#RE: the red eyes - I totally forgot about the red madness when I designed him. they're not red for any lore reason; I just think it's cool

[lordmaddie]

Marksman face reveal???? (REAL) More art of my Enderal Prophet OC, from my fanfic Absolution. Template by jilljoycearts HERE 👈

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “Sparking Joy” (Rated G)

Summary:

Kurt wants to Marie Kondo their home, but Blaine is struggling with how to deal with things that 'spark joy'. In the end, Kurt discovers that Blaine's method might be the best. (1966 words)

Read on AO3.

Thunk!

Blaine startles in his seat when an object drops out of nowhere and lands heavily on the living room floor. He’d been spending a relaxing morning and most of the early afternoon catching up on the latest issues of Variety!, his daughter Tracy hanging out with him, watching re-runs of Total Drama Island on her phone. He’s embarrassed to admit that, till that moment, he didn’t know what his husband was up to. Kurt usually spends his weekends designing new outfits or hitting up second hand stores, searching for inspiration.

Seeing Kurt standing in front of him, hands on hips, staring as if expecting an answer to an unasked question, Blaine realizes - not this weekend.

At Kurt’s feet sits a large cardboard box, edges white, corners worn from age, lopsided due to a decade sinking into the carpet at the bottom of a closet.

Blaine looks at the box, then at his husband, eyes glued to Blaine’s face.

“Uh … what’s going on, honey?” Blaine asks.

“It’s April 6th, darling.”

“Yes, it is,” Blaine agrees, looking over at his pre-teen daughter, who shrugs and goes back to her iPhone screen. “And that means …?”

“Today is the day we said we’d Marie Kondo the heck out of this place!”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, recognizing the reference vaguely in his confusion. “Yeah. Right. We’re … Kondo-ing our condo.”

“I knew you’d forget!”

“I didn’t forget. I just … didn’t exactly remember until now.”

“You promised you’d help me with this! This place is turning into a hoarder’s paradise! Lifetime is going to break down our door any day now and put us on TV!”

Blaine scans their stylish but minimally decorated living room – an impressive space that contains two sofas, a coffee table, and a piano. But aside from a slew of family photos on the walls (organized by date in color coordinated frames), there’s little else, definitely nothing that would warrant the label ‘hoarder’. Other rooms are much the same: clothes and shoes in closets categorized by use, subcategorized by season and color; with bookcases and cubbies to handle everything else. “What? Where are you getting that from?”

“I get that from your stack of magazines by the toilet in the master bathroom and our combined army of boxes in the top and bottom of every closet.”

“That’s it? That’s your definition of hoarder?”

“This is box number one of fifteen that you are responsible for going through,” Kurt continues. “Just follow the KonMari method: go through the box and touch every object. If it sparks joy and you can visualize a place to put it, set it aside. If not, thank it and put it back in the box. Once you’re done, put the box in the hall with the rest of our donations and move on to another box.”

“Got it.” Blaine moves from his comfy spot on the sofa to the hard wood floor. “I’ll get on it.”

“See that you do.” Kurt pivots on the ball of his foot and shuffles back to the master bedroom, where he’s been going through his own fair share of boxes to see what sparks joy. Blaine honestly forgot, but he remembers now – he and Kurt watching Marie Kondo explain her method on Ellen, and them reminiscing how they had boxes in their closet they hadn’t opened since high school. In the moment, Blaine was as excited as Kurt to begin. But after giving it thought, he wasn’t sure he wanted to part with anything from his past.

Plus, the whole process seemed incredibly overwhelming.

“Welp, one box at a time,” he mutters, opening the soft flaps. “What do we have in here? Oh … my … God …”

“What is that?” Tracy takes a seat beside her father on the floor as he pulls a thick gold chain with a circular amulet hanging off it from the top of the box.

“It’s part of a costume I wore for an ABBA routine the Glee Club did back in high school.” Blaine shakes his head, a slow smile spreading across his lips. “It was kind of a bittersweet time because your dad and I weren’t together, but I always knew we’d end up this way in the end. I can’t believe he’d expect me to give this up.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Daddy. Can I have it?”

Blaine stares at his daughter, hand already extended to receive. “Just like your mother,” he says, handing the necklace over since he can’t imagine when he’d ever wear it again. “Subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, slipping the chain over her head. “What else is in there?”

“I think these are … yeah …” Blaine laughs as he pulls out what looks like a fighter pilot’s helmet “… these are all parts of old costumes I wore back in high school.”

“How many musicals did you guys put on?” Tracy asks, rifling through the contents of the box.

“Two. But a lot of impromptu stuff went on in the choir room.”

“I guess.”

“Look at these! My yellow sunglasses! Oh, and my Dalton blazer!”

“Were you a cheerleader?” Tracy snickers, holding up a white and red shirt for her father to see.

“Yes,” he says, snatching it away. “Don’t judge. So was your father.”

“No!”

“Yes, ma’am. He was also on the football team.”

“My Papa? Sorry. Can’t see it.”

Blaine spots a copy of their school yearbook from his junior/Kurt’s senior year. Kurt’s father had purchased a two page spread with pictures of Kurt from kindergarten through graduation. He knows there’s a pic of Kurt in his football uniform in there somewhere. He flips to the back and finds it. “See for yourself …”

Tracy takes the book and squints at the page, looking for any resemblance between the boy in the photograph, so thin that his protective gear amounts for two-thirds of his body, and her Papa. “Awww! He’s so cute!”

“Yes,” Blaine says, pulling out another yearbook and flipping through the pages, searching for another picture of Kurt, this time as a member of the Warblers. He grins, and adds under his breath: “Dirty cute.”

***

Kurt slides another box down the hallway and tetrises it into place. He stands up straight, stretching his sore back as he surveys the boxes he has compiled by the front door. He runs a hand through his hair, wincing when he feels it weighed down by dust. He’s going to have to take a shower before he makes dinner. He’s too hungry to shower, and too exhausted to cook. He could order in, but by the looks of those boxes, he may have accidentally blocked the door. He could ask Blaine to cook, or to move the boxes for the delivery guy, but he’s too bitter to do either. Kurt has spent the whole day tackling the job they were supposed to do together. By Kurt’s calculations, he’s pared down a metric ton of junk.

Blaine has possibly rearranged the contents of one large box. Kurt won’t know until he checks in on him.

