#If you say that the new alts are bad then screw you i love the new alts

[superstaridolstart]

Pokemon Masters: Getting tons of flack for making recolor alts for its 5th anniversary.

Me, on the other hand:

[moonlight-tmd]

I absolutely love the au where bee is a con!! if you don't mind, do you have anymore info on it? I'd love to know more on bee's own reputation and conjunx lol!

That is not a thing i expected to pop off. Oh well. This is an old idea i had like few months back that i just remembered. It's not really an AU, more like a continuation from the present.

So for short introduction- Bee is one of the counselors to Megatron, he's more of a "give ideas" guy than the one to make them work. Blitzwing, who he's been dating back on earth, is now his Conjunx and got himself his own fleet of soldiers to command. Basically Elite Guard. Bee is known to be very kind and caring but also merciless and strict when needed. He's either feared or loved among the lower status folks. He was the one that helped Megs work out the laws for the workers since he has experienced it himself. On free cycles he plays video games like always, he hangs out on videocall or in person with Longarm/Shockwave(depending on which the transformer is feeling like that cycle). If he's not doing that or working then he's spending time with Blitzwing in their apartment. They have a knack for watching romcoms from earth on evenings. They love each other very much. <3

Anyway, oh boy- a text wall!

As i said it all happened because the others basically neglected their friendship with him. They ignored or didn't notice when he was genuinely feeling bad or upset. He learned that the Autobot Council basically screwed the 'cons over from Blitzwing when they were dating- he met up with Megatron in secret and discussed few things, Blitzwing was so surprised when he saw him at the 'con base wearing the Decepticon insignia.

And so, Bee had few arguments with his team before he disappeared for good and the 'cons gained advantage after advantage and before they knew it they were arrested in their own base and taken hostage along with Sari. Megatron got the Allspark and won the war and now Cybertron's laws are being reformatted, there are few questionable changes but overall it's not that bad- truth be told but denied, it's actually better than what the Council had going on.

The next thing they know is that they are being de-armed and set free to do their job as repair bots. Sari couldn't bring herself leave them alone so she tagged along. She was about 24 i'd say when they arrive at the construction zone in New Iacon, they overhear the coversation and recognise one of the voices- they couldn't believe when the small dark cybertronian turned to them. It was Bee, his paint was matte black with shiny yellow with orange gradient stripes. His frame was different from the yellow one they knew, his alt mode was a Lamborghini. He had heels like Prowl and his horns were bigger, kind of making his helm look like a V shape. And he had doorwings. To add to it all the Decepticon Elite insignia proudly shined on his chassis and his deep lavender optics matched its color. (think Elite Guard symbol but Decepticon, it's really just to show high-placed status of the one wearing it.)

He was oddly cold to them, even corrected Ratchet when he called him 'kid'- "It's 'Sir' to you, old bot. And so is to everyone else in the facility." The others asked him questions but stopped when Bee ignored the first few and just kept talkign about what they will do here. He led them to their temporary quarters before going off somewhere.

The job would be long to be sure, they were building a space bridge gate from scratch- they had supplies assigned and more of them coming soon promised. In the first few cycles there were no issues, Bee was always on topic and polite, which was weird to see. He seemed cold whenever he spoke with them- which is why when one of the guards started talking crap to Sari for being slow and weak, Bee seemed to materialize out of this air behid the guy. He only said 3 words when the guard looked at him, petrified. "My office. Now." He wasn't angry, he spoke in a cold tone with an uncanny calm expression, optics locked on the big 'con guard. Which maybe made it more scary. He only glanced at Sari breifly before walking away, presumably into his office. What surprised them the most was how scared the guard seemed in that moment, like he just insulted Megatron himself.

It was then another guard spoke up, a femme this time. It was she that told the group that guards that mistreat workers end up without jobs and that Bee is a high ranking advisor to Megatron. And that this place is a future orphanage. Bee was strict but with a kind Spark, a respect well earned. For that and for what he did with some of the laws. They never expected Bee out of all people to be so concerned about the law n stuff. It was odd enough to see him sit by his desk signing datapads in his office.

They knew Bee was raised in an Carequarters(orphanage) with awful staff so knowing Bee was in charge of building and almost running the facility they were working on warmed their Sparks.

On all construction sites, it's bound for accidents to happen- one of the heavy-duty workers dropped a metal pillar from the upper scaffolding and Prowl was about to get hit. But Bee pushed him out of the way, unfortunatelly damaging his stabilizer. He even asked if Prowl was fine before being concerned about himself. Prowl helped him to the medbay and they had a little chat; Prowl didn't expect Bee to do that, he asked few question and Bee straight up scolded him for thinking he would be a tyrant and told him that not all of the 'cons are bad, just rough on the surface.

Then there was an accident where the weakly supported ceiling crashed on one of the constructicons. Bee was speeding down the hallway to the repair crew's quarters- they were just talking about Bee when Ratchet said something that might have been offending- "Ratchet!!" Bee yelled as he bursted thru the door- Before the medic could say something let alone apologize if Bee had some 'someone insulted me' senses, "Accident in the front hall! Medic needed- NOW!" All in a worried but stern tone. It was enough to make him grab his medical kit and rush down the hall after Bee. After that Ratchet was put on Medic duty and didn't have to work with the rest of the repair crew.

When Bee was speaking with Optimus one time he noticed a worker having troubles with lifting some materials they had no issue carrying last cycle. He left Optimus mid-conversation and came up to them to ask if eveything's alright. The big bot did say he was feeling a bit under the weather and Bee send him to get checked out in medbay and that he was off-duty for the rest of the cycle. Then he came back to Optimus and resumed the talk just like nothing happened. It only showed that Bee cared a lot about everyone.

The Bulkhead got the offer to paint the play area since it was finished. Of course for a hefty pay bonus. The play area was in a dome, in the middle stood a bronze statue representing earth's tree with swings hanging and a tunnel thru it. Prowl was also artistic in a way so he also got to paint it- the final result was a beautiful mural of a flowery meadow with a forest all around the room. And the higher you looked, there were clouds, stars and even planets near the glass ceiling. The two deemed the work as a success, seeing Bee with that childish smile again as he looked around with wonder was worth more than any of the sights from the most beautiful galaxies.

The moment the facility was finished, Bee gathered all the workers and gave a speech even Optimus was jealous of- He thanked everyone and said how grateful and happy he is to be building a better future for everyone along with them. Everything was perfect- but then the alarm rang and the Autobot rebellio bursted thru the wall and started taking everything apart. And wouldn't you know, it was the old friend Sentinel who led the pack. He tried to get Optimus to join him before being pulled into a fight with Bee who had a staff similar to the ones the guards had. Sentinel and few others were arrested(again) and the rest of the rebellion fled. Don't worry they got caught by another fleet of soldiers further away from the facility.

But that didn't matter- everything Bee was working hard for was ruined. The beautiful area was a ruin covered in dust and gunpowder. "Bee? Are you o-" "What are you staring at?! Get back to your quarters!" He had snapped before retreating to his office to cry his Spark out. The call to Megatron was hard to make, but it was even harder to answer Blitzwing's call after he was done speaking with the Warlord. They called each other at the end of each cycle, this was the first time Bee didn't answer. And he didn't answer them until Blitz was assigned to go aid him with security and arrived at the place the next cycle. He comforted his hummel as he cried- a small conversation between them happened, which Sari managed to overhear when she was passing by Bee's quarters.

From then on, whenever Bee was present on the construction-again zone Blitzwing was always near. Another worker told them about gossips that they were Conjunxes. Later Sari confirmed when they were speaking in private.

And so the construction works go monitored by a lot of guards and soldiers- few of them seemed to recognize the crew from earth but they never mentioned it- whether that was intentional or an order from Bumblebee they may never know. Blitzwing is there for Bee on every step of the way, and even his old friends had few cases to reassure him.

The carequarters are finally finished and Megatron himself comes thru the newly-built space bridge for the final check-up before grand opening later. Bee is very happy and does compliment his workers- he said how good of a job the repair crew has done right in front of them. Once the grand opening is held and done, Optimus and his crew are about to leave- but not before Bee catches them to talk. "Actually... it's just Bumblebee." He says with a smile when they call him 'sir'. he wishes them safe travel and leaves to get the facility going. Upon entering their ship, they are met with a stack of boxes and a note saying "A bonus for fast work!" signed with a cartoony earth bee doodle. Each of the boxes were signed for different crew members. In the end, Bee hasn't changed much.

Later down the timeline he and the crew regain contact after few of other projects Bee was in charge of. Bee gives them better stuff and gifts and invites them to a grand gala. He and Sari have a proper reunition then, he cannot apologize enough for leaving her like that. There is a happy ending after all.

And that's it. I don't have any more info on this. The well is dry. Feel free to ask about anything else.

Lol, on the side note; this Bee's theme song would be Little Girl Gone by CHINCHILLA. (The "Say that again i didn't quite hear ya" song)

[z0mbicide]

assigning the menaces texts from last night bc i love that site so goddamn much

under the cut; cw for nsft subject matter

asterion: (218): Nothing quite like spending your evening singing Shania Twain I Feel Like a Woman barbershop quartet Style with some homeless guys outside of Keyport liquor. love Shania Twain. How's your Sunday?

atlas: (309): If the multiverse is real, would you screw yourself? I'd screw myself.

agri: (236): I just recommended that the library purchase the first major hentai with tentacle porn. Really, I'm doing everyone a favor.

arven: (719): Why do so many fanfic writers want to see hockey players get pregnant?

aeon: (870): God. Spice Girls is now grocery store demographic. Kill me.

andrew: (607): I pointed at him and said "there goes mr fuckwad"

ambrose: (325): He stopped the gas pump at 69 and gave me my receipt. He wants it.

xander: (612): At this point, I would not mind getting hit by a truck. It would mean I could get this over with quicker.

azur: (612): The covid immunization shot lady also sold me a mondo bag of really good pot.

alcor: (870): Have you actually looked at the corn flakes box? I don't think the rooster has a soul.

arsène: (563): You know we wouldn't even be talking about all this if you would have kept your candy consumption judgement comments to yourself.

rian: (303): please don't ironically join a cult

artemis: (801): I get so pissed when there is something that NEEDS to be made fun of and you're not here.

attis: (715) I just got out of a $280 speeding ticket by acting like The Big Lebowski. Seriously Jeff Bridges is the man.

alata: (519): I HATE BEING THIS HIGH FML IT'S LIKE I'M MAKING UP FOR ALL THE 4:20S I DIDN'T DO ALL AT ONCE

avan: (617): There's no way entering a gas station bathroom memorializing an alien abduction in rural New Hampshire is a good idea.

gaius: (519): hey i'm sure you are probably asleep bc you suck and think sleep is necessary to live or something?

ardalion: (709): Came up to an intersection and someone was blasting My Chemical Romance at like 9 AM. They're DEFINITELY having a good day.

adam: (870): Cancel your plans for the fourth someone is streaming iron chef on twitch

sunny: (262): At some point i am going to say to you "i have this really bad idea! You in?" just go with it.

aegnis: (530): can I CTRL ALT DELETE this universe

axel: (239): He sided with his father, so I slashed his tires. I'd say that's a fair trade.

adrian: (727): You went on the date? His pickup line was I swear I'm not a serial killer and you went on the date???

amelio: (920): I need advice on how to politely say "fuck you on your way to hell".

austin: (620): I sent him nudes while he is at work because I am an evil human being.

owain: (785): She's the kind of asshole whose face I want put on a T-shirt just so I can go outside and burn it.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - 2022 is the Year of Cheaters

Sept 2022 Wk 4

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying the most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Eclipse (Fri YT) Ep 7 of 15 - Screw you GMMTV, that was a dream kiss? That’s some Kdrama bullshit, that is. Still Aye is such a good character, so perceptive, I ADORED his interaction with Kan. Neo is doing an epic job with that role. That was that softest achey stolen kiss in the world. Also this ep = Beach frolic trope and a Make It Right moment.

Vice Versa (Sat on YT) Ep 11 of 12 - DOOM EP was not very doom for an ep 11 (except for the acoustic guitar). Pluen goes back because of what Tun did accidentally, not him, which honestly I kinda like as a twist. I was very confused about the “month long tidal inaction,” did the alt universe have extra moons or something? 

My Only 12% (Fri iQIYI) Ep 7 of 15 - a tear jerker this week and likely next too. Also piggybacking across a bridge, two tropes in one. We about to get the time jump which is going to be interesting. 

Work from Heart (Thurs YouTube) pulp office drama featuring lots of couples starring Gameplay. Started dropping on YT so I picked it up and stuck it into rotation. Poor Dee, his gramps is so overactingly bad, mean, evil, and homophobic. Still there is a sweet little masked meet cute. There’s a bunch of drama around a workplace and other couples all over the rainbow, so that’s fun. Sort of SCOY goes to work. There’s some nifty linguistic stuff going on so I’m actually enjoying this pulp trash. Shocking. Truly TERRIBLE wardrobe tho. And I don’t love Nammon w facial hair. 

Love in the Air (Thurs iQIYI) Ep 6 of 13 - Not a bad episode, I wasn’t mad about it. But that’s kind of how I am with MAME, it’s always up or down and last week’s a cappella counter liftt situation rough, so I’m glad this one was a bit of a break. DUMPSTER FIRE TRASH WATCH ALONG HERE.

Fahlanruk (Sun GaGa) 2 of 12 - I do not like the narrative framing technique of the female blogger/whatever. Her character does not belong in this show. What she hast to say is unnecessary, pat, and boring. In other news we got into KP bathroom territory really quickly. “Do you really like him or do you just want to win?” would appear to be the premise of this show. Both characters are players, cheaters, flirts, and anti-heroes. They better both be deeply wounded or the narrative can’t save them. I’m assuming Sher made himself this way after some similar player type broke his heart. Not sure about Fah. That said, I do like how very gay, switchy, and verse these two are. Although a complete change of underwear in the middle of a sex scene was weird to say the least. I like the side dishes. No surprise there. Still I’m not sure I can take 12 episodes of this nonsense. I contemplated a trash watch but I’m not feeling snark-inspired just sad about it.

Linguistics corner:

Fah is using phi/nai or nong (in a belittling way) with Sher. Sher is using guu/mueng with Fah, Which is highly inappropriate and rude with a phi. These two are linguistically combative, to say the least. Also the show has all the wifey language your a little heart could possibly desire.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Takara-kun and Amagi-kun (Japan Thurs GaGa & Viki) 6 of 8 - No new Ep 6 this week. Have a lovely Shūbun no Hi if you celebrate. Otherwise it’s a good tome to be self reflective and contemplate about life balance etc.. around the Autumnal Equinox. 

Once Again (Korea Fri GaGa) 3-4 of 8 - It’s a little bit more creepy than it is romantic, but it’s also weirdly amusing (this strange kid just keeps hugging him - that’s like 1000x even weirder in Korea than most places) and more enjoyable than it has a right to be. It’s a really interesting take on the childhood crush trope among other things. JaeWoo must seem like SUCH a weirdo to JiHoon. I guess what I’m saying is, it’s odd but tense and well acted, which is a nice change for BL.

More Than Words (Japan indie subbed by furritsubs - TIP ‘EM if you like em!) Adaptation of Etsuko’s two mangas In The Apartment + More Than Words. Has a violent crazy beginning but it is necessary for the story. About a lonely neglected/abused girl and a cheerful kindly popular boy who go to school together and become besties. When they get part-time work at a restaurant, a cute older gay boy enters the picture. This is classic Japanese close-filmed melodrama, and it isn’t a BL. But it is excellent. Can’t be relied on to resolve happily, or even resolve at all. I’m engaged even knowing this, and I love this subber so I’m gonna stick with it.  

