#Retro Dog Mom

[beauty-funny-trippy]

The Pink Panther Strikes Again (1976)

[chandrakant750]

A Stellar Addition to My Wardrobe: Review of the Pomsky Tee

I'm a massive dog lover, and when it comes to fashion, I love incorporating my furry friends into my style. So, when I came across this adorable Pomsky tee, I knew I had to add it to my collection. Let me tell you, it did not disappoint!

Design that Steals the Show

The first thing that struck me about this tee was the captivating design. It features a beautifully stylized illustration of a Pomsky with a playful expression. The artist has captured the essence of the breed perfectly, with its fluffy fur a charming mix of white, gray, and black. But what truly elevates the design is the background – a stunning starry night sky. The colours are so vibrant, and the little details like the trail of shooting stars around the Pomsky make the entire image come alive.

Quality that Feels Pawsome

Often, graphic tees can feel stiff and uncomfortable. But this Pomsky tee is made from a soft, breathable material that feels great against the skin. It's perfect for those casual days out, or even for lounging around at home with your furry companion. The print itself is high quality, with crisp lines and colours that look like they'll last through multiple washes.

A Conversation Starter Wherever I Go

This tee is a real head-turner! I've received so many compliments on it whenever I wear it. It's a great conversation starter, especially with other dog lovers. People just can't resist the adorable Pomsky design, and it's a wonderful way to connect with fellow animal enthusiasts.

More Than Just a Tee, It's a Statement

For me, this Pomsky tee is more than just a piece of clothing; it's a way to express my love for dogs. It's a statement piece that shows the world my passion for these furry friends. Whenever I wear it, it puts a smile on my face and reminds me of the joy that dogs bring into our lives.

Overall, a Stellar Choice

If you're looking for a unique, stylish, and well-made tee that showcases your love for dogs, then the Pomsky tee is a perfect choice. It's comfortable, eye-catching, and a great conversation starter. Plus, the high-quality design and materials ensure it will be a staple in your wardrobe for a long time to come. I highly recommend it to any dog lover or anyone who appreciates a touch of whimsy in their fashion!

[dream-wave-creator]

At Dream Wave Creator, designed Tumblers that might be a spectacular holiday gift or a self-impression of yourself.

[bangjiazheng]

Onyanko Town (FC · Famicom) video game | 16-round (2 loops) session for ...

[nadal-designer]

[swimmingruinsdream]

Life Is Better With A German Shepherd Retro Vintage T-Shirt

"Unleash your love for German Shepherds with this retro vintage tee. Life is simply better with a loyal furry friend by your side. Get yours now!"

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[verisimilar-entropy]

Headcanons I've been cooking;

-the paradise theater doing a mystery science theater 3000 bit most days (I'm like 90% sure that its basically the equivalent in their multiverse anyway, oops)

-frank and clementine still tries to keep contact and make visits if even possible anymore. June likes to receive letters and postcards as a loose penpal relationship as proof of their "mad lib situation"

-I feel robbed that June and Ava didn't interact much, they'd have so much fun and nobody would be able to handle these bar buds. Never mind theres probably a reason why these two aren't allowed in a bar together, but I love their raw chaos and hijinks would definitely go on

-Gloria makes the storage closet her room at first but when Caspar gets back, he gives her the main office since she's da b0ss now, she still spends a lot of time camping with her bts wolves making stew for them, its her own therapy

-Leif putting together a game console for the gang when theyre bored, Caspar is the best at retro games surprisingly aside from the fact hes been asking for a pinball machine forever, everyone cracks old man jokes. Mostly David and Ava, his biggest hecklers <3

-eventually they begin to cultivate a small arcade, leif fixes up a few machines for the diner (its free) kids across the cosmos go 'you mean you have to play the game with your hands?? Its like a baby's toy :/" caspar is flabbergasted, Leif just shrugs and goes "i warned you bro" and does more Leif shit

-David plays cod on their designated staff console in the office space in their down time between shifts. Feet kicked up and the lazy fan blowing, do you see my vision? this is the most important highlight so far

-David used to stream sometimes on earth in LA for funsies now and then during lockdown when he wasnt up for running out at night vandalizing the blank canvas known as the streets

-he still talks to his mom and plays catch up even from space despite the time it takes to send messages. David continues to find her drunk calls entertaining (canon anyway) Caspar doesn't really drink alcohol and is worried about the loss of control, I think hes just anxious and insecure about it.

*I don't really think caspar was much of a dick when he drank raising david, he probably was a rambling annoying dad with a shitty attitude that was hard to tolerate. like, okay, old man, we get it the world sucksss stop being so sad and let's play legos and not roleplay the state of the economic decline about it (shh, I'm not projecting gay son and drunk well meaning dad dynamics)

-Ava peer pressures Caspar *only* for celebrations anyway

-micheladas for everyone the next day, some sweet hair of the dog when the various drank theyre able to get their hands on is too much to cope with the next day if they still even have moonshine to spare left

-Leif stocks up on so much fucking hash whilst in Pasadena (as one does stuck in shitty corners of California for hangovers, generalized depression, and dread. hence all the alcohol mentions I'm not promoting alcoholic diner dwellers I swear-) which tbh parallels the way Ava stocks up nicotine from ye old moonshiner imo

Idk I have more I might add and tack on later I love these doofuses

[rhondafromhr]

Headcanon that Grace’s love language is media. She obviously has a lot of hangups about physical touch and I feel like she wouldn’t be the best at using words to comfort people (love her but she’d probably accidentally say something that made them feel even worse lol), so if one of her friends is distressed she’ll put something on (movie, show, video game, etc) that she either knows is their favorite or thinks they’ll like. She’s weirdly good at guessing, too, and she’s helped them all discover new favorites.

