, that sucks”. He doesn’t want Cal growing suspicious.

They play girls’ flash games both for the hell of it and for the irony. They get relatively entertained from these online dress-up, salon, and cooking games, with Cal being aware these games are aimed at girls. He intentionally makes his character look ugly and goes into hysterical laughter over it— he absolutely laughs at the stupidest shit. However, Andre actually tries and is surprisingly concentrated on the game, face frozen with stoicism and focus. Andre would never admit it, but with his family having a cat, Mel, he finds pet care flash games to be genuinely fun.

Andre and Cal illegally download music and share it with each other by Napster or by email. They’ve sacrificed their computers for the sake of copying a System of a Down song onto their files for free, instead of physically buying the CD. In 1998, when Andre was still a freshman in high school, he ended up getting the CIH virus (Chernobyl virus) which practically wrecked his software and ruined his computer. Whole Calvin teased him for getting such a destructive virus on his computer, he ended up informing his parents. He’d told them that Andre needed a new computer, and he suggested that they pitch in to help Andre’s parents buy him a new computer for his 16th birthday in the summer. Because for the time being, Andre would have to use Cal’s.

Andre and Cal share similar humor in most areas. And since internet memes were beginning to rise in popularity, the two boys send or email each other dark humor memes and chuckle at them.

If they were alive in 2003, they would have used 4chan !!

Andre uses all types of different acronyms when chatting, such as but not limited to “ROFL”, “LOL”, “LMFAO”, “BRB”, “ILY”, “IDK”, and “BTW”. He often capitalizes the first letter of his messages and types faces like “:-)” and “>:(”.

Cal, too, uses many acronyms online. He also types with no capital letters, and he often takes shortcuts when he’s chatting with Andre. He creates little faces with the keys on his keyboard and copies and pastes special symbols online. When he’s typing to Andre first, his first message is usually a simple, “hi” of some sort.

They both play Doom together, considering how 1993 Doom was multiplayer when it first came out.

GeoCities !! Cal and Andre created their own website for the Army of Two. They didn’t necessarily say much on the site, and they didn’t give the site name to anyone they knew. But they still specified who they were and their interests without giving away their last names.

In addition, Andre and Cal used GeoCities to make a screamer site, and they made different alt emails to troll Brad Huff by sending the link to him, without him finding out who they were.

Sometime during the final week before Zero Day, their last few days of being alive, they’d both typed up a short, lovesick letter in their notepads— two messages they’d always wanted to tell each other but never got the chance to. Cal had gone on a tangent about how much he enjoyed being Andre’s comrade, how much he enjoyed Andre being his. Also, he was saying his goodbyes before their final mission and how he loved Andre and hoped he’d see him on the flip side. Whereas Andre was saying how he was looking forward to escaping the school with Cal and how he hoped they’d have a better life together, even while they were wanted from the cops. He mentioned how he loved Cal, too, but with his own phrasing of that declaration. But that ended up being an unrealistic expectation on Andre’s end.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Okay, I've Read Worm: A Retrospective Part 1: How The Fuck Did I Get Here?

I don't know exactly what I'm going to be doing with all these posts, but at a minimum, we will be having the following, not necessarily in this order:

A discussion of some of the parts of Worm I liked most. Some genuine and well-earned praise for Wildbow.

An analysis of Amy Dallon as she exists in Worm, though more for unpacking my own thoughts in one place rather than some deep literary stuff.

A discussion of things I was genuinely surprised by in the Text itself versus the stuff I picked up via fandom osmosis and fanfic. Expectation vs reality and stuff.

A discussion of just who the fuck the target audience of Worm actually probably maybe was, and what the fuck I just read.

And a detailed (for my own unpacking of thoughts than to convince anyone of anything) discussion of why I'm not going to read Ward. Nothing new there, but still, it'll be nice to put it all one one place.

But first, let's take a step back and answer one very important question: How in the bloody fuck did I end up here? How the fuck did reading Worm even happen? Because as I've said before, superhero media isn't my thing, I'm definitely not the target audience for Worm, and while I enjoyed it, only liking it 60% is a barely passing grade, as it were.

So how the blue hell did I end up here?

I don't know exactly when I first became aware of Worm. What I do know is that I was loosely aware of it by 2019, because I was active on SpaceBattles, and of course, Worm is all over there. I'd see the name, and I knew it referred to a work of fiction, but that's about all I knew. It might have been before 2019 that I first heard the name, it might not have. I say by 2019, because I know that sometime in 2019, I was in a discord server associated with one of the many spinoff sites to Spacebattles (I believe it was Frozen in Carbonite, which was honestly a pretty noxious website but I didn't know that going in) and I made a post using this meme:

And I got an answer that was something to the effect of 'It's an edgy villain protagonist superhero story'. And so I shrugged, and I moved on. Not my speed. Superheroes aren't my thing, not really, not in of themselves. I first got into AoS watching it with my then GF back in... 2015? And then I got into shipping Skyeward in it. Then I watched Arrow because some of the people I followed from Skyeward were into it and again, pretty much stayed for the shipping and certain characters. Flash and Legends of Tomorrow and Supergirl were entered into as branching off from Arrow.

And yes I've watched a good chunk of the MCU, but mostly because why not watch a movie and there's a handful of characters I liked. But I've never read a single superhero comic book, as far as I can recall, and I've never really been super into any superhero cartoons, just watched them if they happened to be on Cartoon Network when I was a kid.

At some point between then and this year, I found a Worm CYOA on r/nsfwcyoa, and despite never having read it, gave it a look, played around with it, and picked up random errant facts about the story and characters therein. I would revisit this CYOA and similar ones as they got updates, and along the way got my first exposure to the whole 'fanon' problem of the Worm fandom, when one of the options in one of the CYOAs was to make certain popular fanon true for the version of Earth-Bet 'your character' appeared in for the CYOA. Things like making Woobie Amy true, or turning Vicky into the Collateral Damage Barbie she's cast as by some people, et cetera.

And then, at some point probably late last year or early this year, I think, I was on Questionable Questing (the pervert uncle of Spacebattles, as it were) and I saw a fic get posted that was Worm - so, prepared to ignore it - and then I saw it was also tagged with several of my kinks. And I've read smutfics that aren't for one of my fandoms if I really like the kinks and it's just a smutfic, so I gave it a show. How much do you need to know about the source canon for a smutfic, eh?

