#Loony rock

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

FOR ALL THE FREAK-BEAT/ HORROR/ MONSTER KIDS WITH TASTE -- HALLOWEEN SOUNDS OF YORE.

FOR FANS OF '50s ROCK 'N ROLL, '60s GARAGE, FREAK ROCK, HORROR ROCK, & BRITISH ROCK.

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on "Screaming Lord Sutch and the Savages," a CD compilation by rock 'n' roll band SCREAMING LORD SUTCH & THE SAVAGES, released under the EMI label in 1991.

OVERVIEW: "Screaming Lord Sutch was an original, at least as far as British rock & roll was concerned -- with the obvious exception of Screamin' Jay Hawkins, to whom he owed an obvious debt -- there was no one in rock & roll on either side of the Atlantic who took anything like the approach he did to the music, mixing completely out-there playing and singing with mostly strange, dark novelty tunes.

PART II: This collection, 18 tracks of which were produced by Joe Meek, show off the highlights of Sutch's five years on the EMI label, and feature accompaniment by Ritchie Blackmore, Nick Simper, Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Matthew Fisher, and Nicky Hopkins, all future luminaries in the rock world. And between all of those talents, this collection would naturally pull in listeners on the American side of the Atlantic by sheer force of gravitation, as it were.

PART III: As it turns out, however, the music is entertaining in its own right, and at its best offers a refreshing dose of straight-ahead rock & roll: "'Till the Following Night" and "Jack the Ripper" hold up well enough among the novelty tunes, while others, such as "Monster in Black Tights" (think of a Goth adaptation of "Venus in Blue Jeans") are good for a laugh and not too much else; "Purple People Eater," by contrast, is a punchy rendition of the Sheb Wooley tune, and it's followed by a raw (and '70s punk-speed) rendition of "Good Golly Miss Molly" that can stand in any collection, and "Don't You Just Know It" is just as good.

PART IV: They open the middle section of this collection, which is the strongest part, as it has all of the mainstream rock & roll. Among the treats is a surprisingly effective slow-tempo version of "Train Kept A-Rollin'" and a pounding, driving interpretation of Big Joe Turner's "Honey Hush" that has room for a honking sax and a delightfully weird guitar break. And Sutch's take on Johnny Otis' "Bye Bye Baby" is worth the price of admission, even if you don't know precisely who's playing that guitar break; odds are it's Jimmy Page.

PART V: Sutch's own "You Don't Care" also demonstrates that the man himself could help his cause creatively. The end of the disc is devoted to some '80s-era tracks that play off of Sutch's (by then) longtime fame in a somewhat more sophisticated manner than Meek‘s old productions did. These are very self-conscious but effective in a suitably theatrical manner, with several ex-Savages participating: "London Rocker" is a superb Little Richard-style song, while "Murder in the Graveyard" and "Loony Rock" play beautifully off of other sides of Sutch's persona.

PART VI/END: It's all a lot of fun and well worth tracking down as a profile of this singular figure in British rock & roll. And for a change, it's an actual EMI production: this is one that Colin Miles' See for Miles Records didn't have to do for them in order for it to come out right."

-- ALLMUSIC (by Brian Eder)

Source: www.bear-family.de/sutch-screaming-lord-screaming-lord-sutch-and-the-savages-cd.html.

[ava1ynn]

Rolf and earl got turned into cutie beans :,)

[rhymeswithfart]

Hi,❤️

I would like to ask for your help in sharing my story and reblog my campaign and help me to verify it . You can find the details of my story on my page. Your support and sharing will greatly help me, especially since you have many wonderful followers.

Thank you for your support and generosity.

May God bless you.🌹🙏❤️

Vetted by association here !

https://gofund.me/b900a18b

I'm so sorry I took so long to respond. I'll add images for tagging:

Please help them!

