#and i think that with enough of a transformation of the source material

[autobot-ratchet]

man. I fuckin love transformers lmAO I'm so glad to be back into it again

[frownyalfred]

Hi. I'm not a canon purist and enjoy some fanon content very much, but I do think people in the fandom should at least familiarize themselves with the canon content and source material. It's easier to break the "rules" so to speak and experiment with canon when you know what that actually is. I've noticed a lot of fans that are only familiar with fanon criticise content that doesn't line up with what they believe to be canon but isn't. The Red Hood for example. I've seen writers who portray him as the violent criminal he is in much of the canon be completely decimated by Jason fans who only know fanon and the retconned version of Red Hood and completely deny canon even exists and refuse to even glance at the comics. Transformative works are important and playing in the sandbox is for everyone but fandom literally cannot exist without canon. Canon is important and people can do whatever they want with it but they should respect it enough to at least look at it.

Hi anon, I'm going to hold your hand as I say this, and I will say it as gently as I can: This is still a form of canon purism.

We can absolutely agree that readers shouldn't berate or abuse writers for how they choose to portray characters in fic, whether that's a more canon-faithful characterization or a popular fanon version. If readers don't like how a character is portrayed, we should encourage them to hit the back button instead.

I want to draw your attention to some of the words you used in your ask above: "should" "respect" "decimated" etc. Those are some strong words to describe how you think people need to behave, in order to exist in fandom. Of course, there is no fandom without canon source material -- I'm not denying that. But with such a wide and varied canon, the DC fandom has examples of the Red Hood you mention above, AND the "retconned" version you also reference. Both are canon, as in actually, officially, canon. WFA is canon, and that Red Hood looks very different from the Red Hood you describe.

Now, I think your issue is that you enjoy a certain version of canon, and you're frustrated that the fandom doesn't also, as trends ebb and flow, enjoy that canon as much as you do. Again, I want to acknowledge that just because a certain version is popular, it doesn't give folks the right to berate authors for writing a different version. But again, I don't think that's what we're really talking about here. From your ask's tone, I think you're suggesting that people should, in order to participate in fandom, read that older canon, that different version, or as you say, "glance at it" before enjoying or writing the fanon version.

Guess what? They actually, really, really, don't have to. It sounds like you have some issues with judging your fellow fandom members who don't read what you do or reference certain canon. But the magic of this fandom is, you can enter it at any point. We're a big pool, and if someone's entry point is the Lego Batman movie and that's it, that's still valid.

Fandom stems from canon, yes, but I almost never hear people talk about movies, or web comics, or other media when they talk about "required reading." It's always a comic. I really wish people would reflect on that before suggesting it as the one true path to being a fan.

The other thing I don't see asks like these reference ever is the reality that sometimes a fandom outstrips its canon material, and that that's an eventuality in some spaces. Fanon interpretations become popular, and people write about those specific characterizations or scenarios. They ebb and flow, like I mentioned, and some are more canon-faithful than others. Some completely reject canon, and again -- it's still fandom. It doesn't make it better or worse than a more canon-faithful fic. It's just different.

I had a couple asks about this topic a few weeks ago, and I'm assuming you haven't read those or you likely wouldn't have sent me this ask. But in them, I discuss how sometimes we need to suck it up and be unhappy that canon-faithful fics aren't as popular in a fandom at a specific time, and stop punishing fellow fans for writing and enjoying those fics. And we really need to stop shitting on them publicly on Tumblr.

Because often, what you're really saying is that you wish more people would write more canon-faithful fics, and stop writing ones about fanon topics you don't enjoy or think are accurate. And to that, I again say, there is nothing you can or should do to change that behavior from others. If you want to read it, write it, enjoy it, etc, do it yourself. Build the comic-faithful community here, write fics and promote challenges, create a discord channel and discuss your "required reading" there.

We are all writing and reading fanfiction at the end of the day. It is a great equalizer in many ways. My silly Lego Batman fic is just as valid as a canon-faithful rewrite of a certain Batman issue. One is not better than the other, or more deserving of respect. You will never get me to admit otherwise on this blog.

tl;dr: people should absolutely not berate authors who choose to write canon-faithful characterizations. however, there are layers of judgement and disdain many DC comics canon-faithful authors/readers have for their fellow fans that I think we need to examine critically in order to coexist respectfully.

[cityofmeliora]

the Nameless Ghouls lore post 🎭

i've posted about some of this stuff before, but i wanted to make a separate post about it because i think the canon lore material for the Nameless Ghouls is pretty interesting and cool!!

the Nameless Ghouls are humans who were killed and transformed into undead servants of The Clergy through a ritual sacrifice.

various sources indicate the Nameless Ghouls are humans.

the Era 0 Ghouls are obviously humans.

The Future Is A Foreign Land // Metal Myths

Primo has stated that the Ghoul Writer is a human.

That’s right. Ghost have their music written for them. In one online interview, a so-called “ghoul writer” is mentioned who supposedly composes melodies and lyrics with the help of ungraspable powers from beyond – devilish whispers instruct him which words should accompany which chords, and so forth. “There is indeed a human individual who composes patterns of tones and words which operate ever so beautifully in unison. However, I am of the belief that there is a higher being who speaks through this individual,” asserts the Pope. Sweden Rock Magazine (November 2010)

the Meliora lore video series The Summoning shows the Nameless Ghouls are just humans who wear costumes. the Nameless Ghouls are seen unmasked and not wearing uniforms while the band was between album cycles. Sister Imperator presented their new masks to them, and they always wore their uniforms from that point forward.

The Summoning

later, Sister Imperator says that the Ghouls' devil masks are actually meant to be the faces of their dark gods, which the Ghouls wear as representatives of the church.

SISTER IMPERATOR: You wear your masks for the press, but your masks were never intended to simply hide your faces– they are the visage of the Gods, and you mock them with your senseless orgies and trysts. Even your depravities are dull! The Summoning VI: The Proceedings Intensify

the lore also indicates the Nameless Ghouls are undead servants.

in The Summoning, Sister Imperator describes ritually sacrificing the Ghouls– she kidnapped them, tied them up, and buried them alive.

SISTER IMPERATOR: It started with a vision: you were all standing before me, hoodwinked and bound with both caddy and shack! I led you each toward a coffin, where you were made to lie down. The lids were closed, and one by one, I placed a level on the top to make sure you were still and cold in the darkness. Iron nails fell from my hands and scattered like leaves around my feet. The Summoning V: The Square And Hammer

at first, i wasn't sure if she was talking about literal events, but she later mentions the "harrowing initiation" the Ghouls went through, so it would seem that this event did actually happen and it's how the Nameless Ghouls became Ghouls.

SISTER IMPERATOR: I charge you with dereliction of duty! For the harrowing initiation you have been through, I would charge you with treason! The Summoning VI: The Proceedings Intensify

the 2022 lore video Metal Myths describes the dead Papas I, II, and III as being reanimated "faceless ghouls". though the Papas are just kept in their glass coffins and don't get to do anything else, i think this still fits with the description of Ghouls as dead servants. they were killed and are now being used in service of the Clergy.

DUSTY COMSTOCK: If the breaking of the sacred bloodline wasn't enough, what Sister Imperator did next was shocking. She had orchestrated, and had carried out, the assassinations of Papas 1, 2, and 3. They'd been housed in The Ministry since their retirements, as is customary, but Sister, with the collaboration and support of Papa Nihil, had a different plan for what should become of them: reanimate them, and use them as 'faceless ghouls' on the impending tour. Once on tour, these former Papas would be entombed in a traveling crypt, as in the catacombs of old. Metal Myths: Ghost Pt. 2 (April 2022)

the Nameless Ghouls in the band are considered to be Papa's apostles and missionaries / leaders to believers of the church.

SISTER IMPERATOR: I expect no more interruptions. You had your chance to defend yourselves. Without your guitar and drums, you are are mere acolytes, not the grand missionary men you were trained to be. You want to be equal to your Papa? Ha! [...] Why are believers still living in secret, spinning your records in their parents' basements? Why have you not led them into the murky light of His shadow? You are supposed to lead. It is your task. Your task! To lead! I think you're afraid of real change. Let's take a breath. I think I understand the problem. You think Papa's words should be enough. But then you misunderstand the nature of true power. Papa is not a mouthpiece for the Dark Divinity. He is not a pawn. He is a mediator. He is the path. His way is the truth and the darkness! And you, you are his apostles. The Summoning VI: The Proceedings Intensify

however, while the Nameless Ghouls are expected to respect Papa's authority and follow his lead, they don't actually work for Papa– they work for the Clergy / Sister Imperator.

sometimes they're given tasks unrelated to / outside of the band.

i don't really consider Escape The Ministry canon (because a lot of it doesn't make sense), but i think it offers interesting insight into the lore. Escape The Ministry states:

The unnamed ghouls are sometimes tasked with mindless administrative tasks like taxes. These directives always come from The Clergy, however. Escape The Ministry - archived video; no longer available to play :(

as for other tasks unrelated to music, Sister Imperator ordered the Nameless Ghouls to kill Papas I, II, and III. the fact that the Ghouls actually did it shows that they are more loyal to Sister Imperator + the Clergy than they are to the Papas.

Chapter Three: Back on the Road

and i'm not surprised the Ghouls don't feel loyalty to the Papas, considering they don't interact with Papa much and are often mistreated by Papa when they do. Terzo was said to be pretty nice to the Ghouls, but never really interacted with them offstage. and Secondo notably cared so little about his Ghouls that he didn't recognize them offstage and sent attack dogs on them for his own amusement.

