#and i still know that mexico is not just desert or whatever that one post said

[usercelestial]

i love these geography quizzes cause as someone who just straight up did not have a geography class in school, it's very fun to test my knowledge of things i had to teach myself when i was 14.

[kygerbearr]

Can you educate me on license plates? Sexless style?

Sorry for putting this off for so long, I got reaaallly busy but I'll go ahead and break down most what I know about license plates.

First and foremost we need to establish a few types of license plates, that being US, European, and then pretty much everything else. I group US and Europe into their own groups because those two all follow the same format, albeit with some variations. In addition to this, some countries and US states have front plates in addition to back plates, which will be relevant in the future.

Since I have a lot of European followers I'm sure you guys already know that European license plate standards are white with a blue strip and then 2 initials to represent the country in question. There is some variance on this however.

Here is a Denmark license plate showing the format. (ignore the red border, thats part of the image, not the plate)

Great Britain is an exception to this, as it has a yellow backplate and white frontplate.

Similarly to this, Netherlands has a yellow backplate, but it also has a yellow front plate as well.

This is the only country to have yellow on both front and back plates to my knowledge, so it is a telltale sign that the car is from Netherlands or that you're currently there. I have seen yellow license plates in Belgium before but I don't know if that's the standard there.

On to the next thing, we have (old) portugal backplates that have a yellow strip in addition to their blue strip.

This is the old design but is still present on many vehicles in the country.

France has something similar, but it is two blue strips on them like so:

Italy also has this as well as on front plates

Mexico is most distinct for their shorter, stubbier front plates compared to most others. It might be hard to tell, but here's a comparison of Mexico license plates with United States license plates

Interestingly enough, there's a lot of similarities between three different South American license plates in that they all have the blue strip at the top. I don't know why this is the case because I'm not very learned on its history. It makes sense for EU license plates to be the same, but I'm not sure why these are the same or why Chile, Peru, Bolivia don't follow the same format.

In addition to this, it's worth noting that Colombia's license plates are yellow as well, and I believe the only country in South America to have yellow? but I could be entirely wrong, my knowledge is limited to whatever has google streetview coverage.

For a change of pace, in Bhutan they have very distinct red license plates like this one

Fun fact about bhutan: there is a lot of phallic imagery present on many houses

And as a side note, Israel has yellow plates as well

Laos has yellow plates too, not many countries in Southeast Asia have yellow license plates to my knowledge besides Japan (though only some of them are yellow)

I could go over areas like Russia and Ukraine but they are just white license plates and aren't that remarkable. Before I hit the image limit I want to cover US license plates as they're quite distinct, starting with the only yellow plates, Alaska and New Mexico.

Bear in mind that plate designs have changed countless times and I could have an entirely separate post showcasing some of the most striking changes I've seen. For comparison, here are more from New Mexico

Alaska has a variant with a kodiak bear on it

New York is more orangeish

This state loves to move in circles and features Arches National Park

Wyoming is the most stereotypical yeehaw cowboy plate

Kentucky has nothing.

Arizona features everything that made me fall in love with the state. The mountains, the desert, the cacti, the sunrise, it's perfect.

Bonus round: Canada. NT has a polar bear

Nunavut has a polar bear

I'm out of images but there's plenty of other variants you can see on Geohints, two separate sections for most of the world as well as a separate section for just US plates

I feel like there's more I could cover but with the image limit it's a little difficult, but some other details I can say is that Manitoba for some reason has Hebrew on their license plates, Czechia license plates' first 3 digits represent the region they were manufactured in, a lot of countries like Peru and Bolivia have their flag on the license plate as well.

I hope you learned something about license plates

[ejzah]

For @anonkp, who encouraged me to turn my wish for an episode post “To Live and Die in Mexico” with Kensi caring for a recovering Deeks.

A/N: I know I’ve touched on this topic in other stories before, but i don’t think I’ve gone this in-depth. Also, emetophobia warning.

***

In Sickness and Health

Dragging Deeks through an unconscious Deeks through the Mexican desert with the federales and an arms dealer on their heals had been terrifying. There were a hundred different moments through those never ending days when Kensi thought they would die. That she would never hear Deeks’ voice or feel his touch again.

She’d been beyond grateful when Deeks woke up sooner than the doctors predicted and with seemingly few symptoms for the severity of his repeated traumatic brain injuries.

She hadn’t conceived of the possibility that it could get worse once he was back home. Because recovery from a subdural hematoma compounded by dehydration and broken ribs, came with a daunting list of symptoms that they spent every day trying to manage with limited success.

This morning had gone relatively well; Deeks had slept through the night with only a few episodes of pain or nightmares (Kensi wasn’t always sure of which) breaking through his medication to wake him.

“Hey, it’s about time for your afternoon meds, what do you want for lunch?” she asked, stopping in the den where Deeks was partially reclined in an easy chair, eyes loosely shut and one arm slung across his chest. The chair was angled at forty-five degrees since being completely upright tended to make him dizzy, but completely flat exacerbated his nausea. An audio book played quietly in the background.

“Eh whatever. You know it’s not gonna matter either way,” Deeks replied, his voice so low and gravely, Kensi knew he was battling another headache. “I’m just gonna throw it up in a couple hours anyway.” He cracked an eye open, a hint of blue showing through.

His skin was still a little patchy from being sunburn and he had a plethora of cuts in various stages of healing. Otherwise, on the outside, he looked better. It was inside that he battled against everyday.

“I know it’s rough, sweetie, but you can’t not eat at all.”

Deeks grimaced, clearly remembering the time he had avoided eating for most of the day and ended up dry-heaving for three hours.

“Mm, damned if do, damned if I don’t,” he sighed despondently. “Ok, just make it as bland as possible.” He shut his eyes again, a small groove forming between his eyebrows.

Kensi leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, fervently wishing that the simple gesture could take away his pain, then headed for the kitchen.

Kensi gathered a selection of fairly innocuous foods: plain crackers, toast, yogurt, a protein shake, and chicken broth. Between his reduced appetite and cyclical vomiting, he’d been distinctly picky and uninterested in food, so she tried to provide a variety with the hope he’d get a reasonable amount of calories in the end.

Then she grabbed the row of orange canisters lined up on the wall beside the sink with explicit timing and administration instructions. After two weeks, Kensi could dispense them without too much thought, but she still checked the labels to be sure. The last thing she wanted to do was set Deeks back with an overdose.

When she had the 8 different pills counted out, a glass of water and Gatorade, and the food set up, she carried the full tray back to the den. Deeks had shifted onto his side in the time she’d been gone, and she noticed the audio book wasn’t playing anymore.

��Lunch is served,” she announced quietly.

Deeks picked at the toast, ripping a few pieces off and chewing them with obvious effort, in between downing the pills with sips of Gatorade, and managed a couple ounces of the protein drink before he pushed the tray back with a quick shake of his head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. His skin was already paler than a few minutes before and he inhaled shallowly through his nose, exhaling slowly, eyes and jaw clamping shut again.

He stayed that way, barely moving, for a few minutes, and Kensi almost thought he would be alright. Then his face grayed completely, beads of sweat popping out on his forehead. He shoved himself out of the chair with a desperate sound, stumbling into the doorway on his way through.

“Crap,” Kensi muttered, hurrying after him. She made in time to see him on his knees, arm braced against his torso as he retched. Kneeling behind him, she rubbed his lower back, providing support when his strength began to wane.

After several minutes, he moved back, slumping sideways into the closest wall with a pained groan.

Kensi wet a washcloth with cold water and gently wiped the sticky sweat from his skin. He shivered in response, goosebumps appearing wherever she ran the cloth, but he didn’t complain.

When she was done, Deeks let her pull his upper body against her chest. She’d figured out that once the initial wave of vomiting was over, talking helped, so she kept up a low hum of chatter.

“Sam said Callen’s doing a lot better. He’s driving the nurses crazy,” she said.

Deeks tilted his head, just a small movement against her, making a sound of confusion. “Nurses? I thought he was home.”

Kensi didn’t speak for a moment, thrown off as she always was when he experienced a memory lapse.

“Um…no, he’s still in the hospital. Probably for a couple more weeks at least while his lung heals and he gets his stamina back up.”

“Oh.” He shivered again, and Kensi pressed her hand against his cheek, finding it slightly cool.

“Hey, you think you’re going to be sick again?”

He shook his head a single time.

Kensi helped him up to rinse his mouth, supporting most of his weight as exhaustion and disequilibrium set in again. Them made their way into the bedroom, and Kensi got Deeks settled in bed before going around to close all the curtains.

She moved around quietly, getting a fresh glass of water, anti nausea meds, a sleep mask in case he needed it. Afterwards, she slid into bed next to Deeks, tucking herself into his side.

“You know, you don’t have to stay in here with me,” Deeks murmured, voice rough with barely any volume to it. It wasn’t the first time he’d said so in moments like this, but Kensi didn’t think this was a case of his ongoing memory deficits so much as a reminder. He got morose and defeated some days, believing he was a burden.

“Where else would I be?” Kensi asked simply.

“Yeah, cause we all know sitting in a dark, quiet room is so exciting. Can’t even watch TV.”

“I don’t mind.” It was the truth. She wished Deeks could distract himself with binging the latest Netflix offering. That the sound and screen time wouldn’t make his headaches, vision, and vertigo worse. For herself though? She’d happily lay in bed in the dark all day and night with Deeks.

She combed her fingers through his hair, listening to Deeks’ breath even out slowly. “I thought I lost you so many times Deeks. It’s going to be a long time before I get tired of hearing you breathe, feeling your hand under mine, seeing you laugh at me.” She swallowed down the tight feeling in her throat because she didn’t need to add her tears into the mix. “I love you and you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Deeks huffed a soft sound that might have been a laugh, tilting his head to rest against hers. “Like I’d ever want that. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Kensi’s eyes did fill with tears at that, and she hugged him closer. Deeks made another soft sound, body going limp with the tell-tale sign of oncoming sleep.

“I love you, Marty Deeks,” she repeated, cupping his cheek. “In sickness and in health.”

***

A/N: Hope this is suitably whumpy and hurt/comfort filled.

[rynnthefangirl]

My Post-BCS Kim Wexler Headcanons

-Kim isn't penniless, she made an okay wage at the sprinkler company and has a good bit of money saved up from her days working for HHM, Mesa Verde, and S&C. She actually shoved her lawyer money into a separate account and refused to use it during the Florida years out of guilt, getting by only on her Sprinkler salary.

-Cheryl does end up suing Kim, but it's settled pretty quickly. Kim gives Cheryl her savings from her lawyer days, which is used to help set up a legal aid grant in Howard's name. Howard gets a positive and long lasting legacy, and Kim gets to know that her money went towards her dream of providing free quality legal help to people in need. Win-win for everyone, and Kim isn’t forced into poverty.

-The part of Kim that still thinks she needs to punish herself feels bad about this, as that is what she would have wanted to do with the money even without the lawsuit and it feels more for her than for Howard. But Cheryl seems satisfied, and ultimately Kim knows that helping people is more important than whatever guilt she still struggles with. Kim also remembers how Howard told her that he wanted to make a difference in the world before being pressured into joining HHM by his dad, so it feels like something he would have wanted and liked.

-Her affadavit being public knowledge makes it pretty much impossible for her to become a licensed attorney again, and she never tries. However, she does become heavily involved in the legal world, eventually moving from volunteer work to a full time paid position as a paralegal doing lots of pro bono legal aid work. Despite not being an attorney, she finds her work very personally fulfilling.

-She forms some good and meaningful friendships through her work. She can be herself around others again, a far cry from what we see of her interactions with others in Waterworks.

-She dumps Glenn pretty much immediately after the events of Saul Gone. She dates here and there, with a couple more serious relationships, but doesn't remarry (nobody ever really lives up to Jimmy).

-Kim visits Jimmy several times a year, and they otherwise keep in close contact through letters/phone calls. They are still each other's #1 person, and both of them relish the time they get to spend together, despite Jimmy being in prison. They can't be together like they used to be, but the love is still there and that's what matters most.