I don't remember much about that fic, or even which of my kinks in particular it had, but I would read a few other such stories here and there until sometime in... probably May or so, maybe late April, when I made an errant post on QQ in a thread discussing stories you considered but never actually read, that I had considered Worm (because by then I had, ish, after some of the various go-arounds with the CYOA and picking up bits of osmosis here and there) but that the whole thing sounded too bleak and grimdark and depressing.

This spawned a conversation about Worm, and if it was really grimdark (one person I think went so far as to say it wasn't even depressing or bleak, and oh to live in that person's world) and if it was really a deconstruction or a love letter to superhero media or a takedown of superhero media or w/e. And at some point, someone made a comment about Wildbow having disdain for his fans, or something like that.

And I was like 'I feel like there's a story there'. And yes there was. One of the things that came up were the so-called 'retcons' of Ward re: Amy (whether or not they are actually retcons is beyond the point of this post, please don't discuss it here). And here's the thing, my thought then was: I've been there.

I've been there when characters have been set on, or are seemingly being set up for, some kind of redemption arc, and then some new installment pulls the rug out from under the character in a way that feels very, very deliberately aimed at fans of the character. Grant Ward is the most notable case of this for me. 2015 and 2016 me had quite a few things to say about that. 2024 me lacks the energy or desire to go into detail.

It's not fun, either way. So I sympathized. And I figured that probably meant Amy Dallon would be my sort of character. But I didn't want to read Worm - it sounded depressing, it was 1.6 million words, Taylor didn't sound super appealing and I knew she was the main POV, and superheroes aren't my thing.

But it wouldn't leave my head. So I started poking around on places like r/parahumans (a den of bad takes and noxious fans if there ever was one) and r/WormFanfic and the Parahumans wiki and looked through a few threads on SB and started trawling the Amy Dallon tag here on Tumblr and developed some thoughts.

Amy Dallon, and the injustice of what happened to her in Ward had crawled inside my head and it wasn't going anywhere. I ranted to my friends about all the shit I'd learned and was like 'I HAVEN'T EVEN READ THIS WORK AND I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I WANT TO AND IT JUST WON'T LEAVE MY BRAIN!'. I remember seeing a post saying something about how someone who had read worm couldn't relate to people who hadn't and weren't constantly thinking about Amy and I reblogged it saying 'I haven't even read Worm and I'm constantly thinking about Amy' and I think the OP of the post reblogged my reblog and called me a whole new kind of person or something. I don't remember and don't care to go digging.

The things that held me back the most continued to be the sheer length of Worm, a fear that Taylor would be insufferable and the fact that it still sounded godforsakenly depressing. (2 out of 3 ain't bad, as Meatloaf Says). So eventually I decided to go poking around and read some fic to get the idea if I'd actually read it. I don't remember all the ones I read in this period, but they included: I, Panacea, Desperate Times Call For Desperate Pleasures, Queen of Blood and More Than Meets The Eye. It was around this time I also started getting multiple Worm Fic Ideas, which was... fun. Because you know, it's one thing to read fanfic without knowing the source canon, but I've always loathed in previous fandoms when people say they're writing a fic for a canon they've only read fic from (and was always an immediate X-out for me) and I have too much dignity self-respect as a writer to do that myself.

Now, fic ideas don't mean I have to write them. I have ASOIAF and TVD fic Ideas I'm never going to write, and my notebooks across the ages are littered with fic Ideas I had and then put aside and never wrote. Some still haunt my dreams like Edgar Allen Poe's Telltale Heart. But still.

Eventually, after someone made a comment to me to the effect of 'with all due respect, if you haven't read Worm, shut up about it' I decided to at least make an effort to read it. Spite was my original intent - I wanted to see if my opinion about Amy's storyline in Worm specifically would remain the same (and it broadly has) and if so, I would feel satisfied I'd been right.

(For the record, It did remain the same (pretty much, more on this in a future post) and I do feel satisfied that I was right.)

And so, on June 16th, half on a whim and half because I knew I'd have things to say and I wanted to section them off my main blog, I made this blog and began reading Gestation 1.1. I gave it even odds in my head I'd give up before I was more than a few arcs in.

Wasn't even tempted until Arcs 12 and 13. Then was tempted again in the absolute nadir of the work, 17-19. And then again during the Behemoth fight. Once I got past that, I was never temped.

So that's I got here. Existing adjacent to Worm for years, some osmosis, an ill-timed comment, some snarky responses and a character that burrows into my brain by hitting all of my buttons.

[entwinedmoon]

This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

[desultory-novice]

"Apologies" AU - Masterpost

"Before Popstar, Adeleine lived on 'Shiver Star,' the embittered residents' nickname for the frozen husk of old Earth they were left on after the migration. But she isn't sad, for she has a best friend in her older brother. And he would give up anything to protect her...."

Characters: Adeleine, Noir (loosely based on unused Dark Matter design) / Dark Matter Swordsman, Gooey, King Dedede, others...

-

Note that this "comic" started as a well-received one shot that proceeded to grow into a series. As a result, it's very experimental. Expect random inconsistencies and continual artstyle shifts.

Bolded text are the newest posts

[Apologies AU] -Shiver Star- “Apologies”  “One Sneeze”   (illust) “Summer”   “A Walk in the Snow”   “The Swordsman”  “Wonderful Gift”  (illust) “Damnation”  “Salvation”  “Unstoppable”  “Brightest Star”

-Dream Land 2- “Sibling Reunion” “Big Brother Instincts” “Unsung Hero”  “The Perfect Vessel” “To Protect” “Matter Over Mind” "Darkened Skies" (illust) “Last Will” “Ego”

-Side Stories- "Freeze" "A Cold Hell" "No Friends"

"Honestly, it was all worth it"

"Never Never Land"

-

[Noir Fontaine - Initial Ref Sheet] [Noir Fontaine - Kirby OC Tourney Profile]

-

[Noir's Field Trip]

Please see the above post for links to all Noir content following Dream Land 2. In short, I submitted him to a silly popularity contest and let people ask him questions, many of which served to reveal his backstory and emotional state during various events. It also provides the lead up to Noir's ultimate fate, ie, The Good Ending.