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

War of Y - too hard on my soul. Will I watch it eventually? Maybe? Probably not. I think we have and ITSAY situation going on here. Also BL Express was not best pleased, and I while we rarely share taste, in this instance I trust their reporting.

My Tempo - a Thai BL movie about the Thai music industry. Yeah, no thank you. 

Oh My Sunshine Night - I’m scared it’s gonna be sad, so I’m waiting for spies to tell me it’s safe

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us - ditto above 

Finished This Week

Coffee Melody (Mon Viki) Ep 10fin - (I am assuming episode 11 is a bts or music video.) The family dinner with the new bf was endearing awkward. We had a classic Korean one year time jump in the last five minutes of the final episode. (Which shoudl be left to Korea. Actually, even Korea should get to have it anymore. We’re done with this trope. I say this on behalf of the international viewing public.) My side crumbs got a cute little mutual kiss, unfortunately ALSO multiple sing your feelings tropes. (Will I ever get a week of BL without this trope?) It will be a long time before I forgive this BL for muffling Pavel’s light this way, I know he can do better. Very disappointing. Ultimately this show is so forgettable I’ve pretty much already forgotten it. 5/10 JUST DULL

Papa & Daddy 2 (Mon GaGa) Ep 8fin - It was a standard execution of the “marriage finale” endemic to most romcoms, just v. gay. I do like that my second lead syndrome got a little prospective action. Did I tear up at the wedding? Of course I did. We have established this before, I am a sap. All in all, this was a serviceable follow up to the first installment in the series, if riddled by unbearably unlikable parents, lack of story, and sappiness. 6/10 WORTH WATCHING BUT FLAWED 

About Youth (Taiwan Mon GaGa) Ep 7-8 of 10 - I thought this was a 10 episode arc so I’m a little sad to find it ending this week. Are we ever going to get an explanation about what happened with the side dishes Taiwan really likes a romantic “one boy balances another boy on wheels” thing. I really wanted Guang to leave his awful parents but Im glad he at least threw the test. And I really appreciated that he sent a video since it was a way for him to accurately communicate his feelings without being interrupted. Cute final kiss! Very squee-worthy. Rainbow was a little on the nose. tho. All in all it was great little BL. Classic YA low drama but high angst, I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. I wish it had been given a bit more space to breathe, but all in all a great edition to the Taiwanese Bl lexicon which was in dire need of a good sold high school BL. Full review here. 8/10 RECOMMENDED 

Everyone say “Thank you Taiwan, may we have another?” 

Gossip

In a Forbes interview the executive producer of Semantic Error (and CEO of AXIS CPP) revealed that AXIS production will be opening Blue by Blue, a drama label whose first BL project is about vampires. Interview here. 

Kimmon and Copter are reported to star on their 7th BL together, a romantic comedy series, Boy Never Smiles. KimCop aren’t the longest running pair (MaxTul, BoomPeak, OffGun, and KarnNut trade that crown around) but they may now have the most BLs under their collective belts. 

New Thai BL from Uncommon Studio Midnight Fortune adapted from a Y-novel by wickedwish for 2023. The MDL and tag lines are bonkers so I’m not dignifying them here. 

Cutie Pie is getting a least one special episode, The Wedding, we assume. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting: Tomorrow Sept 25, 2022. 

ErthMix’s Cupid’s Last Wish special spin-off mini series Oishi advertisement Ep3 of Magic Of Zero: Zero Supporter on GMMTV’s YouTube. 

Male Entertainer (movie?) from Wayfilm, about a young man who works as an escort to support his family, on their YouTube channel (Trailer)

Monday Sept 26, 2022 

Ai Long Nhai (Thai Mon 10 eps iQIYI) About a man expelled from foreign university who returns to a Thai univ in disgrace and meets A Boy. Adapted from a y-novel, directed by Nob (La Cuisine, Gen Y). Secondary couple Nan & Sippakorn are IRL husbands Arm & Porsch (Together with Me). Familiar faces include Gun (Love Area’s Valen) and Jom (Nitiman’s Jin).

Ending: Vice Versa 

October line up coming soon, still waiting on distribution for some. 

This week’s best moments?

Heartbreaking but so good, My Only 12%. 

About Youth giving us a seriously classic old romance trope 1950s style. 

4th wall breaking snarky bestie in Work From Heart. 

And even more snarky queers. 

They were shiny crumbs in a sea of dull, Coffee Melody. 

This week’s worst fashion? 

OMG Work from Heart with the HELL? 

(last week)

Current earworm? Blackpink’s Shut Down  

[snitches-at-dawn]

draco fucking malfoy pt 2 || d.m.

a/n: thank you all so much for the gorgeous reception you gave part one of this fic- it honestly means the world to me.

this fic is a fair bit longer than the first part, mainly because i didn’t really want to drag this onto 3 or 4 parts.

this is specifically for the wonderful nonnie who asked me for a part two and a happy ending, i am sorry this is bittersweet instead of happy like you had requested. to make up for that, i’ll be posting a small happy alternative ending in a reply to your comment just for you titled “Draco Fucking Malfoy Pt 2 - Alternative Ending”

i finished it a bit early so i thought i’d post it now and the alt ending later around 1pm pst.

i hope you all like this and are safe, wherever you are. 

word count- 3.1k

part 1 to draco fucking malfoy

alternative ending

“nope. nope nope nope nope nope,” you said repeatedly to yourself as you continued pacing up and down your room, as if the combination of the words and actions could change the name on your left wrist. a soft knock on the door made you stop your pacing. you heard hermione’s excited voice float across, “(y/n), have you got a name yet?”

“fuck me,” you groaned and put your head in your hands wondering how harry would take this news. your best friend had a hard enough time adjusting to draco when you were dating, you had no idea how he’d take the news of having to deal with him for the rest of your lives. you remembered his reaction when you told him that draco had asked you out in your fourth year before the triwizard tournament.

~flashback~

“erm...harry?” you said nervously as you entered his dorm.

“i know, (y/n), i just need five minutes then we can go for dinner,” he replied as he rummaged through his trunk for something.

“not that,” you said, “can we talk?”

“sure,” he said distractedly, waving towards the foot of his bed indicating that you should take a seat, where you dutifully perched yourself.

“so erm, draco malfoy asked me out,” you rushed out, fiddling with the sleeve of your sweater.

“bit early for a hallowe’en prank isn’t it?” he laughed.

“harry. i’m not kidding. he asked me out,” you said more confidently this time.

harry stilled and then swivelled around to face you, “say that again.”

“draco asked me out.”

“are you having me on?” his voice was suspicious.

you shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ears so harry could look into your eyes and see that you weren’t joking and you repeated, “draco asked me out.”

“draco?” harry asked incredulously, “since when do we call malfoy ‘draco’? and what d’you mean he asked you out? why would he ask you out? you’ve never even spoken!”

“erm well actually, remember how last year you couldn’t come to hogsmeade,” you paused as he nodded, “well at some point it started snowing really hard i lost ron and hermione, so i went into madam puddifoot’s to find someone else to walk back with because the three broomsticks was empty, but draco was the only other student there. everyone else had left by then, i guess.

“well, we ended up walking back together and he told me he had been stood up by daphne greengrass. it was a bit awkward at first- i didn’t know how to comfort him really. he changed the topic soon enough to quidditch and he turned out to be nice and we got along well enough. then i started seeing him everywhere. he was talking to me at every party, sitting next to me in potions once in a while, walking down to care of magical creatures, that sort of thing. we sort of became... friends,” you trailed off as you saw harry wanted to speak.

“and how come neither of ron, hermione or i realised? i think we would have known if you were talking to someone we all hate- or hated in your case.”

“hermione did. she and i started spending alot of time together because of her fight with ron- that’s when we got close. she’s known about us since the first day we spoke actually- she’s been... surprisingly supportive. you were so preoccupied with the whole sirius situation you didn’t notice which was totally understandable of course and she agreed that telling you would only wind you up. ron... well- ron’s just always been a bit oblivious,” you answered.

harry grunted.

“right well, we just ended up spending alot of time together last year and wrote to each other a fair bit over the summer. at some point we started liking each other i guess,” you shrugged.

harry looked at you sharply, “you fancy him then?” to which you nodded.

“hang on- is that where you snuck off as soon as we got to the world cup campsite? when you showed up near the bulgarian’s site? the three of us reckoned you had got lost or something.”

“yeah, we had planned to meet up in front of his tent weeks before.” you said fondly, “that’s where he told me he fancies me and-”

“alright i don’t need to know if you snogged there,” he interrupted you hastily but your blush gave you away, “oh c’mon (y/n), you snogged him?”

“no,” you heatedly replied, “we just kissed.”

“you couldn’t have found any other boy, (y/n)? you have a line of boys who’d line up to date you. merlin’s sake you don’t even have to look outside my dorm- seamus and neville would kill for a shot at you.”

you scoffed, “they only like me because i play quidditch. draco,” you voice softened, “draco likes me for the music i listen to, my sarcasm, my horrid jokes and all the stuff that annoys most people.”

he sat down wearily next to you, “and you really like him?”

once again you nodded.

seeing he looked just as bewildered by your choice you said, “look it won’t be long. i’m a half blood. there’s no way his parents will let us date long once they find out.”

harry considered this for a moment. he sighed, “well, that’s true. go on then. he’d better treat you alright, (y/n). i’m not having him screwing with my best friend,” and he slung his arm around your shoulder.

“with any luck he’ll be screwing your best friend rather than screwing wit-”

“yeah just don’t tell me about your sex life alright?” he interrupted you again.

you hugged him hard, “thank you for understanding, harry. i know you can’t be too happy with your best friend crushing on someone you hate.”

he awkwardly patted your head in acknowledgment. 

hermione walked in to see you laughing at the pathetic irony of your situation. looking at you confused, “(y/n)? who is it?”

“draco fucking malfoy,” you mumbled from between your hands which covered your face.

“come again?”

you sighed and put your hands on the bed on either side of you.

“it’s draco,” you exhaled

hermione laughed too, “no really, who is it?”

resignedly you showed her your wrist. her face fell, “no.”

“my thoughts exactly. it’s like some kind of cosmic joke.”

“what are you going to do?” she asked.

“commit murder possibly,” you said marching out of your dorm and to harry’s ignoring her calling your name, presumably trying to talk some sense into you.

“the map. give me the map,” you snapped at harry once you had barged into his dorm, ignoring the other boys crowding around you asking who your soulmate was.

“why? who’s your soulmate?” harry asked.

you shoved your wrist under his nose. he stared in shock, “i don’t know whether to feel bad for you or laugh at you.”

“you’ll give me the fucking map unless you want me to hex you into next year.”

he produced the marauders’ map from the depths of his trunk which you snatched and proceeded to exit the room once again to the sound of your name.

“oi! (y/n)!)” harry called again jogging after you.

“what?”

“why d’you want the map?”

“i need to talk to him,” you replied.

harry nodded, understandingly but called after you when you had turned around.

“what?” you asked more irately this time.

he hesitated, “(y/n) don’t- don’t do anything stupid. as much as i’d love for you to hex him till his mum couldn’t recognise him-  he is your soulmate whether you like it or not. even though we all hate him, he’s who you’ll spend your life with. don’t say anything you’ll regret in the future.”

a small smile tugged at your lips, “i thought i was supposed to get wiser when i got older.”

turning you attention back to the map, you saw the little dot labelled ‘draco malfoy’ in the girl’s lavatory on the second floor and purposefully stalked out of the gryffindor tower to moaning myrtle’s bathroom, not even wondering why he was in the girl’s lavatory.

you didn’t even remember the walk down, just how blindingly angry you felt. angry at the universe. angry at harry for not stopping you from dating him two years ago. angry at draco for not telling you why he broke things off. angry at draco for being your soulmate. angry at... you weren’t angry at draco for being your soulmate. 

you saw a flash of platinum blonde hair in the mirror you stood in front of, and whirled around.

he was leaning against the wall behind you, watching you with calculating eyes as he tried to predict your next move.

your rage re-surfaced as you walked across the bathroom to him, shoes squelching and robes dragging in the standing water until you stood so close to him your noses were almost touching.

“you,” you said with as much disgust as you could muster in your voice.

“yes?” draco asked pleasantly as though you had said his name to get his attention.

“fix it.”

“fix what, darling?”

you stabbed your wand into his chest, “don’t you call me darling you prick.”

“alright. what d’you want me to fix?”

you had started to walk away from him but spun around at that question, “what d’you mean ‘what d’you want me to fix’?” for the third time that hour, you shoved your wrist under someone’s nose.

“this,” you hissed, “fix this.”

“and how can i fix this?” he asked, baring his own wrist to you.

something about seeing your name on his wrist made your anger concentrate into a tiny ball in the center of your chest, rather than the disorganised feeling you had earlier, and you felt your head clear a bit.

“there’s some kind of mistake. we’ll go to mcgonagall tomorrow and have her arrange for us to get to the ministry so we can get this sorted out,” you said in that same low voice you had used that night on the astronomy tower. your mind was racing as you muttered under your breath, trying to think of ways to break the bond you had forced on you.

“(y/n).”

your attention shifted to draco who was standing right next to you.

“(y/n), do you really think this is a mistake? i mean really? we were amazing together. yeah our parents didn’t like it, yeah we had alot of people talking about us, but that didn’t affect us,” he said. when you didn’t respond he continued, “we were good for each other. i calmed you down when your temper flared up. you’d keep me in check if i started bullying someone. we worked together to get better in our classes and it worked well. we made each other better in every way.”

“yeah we did work well, until you dumped me for no reason. it’s been three months and i still have no idea why you up and left. if things were as peachy as you make them sound, then why the fuck would you get out of the relationship?”

you didn’t know how to address him. ‘draco’ was too familiar and ‘malfoy’ was too distant.

he shrugged and returned to the wall he had been leaning against.

with the moonlight bouncing off his white hair, the water just covering the soles of his shoes and the way his robes were draped around him, he looked like some kind of ethereal spirit floating an inch above the ground.

you hated that.

draco seemed lost in his own thoughts, so you jerked him back to focus on you by snapping your fingers, “well?”

he laughed lowly, “you wouldn’t believe me if i told you, my darling.”

“try me.”

as he looked at you, you could see the cogs turning in his brain, considering your words and the ramifications of telling you whatever the reason was. 

the right cog must have clicked in place.

“promise me you won’t judge me.”

“no.”

“(y/n), i’m not kidding,” he said wearily.

“nor am i.”

in response to his silence you continued, “ i reserve the right to judge you after how you dumped me.”

his face contorted in anger. “fine,” he snapped, “fine.”

he moved towards you and wrenched up his left sleeve for you to see his arm. the dark mark. the dark mark ruining his alabaster skin.

“there. that’s why i broke up with you,” he spat.

his voice was deadly quiet and shaking.

“no,” you whispered, all the anger seeping out of your body. your hands grabbed his arm of your own volition and made as though they were trying to wipe off the mark as though it were drawn on.

it wasn’t.

“no, you’re just sixteen you aren’t even of age. there’s no way this is real,” the last sentence was posed more like a question which you looked at him to confirm.

he nodded, “it’s real.”

