#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!!

[moonstruckme]

Ooooo okay I do think Remus is the best choice in this one!!! How is it when the two of them start to have feelings? Does Remus fall first and want to hide it? I need more of them 😭

To answer your question plainly ml, no Remus doesn’t fall first (he fs falls harder though) <3

cw: modern au, patriarchal dating norms, the boys are goofball idiots

Who’s That Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 781 words

“Wha—” Sirius is laughing at you. Never a great sign. “Where did you take these?”

“Around,” James hedges.

You pull your legs up onto the couch, trying not to look as self-conscious as you feel. “James thought it’d be a good idea for me to show a…variety of hobbies.”

“Do you actually know how to rollerblade, though?” Sirius asks, scrolling through the photos James took on your phone. “You look like a baby giraffe in these. And—oh, god—you definitely don’t know how to rock climb. Is this photoshopped? Remus, come see this.”

Remus, finishing fixing himself a cup of tea in the kitchen, comes to lean over the back of the couch. Evidently, his curiosity has outweighed his general disinclination to do as Sirius bids him.

“We weren’t going to actually go find a mountain,” James says defensively, “and she didn’t want to go to my climbing gym.”

“Where’d you take this, then?”

James mutters, somewhat abashedly, “My room.”

Sirius snots. “Well, if your aim was to make her look loony, you’ve succeeded.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, unable to keep yourself from watching Remus out of the corner of your eye as he watches Sirius go through the pictures James took for your dating app profile. His face is unreadable, but those hazel eyes don’t stray from your phone as photo after embarrassing photo of you scrolls past. You feel your face heating. Remus lifts his tea to his lips for a sip, impassive. His hair has grown so long a tendril nearly brushes the rim of his cup.

This is why you need to be on dating apps in the first place. Because you notice things like this. Developing a crush on your flatmate is a horrific idea, predestined to end in any number of horrific ways. You need a distraction. Some other point of interest for your overeager heart to fixate upon.

“Help me,” you beg Sirius.

He nods, his lips pursing in thoughtful contemplation. “You need some pictures with blokes,” he says. “It shows you get along with men, and seeing you with other guys always makes men want you more.”

You eye him dubiously. “That works for you?”

Sirius gives you a smug look. “Babe, I’ve never needed to resort to tricks. I do know how men think, though.”

James makes a skeptical humming sound. “You don’t want to use any with attractive guys,” he argues. “Wouldn’t want to make them think they have to deal with competition.”

Sirius appears to weigh this. “Fair enough. Only pictures with Remus, then.”

Remus shoots him a dry look.

You look at James to see if he’s going to say anything. He appears unphased, seeming to accept the remark as a harmless joke. With some effort, you seal your lips shut.

“Oh, come on,” Sirius scoffs, “look at these. What’s with all the long skirts? Are you a vicar’s wife?”

“Jar,” says Remus.

“What’s wrong with being modest?” you ask.

“It’s boring.”

“Just because I don’t like to wear my clothes the way you wear my clothes,” you defend yourself, “doesn’t make me boring.”

Sirius raises an unimpress brow, like doesn’t it? “I’m just being honest,” he says.

“Well, your honesty makes you sound like an asshole.”

“I’m trying to help you get shagged!” Sirius throws up his hands. “You know, you’re going to be a tougher sell if you insist on being difficult.”

“Jar,” Remus says again, more forcefully.

Sirius looks to James, aghast, but your flatmate only shakes his head solemnly.

“Jar, Pads,” he seconds. “Ten pounds.”

Sirius huffs but takes out his wallet.

You wrap your arms tighter around your shins. “I don’t think I want to have to put a bunch of showy pictures on here just to get a date.”

“Quite right,” James agrees with you. “Not for free, babe, that’s what I always say. That’s why I keep my shirt on until the third date, as a rule.”

You and Remus both give him puzzled looks; Sirius appears unsurprised.

“Not much staying hidden if you’re still wearing those shorts of yours around them,” he mutters bitterly.

“What? What’s wrong with my shorts?”

“If you have to use some of these pictures,” Sirius says, “stick with the rock climbing ones. The less obviously fake ones, of course.”

“Yeah?” You scroll back to those. “Why?”

“You look fit in those.”

“Awe.” You smile at him, surprised. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” Sirius shrugs insouciantly. “Just calling a spade a spade. Your arse looks killer in those. Doesn’t it?” He turns to the other boys as your smile morphs into a grimace.

James shrugs, though he doesn’t not look appreciative; Remus only says in monotone, “Jar.”