Kurt should give his husband a chance to prove him wrong. They haven’t spoken for hours, so he doesn’t know what Blaine has or hasn’t done. But considering he never voluntarily came to the bedroom in search of a second box, he has his doubts.

Kurt trudges down the hall towards the living room. He hears Blaine talking and Tracy giggling, but he can’t make out what they’re saying. When he turns the corner, he’s pleasantly surprised to find Blaine’s box closed up and waiting patiently to take its place by the front door. Kurt smiles, relieved. Blaine did take this seriously after all. Good! But Kurt feels a small pang of guilt. He should have given Blaine a bit more credit. He should apologize.

He hears Tracy giggle again and decides to take a break from working to see what’s so funny. Both his husband and his daughter are sitting on the floor, hidden from view by the sofa. Kurt tiptoes in, but a few steps closer, he stops, crosses his arms, and sighs a long, exasperated sigh. Without saying a word, Kurt goes back to Blaine’s box and picks it up. It’s light as a feather. He gives it a shake to confirm his suspicions, then tosses it aside.

It’s empty.

“Blaine!” he groans, storming back into the living room to confront the man sitting amid a pile of every single item that had been packed in that box, and wearing most of it. “We talked about this!”

“I know,” Blaine says, putting up his hands in surrender and huddling closer to his daughter, hoping for the protection that comes from hiding behind an innocent child, “but I can’t help it, Kurt! Everything in that box sparked joy! It was from one of the best times in my life!”

“Blaine! Those things were from high school!”

“A-ha …”

“No one in the world thinks that high school is one of the best times in their lives!”

“I do!”

“How!? You got jumped outside a school dance, remember?”

“Yeah, but it’s also when I met you!”

Kurt stops ranting. He can’t argue with that. He’s often said that only a handful of good came from having to suffer the hell that was high school, and one of those was meeting Blaine. He has to admit, giving away mementos from that time was excruciating for him. But it had to be done. They have way too much stuff sitting in boxes. Kurt isn’t throwing them in the trash or sending them off to Goodwill. They’re not even giving them away away. The majority of his old costumes and props are being re-homed to the theater arts program at Tracy’s school. The next time the Harvey Milk School puts on a performance of West Side Story or Grease, Kurt will be able to revisit his old costumes and remember the good times.

Obviously, Blaine doesn’t feel the same way.

Kurt can’t be mad. He knows how sentimental his husband is. That’s one of the reasons he loves him.

Kurt looks at his ridiculous husband and their daughter, both decked out in everything Kurt had seen in that box – feather boas, a furry red jacket, Blaine’s old cheerleading top, a black top hat. Spread out around them are the only things he thought Blaine might keep – yearbooks, scrapbooks, journals, all open to various pages, displaying pictures from “the good old” days … and days Kurt didn’t think were so good at the time.

The New Directions the year they won Nationals.

Kurt as Officer Krupke tucked beside a picture of Blaine as Tony.

A candid of Blaine dressed in his cheerleading uniform, hula hooping with Tina in the school gymnasium.

Kurt and Blaine at prom the year Kurt was crowned queen.

Seeing these years of their lives spread out in the open on the living room floor, Tracy’s giggling makes sense. Not only was Blaine rescuing the things he felt sparked joy, he was sharing that joy with their daughter … something Kurt, in his haste to clean before the end of the weekend, had neglected to do.

Kurt steps around the sofa, picks his way through the books and the costumes, and joins Blaine and Tracy on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Kurt. I guess I’m not good at the KonMari method,” Blaine says, offering a hand to help his tired husband to the ground.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Didn’t you find anything that sparked joy?”

Kurt puts a hand on his husband’s knee and rests his head on his shoulder. He peeks up at Blaine’s face and smiles. “I sure did.”

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Cyberverse watch! Episodes 1-10

EPISODE 1

Bee you are ADORABLE

The cartoons always seem to start off in the middle of a desert huh

Lmao this is mean but imagine if bee missed the ju-- OH NO I WAS JUST KIDDING BEE

BUMBLEBEE IM SO SORRY I WAS JUST KIDDING, I SHOULDN”T HAVE MADE THAT JOKE

Gosh I’m so glad Windblade seems like one of the main three, like, she’s one of the main people in the intro and everything

Oh man we’re getting right into the bakstory huh

THERE”S TINY PERCY

“We couldn’t be sure if it’d actually work” Windblade says as she jumps through it without any concern or sense of self-preservation

AW SHE HUGGED BEE Windblade is so cute

IS THAT...SKYWARP

It’s so hard to tell the seekers apart

AW MAN I LOVE WINDBLADE’S SWORD And I love that her wings are retractable that’s so cool

STINGER that’s a new ability for ol’ Bee

OH THAT”S THUNDERCRACKER alrighty, sorry bud, I always think you should be green for some reason

JEEZ LOUISE WINDBLADE THAT CORTICAL PSYCHIC PATCH

I wonder if Windblade is still a Cityspeaker in this show :O

oh ANNNND THAT”S THE END OF THAT EPISODE man I forgot they were only 11 minutes. Alright, what the heck, let’s do some more

EPISODE 2

Alright I’m pretty sure that pretty purple seeker isn’t Skywarp but  idk what her name is yet

Aw grumpy Bee is cute

HER FANS JUST FLEW OFF???? WE’RE JUST PLAYING FAST AND LOOSE WITH THESE DESIGNS HUH I gotta say I’m a fan

“I’m going to create a distraction while you--” *camera zooms out to show Bee’s wandered off* I LOVE THEM

Yeah Windblade may not be a Cityspeaker in this series but she’s definitely a babysitter lmao, poor gal

OH SHE IS A CITYSPEAKER THAT”S AWESOME I wasn’t sure if they’d keep that part of her backstory :’) I’m so glad

Awww they hugged again :’)))) Windblade and Bee’s friendship is so cute!!

AAWW AND AGAIN!!! GOSH I LOVE THEM “We were friends once” “We still are” WEEPS!!!!