With Steph, whenever her dad says something that really stings (even if Steph will never admit it and will say she’s just annoyed that he won’t get off her case), they watch so much trash reality TV together. Grace insists that it’s sinful filth and she’s only tolerating it for Steph’s sake, but she gets super invested to the point of actually yelling at the TV and it never fails to get Stephanie to crack a smile. Stephanie’s actually gotten into Twitter beefs with a couple cast members from previous seasons of Love Island (they just HAD to defend that problematic dog) and Grace thinks that’s the coolest thing ever.

With Pete, it’s old school video games. He has every retro console imaginable and especially likes the older Legend of Zelda games. Whenever he’s feeling down, Grace just has to get him rambling about the lore and showing her all the hacks and Easter eggs in the games and soon he forgets whatever was bothering him.

With Richie, it’s the Danganronpa games. Whenever they figure out who did it, she has endless thoughts on why the culprit’s plan was stupid and what they should have done differently to not get caught and Richie finds it both amusing and mildly concerning. They also watch a lot of anime in general (obviously, it’s Richie after all) and he’s endlessly fascinated by Grace’s deep analysis of the religious symbolism he didn’t catch on his previous watches.

With Ruth, it’s classic movie musicals. Ruth has a lot to say about them and the influence they’ve had on musicals today and at first, whenever she catches herself rambling about it she apologizes for being annoying and gets super flustered and embarrassed, but Grace encourages her to keep going because at least Ruth isn’t crying anymore. Grace actually really enjoys the music and the pretty costumes and larger than life choreography. She also appreciated that there was no sex/vulgarity in them until Ruth ruined it by explaining that there totally is, they just had to rely on more subtle innuendo. As a wise man once said, a song is a dick in sheep’s clothing. They also watch newer musicals sometimes, although they’re limited to ones that have pro shots or movie versions available because Grace refuses to watch bootlegs. Once Ruth’s really comfortable with her, she points out all the characters that are dream roles of hers and how she’d portray them.

With Max (assuming a Max lives/gets redeemed AU), it’s cartoons. He’s reluctant to admit to liking them because he’s worried it’ll make people think he’s stupid and childish, but one day he came to her house looking like he’d been crying after his dad really went in on him for failing a test and she put on Gravity Falls at random. She doesn’t approve of the satanic magic it promotes, but he seemed to like it and she would have done anything to get that devastated look off of his face and make him stop putting himself down. They also regularly watch Veggie Tales together after they discover they both grew up watching it.

She also makes them a cup of hot water to sip on because that’s what her mom always does for her when she’s sad. They all think it’s weird, but they still drink it because they appreciate the gesture and over time it sort of grows on them.

[animalcrossingshowdown]

Furniture items and sets round 1 results:

Items:

Froggy chair 90.6% / Leo sculpture 9.4%

Mush lamp 83.9% / Cancer table 16.1%

Mom's homemade cake 77.9% / Skull rug 22.1%

Afternoon-tea set 76.4% / My Melody clock 23.6%

Star clock 75.2% / Anatomical model 24.8%

Lily record player 74.7% / Scattered papers 25.3%

Dried-flower garland 72.6% / Rose bed 27.4%

Virgo harp 70.2% / Rescue mannequin 29.8%

Wooden music box 70.1% / Bathtub with yuzu 29.9%

Snail clock 69.1% / Imperial dining table 30.9%

Spooky cookies 67.8% / ACNH Nintendo Switch 32.2%

Plain party-lights arch 67% / Cinnamoroll sofa 33%

Moon 67% / Hyacinth lamp 33%

Greenhouse box 66.4% / Soft-serve lamp 33.6%

Dreamy rabbit toy 66% / Elephant slide 34%

Crescent-moon chair 65.2% / Retro stereo 34.8%

Toy duck 65% / Lovely phone 35%

Dreamy wall rack 61.7% / Throwback skull radio 38.3%

Lucky cat 59.2% / Decayed tree 40.8%

Tiny library 59.2% / Kerokerokeroppi bridge 40.8%

Fortune-telling set 59.2% / Cucumber horse 40.8%

Resetti model 58.5% / Titan arum 41.5%

Wheat field 55.1% / Zodiac dragon figurine

Paper tiger 54.5% / Colorful juice 45.5%

Cherry-blossom pond stone 54.4% / Rocket lamp 45.6%

Hamster cage 53.5% / Monster statue 46.5%

Starry garland 53.3% / Bonsai shelf 46.7%

Balloon-dog lamp 52.2% / Eggplant cow 47.8%

Creepy skeleton 52.2% / Elaborate kimono stand 47.8%

Mom's plushie 52% / Pergola 48%

Peach chair 51.1% / Dessert case 48.9%

Rattan towel basket 50.9% / Cherry-blossom branches 49.1%

1 ) I can't believe you guys voted out lovely phone, the entire reason I'm adding functions to these posts, in round 1