INTERVIEWER: How has it been working with the third Papa? How is he fitting into the group? NAMELESS GHOUL: We like him, actually. He seems to be quite nice. Obviously, we haven't really done our "miles" with him yet, so we don't know him that well. And he doesn't travel with us- he sort of goes separately everywhere, and he appears just before the show and then he just disappears. So we haven't really had the time to sort of fully get to know him. But overall, he seems quite a joyful chap. Metal Injection (September 2015)

What was the moment you realised you’d made it as a rockstar? “When Papa II actually recognised my presence as OK on our last ministry meeting. It was definitely a sign that I was starting to make it!” With great stardom often comes great ego. Have you ever uttered the words: “But don’t you know who I am?!” “I have actually – several times in fact, but Papa II is just as inconsiderate as Papa I, and will hush you and then ask you to leave the backstage area.” What’s the worst fight you have ever been in? “When Papa II ordered the dogs to be unleashed on me. This happened right after he gave me the feeling of having made it.” Metal Hammer (April 2013)

the Nameless Ghouls are not part of the Clergy and are not involved in the decision-making process for the church / band.

So how would you choose Papa III? Oh he's being chosen by the clergy. It's like having a President. There's a board that decides who will be the next guy and we just have to follow and hope for a better one next time. Phoenix New Times (October 23, 2013)

and their meetings / briefings are kept separate from Clergy meetings, as shown by the title cards in the 'The Summoning' lore videos.

THE CLERGY HAS ADJOURNED AND THE NAMELESS GHOULS ARE SUMMONED… The Summoning part 1 // The Summoning V: The Square And Hammer

(to be clear, the word "summoned" here means "called into the room to attend a meeting", not literally summoned from hell or something.)

the Clergy also assigns elements to the Ghouls. the Ghouls don't come pre-installed (for lack of better phrasing) with their elements.

INTERVIEWER: You have funny signs on your costumes and guitars. NAMELESS GHOUL: They represent the elements, with the addition of a 5th, like... the aether. Yes. INTERVIEWER: So actually, they are not funny. NAMELESS GHOUL: No, they're not there for fun. They have a meaning. That's not our entire meaning, but it has a symbolic meaning. INTERVIEWER: And everyone has a symbol. Why that? Did you choose it yourself? NAMELESS GHOUL: No, they were given to us. INTERVIEWER: By the Papa? NAMELESS GHOUL: By the Clergy. Berlin Metal TV (December 9, 2013)

sadly, though, Ghouls' elements only seemed to be relevant in Era 2 and Era 3, when the symbols were incorporated into the uniforms. Terzo stated in his 'If You Have Ghosts' talks that the elements were simply used to distinguish the Nameless Ghouls from one another, and he referred to them as Earth, Air / Wind, Water, Fire / Alpha, and Quintessence / Omega. but starting in Era 4 and going forward, the elemental symbols were no longer incorporated into the Ghouls' uniforms, and Cardinal Copia refers to all of them as just "Ghoul" or "Ghoulette".

also, there may be Nameless Ghouls that aren't part of the band at all.

in The Summoning, a strange hooded creature can be seen sweeping the floors. not sure if this thing is a Ghoul, but Sister Imperator describes it as a "haunted servitor."

SISTER IMPERATOR: Do you see this [UNINTELLIGIBLE], this haunted servitor of our Dark Father asking for nothing while it does its simple tasks? You see it and all think, "Our instruments are far greater than that old broom!" But they are not! They are merely tools to do His great work! The Summoning VII: Believe This

in addition, Sister Imperator is specifically addressing the band's Nameless Ghouls in this meeting, but many other people can be seen in attendance who are unmasked and wearing plain clothes. they sit behind the band Ghouls (who are wearing their uniforms) during the meeting, and they stand up and applaud at the end of Sister Imperator's speech. these people might just be congregants, but it's also possible these are other Ghouls who aren't members of the band. (i'm not sure why they'd be at a meeting where Sister Imperator is addressing the Nameless Ghouls if they're just regular people.)

The Summoning VII: Believe This

so to summarize:

the Nameless Ghouls are humans.

they were killed and transformed into undead servants in a ritual sacrifice.

they work for The Clergy, not for Papa.

they're considered to be apostles and missionaries.

they sometimes have other jobs unrelated to the band.

their elements are assigned to them by The Clergy (but they're not really relevant anymore)

there might be a lot more Nameless Ghouls other than those in the band.

[rediimere]

The leaked “AI Aloy” footage from Sony has left such a bitter taste in my mouth that, hours later, I’m still fuming and have even more words to say about the overall sinister nature of its implications.

Let's talk about it.

I want to start by saying that there is a difference between what is colloquially called "AI" as a tool for artists and developers in which their software uses their own sources to streamline the process (for example, the "Content Aware" fill tool that has been present in Photoshop for at least a decade), and "generative AI/genAI" that relies on unauthorised theft of resources to artificially splice data together based on prompts. I have no qualms with the former as it relies on being fed its own sources and is an aid for specific purposes. It is not artificial intelligence, but a tool. GenAI, on the other hand, is immoral, unethical, planet-destroying garbage.

The latter is what is being pushed in that egregious video footage. It is the epitome of tone-deaf, soulless, capitalistic wet dream, dangerously misogynistic slop and I am not exaggerating. And I think it's also the culmination of years of fandom culture being integrated by people who have never interacted in fandom, never bothered to learn the etiquette of a space that existed long before they joined, demanded changes for their comfort, and see it as another commodity.

I'm not the first to say this and others before me have been far smarter about it, but there has been a marked change in fandom culture the past few years. Many have said it goes back to COVID, when people generally not involved in fandom spaces joined because they had nothing else to do.

The thing about fandom is that for pretty much as long as it's existed, it has been a safe space for marginalised voices. It's no coincidence that the transformative works of fandom—fiction, art, meta, etc.—have been places for queer voices, for women, for people of colour, for the trans and nonbinary community, etc. With more people joining, these safe spaces have become less so. There are demands for people to "stop shipping" characters that aren't a canon, established ship. There are personal and threatening attacks on people who have a different viewpoint on a character or plot. People have been stalked. People have been doxxed. This isn't necessary new, but is happening with increased frequency and ferocity, especially by younger members and the terfy crowd. The safe space fandom provided marginalised voices really seems to be shrinking.

Outside of fandom culture itself, there is a rising trend of needing instant gratification, of sacrificing unique protagonists for the sake of "relatability" and "self-inserts." There are readers who ignore descriptions of female protagonists and male love interests in romance books so that they can self-insert (and others are calling for authors to stop describing entirely). There are booktok-ers who, believe it or not, complain about the amount of words on a page. I'm not saying their opinions are wrong in general—there is a market for what they seek—but their reviews are to encourage these stipulations to become the norm. And these influencers get enough engagement that their views are seen as profitable by the corporations and execs in charge.

So it isn't really surprising that now fandom is being seen as something that corporation can milk for all its capitalistic worth. Why wouldn't corporations invade a space they've ignored for years as inconsequential now that it's mainstream? After all, fandom was just full of the "weirdos" before, and now it's full of "normies!" This is a space that has been established for decades, built from the ground up by people who value the source material(s), now full of anyone and everyone who will soak up one morsel of customized instant gratification for the dopamine hit.

And that's where genAI comes in.

Why is this so sinister in regards to Sony's recent leaked footage using AI Aloy interacting with a user?

First off: It's Aloy.

Look, if you've perused my social media or interacted with me online at all, you know I love Horizon. My computer room is full of fan-made merch. I've written almost a million words of fanfiction in three years. I've drawn fanart. I helped construct a fanmade dating sim. Horizon has been a huge part of my life for the past three years.

I'm not ignorant of its flaws. I'm also aware of the fact that Horizon is often hated as an IP, and Aloy is the target of a lot of rage from certain audiences. Not to generalise, but let's be clear: the complaints are largely about Horizon being "woke DEI garbage" (you know, for having a queer female protagonist, for featuring other women and queer characters in prominent roles, for having people of colour be important in the story, for being anti-capitalist and pro-environmentalism, etc.—the same tired, ignorant arguments we've all heard), and about Aloy being "fat" and "looking like a man" (hopefully they stretch before that reach so they don't pull something).

So why would Sony use Aloy to showcase an AI conversation instead of someone like Kratos or Joel, who come from more popular and acclaimed IPs?

One possibility is Sony trying to sink Horizon or Guerrilla Games as a company, spurring so much backlash from the leak that the franchise is doomed and dropped so Guerrilla either goes under or focuses on old IPs like Killzone.

Or the more disgusting possibility is that something like genAI is made for the people who loudly and proudly proclaim how "anti-woke" they are, who have detested Horizon and Aloy from the beginning, and now they have a way to "like" Aloy. They have a way to make her say or do or react to whatever kinds of depravity they want to throw at her. They have a way to control and manipulate a fictional woman to fulfill their own incel agenda.

On top of that—Horizon? The video game about how a defective AI made by a trillionaire wiped out humanity? The sequel that revealed another rogue AI made by thousand-year-old billionaires is set to wipe out Earth again? That Horizon franchise is what Sony is using to showcase AI slop? Let's not even go into how the character responses are literally so painfully out of character they can't be taken seriously at all. The irony is so heavy-handed it's almost crushing.

The other reprehensible part of this is the fact that video game actors are still on strike, and this strike is to protect themselves from being replaced by AI. This test footage did sound like a messed up Siri, but Ashly Burch (Aloy's actress) has been in support of the strike. The insult of using her character to showcase this slop is beyond words.

All I will say in conclusion is that I genuinely hope this is not endorsed, supported, or aided by Guerrilla Games. If this plays any part in Horizon 3 or any future part of the franchise, I speak for myself but can confidently say I am out.

In conclusion please do not support any genAI slop, especially in fandom spaces. Make them know it is not wanted, not needed, and is in fact detested and will lose them money in the end.