-

[White-Haired Noir] “Dark Matter Painter”  (gift art - how this whole idea started...) "Have You Ever Killed Before?" (reblog sketch - W.Noir is born...) "Why Did You Stop Me...?" (reblog text + sketch - W.Noir in Kirby 64)

“You’re a good knight!” (illust - W.Noir and Ribbon) “The Body Remembers” (illust - W.Noir's scars) "Knight Costume" (sketch - W.Noir and Meta Knight) "My Trauma" (sketch - W.Noir and Meta Knight)

"Like Brother Like Sister" (comic, white-haired Noir origin) "Each From His or Her Own World" (comic, one of various endings)

"Three Challenges Noir Had to Face and One Meta Knight Did" (fanfic - W.Noir and Meta Knight in Planet Robobot) "Cold Air" (fanfic - W.Noir and Meta Knight's first meeting)

"The Little Prince" (illust - Adult W.Noir) "Brighter Skies" (Sketch - Adult W.Noir and Kirby)

[Snowflakes Timeline - cw: body horror + bad end] "I'll Never Leave You" - Script + Sketch "...Zero Three..." - Sketch + Script + Illust "Melted Snow" - Script + Fictional Boss Fight "Null v0.3" - Sketch + Silliness

[Extras - Art (canonincal)] “Ugly Scarf”   (illust - our first look at Noir) "It'll All Make Sense Soon, Right?" (illust - Noir + Adeleine) "You Won't Win..." (illust - Noir's last moments) “Was I A Good Brother...?” (illust + text - storycrafting for Noir) “That’s…Funny…”  (illust - Adeleine's notebook) "Blue Penguin Scarves" (illust - Dedede and Noir's Scarf)

"Happy Birthday!" (sketch - Adeleine and Noir)

[Extras - Art (non-canon)] “Full Regalia” (illust - Dark Matter Blade “Gijinka”)  "No Hands Club" (sketch - incredibly short MariPav Crossover) "Looking Over You" (sketch - Angel Noir he's not dead yet!!) "Hell Branch x Apologies" / 2 / 3 (sketch - unexpected crossover!?!) "Games You Play When..." (sketch - the siblings + Steven meme) "Family Wedding?!" (sketch - the siblings + Raquelle/Rimura) "Adeleine meets Dark Matter Painter" (sketch comic) "Noir meets White-Haired Noir" (sketch comic) "Hell Branch x Apologies Returns!" (sketch comic) (Leads to same post as "...AGAIN" below)

"Ending D" (illust - Everyone dies...) "Sempai Noir" (illust - Adeleine draws Noir) "sEmPaI bLaDe" (illust - Gooey draws Noir)

[Extras - Scripts] “Vestige” (script - Susie + Adeleine) "Evil Science" (script - Meta Knight + Susie) "W.Noir and Taranza + Adeleine and Magolor" (scripts) "...AGAIN." (script - Noir in Dream Land 3) (Leads to same post as Hell Branch Returns" above) "Why Does Life Suck?" (more Hell Branch crossover)

"Re_Birthday" (script/sketch - Noir reflects as Adeleine mourns)

[Extras - Asks] "Warning Sign?" (text) "W.Noir and Meta Knight" (text) "What was Gooey...?" (text) "Adeleine, Noir, and 'bullies'" (text) "Noir as Dream Land 3's Dark Matter" (text) "Dark Matter Painter's Light" (reblog; White-Haired Noir lore) "Why hell though?" (text)

[Shiver Siblings Takeover] (For one weekend, I let Adeleine and Noir "answer" any asks about them. White-Haired Noir shows up too. Somewhat non-canon, but surprisingly connected?!?)

Please Send Positive Thoughts to... Which Kirby Adventure... [w/ Sketch] If You Had a Wish-Granting Clock... Food and Warm Clothes Arrive... [w/ Sketch] A Crystal Ball to See the Future - Noir... [Comic] A Crystal Ball to See the Future - W. Noir [Comic] Have You Been to the Forgotten Land... [Comic] (This ^ one is canon to W.Noir btw!) So Zan Roasted Your Sister Online... A Conversation (?) With Marx [Comic] Thanks for the Fun Weekend [w/ Sketch]

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

PAELLA

Hello I had a random idea for a potential snippet of my Alastor x OC/reader set in the future when the two of them are in hell and MC makes him suffer. *feeds you scraps at my front door*

Asexual Alastor x Asexual/ADHD reader

Summary: It's a short one but Alastor tries to be sweet about something and MC decides not today and infodumps on him about tranquilisers. Spoiler: she gets Lucifer involved.

Word count: 389

Alastor is a sex repulsed ace (like me) in my fics and will remain so forever. <3

You can find the main fic HERE

“Well you know what they say!” Alastor trilled, eyes closed as he tapped you on the nose. “Every kiss begins with—“

“Ketamine.”

He froze, static going silent and his smile strained as his eyes flew wide open. His eyebrows gave away his confusion as he glanced at you, finger still hovering in front of your face. You continued.

“A hydrochloride tranquiliser, used in veterinary practice, mostly as an anaesthetic or something for horses.” You explained, breaking eye contact with him to reach your fork over and nick a piece of chorizo from his plate whilst he was still frozen.

It took a few moments, but the usual static eventually returned, Alastor blinking his red eyes a few times to get them to focus again. It wasn’t until you reached your fork over a second time to scoop a whole mouthful of paella that he finally let out a sigh. 

“If that’s what you want.” He huffed, his smile loosening into a tired closed-lip one. “I believe we could find some.”

“Sure,” you said absentmindedly as you typed away at your phone. “Lemme know if it works.” 

He tilted his head, until he suddenly realised what you meant, fluffy ears going pin straight as his eyes widened again. Narrowing them, he leant on his elbow over the table as he brought his face to yours, words coming out in a hiss.

“If you’re suggesting—“ 

“Lucifer?” You confirmed, eyes darting up from your phone. “Yea I’ve already texted him - he said he’s up for it. Apparently he’s too impatient to wait for truth or dare night to make out with you.”

All you got was loud static in response, and you watched him from the corner of your eye as his limbs twisted and eyes blackened in an attempt to stop you. All you did was hold a finger up in response.

“Unless you want me to ask Vox, I suggest you finish the paella I made for you.” 

You heard the static stop, and within a second he was back to normal, munching away at your meal, though now with a prominent twitch in his smile, as he glared death beams across the table. Your phone vibrated, and you read the text Lucifer sent.

“Oh, and he says wear something nice.”

The fork in his hand snapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor: *sobs in asexual* "Why does MC do this?"

MC (also a sex repulsed ace): NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

If you know the ketamine meme, make out with me rn.