-Kim eventually starts going to therapy to help her deal with her guilt over Howard's death. Like Jimmy with Chuck, she'll always carry that cross, but she gets better at not letting it consume her.

-Occasionally, when planning out a trip to go see Jimmy, Kim will book her return flight home from Albuquerque. The drive down there from ADX Montrose is 6 hours, but it's an enjoyable one that passes through the Colorado mountains and then the familiar New Mexico desert. She'll visit places that hold memories of the past, usually memories she shared with Jimmy. She tries to avoid running into former acquaintances, and never ever returns to their old apartment. The last thing she does before her flight home is pay a visit to Howard's grave.

-This trip eventually starts to feel very important to Kim, and she keeps it up over the years. Taking that time to physically return to her past makes it easier to put it behind her and focus on her future instead.

-Kim gets a cat. No deeper meaning, I just think Kim with a cat would be adorable and she should do it. She names him Atticus.

[kanguin]

I think this post lacks significant context that:

A) just being able to Google information at any time is a pretty recent thing, and even then many people have pretty sheltered home lives. If you grew up pre-internet, pre-smartphones, or in a high control environment (which is unfortunately common in the US), your access to this information wasn't easy and required proactive action and curiosity to do the footwork to learn new things. That also runs into the hurdle that you don't know what you don't know, so outside of examples like "world's tallest building" that are very specific trivia, people in general don't tend to look up basic information that they don't know exists.

B) I've seen mention of lack of information here, but not of MISINFORMATION. You will not believe some of the things I have heard peers and former students say they were taught in school and by family that are so dishonest about the outside world. There is a large section of the US that does legitimately believe that nonwhite nations are lesser, and thus less developed, and will do anything in their power to ensure other people are taught their world view. It used to be worse, sometimes certain subjects just were not mandatory.

As a personal example, my own mother is highly educated and works in medicine, but is largely still learning when it comes to world history, because when and where she was in school it was literally neither required nor prioritized for students to learn anything but American history. I'm very fortunate she's curious and eager to learn new things (just very narrow focused on science), but the things she doesn't know and thus has never thought to look up astound me sometimes.

Like one poster above me said, the United States of America is a huge place, and our education is not standardized. School funding is determined not by federal law, but by local tax revenue, which is frankly bass-ackwards. This means low income areas receive poor funding and thus poor education, and the accuracy of school curriculum is mandated by local school boards largely staffed by conservative and opinionated retirees in much of the country. Hell, mind the tangent, but a lot of news organizations and magazines barely report on international matters outside the immediate allies of tte USA. We are literally overrun by systems and powers that want nothing more to control the information people receive about the outside world and would be delighted that some 21 year old believed Mexico was nothing more than small desert towns, because ignorance is easy to control and radicalize.

So yeah, blame the individuals, the 21yo kid who was so misled about the outside world is funny, not remotely terrifying or sad. Whatever.

Just remember:

You are not immune to propaganda.

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

Random ideas and thoughts about my TFA Megop sparkling and the post-war Cybertron peace AU she lives in that I thought up during work. Putting it all under a read more since it’s a long post. 

While Cybertron has declared peace and most everyone abides by, there are still pockets of dissent and groups that act out against this. This includes groups that align with Decepticons and groups that align with Autobots.

Cybertron also has a good relationship with Earth and considers it a fellow galactic power despite only having rule over one planet and a moon.

Cybertronians can live on Earth and operate out of Cybertronian bases or work for Earth companies. However humans can't live on Cybertron for extended periods. While the official reason given is that Cybertron's climate is too hostile for humans, most believe it's the continued organic xenophobia (organiphobia?). 

Detroit remains the go-to spot for Cybertronians visiting or working on Earth. Other major cities in the US, Canada, Mexico, and Japan have begun to welcome Cybertronians as well, albeit to a lesser extent.

Sari alternates between being on Earth and Cybertron as she serves as one of the official Galactic Representatives for Earth. Her specialty is relations with Cybertron.

She is also Halcyon's godmother! (But not in a religious way, if that makes sense.) She got Halcyon to call her "Aunt Sari."

Post-war economic boom means a change in culture as well. Economic prosperity allows for new fashion ideas to emerge. The most popular one being transforming safe jewelry that looks good in both root and alt mode. There is also temporary paint like makeup which is utilized by all younger people regardless of occupation.

There's also a shift in food culture as energon goes from just being fuel that needs to be conserved to being something to enjoy. Semi-solid food items begin to be created and become popular. There is a form of energon based boba tea (because I love a good black milk tea with boba).

There are memes. While influenced by Earth some, Cybertron has it's own meme culture and social media platforms. Halcyon has an account on all of them and she will show her creators memes she finds funny. They have no clue what they mean and they do that old person thing where they hold the phone way out and squint at it.

Halcyon likes Earth but prefers beaches and desert regions over Detroit's temperate climate and lake.

Every time she goes to Earth she takes a rock with her as a souvenir. She has been told to stop multiple times but always manages to get one past security and her creators. After a while, the park service just points at rocks that she can take without any severe impaact to the environment because they know they can't stop her. Her creators are just grateful she's not bringing back actual organic matter that could rot.

She's very proud of her rock collection and shows it off every chance she gets. Family friend dropping by for a quick chat? Show off the rocks. Important business meeting? Show off the rocks! Tense negotiation between politicians? Show off the rocks!!

She also wants a pet turbofox! But there is one issue: turbofoxes are not domesticated and have never been domesticated. She is convinced she can be the first to domesticate one.

She cried when she found out she was getting a brother. Not because she doesn't want a brother, she loves him. But because she thought the big news her creators were going to tell her was that they were finally domesticating a turbofox for her.

Contrary to her name, Halcyon is actually an extremely chaotic and energetic kid and teen. She calms down a bit when she hits young adulthood but still tends to act without thinking everything through and says whatever comes to mind.

Full grown Halcyon is about as tall as Megatron, only a little shorter but she's slimmer like Optimus. Her base paint (that is the colors that naturally occur and not an added paint job) are dark gray, blue, and silver. She likes to get purple and red added as accents. She is a flight frame. 

She has heterochromia. Her left optic is blue and her right optic is red. Heterochromia can occur in Cybertronians but neither Megatron or Optimus knew they carried the code for it. It doesn’t impact her vision at all.

Her younger brother, Prosperitas, also has heterochromia but his optics are flipped (the left is red and the right is blue). They joke that they could swap one optic each and have the same color optics but argue over who gets which color.

Prosperitas’s base colors are dark gray, red, and blue. He is a ground frame. 

Prosperitas was born around the time that she was the equivalent of being about eleven to twelve years old. When she gets older she does occasionally have to babysit him and bring him with her. She’s worried others will think it’s lame that she has to bring her little brother along. Prosperitas is excited to get to hang out with older kids.

Halcyon does eventually find a turbofox and begins domesticating it, bringing it energon and getting it used to being pet and training it to perform simple commands. She names it Swiftfox. She doesn’t tell her creators since she knows they’d worry about her safety despite the turbofox being very docile. Prosperitas learns about it but promises not to say anything as long as she lets him pet Swiftfox. 

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

The Last of Us: Part III

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader / Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader  (This is a flashback chapter, Reader is not present.)

Warnings: Language. Nothing else, really, other than Tom being the worst (generally) and no one trusting him (because they shouldn’t, but we’ll touch on that more in future chapters). 

Word Count: 767

Author’s Note: More Triple Frontier zombie apocalypse AU that no one asked for. This was inspired by this week’s Writer Wednesday challenge from @autumnleaves1991-blog​. Consider this a mini update. I will have a full length update coming along in a few hours (I think? Possibly tomorrow afternoon.)

Summary: When Frankie’s truck breaks down in the middle of nowhere, Frankie and Pope spend the night on guard duty and wonder if everyone in their group can really be trusted. Set five months prior to Part I. 

Part II - Taglist Form - Masterlist - Part IV

Five Months Earlier…

It was a hell of a time for his old truck to break down. 

They were somewhere in New Mexico, just about to cross the state line into Texas. It was bound to happen sooner or later. The five of them had been on a road trip of sorts for the past month, driving aimlessly, picking off infected when they needed to. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to be anymore.

Tom had been the one to make the final call about the Quarantine Zones. They’d spent enough time in the military to know that when the government was put in charge of anything, they tended to fuck it up. The Federal Disaster Response Agency was bad news. 

So they all piled into Frankie’s pickup instead, each of them equipped with whatever tactical gear they’d managed to throw into their backpacks and a few boxes of camping supplies, and headed out. 

But now, the sight of smoke pouring from the engine forced them to pull over to the side of the road. The sun was blazing down on them, and Pope and Benny took the first shift of guarding the truck while Frankie worked to patch up an engine that was already barely held together by duct tape and hope. It was overheating, the effects of constant driving and the desert-like climate taking its toll. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t do this to me…” Frankie murmured, swiping away the sweat that dripped down his temple. They didn’t have much left in the way of water, and almost pained him to pour the bottle over the radiator.

“What’s the verdict, Fish?” Will asked, coming to stand beside him. Frankie gave him a solemn look that told him all he needed to know. 

“We’re stuck here until she cools down,” Frankie replied quietly. “Maybe tonight, after the sun goes down…” 

“But...?”

“I don’t know what damage it did to the engine when it overheated. Even if I did, I don’t have the parts to fix it. The old girl’s on her way out.” The pickup had been with him since the day he’d turned sixteen, passed down to him from his father. He’d repaired this thing more times than he could count, and he dreaded to think he’d probably be abandoning her soon. 

“My condolences,” Will replied, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe she’ll make it to Texas. We’ll be able to find a salvage yard there.” 

Frankie nodded, raising his eyebrows, “Hope so.” 

It was a relief when the sun finally slipped below the horizon, cooling the air around them to a temperature that was almost comfortable by comparison. Dinner consisted of a round of MRE’s from the stockpile Will had kept in his basement for years. Frankie never thought he’d be grateful to see those again after he came home from deployment, but he knew that most people had it much worse these days. 

Frankie volunteered for guard duty that night. As the designated driver of the group, he usually got out of it, but tonight he couldn’t seem to quiet his mind. 

They’d been in bad situations before, and they’d always made it through just fine. Frankie knew that, but… Frankie was the pilot. He was the one who took control, who got his guys out of whatever situation they’d gotten themselves into. He could fly over hostile territories all day long, but strand him in the desert? That’s when Frankie got nervous.

“You doin’ okay, Fish?” Pope asked, plopping himself down beside him in the dirt. 

“Just peachy,” Frankie deadpanned. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” 

“Nah,” He shook his head, grinning slightly. “You need somebody watching your back.” 

“That’s what Tom is for, right?” Frankie mumbled, nodding towards the man who’d taken up post on the opposite side of the camp. 

Pope gave a soft snort, bumping his shoulder. “You know better than that, Fishie. Shit’s about to get tough out here. Redfly is gonna be looking out for number one.” 

Frankie nodded his agreement. Tom may have been the de facto leader of their group, but he was no team player. 

“What’s that phrase? You don’t have to be faster than the bear–” 

“Just faster than the guy next to you. Yeah. That sounds like Tom,” Pope finished. “That’s okay, though. At least we know who not to trust.” 

“Right,” Frankie sighed, still watching the horizon carefully. 

“And if worst comes to worst, you know I’ll always have your back, right? No man left behind.”

“Not even Redfly?” Frankie asked, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked grin. 

“Yeah, no. Fuck that guy.”

General Taglist: @theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @maythxthirstbxwithyou @artsymaddie @heythere-mel

Pedro Characters Taglist: @pascalisthepunkest @coldlilheart @fuck-goes-on @spideysimpossiblegirl 

The Last of Us (Triple Frontier AU) Taglist: @kesskirata @a-bang-for-your-bucky @brianamaree 

Frankie Morales (Triple Frontier) Taglist: @freeshavocadoooo @fangirl-of-randomness​ @darnitdraco​

Santiago “Pope” Garcia (Triple Frontier) Taglist: @rosequartzwriting​

[swan2swan]

my guess: the Campers make it to mainland for a season, and they reconnect to the rest of the world. then as time passes it comes out that the island is exploding and they all sneak off to return to the island and rescue Bumpy

Not gonna work.