On that happy note I'm off to bed.

[currently-exsisting]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Alchemy and Anarchy . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

(Jinx x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: So we all know Jinx is a genius. Even without school she is able to engineer such high tech things. Making her own bombs, fixing broken things, creating a mechanical arm for Sevika, etc etc. Well what if she runs into the reader who is an alchemist from Piltover who has come to Zaun to get some illegal ingredients for her experiments. But their first encounter isn’t a particularly pleasant one… nor is their second or even third. One day Jinx realizes she hasn’t seen the reader in a while and is bored- definitely not missing the banter she would have with reader- so Jinx sneaks up to topside only to find reader isn’t home- or anywhere for that matter.

Warnings: minor talk of sedatives, explosion, mentions of deadly material (bombs, potions, poisonous plants, etc). lmk if there's anything I missed!

Note: This is my first Jinx fic so please be nice! The reader identifies as a female and she/her pronouns will be used. Also, this is part 1 of a multipart series (I’m thinking between 3-5 parts but we’ll see how it goes). 

Word count: 1.6K

You were absolutely exhausted by the mundane, lackluster lectures of the Piltover Academy’s alchemical department. The professors had a knack for making you study for hours just to grasp the most basic concepts in the most roundabout way. On top of that, your time in the actual lab was painfully sparse. When you finally got lab access—once every two weeks—the experiments were excruciatingly slow and yielded results so obvious that they felt like an insult to your intelligence. Sitting through those endless three-hour lectures, you often questioned why you had chosen this field in the first place.

That frustration was the catalyst for your decision to take matters into your own hands. You found an abandoned classroom and transformed it into your personal lab, a space where you could tinker with your own concoctions, free from the constant scrutiny and prying eyes of the professors. This turned out to be one of the best decisions you’d made since coming to the academy. Your independent research allowed you to take scientific liberties that were otherwise forbidden. At first, you limited yourself to ransacking the chemical cabinets in the student labs, careful not to disturb the order of the vials or take more than you could conceal. But even the academy’s supplies soon proved too rudimentary for the ambitious experiments you wanted to pursue.

Potions that erupted into bursts of flame with just a pinch of powder, sedatives potent enough to render a person unconscious within seconds, and vials of liquid smoke that blanketed entire rooms in seconds—these were the kinds of alchemical creations you aspired to make. But the university wasn’t equipped to support your level of innovation. So, you made the decision to venture into the Undercity.

Every student at Piltover Academy had heard the cautionary tale of Jayce Talis. The former student had sourced materials for his experiments from the Undercity and paid the price—expelled for his illegal activities, despite his so-called “good” intentions. His story was the kind parents used to scare their children into obedience. But you weren’t Jayce. You had no intention of getting caught.

You packed your bags and threw on some ragged, worn-down clothes in hopes of not standing out in the undercity. As you stepped off the lift and into Zaun, however, you realized how naive you had been. To be a Zaunite wasn’t the clothes or the avoidance of eye contact- the undercity had imprinted itself on the very souls of its citizens. It was evident in how they held themselves, always with an air of caution and skepticism, everyone around you had been living in the closest place to hell and it was damn clear to see that there was no way you were fitting in.

Yet, you still attempted to, just wanting to get your business finished and head back to your lab. You were itching to complete this potion meant to cause temporary blindness to those who breathed in its fumes. The final chemical you needed was sold in a small shop at the back end of an ally in Zaun. How did you hear of this secret location? Let’s just say some professors, frustrated by the academy's limited chemical stock, had been less discreet in their private grumblings—and you knew how to listen. 

Keeping your head low and your heart pounding like a drum, you navigated the narrow, dimly lit alleyways until you reached the shop. By some miracle, you managed to purchase the outrageously overpriced chemical without incident. Relieved, you thought the hardest part was over. Now, all you had to do was retrace your steps to the lift and head back home. It seemed simple enough. The shopkeeper had been stingy, but the Undercity itself wasn’t as terrifying as you’d imagined. Less than ideal, sure, but manageable. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all.

Lost in your thoughts, your mind wandered to the experiments waiting for you back at your lab. You were so preoccupied that you didn’t notice where you were going. Without realizing it, you walked straight into something very sturdy. 

Looking up, you saw the figure turn around, long blue braids swaying as her sharp pink eyes locked onto yours. “Hey! Watch where you’re going, asshat!” she snapped, her voice brimming with annoyance. Clearly, she’d had enough, and you were just the unfortunate straw that broke the camel’s back.

You attempt stuttering out an apology, but you too were caught off guard by the interaction, “oh- uh sorry- my bad.” You keep your head down and try to maneuver your way around her. But she was faster, sidestepping to block your path.

“Well, well, well you’re not from around here are you?” she said, her tone laced with suspicion. Shit. She found you out. Was it that obvious? She leaned forward slightly, arms tucked behind her back as she assessed you. “Soooo… whatcha doing here?”

Realizing there was no way out of this, you decided to meet her gaze. “Nothing much, just on an errand for, uh… deadly ingredients.” You said this with such a deadpan expression that the blue-haired girl took a moment to process what you said and then laughed. She laughed in your face. You were so over this city. The disgusting streets, the terrifying atmosphere, and now the crazy people. You shook your head and tried to go on your way back to Piltover, back to your cozy lab- to finally continue your experiments. Shaking your head, you tried to sidestep her again. “Whatever. I’ve got stuff to do,” you muttered, heading for the lift.

“Well shit toots, you won’t find anything deadly in some plants and dirt,” she called after you. 

“If you want deadly, I’ll show you deadly.” You stop at her words but by the time you’re halfway turned back around to face her, she had pulled out one of her bombs and disengaged it. She nonchalantly tosses the bomb off to her right. The explosion sent a rush of heat and wind that caused her long blue braids to whip dramatically in the air.

“Oh my gods, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?” Your eyes were wide open in shock and you clutched your bags with your ingredients close to your chest. 

She shrugged, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. “Relax. If I wanted to get you killed, you’d already be dead.”

You stared at her, dumbfounded. This girl was completely insane. “You call that deadly?” you said, exasperated. “That’s just… chaotic and uncontrolled! Chemicals can be deadly and precise. You can get them to do different things—different kinds of deadly.”

Her smirk turned into a pout, her entire posture slumping as she groaned. “Ugh, that’s so boringggg. Deadly is deadly, there’s nothing faster or funner than bombs.”

“First of all,  “funner” is not a word.” She rolled her eyes at your correction, but you couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. The absurdity of arguing with someone so casually dangerous was almost entertaining, and you found yourself wondering if she always defended her bombs with such childlike stubbornness. “Secondly, potions are much more controllable, can you sedate someone with your bombs? I don’t think so.” you put your hand on your hips and gazed at her in a judgmental manner. She could insult you all she wanted but she wasn’t going to say anything bad about your life’s work.

She raised an eyebrow, her pink eyes gleaming with mischief.  “Why would you bother with “sedating” when you can just knock ‘em out cold with one of these?” She patted the satchel slung over her shoulder, the sound of clinking metal confirming it was loaded with explosives.

You roll your eyes. “Right, because bludgeoning someone with a bomb is so subtle. If you need to get out of a situation quietly, my potions are better. Or, do you enjoy being loud and drawing attention to yourself all the time?”

“Yeah, well duh. Subtle is boring. Loud is exciting! All those plants and concoctions, it’s all boring nerd shit.” Her blue braids swayed to one side as she tilted her head, to edge you one. She looked almost like a puppy. Almost-puppies aren’t as bothersome or volatile as this Zaunite was.

You noticed your shadow growing longer as the sun began to set and decided that your argument should be saved for another day on account of your safety. If the undercity was this hectic during the day, you didn’t want to stay around and discover what the nightlife entailed. “One day I’ll show you how awesome this “nerd shit” really is.” 

The blue-haired girl smirked at your words, clearly not taking you seriously. “Pfft. Sure, nerd. Maybe one day you’ll grow a spine and ditch those snooze-fest potions for something with a bang.”

You sighed, already regretting engaging her this much. The faint flicker of street lights turning on further contorted the shadows, the chaotic streets taking on an even more ominous feel.

“Yeah, well, I’m not sticking around here to debate with someone who thinks explosions solve everything.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, carefully avoiding her gaze. “Enjoy your bombs, loudmouth.”

She scoffed, leaning against the wall with a smug expression. “Enjoy your boring potions, nerd. Do yourself a favor and try not to spill anything and melt your face off.”

Without another word, you turned and walked away, forcing yourself to focus on retracing your steps. The weight of her gaze lingered on your back, but you didn’t look back. There was no way you’d let her see how much she’d gotten under your skin.

[grimxark]

my main criticism about a lot of takes on prowl is that a lot of these people have NOT read the entirety of IDW and it shows. And it especially shows when people get into Prowl as a character through shipping with JazzProwl because Jazzprowl fics and media are very choosy when it comes to taking from their IDW characterizations. I cannot stress ENOUGH how wildly different they are in the IDW source material from fan content, and how the Jazzprowl dynamic originated from G1- not because they had an interesting storyline or cool interactions, but because people liked the laid-back officer x uptight cop trope. People don't take from G1 as often as they do now, but there's a million AUs about this exact dynamic. I won't get too into the extremely racist undertones in a lot of Jazzprowl fan media but it is *unbelievably* present especially when people like to start Jazz off as an 'untrustworthy' character that Prowl arrests/gets into a fight with/has to 'chase down'. Transformers in general is. really bad on the racism front lmao. I've found that though a lot of people genuinely do understand Prowl’s themes(!), their actual takeaways are very superficial. In content where Prowl is of some central focus people like to paint him with more sympathetic qualities, which can work well! To a point! But at some point- especially when Prowl starts getting written as an antihero, misunderstood and hated for shallow reasons- the responsibility he has to take for his actions gets very very diluted. And Prowl's themes are huge on responsibility.