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*grabs you all by the throat* *feeds you content*

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[eruden-writes]

Choosing the Bear - Part 3 (Zeke x Bambi)

Shifter Paranormal Romance Supernatural is a Secret 2 of ???

Inspired by the Man or Bear in the Woods question/meme.

Bambi Barker never anticipated having to run for her life from her ex, Duke Walker, through an Appalachian forest. She also never thought she’d run into a white (polar?) bear in the middle of the god-dang forest, either.

Being stuck between a bear and a man, Bambi is about to get answers to questions she didn’t even know she had.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Part 1 - Part 2 - Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

Zeke took a step toward Bambi, closing the space between them. His fists balled at his sides and seriousness pinched between his brows. “You can’t tell no one, y’hear?”

For a breath, Bambi stared up at him, surprised. Did he think she was so vapid as to go blabbing about this to the town?

“What would I tell them? Who would believe me?” Bambi shook her head, giving a bitter snort. She noticed how Zeke still held his shoulders, stiff with tension. Leveling a look at him, she bit out, “Most people didn’t even believe me about Duke.”

Though still wary, Zeke’s shoulders sagged a little bit. He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head toward her. “What’s goin’ on there, anyhow?”

“I split up with him a couple years back, got custody of the kids, but he’s not lettin’ it go.” Averting her gaze, staring off into the darkness of the forest, Bambi sighed, “This time, he took it another step farther.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Her attention snapped back to Zeke, a frown creased at her lips. He stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, head cocked and that infuriating masked expression she couldn’t even read back in high school. “What can I do? He’s a Walker.”

Under his beard, Zeke’s lips thinned before he gave a nod. “And the Walkers got the Barfield cops on their payroll, so reporting the harassment and stalkin’ and kidnapping ain’t doing much.”

“Pretty much.” Bambi rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air, frustration making her movements sharp. Silence fell after her short rejoinder. Heaving a sigh, she shook her head and crossed her own arms as she leaned against a tree. “Enough of my sob story. What’s going on with you?”

“Same old, same old.” He mirrored her body language, still facing her but also leaning back against a tree.

“I think I would’ve noticed a hulking white bear trawling through Barfield High, Zeke.” Her nose scrunched as she shot him a cheeky smile. A part of her realized how strange it was to be joking about this supernatural happening, but she couldn’t find the energy to care.

The familiar sour expression pinched at his face, bringing further amusement to Bambi’s lips. Her smile faded away when Zeke growled, “Drop it. Forget that happened.”

“Fine, whatever.” A familiar little ache shot through her, a frown overtaking her lips. Of course, he wouldn’t trust her. He didn’t trust her back in high school either. Hell, he didn’t seem to trust anyone. How in the world he ended up with a kid, she didn’t know. But she supposed one didn’t need to trust someone they fucked.

An owl hooted overhead and something scuttled in the bushes far to her left, reminding Bambi of her current situation. “Can you give me a lift back into town? I’m a little underdressed for a hike.”

“Can’t. I was out here foraging for the sanctuary. Gotta get back and take care of the animals.” Zeke rocked forward, off his tree and half-turned from the human woman. “If you head north, you’ll hit the highway in a little while.”

Bambi, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch. She did stare directly at him, her face frozen in an impassive expression. She was fairly certain he could see her in the dark better than she could him and he seemed to falter, seeing her lack of movement. “You expect me to go through the forest.”

“Yes,” he replied, his shoulders visibly tensing.

“In the dead of night. With my ex stalking the mountainside for me.” Now Bambi finally moved. She stepped closer to him, inclining her head and raising her eyebrows as her tone became steelier. “Not to mention mountain lions ‘n other bears or – Lord save me – other men out hunting for prey.”

She paused, conspicuously eyeing Zeke as she amended, “Well, human men.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, Zeke sighed. “Alright, fine. Stop the guilt tripping. Let me drop Mercy off at home and check on the animals, then I’ll take ya’ home.”

“Thanks, Zeke.” Tension that Bambi didn’t realize she’d been holding oozed out of her as her shoulders sagged.

His expression didn’t melt at her gratitude. “I ain’t bein’ kind. You gotta pay for gas by helpin’ with the animals.”

“Fine by me.” Bambi shrugged, undeterred by whatever chore he might have set his eyes on for her.

“Wait til you see what I’m gonna have you do.” In the dark, she caught sight of him grinning wickedly in the moonlight. It was probably meant to unsettle her or put her off, but it only served to get Bambi to meet his challenge head-on.

“Oh, by helping the animals, did you mean I’d be helping you—“ Her words choked off in a yelp as Zeke suddenly swung around, boxing Bambi against a tree.

As he leaned close, Bambi had to remind herself to breathe. Heat radiated off him and her nose filled with the scent of the woods and dirt and something wild. Zeke’s voice dipped low, a gravel to his words as his hot breath brushed over her cheek, “Don’t go sayin’ fool things, Bambi Barker.”

Covering up the effect he had on her, Bambi gave a slightly breathless laugh. “Aw, and here I thought I was talkin’ your language, Zeke Clements.”

When he pushed away, she caught the corner of the corner of his lip twitching upward under his beard. With a sigh that covered his amusement, he shook his head and turned away from her. “You’re just as impossible as I remember.”

“You’ve been thinkin’ of little ole me? How sweet.” Bambi fell into step behind Zeke, stepping carefully. With the adrenaline draining out, her legs were starting to tremble. Or that’s what she told herself. The aches of running around the forest were certainly catching up.

“You ain’t so little anymore.” Zeke scoffed, ducking to miss a low tree branch that Bambi didn’t even need to stoop for as she passed.

“Excuse me?” A flare of manufactured outrage made her forget of the pain in her feet.

He spun toward her so fast, she ran into his front. Before she could pull back and apologize – all offense forgotten with her own faux pas – warm hands squeezed her sides. She yelped, her hands going to Zeke’s forearms and leaning back as he leaned closer. His warm breath played over her shoulder as he taunted, “Packed on the pounds yourself. You even said so.”

Bambi swallowed down another inelegant sound when he squeezed her sides. A mish-mash of annoyance and fluster tangled in her gut. Before she could snap at him or mumble some sort of reply, Zeke’s nose twitched. His face tilted down and she heard another, deeper sniff.

“Where’s your shoes, Bambi?” He didn’t even look up at her. His voice had taken on the dangerous smoothness of a riptide.