2 ) I can't believe you guys voted out cherry-blossom branches, the item that was positioned as second most likely to win based on number of submissions, in round 1

Sets:

Spooky 89.1% / Throwback 10.9%

Motherly 84.9% / Kiddie 15.1%

Shell 83.1% / Chess 16.9%

Sloppy (classic) 83.1% / Sloppy (ACNH) 16.9%

Rococo 81.6% / Elegant 18.4%

Insect 81.4% / Mario 18.6%

Glowing moss 78.2% / Ruined 21.8%

Mermaid 77.6% / Harvest 22.4%

Cute 76.3% / Lovely 23.7%

Modern 71.9% / Construction 28.1%

Ironwood 71.5% / Hello Kitty 28.5%

Fish 71.5% / Plaza 28.5%

Sweets 70.6% / My Melody 29.4%

Alpine 70.2% / Nordic 29.8%

Stars 69.6% / Gorgeous 30.4%

Cherry blossoms 68.5% / Blue 31.5%

Rattan 67.1% / Astro 32.9%

Flower 66.7% / Diner 33.3%

Fruit (ACNH) 66.7% / Fruit (classic) 33.3%

Antique 65.6% / Classic 34.4%

Modern wood 62.7% / Green 37.3%

Log 62.6% / Cabin 37.4%

Princess 62.6% / Card 37.4%

House plants 61.5% / Kerokerokeroppi 38.5%

Ranch (ACNH) 60.7% / Ranch (classic) 39.3%

Dreamy 58.3% / Wedding 41.7%

Mush (classic) 55.1% / Mush (ACNH) 44.9%

Patchwork (classic) 54.6% / Patchwork (ACNH) 45.4%

Kiki & Lala 53.9% / Moroccan 46.1%

Regal 51.2% / Cinnamoroll 48.8%

Robo 51% / Cardboard 49%

Gracie 50.6% / Imperial 49.4%

As you can see I've colour coded the sets by game. NL is pink, NH is blue, and sets that didn't really change between games are purple.

For the redesign matches, it was an even split between NH and NL. out of 10 redesign matches, they each won 5.

It's easier for me if all the new polls post in a row with no gaps between, so round 2 will start in a few days to give the hourly tournament a chance to catch up! This should be the only round where I have to do that.

[mycomicbox]

Random Thoughts on Live A Live

🕑 General:

I'd like to make it known that I'm jumping into this game almost completely blind. All of my prior knowledge of Live A Live comes from this video.

Beautiful presentation, though that's pretty characteristic of the 2D-HD look. More retro games should be remade in this style.

This soundtrack slaps, as to be expected from Yoko Shimomura.

One complaint: why is the file menu so laggy when the rest of the game runs fine?

I'm choosing to play the chapters in chronological order, beginning with Prehistory and ending with Distant Future. I'm also playing with the English dub.

🍖 Prehistory:

Fred Flintstone called. He wants his car back.

I can't say that I've ever played a JRPG with zero dialogue.

I like the item and ability descriptions. Why many word when few work?

...My party members can fart and throw shit at enemies. 7-year-old me would've been rolling on the floor laughing.

Pink gorilla harem to the rescue.

GO GO GADGET CROTCH LIZARD

🐼 Imperial China:

Interesting how you play as a kung fu master teaching his techniques to his disciples, rather than the reverse, like in other stories. Fitting that Shifu is at the max level from the start.

This chapter's narrative really feels like an old tale from ancient China, what with a kung fu master single-handedly defeating dozens of men and tigers, entrusting his techniques to his student, and passing away.

I wonder if any student could have been Shifu's surviving disciple in this chapter. For me, it was Hong, but Yun or Lei probably could have been the new master. (UPDATE: I looked this up after the fact, and I was right.)

🍡 Twilight of Edo Japan:

I like Oboromaru's design. He looks fun to cosplay.

Really cool how there are no-kill and no-mercy routes. I tried (and failed) aiming for the no-mercy route, but I'll have to check out this chapter again some time.

Okay, so the Edo period is a little more recent than I initially thought, considering that a few characters have firearms.

Can't trust a single mf in this whole chapter smh

🤠 The Wild West:

I've heard that a few terms in this chapter were changed between the Super Famicom release and this remake. Like, the ointments and jerky used to be alcohol and cigars in the original.

That "your mom" joke got me good.

The part with the townsfolk trapping the town was really cool. Feels very fitting for the setting, and I like how it has a tangible gameplay effect.

I've seen that Sundown and Mad Dog are a semi-popular pairing, and I can definitely see why.

🏋‍♂️ Present Day:

I love Masaru's gimmick of learning techniques from other fighters. He's like a physical variant of Final Fantasy's Blue Mage job.

The saxophone in this chapter's battle theme slaps so hard.

🏙 Near Future:

First time in this game that a character directly addressed me, the player.

Psychic powers are one of the coolest tropes in fiction. The MOTHER series got me hooked on it years ago.

In terms of battle capabilities, poor Akira is probably the weakest of the protagonists, or at least he felt weaker to me.

This chapter feels like I'm playing through a mecha anime. I dig it.

🔧 Distant Future:

Not to get political or anything, but I would die for Cube. I want a plush of them.

something something Among Us joke

When OD-10 commandeers the ship, it even takes over the loading screen tips...