They're also huge on his near-authoritarian use of power, tendency to endanger innocent people, what have you. People reeeally need to understand that Prowl isn't originally written to be likeable, he's written as a plain bureaucratic asshole in a highly political story. He's also a cop car. It isn't a coincidence one of the biggest Autobot symbols for corruption in IDW is a cop car. By shifting the motive of his actions to be overly sympathetic by saying he's just doing what he thinks is right and he's saving others by abandoning his moral code not only are you failing to write a good criticism on political power (and what it can do to an individual!) in general, but you miss a fundamental part of Prowl and what is, most likely, what made him appealing to you in the first place. sorry. this got out of hand. I think I was going to write a bit criticism about how people take ships and sacrifice what made a character's themes good for angst content that just reads as an original story that could be made with any other character from the media. I lost the thread. you know what sure just make jazzprowl forever. you don't have to engage with these characters in any meaningful way and create a brand new Villainous Initially-Untrustworthy Jazz and ignore the very obvious criticism of police that is prowl. who gaf

[pxnsneverland]

Riding With Devils | biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 3)

(gif source: shadowhaert)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

plot summary: Sophie Ann Sutton appears to have the perfect life as a high school senior in a small town. With straight A's, a thriving social life, and a scholarship to her dream college, she feels invincible—especially with her loyal best friend by her side. But everything changes when she crosses paths with Austin, the dangerously charming son of the local biker gang's leader. Their worlds collide in an electrifying romance that defies all expectations, pulling Sophie into a whirlwind of rebellion, excitement and danger.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 3958

warnings/notes:

Chapter 3: The Girl on the Trellis

For the next forty minutes, they worked through Miguel's assignments, finding an unexpected rhythm. Sophie provided context and analysis, while Austin translated academic concepts into real-world applications that resonated with Miguel. Despite her initial reservations, Sophie found herself impressed by Austin's intuitive understanding of literature and history, even if his interpretations lacked formal structure. When Mrs. Ramirez announced the end of the session, Miguel closed his textbook with obvious reluctance.

"This was... not as bad as I expected," he admitted. "Same time Friday?"

"We'll be here," Sophie confirmed, gathering her notes.

Miguel stood, shouldering his backpack. "Cool. I should get back to practice before Coach sends a search party." He hesitated, glancing at Austin. "Thanks for the Peterson tips."

Austin nodded. "Just telling it like it is."

After Miguel left, Sophie busied herself organizing her materials, acutely aware of Austin watching her.

"You're good at this," he said finally. "The teaching part."

Sophie looked up, surprised by the genuine compliment. "Thanks. You weren't terrible yourself."

Austin laughed—a real laugh that transformed his face, softening the hard edges. "High praise from the future valedictorian."

"I never said I was—"

"You didn't have to." He leaned forward, close enough that Sophie could smell leather and motor oil clinging to his skin despite the clean t-shirt. "It's written all over you."

Sophie found herself unable to look away from his intense blue eyes. "You make it sound like an insult."

"Not an insult. An observation." Austin's voice dropped lower. "You're exactly who everyone expects you to be. At least during daylight hours."

The memory of wind in her hair and his solid warmth beneath her hands flashed through Sophie's mind. She swallowed hard. "What happened at Mel's was a one-time lapse in judgment."

"Was it?" Austin's gaze was knowing. "Because the girl who climbed down that trellis didn't seem like someone having a lapse. She seemed like someone finally waking up."

Sophie gathered her books with trembling hands. "I should go. Student council."

"Right. Wouldn't want to keep Jimmy-boy waiting." Austin stood, towering over her. "For what it's worth, I think he was lying about the emergency meeting."

"Why would he lie?"

"Because he saw you sitting with me." Austin's smile held no humor. "Some guys can't handle losing what they never had."

Sophie shouldered her bag, trying to regain her composure. "This mentorship is strictly professional. Whatever you think happened between us—"

"I don't think, Princess. I know." Austin stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I felt your heart racing when we took that corner on Henderson Road. You held on tighter than necessary."

Heat rushed to Sophie's face. "That was fear."

"Was it?" His eyes challenged her. "Funny thing about fear and excitement—they feel almost the same in the dark."

Before Sophie could formulate a response, the library doors opened again. Principal Winters entered, his expression tightening at the sight of them standing so close together.

"Miss Sutton," he called, his voice carrying across the now-empty library. "The student council is waiting for you in room 103."

Sophie stepped back from Austin, grateful for the interruption. "Yes, Mr. Winters. I was just leaving."

Austin watched her retreat, that knowing half-smile playing on his lips. As she reached the door, he called after her, just loud enough for her to hear. "See you Friday, Princess."

Sophie didn't look back, but she felt his eyes on her all the way down the hall.

***

Austin waited until Sophie disappeared before turning to Principal Winters, dropping the amused facade.

"You want to tell me the real reason I'm here?" he asked bluntly. "Because we both know it's not my mentoring skills."

Winters removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Your father made certain... arrangements with the school board. I'm simply following directives."

"What kind of arrangements?"

"The kind that keep our funding intact." Winters replaced his glasses, his expression hardening.

"So I'm here to fulfill some deal my father made," Austin clarified, his voice dropping to ensure the remaining mentors couldn't hear. "And Miguel Hernandez just happens to be my assigned student."

Winters shifted uncomfortably. "These arrangements are above my pay grade, Mr. Butler. I was told to pair you with Mr. Hernandez and Miss Sutton. That's all I know."

Austin studied the principal's face, noting the beads of sweat forming at his hairline despite the library's cool temperature. Winters was lying. Maybe not about the arrangement itself, but about his knowledge of its purpose. Austin had grown up reading people's tells enough to know.

"And Sophie?" Austin pressed. "Why pair me with the student council president? Seems like an odd choice."

"Miss Sutton is our most capable student mentor. The board felt Mr. Hernandez would benefit from..." Winters trailed off, struggling to find the right words.

"A balanced approach?" Austin suggested, his tone making it clear he wasn't buying it.

"Precisely." Winters glanced at his watch with obvious relief. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a faculty meeting to attend."

Austin watched him hurry away, piecing together the implications. His father hadn't just arranged for Austin to mentor Miguel—he'd specifically engineered the trio, ensuring Sophie was part of the equation. But why? What possible value could Sophie Sutton have in the power play between the Devil's Mark and Ricardo Hernandez? Unless his father knew about Tuesday night. The thought sent a chill down Austin's spine. Frank Butler had eyes everywhere in Millfield. If he'd discovered Austin giving Sophie a ride home, he might have misinterpreted the encounter—seen it as leverage, a potential weakness to exploit. Austin clenched his jaw, cursing himself for his carelessness. He'd drawn Sophie into a dangerous game simply by noticing her, by allowing himself that brief moment of connection with someone outside his world.

As he left the library, Austin's mind raced through contingency plans. He needed to maintain his assignment, gather the intelligence his father wanted, while somehow keeping Sophie clear of the inevitable fallout. An impossible task, given that they'd be sharing a table three times a week. The hallway outside the library was empty except for a solitary figure leaning against the wall—Ray, wearing his leather jacket despite the school's obvious discomfort with the Devil's Mark insignia.

"How'd it go, teach?" Ray asked, pushing off the wall with a smirk.

Austin shot him a warning look. "What are you doing here?"

"Your old man wanted a report." Ray fell into step beside him as they headed toward the exit. "Wanted to make sure you were taking the assignment seriously."

"Tell him I'm following orders," Austin replied coldly. "Miguel Hernandez is exactly where he's supposed to be."

"And the girl?" Ray's tone was deliberately casual. "Your trellis-climbing princess? That a coincidence or part of your old man's master plan?"

Austin stopped walking, grabbing Ray's arm and pulling him into an empty classroom. He shut the door behind them. "Listen carefully," Austin said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Sophie Sutton is off-limits. She's not part of this."

Ray raised his eyebrows. "Seems like your dad thinks differently. Why else pair you two together?"

"I don't know yet," Austin admitted, running a hand through his hair. "But whatever game he's playing, I'm not dragging her into it."

"Since when do you care about collateral damage?" Ray studied him with growing concern. "One motorcycle ride and suddenly you're her knight in leather armor?"

Austin turned away, staring out the classroom window at the football field where practice was in full swing. Miguel Hernandez was running drills, his movements precise and powerful.

"She's different," Austin finally said. "She doesn't belong in our world."

"No shit," Ray snorted. "That's probably why your old man's interested. Clean record, perfect family, connections to half the town through that student council gig. She'd make excellent leverage."

The thought made Austin's stomach turn. He'd seen how his father operated, using people's weaknesses against them until there was nothing left but broken loyalty or fear.

"Just tell him I'm handling Miguel," Austin said. "The girl is irrelevant."

Ray's expression turned serious. "You know it doesn't work that way. If Frank Butler wants information on both, that's what he expects to get."

"Then make something up," Austin snapped. "Tell him she's boring. Predictable. Not worth his time."

"Except she isn't," Ray pointed out. "Not if she's got you this worked up." He sighed, lowering his voice. "Look, I'll buy you some time, but you need to figure this out fast. Your dad's not the only one watching. Hernandez has people everywhere too."

Austin nodded, the weight of his position settling heavily on his shoulders. "I know."

"Friday, then?" Ray asked, moving toward the door.

"Yeah. I'll have something by Friday."

After Ray left, Austin remained in the empty classroom, watching as Miguel finished his drills. Sophie was caught between two worlds, whether she realized it or not. The thought of her green eyes clouding with fear when she discovered the truth made something twist painfully in Austin's chest. He'd spent his life accepting the inevitability of his path, the legacy of the Devil's Mark that ran in his blood. But for the first time, he found himself wishing he hadn’t.