“Duke took ‘em. Thought I wouldn’t run without ‘em.” Memories fluttered through Bambi, remembering the times when Zeke had previously taken on that voice. Usually, it resulted in a bully getting a walloping, whether it was a peer or even a parent.

He was madder than a hornet’s nest being used as a pinata. The thought knifed through Bambi, imagining what he thought. How pathetic she’d gotten since graduation. She’d heard enough about her failings from Duke.

Excuses lodged in her throat when Zeke suddenly scooped her up, one bulky arm under her knees and the other at her back. She gasped and instinctively looped an arm around his neck. “What do you think you’re doin’?!”

He’d already started walking again, sticks snapping under his heavy soles. He glared off into the distant night. Bambi thought they looked darker than they had a moment earlier. “Yer feet’re all cut up. I can smell the blood.”

“You didn’t have a problem with me walkin’ earlier,” Bambi shot back, her accusatory tone harkening back to his original plan to let her trek through the mountainside forest.

“Didn’t realize the blood I was smellin’ was yours.” Again, Zeke didn’t look down at her. He just continued glaring into the dark. Though Bambi thought there was an edge of guilt to his words. It was probably her imagination.

There wasn’t much to say in response. Her tired mind had gone to mush, anyhow. With her weight off her feet and the hypnotic rocking of Zeke’s walking, it was becoming harder for Bambi to keep her eyes open. The warmth radiating from the man and the steady thrum of his heart fought against the aches and pains in her body, as well.

Held by the bear of a man – true in more ways than one, Bambi deliriously thought – she slowly lolled off to sleep on that dark, dark mountainside.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

If you like my content, please consider supporting me on: 

*:･ﾟ✧ Patreon or  Ko-Fi *:･ﾟ✧

[merp0515]

Healing Past Scars Chapter 3 Distorted Memory

Summary: After the dealing with so many traumatic incidents, our beloved meme guardain boys have to come into terms with both past and present scars. Will they be able to conquer them with an iron fist or will those same wounds destroy them both?

Tags: Suicidal Thoughts,PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing , Developing Relationship

TW: The following story contains dark themes such as disturbing imagery.

Link to chapter 2’s Tumblr version is here , Ao3 link is here and Wattpad link is here

Morning arrived at the showgrounds. You could hear the birds chirping, the soft breeze touching the pine trees, and some depressed ass clown going through the showground owner's garbage dump again looking for anything to help his lovely rat friends get through their day.

With a groan, the blue meme guardian awakens. He didn't sleep well yesterday due to the nightmare he had. All of those images that appeared in his dream felt all too realistic for the meme guardian and it overwhelmed him. He laid there in bed for a minute staring at the circus-like ceiling trying to process and start his day off like he usually does. He sighs in defeat, honestly not wanting to get out of his bed closing his eyes once more.

Maybe for once I can wake myself up later in the day. He thought to himself as he readjusted himself on his couch bed and felt himself drifting into a deep slumber once more.

Silence filled the empty dark void where he stood. Four cautiously took baby steps forward so he didn't accidentally trip over himself as he walked through this space of nothingness. His ocean eyes filled with anxiety and fear as he walked around the place, unsure of where it's leading him to. All he could hear was his own breath and his footsteps leading him somewhere.

“So I take it that your latest attraction didn't really attract more people to the showgrounds huh?” A distorted voice spoke, causing the lad to jump in surprise.

“W-who are you? What do you want with me?” SMG4 spoke fearfully as he heard footsteps echoing in the background heading towards his way. The background around him changed from pitch black to a mix of yellow and black.

“I mean it should be obvious by my voice is.” It continued to say, the voice completely unrecognizable the more distorted it sounded. Four got into a fighting stance, just in case this thing was going to land a surprise attack. It laughs at him, taunting his tense stance as it saw SMG4 getting more anxious by the minute.

“Come out and show yourself!” The showgrounds owner responded angrily.

The laughing stopped.

Silence took over once more in the black and yellow area. The male eyes his surroundings carefully just in case a figure was trying to make any kind of movement.

Suddenly the sounds of footsteps were making their way towards him. He looks at the direction to where the footsteps were being made. Four squints his eyes closer, trying to figure out who or what this thing was.

The figure was getting closer to him and Four felt his breath hitch the more clearer it was appearing to be. He felt his stomach turn and felt like he was going to throw up from what he was seeing. This figure had the disgusting goop of eyes he remembered seeing from the old castle. The creepy red eyed thing wrapped itself all over his body and covered its left eye. His other eye was a bright yellow color and on the same side that he could see he had a mix of black and pink scars that covered the visible side of his face.

Four was frozen in place, unable to look away from the monstrous being that was facing him with sinister intentions.

His smile made him uneasy as hell. It didn't help either that his appearance looked exactly like someone he knew so well. Or in this case, someone that definitely hits a little too close to home.

Someone like…..

“S-M-G-4!” a certain Italian male screeched cheerfully. The fat Italian kicked his door wide open, waking the meme guardian boy from his second nightmare. Four jumped out of his bed and landed on the floor, his body covered in sweat and trying to catch his breath. Mario looked down to see Four on the floor confused, unaware of what the other male just went through his dream.

“Oh. There you are! Mario was wondering where you went!” The Nintendo icon spoke cheerfully. Four groaned in both pain and annoyance as he slowly got up from the ground and stared at the man already feeling both exhausted and relieved to see him.

“Morning Mario.” The tired male spoke. Four lets out a yawn and rubs his left eye from sleep as he waits to hear what Mario has to say.

“Mario wants to know if we are going to watch some memes together today! It's been way too long since we reacted to any memes and Mario misses seeing all the silly things we find!” The Italian male complained at Four.

The meme guardian sighed in response. He looked at Mario with a small fake smile to ease the energetic male.

“Sure why not? It has been a long time and I know the fans have been wondering when we planned to do another meme reaction of yours.” SMG4 said cheerfully as he stretched his back.

“Let me just eat first and then set everything up so we can record the video.” He spoke calmly. Mario's eyes lit up in excitement from the small gameplan Four made and did his signature jump in glee.

“Wahoo! Okie Dokie! Mario will wait for you to be ready! See you in the game room!” Mario said cheerfully as he did a peace sign and disappeared from his friend's room. Four chuckled at the Italian's silliness and got dressed in his iconic overalls, getting ready for his long and chaotic day with his friends.