As character-driven as the show is, you still need the dinosaurs. It's the reason for the show. No one likes the seasons of zombie shows where you're suddenly not fighting zombies at all. You need your dinosaurs.

As for getting back to the island from the mainland, there's no way the kids are ALL going to be able to sneak away from their families, grab a boat, charter it, get to Nublar through whatever quarantine and/or blockades exist, and hope to get in and grab a fully-grown Ankylosaurus. That's not going to happen.

Get them all to a location in the United States or Mexico? Maybe a ranch in Texas? Sure. Especially if half of them live in California and the others are rich and/or well-traveled. It'll be tricky, but you can do that. It would be a very 80s-style move, and we all know that Jurassic creators love 80s-style stuff.

The easiest plot is just to have them get stuck on Sorna with Mantah Corp. That allows for a playing field with dinosaurs and a lack of rescue, it sets up plot points that may explode into Dominion (note: Dominion should not go back to Sorna for its main body, and I don't think it will, we're off the island, keep it that way), it explains who got the signal and why they didn't send rescue (can't jeopardize revealing your secret base), and it keeps the fandom thirsty and reinvigorates their interest. Also, you can draw in a lot of people who haven't been thrilled with JW thusfar.

Being on another island also allows you to keep your assets limited: you can use the jungle scenery and the water to their full extent.

If there's a timeskip, it's going to require new assets for every character and environment--it would be bold, but it worked better for a show like Korra, which was already using drawings and fresh backgrounds and environments for everything. While building a whole new desert/badlands/forest set is doable (as we've seen from Rebels and Clone Wars and Fast and Furious and Elena and every CGI show out there), it's a demanding leap that probably wasn't in the scope of hope for the creators.

Obviously, your proposal of going back to Nublar would save them their environmental concerns--but the story options are too much of a stretch. One of the big things in this show is that they are just kids, and that comes with a lot of costs when you choose to tell a story from that perspective. Tangled and Elena based their plotlines around young adults, enabling them to go wherever they wanted at any time; Spy Racers has them join up with a spy agency for Junior Adventures; Rebels, they're all criminals anyway. Heck, even RWBY has the protagonists constrained by rules for the first three volumes, and then they all have to go rogue to break out in the next one--and that's a post-apocalyptic fantasy world!

As much as I wanted them to face the volcano in the show, if they do that, they're going to have to make it a pitstop on the way back from Sorna. Which is more than doable (but they also have to be on Sorna for six months, or get stuck on Nublar again on the way back...both wholly doable depending on fuel and plot).

TLDR: Once the kids hit the mainland, they cannot get back to Nublar. It's like entering the final room in your open-world game: there's no going back from that.

[nat-20s]

i woke up at 4:30 in the morning with this messy meta about the comparative horror styles of welcome to nightvale vs the magnus archives and how i like them both very much this is not a one is better than the other post because they’re DIFFERENT but also why, personally, nightvale has freaked me out more than TMA  (the magnus archives- im gonna use the abbreviation from now on and in scientific papers u gotta ESTABLISH the acronym and it’s actually kind of annoying bc they’ll establish it ONCE in the abstract and then never say what XJFEFJDOSM or whatever stands for again so if ur like wait WHAT was that again u gotta scroll all the way back up and it’s a whole thing but I digress)   and it has to do with WORLDBUILDING and FRAMING DEVICES and USE OF SECOND PERSON and only a little bit how if a character unironically says “innit” i automatically can’t take them seriously. Anyway it’s stuck in my head so you know I had to make it your problem. Also I’m putting this under a read more bc fjsdjlks holy shit this is gonna get LONG and RAMBLY and D E E P L Y nerdy 

WORLDBUILDING, FRAMING DEVICES, AND (THE USE OF) YOU IN MANGUS AND NIGHTVALE

Part A: whose universe is it anyway? Welcome to horror where the lore is made up and the logic doesnt matter

so I am not the first or last to compare (/maybe wanna crossover a little) the worlds of

wtnv (welcome to nightvale) and TMA and like for good reason bc in many ways they feel very similar but in TMA it’s like What the FUCK is going on with all of these horrors and nightmarish scenarios I am FREAKED out where as WTNV treats it’s horrors as typically mundane which

A: plays into why when WTNV is like “remember how we’re a horror :)” it’s like OH SHIT bc if Jon Archivist is scared you’re like well yeah it’s scary out there but if CECIL PALMER, general attitude of a peppy cheerleader when facing terrors beyond imagination, is scared, you KNOW shit is FUCKED

B: isn’t entirely accurate, because I don’t actually feel like they are set in the same world. here’s where things get sticky when it comes to realities and whatnot but I do wanna stress that yes I know WTNV and TMA are both works of fictions BUT I would personally say that

TMA is set in a parallel universe:  a reality that’s similar to our own but also distinctly separate from anything that we, the audience, can witness but never participate in

WTNV is set in a hidden universe: it is set in our (the listeners) own reality, and is done in such a way that it feels like if you looked hard enough for it or if you just had a bout of bad luck or if you happen to drive down a certain road in a long stretch of US desert (side note: if there’s any real life place nightvale would be set in it’s definitely new mexico have you ever been in new mexico it’s called land of ENCHANTMENT for a reason if I drove into new mexico and drove back out a few days later and like THIRTY YEARS had passed I’d be like yeah that tracks) that you could end up in the reality of nightvale. Who’s to say there’s not a faceless old woman secretly living in your house? Are you sure there’s nothing odd in your mirror? Who can ever be sure time is working correctly?

Which brings me to

Part B: You(yes, you!)’ve Been Framed!

Listen. I fucking love a good framing device. Every time a podcast is like “here’s why the events of the story are recorded in the world of the story” I go bonkers in yonkers that shit SLAPS. TMA and WTNV both do this, but (at least up to ep 176 of TMA, this whole fuckin essay could still be blown out the water) TMA’s framing device doesn’t account for an audience, where as WTNV’s the audience is a core component

the framing device of TMA is that these spooky stories are being recorded by an archivist in order to have an audio version of written statements. Cool! It tells the audience why these recordings exist, and why they’re episodic. Later in the story, the tapes begin to spontaneously show up because of Spooky Reasons that have yet to be Fully Revealed, but it still isn’t for an audience. When Jon Archivist records these tapes, they’re basically being recorded for a Void. Yes, the tapes are originally for a potential researcher to listen to, but that ain’t you chief. You are not part of the narrative (so far at least! Again, maybe the audience will be brought into the story when it’s revealed What’s Up with the spontaneous tapes, but so far nah), there’s no in universe explanation for why you personally are listening to these stories. You aren’t present in the story, in the framing device, so you are not a part of that world.

The framing device of WTNV is that you are tuning into the community radio of a small desert town, Nightvale, that you are a part of. After all, if you are tuning into something local, you’re strongly implied to be local. Thus, we have a framing device that explains both why it’s recorded AND why you’re listening. The audience is absolutely involved in the narrative rather than a simple spectator. Cecil Palmer is not recording into a Void, he’s talking to listeners of which you are a part of. (side note: this makes nightvale liveshows SUPER fun if u get an opportunity to go to one I HIGHLY recommend it bc while there’s not ‘audience participation’ in the classic sense of like magic or comedy acts the narrative IS constructed in a way that you feel less like a witness of a story and more of a participant like the one I went to most of us pulled our legs onto out chair bc oh SHIT maybe there IS an escaped librarian under your chair making a grab for your feet SUSPENSION OF DISBELIEF IS FUN AS HELL YALL)

These framing devices are enforced and enhanced upon by who the “you” in a narrative is.

In TMA, when there’s a “you” being referred to, when there’s a listener, it’s usually an in universe character. When there’s lines like “i’m sorry, that’s not what you came here to listen to” it’s not referring to you personally, it’s talking to Jon Archivist or Gertrude Archivist or Insert Archival Assistant. When TMA does use a more general “you”, it’s still in universe rather than the external listening to audience. You can include yourself as part of that general you, but it’s not inherently built into the narrative. If you want to distance yourself, you can also do that. You are not automatically in this world, even if much of it feels repeatable and/or similar

WTNV sometimes uses you to refer to an in universe character, because conversations do happen, but in the episodes where it’s like LMAO THIS IS A HORROR, the “you” and general second person is actively both discussing a known character and the listener personally. One of the most recent episodes, ep 171 “Go to the Mirror?” is a BRILLIANT example of this, where Cecil is simultaneously discussing himself and his experiences AND you as well. There’s something he can only see in the mirror, something with such sharp claws, on his shoulders, but it’s also something you personally can only see in the mirror, something on your shoulder.  You are not exempt from the story, you can’t be exempt from the story, because you’ve always been a part of it. (Also side note go to the mirror is SO fuckign good it made my heart fuckin POUND the amount of times that despite knowing it was fiction I looked over my shoulder so many times. I know a shit ton of people listened to WTNV in like 2012/13 and dropped off and felt guilty and never caught up again but like. Catch up on nightvale it’s good for body and soul and also Cecilos just keep winning)

WAY too long; didn’t read: to me personally while I LOVE both TMA and WTNV, WTNV is scarier to be because TMA feels like a story that you’re bearing witness to (also thank god british people aren’t real and were made up for the Peppa Pig Cinematic Universe), WTNV feels not just like a story that you could be in but actively already are and that makes things SPOOKY

Also this isn’t related to the essay but shout out to whoever first decided that horror narrators should have nice even voices we really all be soothed by some grisly ass stories the amount of people that fall asleep to WTNV/TMA is WILD

[tachyon-at-rest]

DOGS IN ELK

An insanely funny story of "domesticated" dogs reminding us that they are still kinda wild.

https://www.jerrypournelle.com/reports/jerryp/dogsinelk.html#dogs

From: Edward Hume <ehume@pshrink.com> Date: Sun, 21 Nov 1999 20:40:36 -0500 Subj: Dogs in elk ____________________________________________________________

I edited the follow-up thread

The original is here:

http://www.gardenweb.com/forums/load/party/msg101444109927.html?2

dogs in elk Posted by Anita z8 Seattle (anita@is2inc.com) on Fri, Oct 22, 99 at 14:44 The following apparently appeared recently on one of the newsgroups, rec.pets. It sounds pretty believable to me--though it's so funny, I'm not sure that I care. It's pretty long, but it's worth it. ---------------------

Anne V - 01:01pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1318 of 1332) Okay - I know how to take meat away from a dog. How do I take a dog away from meat? This is not, unfortunately, a joke.

AmyC - 01:02pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1319 of 1332) Um, can you give us a few more specifics here?

Anne V - 01:12pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1320 of 1332) They're inside of it. They crawled inside, and now I have a giant incredibly heavy piece of carcass in my yard, with 2 dogs inside of it, and they are NOT getting bored of it and coming out. One of them is snoring. I have company arriving in three hours, and my current plan is to 1. put up a tent over said carcass and 2. hang thousands of fly strips inside it. This has been going on since about 6:40 this morning.

AmyC - 01:19pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1321 of 1332) Oh. My. God. What sort of carcass is big enough to hold a couple of dogs inside? Given the situation, I'm afraid you're not going to be create enough of a diversion to get the dogs out of the carrion, unless they like greeting company as much as they like rolling around in dead stuff. Which seems unlikely. Can you turn a hose on the festivities?

Ase Innes-Ker - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1322 of 1332) I'm sorry Anne. I know this is a problem (and it would have driven me crazy), but it is also incredibly funny.

Anne V - 01:31pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1323 of 1332) Elk. Elk are very big this year, because of the rain and good grazing and so forth. They aren't rolling. They are alternately napping and eating. They each have a ribcage. Other dogs are working on them from the outside. It's all way too primal in my yard right now. We tried the hose trick. At someone elses house, which is where they climbed in and began to refuse to come out. Many hours ago. I think that the hose mostly helps keep them cool and dislodges little moist snacks for them. hose failed. My new hope is that if they all continue to eat at this rate, they will be finished before the houseguests arrive. The very urban houseguests. Oh, god - I know it's funny. It's appalling, and funny, and completely entirely representative of life with dogs.