***

Sophie arrived at Room 103 to find the student council already deep in discussion. Caroline Peters, the vice president, looked up with obvious relief. "Finally! We've been waiting forever."

Sophie slid into her usual seat at the head of the table, still unsettled from her encounter with Austin. "Sorry. Mentorship program ran long."

"So we heard," Caroline replied, her tone suggesting she'd heard more than just that. "Jimmy said you were paired with Austin Butler? Is that true?"

Every eye at the table turned to Sophie. Expressions ranged from curiosity to concern. The Devil's Mark wasn't just another motorcycle club—they were Millfield's boogeyman, the shadow that loomed over the respectable people of the small town.

"It's not a big deal," Sophie said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Principal Winters paired us with Miguel Hernandez—the new football transfer. It's just a school program."

"Just a school program?" Jimmy scoffed from the far end of the table. "Butler's not here for community service, Sophie. Everyone knows his family runs half the illegal operations in the county."

"That's just rumor," Sophie countered, though she knew it wasn't. "And regardless, the school approved him as a mentor."

Caroline leaned forward, lowering her voice. "My dad says the Devil's Mark has been moving in on new territory lately. There's talk of a turf war with the Southside crew."

"What does that have to do with school?" Sophie asked, irritation creeping into her voice.

"Miguel Hernandez is Ricardo Hernandez's nephew," Jimmy said, as if explaining something obvious. "Hernandez runs the Southside crew. Butler's father leads the Devil's Mark." He stared at Sophie intently. "You're being used as cover for whatever game they're playing."

Sophie felt a chill run through her. Austin's focused questions about Miguel's neighborhood suddenly took on new meaning. The tension between the boys, the careful assessment. It hadn't been about academic mentoring at all. "That's ridiculous," she said, more to convince herself than anyone else. "This is a school program. We're helping Miguel with his grades."

"Wake up, Sophie," Jimmy pressed. "Why would Austin Butler, who dropped out senior year, suddenly care about tutoring?"

"He didn't drop out," Sophie found herself saying. "He graduated. He was in Mr. Peterson's history class."

Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"

Sophie realized her mistake too late. "He... mentioned it during the session." An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Sophie could feel their judgment, their curiosity. Perfect Sophie Sutton, suddenly defending Austin Butler's academic record.

"Look," Caroline said finally, "maybe we should focus on the actual meeting agenda. The spring dance budget needs approval.”

"Right," Sophie said gratefully, seizing the opportunity to change subjects. "The budget."

For the next hour, she threw herself into student council business with laser-like focus. The spring dance theme was debated (Garden Gala won over Midnight in Paris), the refreshment budget allocated, and committee assignments distributed. Sophie maintained her usual efficiency, but her mind kept drifting back to Austin's words in the library. "The girl who climbed down that trellis didn't seem like someone having a lapse. She seemed like someone finally waking up." Was he right? Had Tuesday night been her true self emerging, not some temporary insanity? And if Jimmy's suspicions were correct—if this mentorship was a cover for something darker—what did that make her? An unwitting pawn or a willing participant?

"Earth to Sophie," Caroline waved a hand in front of her face. "Meeting's over. You okay?"

Sophie blinked, realizing the room had emptied except for Caroline and herself. "Sorry. Just tired."

"This doesn't have anything to do with Austin Butler, does it?" Caroline asked, her voice dropping to a concerned whisper. "Because Jimmy's been telling everyone some pretty wild stories about Tuesday night."

Sophie's stomach clenched. "What kind of stories?"

"That you snuck out to meet him at Mel's. That you left with Butler on his motorcycle." Caroline's expression was more worried than judgmental. "I told everyone it was ridiculous, of course. You'd never do something that reckless."

The irony wasn't lost on Sophie. Even her closest friends couldn't imagine her breaking the rules. "Jimmy's exaggerating," she said carefully. "I did go to Mel's with him and Maggie, but only for milkshakes. Jimmy got... inappropriate, and we found another ride home."

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a complete lie either.

Caroline seemed relieved. "That makes more sense. For a minute I thought—" She stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind. It was silly."

"What?" Sophie pressed.

"Just... you've seemed different today. Distracted." Caroline gathered her books. "But I'm sure it's just stress from all your commitments. Try to get some rest, okay?"

After Caroline left, Sophie remained at the table, staring at her student council notes without really seeing them. Different. Austin had used that word too. Real. As if the Sophie everyone knew was somehow less authentic than the girl who'd clung to a stranger on a motorcycle in the middle of the night.

***

Austin cut across the abandoned train yard, his motorcycle's headlight slicing through the gathering dusk. The Devil's Mark clubhouse loomed ahead, its windows glowing amber against the darkening sky. He'd taken the long way back, needing time to process the afternoon's revelations. Inside, the main room buzzed with activity. Men in leather jackets played pool, cleaned weapons, or nursed beers while discussing business in low voices. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, stinging Austin's eyes as he made his way toward the back office.

"There he is," Frank Butler announced as Austin entered. "Our academic ambassador."

Three of his father's lieutenants laughed, but Austin noticed they watched him carefully, gauging his reaction. "The program's set up like you wanted," Austin reported, keeping his voice neutral. "Miguel Hernandez, three afternoons a week."

Frank leaned back in his leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "And the girl? Sutton, was it?"

Austin's jaw tightened imperceptibly. "What about her?"

"Just curious why Winters paired you with the student council president." Frank's eyes narrowed slightly. "Seems like an odd choice."

"Principal said she's their top student," Austin replied with practiced casualness. "Probably thinks she'll keep me in line."

One of the lieutenants—Jackson, a heavyset man with a scar running down his cheek—snorted. "Good luck with that."

Frank studied his son's face, searching for something Austin was determined not to reveal. "This Sutton girl. She connected to the judge?"

Austin's blood ran cold. Judge William Sutton presided over most of the criminal cases in the county. He'd sent three Devil's Mark members to prison last year alone.

"I don't know," Austin lied smoothly. "Didn't come up."

Frank's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Find out. Could be useful."

"Sure," Austin agreed, knowing refusal wasn't an option. "Anything else?"

"Just remember why you're there," Frank said, his voice hardening. "Hernandez is moving product through the high school. We need to know his distribution network, his suppliers, and most importantly, who's protecting him on the force."

Austin nodded, already calculating how to get the information without drawing Miguel into a war he couldn't survive. "I'll handle it."

"I know you will, son." Frank's expression softened slightly—the closest he ever came to displaying affection. "You've never let me down before."

The weight of those words pressed on Austin's chest like a stone. His entire life had been shaped by his father's expectations, by the legacy of the Devil's Mark that stretched back three generations. Every decision, every action measured against the code of loyalty Frank had drilled into him since childhood.

"Meeting's over," Frank announced to the room.

As the lieutenants filed out, Frank gestured for Austin to stay. "One more thing," he said once they were alone. "Ray mentioned you seemed... protective of the Sutton girl."

Austin kept his expression carefully neutral. "Just playing my role. School would get suspicious if I didn't treat the mentors with respect."

"Respect is one thing. Interest is another." Frank rose from his chair, moving to the window that overlooked the quarry. "I taught you better than that, son. Attachments are weaknesses our enemies exploit."

"There's no attachment," Austin insisted, the lie bitter on his tongue. "She's just part of the cover."

Frank turned, his eyes cold and calculating. "Good. Because Judge Sutton's daughter could be valuable leverage in ways you don't yet understand." He paused, letting the implication settle between them. "Don't forget whose son you are."

"I never do," Austin replied, the words practiced and hollow.

Outside, the night air offered little relief from the suffocating tension of the clubhouse. Austin swung his leg over his motorcycle, the familiar machine the only constant in his increasingly complicated existence. The engine roared to life beneath him, vibrating through his body like a second heartbeat. He rode without destination, following the winding back roads that traced the outskirts of Millfield. The town lights glimmered in the distance, a constellation of order and respectability that had never included him. His mind drifted to Sophie—to the way she'd looked in the library, her careful composure betrayed by the flush in her cheeks whenever their eyes met. She was everything he wasn't supposed to want: structured, privileged, untouched by the darkness that defined his world.

And now she was unknowingly entangled in a power struggle that could destroy everything she knew.

Austin pulled over at the ridge overlooking town, cutting the engine. The silence pressed in around him, broken only by the distant sounds of night creatures. Below, the neat grid of Millfield streets led inevitably to the manicured neighborhood where Sophie slept, safely tucked behind white columns and pristine lawns, unaware of the forces converging around her.

For the first time in his life, Austin Butler questioned the path laid out before him.

***

Thursday morning dawned with merciless brightness, sunlight streaming through Sophie's curtains to illuminate her sleepless form. She'd spent the night replaying the mentoring session, analyzing every word, every look exchanged between Austin and Miguel. If Jimmy was right, what did that make her? An unwitting accomplice? A pawn?

"Sophie!" her mother called from downstairs. "Breakfast!"

Sophie dragged herself from bed, mechanically going through her morning routine. Shower, hair, makeup, clothes. But as she applied her lipstick (Blush Pink, never Red), she found herself studying her reflection with new eyes. Who was she, really? The reflection offered no answers, just the familiar mask of Sophie Sutton.

Downstairs, her parents were already seated at the breakfast table, her father hidden behind his newspaper as usual.

"There you are," her mother said, sliding a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "I was beginning to worry you'd overslept."

"Sorry," Sophie murmured, picking up her fork without appetite. "I was finishing an assignment."

Her father lowered his newspaper slightly. "You look tired, sweetheart. Not pushing yourself too hard, are you?"