The Fourth Guardian couldn't help but wonder back to the nightmare he experienced, trying to figure out the weird distorted thing that spoke to him. He sighs in defeat, his memory already blocking to ease his mind. He looks back at his computer set up and walks towards it. His eyes fell on the photo that was his desk and picked it up gently. He stares at it pensively as his internal thoughts were drowning out his surroundings. Four stared at one particular person in the photo, lost in thought.

Super Meme Guardian Three.

His former ex rival, now friend.

Time really changed these two ever since they discovered they were meme guardians by SMG1 and SMG2. If there was one thing he was grateful for, he was glad that they are on the same side now and going on adventures together.

The good, the bad, and the ugly.

SMG4 puts back the photo where he first placed it and started to walk out of his room. A yawn escaped his lips as he sluggishly dragged himself to the front door.

“Mario, I'll be back! I'm gonna get some coffee from Three. Do you want anything?” The sleepy male shouted at Mario as he opened the door.

“Bring Mario spaghetti!” The red lad said from the game room. Four rolls his eyes at the request not surprised in the slightest but makes a mental note to ask anyway. “Alright!” He shouted once more as the blue man turned and headed towards Three's Coffee N’ Bombs to retrieve his favorite drink.

[spooniechef]

Helpful Household Items: Air Fryer

To use the meme format: "I've only had my air fryer for a week and a half, but if anything happened to it, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself". I mean, not literally, but largely because I'm not in that place in my life anymore and live alone, but you get what I mean. I had some gift voucher and it was about enough to get myself a small air fryer - only two litre capacity. It seemed a good compromise; I didn't have to spend any money, I could see how an air fryer could or could not change my life, and I could get a new, bigger one if it worked out.

...Okay, I mostly got an air fryer so I could try this quasi-recipe that Jordan Howlett tripped over, so here's your recipe for the post:

I haven't tried that yet, but I will tell you this much: it has absolutely changed my life, and honestly, I think every spoonie should own one. Here's a few examples of why:

It's great for when the physical spoons are lacking. I'm not just talking about bad pain days, either. My experience with fibromyalgia has involved a fair few days where my grip strength is hit and miss, or when I have spasms so my motor control is equally hit and miss. But as long as you're keeping things in a single layer, you hardly even have to turn anything in an air fryer (though I grant it sometimes helps). No bending to put things into or pull things out the oven, no shoving things around a skillet, nothing like that. Just put a thing in the drawer, set it to the right parameters, and withdraw the drawer when done.

To add to that - little to no cleaning. You're using little to no oil, so all it takes is lining it with parchment and a quick wipe-down when done. Washing a skillet is hell on bad days, especially if your skillet is a good heavy one.

It's also great when mental spoons are lacking. My personal experience with a combination of ADHD and brain fog is that sometimes I forget when something's in the oven, mostly when I'm doing oven chips or something. Or I get a little unsure as to exactly how long a piece of meat should be in the oven for the level of done-ness I want. Or both. Either way, I could go to the rigamarole of getting an egg timer and setting it and the like ... or I could have a nice little machine that not only automatically beeps like the microwave when it's done, it also turns itself off like the microwave when it's done. So if I, say, got involved in something I couldn't easily pause because I didn't realise my food would be ready in two minutes, I don't have to worry about it burning.

There's an economic benefit as well. I'm single. I live alone. Even if I got (when I get) a larger air fryer, running one of those to cook a chicken leg quarter or a a salmon fillet has to be easier on the electric bill than doing it in a full-sized oven. Because of the size, it also pre-heats faster than a full-sized oven, just because there's less space to heat.

Seriously, I used it to cook salmon for dinner tonight. Done perfectly with little to no effort. Mine is small, but the basket is the perfect size for a serving of fish or a chicken leg quarter or just the right number of tater tots. Mostly I want a bigger one for when I have company or when I want to do chicken nuggets and tater tots. Also to make a decent-sized batch of potato chips, or frozen fries where I don't have to stop midway through to shake up the contents of the container because their shape doesn't lend well to a single layer in a basket that small. I worried about the space it took up until I learned that an air fryer can also serve as a dehydrator. So I could get rid of my dehydrator, put a good-sized air fryer in its place, and ... I dunno, keep the little one around for emergencies?

No, not for emergencies - for small batches of the above recipe so I don't end up becoming 80% sugar by volume.

[diablo-that-first-spark]

Hell has frozen over: I am deviating from the lore

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my dearest cupcakes, you read that correctly. Hell is indeed an icy wasteland now and the Seven Evils need full winter gear to function. I am officially ignoring certain parts of the lore and deviating back to a previous version of them.

For those who don’t really know me, here’s why this is a big deal:

Lore is sacred.

Respect the goddamn source material.

These are the two golden rules I always follow, no matter the fanart or fanfiction I create (I’m talking about serious attempts here, not jokey sketches or memes, of course). I do not trample over established lore and rules in a world, just because I want to tell my story. I always do my best to make my story and characters work within the guidelines already set by the original creators. I don’t retcon backstories, I don’t blackwash, I especially don’t rainbow-wash, all of these are shameful practices in my eyes, and I would not be caught dead doing them.

Anyway.

With Diablo 4 out and its spin-off stories being published, I am finally forced to partially let go of the “Lore is sacred” golden rule… or at the very least, stay true to a former version of said lore. Namely, the Diablo 3 and the Sin War trilogy versions.

Now, it is obvious that Blizzard is doing its best to ignore D3 altogether in D4, outside of bringing back a few older locations like Maghda’s boss arena or the Forgotten Overlook. Returning D3 characters would rather die than mention anything from that game, while D2 characters (who should be dead 3 times over by this point) can’t shut the hell up about their former adventures.

It is also an undisputed fact that D3 is the least popular entry in the franchise among the hardcore non-fanart-creating part of the fandom. A sad fact, but a fact nonetheless.

Now, I am not saying Blizzard is a shit company, they don’t know what they are doing, I know better. No. Stories change. Things get retconned. Characters rewritten. Course-correction is necessary. That happens to almost every long-running story, it is entirely normal.

I just don’t like these changes, I think they take away from the lore overall. Attempts to erase my favorite entry from the franchise won’t make me happy, naturally, even if I wholeheartedly understand the purely logical and business reasons behind it.