Kristen R. - 01:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1324 of 1332) I'm so glad I read this thread, dogless as I am. Dogs in elk. Dogs in elk.

Anne V - 01:41pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1325 of 1332) It's like that childrens book out there - dogs in elk, dogs on elk, dogs around elk, dogs outside elk. And there is some elk inside of, as well as on, each dog at this point.

Elizabeth K - 01:57pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1328 of 1333) Anne, aren't you in Arizona or Nevada? There are elk there? I'm so confused! We definately need to see pics of Gus Pong and Jake in the elk carcass.

Anne V - 02:03pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1329 of 1333) I am in New Mexico, but there are elk in both arizona and nevada, yes. There are elk all over the da*n place. They don't look out very often. If you stand the ribcage on end they scramble to the top and look out, all red. Otherwise, you kinda have to get in there a little bit yourself to really see them. So I think there will not be pictures.

CoseyMo - 02:06pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1330 of 1333) "all red;" I'm not sure the deeper horror of all this was fully borne in upon me till I saw that little phrase.

Anne V - 02:10pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1331 of 1333) Well, you know, the Basenji (that would be Jake) is a desert dog, naturally, and infamous for it's aversion to water. And then, Gus Pong (who is coming to us, live, unamplified and with a terrific reverb which is making me a little dizzy) really doesn't mind water, but hates to be cold. Or soapy. And both of them can really run. Sprints of up to 35 mph have been clocked. So. If ever they come out, catching them and returning them to a condition where they can be considered house pets is not going to be, shall we say, pleasant.

CoseyMo - 02:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1332 of 1333) What if you stand the ribcage on end, wait for them to look out, grab them when they do and pull?

Anne V - 02:18pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1333 of 1333) They wedge their toes between the ribs. And scream. We tried that before we brought the elk home from the mountain with dogs inside. Jake nearly took my friends arm off. He's already short a toe, so he cherishes the 15 that remain.

Linda Hewitt - 02:30pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1336 of 1356) Have you thought about calling your friendly vet and paying him to come pick up the dogs, elk and letting the dogs stay at the vets overnight. If anyone would know what to do, it would be your vet. It might cost some money, but it would solve the immediate crisis. Keep us posted.

ChristiPeters - 02:37pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1337 of 1356) Yikes! My sympathy! When I lived in New Mexico, my best friend's dog (the escape artist) was continually bringing home road kill. When there was no road kill convenient, he would visit the neighbor's house. Said neighbor slaughtered his own beef. The dog found all kinds of impossibly gross toys in the neighbor's trash pit. I have always had medium to large dogs. The smallest dog I ever had was a mutt from the SPCA who matured out at just above knee high and about 55 pounds. Our current dog (daughter's choice) is a Pomeranian. A very small Pomeranian. She's 8 months old now and not quite 4 pounds. I'm afraid I'll break her.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:38pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1338 of 1356) Bet you could fit a whole lot of Pomeranians in that there elk carcass! Anne - my condolences on what must be an unbelievable situation!

Anne V - 02:44pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1339 of 1356) I did call my vet. He laughed until he was gagging and breathless. He says a lot of things, which can be summed as *what did you expect?* and *no, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog.* He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home. Thanks, Lori. I am almost surrendered to the absurdity of it.

Lori Shiraishi - 02:49pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1340 of 1356) "He is planning to stop over and take a look on his way home." So he can fall down laughing in person?

Anne V - 02:50pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1341 of 1356) Basically, yeah. That would be about it.

AmyC - 02:56pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1342 of 1356) No, there is no such thing as too much elk meat for a dog." Oh, sweet lo*d, Anne. You have my deepest sympathies in this, perhaps the most peculiar of the Gus Pong Adventures. You are truly a woman of superhuman patience. wait -- you carried the carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside?

Anne V - 02:59pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1343 of 1356) The carcass down from the mountains with the dogs inside? no, well, sort of. My part in the whole thing was to get really stressed about a meeting that I had to go to, and say *yeah, ok, whatever* when it was suggested that the ribcages, since we couldn't get the dogs out of them and the dogs couldn't be left there, be brought to my house. Because, you know - I just thought they would get bored of it sooner or later. But it appears to be later, in the misty uncertain future, that they will get bored. Now, they are still interested. And very loud, one singing, one snoring.

Lori Shiraishi - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1344 of 1356) And very loud, one singing, one snoring. wow. I can't even begin to imagine the acoustics involved with singing from the inside of an elk.

Anne V - 03:04pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1345 of 1356) reverb. lots and lots of reverb.

Anne V - 03:15pm Sep 9, 1999 PDT (# 1347 of 1356) I'll tell you the thing that is causing me to lose it again and again, and then I have to go back outside and stay there for a while. After the meeting, I said to my (extraordinary) boss, "look, I've gotta go home for the rest of the day, I think. Jake and Gus Pong are inside some elk ribcages, and my dad is coming tonight, so I've got to get them out somehow." And he said, pale and huge-eyed, "Annie, how did you explain the elk to the clients?" The poor, poor man thought I had the carcasses brought to work with me. For some reason, I find this deeply funny. (weekend pause)

Anne V - 08:37am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1395 of 1405) So what we did was put the ribcages (containing dogs) on tarps and drag them around to the side yard, where I figured they would at least be harder to see, and then opened my bedroom window so that the dogs could let me know when they were ready to be plunged into a de-elking solution and let in the house. Then I went to the airport. Came home, no visible elk, no visible dogs. Peeked around the shrubs, and there they were, still in the elk. By this time, they had gnawed out some little portholes between some of the ribs, and you got the occasional very frightening glimpse of something moving around in there if you watched long enough. After a lot of agonizing, I went to bed. I closed the back door, made sure my window was open, talked to the dogs out of it until I as sure they knew it was open, and then I fell asleep. Sometimes, sleep is a mistake, no matter how tired you are. And especially if you are very very tired, and some of your dogs are outside, inside some elks. Because when you are that tired, you sleep through bumping kind of noises, or you kind of think that it's just the house guests. It wasn't the house guests. It was my dogs, having an attack of teamwork unprecedented in our domestic history. When I finally woke all the way up, it was to a horrible vision. Somehow, 3 dogs with a combined weight of about 90 pounds, managed to hoist one of the ribcages (the meatier one, of course) up 3 feet to rest on top of the swamp cooler outside the window, and push out the screen. What woke me was Gus Pong, howling in frustration from inside the ribcage, very close to my head, combined with feverish little grunts from Jake, who was standing on the nightstand, bracing himself against the curtains with remarkably bloody little feet. Here are some things I have learned, this Rosh Hashanah weekend: 1. almond milk removes elk blood from curtains and pillowcases, 2. We can all exercise superhuman strength when it comes to getting elk carcasses out of our yard, 3. The sight of elk ribcages hurtling over the fence really frightens the nice deputy sheriff who lives across the street, and 4. the dogs can pop the screens out of the windows, without damaging them, from either side.

Anne V - 09:58am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1401 of 1405) What I am is really grateful that they didn't actually get the damn thing in the window, which is clearly the direction they were going in. And that the nice deputy didn't arrest me for terrifying her with elk parts before dawn.

AmyC - 09:59am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1402 of 1405) Imagine waking up with a gnawed elk carcass in your bed, like a real-life "Godfather" with an all-dog cast.

Anne V - 10:01am Sep 13, 1999 PDT (# 1403 of 1405) There is not enough almond milk in the world to solve an event of that kind.

[acefrogmonarch]

HC pt. 2

Some of these might have been on the other HC but if it is, don't worry there's is a lot of new ones.

Take this as canon to my story. Season 3 in MLB. It didn't happen but I'll acknowledge some things and change a lot. Like a lot.

Them as vines!

The only time Tim has used bruces money was to buy a hoverboard to go around the house saying whatever they had for lunch or dinner. In the simplest form of that meal.

"We are having Chestnut bisque for dinner." Tim is the first one to know and he gets to his hoverboard and gets a ladle. "We got Soup!" His hand has a motion of scoping up some soup as he rides.

Damian recording as Todd drives, singing, and blasting white girl music.

Dick was going to surprise Damian by taking him out of school for the day, his phone was already in his hand because he didn’t tell him before. He spotted Damian, just in time to see him throw Jon against the lockers.

Tim has a set of keywords that activate the law and order sound. Any speaker around him is put up in the highest setting and blast it through the air.

Ace doesn’t let Tim touch anything Damian has. For one week Tim hasn’t touched the bat computer. He’ll never forgive Ace.

Ace accidentally biting bruce’s dick. It was the first dinner with Marinette and they all wanted to make a good impression. They were all eating dinner and Bruce, mid-bite just makes a noise.

Marinette looks over and he’s looking at Damian, who was also mid-bite. "Dog.” It’s all he says, its chaos after that.

The boys scramble to look under the table. After they do, they can’t stop laughing and Marinette doesn’t move from her spot.

Okay, I want to clear this up for my self, Marinette found out that Damian was robin on accident.

Marinette and Damian didn't interact at all but he has been seen outside of school waiting for somebody. Lila had this 'grand idea' to set them up together. Alya, the 'master' setup. Dragged a delirious Marinette to Chloe's hotel.

"Come on Mari, it's a sleepover!" Marinette couldn't handle this. Just before she had texted Adrien that she was going to Chloe's place for a "sleepover". But Mari didn't believe it. It was 2300 and her 'bedtime' they knew not to bother her. She already took her medicine and it was kicking in.

Alya opened the door and shoved Marinette in, stumbling back, she fell on her butt. Looking around she saw the bathroom light on, but immediately noticed how small it was to Chloe's usual room.

Stumbling to look at her she couldn't help but drag to the bathroom. Opening the sewing kit in there and sticking a needle in her inner thigh. She woke up and carried it around.

"What did you do this time Lila." Groaning as she got up, she limped out to the foyer in time to hear someone open the window.

Turning around She found Robin, mask in hand to be Damian. Damian, on the other hand, didn't understand how this could happen. He was supposed to be alone in his hotel room. Why was Marinette here? It doesn't matter gotta 'fix' this.

At first, Damian attacked her to keep her silent but once she attacked back, they were at a stalemate.

They kept up with each other for hours.

Marinette slipped into the night, leaving him as people knocked on his door. For months, they didn't speak, nor did they meet up as their alter-egos.

Mari actively went out of her way to ignore him. She was furious at him and Damian couldn't care less about her feelings, only mad that he couldn't threaten her to keep his identity secret.

It wasn't until Nightwing talked to Mari. It wasn't until Chat Noir went to fetch him for a bad fight with an Akuma. It wasn't until Ladybug had revealed to be Marinette.

"you know, with someone having a superpower of 'Luck'. You sure make a mess of yourself."

"Whatever. You know my secret and I know yours. Do what you will with it."

They get closer once everything was resolved. Damian got better at handling people, Mari went tougher on people. Slowly falling in love, over the years.

But that's a story for another time.

Before reveal maybe year 2 to 3 italics are in English or another language if it isn’t in English, I’ll clarify

How Chat Noir and Selena first met. “Did you steal my look?” Chat grabs his tail looking her over and he dramatically throws his tail in disgust. “No kitty cat, you stole mine.”

Selena doesn’t realize that she’s been on Marinette’s roof for months. But she does notice how the same ravenette helps kids and kittens in need and sneak some snacks if they look often enough. She’s okay in her book.

The first time Marinette and Selena meet, she was on her balcony caring for her plants. Spray bottle of water on her hand, she hears a heavy ‘thump’ on her roof. Calling out Marinette points her bottle as a gun, just in case. “Chat?”

Selena pokes her head through and sees this small little girl look at her. “This was supposed to be an easy job” Confused, Marinette tilts her head slightly. “What was easy?” Marinette barely began studying English, now she’s thankful that she’s taken the subject seriously.