EPISODE 3

Windblade: BUMBLEBEE STOP DRIVING SO BADLY IM TRYING TO MONOLOGUE

Windblade: I’m going to plug into your brain with this cortical psychic patch and access your memories Bumblebee: I don’t believe this woman’s ever gone to medical school

Lmao way to sum things up Bee

TRIFORCE CUBE ALLSPARK

I wonder if the Allspark swallowed up / locked away his memories AH and as soon as I started typing that some weird glowing stuff started happening lmao

Ah and there’s Starscream, the dork

Man had Saling not warned me about Peter Cullen not voicing Optimus I would’ve been totally caught off-guard by that. Man, I hope Mr. Cullen is doing ok

I DON”T KNOW WHY BUT MEGATRON SAYING “AHAHA OPTIMUS PRIME” MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD

STARSCREAM TOOK OFF HIS WINGS AND THREW THEM WTF

LMAO SHE JUST TRIPPED HIM OFF A LEDGE #Get rekt Starscream

SCARY LADY WHO THE HECK IS THAT

SOUNDWAVE

MY BOY!!! IT”S HIM THERE HE IS!!! I JUST GASPED

SOUNDWAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU”RE DOING SO GOOD

OH MAN AND HE CAN TALK???? SOUNDWAVE BABY BOY!!!!!

OUCH poor Optimus

Optimus: Good thing I was a pitcher in my middle school’s football league *chucks Allspark through the space bridge*

EPISODE 4

That Allspark looks so much like a dice....I wonder what would happen if they rolled a nat 20 on it lmao

GRIMLOCK??????

WHEELJACK?????

lmao wheeljack looks like such a dork I love him

OH MY GOSH IS THAT CHROMIA??? SCREW THESE GUYS, THERE”S MY GIRL!!!!

Lmao I love that Windblade’s essentially “Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories”-ing Bee’s memories

Optimus: Meet back here in 20 astrocycles Grimlock: Sure thing! *whispers to bee* What the heck is an astrocycle Bee: *Shrugs*

Bee: I don’t know, but this place is the pits I LOVE HIM?????

It’s so weird hearing “intellectual” Grimlock lmaooo

Bee: *grumbles* Optimus would’ve thought that was a funny joke YOU ARE PRECIOUS

Optimus: Bee, watch your footing, the ground is starting to shake Bee: Thank you for that wonderful observation, Captain Obvious

Those bugs are making such cute sounds as they attack them that’s so cute

Aw Optimus, you’re such a good guy, what a sweetheart

Dang, they have a lot of autobots on that ship

UH THEY SHOULD LEAVE AT LEAST ONE PERSON AWAKE

EPISODE 5

Aw man the snow and mountain background in this episode look so pretty

WHY IS BEE HOLDING A GOAT SO CUTE

Bee: They were very kind. They took me in as one of their own WHY! ARE! YOU! SO! PRECIOUS!!!!!

Windblade: You want a what? What is a food processor? THEY”RE SO CUTE!!! GOSH I LOVE THEM 

oh man the backgrounds on this show are absolutely beautiful

Man, you know what it’s so frickin cool that Windblade’s essentially the main character of the show (plus Bee, but mostly her) :’)

“I thought they left all the useless bots on Cybertron” “Clearly not, if you’re here” OH SNAP

Bee’s just sitting on the ship watching bad human TV while Windblade’s off risking her life lmao, I love him

Slipstream is such a moron, why would you throw a flier off a CLIFF

SHE”S A FLIER

I love how Windblade says “Ugh, I was attacked” as if it’s just an inconvenience and not a huge deal

EPISODE 6

OHHH IS THIS GLADIATOR MEGATRON

YEAHHHH IT IS

AHHHHHH BEE HIGH-FIVED SHOCKWAVE, THAT”S SO CUTE I was wondering what the context was behind that

OH MAN THERE’S ARCEE AND RATCHET

AHHH AND THERE”S SOUNDWAVE They’re all standing beside him!

MEGATRON JUST SAID “TIL ALL ARE ONE” IM CRACKING UP

Optimus: I do not intend to start a fight Bee: What if he doesn’t listen? Optimus: He will listen to me 8′((((( and so it begins </3

Lmao also:  Optimus: I don’t intend to start a fight Optimus two seconds later: *chucks a bot*

OH MAN SHOCKWAVE LOOKS SO INTIMIDATING I LOVE THAT

“The file clerk is here to air his grievances” OHH it’s interesting to see what sort of backstory they’re giving Optimus in this universe

Megatron: You are wasting your time Optimus: It is never a waste of time to speak to an old friend I AM CLUTCHING MY CHEST,  YOU GUYS ARE KILLING ME RN

GOSH THIS IS THE MOST DRAMATIC BREAKUP EVER THIS IS KILLING ME IM SO SAD

That one lady Decepticon: *grabs onto Bee and flips him over her head* Me: *CONFLICTED HEART EYE EMOJI????*

SOUNDWAVE!!! IM LOVE YOU!!!! I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!

GOSH I AM RENDERED INCAPABLE OF COHERENT THOUGHT OR SPEECH WHEN HE COMES ONSCREEN

Bee: Megatron may have torn out my voicebox, but he can’t keep me from talking. I love to talk! Talk talk talk talk.... Windblade: *laughs* Shut up! *weeps into my hands* This friendship is so wholesome

EPISODE 7

AW Decepticon ships have pong on their ships that’s adorable

What is the deal with this cube...is it a person....

AW IS THIS THEIR FIRST MEETING, THAT”S SO ADORABLE, gosh, what a dorky way for Windblade and Bee to meet

IT”S A SPORT OH MY GOSHHHH that’s amazing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any sort of Cybertronian sports, that’s so cool! I always wondered what kind of sports / games they’d be into

lmao Starscream is so unimpressed with Windblade for liking the game

Ahh Windblade’s taller than him! That’s so cool!

LMAO Bee: You seem different. You’re not like other jets

GOSH THIS EPISODE IS LITERALLY MEAN GIRLS BUT WITH GIANT ROBOTS THIS IS HILARIOUS

Lmao yeah Starsream, because no one’s going to notice the cube is suddenly red instead of blue

AW NEITHER OF THEM REMEMBER HOW TO PLAY CUBE that’s adorable

EPISODE 8

Ugh, there really aren’t any good places to watch episode 8 so I’m watching it all broken up

YO VELOCITRON EXISTS IN THIS UNIVERSE NICEEEE It’s so cool seeing the colony planets!!

YO VELOCITRON LOOKS SO C

OH MY GOSH THERE’S HOT ROD!!!! I LOVE HIM OH MY GOSH BLURR IS HERE TOO!!!!

HOT ROD!!!! RODDY!!! YOU SOUND SO CUTE I LOVE YOU!!!!

Wait wtf is that evil wheeljack??? WHO IS THAT oh wait Plague of Rust??? that doesn’t sound great

“HOT DOG”

I really like Bee’s voice ahhhh he got such a great voice actor

Hot Rod and Blurr’s banter is so fun, that’s really great, and Bee’s like an excitable little kid!!! I love him!!!!