“did... were you forced?”

he extricated his arm from your grip and let his sleeve fall back down,  silently watched you, gauging your reaction.

“draco...” your voice trailed off. you had no idea what to say. or what you wanted to say.

after a few moments of silence he said, “i have to kill dumbledore.” his voice was quivering again.

you looked at him in abject horror.

“what?”

he nodded and leaned over the sink, choking out through sobs, “with dad in azkaban... he would have killed mum if i hadn’t take the mark when i did. i did what i had to. now i have to finish off the job and he’ll... he might spare mum.”

your mouth was agape, your brain sluggish.

“that’s why i broke up with you. i knew i’d have to take it over the summer. it was easier to have you hate me than love me; it wouldn’t make you a target.”

everything made sense now- why he looked so sleep deprived the week leading up to your break up, why he was so evasive and jumpy after the article in the daily prophet publicising his dad’s arrest.

you tentatively turned him around and when he didn’t resist, you reached out to touch his face. he leaned into the touch and you pulled him into you. your arms around his neck with his face buried in the crook of yours, this situation felt comfortingly familiar- at least it would have been if his shoulders weren’t shaking with silent sobs.

you couldn’t seem to feel any of the resentment that you had felt towards him for the last three months anymore as you stroked the nape of his neck in an attempt to calm him down. you just wanted to protect him. hide him from the cruel world and to let him breathe.

you guided him to the corner of the bathroom, drying the floor with a murmured incantation before sitting the both of you down.

“there’s going to be a war, (y/n),” draco said into your neck with his arms wrapped around your waist as you held him protectively.

“i know,” you whispered back.

“your side will lose, darling, he’s too strong. if you’re it for me, you’re the one i’m to be with, i need you alive after this war. hell, even if you weren’t it for me, i’d still ask you to come to his side.”

“draco,” you exhaled softly looking at him, “you know that isn’t possible. harry-” your voice trailed off.

what would you tell harry? would you tell him about draco’s mission? you shook your head. harry was a problem for later. right now, draco needed you.

“leave him,” he said hoarsely, gripping your wrists, “i know he’s your best friend but (y/n), you can’t die on me. i refuse to let that happen.”

“oh darling,” your voice broke as your stroked his face.

the both of you sat there, intertwined for a few silent seconds before you pulled draco against your front as you leaned against the wall.

“doesn’t this feel familiar?”

draco laughed softly, “i couldn’t count the number of nights we spent like this on the astronomy tower if i tried.”

“let’s be there then. let’s forget all the prophecy bullshit and who’s going to win the war. let’s be a couple of fifteen year olds again, yeah? fill me in on the last few months, sweetheart.”

“i don’t want to be fifteen again.”

you smiled internally that he was playing along with your ploy to distract him.

“alright,” you stroked his hair, “we can be sixteen in an alternate universe. we’re still together and we haven’t got our soulmate marks yet. how’s that?”

his nose wrinkled, “is that from the crap muggle book you tried getting me to read last year?”

“so you were listening to me!” you laughed.

“i always listened to you.”

“i’ll listen to you now. let’s be sixteen in an alternate universe with no war. tell me about your last three months, love.”

draco filled you in on the time you had spent apart, all the light and happy things- not the significant and dark stuff.

you were only half listening. your mind was in overdrive as you thought about how to extricate him from the mess he had been thrust into by his father’s incompetence to keep himself from getting caught by the ministry. 

maybe you’d convince draco to defect and to go to dumbledore for help. dumbledore wouldn’t turn him away.

if that didn’t work, you’d force him into hiding somewhere, somehow. if it meant using the imperius curse on him, so be it. he wasn’t having his soul ripped to pieces at sixteen. 

how had this happened? an hour ago you would have jumped at a chance to ridicule him, harm him - anything to make him feel the hurt you felt for three months. you had marched to him with the intent of somehow getting your soulmate changed, consequences be damned. now all you could think about was how cruel the world had been to the boy in your arms, how unfair it had been. how you were hell bent on being his safe haven and hopefully the answer to his problems.

“let me in, (y/n),” he said knocking on your temporal bone lightly, calling on an old inside joke you had of letting each other into your thoughts when lost in them.

“it’s nothing important,” you dropped a kiss on his head, laughing at the irony of how a week ago in a conversation with harry, ‘nothing important’ referred to him.

you pulled him closer to you and asked, “so what did narcissa say after that?”

as he continued his narration of a painful dinner he had had to sit through, you pushed every thought to the back of your mind.

reality was a problem for tomorrow.

right now was about draco.

draco fucking malfoy.

tag list-

@chaotic-fae-queen​

@champagneand-strawberries​

@booknerd-3000​

[therapy-ghost]

Hello there! I am super excited to do this so thank you!! Anyways here's my info and I apologize if this is super long.....I kinda rant sometimes haha....

Zodiac signs: Leo sun, Aries moon, Leo rising

Personality type: Entp

Pronouns: She/her

So lets see here a little bit about my appearance.....I am very petite and I won't lie i'm about 5'3.....maybe 5'4 on a good day. I also have thick brown hair that goes down to lower mid back and if you are ever around me you'll hear me get frustrated with my hair and i'll say something like "I AM GOING TO CUT OFF ALL OF MY HAIR, I SWEAR!" but for now I am keeping it how it is lmao. I also have brown eyes and lots of freckles on my face, my freckles are one of my most liked features about myself lol. Lastly for my style.....I have none. I like Adidas so I'll wear Adidas jackets and sports leggings and besides that I just wear normal t-shirts and what not lol. Although flannels....absolutely lovely. I love flannels and combat boots....

My personality can be a bit rocky at first. Sometimes I just won't like someone for no reason, I can't explain why but I just won't like them idk. But overall i'm an extrovert, I just dislike people sometimes lmao but nonetheless my social skills are fine and I make new friends ridiculously easy. I do have a resting bitch face though so it does make people nervous when first meeting me but I promise I am not that bad.

When you really get down to who I actually am I am a big asshole who just happens to be a big goofball as well. I am extremely sarcastic, almost to a fault and I will sometimes rag on people in a teasing way. I also do dumb stuff like climbing and falling out of trees, tripping over air, falling up the stairs, etc. Also being reckless doesn't help either. But I have a very strong "I don't care" attitude and I am very blunt and brash when I get angry or in general sometimes, I also struggle with emotions like I hate talking about feelings so I suck at that stuff. I also can not talk about my feelings like at all, i'll kinda hold it in all in and talking being vulnerable or talking about emotions make me anxious and super uncomfortable.

Weird things about me: I've grown up in the south all my life so sometimes when I talk a few words they'll come out sounding WAYYY more country and southern then I wanted, I don't have an accent but sometimes my words just come out that way. I also love the smell of cigarette smoke....let me explain. When I was a kid my parents smoked a lot and I was used to smelling it and now it reminds me of home and is sort of comforting. I also have lots of intrusive thoughts lol so sometimes i'll just be sitting there quietly and I'll just start laughing like a weirdo......i'm a big dork honestly. I also do that weird thing where i'm sitting down and I'll just be bouncing my leg....idk why I do it....I just do....and I also run my fingers through my hair a lot, thats why its always messy. Sometimes when i'm bored I space out and i'll chew on my lip or the side of gum...I need to stop I know but its hard to....

Things I like: I love swimming (I was on a swim team for about 10 years), I love horror movies, I like rain and the sounds of thunderstorms because its calming to me, I also love the smell of rain, I like cloudy days, cooking, listening to 90's rock or any like grunge or alt, My favorite bands are Bush, Audioslave, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Lincoln Park, Pearl jam, Deftones but i'm pretty open to anything. I also started taking martial arts so hehe that's kinda cool...I can do cool body locks and I know a lot of good pressure points to use against someone.

Things I dislike: Spiders.......I will scream if I see a spider....like seriously I will move to the moon if one touches me.

Ok lets screw shit up

For Resident evil 8, i match you up with:

Karl Heisenberg(Part 2)

I know ive done him before, and im doing him again

bad jokes back and forth, bet you taught him 'deez nuts' 'joe mama' and 'ligma' and you cant stop him.

Everyone in the house hates the two of you, but not to a point where their trying to break you two up, they just need no jokes.

he has now, in total, pulled 12 'deez nuts' jokes on Alcine alone.

he's also scared of spiders, so it will most likely be either one of the monsters, or you two have a rock-paper-scissors battle, he loses 95% of the times.

Accent duo.

For Marvel, i match you up with:

Bruce Baners

i dont know why, but i feel like a pillow/blanket pile is a must durring movies

both bruce and hulk love you and feel the need to have some sort of view on you.

big guy hardly shows up around you though cause you alway keep Bruce leveled.

he, 100%, likes audioslave and pearljam and he loves it even more when he listens to it with you.

And for Creepypasta, i match you up with:

Hoodie

just like bruce, pillow/blanket pile.

he will make fun of you accent sometimes.

you both will go out in the rain and he will record you.

you eat cheese cake durring the movies.

His fave horror movies are most likely black christmas, scream, and texas chainsaw massacre.

i see him as the type to randomly follow you like a puppy, either to make sure you arent doing dumb shit or just to be with you.

i hope you liked them, i read over your info, and it said you were petite, 5'3'' maybe 5'4'', and im like, am i that small, i understand that my little brother is almost taller then me and i have the smallest feet in my family but wow.

anyways, bye

[artb0t]

[ALT text for basic image I.D.s, full I.D.s for each page under the read more.]

Pure White, He’s Not Alright

Heh, so here’s the (prologue) comic for that au @dottilyn and I have been working on. the file name is “au meant to hurt you” and i hope it achieves that goal <3

Some minor ramblings under the image ids below the cut if you wanna know more!

[Page 1 - Split into 8 panels, three in the top and bottom rows with two in the center. The first three panels show a dark purple side table in the bottom left corner and a pale foot in the bottom right all in front of a dark grey wall. A phone with a pale pink case sits on top of the table. In the first panel the phone glows and text reads “buzz buzz” in orange. in panel 2 the phone is dark, as is the rest of the room. Panel three has the phone lit up again with the “Buzz Buzz” text. Panel four is an overhead of the phone so it can be read. It is at 3% battery, with a time of 3:46 AM. There are three visible notifications on the phone, one marked as new. The new one reads “Discord, today, 3:6 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Bro? Are you okay? Normally I’d hear back b-” before getting cut off. The two older messages read “Discord, yesterday, 3:14 PM. G.H.R.T.V. :Shouldn’t be an issue though, right?” and “Discord, yesterday, 10:21 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Speaking of -(cut off) -ip next week...” Panel five shows the same as panel four, but a pale hand is trying to activate the screen, blocking most of the text. Panels six to eight also show the same as panels one to three, but slightly more zoomed out with Benrey standing in frame, trying to use the phone. He is a pale man in a dark navy shirt, white shorts, and shoulder-length bed head, looking extremely sleepy, like the phone has woken him up. In panel six he’s saying “broooo..... stopppp buzzing.” In Panel seven, Benrey says “It’s too early” while yawning. There are little yawn bubbles around him, and his finger is overlaid through the phone, at a lighter opacity. In panel eight, Benrey has noticed his finger going through the phone with comically open eyes. The yawn bubbles have popped and he is saying “huh?”

Page 2 - This page has 3 small, vertical panels in the upper left corner, overlapping each other slightly while the other 3/4s of the page are one larger scene. In the first small panel, Benrey’s full body is shown and we can see he’s not wearing socks or shoes either as if he just crawled out of bed. He is grabbing the side table for support, and phasing his foot through the side of his Black Mesa Security helmet, which is sitting on the floor. The next is zoomed in slightly to cut off at his knees. This time, Benrey’s hand is going through the side table again, and he looks shocked. The text reads “....whu?” above his head. In the third panel, Benrey is turning away from the left towards the right with an extremely confused expression. The Final panel shows Benrey from the knees up, facing to the right past the viewer. The side table is beside him with the phone (buzzing again) on it as well as his work ID. Benrey’s vest is on a second, shorter side table. On a bed across from the side tables is a pale body. Only the lower legs are visibly, but it is the same skin colour and frame as Benrey himself. He’s looking distraught towards where the head of the body would be, out of frame.

Page 3 - This page has seven panels, split into three rows vertically. In panel one, Benrey is leaning down, looking over what is his body, lying on the bed and slightly blurred to look out of focus. He is shown from the shoulders up, extremely confused, and is saying “Bro, I’m supposed to be IN that.” In the second panel, Benrey has stoop up slightly and can now be seen from the waist up. He’s sticking one of his arms through the body towards the camera, even more concerned. “Why am I not IN that?” He’s asking. In panel three and four, the camera is placed behind the phone on the side table, viewing Benrey from behind. He’s still got his hand in the body, looking away, as the phone buzzes again. In Panel four, he’s turning to look over his shoulder at the phone. In panel five, we see over Benrey’s shoulder as he goes back to the phone. His face is not visible but he is sayin “Oh come on.” Panel six is a close up on the phone. We can see the time is now 3:48 AM, the battery is down to 2% and the new message reads “Discord, Today 3:48 AM. G.H.R.T.V. : Okay well -(cut off)- get back to me soon.” Panel seven, the final one, has a view looking up at Benrey who’s face is lit up from the glow of the phone. He looks quite distressed and is saying “please let this work.”

Page 4 - This page has four panels with images and an additional two with only text. The page has one Main panel, the last one, and everything else is set overtop of it. The first two panels are small, rectangular and floating near the top of the page, flanked by text in “Benrey Speech Blue” saying “no” repeatedly and getting larger each time. The first panel shows his hand almost touching the top of the phone from a dramatic side angle, as the phone gives a “Low Power” warning. The second is more zoomed in, and shows the phone screen shutting itself off. The third panel is wide horizontal on the next row down and we can see the top of the side table where the now off phone sits, Benrey from the waist up, and his body lying on the bed. Standing Benrey has a hand in his hair and his face all screwed up in distress. From this point to the bottom of the page, all the lines fade to white from black, and all of the colours fade to black. There is a smaller horizontal panel with only Benrey blue-text which vertically fades to white that says “NO” and a smaller box underneath that which says “... please”. The final panel shows Benrey leaning against the wall between the side tables and the bed with his body on it. He’s got his head against his knees with his arms wrapped around his legs.

END I.D.]

SO ! this is not a “benrey is a xen creature/experiment/glitch/game construct” au, there is no Res Cas, but there Is an experiment that brings our normal main cast together. We don’t have a full plot outlines, but we do have most of our setup figured out! 

Full time security guard, part time glitch-hunter, Mr. Benrey Benrey Benrey has been online friends with his favourite twitch speedrunner, GHRTV for a while now. They were planning on meeting up! Too bad Benrey can’t remember what happened in the last 48 hours, including what ... killed him. When he wakes up again, he’s back in his apartment, but things look different, and things keep getting more different as it turns out he’s been gone for a while. His apartment has been resold as “move in ready” to a recent PHD graduate moving across the country with his toddler son. And well, wouldn’t you know it’s (ex, now) speedrunner Gordon Freeman, finally getting a chance to use his scientific skills. 