Marinette was about to be mugged the second time they interact. Chat Noir had been on patrol while Catwoman was on her way to another job. “Hey, there little lady.”

That stopped Catwoman in her tracks. Looking over in the opening of the alley, low and behold, there’s Marinette. Clutching her purse for dear life. Perched on the building behind the mugger is Chat Noir.

They both jump at the same time, noticing each other as they nod in understanding. Before they reach the ground, Marinette already has the mugger on the floor, groaning in pain.

Yearly road trip!

At first, it was the fair or occasional Carnival just outside of town but once the boys grew in numbers and added their interest, they started to fight who’s turn it was yearly.

When Damian joined, it was Tim’s turn and like the year before they got ready to go to another cluster of conventions in L.A. for weeks

Jason would suggest Disney world but always go to Universal Studio for Harry Potter.

Dick goes to stupid places that are weird, like the “Worlds Biggest Yarnball!” Other than that he takes pictures of food in his mouth and post it on Instagram. One moment he’s in New York City with a rainbow Bagel. The next he’s in Canada eating Timbits.

Yes, that’s an actual food item in Canada. They look like doughnut holes but better.

Go soccer baseball! (It's kickball to you, Americans.)

Anyway back to HC.

Babs doesn’t go half the time, but she always down when it’s her turn and she goes all out. Babs mostly goes for the tech conventions but once Dick, Tim, and Steph saw drone racing in Dubai.

They always went to Dubai after that. Damian thinks the drones are mini helicopters and get fascinated by them. He’ll never admit it.

They bribe Lucas to make a custom Duck boat if Lucas gets to go one time. “Y’all are white rich kids, but take me some time.”

Babs decked it out with Video games on the bilge (lower layer of the boat) while where the girls stay on top of the fantail.

They take the road trip very seriously. And literally. They drive. Everywhere.

In the open water, Babs keeps a bucket of chum to throw in the water to attract sharks. The first time it happens dick and Jason ‘freak out’ and reenact Jaws. Tim gets annoyed very quickly, he just wants to play video games. Bruce always stayed in at the wheel.

He can't choose between the boys and girls so he stays there. Once Marinette joined she switches constantly but once she's tired, she stays with bruce to nap.

Steph would go to places outside of the US for Instagram worthy food. Like Dragons Beard in China and Jiggly Cheesecake in Japan.

Cass likes to visit quiet places. Like the renovated Opera house turned Library. No one argues as much on her trip, and they enjoy the peace and scenery. Templo Expiatorio del Santisimo Sacramento, Mexico has been on her list but she always spots something else.

Marinette wants to go to Milan, Italy for Fashion week but she doesn’t plan the trip, the rest of the batfam does. They get her to spill where she would go if she ever got the chance.

They also don't tell her until they show up at the Bakery doorsteps. Honking in a custom Duck Boat, there's Dick Grayson, hanging out of the side yelling “Get in loser we’re going shopping.”

"THE BoWlS MARI. THE BOWLS!!"

"I won't even attempt to try this much effort with anyone else, just marry me instead, Mari. Don't let me indulge to stand another second of insufferable humans." This is how Damian proposes.

Damian having a mild innocence.

Like not knowing what tampons or pads are used for, and asking Bruce about it. Bruce panics for a solid minute before answering. "I'll tell you later." He doesn't.

Jason and dick don't think it's true so they tease him. Dick tried to be subtle by saying Steph was on 'her time of the month.' Jason bulldozed through saying she was stocking up on tampons.

"What are tampons used for." They tell him it's to cover women's vagina. He'll never admit to them that he thought they were to cover battle wounds.

Damian is very weirded when he finds out that Dick or his father having sex with a stranger.

 "You're not supposed to do that." Is his immediate thought.

"Dick, stop having sex with her if you don't plan on marrying her!"

Damian promptly leaves the room. "Where are you going little D?”

Stomping away, "To plan a wedding." He slams the door.

The first time Marinette tries to cuddle Damian, he freaks out.

"Woah, Angel, wait till marriage." Marinette just looks at him confused.

"What do you mean???? This is perfectly fine before marriage."

"Not in my culture!"

Jason and Dick weren't afraid of Marinette before. But ever since 'the Kitchen™" incident' they haven't walked in when she visits.

The Kitchen™ incident as followed.

Sleep-deprived Mari! & Tim! Mari still had ingredients out, she was making coffee cake for them since Tim asked for some "fre sh a voca do" for their desert.

M: Could you put the Ingredients away?

T: What dog? When did we get the dogs in here?

M: What?

T: Did you not say dog?

M: I thought you said you wanted to eat a dick.

T: What?! Mari I don't eat ass.

They were surrounding the island, both were crouched

M: You're not getting my milk.

Tim was moving his arms around and flipped over the island and grabbed the milk, he ran out with Mari following him.

M: No my MALK!!

Damian walked in much later to see where Mari was.

T: Do you know the muffin man?

D: The Muffin Man?

T: The Muffin man

Mari left to find Dami and heard that as she was coming in.

M: Shes married the muffin man.

Damian promptly forgot why he wanted to find her in the first place and leaves. Just silently going "wtf"

They would laugh so much they laid down on the floor, once the timer beeped, Marinette stumbled her way to the oven, accidentally stepping on Tim as well.

Why do they do that?! Both dick and Jason didn't wanna witness any more of this weirdness.

Every time, anybody in the bat fam is hurt, there is a speaker nearby with the CoD 1 zombie 'Game over' soundtrack. Ready to play. It's why common crooks stop hurting them because they can't escape the sound.

Tim did it on accident because he was sleep-deprived but he just kept the algorithm.

His usual response when attacks don't hurt him is. "Mothertrucker dude, that hurt like a buttcheek on a stick"

Jason and Tim mess with Penguin, once penguin caught on that they were only attacking at dusk. He started calling them Dusk Boys™.

"God damn dusk boys. Get off my lawn!"

Mariette witnesses it and coined the term, "Dusking it up." whenever someone was a little shit.

Damian got a kazoo one day, someone 'gave' it to him as they ran away. "It's a social experiment!" More like throwing it in his face. Once he got home he played it. Marinette was visiting for a while.

He showed her first and Tim was with her in the living room, eating cake. After he played it, they both went batshit crazy. Once they aren't sleep deprived, Damian 'serenades' Mari with the kazoo. It's during the next patrol and its right after they beat up another criminal.

She was very surprised and so was everybody else. 1 they are usually so profession about this and not announcing their presence or joking around. It's why she got so much done with him. 

2 She kind of enjoyed it???

Marinette finds herself in Dick.

Since everyone went to the pair to vent or find advice. Marinette sees them struggling and slows down with them. Taking things from scratch, be it subjects they struggle with or talking about people.

Dick can relate because not everyone is willing to talk to others besides Dick. They share tips on how to help. Mari gets ideas on how to talk to others about self-love and dick gets advice that he is doing all he can and more. 

Jason and Mari patrol together and spar together too often. Like when they both don’t want to hold back. Afterward, they get ice cream.

Mari never takes credit because she doesn't want to seem like a brat. But she also doesn't want to turn people down because she loves to help.

So she does her work, invites them in and hangs out with them and doesn't shut them out. She sets a group chat for people struggling in math and science. She also has a weekly get together for emotional support, "It doesn't matter what it is, just say it!" She invites Chloe one time and they have deep conversations about family issues and attitude issues.

Monthly shows.

Mari, Adrien, and Dick sing (ABBA) and dress up, they just call it a show. But once Mari does parkour and acrobatic moves they go on the tightrope.

She doesn't push dick and always uses the net, once dick explains why he didn't want to go in the first place. They take it slow. Explaining moves on the ground and different verbal signals to call out for a new movie or stop.

"I played you like the cheap Kazoo you are." Damian when he gets played by Mari in a game. It was Risk.

They are all instruments. Every single one of them. But their price is on a very wide range. It all depends on their mood.

Some are cooking supplies. "What a tool." No one in the mlb crew likes it.

[niniblack]

As yet untitled Star Wars once upon a time au...

Yes, you read that correctly. Sorry, if you’re waiting on the next chapter of the boyfriend experience. I’ve reverted back to high school and started writing Star Wars prequel time travel modern AUs instead. (The next chapter of TBE is in the works, it’s just angsty as hell so...)

I’m posting this to gauge some reaction because I don’t know many SW people and I haven’t written for this fandom since I was literally in high school, so I’m very rusty. James is Anakin, obv. It helps if you’re at least familiar with the concept of Once Upon a Time (wikipedia has all you need), but that’s really all you need to understand this.

- - -

James decided to treat himself to a glass, or perhaps two, of nice whiskey that evening. It was his birthday after all. They were meant to be special. Even if he’d spend the day working, and was now spending the night alone, for who even knew how many years in a row now.

He’d barely taken a sip when there was a knock on his door.

He hadn’t ordered anything and wasn’t expecting anyone, so was surprised when he opened the door to find a kid standing in the hallway – a mop of blond hair; jeans, a t-shirt with a cartoon on the front, and a nice looking jacket; clutching one strap of a backpack over his shoulder.

“Are you James Smith?” the boy asked.

“What are you selling?” James asked.

The boy frowned. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m Luke.” He waited a moment, looking up at James with wide blue eyes. “I’m your son.”

James wasn’t sure he’d ever been speechless before, but he felt it now. He tried to say something for what felt like a full minute before managing, “I don’t have a kid.”

“Yes, you do.”

James frantically tried to recall what he’d been doing… ten years ago? The kid looked around that age. He’d been 23 and… in the hospital, for six months out of that year. “I don’t think so.”

The boy – Luke – looked annoyed. He shoved past James, into the apartment, and walked down the hall towards the kitchen. “My mom’s name is Paige Nadler,” he said over his shoulder. “You probably don’t remember her though. Or don’t remember that name.”

Paige? James didn’t think he’d ever dated a Paige. “You got the wrong guy, kid,” he told him, letting the door fall shut and following Luke inside. “Where are your parents? How did you get here?”

“You’re my parent,” Luke said. He’d perched himself on one of the kitchen stools. “And I took the bus.”

“From where?”

Luke was spinning around on the stool, letting his backpack drop to the floor, as he surveyed the apartment. “You live by yourself?” he asked.

“Yes,” James said. “Look, you can’t just barge in here and claim I’m your father. I’m not. I’m gonna call someone to pick you up.”

“Not the cops!” Luke was suddenly frantic, jumping off the stool and running over to James’ side to reach for his phone. James held it up out of reach. “Please don’t! I just wanted to meet you!”

James frowned down at him. “I didn’t say I was calling the cops.” When Luke didn’t say anything, he asked, “What’s your mom’s number?”

Luke shook his head. “You can’t call her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t– She’s not–” Luke’s face twisted up, earnest. “You can’t call her.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” James told him, trying to say it gently. It probably didn’t come out that way, because Luke’s eyes were suddenly shiny with unshed tears, and unlike when people tried to use tears to get out of paying him, this time it made James feel awful. “I’m sorry, really. But I’m not your dad. It’s a pretty common name. And it’s a big city. You just got the wrong apartment. I’m sure you’ll find him at the next one.”

“How do you know I’m wrong though?” Luke demanded.

“I–” James paused. He… didn’t, actually. But surely he would know if he had a kid out there. The mother would have told him about it, wouldn’t they?

Luke leapt upon that pause. “See! You don’t know for sure. You could be my dad.”

“If that’s the logic you’re using then the old guy at the end of the hall who smells like piss could be your dad.”

“But we look alike,” Luke argued.

And he did have him there, James had to admit. They had similar coloring, and the same cleft chin. Luke was looking up at him hopefully now, and James sighed. “Lots of guys out there with blue eyes and a dimple.”

Luke sighed too, shoulders slumping.

“Where do you live?” James asked. “I’ll take you home myself instead of calling anyone, okay?” He kind of wanted to meet the kid’s mom, just to see if he did recognize the woman. Unlikely, but worth a shot.

Luke hesitated, but said, “Nuevo Esperanza, New Mexico.