Before Sophie could answer, her mother interjected. "Of course she is. That's our Sophie. Always striving for excellence." She patted Sophie's shoulder with maternal pride. "Oh, I almost forgot. Judge Williams called last night. He wants you to babysit on Saturday. His daughter simply adores you."

Sophie nodded automatically. "That's fine."

"And Mrs. Peterson mentioned the debate team needs extra practice before regionals. She suggested you might organize a weekend session."

"I'll take care of it," Sophie replied, the words coming out automatically.

Her father folded his newspaper, revealing a serious expression. "Speaking of taking care of things, I heard something concerning yesterday." He set down his coffee cup with deliberate precision. "Bill Henderson mentioned seeing you at the library with Austin Butler. Is that true?"

Sophie's fork clattered against her plate. "It's a school program. Principal Winters assigned us as co-mentors."

"Austin Butler?" Her mother's hand flew to her pearl necklace. "Isn't he—"

"Frank Butler's son," her father confirmed grimly. "Leader of that motorcycle gang that's been causing trouble across the county."

"It's just a mentorship program," Sophie repeated, her voice steadier than she felt. "We're helping a transfer student adjust to Millfield's academic standards."

Her father's expression hardened. "I don't care what Winters is calling it. The Butlers are dangerous, Sophie. Frank Butler has been in my courtroom more times than I can count. That family operates outside the law."

"Austin isn't his father," Sophie heard herself saying, then immediately regretted it as her parents exchanged alarmed glances.

"You don't know these people, Sophie," her father said, his tone softening to one he might use when explaining a difficult concept to a child. "They appear charming, even reasonable, but underneath they're calculating predators. I want you to request a different co-mentor today."

Sophie stared at her plate, conflicting emotions churning in her stomach. Part of her wanted to agree immediately. But another part rebelled against her father's certainty.

"I can't," Sophie said, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice. "Principal Winters specifically selected us for Miguel. Backing out would look irresponsible."

Her father set his coffee cup down with a sharp click. "Sophie Ann, this isn't about appearances. This is about your safety."

"I'm perfectly safe at school," Sophie countered. "We meet in the library with supervision. It's three afternoons a week for a month."

"William," her mother interjected, placing a calming hand on her husband's arm. "Perhaps we should speak with Principal Winters directly. I'm sure he didn't realize—"

"He knew exactly what he was doing," her father cut in. "The school board's been pressured to implement these 'community outreach' programs. It's all politics."

Sophie pushed her eggs around her plate. "Dad, I'm seventeen. I can handle myself in a supervised school program."

"This isn't about your capabilities," her father said, his voice softening slightly. "It's about the company you're keeping. People like Austin Butler don't change, Sophie. They're born into that life, raised in it. Whatever he's doing at Millfield, it isn't about helping students."

The certainty in her father's voice made Sophie pause. Hadn't she thought the same thing yesterday? Hadn't Jimmy's warnings raised the same red flags?

"I'll be careful," she promised, a compromise. "If I notice anything suspicious, I'll tell Principal Winters immediately."

Her father studied her face, clearly dissatisfied but recognizing the stubborn set of her jaw—an expression he often wore himself. "One week," he conceded finally. "Then we reevaluate."

"Thank you," Sophie said, relief washing through her.

"And Sophie?" Her father's eyes were serious. "No contact with that boy outside of the official program. I mean it."

The memory of Austin's solid warmth beneath her hands, the exhilaration of the motorcycle ride, flashed through Sophie's mind. "Of course not," she agreed, the lie bitter on her tongue.

Stay tuned for part 4!! Click HERE to view!

[scaredofstyrofoam]

Thinking about watching transformers… where do I start? (Love your art btw)

HIIII!!! OMG I CAN HELPPPP!!!

As far as Transformers go, the best one to start with for newcomers is actually the newest animated movie, Transformers One (found on Amazon, I think). It's an origin story movie and will get newcomers used to the decades' worth of lore this franchise has, haha.

TV shows you might wanna watch are:

Transformers Prime: (better for teens. Good for lore. One of the most highly praised in fandom. I think it's on Netflix, but pro tip: MOST of these shows can be found for FREE on Tubi)

Transformers Animated: (This show is an interesting concept. It deviates from the regular plot, but I quite enjoy it. Blitzwing is the best part of this show, haha. For younger audiences, but I loved it still, I wish it wasnt cancelled.)

Transformers G1: (The OG 80s cartoon. It's silly. It's classic. It's the basis for everything. It's mostly nostalgia and base grounds for funny references in other stuff)

Transformers Cyberverse: (A good, on-Cybertron show. A lot of shows take place on Earth, and I don't prefer it considering their own planet is goated)

Transformers War For Cybertron: (Again, another cybertron based show. It's darker. Good for teens and lore.)

Transformers Earthspark: (Cute. For younger kids, but I still liked it. It actually takes place Post War, which is interesting. Newer show. It's on Earth. I recommend only watching the 1st season, tho. The company switched by season two, and it gets... not good😭)

Transformers Rescue Bots: (This is just a cute watch. It's for younger kids. But it has a special place in my heart. Same universe as Transformers Prime strangely enough, haha)

Live action Movies you can watch are:

Bumblebee: (Oh, this one is so cute. You get an actually good mix of Cybertron stuff and Earth stuff. The human characters are actually likable, and the designs are faithful to their original G1 designs)

Rise Of The Beasts: (newest movie. Takes place after Bumblebee. This one is really good for lore. I love them using Mirage for a change. Again, humans are likeable.)

Bayverse: (...So, I guess you can watch this. They're controversial among the fsndom at best. It's important to note that these films did help bring important plot points to the fandom. However, they're not faithful to the source material. The robots mostly punch each other and are hardly characters outside of that. Female characters are like...😭 not good. You can tell Micheal Bay hated this franchise bahaha. Anyway, you can tell I don't like them. But there is some value in it for some people. If you just happen to like 3 straight hours of explosions and Optimus being super violent for some reason, and Starscream looking like a dorito, this is for you!)

Comics To Read Are:

OH MY GOD, PLEASE READ MTMTE/LOST LIGHT ITS SO GOOD-

And the rest of IDW ig😒 haha

Anyway! I hope this helps! I love this franchise and want people to love it too haha!

[anon-sect]

I also want a radical transformation, because I feel like I live like a shadow, invisible and useless, without any real impact.

I would like to become an element that has a specific function : maybe a clothe or an object that is useful to someone or even a part of the body that has a real use.

This change would allow me to find meaning in my life, to finally feel useful and to have a concrete role in this world.

Nick had been living a mundane life. Because of being so much of an introvert, he had very few friends. Even on his job, he really seemed invisible. He hadn't done any great thing in his life or made an impact in society or in anyone's life as far as he could remember. He was approaching the age of 45, and he wanted to find some kind of meaning in life. At the moment, he didn't have one. For most of his life, he just had no purpose. He desperately wanted one. Seeing an advertisement about a mystical guy who specializes in the impossible, he decided he would see if he could help him find purpose.

The next day, Nick arrived at Mr. Jin's office. As he sat down, he looked at him. Mr. Jin looked like an average 6'4" tall jock in a suit. He wondered how he could really help him at all. "My name is Nick. I really need to find purpose in life or just be useful to someone. Can you help me?" He simply asked.

"Hmm, maybe I could help you and another client at the same time." Mr. Jin spoke. "He has asked for a special item, and I think you might be just what I am looking for." He added as he snapped his fingers. A contract appeared directly in front of Nick. "Sign the bottom line, and your new life of purpose and use will be yours." He finished. He watched as Nick signed it without even reading what his new life would be like. He would find out soon enough, though. He snapped his fingers. The contract vanished along with Nick. He went around his desk to see a pair of black underwear in the chair. He picked it up and placed it in a box. He had the box to be mailed off to his client

Picture source: @gbzoes

Rick received a box from Mr. Jin's office. He opened it to find a pair of black underwear and a note from him. He read the note. "Dear Rick. As requested by your contract with me, I have found the perfect and special object for you. This underwear is enchanted. It will keep you muscular fit and youthful looking for many years. It will also give you bounds of energy. It's durable to last for two hundred years or so. The guy who decided to be the material for your object would appreciate you using him forever. Enjoy your new special underwear."

Rick couldn't believe it. A guy was changed into his new underwear. He went and quickly tried them on. They were a perfect fit. He saw results instantly. His body was that of an atheletic jock. He looked a bit younger than before trying on the underwear. He felt so energized. Mr. Jin was right. The underwear was enchanted. "I don't know who you was before seeing Mr. Jin, but you belong to me now. I will wear you every day for the rest of your life. You will be the object that keeps me forever young and athletic. Probably, my last time even speaking to you. Your humanity is gone forever. You are simply just my special underwear. Poor loser." He laughed as he went to relax on the balcony with his new look and new athletic body.

Nick was elated at his new life. He had purpose. He had a use. And he was useful to someone. He was literally special to his owner. His owner may have been degrading him, but it was worth it. Being worn on his now hot body every day would be a pleasure.

[synthient]

Matrix parallels aren't the only or primary lens to read this movie through. But I gotta do the special interest shuffle (spoilers for I Saw The TV Glow throughout):

We get at least one overt matrix reference, which is the bit where Owen's movie theater is showing a sci fi movie where humans have been driven underground after machines took over the surface

There's the obvious thematic overlap of "is reality real," "are my memories real," "to what extent is my reality shaped by information/entertainment technology," "is there an Outside to escape to," "would I want to if I could," etc.