[enbymacaque]

I keep thinking abt the shadowpeach rock and can’t help but think abt a scene w them doing repairs to FFM (bc we all know that shit did NOT hold up well-)

And in the midst of it all Macaque comes to Wukong w two brushes and nods his head towards an area, ofc Wukong takes a moment to realize and notices Macaque was gesturing towards a rock

It’s like an unspoken kind of acceptance and step to reconciliation as they both draw on the rock and this time it’s the two of them eating peaches/fruit as a nod to their promise or smth

[loony2star]

Dude, my aunt absolutely rocks. She brought me flowers today as a get well present since I'm finally out of the hospital, aunts are the best

[kickasscentral]

what if someone made a sequel to that one rock a fire explosion tape where billy bob sings about not being gay and never kissing a girl except now he’s singing about being able to kiss a girl for the first time and how he didn’t like it so him and the rest of the band try and figure out why he didn’t like it only to come to the conclusion that billy bob didn’t like it because he sucks at kissing so loony bird offers to help him practice and after they kiss billy bob says “oh! I liked that!” Thus completing the “billy bob is gay” arc

[cerkowah]

why are American coins so goddamn heavy

[clowd009]

I like making music sometimes uhm.

you can listen to it here on soundcloud too!!

[redrreign]

really wish new zelda was not one billion dollars I want to blow link up TOOO

[botanyshitposts]

lichen moments from today's research:

-read that one paper where they measured lichen survival after simulated meteor impact and although the results were essentially like 'the lichens did surprisingly well even though they ARE more likely to die as the impact of the theoretical meteor theyre riding on becomes more powerful, and unfortunately big rocks hitting a planet tend to be powerful, so it might take a time and place with lots and lots of different meteors hitting the planet in question for lichen colonization of another planet to be statistically possible' i was also very distracted by the table where they had the explosives they used on the lichens listed and it was like TNT and C4 and shit loaded on to one end of the lichen destroyer 5000 whos only purpose is to smoosh a lichen between two meteor-like rock disks at different velocities. it just had a very loony tunes subtext to it i enjoyed and i wonder if footage exists

-i knew lichen diversity could be used as a pollution bioindicator but i didn't know that was THAT good of a pollution bioindicator. like there are papers where they're concocting pollution maps of a city by counting the lichen species on similarly-sized trees of the same species and putting the counts into a formula that spits out a lichen yelp review of how much it sucks to breathe air for any given survey site in an area. and the yelp reviews track with rough gradients of air pollution readings. which is wild

[witherby]

Hello! I was just wondering if we could get some more Punchline + Joker Junior content? I absolutely loved the first fic you did about them. Take all the time you need, don't rush 💓

I loooove these two and I'm happy to write for them some more! Hope you enjoy!

Punchline: Bonded Pair

3900+ words

⚠️ mention of unsafe living conditions, lack of self preservation instincts, parentification, technically kidnapping?, and threats of death/injury ⚠️

Masterlist is Here!

Popsy's been gone for more than two days, which means Batsy hauled him off to the loony bin again.

You and your brother have to fend for yourselves until he comes back, which is fine. It's a monthly occurrence. You know you have to lie low and not cause trouble when Popsy's away because that's Popsy's job. The best little kiddos are the ones that are neither seen nor heard unless otherwise ordered, he always says, and you're the best of the best!

So, instead of prepping explosives and building elaborate traps, you walk soundlessly across the hideaway to go find your most favoritest person in the whole world.

The concrete of the warehouse is cold under your bare feet and you can hear sirens in the distance. You dance around barrels of firearms and explosive materials, dodge the scurrying rats and roaches littering the floor, and climb up walls and broken ladders with ease to reach the upper floors where your brother is hiding.

Getting up onto the rafters, you spread your arms for balance and toe along the beams. You spot your target hunched over a small pile of scraps and tech across the way and approach him with a grin. You hold in a snicker as you make to leap on top of him, but at the last second he turns and grabs you around the waist with a grin.

"Gotcha!" He cheers. You squirm in his hold, laughing.