Well... Benrey is dead, right? And he’s not sure why he’s still around (and he really doesn’t want to leave) but there’s nothing against having a little fun with his old best friend, right? And you know what, Gordon Freeman is a busy man and he could use some help having fun again. Either someone to help out with having a toddler, even if they can’t really touch him, or someone to just make him laugh again.

don’t worry, it’ll all work out :)

We’ve got ideas and scenes and goofs of all sorts but we have really been having fun coming up with ways to make this as found family as possible. Let everyone rely on and love each other! They deserve it! But also lots of Angst haha. Its basically us using a lot of ideas which would be really fun but are small on their own, and pushing them all together for the gay rights <3

[carlosgabrielruiz]

PINKERTON - 33 1/3 Proposal Part 6

CHAPTER 4 Many Rivers to Cross:A Brief History of Rivers Cuomo

For most people, Weezer begins and ends with Rivers Cuomo. Period. Point blank. Rivers Cuomo is undoubtedly the brains and heart behind the band – without him, there would simply be no Weezer. Rivers is the primary songwriter, lyricist, band director, and de facto Great Leader (although it should be noted that in the early days he shared some of those songwriting duties and credits with Matt Sharp and original guitarist Jason Cropper). 

Rivers was born in Manhattan on June 13, 1970. He grew up in upstate New York in the Buddhist Zen Center where his father was a farmer. In 1975, his father left the family and Rivers moved to Connecticut with his mother and brothers to live in Yogaville on an ashram farm.(1) He grew up as a quiet and shy child only later to become a metalhead with an outgoing love for Kiss and Van Halen.

When he turned 18 Rivers moved to L.A. and started to officially make a go of it in music. He got a job at Tower Records and was introduced to drummer Pat Wilson. (2) They became friends and formed a band called Fuzz. Rivers moved into Pat’s apartment which he shared with Matt Sharp, who was a talented multi-intrumentalist. Matt soon decided to join them and they embarked on an odyssey that would eventually make musical history. 

Valentine’s Day of 1992 was a momentous occasion for the newly formed, yet still-unnamed, new band because that was the day that Rivers Cuomo (lead guitar), Matt Sharp (bass), Jason Cropper (guitar), and Pat Wilson (drums) first gathered together to rehearse and record their sessions. The band “got together at T.K. rehearsal studios, in West LA, and rehearsed for either 3 or 4 days straight.”(3) The demo tape that was made during the session featured a list of all the potential band names they were toying with at the time including the initial band name “Fuzz”, as well as “Meathead”, “Outhouse”, “Hummingbird”, “the Big Jones” and “This Niblet”.

Things moved quickly for the band from there. A little over a year after their first official rehearsal, the band - now officially named Weezer - signed a major label record deal with Geffen Records. The band had hoped to self-produce their debut, but the suits at Geffen were not going to let that happen. Eventually, the band picked Cars’ frontman, Ric Ocasek, to handle production on the record. According to Rivers Cuomo, “The record company was really pushing us to work with a producer, so we figured that if we had to have somebody in the studio with us, it might as well just be someone who writes good songs – and the Cars’ first record just rules.” (4) 

The band went to Electric Ladyland studios in New York to work on their record. Everything was going great up until it wasn’t. There were internal problems with the guitarist Jason Cropper that led to Rivers firing him from the band. According to Ric Ocasek, “He (Rivers) called me when the record was finished, the day before we were supposed to start mixing, and said, ‘Listen, I just fired the guitar player.’ So I said, ‘What are you gonna do now?’ He’s like, ‘I want all of his parts off the record.’” Luerssen (2004)

With two days before mixing was due to begin in New York, Sharp and Cuomo called Brian Bell.5 He auditioned on tape and was hired to replace Jason. But it was too late to in the game to fly him out to re-record all of Jason’s guitar parts. Under the gun, and with only a day of studio time left before mixing was slated to begin, Rivers re-recorded all of the guitar parts himself (even though Brian is credited on the record).

The Blue Album was released on May 10th, 1994. The 10-track LP provided a “new roadmap for alt-rock following the death of Kurt Cobain and the conclusion of grunge’s first era.”(5) The catchy power-pop record with hook-laden choruses and kitschy Spike Jonze directed videos was an overwhelming success. It would invade the mainstream and go on to sell over 3 million records in the U.S. alone. The band went on a seemingly never-ending tour to promote the record. 

Rivers struggled with the newly found fame and success that the Blue Album had brought the band. He was “frustrated by the limitations of rock and the lifestyle of touring around on a bus and playing the same songs over and over.” Cohen (2015). So he did what most people in his position would do, he put the band on a hiatus and enrolled in Harvard to study classical music. 

But before the semester started, Rivers decided to fix his right leg, which was two inches shorter than his left leg. The surgery on his right leg left him in agonizing pain. It would be a long recovery. During his first year at Harvard Rivers’ right leg was encased in a metal frame that would require him to adjust and tighten the screws daily in order to elongate the bone.(6) He became hooked on painkillers and opioids while trying to manage the pain.

As he told The New York Times. “I grew a long beard and walked around with a cane… The only time I could write songs was when my frozen dinner was in the microwave.” Rockland (2006) “Where I was emotionally … I went to a more serious and dark place.” Runtagh (2019). 

Alone and in pain, Rivers was listening to a lot of classical music and he kept coming back to the opera Madame Butterfly by Puccini. “One of my favorite operas by him was Madama Butterfly, specifically when the role was played by Maria Callas,” he recalled to Pitchfork. “On tour, I would listen to her every night after the show and be so moved by the depth of emotion and sadness and tragedy. It really was calling to me, like, “Come on, Rivers. You can go there. You can go much further with your music than ‘The Sweater Song’ or ‘Buddy Holly’.” Cohen (2015)

His deeply personal and emotional lyrics were raw, to say the least. He opened himself up to a level of honesty, anger, pain, and emotional truth that was only hinted at within the Blue Album’s casual, ironic detachment. But make no mistake, that anger and honestly was always there just below the surface, only it was wrapped around a bouncy hook with a singalong chorus. 

With a dozen or more new songs ready to record, Weezer decided to head to the studio. Only this time, they would self produce the new record themselves. They wanted a feel that was similar to their live shows that would better capture the power and energy of their new songs. The resulting record was a “grittier, slightly darker sound that was more Pixies than the polished power-pop Ric Ocasek had helped the band realize on the Blue Album.” (7)

A few months before the album was slated for release, Rivers Cuomo “issued a precarious warning to the band’s fan club about his mental state during the writing process:” Braun (2016).

There are some lyrics on the album that you might think are mean or sexist. I will feel genuinely bad if anyone feels hurt by my lyrics but I really wanted these songs to be an exploration of my ‘dark side’ – all the parts of myself that I was either afraid or embarrassed to think about before. So there’s some pretty nasty stuff on there. 

You may be more willing to forgive the lyrics if you see them as passing low points in a larger story. And this album really is a story: the story of the last two years of my life. And as you’re probably well aware, these have been two very weird years.

But the worst was yet to come... TO BE CONTINUED IN THE 33 1/3 BOOK PINKERTON 

1 - Weezerpedia. Rivers Cuomo. https://www.weezerpedia.com/wiki/Rivers_Cuomo.

2 - Cohen, Ian. (2015, February 9). Rivers Cuomo. Pitchfork. https://pitchfork.com/features/5-10-15-20/9590-rivers-cuomo/.

3 - The Weezer Recording History. (2006, February). Weezer.com. http://www.weezer.com/info/recording/WeezRecHist3.htm.

4 - Luerssen, John D. (2004, August 1). River’s Edge: The Weezer Story. Toronto. ECW Press.

5 - Runtagh, Jordan. (2019, May 10). Weezer’s Blue Album: 10 Things You Didn’t Know. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-features/weezer-blue- album-rivers-cuomo-things-you-didnt-know-822881/.

6 - Rockland, Kate. (2006, February 16). At School with Rivers Cuomo: Student with a Past. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/16/garden/16weezer.html.

7 - Braun, Laura Marie. (2016, September 23). How Weezer’s ‘Pinkerton’ Went from Embarassing to Essential. Rolling Stone. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music- features/how-weezers-pinkerton-went-from-embarrassing-to-essential-105567/.

[aurorawest]

Hi! I’d love for a directors commentary on the real Asgardians of the galaxy, any section you choose, it’s my favourite story! Also I was wondering if you could do a commentary on chapter 7 of you come to me wild and wired please? Thank you!

Of course, thank you for asking! I’m so glad you like The Real Asgardians! 😄 I went with this section from chapter 25. Loki, Thor, and Mira have stopped on the Market Planet (aka Promachos), a place entirely of my own invention. Promachos is a planet that’s one giant, sprawling market. The section that the three of them visit looks very much like a souk in my head—I was definitely imagining the Arab Souk in Jerusalem as I was writing it. But you know, think the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, that sort of thing. Old, ancient feeling, labyrinthine covered market where it feels like you can get everything that’s ever existed.

In this conversation, Loki and Thor are having a nice conversation that turns sour, as they so often do.

“You know,” Thor said, the heavy-handed nonchalance in his voice sending up red flags, “that’s something New Asgard doesn’t have.”

“Children?” Loki said, playing dumb and immediately regretting it. 

Not really a reference, but this line has always reminded me of the exchange in Jurassic Park between Grant and Satler: “What are those?” “Small versions of adults, honey.”

Thanos hadn’t discriminated. He’d slaughtered Asgard’s children as easily as he had the adults. 

Womp womp. Seriously though, one of my favorite things to write with Loki is how he absolutely careens from one emotional end of the spectrum to the other. He makes this joke and he immediately jumps to the worst possible interpretation of it.

At least they’d managed to evacuate most of them, though Loki would never forgive himself for allowing a single Asgardian to die that day.

I recently had to put an exact number to how many children survived The Statesman. At this point I definitely was like, ‘eh, no idea!’

“No,” Thor said. “A school.”

“Mm.” Loki was getting increasingly worried that Mira was going to turn around and ask for the necklace. “What do they do, make repairs in the fishing nets because their fingers are smaller?”

This is one of my favorite jokes, actually. Loki is such an ass. There’s so much contempt packed into this sentence.

But more beyond that, his disdain for New Asgard is really important to his arc. We really see him lash out about it in this scene.

Thor glared at him. “No. They go to school. There just isn’t one in New Asgard.”

It couldn’t be overstated how uninterested Loki was in the education policies of New Asgard. Yes, his people lived there, but he had no personal stake or interest in the place. “Where do they go, then?”

Incidentally, I chose this scene because it seems kind of like a throwaway scene, like it’s more to express Loki’s distaste for New Asgard. And it is that...but it’s also got payoff down the line.

Uncertainty flickered over Thor’s face. “They go…I…er. I’m not exactly sure.” Loki didn’t push this issue. It was easy to imagine what had happened, anyway. The children would have been running wild in the months after the Snap. Brunnhilde, ruling New Asgard in all but name, would have gone to Thor, drunk, useless, drowning in depression and grief, and said something needed to be done, and he was the king, so what should they do? And Thor most likely would have slurred at her to figure it out. [...]

“I think they go to school in Tønsberg somewhere,” Thor finally said.

Thor kills me here. He’s pushing down every single bit of his regret and guilt. And Loki doesn’t get it at all. All he can do is snipe at Thor for screwing this up, for not taking charge, for not being the king that Loki thinks he should be. I’m actually enormously proud of “I think they go to school in Tønsberg somewhere,” because it says nothing...and also everything. Or at least, I hope it does.

Arching an eyebrow again, Loki said, “Oh. I see. So you’re raising humans.”

Loki gets none of this. All he can see is how much he doesn’t want to live on Earth, how much he doesn’t like New Asgard. He can’t fathom why the Asgardians would want to be there. It never occurs to him to stop and think about the fact that the Asgardians have been part of this community for six years. That they aren’t totally isolated from Norway or Earth. In Loki’s mind, New Asgard is like...kind of temporary? He can’t accept that it might be permanent.

“No,” Thor said, making a face as though this was the most stupid thing he’d heard in his whole life. “We’re not raising humans, I mean—not that I have a problem with humans, I love humans—”

Sometimes a little too much...but not in a creepy way, in a respectful way...

��As you’ve demonstrated,” Loki muttered, rolling his eyes. Not that he should talk.

Loki is consciously thinking of alt!Strange here, but of course...gosh he spent nine months living at the Sanctum and maybe he got close to one of its occupants...

“The point is,” Thor said, dropping all pretense of subtlety, “you’ve got some experience with it, and you should come back and—”

Thor takes a massive risk here and straight up asks Loki to come back to New Asgard. Not only that, but he’s asking Loki to come back to New Asgard and...open a school? This is the sort of thing that should thrill Loki. Thor is asking him to stick around! Thor is telling Loki that he wants him in New Asgard. And Loki...

Loki’s glare was poisonous enough that Thor took a step back. “No,” he hissed. “I will not.”

Loki doesn’t take kindly to it. Instead of seeing this moment for what it is, which is Thor reaching out to him, all Loki can see is this like, blaring red warning that he’s going to end up as something he Doesn’t Want To Be. And he doesn’t even really know what it is, right? He just hates what New Asgard symbolizes. He hates that he initiated Ragnarok, which necessitated New Asgard’s existence. He hates that New Asgard is so small, because of his own inability to protect his people from Thanos. He hates what Thor became in New Asgard. It’s really not even about New Asgard, it’s all of this other stuff.

Aaaaand chapter 7 of You Come to Me Wild and Wired!

So this was written for a @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt a couple weeks ago. The prompt was ‘broken windows.’ Their prompts are very very open ended, so I generally check them first thing on Friday morning and then let the day’s prompt rattle around in my brain until an idea occurs to me. With this one, I thought I could do something with the Oculus at the Sanctum being broken. I had also, a couple days before writing this, I had seen a reference to some sort of prompt for another ship about Stephen being angry, and I thought, you know what? It’s fun to write Stephen being angry. I should try that sometime! Broken Oculus means attack on the Sanctum, and I thought, what if Loki gets hurt in the course of that?

And to think, Loki was beginning to wonder if Strange ever got angry.

The idea of these fics is for them to be I think between 100-1000 words. This one was 1360, I believe, when I finished it? So I had to trim it down quite a bit (I eventually got it under 1100 but not quite down to 1000). The ‘And’ at the beginning of this sentence would have been an easy one to cut, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just loved it too much.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” 

I love writing sweary Stephen. I love it so much.

Strange’s hands shake as he pulls Loki’s torn sweater from the wound. One of the wounds. The sweater is ruined. Shame. Loki’s always liked it. Even without the damage, the blood stains will never come out.

I also love writing Loki being more concerned with his wardrobe than his own physical wellbeing.

Loki feels woozy. Strange’s question strikes him as funny. “I was thinking I wouldn’t get hurt.”

This is clearly not the answer Strange is looking for.

Loki finds that funny, too. “I’ll tell you what I wasn’t thinking—I wasn’t thinking I’d ruin my favorite sweater. Do you see this color? Really brings out my eyes, don’t you think?”

See when you’re bleeding out, you can say things like this.

Strange’s jaw clenches. His eyebrows draw together and his eyes narrow. He picks up a bottle and doesn’t bother blotting whatever’s inside onto a cloth—he just sloshes it over the gash on Loki’s stomach.

When Loki yelps, Strange says, “Oh, shut up. That’s not going to kill you. Which is more than I can say for the horde of demons you faced—on your own.”

Gritting his teeth against the sting of alcohol, Loki says, “Yes, but they didn’t kill me.” The wooziness is probably due to blood loss. His sweater isn’t just stained—it’s soaked with crimson. That’s all his blood. The demons’ blood was black.

I’m not actually a big fan of hurt/comfort when Loki is the one who’s hurt. When I’m going to hurt Loki—and I do—I prefer to do it with psychological and emotional torment. Physical pain? Honestly, it’s not that fun for me to write. Here’s the thing with Loki: he doesn’t care. Physical pain doesn’t frighten or even really bother him. He’s completely blasé about it. And in order for it to be dangerous to him, it has to be so bad that he’s passed out. Where’s the fun in a passed out Loki?