Blurr you stupid twunk, you gotta get out of there THAT RUST IS SPREADING SO FAST

OH NO HIS WHEEL GOT SOME RUST ON IT

OH SHOOT THEY’RE REALLY GONNA KILL BLURR HUH

DANG DUDE WELL OK THEN

EPISODE 9

Nicccce good friends sparring

WHO IS THIS CREEPY MULTIPLE EYED GIRL oh her name is Shadow Striker

*MEANINGFUL SILENCE AT THE WAY THEY STRUNG OPTIMUS UP*

“Ugh, I don’t even like being alone in the room with him” “I don’t like being left alone with you!” LMAO

Bee is so cute, he’s trying to psych himself up

LMAO THE GUARDS ARE TALKING ABOUT THEIR PREFERENCES AND THEIR BOSS that’s so cute what losers

AW MAN I thought Bumblebee was gonna hug Optimus that would’ve been cute

There’s so many seekers in this series!

Man I wasn’t sure what I’d think of Cyberverse but I’m really enjoying myself! It’s such a cute heartwarming show!

...I say, right as Shadow Striker attempts to do a murder / suicide thing with Bumblebee

“What’s your problem with me?!” I MEAN YOU DID BLOW HER UP BUMBLEBEE, CAN YOU BLAME HER FOR BEING MAD

EPISODE 10

Epic space battle! 

BEE YOU DON”T HAVE A SPACE-FARING ALT MODE WHAT ARE YOU DOING

MACCADAMS

THAT”S...DEFINITELY NOT HOW I THOUGHT THAT WAS PRONOUNCED

RIP buff Rung theory, you will be sorely missed

RATCHET!!! GOSH HE DOES SOUND LIKE A WEIRD NEW YORKER that’s an interesting take on his voice! I wonder how they decided on that

SOUNDWAVE!!! SOUNDWAVE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I WOULD DIE FOR YOU!!! AND HE EVEN HAS BACKUP DANCERS!!! Of course the crowd is going wild for him

AW MEGATRON AND OPTIMUS *whispers* datenight

WHEELJACK AND SHOCKWAVE AW THAT”S SO CUTE They’re both dorky science nerds / proud papas to the shocklets and OH MY GOSH DID SHOCKWAVE JUST LAUGH THAT”S SO CUTE

Gosh I love seeing the bots talking about sports that’s adorable

MACCADAM IS TALKING ABOUT THE FUTURE goshhh. I still see buff Rung but actually getting to meet Maccadam is pretty neat

DEADLOCK AHHH aw he’s so timid!! I love him :’) 

CHROMIA!!! I LOVE HER!!! And aww she’s making the same argument she does in the comic

OH NO DEADLOCK POOR GUY what a sweetheart, he’s just out here doing his best 

YOOOO MACCADAM THAT”S SICK AS HELL, IM SCREAMING

THIS DUDE DEFINITELY TAKES AFTER HIS PAPA RUNG

I need to draw Mac and Rung together, I NEED to see them hanging out

“To friendship” AW THAT”S SO PRECIOUS GOSHHHH

I CAN”T WAIT TO SEE MORE OF THIS SHOW I LOVE IT

[bitegore]

It's way too hot in your room, probably because it's August, but you're not one to judge. With an inexplicable groan, you open the window and lay on your side, listening to the sounds of whatever creature frequents your home. They're loud - these bugs - a raccoon scurrying through a pile of leaves - or another appropriate figure, obviously taunting you. You could be sleeping, but instead, you're here, 1:30 in the morning, hopelessly exhausted with no motivation to sleep. (1/2)

Hesitantly, you reach for whatever device is most convenient to you and log into your Tumblr account. Ah, the hellish website where you are free to discuss your outlandish interests to your hearts content. It’s as if David Karp is whispering in your ear, telling you that you’re home. For some reason you squint at the screen, feeling a certain disturbance. It isn’t hot at all. You’re actually fairly comfortable. If someone were writing about you, it’d be great for them to do some research. 

Nevermind the Swerve level fourth wall break. You’re going to sleep, if it kills you, and if your mutual knows anything about you, it will. You hit yourself in the face, realizing that Red, on caffeine, though necessary and unavoidable is a bad idea whenever you need sleep. Breathing in and out, you finally close your eyes. Any normal person dreams of so-called sugar plum fairies dancing. You think of alien robots, picking you up in their servos, and embracing you. That’s the dream. 

It’d be so nice if you could quench your thirst through means of something realistic, but Cybertron seems so far away. These characters, these figures, mean so much to you. Believe it or not you recognize more humanity in them than a lot of people in your life. That’s so pretentious but you honestly can’t shake the thought that all you want to do is frag someone 15 feet taller than you are, or cuddle, or just gaze longingly at and eventually get stepped on. You have no protective shell! 

You’re frustrated. Your meme-filled brain can’t take anymore. You’re going to pull an all nighter, per the usual. Instead of feeling lonely for a fictional planet, you’ll put those frustrations to good use – maybe draw or write something better than this bullshit meta bomb spiel. Somehow, someway, you quietly manage to make a cup of very strong black coffee. You return to your bedroom, and collapse, laying on your stomach and yelling into a pillow that clearly didn’t deserve this. 

Then it happens. You’re struck with the realization that if you were being written into a bullshit attempt at an x reader fanfiction, it would have to be re-written, after a proper question and answer session. Yeah, that’d be nice, and make more sense. Part of you wants to just sleep, so that this can end, and you can actually experience something that makes sense, but you feel footsteps, not normal, light ones, loud, booming footsteps. Could this be the moment things get interesting? 

You glance out your window to find a disgruntled, blue cassette player-like figure who shoots you a deadpan expression. You can’t tell exactly, because of a fiendishly 80s design and a face-plate. 

“Continue observation: human has been activated." 

You press your face against the window, blinking. If this is a hallucination, at least it’s a neat one. 

"I’m not a robot!” You shout, curiously rubbing your eyes. “I can’t be activated, or deactivated, though sometimes I wish I could be." 

"Are you functional?” He asks, a certain gentleness in his Welker-esque, Cylon-like, robotic voice. 