"No fair! No fair! How'd ya know I was coming!?"

"Felt the bar wobbling." JJ sets you down and taps the rafter. You feel the subtle vibrations under your hands when you touch the metal and click your tongue, disappointed. You'd get him next time. "What's up? Besides us, ha!"

"Bored!" You scurry past him and grab up what he was working on, holding it up to the moonlight trickling between the busted roof panels. "Whatcha makin' today? Can I help? Can I, can I?"

JJ chuckles and beckons for the device. You comply, handing it over and sitting down right next to him. He holds it in such a way that you can see everything he's doing, always happy to share with you and always happy to explain. That's one of the reasons you adore him so much.

"This is a signal jammer," he explains, flipping the little gadget over to show you the wiring on the back. "This panel here is programmed to send out a frequency that makes technology go all wiley! Radios can't broadcast, cameras can't record, cellphones can't call, yadda yadda."

"But how's the jammer know not to jam itself?" You ask, leaning down to examine the paneling more closely, as if it'll help you understand it any better. It's practically gibberish to you no matter how you think about it.

JJ giggles. "D'ya want me to tell you all the boring specifics, or do you wanna go play tag again?"

You hide your grin behind your hand and kick your feet, giddy. Your big brother always knows you prefer to be more active when you're left to your own devices. He's so smart! JJ can read and write and work on tech and strategize with Popsy — he's the coolest clown in town!

"You're It!" You cry, pinching his arm, then leap off the rafters.

Or, at least you try. A hand clutches your wrist, quick as lightning, which stops your momentum. You tip your head back to find JJ holding you up and staring at you with wide, blue eyes. His smile is thin and wobbly and his breathing is sharp.

"Punchline!!" He cries. "We're eighty feet in the air!"

You snort, hanging limp in his grasp, and make no move to help him lift you back up.

"I can't get hurt, remember?" You swing your legs back and forth, rocking your body. His grip gets tighter on your hand, registering the change of pressure without the pain, which just proves your point. "You're silly! This doesn't count, you have to let me get a headstart when you're It!"

JJ leans back and pulls on you with all his might, groaning from the effort. His voice echoes throughout the warehouse and you can see his arms straining under his shirt sleeves. Slowly but surely, he's able to get you high enough to pull you back onto the beam, and wraps his arms around your waist.

"Let's play on the ground," he says like it's a suggestion, but you know by the tone of his voice that it's not. It's his "no more nonsense" tone, the one he uses when Popsy's in a bad mood or when you have to be quiet when relocating to a new secret base. You've learned to obey that tone very well. That tone keeps you safe.

When he stands, he hauls you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You huff and whine and complain without actually putting up a struggle, but his arms lock around you like a vise anyway, so you just pick at a loose thread on the back of his collar as he makes the journey back down the rafters.

"No fun," you grumble, "no fun, no fun."

"Just because you can't feel when a bone breaks means you should break it," Junior says. He adjusts his grip on you as he starts to climb down some old scaffolding, shimmying carefully to the ground. "Harder to play when you can't walk."

"I guess..." You concede. You can walk on broken legs just fine. You've done it before, but it was admittedly much easier when they weren't broken.

"Glad we agree!"

Despite your protests, you giggle. When your brother's feet touch the floor, he puts you down and forces you to put your shoes on, citing that glass and rusty nails in your feet is still a nuisance even if it doesn't hurt. Once the laces are fastened you immediately take off in a sprint, starting the game.

JJ's always taken great care of you even though you don't really need it anymore. It's been his job since you were born. Popsy doesn't do babies. They're a lot of effort and time he doesn't have, especially when he's busy building the next great game for the Bat and his Birds to play. While Popsy plays with them, you and JJ entertain each other! It's always been that way, and it's lots of fun coming up with new games during the downtime.