[redrreign]

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

[cherrygirlfriend]

fragile fawn reader seeing rafe at the beach of their encounter?

chance meetings

rafe sees fragile fawn reader at the beach while he’s out with his friends. hi!! since they met on the side of the road i did decide to just make it a random beach 😭 but i hope you don’t mind !!

rafe’s eyes were covered by a pair of black ray-bans despite the fact that the sun was already setting, the sky a color of pinkish orange as he pulled his car up on the beach, music coming from his stereos until rafe killed the engine and climbed out.

several of his friends got out of their own cars, the noise of chatter starting to fill the formerly quiet beach. the girl he’d been seeing that month, madison or madeleine, or something along those lines, wrapped her arm around his waist, and he lazily draped his tanned arm over her shoulder as they started to make their way to where their friends were.

bass-heavy music was blaring from the speaker topper had brought and rafe grabbed a beer from the cooler, opening it up via hand and ditching the bottle cap somewhere in the sand, taking a large chug. mad-something was babbling into his ear about something that rafe really couldn’t give a shit about.

“what’s good?” topper exclaimed, a wide grin on his face as they bro-hugged, before topper snaked his arm around the girl he had brought along with him.

“rafeyy, can you put sunscreen on my back?” the girl rafe brought asked, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout that she probably thought was cute but one that seemed to grind his gears, a wide grin on topper’s face. “sure.” rafe mumbled in response, but his eyes instead drifted to the water, the sight of an eerily familiar girl standing knee-deep in the water, the hem of her long floral-patterned dress floating on the surface causing him to furrow his brows in confusion, the figure staring up at the sky.

“it’s the weird-ass bird girl.” topper snorted and took a swig out of his beer. “bird girl?” rafe asked, feigning disinterest by doing the same as his friend had done, “yeah. jen saw her playing with some bird the other day and talking to herself. heard she’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic.”

“she’s a total nutcase.” madeline(?) said with a roll of her eyes, “heard she’s been in the loony bin a few times. doesn’t have any friends around here ‘cause everyone steers clear of her creepy ass.”

“i heard she was in a cult.” topper’s girl whispered conspiratorially and let out an irritating giggle as he watched you plunge into the water, “doesn’t matter. she’s irrelevant.”

rafe let out a noncommittal hum, yet as the night went on… the boy couldn’t help his eyes from straying to you. even as the sky turned a dark shade of blue, as his friends slowly started leaving the beach… rafe just kept looking over at you, sitting on a bench near the shore, your hair and dress half-dry as you simply watched the waves lap against the rocks.

“hey, i gotta head out.” rafe mumbled, chucking the half-empty bottle of beer onto the sand, “top, you mind giving… mad-whatever a ride home?”

“i got you, man.” topper shrugged, and rafe didn’t think the boy even heard him, but he didn’t really care. based on how the girl had draped her arms around some random dude’s neck, he was sure she’d find a way home.

rafe walked over to the bench where you were sitting at, holding a hand out, “come on.” you looked up at him with furrowed brows, your gaze going from his eyes down to his hand, “why?”

“you’re not supposed to get rides from strangers. we’re not strangers anymore. therefore i can give you a ride. now c’mon, before my hand goes sore.” after another moment of hesitation, you took rafe’s hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

you hummed softly as you gazed out of the window of rafe’s car, unaware of the fact that the boy driving was glancing at you every other second, until he placed something on your lap. you looked at the grey sweatshirt rafe just handed to you, before turning to him with a questioning look.

“put it on before you freeze to death.” rafe grumbled, and you did what he said, not even noticing that you’d put it on backwards.

“it seems like every time i see you, you just keep giving me clothes.” you observed, the sleeves of rafe’s shirt slightly too long for you. “you’re a strange guy.”

“that’s cause you don’t wear enough clothes.” rafe mumbled. “why do people call you bird girl?”

“i don’t know. people here don’t really talk to me that much.” you shrugged, “but it could be because i took home a raven that injured its wing a few days ago and i’m helping her out.”

“are you some kind of a hippie? all these midnight walks, going to swim in your fuckin’ clothes, savin’ animals… i don’t get your weird ass.”

“says the person who keeps borrowing a stranger his clothes.” you shrugged, “i’m just… me.”

“okay, then. real talk; were you in a cult?” rafe asked as he pulled up in front of the house that he somehow already knew the way to from muscle memory. “cause that’s what people are sayin’.”

“it was more of a commune.” you hummed quietly, but before rafe could say anything else, you pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, “thank you for the ride.” stunned, he watched as you climbed out of his car and rushed to your front door. why the hell did you just kiss his cheek?

and why the hell did he like it so much?

ty 4 reading! feel free to send requests & check out my masterlist! ₊˚⊹

[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