The pods and the coffin. "What if I was something powerful and beautiful, suffocating"

There's also some interesting overlap with matrix 4 specifically re "what's the line between transition and suicide," "to what extent is transition a kind of death," to what extent is not transitioning a kind of death." Along with the general stuff around nostalgia and mythologized source materials and hauntology (a term Schoenbrun has used in interviews & that I first heard in a matrix 4 podcast, lmao)

The pods and the heart/luna juice sequence both posit Being Made To Live Like This as a visceral bodily violation

Tv glow is maybe more cynical about the possibility of a true Outside/alternative to the system. Though Zion turns out to not be fully "outside." And Maddy's vision (of a slightly more magical suburbia that still can't escape the confines of "the county") is probably supposed to be less The Only Vision, and more filtered through the lens of someone young and very early transition. Generally though, tv glow is much more focused on interiorty and personal transformation (or lack thereof) than overt politics, although a critique of capitalist suburbia is certainly the background radiation

Also interesting, I think, that "how does kitsch and 'bad art' shape our identity formation" becomes a central question of the later Wachowski oeuvre. And something that's always been present in their work--and has maybe been one of the most polarizing things for viewers--is the combo of "we want to make serious art, And we want to make the kitsch we adored growing up. at the same time." The pink opaque conceit perhaps manages to draw enough of a boundry between The Art and The Kitsch to head off some of the confusion and frustration re "how much of the kitsch is intentional, and how much is an attempt at serious art that failed"

The Family (and the whole concept of having loved ones to leave behind) is basically nonexistent in the matrix trilogy, and Just Evil Robots Don't Worry About It in 4. Tv glow gets much more into this. Though both the saintly mother & and the monstrous father equally serve to keep you trapped, in the end

Anyway. Perhaps the matrix has shaped the entire concept of "trans cinema" to the extent that you kind of have to engage with it on some level. Perhaps it's simply that We Are All Having The Same Thematic/Philosophical Preoccupations. All very interesting regardless, to me

[anghraine]

So, femslash Spirk update: I was moved by inspiration late last night and throughout this morning and early afternoon, and wrote even more than usual in a fun haze (I think about seven pages). I only stopped because a close friend called and we talked for two hours, and then I belatedly remembered that I'm an organic lifeform that requires food, and then J and I watched TNG. So finally, I've gotten back to this longer section.

Eventually most of these scraps are going to end up in a single long fic for AO3, and the organization for that is taking shape in my mind and outline—but I also had the idea of a Tumblr-only (for now) 5-things type structure that is very much about S'paak/Jessica, but the actual uniting theme of the whole five-part thing is language (never say I'm not predictable). Also, just as a note, I’m happy to raid non-TOS sources as suits the story, but it's fundamentally fic for TOS and not beholden to anything else.

So, I'm not posting everything I wrote (later!!), but here's a longish excerpt from the first part:

On the day that Gary Mitchell and Elizabeth Dehner died, Captain Kirk dropped by S’paak’s quarters a full 2.2 hours after the alpha shift ended. “Am I interrupting you, Commander S’paak?” she asked, her face strained and the set of her shoulders tense. S’paak had no intention of ever answering the inquiry with anything but no. She shook her head, curious to hear what the captain had to say after such a sequence of events. But Kirk said almost nothing about Mitchell and Dehner themselves, instead discussing the galactic barrier and S’paak’s theories about it at length. “It seems significant that I was wholly unaffected by the phenomena,” S’paak added, "where the human ... espers, in your word, were all transformed or killed. Any rigorous theory must account for that fact.” “You’re right,” Kirk said slowly. “I’ve always thought about psionic abilities across different species as basically the same thing. I mean, some species more or less prone to it, but psi ratings are psi ratings. It can be tested, measured, in anyone. But that doesn’t make sense of today.” She didn’t sound, or look, resentful about losing a long-time, close friend while S’paak lived on. Perhaps her manner was a little muted, but when their hands brushed as Kirk paced through the main apartment of the first officer’s quarters, S’paak felt a distinct and powerful charge of thought passing from the captain’s consciousness to her own. Even that brief moment conveyed important data: Captain Kirk remembered the lost crew members with sorrow and regret, yet beyond these, her ideas circled in a kind of intrigued dissatisfaction. She wanted to understand more of what had occurred today, and one clear thought slid into S’paak’s mind: everything can be understood with enough time and information. If I could just— S’paak discreetly closed her hands behind her back and stood back while Kirk kept wandering around like a prowling sehlat, examining the various artifacts and symbols of Vulcan scattered around the quarters. Her manner still struck S’paak as curious, but in a less restless way. “True,” said S’paak. “If my abilities were of the precise nature of the human espers, logic would suggest the same result. In that case, I would now have silver eyes, limited ethics, and power over material reality.” Kirk twisted a little away from her examination of the lirpa on S’paak’s wall and gave her a quick, crooked smile. “If you’ll forgive some unproductive human emotion, I’m glad you don’t. Let’s hope you always remain exactly as you are.” Her glance darted up to S’paak’s eyes before she returned to examining the artifacts on the wall.

S’paak blinked much more rapidly than usual, secure in the knowledge that Kirk’s back was to her and no video footage operating in anyone’s personal quarters. Despite the advantages of Vulcan memory, she couldn’t recall a time when someone had found her service, or her being, entirely satisfactory. Every person she came to know had always wished for change in her, usually immense changes that would require S’paak to turn her back on the principles fundamental to her culture and character.

She couldn’t think of a single reply that would communicate appropriate gratitude for such a gift, without also conveying an altogether inappropriate degree of emotion.

“Indeed,” S’paak said at last. “The conclusion is made more difficult, however, by the fact that humans with especially strong psionic abilities do periodically come to Vulcan for relief. It’s rare, but those people learn our practices and benefit from them in the same ways that we do.”

“I hadn’t heard about that. It’s an interesting complication,” said Kirk. Her voice lifted to a lighter, softer register as she crouched down, studying the kir’shara of Surak that S’paak kept on the lowermost shelf. The smooth stone of the obelisk and Vulcan script must be incomprehensible to her, but Kirk didn’t move. “One might even say fascinating.”

S’paak suppressed a smile. “One might.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” the captain said suddenly, her eyes still fixed on the kir’shara. “Sorry, I should have asked. You don’t mind me looking at your things?”

“Not at all,” said S’paak. She was, in reality, rather gratified. She had never served anyone who ever showed half as much interest in anything specifically Vulcan, not even Pike, and Kirk couldn’t be comfortable. She was sweating a little, at least, though that might be a result of the higher temperature of S’paak’s quarters.

“Is this a song?” Kirk asked, pointing to the letters etched along the visible side of the kir’shara.

“Not as such,” said S’paak. “It’s one of our scripts, though that style is often seen as archaic.” She paused. “The form is not entirely unrelated to music, however.”

“It’s beautiful,” said the captain instantly, without any indication of a purpose beyond what she felt in the moment. S’paak had noticed that uncharacteristically guileless, impulsive quality in her before, at times when she was alone with S’paak or, now and then, around both S’paak and McCoy. S’paak had certainly noticed its utter contrast to Kirk’s general approach to her profession.

In conjunction with Captain Kirk’s close attention to the kir’shara, S’paak herself felt different from her usual self, felt more than she should. She was glad her hands were hidden behind her back.

“Thank you,” S’paak said. “We have other scripts, but I prefer this one.”

Kirk looked up at her with open curiosity, the lines of strain on her face all but dissolved. The change might be a result of nothing more than the gentler light S’paak preferred in her quarters, she knew. Captain Kirk’s only congenital illness was a propensity to migraines under stress, and bright light worsened them. Once S’paak discovered Kirk’s affliction, she had researched enough about it to learn what environmental conditions might worsen or improve the symptoms, accounting for idiosyncratic qualities. But it had been a painful day for the captain in other respects than light; any number of causes were possible. Regardless, S’paak could not regret that Kirk had come to her. They were friends.

As usual, she found the English word unsatisfactory. Friendship in one sense was not rare among Vulcans, yet she knew that the powerful, irrepressible fondness she felt as she looked down at her captain’s upturned face was forbidden. Pleasure at the captain’s preoccupation with her mingled uncomfortably with creeping shame, both worsened by an additional consideration that flickered through S’paak’s thoughts and, in some way, her body. Jess was beautiful at such moments, beyond mere prettiness, her face somehow illuminated by the delight and fascination she so transparently felt.

S’paak knew she should distance herself, retreat into the restrained, uncomplicated, professional amity she had felt with Captain Pike. Detaching herself might be difficult at this point for both of them, but the answer to what should I do? was not mysterious or ambiguous.

“I can see why you would,” said her current captain, startling S’paak until she saw Kirk’s head turning back towards the wall and the kir’shara. Kirk’s free left hand—she had splayed the right against the soothing red of the wall for balance—reached forward, then stilled. “Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t touch it.”

“Touching it would have no effect without the proper code,” said S’paak.

Withdraw from this conversation, she told herself sternly. Redirect her attention, or change the subject. It wouldn’t be difficult.

She looked down again; at the back of Captain Kirk’s head, her hair was twisted into a slightly curling mass, containing at least five variegated shades of color: brighter and darker golds, with traces of pale ashen browns. S’paak knew, of course, that most species that grew hair on their heads at all also grew it in a varied range of colors, especially visible in light hair. It was not rare or exceptional.

She wondered what Jess’s hair would look like without the pins that always held the bulk of it in place—if she shook it loose over her shoulders here, in this room, or on Vulcan, under the stars. An utterly unproductive point of curiosity.

“Of course,” said Kirk affectionately. “That’s very logical. I should have guessed.”

“It is a kir’shara of Surak,” S’paak told her.

“Kir’shara,” her captain repeated carefully. “The translator didn’t get that word. What does it mean?”

“A structure containing valuable information,” said S’paak. “In this case, it contains his teachings and philosophies.”

“Impressive,” Kirk said, sounding like she meant it.

S’paak replied, “It’s not the original, of course. Only a replica, but the wisdom of his words is not lessened by duplication.”