“That’s debatable,” you respond, rolling your eyes. “On one hand, I’m talking to a giant alien robot, who isn’t real. On the other, I feel like I’m in the midst of a bad fanfiction that was supposed to go one direction but has taken a turn for the worst, but isn’t that just life, Soundy?" 

The question is rhetorical, as your friend reaches out a hand. "For you,” he offers, his voice quiet.

“You’re a man of a few words. I like that about you." 

He gently lifts you up and places you on his shoulder. Then, morally ambiguous Soundwave begins to walk forward, either not caring, or disregarding the fact that alien robots are generally frowned upon. You feel a chill come over you, most likely because your room is always at the very comfortable temperature of 90 degrees under those blankets. 

"Listen, I like this as much as the next guy, but you think you can fit me in that little compartment of yours? The one with all of the mini cassettes?" 

"It is too crowded.” He responds simply. “Ravage does not like the company.”

 "Isn’t he -“ You shiver once more, wrapping your arms around you. "I-it’s cold up here. I keep my room - err - hab suite really warm and I don’t mean to be high maintenance, mister soundwave, sir, but it’s cold as balls." 

"Be patient, Red." 

"Holy shit, you know my name." 

"Of course I do." 

"Right, I forgot about the whole ‘telepathy’ thing." 

"It isn’t that simple. I will explain momentarily, but I need you to be patient." 

"I think I liked you better when you were all one liners or telling Optimus Prime that you were superior in Prime. That was cool." 

He lets out a sigh, and you take that as reason to be quiet. For some reason, you’re willing to trust the former outlier. He’s kind to you, and you know that there is a method to his so-called alien madness. He can tell. Soundwave eases up and continues. 

"Close your eyes." He requests. You aren’t about to disobey, or risk being stepped upon. With that, he continues. 

Finally, he stops. He holds you in front of him - AND OH GOD IS HE GOING TO KILL YOU, WHAT A WAY TO GO - and puts you in his lap. He shuffles and lays down. "Open." 

You do as he asks and are welcomed to a sea of stars. He still has a pair of arms wrapped around you, and you glance up, smiling. 

"I know I’m probably beating a dead Ravage by asking,” It doesn’t work, because he’s not a horse. “but why did you bring me here?" 

"To prove something to you,” he assures, ignoring the horrendous commentary about his weird robo-cat. 

“Listen, Soundwave, I’m totally for proving dumbasses like me wrong, but I’m missing the point here." You swear the windows error noise just played in your head. 

Your Cybertronian friend groans, and you let out a sigh, relaxing against his chest plate. 

"Fine, fine, I’ll be quiet." 

"Do you see those stars?” He asks. 

“Yeah, they’re a bunch'a neat lil explosions!" 

 "They have always served their purpose for your species. They have helped lead your ships’ captains in times of turmoil, and have created a permanent backdrop forcing you to think, to dream even." 

"I love stars as much as the next guy, but I’m not following, here, Soundy." 

"My point is, they have taught you that you are not alone." 

You pause and glance up at his face plate curiously, as he points to the sky. "If there were a Cybertron in your universe, that is where it would be.”

“So?” You dare ask. 

“Whenever you feel alone, remember that I am out there watching, that all of us are. I created a commune in hopes of creating a home for my fellow displaced Cybertronians, Decepticon, and Autobot. I taught Cosmos and so many others that they are not alone, and that’s what I aim to do for you." 

"You don’t have to worry about me.” You laugh, brushing it off. 

“You don’t know the impact you make on others, Red, how many lives you have changed." 

"With all due respect…I’m a senior in high school. I don’t need this kind of wisdom. I’m literally nothing." 

"And that’s where you’re wrong. My reasoning behind pointing out Cybertron and Sanctuary Station is we’re all -” He pauses, attempting to find the right word, “rooting for you. As long as we are real to you, we will never be far away. We’re here to help you recognize your own talents. You’re an artist. No matter what it is, it’s beautiful, and it blows us away. Your writing is well-spoken, intricate. Everything you do is beautiful, and reminds us, even us, of our own self worth, of our own importance. It’s time you start seeing all that we see in you." 

You swear you can hear his own spark pulsate or convulse, whatever the appropriate word is, and it’s as beautiful, as beautiful as his own words. You don’t know if you’re ready to believe him, but you swear he’s being honest. The former Decepticon is known for his loyalty and intellect, he isn’t deceitful like a certain seeker is made out to be. 

"Do you really mean that?” You ask hesitantly. “-that I’m important to even Cybertron?" 

"Of course I do. I don’t have to have telepathic abilities or be an Outlier to understand your importance. Keep focusing on your craft, and know, that someday soon, you will recognize these things in yourself and that you will be wonderful. Never forget who’s watching over you, and who’s rooting for you." 

You yawn and drift into sleep in the mech’s arms, your eyes closing to the feeling of his chestplate expanding and retracting. 

The next morning, you awake, knowing that someone who believes in you is looking out for you. You are wonderfully talented in every way shape and form. Never forget this as you finish your senior year of high school. You are going to change the world, I promise.

the only words i have are:holy shit i am literally crying

[magical-awesome-kid]

Allergic Interaction

Inspired by @edorazzi‘s BEAUTIFUL little OCs Amun and Carter and all of their antics, Miraculous’ titular character Chat Noir AKA Adrien and his affliction with feathers, and my recent jackpot of allergies. Enjoy!

Also found on AO3.

           Amun would say his luck with the accursed food was dismal at best.

           Hazelnuts, as he learned since his revival, were not, in fact, cursed but some sort of chemical thing, as Angelo put it, caused him to have a reaction in his immune system. Since his internal organs had recently been re-growing, that meant that former hives evolved into far worse reactions when exposed to the fatal nut.

           His luck was dismal because, even after learning of this and learning enough English reading to avoid it, they were in France, and, therefore, French was written everywhere. Amun hadn’t even thought to ask someone to read it to him - he knew the language of French but not how to read it - when he’d eaten that chocolate bar offered to him by one of the clerks at the museum.

           If not for Angelo’s quick grab for the Epinephrine pen upon seeing Amun go red and begin to wobble from dizziness, this might have been his second death.

           As it was, Amun was now sitting in a Parisian hospital an hour after arrival. They’d managed to easily stabilize him and get him mostly back to normal. “Mostly” because he had weird heart palpitations and only half the number of lungs he should have. Professor Carter and Angelo had escorted the doctor out about twenty minutes back to try to explain it away with various ��disorders” that he had causing such things, but Amun would put his gold on the language barrier holding them up.