"Ten..." JJ calls, smirking as he watches you go. "Nine...eight...sevensixfive —"

"Cheater!" You squeal, hearing his footsteps kick up behind you, and run faster. "Play fair!"

"Fourthreetwoone!" He laughs, sprinting for you. "IIII'm comiiiing, P!!"

You hop over a crate of weaponry and shriek with laughter when your brother follows suit a few seconds later, vaulting and jumping and running after you through the warehouse with only moonlight to guide your way. His past as a Bird makes him exceptionally fast and agile, but he's taught you enough tricks that you can generally keep him at bay for a bit.

You weave between two barrels that he flips over. You dart past a pallet propped against the wall and flip it down behind you, forcing him to duck under it. You squeeze into a dusty air vent he's just a hair too big to fit, his arm reaching uselessly for your hunched figure.

"Cheater," he pants, winded from the chase. His grin is softer. Authentic. You feel yours shift to match. The genuine mirth buzzes around in your chest like a moth around light.

"Takes one to know one," you sing-song, wiggling your fingers just out of his reach. He makes a strong attempt at grabbing you, but you draw back and giggle. "Truce?"

"Yeah," he quickly agrees. "You're It next?"

You nod. When he moves out of the way, you crawl out of the vent and sit on the floor beside him, shoulders touching, and catch your breath together. You tip your head in his direction since he's sitting on your right, in case he has something to say. He notices and props his chin on top of your head.

"Ready?" He asks after a few minutes. You nod, and together you climb to your feet. "Alright. Tag!"

He gently touches your shoulder then takes off across the warehouse. A few mice scatter on his approach and he's careful not to trample any.

"Ten, nine, eight," you call, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Unlike your silly older brother, you're going to play fair and square so you can rub your victory in his face.

"Seven, six, five..."

You lose sight of JJ, but that's fine. The game's more fun when it turns into Hide and Tag.

"Four, three, two, one! HERE I COME, JJ!"

You run in the direction you saw him last, moonlight your only guide, and keep your eyes peeled for any motion in your periphery. So far it's just wood and metal all around you, nothing but your shoes clicking against the floor as you go.

"I'm gonna geeeet youuuu~" you coo, perking up when a shadow shifts a few yards ahead. You rush toward the motion and swerve to avoid crashing into the stacked bottles of acid your Popsy had you collect the other day. "A-ha!"

A Bird stares at you, wide-eyed and dead silent as he white-knuckles a small cluster of papers in his hands. You recognize them as Popsy and JJ's blueprints for some future trap designs. His jaw is practically on the floor, as though believing his garish colors and obvious movement in your living space weren't going to get him noticed. Granted, you thought you'd noticed your brother, but that's a moot point.

Neither of you moves for a few seconds, just staring at each other with incredulity. You've never met another person that wasn't Popsy, JJ, or one of Popsy's henchmen before. You don't know what to do.

"J-Junior," you stammer, grin crooked and heart thundering in your ear. You take a step back, and the Bird seems to come back to himself at that. "Junior!!"

"I won't hurt you," the Bird says, quickly tucking the papers into a pocket. He reaches a hand out to you and steps forward. You turn and bolt, running for your mallet. "Wait!"

"Beat it, Birdy!!" You shout, grabbing the handle of your weapon and swinging wide. The intruder just barely avoids getting his skull caved in. He takes a combative stance, hands balled into fists as he finally gets the hint and puts some distance between you.

"This is not the move to make," he says, scowling now. You sneer at him and twirl the mallet between your hands, glancing left and right for any signs of your brother. "I didn't come here to fight. We can discuss this peacefully."

"Are you deaf?" You taunt, running towards him. You kick a discarded pipe at his face, forcing him to block it, then while he's distracted use a crate as your launch pad to jump at him with your weapon poised to swing down with as much momentum as possible. "I said BEAT IT!!"

The Bird flips backwards to avoid collision. Your mallet hits the concrete with thunderous impact, leaving cracks behind.