James stared at him. “You took a bus here. From New Mexico.”

“I looked up how much Uber was but it was really expensive,” Luke offered, as if that was a good explanation.

- - -

The gps calculated the drive back to Luke’s hometown in New Mexico at nine hours and thirty-five minutes, and that was with no stops. Which should have been when James saw sense and called the cops to come get this wayward child and deal with him, rather than continuing to handle it himself.

But then he thought of the panicked way Luke had begged him not to. And, honestly, James had no desire to talk to police in even the best of circumstances. Luke still staunchly refused to give up his mother’s phone number, insisting that she couldn’t be contacted. So, it looked like it was up to James to take the kid home. To fucking New Mexico.

James had to sleep before embarking on that, so he set Luke up on the couch with a pillow and sheet and spent the time before he fell asleep hoping the entire encounter had been a weird dream, and that when he woke up the kid who may or may not be his wouldn’t be in his living room anymore.

No such luck.

“Can we stop at Taco Bell?” Luke asked the next morning, once they’d cleared town and gotten into Arizona.

“Do you see a Taco Bell?” James gestured with one hand to the barren desert scrub around them.

“I mean, at the next town.”

“The next town is not going to have a Taco Bell.”

Luke was quiet for half a mile. “McDonalds?”

They were about an hour into New Mexico when Luke asked to stop for probably the third time. There wasn’t a rest stop for miles, and when James suggested just pulling over to the side of the road Luke had turned to look at him with an expression of utter horror on his face. So James found himself driving twenty over and passing trucks with barely enough clearance to get them to the next rest stop before the kid burst. Luke took off running before the car had even come to a full stop.

James twisted his head to the side, trying to crack his neck. And realized that Luke had left his backpack behind. It was the first time he’d seen him let go of it since he’d arrived last night.

He was intending to look for Luke’s phone, and hopefully find it easy to unlock with a contact labeled Mom in plain sight, so he could finally call the woman and confirm that he wasn’t being led on a wild goose chase. It didn’t feel like Luke was lying, but as much as the kid talked he managed to not say anything substantial, and James usually had a good sense for these things. Something was up, beyond whatever had made the kid take a two day bus trip to track him down.

The phone was not easy to unlock. Luke had face I.D. and his passcode wasn’t any of the obvious ones James tried before nearly getting locked out. He dropped the phone back in the bag, and dug around for what else Luke had with him. A spare set of clothes – not that he’d changed into them this morning – a battery and charging cable for the phone, and something hard wrapped inside a t-shirt at the bottom of the bag.

James pulled it out. It was some kind of silver, cylindrical toy, though he had no idea what it was supposed to do.

“What are you doing?” Luke demanded, voice high. He’d left the passenger door hanging open in his mad dash for the rest stop, and was staring at the contents of his bag spread out across the seat in horror.

“Going through your stuff.”

Luke was stunned into silence by the honesty.

“What’s this?” James asked, waving the toy in the air.

“Careful!” Luke reached for it.

James handed it over. “What is it?” he asked again.

Luke bit his lip. “It’s a lightsaber,” he said, emphasizing the word. He was watching James closely, waiting for god only knew what.

“Is that from Star Trek?” James asked.

Luke’s mouth fell open. “What? No!”

James raised an eyebrow at him.

“It’s–” Luke seemed at a loss for words, knuckles white around the lightsaber. “It’s yours.” He said, holding it back out.

James shook his head. “I don’t want your toy, kid.”

“It’s not a toy,” Luke argued. “And it’s yours. Look.” He changed his grip, holding it with two hands, and did something that made a bright blue-white beam of light spring forth from one end. The air was suddenly filled with a buzzing noise, like an electric grid. It grated against James’ senses like nails on a chalkboard.

He clambered out of the car, staring across the roof of it at Luke. “What is that thing?”

Luke’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. “Your lightsaber.”

“It’s a toy.”

Luke glanced around, then took a few steps toward the handicapped parking sign near them and raised the… James wanted to say blade, for some reason, but it wasn’t a blade. It was a child’s toy. An overpowered glow-rod.

It sliced through the metal sign in a clean sweep.

James blinked at it. Blinked again, forcefully. The sign was still sliced in half, and smoking slightly. He stepped toward it. The metal looked melted along the edge.

“What the fuck is that thing?” he demanded.

“I told you,” Luke said. “It’s a lightsaber. It was yours. You just don’t remember.”

“I’d remember if I owned a movie prop that expensive,” James said.

“No,” Luke insisted. “It’s your lightsaber. Your name isn’t James, it’s Anakin. Anakin Skywalker. And you’re my dad.”

James stared at him for a long minute. This was… worse than he’d thought. “That’s just a movie, Luke.” Was the kid’s name even Luke, or had he pulled that from the movie too? James hadn’t actually seen Star Wars, but Luke Skywalker and lightsabers managed to bleed into the general pop culture well enough.

“It’s real,” Luke insisted. “This is real.” He waved the lightsaber, and the blue light made a swish through the air with a swooping sound, the color blurring.

“And you think that I’m… Anakin,” James said.

Luke nodded.

“And your mom?”

“Her name is really Padmé,” Luke said. “She doesn’t remember either. No one does.”

James wasn’t even sure what to say to that. Luke was starting to sound delusional. He was saved coming up with something as Luke launched further into his explanation:

“It’s the whole town,” Luke said. “Time is frozen. No one ever ages or leaves or anything. The Emperor used the Force or something and sent them all here and now everyone is trapped and can’t remember who they used to be.”

“The Emperor used the Force to trap a bunch of Star Wars characters in a town in New Mexico where no one ever ages and they can’t remember being Star Wars characters?” James asked, trying to wrap his head around Luke’s delusion.

“Yes!” Luke said, looking excited for the first time in this conversation. “Well, except for me and Leia. We age. But I think that’s because we were born here.”

“Leia?”

“My sister.”

“Oh, right.” James nodded. “That’s, uh…”

Luke’s face fell, and he turned off the lightsaber, holding it loosely in one hand. “You don’t believe me.”

“I didn’t say that,” James said.

Luke shook his head, staring at a point on the ground between them. “You didn’t have to. No one believes me.”

James felt too tall all of a sudden, standing over him. He crouched down, trying to catch Luke’s gaze. “Hey. I’m taking you home, aren’t I? I’ll talk to your mom and we’ll figure this out, okay?”

Luke scoffed, but didn’t look up.

James tried a different tack. “It is a cool lightsaber.” 

That got him watery blue eyes peering at him from under the too-long bangs.

“Let’s get going again and you can tell me how it works.”

James stood up, and placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder to turn him back towards the car. “Come on. Faster we get going the faster you can ask me to stop for more junk food.”

Luke laughed, a little. “We still haven’t found a Taco Bell.”

“Fine, next Taco Bell it is then.”

[gra-sonas]

In the next episode of The CW series Roswell, New Mexico, entitled “Como La Flor,” Liz (Jeanine Mason) and Rosa (Amber Midthunder) are forced to revisit their past when their estranged mother (Bertila Damas) show back up in their lives. At the same time, Max (Nathan Parsons) is trying to make sense of his own past, now that he’s started having flashbacks to childhood memories that have been long buried.

During this 1-on-1 phone interview with Collider, actor Nathan Parsons talked about why it was important that his character’s death mean something, the different dynamics in Season 2, how much he knew about what Max’s journey would be, where things are at for Max and Liz, Max’s concern for Isobel (Lily Cowles), learning about the aliens’ history as more and more memories come back, how crazy the second season finale will be, and what it’s meant to have such tremendous support from some of the original series cast members.

Collider: First of all, congratulations on already being picked up for a third season. I’m sure that feels nice and reassuring to know that the network believes in the show like that.

NATHAN PARSONS: Yeah, it’s awesome. Especially considering how up in here everything else is right now, it’s nice to know that, whenever we all can get back to the office, we’ve got somewhere to go.

Now that Max is officially back in the world of Roswell, what was your reaction when you were first told that he was going to die? Were you like, “Hey, did you forget that I’m the male lead of this show?,” or were you game for however that played out?

PARSONS: Honestly, I had an inkling that it was spiraling towards that, pretty much for most of Season 1. Obviously, you never know for sure until it’s on the piece of paper in front of you, in the script, but I had an inkling of it. By the time the script for that episode came around, and it was like, “All right, officially, you’re dead,” I was so exhausted with the crazy schedule of shooting the season that I was like, “Thank you! I’ll take it. I can take a nap.” The end of last season was absolutely insane. We were in the pouring rain, in freezing temperatures, screaming at each other for 18 hours a day, so that’ll take it out of you. I was actually a little excited about it because it was like, “What else is gonna happen? What are you doing?” I think the writers did a great job of giving me little things to play with, via a little zombie action, or the imaginary friend. Those were all fun things for me to chew on, while people were figuring out how to bring me back.

What was it like to be a part of the show, before you were officially back in the storyline? Did it feel weird to have it be so very different, at the beginning of the season, or was it fun to get to play with some different dynamics and aspects of the character, that you couldn’t have done last season?

PARSONS: It was both, to be honest. I love all of the things that I got to play with. It’s fun to play. That’s why we do what we do. But it was a little confusing ‘cause I would show up to a table read, and I would have no idea what was going on. People would be talking, and there were characters and I didn’t know who they were or what they did. But I knew my little bit and I focused on that, which was fun. So, it was both. It was very confusing and I was pretty lost, but I enjoyed it. I tried to make the most of it.

How much of Max’s journey were you told about, at the beginning of this season? Did you know how and when he would ultimately come back, before that happened?

PARSONS: I knew, pretty much from the end of Season 1. Between Season 1 and Season 2, I had a lot of conversations with the writers about how we didn’t want Max to come back, right away. That’s cheap. His death had to matter, otherwise, what were we doing? So, I knew it would be some time. Beyond that, I didn’t really know much. My purview into what was going on was so narrow because I wasn’t there for most of it. It was actually nice going in, not necessarily knowing what’s going on because it puts me immediately in the same place Max is in. When I wake up, eight months, or whatever it is, after I died, all of this stuff has happened and I’m going, “Huh? What? You’re doing what now?!” So, it was fun to play catch up, on screen. When I’m asking everybody, “What happened,?,” I was really genuinely asking about what happened because I didn’t know. I really enjoyed that. Going forward, from the time I come back until the end of the season, I had a vague idea of what was going on, but you never know until you see the script.

It feels like Max’s journey this season is only just beginning, now that he’s back. What can you say to tease this next episode and what we’ll see with him?

PARSONS: Well, we know that Max and Liz are back, essentially. Now, we’re gonna Liz’s mom come back into the picture, played by the amazing Bertila [Damas]. She brings a whole new level of complexity to that whole family dynamic because now we’re no longer just Liz and Max. It’s now Liz and Max, and Rosa, and their dad, and now the mom’s coming back. We’ve got the whole family going. That’s a whole web to untangle, right there.

How does Max feel about all of that? Is it more than he bargained for?

PARSONS: It always is, right? You start a relationship and suddenly you go, “Oh, you’re the sibling? Hi, it’s nice to meet you. You’re the dad? Hi, it’s very nice to meet you. And you’re the mom? Okay. It’s very nice to meet you.” You end up getting slammed through that gauntlet, sooner or later, and in this case, it’s happening sooner. I don’t think you ever quite anticipate that, but it always happens. I don’t know why we think that we can escape it because it always happens.

Isobel has always been a little intense, even before Max died, and now she’s even more intense about wanting to spend time with him. What can you say about the dynamic between Max and Isobel now, and what is he most concerned about, when it comes to her?

PARSONS: I think it’s just that, her intensity. I don’t know what she’s been through, with the pregnancy and all of that. I just know that she’s a little more chomping at the bit. They had that huge fight, that big smack down, and she’s obviously become super powerful. It’s a little like, “Easy up, sis. I’m here. It’s cool.” For me, it’s only been a minute, so not much has changed. For her, it’s been a lot longer. I don’t really have an understanding of what she’s been through, so it’s like, “Hold your horses,” a little bit there.