This chapter may have my favorite narrative.

-

⭐️ [A new chapter has been unlocked.]

-

⚔️ Middle Ages:

His fight for heroism was in vain.

Betrayed by an ally, framed as a murderer, denounced by his country and his lady...

With nothing to lose, he gives his heart to the Dark.

Odio.

-

⭐️ [A new chapter has been unlocked.]

-

The Dominion of Hate - Oersted:

From what I've read, choosing Oersted here will lead into a unique (and short) take on the final chapter, adding yet another incentive for replayability. In games with multiple endings, I like to view the bad endings first.

Through pure misanthropy, I'm retconning the outcomes of previous battles to ensure hatred's victory. That is so cool... and so depressing.

There are actually two outcomes to this chapter. The first is by beating all 7 battles, where Odio simply celebrates his success. The other is far more crazy, only achieved by being knocked to critical HP during any of the fights. Odio just... fucking blows up the world in order to recreate it.

The Dominion of Hate - Hero's Route:

I chose to begin this chapter as Oboromaru, mainly because I like the variety of elements in his skillset.

Not gonna lie, this was when the game lost a bit of steam for me. Due to the lack of fast travel or a detailed map, the last few dungeons were a bit of a chore to get through. It's why I put off this chapter for a while.

Even though this is a modern remake, some mechanics in this chapter still carry that air of '90s JRPG crypticness (which could be a positive or negative depending on the gamer). Like, I stumbled into Akira's dungeon on complete accident! And how was I supposed to know about the hidden boss you encounter by fleeing 100 times?

That final boss phase was pretty bittersweet, what with Oersted opening his heart again, freeing himself from Odio. And to think it was a brand new addition, exclusive to this remake.

💭 Final Thoughts:

If I had to describe Live A Live in one word, it'd be... unique! I can't really say I've played any other RPG like it, with each chapter being a mini-adventure with its own unique gimmick. At the same time, it's not just a bunch of demos, as it still manages to come together into a well-written narrative about choosing trust over misanthropy, despite it all. It's almost unbelievable that a game like this released in 1994!

I'm not exactly dying for a sequel, but I can't help but wonder what a "Live A Live II" would look like. Not a direct story continuation, of course, but I'm thinking something like the Final Fantasy or Shin Megami Tensei series (where each game is standalone, yet also shares common elements). I might draw my ideas some time.

Overall, a fun and interesting hidden gem, and I'm glad that it got a well-deserved remake.

[wildpeachfarm]

cracks my little paw knuckles OK SO!!! these are copy pasted from someones retro where i expanded on it over ther

so!!! hybrids vs purebreeds. purebreeds are what hybrids call well. humans. and hybrids are obv hybrids, and them in soceity comes with bigotry and slurs and laws and lives becoming political and if youre a hybrid you Must be supporting this president or this political party dogs are called mutts. thats. p self explanitory i feel LMAO idk ones for cats tho? im sure the pred vs prey thing is an innercircle issue, with preds being called bloodthirsty monsters and prey being called brittle boned (???) but down to the nitty gritty of two species: dogs and cats dogs have firmer paw pads, duller claws, most of them have ears, all have tails, and theres obv the knot. cats i already described to sea in a bit (always having ears, sharper claws, squishier paw pads, always having tails, and spiked tongues) and with being a dog or a cat, there comes... problems. the topic of children and heats and ruts get brought up almost constantly if ur still in ur teens. then theres packs and clans, the social pressure to become a leader or a parent, god forbid having a job with how you are. animal instincts interferring with human instincts. the pressure to be more human. hide your ears hide your tail dont let people know youre not Them, youre It. getting fixed only means you'll be looked down upon by the wider population. keeping them means you're seen as a gross pred wanting to fuck anything that moves. collars for preds while prey live happily within interspecies relationships the working class and blue collar jobs are filled with pred hybrids, sometimes humans. theyre worked to the bone to come home and filter money into bills and rent and groceries and have 10 bucks leftover. at least its a bit more than last time, but you cant pay for shit now. pred neighborhoods being regarded as sketchy and unsafe when all theyre trying to do is make a living like some higher up bun leeching off of bus fares and the blue tailed bears down below building a new prey only office building (can you tell i liked the og plot of zootopia More.) then theres dream. dream grew up relatively normal, no tail, no ears. his parents assumed the best: he was purebred! but.. he started acting differently as a toddler. a tail sprouted and he growled and snarled and barked at others. his parents started to fear the worst. was he a hybrid? that... he cant be a hybrid. he's be bullied by purebreeds and would have to be outcasted and live with other hybrids. his parents are purebred- how can they have a hybrid? and it turns out he Is a hybrid. a dogboy to be specific. and he gets lucky, very lucky. he grows up in a purebred town and while everyones reluctant to have a dog running the streets ("what if he gives my daughter rabies!?" "he got his rabies shot"). sure he might look a bit different from other dogs, but hes alright. helps him blend in more george is an oddball. grew up in a family of purebreeds like dream, but less lucky. he had at least one cat relative, he knows that at least. its why his mom always commented on his bigger feet. a lion, he guesses. better a housecat than a fucking lion his tails a bit wonky, his ear tip is folded over. he doesnt act right, not like a human not like a cat. dream doesnt either, but its chalked up to "dogs will be dogs". its why he didnt get diagnosed with adhd for a while. george inspects things, rubs all over them to mark his territory. he thinks weird and acts weird and is a little sideways, a little to the left and never quite centered like his family. he gets yelled at for not acting correctly, "why are you like this?! why cant you just act like the rest of us?!" i dont know, i cant, im not purebred like you he does things very few hybrids are known for: going to college, getting an compsci degree, rejecting blue collar jobs and refusing to be placed under the paw of some lamb in parliment