So! Not to mince words, here is a list of every retcon I can think of from the top of my head, that I am going to apply to That First Spark:

1) Nephalem are weak no-name peasants who look perfectly human

Going by D3 and Sin War rules, in TFS nephalem are absolute powerhouses who survive insane shit being thrown at them, just because they are nephalem. Their power level is either off the charts or much higher than normal, both in magic and in physical strength. As a personal preference, I will also make the First Generation Nephalem (namely, Rathma) a little bit inhuman. I lllloved it when we still believed Elias would be Rathma, his design was perfect for the role. I will give Rathma a bit of a redesign for Act IV but his slight but disturbing inhuman appearance will remain so. No full-blown furry designs, that is just ridiculous, good lord.

(One day, I might write a rant about the current state of the Nephalem-era of history, because it is an absolute travesty. One day.)

2) Inarius is just a “lieutenant” of Tyrael

Yeah, nah, eff that. Rhythm brothers, till the day I die.

3) Rathma becomes the First Necromancer after he corrects a very plot-convenient mistake.

(Not going into more detail because the Rathma graphic novel is still very new.)

I’m going back to the original lore, which is far more interesting: Linarian had started a rebellion among his generation, after he realized their children were born weaker because of Inarius’ meddling. The rebellion goes horribly wrong, Inarius manages to kill most of the first generation nephalem with the aid of the Worldstone then he disappears and suffers a fate of isolation that eventually breaks his mind. On the other side, Linarian goes insane over the guilt of leading his fellow nephalem to their deaths, until the dragon Trag’Oul finds him and teaches him of the Balance, giving him the name “Rathma” (“Keeper of the Balance”).

None of this is made up by me, btw. This is how the lore was in the Sin War trilogy books.

4) Demons can be born/manufactured from the blood of angels

That is just the dumbest stuff Diablo Immortal has ever pulled, like hell I will work with that.

5) Lyndon didn’t kill Rea, instead he allows her to make his life hell

Hells, I already retconned it with the ending of Act I, without even trying. I saw into the future with this!

On a personal note: this is the most terrible story line they could have given to Lyndon, I hate everything about it, and I wish it to the deepest pits of hell. He deserves better. Grimdark is utter trash.

6) Lilith is an unkillable boss bitch that walks away from lethal crippling injuries like it’s nothing

Oh do not worry, she is going to be an absolute nightmare to take down. Quiet and co. will have to work for it hard. But originally Lilith has never been the “strahng wahmen unkillable boss bitch” modern day trope, and she won’t be that in TFS either. I have to be clever with what kind of injuries she may or may not receive.

7) Kingsport is on the south-western shore of the Western Continent

TFS works with the Diablo 3 version of the world map. If there is a location that is needed for the story, which shows up on the D4 map, but not the D3 map, I will bring that one detail in. There is nothing big behind this decision, I just grew used to the D3 map.

8) Lilith initiates the Purge of the Renegades because of Linarian's vision her son told her about

I am working with the Book of Cain version: Lilith assumes Inarius is already plotting the genocide of the children when he withdraws to meditate on the right choice. So she kills every angel and demon so that should Inarius want to destroy the children, he would remain utterly alone on a dead world. Her gambit would pay off in the end, although not before Inarius banishes her.

---

I am sure there will be a bit more retcons down the line, but for now, these are the critical nodes I see from here.

It probably doesn’t sound too bad for you, and I agree, I am probably making a mountain out of a mole-hill here. However, I have my own code to follow in creative works, and I honestly feel like this deviation from my usual methods warrants a heads-up.

So, anyway, back to the drawing board! I wish I had an ETA to give you cupcakes about the arrival of Act IV, but unfortunately I don’t. Thank you for your continuous patience!

2024.08.26.

[chaifootsteps]

https://www.reddit.com/r/Vivziepopmemes/s/zjfTnKxeYk

This entire thread over a meme pointing out that Stella is one dimensional is making me feel like I’m taking crazy pills. Like the fucking takes in this are shallower than the kiddie pool with the grace of frozen iceberg lettuce.

“She’s a demon and she’s in Hell so she just likes tormenting because demons are bad.”

Except for when we’re shown in universe that demon ≠ being automatically bad. Like Charlie caring about sinners dying, baby Blitz having qualms about stealing, M&M having a healthy and loving relationship, Ozzie and Bee being overall nice people dispite being deadly sins.

“People are 1 Dimensional in real life, some people are just assholes.”

Ok sure but that’s not really that interesting to write or to watch. Other villains at least have an iota of depth to their motivations like Striker’s hatred for royals and Verosika’s past with Blitz, so Stella stands out for being evil because lol fuck it. Especially with how important she is to the Stolas plot she’s so flat and uninteresting.

“Why do people care this much about silly demon show? Just don’t care lol”

What if? I drive my show off of a cliff?

So yea, Helluvaverse Twitter is a garbage fire but Reddit ain’t much better Jesus Christ.

"People are 1 Dimensional in real life"

All of this is clown world tier nonsense but I think this is the one that annoys me the most, because it shows just how limited these peoples' grasp on the real world actually is.

No one does anything for no reason, not in real life and arguably not in fiction either. It's not always a good reason or a reason that makes sense from the outside looking in, but everyone is the hero of their own story. Everyone has some kind of driving factor behind the choices they make.

Readings like this are moronic.

[syrena-del-mar]

July 27....

July 27 has always been a day I struggled with. It's my birthday. Some years, I hate this day and other years, I forget about it, usually busy for some reason or other.

Today, I just feel sad.

If some of you follow me on Twitter or talk to me on Discord, you probably know my profile picture is of my sweet old dachshund, Samantha Jane.

Samantha Jane turned 17 years, 5 months and 10 days old today. As of 5:20 this morning, that will be the oldest that she will ever be. And of the 6,731 days she had on this earth, I was lucky enough to have spent the last 1,375 days with her. I know it's funny to say that I expected so many more years with her, especially at her age (insert the Derry Girls meme), but I have 3 other geriatric dogs and she was by far my strongest. I wanted more time with her.

But I'll never get that time with her again and I can never return to 20 hours ago when she was physically with me. So, instead, I'll tell her story to whoever wishes to read this because it's one hell of a life that she lived. I also find comfort that thoughts never disappear, even when they are harder to access, so even if just one other person reads this, maybe there she will live forever.