In general, I far prefer to put Loki in the comfort role, because it seems like it’s such an unnatural fit for him, and that’s way more fun to write about. I like to make my characters uncomfortable, haha. The two people that Loki is closest to in my verse, Thor and Stephen, are also really not the kind of people that want to show physical weakness. And Loki isn’t nurturing (well, he can be, but it’s buried deep down inside him), so like, it’s way more fun to have Thor be hurt and have Loki needing to feed him or whatever.

And I’m straying from this fic but this is the director’s cut, haha.

Strange doesn’t respond. At all. His hands can barely hold the—what is that? Oh, a bandage. He’s trying to bandage the wound, but he drops it because of his hands’ violent tremor.

Stephen’s hands shake more when he’s emotional.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Strange says as he picks up the alcohol again. He sounds like he might kill Loki himself.

“I’d rather not.”

At these words, which Loki delivers in a perfectly affable tone, 

This line just makes me laugh. Something about the word ‘affable.’ Loki’s so cheerful about his impending death.

Strange drops the bottle. It spills all over their shoes; splashes their pants. Loki’s legs sting as the alcohol soaks through his pants, so he knows he has open wounds there, too.

Trying to show, not tell.

Strange swears, a long string of profanity that penetrates Loki’s fog. He’s never heard Strange talk like this.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Odinson? Like seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Strange rakes a hand through his hair. Blood, Loki’s blood, smears his forehead. “You’re bleeding out. You’re gonna fucking die and you can’t swallow your goddamn motherfucking pride to let someone who can hold a fucking needle and thread stitch you up—”

The beauty of these little ficlets is I don’t have to come up with the whole long slowburn backstory or figure out too much about the characters’ arcs up until this point, but, I will say, I love to write a Stephen who has entirely come to terms with his disability and for him to actually be mad at Loki for not seeking treatment from someone who can actually help.

“This won’t kill me.” Loki considers. “Probably not, anyway. Though I don’t feel well.”

Strange looks like he’s going to scream.

Loki glances around. “Can you use superglue to close a wound? I’m sure I’ve heard Lang say that.”

It cracks me up to imagine Scott describing how like, one time at Baskin Robbins he cut himself on the soft serve machine or something, and he had to close it up with superglue. And that Loki feels this is an appropriate thing to say at this moment.

Strange stares, his eyes blue, then green, then this curious, almost colorless color. Colorless color. That doesn’t even make sense.

In my other fics I usually refer to this as ‘seaglass’ but I try not to be too repetitive.

Perhaps Strange is right. Perhaps Loki is in danger.

“Why would you do something so stupid?” Strange asks quietly. Loki expected more rage. Rage he can deal with. People are always angry at him. 

Lol come on I wrote this fic, you didn’t think there wouldn’t be angst in it, did you?

It’s funny, actually. Loki has always taken pleasure in getting a rise out of people. It’s easy. People are predictable.

Strange has never been predictable.

So Loki tells the truth. No snark. No sarcasm. “The Oculus was broken,” he says. “Broken windows aren’t a good sign. I thought you might be in danger.”

Sometimes, Loki fears he has become predictable. Didn’t Thor tell him so, once? But he can tell this is the last thing Strange expected to hear.

“I wanted to help you,” Loki adds for good measure. He feels light-headed. He probably wouldn’t say these things otherwise. Maybe it’s good, maybe it’s bad. Maybe it’s time he said this to Strange, to Stephen, whom he cares very much for, even if he pretends otherwise. He likes making Stephen angry by being difficult, by being intractable, by being an arse. He likes trying to get a reaction. He feels like he’s standing outside Strange’s window, throwing stones, trying to break the glass of his impenetrable, unruffle-able coolness.

As I write these ficlets, I find that I tend to start with a literal interpretation, and along the way, I find my way to these metaphors. They usually help me tie the fic together, too, so that it’s not just a collection of sentences but actually has a itty bitty plot and arc. I’m particularly proud of this one, I’ll be honest.

But Strange is immune to Loki.

It’s a bit of an act. Alright, it’s entirely an act. Loki isn’t good at seeking attention unless it’s negative.

My cat is also like this tbh.

“Did think maybe I had it under control?” Stephen runs his shaking fingers through his hair again. There’s red in the gray at his temples.

“I thought maybe you didn’t,” Loki replies.

Stephen covers his eyes with a hand. Bloody fingerprints mark where his fingertips rested when he moves it. 

I have a thing for my boys being covered in blood.

“Let me take you to the hospital.”

There’s something in Strange’s eyes. It looks like fear.

Strange’s hands shake more when he’s emotional.

Suddenly, Loki realizes Stephen has been putting on an act, too. He’s not cool and unruffled. He’s not immune to Loki.

Suddenly, Loki thinks Stephen might care more about him than he lets on.

Loki looks at his blood-soaked sweater. Considers how dizzy he feels. Ponders the fact that the shape of Stephen Strange’s lips is very attractive; the way his eyes change color with the light hypnotic.

Maybe it’s the blood loss. But he wouldn’t like to die without knowing how Stephen’s lips feel.

Aaaand there it is. So I’m a serious slow burn person, and that makes it hard for me to write these short little things. You’ll notice actually if you read them that there’s always all this unspoken backstory, like ‘they’d been working together for years...’ etc etc. But I always try to get that build even in these short little things, and if I can make myself go, AWWWWW then I’m happy.

“Alright,” Loki says. “I’ll go to the hospital.” He stands. There’s a rush in his ears. His legs feel like sodden paper. 

Stole this line from myself. I have a nearly identical simile in one of my original novels.

They buckle.

But Stephen is there, holding him, an arm tight around Loki’s waist. His hands may tremble, but he radiates safety and steadiness.

Safety is hugely important to Loki. He couldn’t ever fall in love with someone who didn’t make him feel safe, even though he probably wouldn’t admit that out loud.

A portal blooms, Metro-General Hospital on the other side. Stephen tucks a piece of hair behind Loki’s ear. “The sweater does bring out your eyes, by the way.”

Obligatory callback to the beginning of the fic. When I had Loki note that the sweater brings out his eyes, I knew that I would have Stephen agree at the end of the fic.

“Aha, you think about my eyes,” Loki says. It’s getting hard to hold his head up. Stephen guides him through the portal. “That means you think they’re pretty.”

“I think they’re gorgeous,” Stephen says. He hesitates. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

‘Gorgeous’ is my preferred word for Stephen to use to describe Loki. Loki tends more towards ‘beautiful’ to describe Stephen.

He lowers Loki to a chair. “Now sit here while I get help.”

Loki grabs Stephen’s wrist and lets his head fall against the wall. He peers at Stephen through slitted eyes, knowing he’ll survive this, because he’s survived worse. He still says, “I would kiss you, but I want something to look forward to if I don’t die.”

Emotions pass over Stephen’s face like the play of shadows on the ground as clouds scud across the sun. 

I love the word ‘scud’ but it’s definitely one of those ‘you only get to use this once in a fic’ type of words.

He swallows hard. “Yeah, well.” He squeezes Loki’s hand. “We’ll see how you feel after you’re patched up.”

Loki smiles and lets him go. He knows how he’ll feel. After all, he’s been throwing stones at the windows of Stephen’s heart.

He just never realized Stephen was throwing them back.

METAPHOR! The wonderful thing about finding the metaphor is that it’s a really easy way to end the fic. It’s the central theme, right, so you use the last line to tie into it, and done.

Thank you so so much for asking!

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

[drferox]

I should never have needed to type the phrase ‘Fascist Nazi Captain Planet RPer’ with my own two hands.

In light of the whole captain-planet-official nazi dogwhistles thing…

Doesn’t matter if they know what they’re doing or not (but they certainly do) or if they’re doing this ‘ironically’ (a cop out excuse to claim plausible deniability when they get called out) this fascist nazi Captain Planet blog is influencing its readers in a bad way, and you should be aware of how. Because honestly I’ve used some of those techniques too.

“But it’s all a joke!” No it’s not. It’s masquerading as a joke, hiding behind that claim if the heat gets too intense, but it’s not a joke.

Well, except maybe for the fact that the right wingers are laughing at you trying to figure it out, ‘getting confused’ or defending parts of what’s been said.

The short premise is that the more positively you feel about a personality on the internet, the more likely you are to agree with them, and the more likely you are to side with them on issues that you didn’t previously have an opinion on. At some point you file them away in your brain as ‘someone I agree with’ and use them as a shortcut for ‘If they said this, I agree with them’. It’s a very human thing, it’s why advertisers pay so much for celebrity endorsements.

So part of what this Nazi Captain Planet rper is/was doing (I can’t believe I typed that phrase with my own two hands, what even is 2019?) is making you feel attached to them, and partly it’s training your brain to accept and normalise their rhetoric.

So how does a blog set about accomplishing this?

Start with an easy one- giving you a nickname or term of endearment. It makes you feel special, and like you belong to something. They use Planeteers, I used Vetlings. People crave belonging.

Then have an approachable front: a much loved cartoon character. The trusted profession of veterinarian.

Now if you’re trying to do this deliberately, start getting people into a quick habit of agreeing with you. Pick neutral ground that’s hard to criticise - protecting the environment is good, don’t litter, we want good things for our pets, etc.

And once you’ve got people agreeing with you on multiple points in succession, it becomes easier to get them to agree with, or at least tolerate, the next point. Especially if you’re on a relatively unassuming blog about ‘saving the environment’ or animal health.

Did you ever try that trick as a kid where you ask someone to repeat the word ‘silk’ out loud ten times in a row, and then ask ‘what does a cow drink’? A bunch of them will automatically reply ‘milk’ instead of ���water’ because you primed their brain.

So you can use this repeated behavior to desensitise readers to an idea, get them used to agreeing with you, until you slip some things in which they might normally side-eye.

It’s making the brain practice how you want it to think before the main event. It’s showing your work so that other people can apply it to other situations. I’ve done it too, rather more unintentionally most of the time on this blog, though I use it when communicating directly with clients.

For example, in my writing I can lead you down the garden path of:

“Purebreds have problems because they haven’t had new genes introduced in generations”

> “mixing of breeds is a good thing”

> “breed purity is a bad thing, maybe not immediately but it is bad”.

Then I will often leave readers to make the last step on their own, because I trust they’re intelligent and reasonable, and a conclusion you reach yourself has more sticking power than any I just hand you.

So when you conclude “racial purity is a completely bullshit concept and detrimental to the health of those ‘races’, are Nazis actually trying to make us as screwed over as German Shepherds?” you will hold that opinion more strongly than if I just said it to you.

Similarly, a different blog leading you down the path of “Invasive species are a result of globalism and must be removed” with “there are three types of people: black, Jews and normal” is leading you towards the path of “blacks and Jews are not normal, they are invasive and we should remove them” and then that goes to “but humanely! We can humanely euthanize invasive species!” and I’m sure you can see where that is going. It also co-opts real conservation talk and terms, but it’s glossing over the fact it’s trying to get you to think about people this way, often with as much plausible deniability as they can muster. Throw the thoughts out there, see what sticks, then backtrack if it doesn’t work.

On that note of backtracking, this is where Dogwhistles come in.

A Dogwhistle is a phrase that on its own looks perfectly benign, or even makes sense in context, but has a specific meaning for a particular subgroup of people that change the context. Just like dog whistles are heard by dogs, but not by people.

A classic example is the phrase ‘family values’, which often means anti-LGBT+ in a Christian context even though it sounds like it should mean something supportive.

The Nazi and alt-right ones change periodically. From relatively old school ones like ‘14 words’, the number 88, and ‘final solution’, to more recent ones like putting names in (((brackets))), particular emojis and even ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’.

Yes, ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’ became a Nazi dogwhistle, regardless of whatever you might think of Pewdiepie. If it was thrown into a context where it didn’t necessarily seem to belong, it changed the meaning of those words. And if that person was called out on it, they’d backtrack and claim they simply liked the content. And the bigger the meme became, the easier it was for them to use.

Ah, you might think by now, but lots of people also use ‘Subscribe to Pewdiepie’, emojis and sentences with 14 words. And 88 is a perfectly ordinary number, a birth year even, there are times when it’s really just being used legitimately?

Of course there are. But when you start to see a lot of them together, it starts to look suspicious.

And if you are a minority regularly targeted by such a hateful group, it starts to look really very intimidating. So if everybody starts reblogging these dogwhistles from a colourful Captain Planet blog, it makes it look like there are far more Nazi supporters than anything else. And it isolates those minorities.

This is why it’s so insidious that they claimed something like Captain Planet - a character with significant nostalgia, a show with a pretty diverse group of main characters and a good message, and co-opted it into spreading these dogwhistles and priming unwary minds to think these rhetorics, these training ideas, are reasonable.

“But it was clearly a troll, lmfao!”

Oh hell no. These are real tactics. They will say it’s a joke, it’s trolling, or that you’re overreacting, but that’s part of the plan to seed these ideas. Don’t defend it. Don’t fall for it.

[the-world-of-jo]

Perseus Gambit - A Lancer TTRPG

A story I wrote for a game I play... It won't make much sense if you don't play, but I am actually proud of this piece, so. (And it's too big to put in our discord, so. >.>)

When you realize how serious things are, you aren’t prepared. As soon as Doc gives you permission, you zip into the medical wing to snag a slate, indicating you’ll be keeping it with you for a couple of days then head to your favorite reading spot in Hydroponics. It’s there the gravity of the situation hits you, and you slump back in your seat, shocked with a feeling of helplessness washing over you.

And then you realize, you’re a geneticist. This is your wheelhouse, you *know* how to repair something like this on a cellular level. And then you’re cancelling your counseling session for that afternoon, promising to circle back with her to reschedule as you head back to the labs.

You manage to avoid her for about a month before Dr. Marchand shows up in front of you. Coincidently, you’re coming out of Noah’s quarters and it’s first thing in the morning, so you have a feeling you’ve been ratted out. You give Sparky a healthy dose of side eye, but you can’t help but spare a bit for Noah as well.

They both look way too innocent for your liking.

*_*_*

You have no fucking idea how to fix this. Not a single one.

Every sim you run comes back not only with bad results, but with *fatal* results. There are over 150,000 genes in a single human, and only 5% of them on average are coded. The Kennedy’s seem to have an additional 3%, all of those enhancing their strength, speed, sight, hearing, smell…

They were also disease resistant, so whatever was affecting Elias was almost absolutely genetic. But Doc had that much figured out.

The jarring ***”BONG”*** of another failed sim is followed in rapid succession by three more, and you sigh and close your eyes for a moment. Then, you get back to work, filing away the results and setting up new sims.

There was still time. Not a lot, but you intended to make the most of it. You ‘steal’ a few other unused computers and begin running sims on those, corralling a few sub alts to move them into what’s been coined as “Lee’s Area”. Someone even made a little paper sign and it made you chuckle.

You sat back and logged into a ninth research station, beginning to look up any new research methods or new genetic information that might have come available since you left Union Space.

It doesn’t surprise you that what you and Doc have been doing is light years beyond anything you find in published works.

*_*_*

The clock in your head is making ‘tick-tock’ noises at random times, and you know it’s an auditory hallucination, but god fucking damnit it needs to quit. You make sure to keep this away from both Drs. Marchand and Lakani, and for the most part, you succeed.