neuters and spays. treated the same as abortions, really. those getting fixed are screamed at for killing future babies, for not thinking of the children and how the country will prosper with new youngins. but they know how theyll be treated, its a blessing really george thinks of being neutered. he brings it up during dinner and never again once he gets the expected reaction. his tail flicks and he tries his best to not let his ears flatten, but it happens anyway. his dad comments on how no vet will fix a stray like him (thats a lie, a lot of vets will fix a hybrid for the right price) anatomy is never really taught. sex isnt taught to preds bc of how "sexually obsessed they are, freaks". prey are taught consent, preds are taught that its best to stick with preds and never entangle with prey, or god forbid, purebreed dream is taught to ultimately just Care about others (although he has some unlearning to do abt preds), and george is taught to never trust prey or purebreeds. they only cause trouble and theyll fuck you over anyway its why years later, he doesnt talk to sapnap. bc sapnap is a purebreed. he was taught to never trust those things. ever. talking to them would only cause him to end up convicted of a crime he never did and lose his money and be back in england in some stupid fucking apartment

looks at youwith my autistic hyena eyes

oooh this is neat! :0

[authortobenamedlater]

I’m going to be up until at least 4:00am and I can’t stop thinking about John’s family and the Reach for Life project.

I’ve decided John gets his artsy side from his mom. She painted a family picture that is still in the house on Eridanus. Someday John will stumble across it.

His parents don’t like how technology has invaded every single aspect of daily life (surely this is still a concern in 500 years), especially once they have John. They’re drawn to Reach for Life because the Eridanus II colony specifically eschews “unnecessary” tech use. Notice the kids are all playing in the dirt in the Keyes and Halsey flashback, everyone dresses like a retro futuristic Little House on The Prairie, and we don’t see any screens in John’s childhood home. In his flashbacks he’s always playing outside or drawing. There’s also firewood in the home (I just watched this episode and noticed a few things haha).

While Reach for Life is certainly suspect, John’s family is not, to me. I really think they were your average everyday mom and dad looking to do the best for their little boy. They wanted a good, wholesome environment to raise John and Eridanus looked like it would offer that. Which gets in my mom feels a little because that’s how the Spartan program got him.

Much as I’d like Papa and Mama 117 to be around somehow, I think they died with the plague (which was TOTALLY A FLUKE, there was NO CONSPIRACY, and CATHERINE HALSEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH IT). I also think they had strong suspicions that Flash Clone John was not their John. Ellie the dog knew it too.

I gotta get ready to get back to work maybe I’ll have more later.

[dream-wave-creator]

At Dream Wave Creator, designed Tumblers that might be a spectacular holiday gift or a self-impression of yourself.

[supernovasilence]

The Song Stuck In My Head

Late, but I'm determined to keep going with Futuristic Four Week. Prompt 2 was Role Swap, so please take this offering of time traveler!Hiro, actor!Wilbur, superhero!Penny, and scientist!Violet. I just want to get this posted so this is rushed and wildly unedited; I might clean it up before posting to ao3.

Summary: Something is wrong with the timeline. Gen/friendship, drama, mention of injuries but nothing super graphic.

Hiro’s hands shook, but he gulped in a deep breath and forced them steady. He couldn’t afford to spill any fuel.

He only had enough for one jump left as it was. If he ran out mid-travel…

Well, one way or another, he wasn’t redoing this.

He finished loading in the fuel, triple-checked that he had everything packed, quadruple-checked he had the right coordinates punched in, and drew in another deep breath.

A photo beamed at him from the dashboard: an old-fashioned polaroid, faded and crumpled now, the faces of the four kids in it starting to blur. The energy from repeated jumps was corroding the film. Sometimes it felt like it was doing the same to Hiro’s memory.

He pushed activate.

~

Flash!

Wilbur grinned into the light bursting across his face. He waved, paused for another storm of flashes, and kept weaving through the crowd. Flash—flash—flash; it seemed to take forever for him to reach the sanctuary of a bathroom.

Thankfully, it was empty. Wilbur exhaled hard and leaned on the sink. Looking up, he saw his reflection staring back at him. He was still grinning widely.

He shook his head like a dog shaking off water, grin dissolving somewhere along the way.

“Come on, Wilbur, keep it together,” he told himself.

He didn’t know why he felt so off tonight; premieres were easy. No acting to do except act like a cool, handsome TV star, and that Wilbur Robinson didn’t have to fake. Smile and wave and make sure to be seen by all the cameras, and don’t say anything rude to anyone. Easy peasy.

He was just…tired of events right now. He’d just come off a flurry of interviews to promote the new season, and now had bunch of premiers to attend (movies from the same studio they wanted to drum up publicity for), and after that they were jumping right back into filming for next season—Wilbur couldn’t remember the last time he’d been home.