Max had a very interesting vision, at the end of the last episode, and obviously you’ll get into that more, this season. What can you say to tease that, and where that will lead him, this season? Are we going to learn more about his alien side?

PARSONS: Absolutely. You’re gonna learn more about all three of us and our history. That’s always been a burning question, since the beginning. What happened before we woke up in the desert? No one knows. We don’t remember. It’s bee suppressed. Now, we know that they were experimenting and that’s horrible, but that was all post pod. Now, suddenly, these memories are starting to pop up. Not only is it an effect of being dead and being in a pod for so long and having those members seep in, but also it’s just my effort to suppress those memories and suppress the questions of, who are we? Where do we come from? I’ve worked so hard to try to be human, but I’m not. That’s a tough pill to swallow. At the end of Season 1, Noah said, “This is who we are. This is where we come from. Whoever wins the war is coming for you.” And it was like, “What war? What are you talking about? Why were we in these eggs?” All of that stuff has been a question, from the beginning. Noah re-awoke it. As much as I’m still trying to suppress it, now it’s going, “Sorry, I’m already awake now. And they’re coming back. Whether you want to remember or not, you’re going to.” And then, you have to decide, if you keep trying to suppress it or if you go, “Fine, what do I need to know? How do I remember? Who the hell are we? Where did we come from?” That’s really where the shift is gonna come, and we see that more and more of these memories are coming back.

Obviously, you want those answers, but at the same time, is that also scary for him?

PARSONS: Absolutely. That’s why I’ve suppressed it for so long, to begin with. It’s scary enough that we all have these weird powers. It’s even scarier to think, if we were only children and we can do what we can do, and I can call down a lightning storm and throw it into someone’s chest as an untrained child, what were we capable of? What are we capable of? And do we want to know? Not necessarily, but we don’t have a choice. That’s why you go, do I pretend that it doesn’t exist? I’ve squashed that part of myself so hard that it’s almost like I’m normal, but at the end of the day, I’m not. I’m not like everybody else. You can only do that for so long, before it comes around and bites you.

Without giving away any spoilers, what can fans expect from the season finale? Last season, you had a big finale where your character ended up dead, so how does this season’s finale compare to that?

PARSONS: It’s still pretty crazy, I would say. Maybe some more people die. Maybe there are much bigger plots going on than we ever thought there were, to begin with, and they all crash to a head. We learn that there’s more to this world than our little town of Roswell, and we’ll see how that explodes before us.

It’s very cool that this re-imagining of this story has also been able to include some of the original cast members, with Shiri Appleby directing episodes and Jason Behr guest starring this season. What’s it meant to the cast, to see the original cast supporting the series and to have them around?

PARSONS: It’s awesome. This was such a loved series, when it first aired. When we first started, before Season 1 ever aired, people were going, “You’ll never replace the original. There will never be another Max.” And they’re right. I’m not Jason Behr. I’m not able to do what he did. I’m not trying to do what he did. We’re not trying to. The wonderful thing is that the cast from that original said, “No, you’re right. We’re all a part of this huge family here, and we all love this weird world that we all work in and live it.” Their support has been awesome, from the beginning. Back in Season 1, Shiri fist directed for us. Jason came in this year, and he’s been a wonderful help for me, personally, just because I admire him, as a person and as an actor. To have him around and his support is wonderful. You can’t ask for anything more than that. It’s really been nice. If there’s one thing that we’ve tried to really work at it’s to keep these stories fresh. Ultimately, every story has been told, so it’s about finding new ways to tell them. And to include the people that came before us and set the tone, to begin with, elevates what we’re trying to do. Together, as a whole family, two separate series have come together, and I think it’s wonderful.

~ Collider

[kinnsporsche]

we can raise a little family (maybe we'll be alright)

Whilst waiting for Michael at his trailer, Alex witnesses a crash and gets much more than he bargains for.

Alternatively: a post 1x13 fix-it-au.

word count: 2k

read on ao3

If there was one thing Alex hated most in the world, it was waiting. Waiting meant silence and silence meant more time for him to get lost in his head; and that was not a place he wanted to let himself get lost in.

But Michael had promised that they would talk today, and so he was content to wait for him. He’d spent years of his life turning away and running but now… now he was done. Now he would plant his feet firmly in the ground and say no more, no more running, this is who I am, and this is who I want.

At least, he would if the person he wanted showed up.

He’d waited an hour before he gave in to the restlessness. His good leg ached from disuse and he could feel the phantom aches twinging where his other leg used to be. He’d paced around the junkyard for a while, fingertips skimming across beat-up old cars and whatever else he could get a hold of to occupy his mind for a while.

He waited another hour before texting Isobel. She’d insisted he take her number when he first came back into town; she’d told him it was in case she needed help planning the parade she knew he didn’t want. Alex wonders if that’s true now.

The reply didn’t come until the third hour, and by then the weather had shifted to a light drizzle. He’d taken shelter inside Michael’s airstream, alternating between sitting on the edge of the bed and taking in the numerical sequences and equations that were littered across the walls. Right, Michael was still trying to leave the planet. He’d have to talk to him about that.

Noah’s gone, everything’s fine. We’ll be fine.

Alex had wanted to press. He’d wanted to push the subject until Isobel told him where Michael was and why he wasn’t answering his phone and why he was anywhere but here when here is exactly where he’d promised he would be.

Then he remembered everything she’d been through in the last few days and decided against it. He’d dropped the conversation with a quick thanks, take care.

His phone ended up half way across the trailer.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. When he opened his eyes next, there was silence. The rain wasn’t pounding against the outside of the trailer and the pieces of scrap metal that Sanders had hung around the place weren’t banging against each other anymore.

Alex hissed when he tried to move, a twinge of pain shooting up his leg. Sleeping with his prosthetic was never a good idea; he’d definitely be paying for that for the rest of the night. When he finally managed to find his phone – thankfully nestled against what Alex knew was the bloody shirt Michael had peeled off in a hurry the night before – the clock told him he’d been asleep for just over two hours. He let out a litany of curses before he pushed the airstream door open, calling out Michael’s name. His truck wasn’t back though, and there were no fresh tire tracks in the gravel.

He checked his phone. Nothing.

He checked around for a note, hoping maybe he’d just missed him. Nothing.

He checked around for any sign that Michael Guerin hadn’t stood him up. Nothing.

God, he hoped he was wrong. Maybe Michael just needed space. Space from the world after everything that had happened to him the past few days, space from his home and his friends, space from him.

Still, those thoughts did nothing to stop his heart from shattering in his chest.

Alex turned and marched back to his car, shaking hands searching his jacket for the keys that he struggled to get into the lock. He cursed when he dropped them, hands braced against the roof of the car with his head nestled on them. He squeezed his eyes shut tight like he used to do when he was a child and it felt like the world wanted to go to war with him.

He counted to five.

Inhaled.

Exhaled.

And picked up his keys.

Something bright caught his attention in the reflection of his car window and for a second; for a bright, beautiful second; he let himself have hope. He let himself think it was Michael’s truck pulling up. That he’d just let the voice in his head run riot again and that Michael was actually here like he said he would be. If he could bottle a moment and live in it forever, he’d choose that one.

Logically, though, he knew the reflection was too high up on his window and the world wasn’t kind enough to let it be headlights.

Alex turned, an explanation for why he’d been hanging out here for the past half a dozen hours on the tip of his tongue but saw nobody. Instinctively, he glanced up.

And that was when he saw it.

The lights were faint; if he didn’t know any better he would assume that it was just someone flying a drone or setting off a dud firework. But this was Roswell, and he knew better. In the distance the light grew brighter and expanded somewhat before disappearing just beyond the horizon.

This time when Alex fumbled with his keys, his hands weren’t shaking.

-

It took Alex longer than he would care to admit to find the crash site – in his defence, he was a codebreaker, not a navigator. He could follow instructions easily enough but eyeballing a crash site in the middle of the desert wasn’t exactly an easy task.

The crash site was small, the debris from whatever it was that crashed hadn’t spread far and as far as he could see, it hadn’t shattered into very many pieces. There was maybe half a dozen glowing iridescent pieces scattered a few feet away from him surrounding something small and circular.

He briefly remembered Michael telling him about their pods, but this one seemed different. For starters, it was tiny; it was small enough that he could probably carry it around without any difficulty. And second, it was smoking. That didn’t exactly seem like something it should be doing.

A high-pitched sound from a few paces away caught his attention and he whipped his head in that direction, heartbeat picking up in his chest when he caught movement underneath some sort of tarp. Alex crossed over to it and gripped one of the corners. He took a breath, counted to five again, and whipped it off.

Shock consumed him, and for a good few seconds he stood motionless as he took in the scene before him.

On the floor in front of him under the New Mexico sky, was a baby. A happy, gurgling baby whose hands were curled into fists and outstretched towards him. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had just crashed from the sky. A happy, gurgling, alien baby that had only been covered by the tarp in the middle of the desert.

“Oh my god.” Alex shrugged his leather jacket off once he’d regained control of his motor functions and gently scooped the babbling baby up in his arms. He draped the jacket around her, hand rubbing small circles over her back when she nestled against his shoulder and started cooing quietly. He could already feel a small patch of drool seeping through his shirt and onto his shoulder.

“What happened here, hm?” Alex asked, more to himself than to the bumbling baby in his arms. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been another crash since 1947. So why now? And why the hell send down a baby? Michael and the others were kids when they came out of their pods, so why was this different?

With a sigh, Alex walked over to his car and swung open the passenger door. He made sure the baby was warm in his jacket and moved to set her down gently on the seat. He almost dropped her when she let out the most blood curdling cry he’d ever heard – a cry that stopped as soon as she was leaning back against his shoulder.

“Okay, okay! Note to self, don’t put the baby down.”

Alex glanced around at the debris scattered around and groaned; this was going to be much harder with only one hand free. He stored it all away in the trunk of his car, doing his best to hide the broken iridescent alien pod that he was now hiding in his car. When he was sure he had it all, he closed the trunk with a gentle thud, so he didn’t irritate the baby, and walked around the side of his car.

A twinge of pain shot up his leg when he sat down behind the wheel, and the hand that wasn’t holding onto the baby shot down to grip just above the point where his prosthetic met his leg. He manoeuvred her so that she was sitting on his lap instead of against his shoulder and tried desperately to work out the cramp that was sending spasms of phantom pain down his leg.

The baby let out an irritated gurgle, but Alex had his eyes squeezed shut tight as he tried to remember how to breathe – his physical therapist had taught him some breathing exercises that were supposed to get him through the pain, but the pain seemed to be the only thing he could focus on.

And then it stopped.

Alex’s eyes flew open. It took a few moments to adjust to something other than the darkness that had been blocking out his vision moments ago, but when he finally did he saw a small hand resting on his arm and a pair of wide brown eyes looking up at him. The baby cooed when their gazes met, moving her hand away to reveal a glowing, iridescent handprint on his skin.

“Holy shit-” Alex’s eyes were wide as he stared down at the mark. The baby giggled in response and slapped a small hand over her mouth.

“Language, right. Don’t swear around tiny alien babies. Got it.” He stared at the handprint on his arm for a few more seconds, watching the way the colours shifted as he turned his arm in the light.

“I think we need to have a conversation about leaving handprints on strangers, young lady,” Alex hummed, unable to stop himself from beaming at the gentle gurgle he got in response. The baby nuzzled back up against him and closed her eyes, mouth opening in a small yawn that he should not have found adorable in the slightest.

“No, listen you can’t sleep here I have to drive us home-.”

Alex cut himself off, eyebrows furrowing for a moment. Us? Home?

“I mean I have to drive us back to my place whilst I figure out what to do, and it’s definitely illegal for you to be sleeping in my lap.” The baby didn’t move though, just curled a small hand in his shirt and closed her eyes. He could have sworn the smile on her face held a hint of smugness.

The internal debate on whether or not to move her lasted all of three seconds before he was reminded of the wail she let out earlier and he decided to let her stay.