You take the offensive, stalking after the Bird and steering him towards the exit. You won't kill him — Popsy's drilled (sometimes literally) into you enough times that if a Bat is gonna die, it's gonna be by his hand — but the sooner he leaves, the sooner you and JJ can round up whatever you can carry and rush to the next hideaway.

"Nightwing, where are you?" The Bird says, pressing two fingers to his ear as you continue to swing at him. "There's a child on the premises with the Joker's motif all over her. I could use someone with your annoying people skills."

He dodges another swipe of your hammer and you see his eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, stiffening like a board.

"Timothy?" He blurts. Your already frantic heartbeat kicks up even faster.

It makes sense now why JJ wouldn't answer your call — that Nightwing guy must have found him. These stupid Birds have invaded your home and accosted your big brother, and now they're deadnaming him like they've got the right to reclaim your family! Like they've got the right to take him from you! Like they've got the right to intrude on your business!

"His name," you hiss, more snarling than smiling as you kick your leg out and bring the Bird to his knees in surprise, "is JJ!!"

You swing again, hitting him in the stomach, and send the Birdy flying across the warehouse. He hits the ground several yards away and rolls, groaning in pain. You stalk after him with furrowed brows and bared teeth.

"What'd ya do with my big bro!?" You demand. "Tell me quickly before I break Popsy's rule and turn your face into mashed potatoes!!"

The intruder pushes himself up by his hands with a grunt, glaring up at you through the lenses of his domino mask. You lift your mallet in warning.

"Where is he!? I'll give ya to the count of three!"

You bring your mallet down right next to the bird's head, making him flinch back.

"One!"

You do it again, this time just barely missing his knee as he tries to get to his feet. He stumbles back and lands on his ass, hurriedly crab-walking away from you.

"Two!"

"Three."

Something pricks your neck, the sensation startling. You flinch and drop the mallet, lifting your hand to touch the needle stuck in your skin. The room starts spinning and swirling, becoming a shadowy merry-go-round in the darkness of the warehouse. You stumble to the side and run into the big, bad Bat himself, who materializes out of nowhere to wrap his arms around you and frown at your slumping body.

Whoops. Probably should've double-checked your surroundings a little better. JJ's situational awareness was always stronger than yours. You'll tell him that when you break out of Arkham with Popsy.

"OhHHhh," you mumble, consciousness fading fast. "BaTSy's here...no...nO fuN...go 'way and...and gimME BAck my...broOotherrrrr..."

Your eyes roll back, your bones turn to jelly, and you're gone.

--

You do not wake up in Arkham. You groggily peel your eyes open to find a plain, beige cell all around you. To your left is a bed, on the back wall is a curtain hiding a toilet and a showerhead, and there's a sink in the right corner. On the ceiling, you lock eyes with a security camera, and when you push yourself into an upright position, you look through the clear, cell door to see a dark corridor clearly carved into a cave.

You're in a cell in the Batcave. How curious.

You push yourself to your feet, shaky from the leftover effects of the sedative, and press your hands against the door, pushing against it with a quiet grunt. It doesn't yield and, based off the panels you've worked with when Popsy's building a new trap, feels bulletproof.

With that avenue of escape gone, you wander to the center of the room and sink to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself and sighing wistfully as your head gently rests against the wall.

You aren't used to being alone. Is JJ also in the cave, or did the Bats put him somewhere else? Maybe he escaped and he's on his way to Arkham to go get Popsy before they swing back around for you. No, they probably put him somewhere else; they called JJ by his old name, so they must want him for something. You don't know what for, and the lack of anything you can do in here is making your skin buzz. You just want to go back to the warehouse and play Hide and Tag with your family.

You must have dozed off again, because the next thing you know you're jolted awake by animalistic screaming down the hall and several, panicked voices are shouting at someone to calm down. You hear something shatter and a batarang goes flying past your door, which startles you.

"Get the fucking sedative out!!"