One of his family members was always with him during shoots, of course, and he called the rest regularly, but it wasn’t the same. And just hanging out at the mall or park or chargeball court with friends seemed like a dream anymore.

For a moment, it really did seem like a dream. The mirror in front of him shimmered, and instead of pretentious tile, he saw funkily patterned carpet and neon lighting. A retro-style arcade, a Japanese boy with a robot hoodie leaning against a pinball machine, the redheaded girl playing scolding him not to make it tilt, mouth moving silently across the glass while the boy laughed just as silently, and the black-haired girl walking up to them with bags of gummy frogs and popcorn turned and looked back at—

Wilbur was standing in a glitzy bathroom staring at his own reflection. He felt dizzy for a moment, and then he had a headache, but by the time he rubbed at his temples, it had already gone.

“What the—”

He tapped the mirror. A second later he looked frantically around, but luckily the bathroom was still empty.

“Okay, I think that’s enough soda for one night. There’s no way I actually…”

Actually saw…he’d seen something right? He couldn’t remember what he’d thought was so strange about the mirror now.

Shrugging, Wilbur splashed some water on his face, checked his hair was perfect (it was, of course), and went back to rejoin the paparazzi party.

~

Penny climbed in her window and closed it as quietly as she could. It was harder than usual; her shoulder throbbed angrily. Peeling off her supersuit, she saw a nasty purple-black splotch across her upper arm.

She groaned—quietly; her mom did not need to know Penny was sneaking out to fight supervillains—and dug around for the first aid kit she kept under her bed. Crouching down and stretching out her arm didn’t play nicely with her tired body, and she teetered. A wave of vertigo swept her.

She fell, and while she fell her hands rubbed antiseptic into a cut on a girl’s arm, serious scarlet-and-black supersuit tied about her waist to reveal a cheery bubblegum pink tank top and a circus of bruises across her skin.

“Ow,” yelped one of the boys beside her, the one in the purple armor, as the one with hair like a black cockatoo’s crest tried to pull the armor off without jostling the other’s sprained wrist.

“This is exactly why you need our help,” complained the crested boy. “If you let us fight with you, you wouldn’t come home all banged up.”

“You don’t have any powers.” The armored boy shook his head. “It isn’t safe.”

“Neither do you!”

“I have genius intelligence and high-tech armor.”

“So why can’t you make us armor?” Penny asked.

“Do you really want to go through this every day?” the girl said, gesturing at her scraped up arm, as sarcastic as she was kind. “You two should—”

And then Penny slammed onto her bedroom floor, breathless and stinging with rugburn.

She just lay there, her shoulder aching and her eyes watering, but a moment later she realized her mom might have heard the thump and come to check on her. She grabbed the first aid kit and jumped under the covers with it.

When fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of her mom, Penny decided she was safe, and climbed out of bed again.

It took a bit of willpower; her bed was soft and she just wanted to go to sleep. She wasted no time changing fully out of her costume and into pajamas. Something flicked inside her head as she opened the first aid kit, pressed against the inside of her skull as she scrubbed dirt from her skinned palms and raw knuckles.

Crime-fighting would be so much easier in a team, she thought—and then was struck by how familiar the question was, like she’d asked it a dozen times before. Whatever it was pressed harder against Penny’s thoughts.

She almost had enough energy let to be curious about it. But the feeling came with a sense of vertigo, and she’d already fallen enough tonight. She shook her head, and was surprised to find her eyes wet; they shouldn’t still be stinging from her fall. She wiped them and pulled out ointment for her aching shoulder. A thought tried very hard to get into her head as she rubbed the ointment into her arm, but it wouldn’t come clear, and she was too tired to chase it. Maybe it wasn’t a thought at all, only exhaustion.

Shoving the first aid kit back under the bed, Penny climbed back under the covers. This time, she didn’t fight her weariness.

~

Violet rubbed her eyes, then looked at her worksheet again. The numbers refused to come clear. She glared at them.

“Oh, sure,” she mocked her past self. “I’ll just do a quick little investigation into the weird readings, even though Mr. Harrington told me it was just the sensors glitching. How long could it take? It’s not like being a teenager in college is hard enough.”

She sank back in her seat and sighed in frustration.

The thing was, the sensors were getting weird readings. And these weren’t the local weather station’s thermometer and windsock. These were state of the art pieces of equipment from a college science department—and a pretty good college, too; Violet’s scholarship afforded her that. Atmospheric pressure, gravitational shifts, a dozen other things that shouldn’t all be interconnected but were, somehow, in some pattern Violet could not figure out: they all said something was strange about the world.

Violet was pretty sure they said something was wrong.

But she couldn’t prove it, and if she didn’t do her actual homework, she was going to flunk right out of her scholarship. Shoving her hair angrily back from her face, she turned to grab her calculus notebook.

The cover shifted as she reached for it. It shook again, and again, harder each time, and then it flew open. The pages flipped past at high speed and the papers she had shoved inside it went flying. Violet shrieked and grabbed for them, but the whole room was suddenly filled with papers and empty chip bags and clothes and everything else light enough to be swept up by the wind buffeting the walls. Violet leapt for the window only to slam into cold glass; it was already closed. She whirled and stared at the room, clinging to the windowsill.