But now, signs of degradation are showing up in Noah. ***Your*** Noah.

You begin snagging more computers as they sit idle. One sub-alt has been stationed near your area for a couple of weeks now since you always seem to request him. Yes, him. You’ve named him Bruce, after Bruce Banner. It’s a nerd joke and it makes you smile, but nobody else seems to understand.

That’s okay though.

Doc tried banning you from the labs until you got some decent rest and food. And you tried, you really did, but.

In less than two hours, you were moving through the ducts, army crawling at times. You pulled a screwdriver out of your back pocket and undid the screws holding a grate in place, and moving it aside you dropped gracefully into the middle of your area.

Right in front of Doc.

Nodding at him in greeting, you pulled a sandwich and a bottle of Galaxy Dew from your backpack and set it at your research desk, then sat your butt down and resumed working. You left your slate on it’s home screen purposefully since your background was a picture of Noah holding Sparky (that you’d taken with permission).

Doc didn’t miss the gesture and instead of ordering you back out, he had Raum lift the restrictions on you and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

You hear the doors whoosh open and in trots Sparky, a bag of granola and a bag of trailmix held in his mouth. He puts his paws on your knee and looks hopeful that his offering will be accepted. You can’t help but smile and pet him gently. “Thanks for the snacks buddy. I forgot to get dessert.”

Sparky looks quite happy as you add the baggies next to your sandwich.

You do actually eat everything.

*_*_*

Eventually though, one night, while you’re alone in the labs, the last ***”BONG”*** still fresh in your mind, you look up at the ceiling and ask Raum for help. You just need a direction, to know *where* to look. This random shooting in the dark bull shit is getting everyone nowhere and fast.

In your experience, ‘mad scientist’ types have a signature, a way they do things or a way they code things. You’ve been able to figure out which high profile geneticist has written a certain piece in journals, not by their wording but by their projects, and you can’t think of anyone more infamous than Cyrus Jacobi.

Or, as the medical world knew him - Josef Mengele.

If anyone from HA had even mentioned him, and that person had anything to do with their cloning programs, it’d at least, at the ***very least*** point you in a direction, because mad scientist types had a signature, and they liked paying homage to their heroes.

And then one day, Tane asks you “If you could have anything…”

And you tell him. You give him a laundry list of things that could assist you, and you realize if this information ever got into your hands, you’d be very very close to being arrested and tossed in the brig for *life*.

You think *Three squares a day, an actual bed to sleep on...If I handled Milaniko for ten years, I can handle that for life.*

And you wait.

***”BONG, BONG, BONG”***

The sound begins to haunt your dreams.

*_*_*

Noah is the only one who can coax you out, and he does so every day to have dinner with you and make sure you get some rest after.

The guilt gnaws at you when you slip out of bed well before your alarm goes off, and head toward the labs. But time is running out, and that fucking clock is getting louder and louder. It doesn’t matter that people are staring at you, and the fact that your clothes are pretty damn loose doesn’t matter either.

Your nutritional profile has been met each and every day thanks to protein shakes and bars, and Sparky is...suspicious. He’s not advanced enough to know you’re effectively working the system, but he knows *something* is not right. In his view, you should not be losing weight.

Well. You are. But it can be remedied once you figure this shit out.

Doc has been forcing you to take breaks, just for an hour. When your schedules align (and they do at least once a day and you know Doc is doing that on purpose and you love him for it), you spend the time with Noah in his office, grabbing a snack or dozing in one of the extra chairs.

The times you don’t line up with Noah, you head to the mech bay and straight to Beauty, always bringing an offering of donuts or some type of potato dish. Opal is kind enough to not turn you away, Beauty’s hand lowering to lift you up to the cockpit. You’re always sure to thank Beauty, then you sit next to Opal, your offering balancing on both your knee and hers.

She doesn’t question you, doesn’t make you talk, doesn’t comment when you know you’re muttering out loud. Sometimes she leans against you, her shoulder offering quiet support and those are the hardest times, when you have to clench your jaw shut to keep from openly sobbing and admitting how scared you are. How you’re not sure if you can figure this puzzle out, and as a result of your own incompetence you stand to lose not only a dear friend, but the love of your life.

You have a feeling she knows what thoughts run through your head, and you’re grateful that she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t even comment on the tears that track down your cheeks only to fall from your chin.

You are so, so grateful for that, and you somehow draw strength from sitting with her.

It’s enough that you can head back into the lab yet again.

*_*_*

The next time the Dvorak drops out of near light, you’ve all but moved into the labs. You don’t notice the whoosh of the doors opening at first, but that’s because you’re all but actually absorbing the data on one of the doctors involved with HA cloning, who did indeed cite Jacobi as an amazing scientist.

When the sub-alt rolls up, you mistake it for Bruce, but then Raum’s voice is piped into your brain via your shunt.

A gift. From Tane.

You look at the isolated slate, then take it from the alt, thanking Raum profusely. You stare at it for a moment, the device seeming so small in your hands.

You rip the privacy screen from your own slate (and you may have actually broken the screen - Marcus will be pissed if he has to replace another one) and slap it onto the new one and begin devouring the information. There’s so much here, too much, enough that you have to ask Raum to help you sift through it all.

But...but...when he flags pages he thinks you need, your heart races.

Schematics. Not of the Kennedys, but of prior models.

Maintenance records, upkeep recommendations. Nutritional requirements, formulae for a metabolic stabilizer…

And then you see it. Written by the doctor who quoted Jacobi.

***Genetic coding information***.

You rip through the document and as you read, you begin to babble.

“Jesus fuck, it’s in the junk. They actually put it in the junk DNA, where nobody would fucking think. We need to change everything, absolutely everything, did he work on the...Ken...He did, he fucking did, he worked on the Kennedys, okay, so if that’s the case I’m betting he put them in the same places but there’s probably different locks, different fail safes but if we find one we can tweak it to fit other locks and we need to rethink everything christ we don’t have enough *time* and -”

Hands on your shoulder make you look up, and instinctively you pull the slate against your chest, protecting it. Raum has gone quiet in your mind.

“My boy,” Doc says. “You’re speaking in tongues.”

“We need to change where we look,” you blurt out. “They put the locks in the junk DNA. We need to change course, we need more computers, we need -”

“What? Brawley…” Doc’s eyes stray to the slate and you pull it closer to your chest. He knows there’s something on there that you shouldn’t have and he’s silent for a moment.

“Are you sure?” he asks, shaking you just a bit for emphasis.

“Yes.” Your voice doesn’t waiver.

He nods, then turns from you and begins barking out orders to other assistants and all the screens go black. It takes but a moment for them to reboot, blank screens ready for new directives.

You log into each one individually and set up sims, directing the machines to paw through almost 125,000 pieces of DNA.

You still need more machines.

*_*_*

A few days later you zip into the lab only to find your area almost empty. Your heart lurches from your chest into your throat, but Doc is there, turning you to the right and giving you a nudge forward.

There’s a new section in the lab. Huge, with bright lights, tons of computer banks, frosted windows and a door with a keypad and retina scanner for entry. And the name plaque reads “Brawley Stonehurst”

You pause only enough to look back at Doc and offer him a grin, but then you’re rushing forward, Sparky right behind you, the door opening with a quiet whoosh. There’re more computers than you’ve ever dared ‘steal’ on the main floor, but you quickly commandeer each and every one, setting them up for various sims.

The grating ***”BONG”*** is still the sound you’re constantly hearing.

*_*_*

It’s been a bad day. There’s talk of ventilation for Elias, and he really needs to come off of active duty, but he’s fighting tooth and nail to remain.

Noah hasn’t been able to really lead his classes, nor has he been able to spar with Masek at the level they’re both used to. Sparky has taken it upon himself to spend most of his time with Noah. When he asks you if this is acceptable, you say it is and rearrange his priorities to put Noah first and yourself second.

Doc finds out and he’s in your office questioning the decision, pointing out that Noah and Elias aren’t the only ones deteriorating, and you’re about to call him out on the pot calling the kettle black, but…

But…

***”BING”***

You both stop, staring at each other, and it takes you almost a solid minute to realize one of the sims has finished.

And the text, it’s not *green*, it’s not a *success*, but it’s...not a critical fail. The text is yellow, telling you that you’re on the right track but you need to tweak things and you can do that, the data is promising and you look at Doc and you can feel yourself grinning and -

***”chime”***

Again, you both stop and you know your eyes are huge, you know this because his are as well. It doesn’t take nearly as long for you to begin looking around frantically -

***”chime”.......”chime”......”chime”***

One by one, five different screens light up with green text.

*_*_*

Dr. Anath Lakani is fucking amazing. There’s a reason you’ve been starry eyed since he said he’d take you on as a resident. Your mind is quick, and you know this, but his…

Christ on a cracker, watching that man work is breathtaking for a science nerd like you.

He takes your findings and spins the results into formulae and then spins those into an actual therapy faster than anything you’ve ever seen. And you watch, because this is porn for you, this creating something to save a life from numbers and codes and this and that. In theory, you can do this as well, but not this quickly.

Doc’s skills come from years of experience, and you are nothing short of a captive audience.

Arrangements are made to have Elias come in the very next morning and he’s agreeable. His words were something along the lines of “What have I got to lose?”, and that just…

Your breath leaves you as if you were punched in the gut, and *gods*...

“Please let this work,” you whisper to yourself as you head home.

To Noah. Who is resting in his quarters and only quirks a brow as he looks up from his slate when you come in, then lean back against the door, just looking at him.

He’s pale, too pale, with shadows under his eyes. And you’re not sure if it’s fact or if it’s your mind playing tricks on you, but his cheekbones seem even more pronounced today than they did yesterday.

“It’s early,” he murmurs, and it is, not even gone 20:00 yet. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” you say, your voice coming out in a whisper. “I wanted...shower,” you finish lamely.

Legally, you can’t tell him. This is Elias’ business, not Noah’s.

But there’s that soft smile, the one that’s just for you. “Go on then,” he says. “I’ll have a sub alt bring something from the mess.”

“You gonna eat too?”

“I’ll have something.”

He knows you’ll pester him. Even though he really doesn’t have much of an appetite.

While in the shower, you think about the sims running for Noah’s treatment. You’re jumping the gun, but Elias’ is almost completely mapped out, with only one part of the therapy being in question. In theory, even if that fails, the results will tell you and Doc where to go next, but that clock is still ticking, loud as ever.

You must have been in there a lot longer than you thought, because the next thing you know Sparky’s sitting outside the shower stall looking up at you. Once he sees he has your attention, he sends a query, checking on you.

*Just lost in thought,* you reply.

*Supper is here! KenKen has lounge coverings waiting for you. They are nice and warm!* And with that, Sparky dashes out of the bathroom.

After drying off, going out to get dressed (and you don’t miss the appraising look Noah gives you, but you ignore it because no, you don’t look your best and you realize this but that’s not what he’s concerned about) and eating, you curl up with him, your head on his shoulder.

It’s quiet in a way that ships are, which is to say it’s not *really* quiet, but there’s no voices, no computers, no bonks or bings or chimes or anything. Just the sound of Noah breathing, and if you hold your breath, his heart beat.

“Elias is starting a new therapy in the morning,” you whisper and you feel Noah go still against you. “The projected success rate of the first two rounds is 98%, but the third is hovering around 80%. Even if the third is a failure, we’ll know by the results which way to go. Doc is prepping the bases tonight and tomorrow, but it’s still going to be close, I think. Depends if it fails if it causes any domino effects.”

He’s staring at you now, so you continue.

“I’m running your sims in my office, and two have finished. They weren’t successful, but they weren’t failures. I’m going off the assumption that since you and Elias are from the same...batch,” (that term burns in your throat) “that you’ll need similar therapies.”

“How,” Noah starts, his voice raspy. He clears his throat, then resumes. “How did you…?’ He can’t finish the question, and you don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t know what to ask or if it’s because he can’t ask, but you look up at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you whisper. He’s head of security, and even if this would save his life, he would be duty bound.

His eyes leave you and move to your backpack, the forbidden slate hidden inside. He’d seen it, before, noticed it wasn’t yours or one from medical and asked about it. You’d pretended not to hear him, raising your head and blinking, bleary eyed (that wasn’t a lie, at least).

*Raum,* you send out over the comms and his reply is almost instant.

*Taken care of.*

You know the next time you pick the slate up, it’ll be blank. But that’s okay. You also know the information is someplace safe, and all you have to do is ask Raum in order to access it.

When Noah’s eyes return to you, you’re already asleep, curled protectively around him.

*_*_*

When Elias’s third round fails, it is almost catastrophic and both you and Doc are scrambling to keep him stable until the last formulae can be finished. The two of you work well together, both talking over each other and accessing various machines via your neural connections. Nobody will be able to convince you that was the only reason Elias was stabilized as quickly as he had been - while neither of you is super humanly fast, you’re faster than the average person and with both of you working, it’s...harrowing, but it could have been worse.

Much, much worse.

But, the now fourth round is administered and it works, it works so beautifully. Further degradation is essentially halted, or at the very least slowed to a crawl and not only that, but Elias’ body can begin repairs. His stem cells are fine, and with that vital system working as intended, modern medicine only needs to give his respiratory and cardiac systems a boost to get healing started.

Noah’s therapies go so much smoother, and you feel a little guilty for that. Elias doesn’t give a fuck, and the day he’s taken off his oxygen feed his smile stretches from ear to ear.

Noah wears one similar to it, and you finally know what people mean when they say their hearts are so full that they’re bursting.

Physical therapy is something Elias is eager to start, and you’ve got your hands in that as well because you cannot and will not leave either of these men alone it seems. But in this case, it’s not a bad thing because while you’re in the gym with Elias, you’re working on your own fitness regimen as well.

His upper body strength comes back slowly, but his lower body is a bit slower still, if only because he’d been in a wheelchair for an extended period of time. Hydro therapy was a thing for a while, but eventually, Elias began trying to stand.

You’re hella impressed at his determination, and his positive attitude makes you smile. You’re there with him when he stands on his own for the first time, the sub alt holding his chair steady in case he needs to sit back down quickly. You’re aware Cap is in the room as well, but your attention is solely on Elias. It’s a bit of a struggle, and his face is flushed and his breathing slightly labored (his oxygen saturation is at 98%, so you’re not in the least bit worried), but eventually, he’s standing. He takes a breath, finds his balance, and lets go of the supports.

His legs don’t buckle. He looks down as if he’s having trouble believing it, then he looks up at you and grins that infectious grin and you can’t help but smile back.

Then you notice Cap, who’s watching, and you’re not sure, but his eyes look suspiciously bright. He looks to you and nods with a smile, and you look back to Elias and move to help him sit back down, then step away as father and son have a moment, Cap moving closer and speaking softly to Elias.

*_*_*

You’re sitting with the entire group, including Noah (because you asked him to come have dinner and he said yes because he loves you and he also loves Masek’s cooking because who does NOT love Masek’s cooking???) when the alert chimes at the door. It takes a minute for it to open, but when it does, Elias is standing there, grinning, and he walks in under his own power.