           He sighed, still bored as he played with the bed sheets and cords sticking to his chest and registering his heart rate. The room he was in was nice, somewhere situated in the ER but close to the allergy wing. It had two beds, one of which Amun was stuck in for another two hours to make sure he didn’t slip back into anaphylactic shock. Honestly, the only thing he wanted to slip into was his sarcophagus to sleep another couple thousand years.

           When the door opened, Amun looked up hoping to see a familiar Carter face, but instead a nurse and a boy with blonde hair in a wheel chair came in. The blonde, who was handsome by most standards, was likely Amun’s age (minus the whole, you know, death and revival thing), and he gave off an edge of magic (the undead teen could always sense background magic - it was an apparent thing going from school, surrounded by the stuff, and home, where it was just the leftover specks from his earlier presence).

           The most noticeable thing, though, was that his skin was covered in hives and welts.

           The boy was put into the opposing bed and hooked up to an IV as a second nurse closed the divider shade. Amun could lightly see through as they administered medication and seemed to help him change into the hospital gowns. They were all speaking French quickly - mostly the adults asking medical questions and the teen answering, before the elders left with a word that a doctor would be by soon and, if something was wrong, hit the red button.

           Then, silence.

           Amun fiddled with his sheets once more. Should he say something? Was that appropriate? Gosh darn it, he was just getting used to AMERICAN social norms let alone French ones…

           “Uh, hello?” A soft yet rough voice called from the curtain as Amun looked over. “Uh, kid on the other side? You don’t happen to have the TV remote, do you?”

           Amun blinked before processing the words. “There’s… a TV in here?” He returned in French.

           There was some shuffling before the curtain pulled back. A tired blonde - now with IV and scrubs as well as being COVERED in some sort of cream - smiled back. “Yeah, it’s right there.” He pointed to a dark corner Amun had previously not paid enough attention to. Sure enough, a small flat screen lay there.

           “Ah… Oh Ra that would have made the first hour so much more bearable.” He bemoaned.

           The kid chuckled. “I know the feeling. I’ve been in this wing enough times to know the drill. Allergies?”

           “Yes, to the accursed hazelnut.” Amun returned as he sought out the remote. He spotted it on a table on the opposite side of his bed to the other teen. “What about you?”

           “Feathers. Or, well, feathers by pigeon barrage.” The boy made a face as he was offered the electric controller. “Thanks. Got any preferences? Or do you want me to mute it?”

           “Honestly, I’ll watch anything. And, please, do leave the noise on.” Amun smiled as the boy flipped on a cartoon show. “I am Amun, by the way, Amun Carter.” He offered a hand with his name. As part of Monster High’s “interesting” offerings, they’d established a legal personhood for the undead boy when he’d enrolled, including things like birth certificate and passport. Amun’s full name was used as his first while “Carter” had been chosen for his last.

           The boy turned back before offering a hand himself. “Adrien Agreste. You’re not from around here, are you?”

           Amun chuckled as he settled back. The cartoon was one he and Angelo had watched before - a “Ben Tenyson” alien show - though this was an old episode. “Yes, I am from… ah, well, Egypt and America. How could you tell?”

           “You have a really unique accent.” Adrien returned. “Egypt and America, huh? That’s got to be one unique story.”

           “Oh, like you wouldn’t believe…” Amun trailed off.

           Now it was Adrien’s turn to chuckle. “This is Paris, dude. Unless you can top spandex heroes and pigeon villains, I assure you your story can’t be that bad.”

           The ancient teen opened his mouth, ready to retort, when the words processed. “Wait, heroes??? Villains??? Like, on the TV?”

           “Wow, where have you been?”

           “Lost to the sands of Giza for thousands of years.”

           Adrien barked a laugh at the truth, taking it as falsehood even with Amun’s complete seriousness. “Well, this isn’t thousands of years old, but magical heroes and villains did start showing up here about a year ago. It’s kind of become our new normal for Chat Noir and Ladybug to come save the day whenever a monster is afoot.”

           Amun’s curiosity was perked as he ignored the show to press Adrien for more about these magical beings. Adrien was in his element as he sang the praises of the city’s heroes - especially Ladybug - and shown all the videos and articles from the Ladyblog using his phone. Apparently, that’s how he ended up here in the first place. An “akuma,” as they called it, had attacked the city using pigeons (again), and, while the heroes had stopped it and undone the damage, Adrien had been swept into a flock of birds and feathers after the spell on them had broken. The result was a massive allergic reaction and a trip to the ER.

           Amun bit his tongue, but, man, these teen heroes would have fit right in at Monster High. After all, magic and crazy powers? Evil villains? It was like another Tuesday for the mummy boy.

           “Fascinating. You know, I think I read somewhere that there was a magical red lady of luck in ancient times as well in Egypt.” Amun mentioned as he offered the phone back. Vaguely, he began to recall one of the bedtime stories his mother passed to him before her death. “Her and her partner, the night cat. She was of the burning heat and he the restful night. They protected the Nile from all who dare poison her life-giving waters. They were legionnaires of the gods.”

           Adrien’s eyes blew wide. “Seriously? Where’d you hear that?”

           “My mother told me stories… long ago.” He smiled fondly as he remembered her. “She passed when I was ten sol- ah, about ten years old.” He explained. “My adoptive uncle looked into her stories at one point and thinks there is evidence to it, like how the Sphinx was supposed to be a memorium to them both.”

           Adrien’s eyes, if possible, popped wider before they took in all the words. “That’s amazing but… I’m sorry about your mom.”

           “Thank you.” Amun returned genuinely. While many remembered him as the illegitimate son of a pharaoh, his mother was the one who truly raised him. Not since her passing had anyone given their condolences. “But she is in the afterlife on her journey through the underworld, and her heart was always lighter than air. I know that she is fine.”

           Adrien’s smile grew larger but somehow sadder. “I like that sentiment. My mom… my mom disappeared a little over two years ago, so I always try to keep her close to my heart, wherever she is.”

           The topic shifted then from tales of magic to that of mothers. Amun spun grand stories of a mother and child chasing through grand halls and playing simple games though she always cheated in the most ridiculous ways once Amun proved he was well and good at the games. Adrien, in turn, painted the mural of a loving, doting mother who taught him about life’s beauty and a love for knowledge and the world of science, who encouraged his pursuits wherever they took him, even if it ruined his designer clothes and drove his father mad.