There was a flash of light—a deafening silence that left her ears ringing. And then everything was still. Lying on the floor in the middle of the room, where the chaos had been worst, was a small, metal object.

Violet walked over cautiously, waiting any moment for the laws of physics to go haywire again. They didn’t. She crouched down and peered at the object. It looked a little like a cellphone, and a lot like a prop from an old sci-fi TV show, assuming that prop had spent the last few decades being dropped and tossed in basements and dug out by kids who repaired it with duct tape and aluminum foil so they could use it to play space invaders. The cracked screen was blank and dark.

“You better not be giving off radiation,” Violet muttered, and picked it up.

The screen flickered to life.

“…ome in…nny? Wilbur? Anyo…Guys, if you’re there, please come in.”

Violet yelped and almost dropped the whatever-it-was (a communicator, apparently).

“Hello?” The crackly, compressed voice came again. “Is someone there? Hold on—”

The static covering the screen jerked, wavered into a different pattern of static, jerked again, and cleared enough for Violet to see a boy her own age looking out. He had either ash or a bruise smudged over his cheek, and around him Violet saw glimpses of tangled wires and control panels askew in their settings in…what? A machine? A lab? Wavering, distorted images moved nauseatingly on a glass panel behind the boy’s head.

He looked up from whatever buttons he was worrying over and at the screen with a rather desperate expression. His entire face lit up.

“Violet?” He laughed in disbelief, then whooped, pumping his fist in the air and directly into the glass overhead; it must be a dome, because the entire thing bonged ominously. He flinched away, looking fearfully at it, but nothing happened. He shook his hand. “Ow… Violet, are you okay?”

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?”

He stared, and then his frantic look came back.

“No, no, you have to know me. It wasn’t supposed to be this long—you should still remember—”

“Remember what? Who are you?”

The boy looked at her, and for a moment she thought he might cry. She was left breathless at how much it hurt. Something inside her sat up and whispered inaudibly along as the boy said:

“Hiro. I’m Hiro Hamada. I’m your friend.”

“I’ve never met you before.”

“But you should have; don’t you get it?” Violet just stared at him. He shoved his hands into his hair. “We’re best friends—us and Wilbur and Penny. But something happened, and now everything’s wrong.”

He stopped to draw in a breath. This was Violet’s chance to tell him whatever he was mixed up sounded dangerous, and if he kept stalking her, she was going to call the police. And then turn off the communicator. But he looked so upset, and the communicator had appeared in her room in the middle of indoor storm. And something was wrong. She knew it was.

Hiro was the first person who’d believed her.

She sat on her bed and tightened her grip on the communicator.

“What do you mean, ‘wrong’?” she asked.

“I don’t know exactly.” Hiro gestured in frustration. “I think the timeline got changed. I just keep getting weird readings on everything, but I don’t know what they mean! I think maybe time travel’s not actually my field, so I don’t really know what I’m doing. Except I don’t know how I know that, and—”

“What’s the tensile strength of steel?” Violet blurted.

“Uh—” Hiro blinked at her. “It’s, it’s not a constant. It depends on the grade of the steel and thickness of your material.You want to consider yield strength and elongation percentage, too, so depending on what you’re building…”

He trailed off, then drew in an uneven breath. He looked at Violet with wide eyes. She looked back with a hammering heart.

“Let’s not go off in a spiral,” she said, snarky tone rather shaky.

“How did you know to do that?” Hiro asked.

Violet shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then she watched determination spark in Hiro’s eyes.

“Something’s wrong with the timeline, and now I have to put it right. We have to put it right.”

“Who’s we?” Violet asked, even though part of her felt she already knew, lost names on the tip of her tongue…

“You and me, Wilbur, and Penny. I—” Hiro suddenly looked sheepish. “I don’t really know who they are, or you. But the anomalies all center around the four of us, so either we did something in the original timeline, or someone else was messing with time travel and we’re involved. Does that makes sense?”

“None of this makes sense.” Violet’s head was spinning. “How do you even fix a broken timeline?”

“I think we can if we put things back the way they were. There are rules about time travel—key events? I’m kinda guessing here. I was hoping you’d know.”

“I don’t know.” Violet hesitated. “Maybe one of the others does.”

“You see what I’m dealing with?” Hiro cried. “I know things, but I don’t know how I know. I definitely think one of you knows more about time travel than I do. I was trying to fix things, but I messed up. The last jump stranded me…whenever this is, and now I don’t have enough fuel to get out. I barely managed to get the comm out.” He looked around at the swirling colors. “I think I’m between whenevers, actually.”

Violet realized the wavering scenes weren’t on the glass, but behind it. A shiver of horror went down her back.

“Is there anything you can do?”

Hiro looked back at her, and the fear in his face softened away again. He grinned at her.

“I have a plan. But I need your help—Wilbur and Penny, too, if we can find them.”

Violet hesitated again. This was insane. And if it wasn’t insane it was wildly dangerous, not just to her but potentially to the entire world—the entire time-space continuum. But she liked Hiro’s grin. She felt like she could take on the world with that grin at her side. Maybe the four of them had, in the old timeline.

“I’m going to be grounded for a decade if we destroy the universe, you know,” she said. “What do you need me to do?”