“If a cop tries to pull us over and I have to outrun them, you’re in big trouble missy.”

Alex started up the car and put it into drive, one hand on the wheel and the other rubbing small circles into the babies back over his leather jacket. If he drove ten miles under the speed limit the whole way home, nobody had to know besides him and the precious cargo that he was carrying in his lap.

[voiceofselcouth]

Blog Six.

It’s been a few days since my last post, I know. It’s sort of a long story.

After I spent the night, Kora was so sweet. She made breakfast – I don’t know if all Mexican food is this good, or if it’s just her cooking – and it was just… Nice. I haven’t sat down and had breakfast with someone in so long. My mom always works night shifts at the hospital now, I barely even see her most mornings. 

Then she suggested we drive out to the desert. See where they found Lucille, and if there was anything there to help. Maybe seeing where she died would make something click. At first, I was hesitant: we’re not meant to go out of town without a good reason, and doing it with an Outsider?  I might be a rulebreaker, but I’m not stupid.

But then I thought of Lucille. How they carted her body in, her blonde hair matted into clumps with blood and sand. The gouges where her eyes had been, the rope dangling around her neck … I had to go. To see the place for myself, to try and understand. She would have done the same for me. 

So I agreed.

It wasn’t a long drive, half an hour or so straight into the desert. I used to drive this route a lot with my mom when I was a little girl, sometimes we would even bring Lucille and her mom too. The pair of us sat in the back of the dusty pickup truck, enjoying the sun as it beat down on us and the taste of desert sand drying the back of our throats. Lucille would always get sunburnt right the way across her shoulders, red lines that followed the curves and sleeves of her dresses. 

We would get to the town we were heading to, someplace my mom could collect some of the medical supplies for the hospital, and we would run out of the car and around the streets. Gathering supplies from other towns is one of the only reasons we’re allowed to leave, so we made the most of the freedom. Running in and out of the shops, looking at all the window displays while we had the freedom to be somewhere new.

Then, when we got older, it would just be us from time to time. Going to pick things up for our parents, or just for the change of scenery on a hot summer’s day.

It was different now, driving it without her. There was no loud pop music crackling over the radio, no Lucille in the seat next to me singing along in that slightly out of time way she always had. Not that Kora was bad company mind, it just wasn’t the same. 

We talked a little. Nothing important, just about the weather, if we had travelled - I haven’t, but Kora went to Europe once - that sort of thing. It was mundane, and normally I would have been bored. But listening to her describe her home? How Mexico was full of colours and festivals so unlike ours, or her large family waiting for Kora to come home? It was comforting. The more I get to know her, the more I realise why Lucille liked her so much. Kora is so endlessly kind with only good things to say about anyone and anything, and those smiles that made her look like a model. She even complimented my rusty old pickup as it rumbled through the sand - it’s not sunbleached she said, it's just quirky. The old hand-winded windows were vintage, not old. She always finds positives. 

Then things got weird. Like, really, really weird. I knew where they said they had found her body – it was a tree we all used as a landmark between the two towns, right at the base of a hill we had to drive around. You couldn’t miss it.

I pulled over a few meters away, not wanting to disturb anything, and we headed over to nothing. Literally, there was nothing there. Not the rest of the rope they had cut her down from, no blood on the tree or the rocks. It was like Lucille had never even been there. I’m no expert, but for someone’s body to be so brutally attacked like hers was, torn apart by wild animals…Surely there should have been something. Anything.

I remember standing below the tree, looking up at the branch and feeling the terrifying numbness creeping back in. It felt like my chest was tightening, like I couldn’t breath and the air was too hot and my best friend was dead and everything was a lie – Then there were arms around me. 

Kora sank to the ground with me in silence, holding me in her arms and stroking my hair as I cried. It felt like it lasted forever, the two of us sitting in the sandy dirt, confused and scared and clinging on for dear life. This was enough proof, more than anything, that the council had to be lying. Covering up whatever was happening to Lucille, to Kora’s brother.

Being there in her arms, grieving so openly with someone, was healing. It made it all that tiny bit more bearable: I wasn’t alone, I had someone who understood.

Then the sound of a car cut through the air. No, not a car – several, all speeding through the dirt towards us. The council members.

I’ve always been scared of them, but now it felt different. It was different. Now I knew that they could do something like this, lie so blatantly, I couldn’t help but fear what else they could be driven to do if we kept getting in the way. I was too terrified to even move, frozen on the ground and clinging to Kora so tight it must’ve left bruises. 

“Regan! Regan!” My mom shouted my name as they pulled up, clamouring out of the car and running towards me. 

Her eyes were red-rimmed with tears, but there was something else on her face behind the worry. A sort of guilt. I wish I could say I was happy to see her, but as they pulled me away from Kora, some of the council members tossing Kora into the back of their truck the same way they had thrown around Lucille’s lifeless body, I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything but blind rage.

How could they treat her like that? How could they all buy into this bullshit? I turned back to my mom, willing to beg and plead that they go easy on Kora. To explain it was my fault we were out there, that they had no reason to hurt her. Then it clicked. The council wouldn’t know I was out here with Kora, nobody knew we were together. Nobody but my mother, that was.

It’s funny, me and Lucille used to say I had the good mom, and now here she was ratting me out to the council. 

I don’t remember what I said to her – I screamed and kicked the sand, told them I wouldn’t get in the car, but then Easton was there. He was more gentle than the other men, telling me to calm down, that it was going to be alright. I don’t think I actually trusted him, but I calmed down. If I can’t trust my own mom, why would I trust Lucille’s cousin? He could have been in on it too.

But there was something so familiar about his calming voice, the same tone Lucille used to take, the one he used on us both when we were little girls and he was helping to sneak us sweets or get us out of trouble with Lucille’s mom.

He sat with me the entire ride back and let me cry on his shoulder, assuring me that we weren’t in trouble – he said they had been worried, not angry, that we had driven off. That my mom thought I was running away. It’s funny, how everyone seems to think running away is the answer to everything.

That was almost a week ago, and I haven’t seen Kora since. They sent her back to her hotel under house arrest, confiscated all our research, searched my laptop and even took my phone so I couldn’t text her. I’ve never been so glad I used incognito for this blog, if they found it going through my laptop...I doubt I would still be breathing.

I’m going to find a way to get back to her. Kora is the only person I can trust, the only person who makes any of this make sense. Without her, it feels like fear and loneliness are going to eat me alive. I’ve already lost my best friend, I can’t lose Kora too.

[angsty-nerd]

On New Year's Eve, I marathon watched episodes 1-6...because it just felt like a good way to end 2019. I did the 2nd half of the season last night.

Yesterday morning I was listening to the current insane version of my Echo playlist on my way to work, and the song Wind & Anchor by the National Parks was playing and it got me thinking about Liz leaving, and how abruptly she changed (or was changed by Isobel's meddling).

Here's what we know from Canon. We have Liz and Max's prom night bonding that we see in 1x06. Two weeks before graduation, Liz tells Rosa, "Maybe I don't want to miss Max Evans". The afternoon of the night Rosa dies, Liz and Max have a semi-date, go out to the desert, drink beer, dance, almost kiss. Liz tells Max, "I don't want to be a leaver like my Mom." It's clearly important to her. Max offers to go with her on her road trip and she is shocked, but thrilled, at the suggestion. She doesn’t pull away. The idea of it doesn’t freak her out. If anything, she leans into the idea. Her body language portrays excitement. Her smile gets wider, she gets closer to him, and eventually just ends up in his arms by the end of the scene.

I tried to find a gif of this scene to emphasize my point, but alas, somehow there seems to be this one Echo scene that hasn’t been giffed! So you’re stuck with my crappy screen caps instead. And I couldn’t resist keeping the first and last one bigger because they’re such friggin gorgeous shots. New Mexico people.

After Rosa dies, Max says he wanted to tell Liz the truth, but when he went to do so, she was saying goodbye to her family and leaving. Isobel and Michael both confirm that he wanted to tell Liz the truth and they both knew it. Isobel and Michael decide that Max's feelings for Liz are too dangerous and Isobel gets inside Liz's head and "erases it" (per Michael) to make Liz forget how she feels about Max (implied by Isobel in 1x04). Michael tells Liz, "you didn't leave town of your own volition." Isobel still swears up and down that she can only influence people, that she can't make them do things they don't want to do, but that doesn't entirely jive with the whole she'll just forget how she feels about you statement.

I know I’ve read some fabulous meta over Isobel’s certainty in how her powers had successfully worked on Liz in the past and therefore why they would work again, and I don’t really want to reexplore this from Isobel’s perspective. I’ll just direct you to @latessitrice’s fabulous meta on it over here instead: https://latessitrice.tumblr.com/post/189111618847/mini-meta-this-time-focussing-on-isobel-sending

In classic angsty nerd fashion, I want to look back at the what ifs instead, because it’s those what ifs that haunt me as a fan of the show and as a person invested in this relationship.

Because it’s fairly clear that Liz’s perspective changed. And yes, most of that has to do with Rosa dying. But I think Isobel’s influence also played a huge factor. I think Isobel got into Liz’s head and erased her memory of her feelings for Max. And I do think she made her leave town, and I don’t think that Liz would have run the way she did without that influence. I DO think Liz would have still gone on her road trip. But I think that after her family being destroyed by Rosa’s death and the resulting racism, that made leaving extremely appealing. And then not having that desire for Max as a driving factor anymore, suddenly there felt like there was nothing worth staying for, and all the reasons to leave.

But, as a fan of the show, the what if that makes me the craziest, is of course being robbed of Liz’s reaction to being separated from Max. Without those feelings, she didn’t get to react, she couldn’t react. Whereas, we know, it devastated Max. We know he pined and suffered and fell into a state of extreme depression that pretty much lasted most of the decade, if his own words are accurate in describing how he felt with Liz gone. But with her feelings erased, Liz was like a blank slate until she finally came home.

I’ve always been somewhat fascinated by Liz’s reaction to seeing Max in the pilot, before the shooting. I’ve seen lots of fandom interpretations of her just being stunned at the sight of him. And I do think there’s some of that, but I think there’s something else going on too. Liz’s mind was likely still affected by Isobel’s influence. There had been nothing to shake her free of it with a decade away from Roswell and Max. Before she sees Max, she’s quickly established as a fighter, as someone with a sharp tongue who isn’t easily shaken. But then she sees Max, and she’s frozen. Shook. Stunned. Speechless.

I think that it’s her brain fighting Isobel’s influence.

She sees Max and she immediately starts to feel. But her brain has been told to forget those feelings. So as she flashes to memories of longing for Max in high school, at the same time as she’s processing those feelings, her brain is trying to shut them down, and thus, the internal struggle leaves her frozen and unable to fully react. And once she’s given an opportunity, what’s the first thing she does? She follows Isobel’s instructions. She leaves the checkpoint and continues on her way without even looking back. And by the time she’s talking to her father, she’s not even thinking about Max anymore. Just about ICE and the potential danger to her father.

Then, a few hours later, Max walks into the Crashdown to see her. And what happens again? The same thing. Frozen. Shook. Stunned. Speechless. At least at first. I love this gifset of that moment: https://goodvibesinroswell.tumblr.com/post/188098149117/good-vibes-of-the-day-max-liz-shook

But then, having that feeling and that internal struggle twice in one night allows her to fight the influence, and somehow she just feels enough to ask him to stay for that milkshake. Which in turn allows her to have a conversation.

Until of course, she gets shot. And Max heals her. And in healing the bullet in her chest, what if the healing also managed to repair whatever was broken in her brain from Isobel’s influence? Because from that point on, she doesn’t seem to have trouble interacting with Max. The next time she sees him she’s got a plan and a purpose and doesn’t struggle to stick to it.

And then once he comes clean to her...once they talk and she begins to understand how he feels about her, the feelings came back quickly. Which takes me back to being AAAANGSTY over the what ifs. Because without that influence, maybe she would have missed Max. Maybe she would have wanted to visit. Maybe just that one more thing would have made Roswell a little less awful to remember.