That night, the only sound haunting your dreams is laughter and you’ve never slept better in your life.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw!  Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi.  Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it?  Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph.  Is that gonna be important later?  If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear--  ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best.  Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!?  --Oh right.  The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird.  Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately.  Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!?  --Of course you’re attacking.  You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country!  Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures.  With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she?  And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing??  I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket.  (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click.  (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid?  GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members.  She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she?  Not even hear herself.  And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching.  They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click.  This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan.  (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.)  When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row.  It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”.  It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious.  (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just.  I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen?  Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE.  --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though.  Still.  If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane?  You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away.  Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you.  (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8.  <3

[missbeautyandherbeast]

Afterglow

Donatello X Reader

Summary: Request: Matchup alt: @boatloadsofheart​ Based on Taylor Swift’s Afterglow 

A/N: Okay, so the lovely @boatloadsofheart​ requested a match up but we both know who I would pair them with so I asked if they’d prefer a one-shot instead with said turtle and any requests they had for a plot and well here it is! It is shorter than I normally do, I think. My anxiety is telling me it’s too short but that might just be my anxiety. 

“I can’t believe that you would do that!” I screamed pacing the floor. “How dare you!?”

“I was trying to help you,” He tried, flinching away from my yelling.

He had never seen me yell before. I rarely did. But this had set me off.

“Help me!? You thought that that would help!?” I nearly screeched. “What were you thinking!?” He stood and squared his shoulders.

“I was trying to help you! You told me that you were afraid! That you were scared and alone! What was I supposed to do!? Wait until the day that you didn’t come back because it was so bad!?” There was worry and fear in his voice with tears in his eyes.

“I told you that because I trusted you not to tell anyone! Because I needed someone to confide in! I didn’t want help! I don’t need help! And I definitely don’t need yours!”

He threw his hands up in frustration.

“That’s what people do Y/n! When they know something is wrong they try to help!”

I tilted my chin back, tears streaking down my cheeks.

“I don’t want your help.” I seethed; my voice dangerously low. “So stop trying. I’m done.” 

“Y/n,” He backed down, frozen in fear. “You... you don’t mean that...”

I shook my head, denying his statement.

“Goodbye Donatello.”

And I walked out. Into the night.

______________________________________________

It took an hour to break down in tears.

A night to miss him beside me.

A day to realize that I was wrong about what I did.

A minute more to make my way back.

____________________________________________

He was exactly where I knew he would be. In his lab, hunched over a project. I knocked on the door frame cautiously.

“I know what you’re going to say,” He didn’t even turn around to talk to me. I barely heard his voice. “And I understand.”

I sagged in relief. I was glad that he understood that I blew things out of proportion. But he didn’t perk up, and that worried me. It was excruciating to see him like this, so low. I began to think that we weren’t thinking about the same thing.

“Don,” I hesitantly asked. “What...?”

“You want to leave me, don’t you?” He still didn’t turn around. The weight in his voice weighed on my soul.

“No!” I gasped, my heart sinking. “Why would I ever...?”

“Because I screwed this up. I overstepped. And... and you don’t want me, because you can’t trust me.” He turned this time, barely meeting my eyes.

No, God no, Donnie,” I went to him and knelt on the ground. “It was all me, in my head. I did this. I burned this down,” Tears were in my eyes. “And I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He shook his head, but I didn’t let him speak. I was terrified that he was going to make it final before I could fix it.

Why did I have to break what I loved so much?

“Please,” My voice broke. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to lose this... I can’t lose this... I can’t lose you, Don...” Tears were falling down my cheeks. “Please,”

His hand came up and stroked my hair, cupping my cheek. My heart pounded out of my chest. He had every right to leave me, to let me go. I screwed up so bad and he... he had power over me. A power that I had given him then freaked out when I realized. And I took it out on him. And it wasn’t fair. He didn’t do it. I did.

“You’re not leaving?” He almost wanted to be hopeful, I could see it in his eyes.

“No, no I.. no.” I shook my head on the verge of sobbing, “Unless you want me to.” I cried out. “Then I’ll go... but please, please tell me that you’re still mine... that we’ll be okay,” I begged.

He was still silent, and I was frozen, petrified. Somehow I still managed to talk (babble).

“Tell me it wasn’t my fault,” I cried. “Tell me you still want me, even though I hurt you, please, God please Donnie. Don’t go... don’t go, don’t go...” I was hyperventilating and hiccupping through tears. “It was me; it was all me, Donnie, please,”

I covered my face with my hands, crying, my heart breaking, the pieces falling through my tears. I tried to catch them in my hands.

He ever so gently took my wrists and parted them, revealing my face. He then brushed away my tears, picking up the broken pieces of my heart.

“We’re gonna be just fine,” He whispered through tears.

I sagged in relief and started crying again, for a new reason, I was relieved, and happy, and I felt safe.

He stood and helped me up from the floor, pulling me into his arms in a tight warm hug. It was as if he were afraid to let me go, that I would disappear if he did.

I wasn’t going anywhere though.

We stayed like that for quite some time, basking in the afterglow.

_____________________________________________________________

PSA: Readz and Donnie get into a fight about something deep and dark (either depression or domestic abuse), and I was going to specify but didn’t. Readz just gets mad because Donnie tried to help (however that look like for whatever situation that you want to project here) and she gets seriously pissed.

That being said, I know it’s scary when people help without your permission, but it shows worry and love and they are genuinely trying to help, no matter how it looks to you. I know “help” seems scary when you think that you’re fine, but you might not be. It’s okay to get mad, but make amends.

On that same note, work with the person to help them, don’t go WAY over their head. Unless they plan on doing harm to themselves or others, or if someone is hurting them or others.

Love you guys. Stay safe and always keep fighting.

[ask-de-writer]

Genii’s Junk (1 part) – A tale of the Bizarre Borderland

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

GENII’S JUNK

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

© 2014 by Glen Ten-Eyck

2581 words

Writing begun 06/19/14

From an idea by Alte Seely, who wondered what a Bizarre Borderland junk yard would be like.

All rights reserved. This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of fan activity including but not limited to art, stories, musical compositions, plays or anything else is ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED.

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There were a few old, gnarled trees out in front. The building itself was totally unremarkable. Just an old, cheap sheet metal structure. The peeling, sun-faded sign read “Genii’s Junk – Worth anything or not, I buy it or sell it. If you need it, I have it. But it may need work!”

I parked in the shade of one of the trees and strolled into the slight gloom of the cool interior. There were dozens of racks holding the multitude of things that Genii wanted to keep out of the weather. The sun in Border County is infamous for destroying anything that it shines on, if it shines long enough.

It had obviously not shone on Genii enough to do any harm! Lovely young looking lady. Appearances are deceiving. She is lovely enough to look at, yes. Young? Define your terms. I know for a fact that she helped to found the Ottoman Empire. Lady? Try calling her human if you want an earfull of excellent profanity without a single sleazy four letter word.

Like everyone in North or South America, if you trace back far enough, there are immigrants in the woodwork. Genii is one, sort of. She has been in the same location since at least 1530. That is the year, not the time on a 24 hour clock.

She told me herself that Cortez was one cranky customer.

Today, there was a slight individual with a large head hidden by a bigger hat at the counter. Genii had the oscilloscope and a big, hundred function multimeter out on the counter and three big power leads with clamps and adapters.

A long, too many jointed finger pointed at a stud on the device sitting on the counter. His (?) somewhat squeaky voice demanded, “Positive One go here! Not over there, stupid human!”

Genii’s lovely face curled into a snarl, showing her many fangs. “Watch who you call HUMAN, you gray trash!”

Settling some, she explained patiently, as if to a retarded three year old, “This is the anti-gee element of a 1942 Star Sweeper. From 1951 on, you are right. For any earlier models, if you want to do that test hookup, put your gold on the counter now. You will not be alive to give it to me later but you WILL have destroyed the unit.

“This is from one of the two that US Airforce took down outside of Roswell in 1947.” She turned to a LONG shelf of manuals and other books that sat on top of the massive number of scroll pigeon holes. Taking down a much thumbed manual, she expertly flipped through pages and pointed to a picture for the customer.

“There. Manufacturer’s Manual for the 1942 Star Sweeper. Hookup diagram and warnings…” The Gray examined the manual in something like shock.

“Where you get this? I give you two pound gold for it.”

With a sour expression Genii pointed over her shoulder at a sign in at least a hundred languages. One of them was the same as the one in the book. It read, “NO WRITTEN MATERIALS FOR SALE AT ANY PRICE!”

He (?) started to say something more, while trying to put the manual under his (?) coat. Genii, with a disgusted look, leaped over the counter like an acrobat. She hit the customer with both feet at shoulder level, flattening him (?). She took back the manual and hopped back across the counter to put it away.

She also took the device off the counter and lifted the oscilloscope back to its rack of test equipment.

The test leads and other gear went neatly back to their places. Brightening, she turned to me.

“What can I do for you today, Jimmy?”

Flipply I replied, “You could sell me your bottle, my dear, but I have heard a rumor that your personal home is not for sale.

“Actually, I was looking for a carpet. Something that isn’t a Belgian knock-off of a real carpet.”

Lighting up, she asked, “Hand loomed and knotted or machine made?”

“Hand knotted, I think, Genii.”

“What about a dubious one? I have one out on Aisle 34, about a four or five hundred yards down. I’ll loan you a yard wand to get you there. It is between the NC-2 and the De Haviland bomber. There is a rack there. I am sure that you will have no trouble finding it.

I snickered. “Anything on YOUR aircraft rows is fun. What do you have that is new to you?”

Genii grinned in delight. How about an X-B70? It needs a little work!”

I chortled, and asked, “Which aisle? I should have no trouble seeing a Valkyrie if it is anything like reassembled.”

Genii handed me a wooden pole with a wide bicycle type seat and handlebars on it. With a grin, she said, “Aisle 36! Have fun!”

Leaving the disgruntled Gray behind, I took the handlebars, activating the “Yard Stick” and took off. In only moments, I found the Aisle 34 marker and swooped around the turn, scooting down the Aisle.

The NC-2 was a great locator. The giant WW I sea-going biplane was totally intact. It had a 103 foot wingspan. For wood and wire technology there were few that ever matched its sheer size and NONE that could match it for range and load.

It was meant to launch in Maine and fly antisubmarine patrol all the way to the Florida keys, non-stop. The Great War ended before it and its three sister aircraft were finished.

Congress canceled the contract without payment. Curtis (the C of NC-2) went ahead and finished all four planes on their own dime, while Congressmen all got on the “They will never fly” and “defrauding the War Department” band wagons. When all four launched from the factory in Virginia and flew up to Maine, the world was astounded.

When they refueled, they took on as passengers those few Congressmen and Navy personnel still championing the NCs as practical aircraft. They then flew, non-stop to the Florida Keys, exactly as designed, except that they were carrying almost a 20% overload in passengers, instead of bombs and depth charges. That feat blew away the whole world at the time.

It also shut up the NC program critics more effectively than if they had been hit by the bombs that the planes were designed to carry. Congress quietly tried to pass Curtis the money that they were due, so that the US Navy could claim the aircraft.

Later, the four made a trans Atlantic Flight. The NC-1 disappeared in thunderstorms. Some wreckage was found. The NC-3 was forced down at sea. It was taxiing on only two engines when found. The tow to the Azores caused enough damage to the plane that it could not continue.

The NC-2 got to the Azores a day before the NC-4. It refueled. The weather being good, it took off for Lisbon and was never seen again. The NC-4 landed in the Azores, refueled and later landed safely in Lisbon harbor, the first airplane to fly the Atlantic. It is now in the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum.

I made a note to ask Genii how she managed to get the NC-2 and set my yardstick down by the rack of carpets. They followed that old law, 90% of everything is crap.

Genii, as usual, was right about it not being hard to find the one that she had spoken of. It had a clearly later, and phony, Antwerp label sewed on. The work had been carelessly done. The metal needle used to sew the label on had damaged the port side lift and control spells, unless my Pocket Dowse and Spell Strength meter was wrong. Judging by the fringe and warp damage, it must have been some crash.

As I rolled up the carpet and strapped it to the Yardstick, I heard a warning siren. It was coming from the vicinity of the X-B70, whose huge nose and forward canards jutted above the intervening aircraft.

No chance to look at it, then. I headed back in to the shop. I got there just before the unearthly scream of the six monster jet engines being fired up. It sounded like the X-B70 was a live bird. If Genii was going to that much trouble, she very likely had a cash customer for it. I wondered who it was.

Sometimes Genii would talk about customers and sometimes not. It was never wise to pry. There was someone new at the counter. The Gray was still there. Still complaining.

Genii turned her back on him and told him, “You are right. I did not sell to you. I will not sell to you. You tried to shoplift PRINTED MATERIAL from ME! I have not let any written things go since Caesar screwed up our deal and BURNED the Library at Alexandria! You have only seconds left to get out of here alive! Go!” She was reaching under the counter when the Gray left - - at a waddling run.

Turning to the new man at the counter, she smiled very professionally and asked, “Sorry about the scene, General. What can I do for the Air Force today?”

Self-importantly, he replied, “What was that? It sounded like a jet engine test!”

Serenely, which is a bad sign with Genii, because it means that she is absolutely certain of her legal footing, Genii replied, “It was. X B-70 engine test. Starboard #2 engine began to develop vibration, so we aborted the test.

“It is ALL covered in my salvage contract. Do you need a copy?”

Sourly, the General replied, “Why bother? You can’t sell it if it is operational. Mass weapon laws.”

Smiling with her fangs but not her lovely eyes, Genii replied, “Loophole big enough to fly a carpet through, General. If I am not selling it on Earth, the laws don’t apply. I am not selling it anywhere that you have any authority.”

Voice hardening and chilling some, like maybe a glacier, she asked, “Do you have any actual business here?”

“Where are those ten computer stabilization systems that we ordered!” More a demand than a question. Bad way to make points with Genii.

Her face froze. “I have been forced to cut off all credit to the United States Armed Services. Proper notices were sent according to the contract. The reason given is failure to render payment of the agreed form or amount. Further, the Military Procurement Office has sent formal notice of refusal to pay and stated that I will receive only 1/10th of the outstanding total and that only by a check drawn on the Government.

“This has totally canceled our contracts and agreements. I filed a notice of repossession for all of the following items.”

She fished out a file box and gave the thunderstruck general a list. She also handed him a file of correspondence.

“That file and notice are copies of the originals. You may keep them or return them. Neither you nor any other armed service gets anything until I have my gold on the counter.”

I will give the General this. He took the whole file and settled himself at a large table. He began at the front and started working though it. Soon he was on a cell phone.

I was walking beside the Yardstick, guiding it with the handlebars. I brought it up to the counter and asked, “Got a Merlin S-multimeter, Genii? I want to check this out pretty carefully. I am certain that this is a Second Caliphate carpet but as near as my Pocket Dowse can show, the counterfeit label was sewed in with an Iron or Steel needle.

“Looks like that caused the control failure that made it crash.” I shook my head at foolishness. “Can you believe knowing enough to get a carpet like this and then sewing in the phony label for tax dodging with a steel needle? It shorted or blew out all the port side lift and control spells.”

Genii grinned hugely which showed off her big fangs wonderfully. She hopped across the counter again. She had five different willow wands and a very well worn Merlin in her hands.

She helped me to unroll the carpet. I showed her the weave and fringe damage that led me to think that the carpet had collided with something pretty solid at high speed.

Genii nodded agreement and plugged the biggest of the wands into the Merlin. Between us, we made sure that the original starboard spells were all intact.

The port side was a total loss. Between that steel needle and the impact damage that distorted the weave, and with it the spells, it was going to have to be totally reworked from fringe to fringe.

She looked up, shaking her head. “I got this out of the Lord Carleton Estate. I just paid a flat fee for it all. I was pretty sure of what this was but that was a LOT of stuff to sort. Drove my Yard Imps nuts.