           When the door was opened once more, the two teens were laughing just as a third entered. His dark black and blue hair was an instant recognition to Amun, who smiled in return. “Angelo! Where have you been?”

           Angelo raised an eyebrow as he stood tall. “Uh… what are you saying?”

           Amun realized that he was still speaking French and blushed. “Sorry.” He returned in English. “Forgot which language I was in.”

           “I do that sometimes when I get caught up.” Adrien grinned as he added in English.

           Amun spun around. “You speak English?”

           Adrien shrugged as he itched one of the badges that covered the worst of the warts. It was only now that Amun noted how most of the irritation had gone down or vanished altogether. “Enough not to totally sound like a moron.” He looked to the new entry. “Hi, my name is Adrien.”

           “…Angelo.” The American boy returned unsurely.

           Amun continued ignoring his boyfriend’s friend’s hesitance. “He and I are now… what did you call it? ‘Hospital allergy anime buddies?’ Well, he’s in here for allergies, too. I did not know birds could be cursed like this!”

           Adrien chuckled at Amun’s enthusiasm over their shared ailments. “I’m just glad this stuff is working.” He waved his hand around, skin noticeably more clearer now. “My father would have a fit if my skin and health were in jeopardy.”

           Angelo stared at Adrien longer. “Uh, have I seen you somewhere before? You look… you look very familiar somehow.”

           “He kind of resembles Bastet, I think.” Amun noted as he sensed the boy’s magic once more. “Very cat-like.”

           The blonde’s face was somewhere between guarded, humorous, and completely confused. “I… don’t know how to take that.”

           “Compliment.” The American answered as he pulled up a chair. “Being compared to an Egyptian God is always a compliment in Amun’s book. By the way, Amun, the doc said you could be out in about an hour. They had some concerns about the… you know…” Angelo vaguely gestured to his abdomen. “But the great Professor Carter has saved the day once more.”

           The mummy boy scratched his bed shirt (and under wrappings, which were still used as his skin had yet to knit itself back together fully even as his internal organs began to grow back) at the gesture. “I still do not understand why it is such a big deal.”

           The blue and black haired boy rolled his eyes. “And THIS is why I think you’ve spent too much time with Cloe.”

           The door swung open as a doctor and two nurses came in followed by a woman in a fashionable suit. The Carter boys looked in confusion as Adrien had full recognition on his face. “Natalie?”

           “Hello Adrien.” She nodded, ignoring the other teenage occupants of the room. “This is Doctor Danvers. He’s going to transfer you to another, private room for a full evaluation. Your father is attempting to return to the city now from his distribution house, but traffic is appalling post attack.”

           Adrien nodded and looked to the two boys. Natalie had, of course, spoken in French, so while Amun had understood her, Angelo was at a loss. “So, I’m getting transferred around, but it was great talking to you guys!” He smiled brightly. “Hey, you guys want to exchange numbers or something? If you’re still in the city for a few days, maybe we can hang out.”

           Natalie frowned at the boy’s words. “Adrien, you are very busy…”

           Amun ignored the woman as he cheered. “YES! We would love to talk on the fee-one.”

           “Phone. Cell.” Angelo corrected, Amun still occasionally having issues with modern technical terms even with his year spent reanimated in the modern time. Angelo, in turn, pulled around a backpack that had been hidden behind Amun’s chair. The teen rummaged around past English reading books (mostly for elementary school readers as Amun was still learning English) and found a notebook and pen. He quickly scribbled down a number and an email address before tearing the page and handing it to the Parisian teen. “Amun doesn’t have an international plan so just text me. That’s Amun’s email, though, “torankhreamun@m.high.edu,” if you want to contact him directly.”

           “You know, I’ve always wanted a pen pal!” Amun grinned at Adrien even as the Nurses began to move his bed out. “Don’t forget to contact us, alright?”

           Adrien gave a thumbs up. “I’ll make fur to do! Cat’s honor!”

           As the door closed behind the blonde, he heard a belly-splitting laugh and a snort, and the boy couldn’t have been more happy as he clutched the note to his chest. He’d made a new friend, and it was awesome.

           It wasn’t until Adrien was alone, though, that Plagg flew out from his shirt pocket, having hidden there since they’d been hauled off to the hospital. “Man, that kid reeked.”

           “Plagg! That’s rude!”

           “He reeked of the dead, kid.”

           “…what?”

           “Do I need to spell it out? He was a mummy. Undead being of Egypt. The magic was all over him. Now, were’s my cheese.”

           “Wait, WHAT???”

           “You know, I think Adrien would fit in well at Monster High.”

           “Why do you say that?”

           “I don’t know. He has a weird magic about him, like Catrine and Meowlody.”

           “So… Cat kid?”

           “Cat kid.”

           Angelo shrugged as he pulled out his iPod. “Honestly, a French Monster High would be more believable then all this about heroes and villains. Want a listen?”

           Amun accepted the offered earbud. “Oh, I don’t know. Did I ever tell you the story of the Red Lady Luck and her partner the Night Cat?”

[riverdaleroundup]

Riverdale Roundup: 2x04 “ The Town That Dreaded Sundown”

Okay shit is getting real now. I’m fresh off watching this new Riverdale and I would say that i’m shook but I mean honestly it was okay. I mean shit is starting to happen but i’m not yet on the edge of my seat.

So we open up the show and the  river vixens are prancing down the street in a little pack like a group of basic bitches on halloween. Honestly the sheer number of people who went as river vixens / or betty and veronica on halloween made my head hurt. Like if your costume is popping than okay cool we get it you like the show so you bought the yellow tube socks and the HBIC shirt and you’re living your best life but if you just put on a button up shirt and put your hair in a sloppy ponytail you’re not betty cooper so like sit the fuck down. That’s not a costume. That’s you pulling out a shirt that doesn’t fit from the back of your closet so you could try to feel relevant.

Alice Cooper is a grade A brutal bitch and I honestly live for her. She sits down in front of her computer, slips on her chic ass glasses and chugs that white wine ready to tear shit up with her cutting edge reporting. She slips into worried guilt tripping mother mode for a hot minute but still looks chic as fuck doing so. I just realized that she’s that cougar that Nate banged season 2 of gossip girl and i’m dying. Literally shook. Who is Alice to judge Grundy robbing the cradle when she and Nathaniel Archibald got it on on numerous occasions when he was a generous 16 years old.HOLY SHIT I JUST LOOKED AT HER IMDB PAGE AND SAW THAT SHE PLAYED SHERRY IN GILMORE GIRLS??!? How did i miss that? I literally just re watched the Sherry episodes. She looks so different. I’m dying.  But can we also talk about the inconsistent state of her bangs? Like one minute she’s got that casual middle part and the next she’s rocking a side swoop. I can’t keep up.