"I'M WORKIN' ON IT, ASSHOLE, JUST KEEP HIM STILL!"

You watch Batman rush past your door without sparing you a glance, jaw clenched and hands formed into fists. The shrieking gets even louder and the sounds of struggle more intense.

"WHERE IS SHE!?"

Oh, that shrieking is JJ. A wave of discomfort rolls down your spine and makes your fingers and toes numb. Is he upset because you haven't broken out of your cell yet? You're normally pretty fast at escaping bonds and cages, you've had lots of practice, but the sedative had made you so sleepy! That's not your fault!

"Tim, please calm —"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" Your brother shouts. There's another hard thump and sounds of a struggle. A syringe rolls down the hallway and stops in front of your door. "WHERE IS SHE!? WHERE'S MY SISTER!!"

It's worry, you realize. JJ is worried for you. He takes his role as your big brother very seriously, so much so that this is the longest you've ever spent apart, and you're still just in the same building. You don't want him to be worried.

"JJ!" You call, pressing your hands to the glass. "I'm here!"

Everything quiets for a moment. You don't move. You don't breathe. You hold your good ear to the glass to listen.

"Punchline?" He calls.

"I'm in here, JJ!" You respond.

"C'mere," your brother immediately says, in his no-nonsense tone. You glance at the door and the keypad you have no hopes of hacking. The complicated, techy stuff is beyond you. You're the muscle and he's the brains, a dynamic you've been very comfortable with until now.

"I can't," you admit. "I can't get out!"

"...Tim, don't —"

More scuffling. Someone groans in pain. It's not JJ; you know what his pain sounds like, and that's not it.

"Let her go."

"One of you please go grab the goddamn sedative!"

"Give my sister back to me, right now."

"There's no need for violence. Get the knife away from your brother's throat —"

"I DON'T HAVE ANY BROTHERS!" JJ shouts. "GIVE MY LITTLE SISTER BACK TO ME NOW!"

You're so absorbed in the conversation down the corridor that you completely miss the man in the suit in front of your cell. He presses a few buttons on the keypad and you step back from him when the door slides open.

It's a geezer. What little hair is left on his head is snow white and he's dressed up in a fancy schmancy tuxedo. His gaze is piercing, but non-threatening as he looks at you.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, madam," he says, voice gentle as he offers you a hand, palm up. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. Might I request your aid? Your brother seems to be in quite the fright, and I think we've made a grievous error in separating such a bonded pair. Please, allow me to correct that at once."

"...what?" You blurt, smile thin. "You wanna give me AIDS?"

Alfred's expression gets a little tight. He takes a deep breath and starts talking again.

"Apologies for the confusion. I'd like to bring you to your brother. May I?"

Oh! Finally, somebody talking sense! You grin and take his hand, stepping out of the cell and turning your head towards the commotion.

JJ is standing tall and has a Bird on his knees in front of him, one hand fisted in his hair and the other holding a blade to his throat. You're pretty sure it's the one called Nightwing, but you wouldn't bet on it. The shorter Bird you fought in the warehouse is standing next to Batman and holding his dislocated shoulder while a thin line of blood runs down his temple. A big guy, like beefy as shit, in a red helmet is aiming a gun at your brother's head. And Batman is standing with his hands up in placation, trying and failing to take the pacifist route.

"JJ!" You exclaim, happy he's okay. Five heads turn to face you, and you let go of Alfred's hand to run to his side.

JJ lets go of the hand in the Bird's hair to hug you tight, then ushers you to stand behind him. The other hand keeps the knife in place.

"You hurt?"

"Silly question," you mumble, but indulge him anyway. "I'm right as rain, now that you're here!"

He nods, ice blue eyes roaming across all the birdies in the hall with you. Everyone else stares right back, tense and motionless.

"We're bottlenecked, P," he murmurs eventually. "Might haveta enjoy a little vacation in one of these cells 'till Popsy breaks out again."