“I just set it over in aircraft and hoped for the best. You lucked out, Jimmy. This IS a genuine and restorable Second Caliphate. I already have it priced.

“Yours for only five ounces.” She grinned again. I may be weird but I like Genii’s grin, fangs and all. She was holding out her hand.

Like a true gentleman, I dropped in three one troy ounce Krugerands and two Chinese Pandas. Genii, being Genii, closed her hand about them. When she opened it, the coins were gone and a receipt was in their place. It looked for all the world like a magic trick. Which it was. Real. Not slight of hand.

With the General expostulating fiercely into his phone in the background, Genii helped me roll the carpet snugly and secure it with straps for transport.

Carpet over my shoulder, I walked to the door. Looking out, the Gray and a companion were going over my rig, big jumper cables in hand.  They were trailing down from the nearly antique Type A saucer hovering overhead,. They were trying to find the hookup points for a jump-start. One was gabbling in Gray, “No Anti-gravity! How it fly?”

Door partly open, I called back inside, “Genii! The Grays are trying to swipe my rig from your parking lot!”

Snaring her fiercest, Genii came barreling out past me. She had what looked like a shotgun in hand. The double boom sounded like a shotgun all right. The result was not your normal shot shell hit on the tough hull alloy of the Type A saucer overhead.

The blue fire blast was something to behold. A visible hole about a foot across started to trail smoke most impressively. The saucer tilted some and sailed across Genii’s Yard Fence. A few moments later the array of crashes and the crunch of failing metal announced the end of the saucer, and probably, some expensive junk. The Grays ran like rabbits while Genii was reloading. Definitely not normal shotgun ammo.

I stowed my find and climbed under the cloth sunshade of my rig and, taking out my control wand, lifted my old Mohgul Carpet and took off for home. As I flew, I reflected that if Genii had lost some junk in the crash, she had gained a whole, nearly intact Type A saucer for salvage. I think that she was going to come out ahead. As usual.

–THE END–

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to the Bizarre Borderland

[askkrenko]

Let’s Talk about Secret Lair

Now that we’ve had a week to stew and they’re coming out tomorrow, I’d like to take the time to give my full thoughts on each Secret Lair line and give them something resembling a grade of my own. I gave them initial thoughts on reveal, but now I’d like to speak a bit more structured.  This might get a bit long, so... After the Break!

THE BOX: I don’t have the box. I can’t judge the box. If the box is good quality, it could be worth like $10 of the price. If the box is bad quality, it’s trash. For my discussion here I’m going to be ignoring the box. The box looks sturdy enough, and pretty alright, so keep in mind that they each come with a special box.

Bitterblossom Dreams:

Value: Bitterblossom alone costs more than Bitterblossom Dreams. Certainly it’ll drop after this comes out, but Bitterblossom Dreams’ raw value is undeniable. It’s a cheap Bitterblossom, plus tokens. Style: Extended Art cards are always cool, especially on well-known permanents. it’s clearly Bitterblossom, but still has the text there for those who need it. The four tokens are each extended art as well, have different but matching art, and create a lovely panorama. My only complaint is that, for gameplay purposes, I think the panorama should’ve put the Bitterblossom itself either on the far right or the far left so that the cards would line up properly on the battlefield. As is, during gameplay the Bitterblossom will be to the saide and the tokens all together, creating an odd effect. Still, this is a relatively minor complaint. Usability: Bitterblossom is super usable. Very popular card in Legacy and Commander that sometimes sees real Modern play. 

Overall: Do you want a Bitterblossom? Bitterblossom Dreams is the most cost effective way to get it, and it’s super cool. Pretty straightforward. This is a good product, and yet...

Something feels off about the whole thing to me. Magic’s always been about selling cards and often including cool alt art versions for sale, but somehow the idea of a $30 product that’s just ONE playable card, even with the four tokens, feels very... off to me. I can’t complain about it because it’s a great deal, it just feels... so weird. Eldraine Wonderland:

Value: It’s five basic snow lands.  Yeah, these are like $8 each in foil for the Modern versions, but they’re still five basic lands in foil. Modern Horizons just gave us FULL ART foil snow lands. And regular full-art snow lands are 50 cents each now. The value here is terrible. Style: It’s... a foil land. Sure, the art is nice, but not ‘different’ or ‘special.’ It’s just nice art. In a normal frame. I award this no points.

Usability: Very low. I like the Snow-Covered Swamp... but a playset of Snow-Covered Swamps is not 1, nor is it 4. It’s 20-30, depending on format. And this set is all five. I don’t need Snow-Covered Islands, Mountains, or Forests. I need Swamps and Plains, and only if I can get two dozen of each. A set of one of each foil snow land does nothing for me. Even if I was willing to spend the price of $6 per foil snow land (which, to be fair, I might be- I’ve been amassing foil Zendikar and BFZ forests for one of my decks at about that price), I don’t want to have to buy all five at once and then go through the effort of trading/selling the ones I’m not using. Overall: This is bad and feels bad. Basic lands should not be $6 a pop for foils, even if they’re snow-lands, and buying them in separate sets of five instead of, say, getting to buy each in sets of five on their own, just means if I do want enough for a deck, it’s a pain in the butt. I award this product no points. Restless in Peace:

Value: Non-foil versions of these cards are at about the $20 range combined, and these ones are alt-art but... not foil. So the value here isn’t great.

Style: The art here is good, and I certainly think it’s better than the previous arts for Golgari Thug and Bloodghast. The style isn’t TOO far out there for modern magic, but it’s still abnormal, especially with Bloodghast.  Once again, the panorama has a non-permanent in the middle, which means it can’t be assembled on the battlefield.

Usability: It’s Modern Dredge. Do you play Modern Dredge? Are you interested in Modern Dredge? Consider buying four of these. Otherwise, you might want a suite for a commander deck, but they’re pretty narrow cards. That’s good, though: they all have a shared home. This is a niche product with a clear, obvious usability that basically guarantees that if you want any of them, you want all of them. Overall: ...Why aren’t these foil? Okay, I get it, not everybody wants foil, especially for a tournament deck because foils can bend, but they’re asking premium prices for printings with new art that’s... good, but not really out there. Feels like a waste of time. At the very least they could’ve been foil. That Bloodghast would look great in foil. Seeing Visions:

Value: Serum Visions is a $2.50 card and foil versions can be gotten for under $4 thanks to the admittedly-icky-looking FNM promo.  The value in Seeing Visions is godawful.

Style: I love these cards. They’re so weird and cool and freaky and abstract and unique. Sure, the frame is normal, but the arts are all stuff we basically never get on Magic cards anymore. Usability: It’s a playset of Serum Visions. You can find a use for it easily. Some people don’t like to have different arts of their cards in their deck because it gives the opponent ‘information’ but screw that. This is perfect. Just put them into a blue deck and you’re good to go. Overall: This is cool and beautiful and really neat and interesting and $30 just seems so high for them, but if you’re already running a playset of Serum Visions in Modern, they’re just soooo cooool that maybe they’re worth it as a pure pimp factor. Unlike with Bitterblossom Dreams and Restless in Peace, this wouldn’t be your way to get the cards to begin with. It’s not a ‘hey, if you want Serum Visions maybe get this version.’ It’s pure pimping. ...And I like that.

<EXPLOSION SOUNDS>: 

Value: These cards in normal printing total about $20. I’m not impressed. If these were foil, well, Sharpshooter’s only foil printing is over $40, but no, they’re not. So there’s no real value in here. Style: This is a nice, unique, cartoony style the likes of which we haven’t seen outside of Un-sets since Phil Foglio in the earlier days of Magic. I’m not positive that I LIKE this art, but I do like that it’s unique and I appreciate that a lot. I also love the flavor text setting them up as a team. Usability: I’m not actually sure what I’m supposed to do with these goblins. At $30 for the five they’re clearly for the more engaged player, but two of them aren’t modern legal, and the ones that are don’t really see play in Legacy goblins. I want to put all five of these in a deck, but the only deck I can think to do so is in a Commander deck using either Krenko at the helm. This set would be a lot better if, like Restless in Peace, they had made sure all the cards were part of a single deck that was decent in at least one format.  Hell, if a Krenko had been printed in this set, at least it would’ve been clear what to do with them. Overall: I want to like this set, but I have no idea who it’s for and what should be done with it. It’s a panorama that clearly all wants to be used together, but only in a goblin tribal commander deck or a kitchen table deck, the art is interesting but I’m not sure it’s actually GOOD (it makes me think of cheap mobile games), Goblin Lackey’s the only card that really needed a reprint, and they’re not even foil. I’m disappointed. 

Kaleidoscope Killers: 

Value: Non-Foil Sliver Overlord is currently $33. This set costs $40. This has value. The other two aren’t slouches.

Style: I really, really like the style on these, but style is subjective so what really matters is that the art is very non-standard and the sort of thing you don’t see much on regular magic cards these days. And all three of them are there to be Commanders, so if you use them they’ll be front and center the whole time. Usability: Let’s face it, you only want one of the three. Look, they’re all great, but five color decks are expensive mana bases so unless you’re rich or one of those weirdos who reassembles their decks on the fly, you’re only building one, and they’re all tribal lords so they don’t go into the same deck at all. This is the sort of thing where you buy it for the one you want and then try to trade the other two... And they’re all really cool and worthwhile cards so you’ll probably have an easier time with this than with Eldraine Dreams, but it’s still inconvenient that you have to buy them as a unit. If the value weren’t so good here, I’d be complaining more, but I’m seriously tempted to buy this just for the Reaper King (normally a $70 foil) and trading the other two. Because seriously. SO GOOD value. And I don’t even have a Reaper King deck... yet. Overall: So tempted. They look really cool (especially the Ur-Dragon), it’s a great value, and of all the cards to have in alt-art foil, Commanders are the coolest because of how they’re front and center of your deck. Very niche- the purpose of these is to have one of these specific cards as your commander- but very good.

OMG KITTIES!

Value: Even in foil, most of these cards aren’t worth much. The value in this as far as actual cards go is less than the $40. If you’re talking about raw financial incentive to get these cards, this set is not worth your time. That said...

Style: OMG KITTIES! They’re so cute and fluffy and snuggable and like nothing that normally gets printed on Magic cards. They’re unique art, with unique tokens, and cute flavor text, and they’re just so cuuuuute! This style is really something SPECIAL on a Magic card.

Usability: This... is for an Arahbo deck. Hell, Arahbo’s even here. But there’s nothing else to be done with these cards. At all.  Here’s the thing, though, Feline Ferocity is currently bouncing around $90. If you don’t have that deck, you’re probably going to have a hard time using these cards... but if you DO have that deck, you’re only getting two new cards that are pretty cheap to get in the normal version.. Also, there’s two cats that each make two cat tokens, and each has a matching cat token, but only one matching cat token. This set should have two of each of the cat tokens. Overall: This is a supplemental product to a supplemental product. Yes, you can buy it without owning Feline Ferocity, and two of the cards will be new to it, but you know what’d be totally awesome? If instead of selling this OMG Kitties as a set of five cards and two tokens, they sold it alongside a reprint of the Arahbo deck so that people who hadn’t gotten it the first time could get it now with this upgrade? Maybe even offer it in both “Upgrade pack” version of just the new cards AND a version where you got the whole deck, plus these cards as a bundle.  And another of each token.

I really like OMG Kitties overall as an option to upgrade an Arahbo deck, but I don’t have an Arahbo deck and literally the only thing to do with any of the cards in this set is to make one.

Final Thoughts: 

If the foils curl too easily, most of these are a waste of money. Assuming they don’t, Bitterblossom Dreams and Kaleidoscope Killers are great purchases, OMG Kitties!, Restless in peace, and Seeing Visions are very much niche products that are pretty cool if you’re that particular niche, and  Eldraine Wonderland and <explosion sounds> are both outright failures as unified products.

[the-hs-etaverse]

Homestucks as Songs from My Electronic Music Playlist

Because I love the Armour Mayhem and Geometry Dash music and songs in that ilk and will push that agenda to the moon and back

These are not necessarily songs I think they’d like, these are songs that fit their general aesthetic

John: WRLD - By Design (more of a Life song tbh but it’s the right vibe)

Rose: Waterflame - Meltdown (grimdark-ish I suppose but that’s her perpetual mood)

Dave: MDK - The Warrior of Wubstep (pls watch the video bc it reeks of him, also that’s my new headcanon Dave voice)

Jade: TheFatRat - Never Be Alone ([crying emoji])

Jane: Cursedsnake - Sunrays (long boi, buckle up; it’s just got the right vibe, I can’t explain why but it does)

Roxy: Azazal - I Said Meow (cats and dubstep, what could be more fitting?)

Dirk: CloZee - Koto (mock me all you want but you know I’m right)

Jake: Waterflame - Blast Processing (this is my all-time favourite song so I HAD to assign it to someone but it fits pretty well)

Aradia: Hinkik - Realms (a lot of Hinkik’s work has her aesthetic but this fits best, note the music box)

Tavros: TheFatRat - Windfall (he’s got hard vibes to place, but I think this has the aspiration)

Sollux: Waterflame - Endgame half the time, Creo - Never Make It the other half (when your only two moods are either chiptune or Depression)

Karkat: Crab Rave F-777 - Mr Coffee (the anxiety is P A L P A B L E)

Nepeta: Pikasonic - Asuka (just, it’s just so upbeat and :3)

Kanaya: Deon Custom - Roses (well yes the title did affect my choice but just listen to it, also parts of it sound kind of like a chainsaw revving)

Terezi: Waterflame - Clutterfunk (it’s an actual mess)

Vriska: Nitro Fun - Final Boss (though Aranea’s song fits very well)

Equius: AU5 & Fractal - Smoke (more depressing than I’d like but it gets the Void across very nicely)

Gamzee: MDK - Fingerbang (I think this is a good mix of both stoned and sober)

Eridan: Creo - Nautilus (kind of a depressing beat but, well, whatever works)

Feferi: Morii - Atlantis (this song inspired this post actually, it’s just her level of joyful enthusiasm)

Damara: CloZee - Get Up Now (subtly evil-sounding, anime vibes)

Rufioh: Rogue - Adventure Time (no I didn’t just pick this song because he’s a Rogue what are you even saying)

Mituna: MDK - Press Start (insanity in chiptune form, again, watch the vid)

Kankri: you know what screw it dancestors are hard I’m putting down Noisestorm - Crab Rave

Meulin: F-777 - I Love You All (overenthusiastic and tooth-achingly sweet)

Porrim: Dex Arson & MDK - Resolution (chill but also fairly heartfelt I guess)

Latula: Waterflame - Clutterfunk Part 2 (considerably more chill than the first one, vaguely rad vibes)

Aranea: Feint - Snake Eyes (the lyrics are just one big callout post for her)

Horuss: Just Dancin - F-777 (I think it’s enthusiastic but also kind of empty which suits him)

Kurloz: Nightkilla - Nine Circles (cursed evil dubstep)

Cronus: Waterflame - Bastard Zone (look it says exactly what he is, and it’s got a slightly creepy cool vibe)

Meenah: Razihel - Bad Boy (perfect fit for the rebellious teen punk)

Calliope: Creo - Glome normally (again it doesn’t quite fit her vibes but it’s close), Sizzlebird - Imagine for Alt!Callie (rEEKS OF SPACE NUN)

Caliborn: TIN - Ticking (anxiety-provoking and very rhythmic)