[pplatonic]

Baby's First Pride

I'm 16 and a half years old. I came out to my parents inspired by a story at my school's GSA - just walk up the stairs and call it out. I was terrified, but they were accepting, and I learnt that my brother has trans friends and that Mom even experimented with girls when she was a teen. It's 5:10 PM, so it's probably time to go to the pride event Mom has been talking about all week. She said her boss told her about it, and that it's all ages. I get dressed in my Hatsune Miku cosplay, drape my Aromantic pride flag around my shoulders, and tie the ends in a reef knot around my neck to wear it as a cape.

I go downstairs, putting my Miku wallet in my bag, and take a short video of me twirling around to send it to my friends captioned 'ARO MIKU IS GOING TO PRIDE.' When I get outside, my parents and Mom's friend coo at my outfit, saying I look nice. They say goodbye to Mom's friend and they get ready, and they stop at Walmart to buy 'pride gear' to try and match my look. They get me pins, because they know I love pins.

I listen to my playlist of Magical Mirai albums as Dad drives us to the pride event. He does an illegal U-turn, and I tell him cops aren't allowed at pride, so we're okay. We park.

When we get there, the first thing we notice is all the food trucks. We ate before we came here, because they didn't think there'd be food. The first thing we do is Mom and Dad get alcoholic canned drinks, and they later buy me a cold vanilla latte at a different booth. We start walking around.

Mom's more interested in the concert being held by a queer artist who's name I didn't catch, and she jokes about us going to mosh there. I tell her it's dangerous and that I'm wearing my binder right now, and my dad comments that he didn't even notice.

While we're standing and waiting around, Dad perplexedly exclaims that there's a bar. I tell him as a joke that of course there's a bar, this is pride. He doesn't get it, so I explain the history of gay bars and the Mafia and all of that, and tell him the original pride parade was a protest where parking meters were uprooted and bricks were thrown at cops.

We start walking around to the several booths of queer creatives selling their art, and my eyes are battling between scouting for pins and looking at all the kinds of people here. It's truly all ages, from seniors to toddlers. I see as many visibly disabled and plus-size people as I do visibly abled and skinny people. When we first started walking in to the event, we saw a person in a cutesy lolita-styled outfit with cat ears and tail in the trans colours, in front of someone embracing their trans flag.

As I look around, I see various flags: bi, pan, lesbian, trans, nonbinary, genderfluid. On a couple people's shirts I see the ace flag. But as far as I'm aware, I'm the only person here in this entire crowd wearing the Aromantic flag. It's bittersweet, to be the sole representation of your people.

I see people in all styles of clothing as well: goth, punk, alternative, grunge, trendy, cute, casual, retro. I see some people standing out in absolutely fabulous outfits with sequins everywhere. I see a dog in a gay-coloured tutu, and a person with pride-coloured butterfly wings on their arms. Half the people here have dyed hair of some kind.

We sit down and take a break. It's near the mini waterpark nearby, which makes it fresh and cool-feeling and perfect for a break. A child with endless joys in their heart ends up spraying us with water, and we get a move on. I go around to multiple booths and buy an assortment of pins, one that says "I'M SO GAY I CAN'T EVEN THINK STRAIGHT" and one with a fuzzy Aro-coloured animal on it.

When we sit for a final break, I find two dirty books on the ground as Mom hands me a progress flag pin she found. I pick up the books. One is a 'queer history tour' of Edmonton brochure that has multiple locations of down-town and their associated queer histories. The other book is a mental wellness book targeted mainly at Indigenous folk, but I decide to take it any way since a lot of it advice applies to everyone. I show my Mom the page on ableist language, that talks about replacing words like 'crazy,' 'insane,' and 'psycho' with words like 'wild,' 'bananas,' and 'ridiculous.'

When we start walking back to the car, we see a group of four dressed ridiculously. One of them has massive, bouncing balloon tits, and they stand out the most. I'm afraid of what my parent's reaction will be, and this is what I told them to be nice about before we came, because pride was and still is a protest. They laugh and move on. I'm a little surprised that they're so cool with it.

We stop by the truck at the very start of the walk as Mom comments on it. It's a kink gear store. I stare in awe at the bear pride flag and leather puppy pride flag, telling my family about them. I have to ask one of them to confirm it's the leather puppy flag because I'm not wholly sure, and the people running the truck smile as they teach me about it.

We drive home, and as we walk back to the house, I think about Mom and Dad's reaction to the person with the balloon tits. I think about how they laughed kindly at one of the biggest displays of societal norm defiance I've ever seen. And then I think about the openly disabled people I saw with their pretty canes and wheelchairs, I think about the punks with fishnets and leather jackets and high boots, I think about the emo kandi kids with their black-and-rainbow stockings and vibrant kandi cuffs, I think about the booth run by African black people that stood for trans black liberation, I think about the truck run by kinksters decorated with historical flags, I think about the two feminine-presenting people I saw kissing and the transmasculine gay couple I saw holding hands.

I think about all of us, the societal outcasts that we are, proudly displaying what outcasted us in the first place, without a single person yelling that we're faggots, or trannies, or cripples, or fatasses, or freaks.

And for the first time in a long time, in all my childhood where I was ostracized from the girls for being too tomboyish from the boys for being born a girl, so badly until I started ostracizing myself, I know that I'm safe and welcome, somewhere in the world.