You shrug, threading your fingers with his free hand. "Together?"

"Together," he says firmly. The fancy butler nods easily, waving his arm.

"You won't be separated again," Alfred promises. "Please, let's cease the violent altercations and all take a rest. Let me move you to a bigger room you two can share."

JJ gives you his full attention. You read the silent question in his gaze.

It's up to you to decide. You can fight your way to freedom or let them herd you into another box for the time being.

You quirk your lips, considering, then shake your head. The warehouse was getting a little boring anyway, and a fight could get your brother hurt.

"Lead the way, Penny Wenny!"

The knife is discarded and Nightwing quickly moves to the side, rubbing his neck and shooting your brother a weird look. The beefy guy lowers his gun. You keep your hands linked and follow the fancy butler to a larger cell with a bigger bed, which JJ tugs you to, and you curl up in his lap while he watches the door with a pensive quirk of his lips. Alfred bows and then leaves, the only sounds now being hushed conversation down the hall.

"You're not hurt?" JJ asks again. You shake your head. "Okay."

"Sorry, JJ," you sigh. "I tried t'get the baby bird to tell me where ya were, but then they pricked me and I woke up here. I wasn't payin' good enough attention..."

JJ gives you a gentle squeeze, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"Not your fault. These guys ain't no joke, P. I would know. I won't let them separate us again."

You hum, knocking your feet together as you come to terms with your new, temporary living space. You can adapt anywhere as long as your brother is around.

Click. Click. Click.

[zlukaka]

Listening to Twice Dead King, and necron lore is either super inconsistent or Trazyn and Orikan are freaks beyond regular necron comprehension. I'll just assume it's the latter, because it's funnier that way. Cases in point so far:

Oltyx: accidentally tries to take a breath, almost goes insane, because necrons can't breathe Orikan: breathes whenever he needs to calm down

Oltyx: "an organic touched a necron rock, all is lost" Trazyn: literally hoarding organics, fills his home with them, drags Orikan with him to observe them in their natural habitat

Oltyx: lives through life-changing moments seconds at a time Trazyn and Orikan: stand in silence for a couple of years to be rude to each other during a conversation

Also necrons be like 'we gotta purge the organics, by the way the Destroyers, those of us who actually do purge all organics, sure are loony'. Funnily enough, this particular take comes up in both books.

Them robots be cray-cray. Or maybe it's specifically the boy robots that are cray-cray, cause at least in the Infinite and the Divine, the female necrons were like the least wackadoodle of the lot.

[lou-bonfightme]

@ugly-anastasia

The woman who ran the Parents and Children Magical Pride Week at Swynlake Primary was a fairy who not been satisfied with the education her half-fairy son was getting about Magicks. Even though Swynlake Primary's curriculum (as well as the Secondary, of course), supplemented far beyond what the government dictated needed to be taught.

Still, even Lou could agree it was sparse. Not to mention: difficult. There were too many kinds of Magicks and teachers were not taught about how to teach about Magicks, which could lead to them being scared about saying anything at all (if they were Mundus) or focusing on their own kind of magic (if Magick.)

The PCMPW filled in--some--of the gaps.

Hyacinth (lovely name) Appleseed-Johnson was calling the meeting of the Swynlake Primary PTA to attention.

"I have assigned everyone tasks, if they will refer to the email I sent. Please get into your break out groups and begin to discuss your strategies for making this the best Parents and Children Magical Pride Week yet!"

Toulouse looked down at his own list and noticed his name amongst three others, under a heading labeled: "Decor and Food/Bev."

Easy enough. In fact, Lou was very pleased.

He glanced up and said in a projected voice, loud enough to be heard over the chatter, without yelling (something he'd perfected in his many years as head of sets): "Decor and Food/Bev! Over here."

[outfit]

Everybody Do Your Share || [Lounnie]

[awellboiledicicle]

My bf playing Death Stranding is really showing me that I very much exist in the spheres on tumblr that like it a lot but never uttered a goddamn thing about story or world building.