Okay so Betty wants Jughead to drive all the way to riverdale high to spend lunch with her. Like how long are their lunch breaks? Like honestly it was a struggle to make it down to mcdonalds and be back in time for english but these kids can skip all the way to the other side of town to enjoy a romantic lunch and still make it back in time for their joke of a literature class?.

I wasn’t paying enough attention to know what the sperant leader's name is but he looks very familiar to me. He kind of reminds me of like a cheaper version of Nat Wollf in the naked brothers band. Honestly any minute i’m expecting him to pull out a guitar and confess his love for Rosalinda.

Also this is the first time that i’ve heard official riverdale referred to as the north side and it kind of threw me off my game. Like we’ve had this whole south side angle working for a while now but i never once considered that they would call riverdale proper anything other than riverdale.

Okay what is with the remix of Archie's speech when he’s walking down the hallway. Like I’m sorry I didn’t know Archie Andrew’s music career ( which i totally forgot about until he lied about being home all night writing songs) had progressed so much that he was now mixing his own beats and headlining this year's coachella.

Kevin is just so forgiving. Like he was mad for like 10 minutes of one episode and now he and Betty are bff’s again.  Also he mentions his mom and I was like what? Kevin has a mom? Does she live out of state and pretend he doesn’t exist ala Jugheads mom?”

Also it’s just too much that Black Hood is like “ Omg Betty your cute speech about loving your friends and making Riverdale a nice place has inspired me to MURDER”. Now starts the shit that I hate. Betty is like i’ll tell the police a half truth and withhold important information. That is just way too pretty little liars for me. Those bitches never went to police with anything. I mean season one of riverdale these kids would find a used tissue and be like “ we have to tell Sheriff Keller about this” and now Betty thinks this is a cross she should bare alone. Kevin is right. Betty is in high school ( aka fifteen years old for fuck sakes) not the newest graduate of Quantico.

So both Toni and Jughead are into true crime and that means what? That they’re going to ride off into the sunset and listen to spooky criminal podcasts together for all of eternity? I already hate where this whole Toni/Jughead/ Betty triangle is going. It’s just so freaking typical and I can’t deal. I had hopes from last episode that they might just co exist for at least a little while but suddenly this episode Toni grows this bitch ass attitude and starts attacking Betty out of nowhere.  Betty was trying so hard  to avoid being the jealous girlfriend by being like “ I’m so nice you’re new best friend can crack the code with us and we can all be friends” . They’re having their little crime solver party and Toni makes a little comment about Betty's ponytail which would have been fine if she had said it like in a nice joking way but she starts coming for the hairstyle like the ponytail murdered her father right before her eyes and she’s been sworn to seek vengeance ever since. Kevin rips Toni a new one because Bettys pony is “ iconic” and he’s not here for any of her bullshit.  Than Betty makes literally the same comment that knock off Nat Wollf the serpent made about black hood targeting north siders but this time Toni feels personally attacked by this and decides that she needs to start poking holes in Jughead and Bettys relationship and being an over all annoying bitch.

Okay so the fake ID that Archie uses at the gun store looks like he made it himself on the back of a monopoly get out of jail free card. He’s getting together all his weapons so that he can what? Have a shoot out in the middle of the street with the masked man? Also why do they call his ski mask a hood? Archie keeps being like “ It’s not a Ski mask” but has the boy ever been to a mountain? That looks a lot like a mask to me.  So while Archie is gathering ammunition and literally painting the town red while waving a gun in the face of a couple of serpents, Veronica is making a rush order to vistaprint and somehow convincing Cheryl to help her hand out a lazily designed shirts.

So after Archie is banished from school for being locked and loaded  he sends Veronica to go toilet bowl fishing in order to retrieve his gun.  So Reggie is so grateful that Archie didn’t sell him out about the ski mask that he’s decided that him and the rest of the football team ( plus one boy scout) are willing to rejoin their not so secret society. But this makes no sense to me because it’s not like Reggie committed some heinous crime in that hood. He just showed up at Archies house in it to scare him.

But whatever i’ll let that go. The football team had to be there because conveniently the teenage branch of the south side serpents have just rolled up and are ready to rumble at midnight. Literally. Rumble. Have we slipped into an alternate universe? Am i watching west side story? The Sharks and the Jets are literally about to fight openly in the streets. Plus the whole way that Veronica was like “ fair fight! No weapons.” Is so west side that it makes me want to murder myself. Like if I couldn’t sit through a whole high school production of that play then I’m not looking to see it here. Is someone literally about to burst out into the chorus of America and bang their fist on a metal fence? But anyway.

The town meeting is called and it’s not a cute one like in gilmore girls. Alice Cooper is running this meeting. She wants to close down south side high but like how will that help? Are all those kids just going to go to riverdale high now or did she figure they would all just stay out on the streets in south side sans education? How would that save money? She’s so against the south side but like is that not her old stomping ground? What’s the beef Alice? What is your MO? Fred is all like Alice this is a time for us to be united and blah blah blah. Hiram and Hermione are muttering about Fred and is he a problem or is he an asset and i’m like enough with the secrets. Tell me the goods.  

The boys head out in the pouring rain like they’re about to shoot a dramatic Taylor Swift music video. They start to  fight in the streets and Archie is getting his ass handed to him. So Dilton gets stabbed but I got really confused. It kind of looked like he was the one who was pulling the knife? So did he stab himself for the drama or am I just a literal Psycho? Veronica shows up in her dramatic ass cape like in the season one premiere and fires the gun in the air which spooks all the boys like a group of nervous dogs around fireworks.

Jughead and Betty figure out that the code is from her old Nancy Drew workbook and head off to rescue everyone at the town meeting. Now the thing is who is this person that they know enough about Betty that they know that she used to check out that decode book all the time as a kid? That works with the idea that it could be Hal doing all of this but I really just don’t see it. But what do I know? Nothing.

So now the killer is making blocked calls to Betty because why the hell not. Here’s why that doesn’t work for me. In this day and age who the hell answers an unknown number? Not I. I barely answer the phone when people I know are calling.

That's it.

Until next Thursday. Byeeee.