Samantha Jane arrived at the local pound back in 2007 with the rest of her litter, apparently with a tag that read the date of when they were born. The pound took one look at this litter that arrived and decided that, no, they must be Doberman puppies because of how big their paws and ears. Funnily enough, her first owner, an elderly lady who had just lost her husband, adopted Samantha Jane at 8 weeks thinking that she would grow up to be a Doberman. Spoiler alert... she never did.

But even so, she was so very loved. And from what I heard, Samantha Jane loved her first owner just as fiercely. But at four, Sammie lost her first owner. While I don't know, and probably never will, what Sammie's life was like in her first home, I was told that when her first owner passed away, she accompanied her the whole night, refusing food and water or even to go to the restroom, until her owner passed away peacefully.

From there, she immediately got adopted out to Mr. and Mrs. V, another elderly couple, who were friends of her first owner. If Sammie had been spoiled before, she was spoiled rotten by Mr. and Mrs. V, particularly by Mrs. V. They traveled everywhere together. From California to West Virginia and every state between, the three would go on spontaneous road trips across America. This is probably where Sammie got her love for car rides. And when they were unable to take her? She had a favorite college student who would babysit her and stay over at their home so that Sammie could watch her daily cartoons in the evening on her favorite reclining chair. Mrs. V would type up detailed notes detailing how many green beans Sammie would eat (frozen not steamed), what channels had her favorite shows, her favorite spot to sunbathe, and every other minute detail you can imagine.

Sammie loved Mrs. V immensely—she loved Mr. V as well—but Sammie has always been a girl's girl, and she loved Mrs. V. But time is gentle to nobody, and at the age of 10, Sammie lost one of her owners again. Like clockwork, she sensed something was wrong as Mrs. V was dying and stayed with her, but this time laying herself on Mrs. V's chest—as if wanting to feel her last heartbeat.

From then on, it was just Mr. V and Sammie at home and on those road trips for the next two years. They cared for each other and comforted one another until they couldn't. Sammie was never great at walking in a straight line without roaming, and in one of those times that she stopped to sniff the roses, she accidentally tripped and sent Mr. V flying. In the blink of an eye, Mr. V was taken by ambulance, and this time, there was no favorite college student to take care of her. So, she was placed in boarding for three weeks.

Sammie was not built for boarding and with two broken hips, Mr. V knew it wasn't feasible or good for Sammie to be under his care anymore. So, in the morning, he started asking all the nurses who worked in the assisted living community where he lived if anyone wanted a 12-year-old puppy. News spread, and like a game of telephone, I was told that there was a beagle up for adoption.

By this point, so many people knew that I was looking for a puppy to adopt. I had spent the whole year prior applying and getting rejected by shelters because I was always a step too late to submit my applications. What everyone didn't know was that 7 weeks prior, I had finally gotten the first place on the waiting list for a Maltese-Cocker Spaniel mix puppy, and on Oct. 28th, I had been told that I could pick her up on the 31st. But I grew up with a Samoyed and two big husky-german shepherds, so in my brain, the math of one small puppy + one medium elderly dog really just equals one whole dog. That makes sense, right?

So I did all my shopping, preparing for a tiny puppy and what I thought was supposed to be a beagle. Imagine my surprise, on October 31st, when I arrived to pick up Sammie at Mr. V's home and found myself with a miniature dachshund instead of a beagle. I was shocked, to say the least. But even in that surprise, Sammie came running to me, barking so I would place her in my car. And I mean barking. She barely even gave Mr. V time to provide me with everything he and his wife had bought her: numerous blankets with her name embroidered, her favorite cross-body carrier, all her comfiest beds, all the ties that Mrs. V had made her, and her 70-page medical history book. By the time Mr. V and I were done, Sammie had fallen asleep on the passenger seat without a care.

I like to say that I was tricked and treated that Halloween. She was not the beagle I expected to own, but she was the best friend I could ever have. After picking her up, we drove 4 hours to San Diego and picked up Luna Ivy, who would soon become Samantha Jane's little kid. But even then, during the first couple of weeks, Sammie struggled. She would be happy all day, but the night fell, and she mourned and cried that she wasn't with Mr. V. I would hug her, place her bed on my rocking chair, and do everything that I could to calm her down. But for two weeks straight, she cried every night because nothing worked.

But we all adjusted. It was the pandemic, but we were gifted that time together despite all the bad things. Still, in our little odd way, we became a family. Samantha became my little shadow. Back then, I was in my first semester of law school, and since we were having classes on Zoom, my two girls were always right there on my lap. Honestly, they probably understood civil procedure as much as I did (which is to say, wasn't a lot).

Sammie got to know me and my moods. Whenever I was stressed, she whined until I picked her up and watched TV with her. If Luna was being too much, she regulated. I would even argue that she did most of the training when it came to Luna. She taught Luna how to pee on a pad, let her feet get washed, bark at the doorbell, know when to chill, enjoy a good snooze, and her love for car rides. For never being with another dog in her life, she took to being a surrogate mom incredibly well.

Five years have passed since then. We've gone on several trips together to the beach, the snow, the desert, and across state lines in cars and RVs. Within that time, she got two more dachshund siblings she loved to yell at, a human nephew who would gently pet her back from the moment he could walk, and countless cuddles. She took as many sun rays as she could sneak in and loved to steal some of Luna's food when I wasn't paying attention. She would humor me and let me dress her up as much as I wanted though she would draw the line at shoes.

Now I have a closet filled with her clothes, her embroidered blankets, and her favorite beds, but no owner. Her collar and harness are still hanging up next to Luna's, Samuel Jackson's, and Serena June's, waiting for a walk that is never going to come. I have a cabinet full of her medications that I'll never have to give again. My hallway will never hear the clacks of her feet as she padded through again. And I will never be able to hold her close again.

To some, they might not understand the love of a dog, and they might just think of me as a crazy millennial who is too absorbed with their dogs instead of others. And maybe I am. But that's okay. Sammie was my family. She was there when I almost quit law school. She was there when I got sick. She was there for every single one of my birthdays. She understood. Sometimes a little too well.

And after seeing two of her owners die, she decided that today it was going to be her turn. At 5:20 A.M., Luna entered the room and snuggled beside her on their shared bed. Sammie, who had previously been looking out the door, shifted her head and placed it on Luna's back, getting comfortable for the last time. Seconds later, she would take her last breaths as she looked at her family. We were the last thing she saw in this world.

And just like that fateful October 31st five years ago, I know she will find her way back home this Dia de los Muertos, where her ofrenda will await her arrival so can be with us once more.