Which makes sense, really.

Because it's all fucking loony tunes bonkers.

The main character has an autoimmune disease that makes him allergic to ghosts. This is considered a useful thing to his work, since it is walking through large spans of countryside full of ghosts that very much will kill you if you don't get a heads up and avoid them.

Theres a showering system in game that tracks how nasty Sam, the mc, is. Because the grosser he is, the more wastewater his showers make. Which a guy stores to make into grenades to use against ghosts bc the ghosts are allergic to it.

The baby in the tank on his chest has a like mechanical purpose but the gist is that it's a fetus that got to 28 weeks in a braindead pregnant woman, was removed and placed in the tank to trick it into thinking it's still unborn, and it does. Things. It never ages further. You have to rock it to sooth it if it gets upset. It has facebook. We know it has Facebook because it gives Sam likes on his photos and stunts.

He's paid in likes.

So yeah the baby is a coworker. I assume being fired for them is being allowed to age long enough to fill out unemployment paperwork in crayon.

Sam is covered in hand prints. These are what happen when ghosts touch him.

There is a faction called Mules. They are mail carriers turned raider faction, essentially, because they became so addicted to the rush of completing a delivery that they actively rob other couriers to just. Have a package to put somewhere.

The ghosts is internet bc the afterlife is basically a naturally occurring global network. For free.

Theres a guy named Die Hardman. He wears a skull mask. He works with the president.

This isn't even all the weird shit. This is just what my bf has passed along to me.

And no one fucking told me before this year that the reason the whales are all dead on the beaches was bc rain speed ages you and all the rain ends up in the ocean. I could have been theorizing about the fucked up super aged lobsters this whole time

[proton-wobbler]

Great Backyard Bird Off - Cosmopolitan Birds (poll 11)

Bird Info & Submission Reasons

Common Loon (Gavia immer)

Continents: North America, Europe, Asia

"Another submission that could probably get disqualified due to having a range that extends into the US, but another bird I am prepared to argue should be allowed in on the basis of being Canadian. Anyways, cool fun fact: Canadians call $1 coins “loonies” because most of them depict this bird on the tails side!"

Rock Pigeon (Columba livia)

Continents: Europe, Africa, Asia, Oceania, North America, South America; feral populations also found in Europe, Africa, and Asia.

"It’s iconically everywhere. (Someone should submit it.)"

Image Sources: Loon (Jeff Dyck); Pigeon (David Turgeon)

Continents which are italicized represent the non-native range of the species. Whether introduced on purpose on or accident, these species may have become invasive in this range. Despite their potential impact on native wildlife, please do not leave disparaging comments on these polls. Their purpose is to celebrate people's love of these species.

[renmorris]

same coin theory makes me so insane

you’re the unwanted son, the fuck up, the homeless bum, the truck stop whore, the drug mule. you’re turning tricks in tijuana for enough coke to keep withdrawal away for just one more night.

the stars lure you outside and they’re the brightest you’ve ever seen. like you’re somewhere else. your gums still sting and tingle under your smile. you imagine it, the boat on the water, rocking in the night. far away from here.

you grin through every slur and take every hit life throws at you until you can’t, until you break. you punch and kick until you’re spitting out your teeth in the bathroom sink.

you’re in a prison. no, you’re insane. it blurs. it all falls away. now you’re in the loony bin. they show you stupid ink blocks and ask you what they are. your father's frown and an angry bruise. a drowned rat in a bucket. a world in flames.

you weren’t supposed to be born, you tell them. you tell them things you’ve never told anyone because you know they won’t listen. (sexual deviancy is scrawled on the doctor’s chart.)

you tell them you’ve always known.

you weren’t meant to exist. you’re a curse. your mom says it was a surprise, and a blessing. your father knew better. he must’ve known. why else would he hate you so much? why would the whole world hate you so much?