“Are these his exact words, as he said or wrote them?” Jess asked. “Is that why it’s in the older script? I just wondered because, with Earth philosophies, the original wording can be essential to truly understanding something. Translations of language across time are always interpretations, at least for us. Is it the same for you?”

“Yes,” said S’paak in a low voice. “With written passages, especially, translation of ideas and knowledge can be … imprecise, even when done by the most skilled linguists, though not without value. A proper kir’shara of Surak, however, will always contain every word he himself wrote, and just as he wrote them.”

“Doubly impressive,” Kirk remarked. “That’s a lot to contain in something of this size.”

S’paak looked sharply down at her, though it wasn’t as if the coil of her hair or now-relaxed set of her shoulders would reveal anything. Out of necessity, she told herself, S’paak lowered herself to the floor as well, kneeling beside the captain. This position would allow her to make out most of Kirk’s face and gain some sense of what she thought, and of the accuracy of her own communications in a conversation touching on something this important. This near, she might even gain a sense of Jessica’s—Jess’s—the captain’s thoughts, though that shouldn’t be necessary.

“You’re familiar with the extent of his work?” S’paak asked carefully.

“Of course,” said Kirk, turning to her with eyebrows raised. S’paak’s gaze briefly flicked to the shadow Jess wore beneath her brows and along her eyelids, the shades of make-up subtler than S’paak’s own until the shadowy pink turned to dramatic, near-black lines painted around her eyes and brushed onto her longer lashes. There was no missing that small indulgence from here, nor the startling contrast between the dark make-up and the hazel of her irises, the deeper shades shot through with threads and flecks of gold.

I am in control of my emotions, S’paak promised herself, banishing every distraction to the limits of her mind, and comforted by her own practiced composure.

“I had to be. I taught philosophy at the Academy awhile back,” Jess went on, blessedly oblivious to S’paak’s thoughts. “Well, it must have been five or six years ago now.”

S’paak was shocked, though on consideration, she shouldn’t have been. If Jess cared about anything, it was significance, overarching principles, the underlying meaning of information more than the information itself. 

“Apparently, I was notorious then as a harsh and terrifying teacher, one of the hardest. Can you imagine?” Kirk was saying, her eyes fixing back on the Vulcan words she couldn’t read.

“No,” said S’paak, only just containing her incredulity.

“I didn’t mean to be,” Kirk said. “But it was a required course to advance, and I wasn’t going to let cadets pass on my watch unless I could tell they were thinking about what all of this means. If not, well, that’s not what Starfleet is about, what the Federation—but I don’t need to give the speech to you.” She wrinkled her nose a little, evidently at herself rather than S’paak. “But some of the thinkers, like Surak, I had only ever read in translation, unfortunately. Didn’t keep me from terrorizing the cadets, but it’s not the same.”

“I suppose not,” said S’paak, “but you undoubtedly did the best you could with the resources you had. If your students didn’t want to think about their actions, they chose the wrong profession.”

[monstersdownthepath]

Skimmed through Thirst for Blood, the first book in the Shades of Blood AP and have mixed feelings on a lot of it that may clear on a more thorough read, but the main draw was the dive into the worship of Camazotz. I think the inclusion of Camazotz, Ah Pook (still really wish they used Ah Puch instead), and numerous Coatl deities kind of makes the justifications for cutting out the Osirion pantheon even stranger, but that's not what we're here for.

As lore goes, Camazotz's article simply re-states a lot of info we already knew about him from other sources, just a little longer. He's a savage deity (in both the sense of "a god that is savage" and "a god of what could be considered savages") with little room for nuance, as direct as a god can be with what he wants from the world and from the faith that has formed around him. He wants to drink blood, he wants to hunt, he wants people to be afraid of him, and he wants his followers to aspire to the same ideals. He abhors civilization and how "soft" it makes people in every sense of the word, going so far as to be sickened by the idea of easy prey and growing bored if his meals don't fight back.

Fittingly enough, his cultists are the player's first introduction to blood-drinking threats in the AP, and make for "starter villains" to set up more powerful foes. However, even a straightforward deity like Camazotz has a surprising number of mysteries and eyebrow-raising events, such as:

His origin legend claims that he was once a vampire bat that was so evil that he grew a complex soul (as humans have) just to hold it all.

He is said to have served as a messenger for various Demon Lords for millennia, carrying messages across the planes to their followers and gorging on blood offerings from both. Eventually, he finally ascending after eating an Empyreal Lord that was given to him as payment for his services.

Because of his frequent traveling between the planes, he has three divine lairs as a result: the House of Bats in Xibalba, Agrahoz in the Abyss, and the Land of Eleven Deaths in... the Material Plane???

Agrahoz stretches all the way down to Yad Iagnoth, aka the top of the world for the qlippoth... with whom he shares a cordial, peaceful relationship. Anyone who knows anything about qlippoth should realize how weird this is, but perhaps the parasitic and predatory denizens of the deepest Rifts see kinship in what is, essentially, an evolved predator? Camazotz did not become a god through worship, but through his own sadistic and ceaseless violence, something the primordial qlippoth likely both understand and respect.

His lair in the Material is even MORE curious. Camazotz freely flits between the planes even now, which is already highly unusual for a divine figure, but to my knowledge, the fact he can exist in the universe as a physical entity makes him one of three gods to do so, the others being Gozreh and Kitumu. That he is a divine figure one can just... encounter, potentially even randomly, is bizarre in Pathfinder's universe, where gods tend to stick to their Outer Sphere planes, because leaving those planes can raise enemy alarms.

Camazotz in general gets a bizarre amount of leeway compared to most gods, freely blessing or cursing his followers as he sees fit, including just giving away darkvision to people who prove they can hunt without it first. Thirst for Blood highlights an especially overt flex of his power: he can, entirely on a whim, grant his followers the ability to become true werebats or bat beastkin if he likes them enough, when otherwise such a dramatic transformation would require some form of ritual or higher-level magic. While it's true many of them DO perform some kind of lengthy, ritualistic rite for the privilege, the ritual isn't to gain the power, it's to prove their devotion, with Camazotz having the final say on if it works. Even if they do everything perfectly, he can still say no, and if they screw up the ritual entirely, he can still say yes, which is not how these things are usually DONE!

Camazotz is a straightforward deity, but for whatever reason, he can flaunt the rules that normally bind other gods and prevent them from acting, and maintains allies along demons, qlippoth, and sahkil. There are a few possible reasons he gets away with such audacious acts, with the most plausible being that... well, strictly speaking, the reason most gods don't do what Camazotz is doing is that it invites retaliation from their enemies, and up until recently, he didn't have enemies that regarded him as an immediate threat that needed to be destroyed, because in the grand scheme of things, he was a single predator devouring prey and spends the vast majority of his time waiting for prey to stumble into his lairs (or be sent to him by others) instead of seeking it out. He wasn't enacting any grand, worlds-shaping plans, and actually kept his own cults disorganized and disjointed by encouraging infighting and direct, bloody violence. Still, his actions make him an anomaly among the divine!

[theoldspark]

Not the anon who criticized Skybound on the confessions blog, but I saw your reply so I thought I'd send an ask. I'm a fan of Skybound but I can see a lot of valid criticisms wrt pacing (mostly action), a large cast with many characters that don't get enough page time (tho it isn't even That large yet so it's kinda more a TF problem in general imo...), subplots that take a long time to get addressed/resolved (tho I am reserving final judgement on this until #24 comes out which will be the end of DWJ's time as the writer of the series. I started reading Skybound around #14, imo as a binge read it's fine, but having to wait half a year or more for something to get resolved is killer. I never read traditional serialized American comics before the Energon Universe so I don't know if this is typical.) More specific criticisms would require spoilers.

I think whether you'd like it or not depends on personal taste, it isn't perfect but it's fun and the art is gorgeous. If nothing else is peak, the art absolutely is. The contrast between the super stylized and saturated G1 designs next to the super detailed humans and environments is crazy. The preview of the cover by DWJ for #20 (not out yet) is a perfect example of what I'm talking about. Jorge Corona's penciling is also wonderful, the "skinned alive"/tortured Autobot in #8 is SO visceral and expressive. The issue that introduced Beachcomber was similarly breathtaking. The fight scenes are also incredibly dynamic (thanks to DWJ's background with wrestling). Reading it in hand is worth it for the spreads alone. Despite what I said about characters lacking pagetime, characterization is still strong - YMMV but it definitely has one of the best Optimus Prime's, and I'm a HUGE fan of their take on Elita. The humans are also done well! They actively add something to the story.

I guess the main thing is that when I try to think about what Skybound is doing NEW I kind of come up with a blank. Mostly small things so far. It hasn't lasted long enough to do anything crazy yet because it was committed to starting from ground zero. We only got Megatron in issue #18! And #19 was a flashback, so that's over a year and a half before Megatron became an active character. The war on Earth not immediately involving Megatron was very cool (especially if you like Starscream being petty and murderous) but the plot moves slowly. I've only read a bit of IDW so I unfortunately can't compare between the two of them. Idk how far IDW1 had gotten story-wise after the first 19~ issues they published. BUT...if you (general you) enjoy G1 (especially Sunbow G1 which is the "Bible" DWJ is using), there's really no reason why you wouldn't like Skybound? FWIW I only got into Transformers within the last year and watched all of G1 as an adult and loved it, so it's not a nostalgia thing for me, but it's def the closest retread of G1 done in years. Which I personally appreciate, since there's actually a lot of really interesting G1 stuff that never got touched again!.....but that's why I actually slightly prefer Void Rivals, which has the most "Season 3"/scifi stuff in it so far, including Hot Rod in the last few issues. (yay!) We're even getting Wreck-Gar this month.

Apologies for the super long ask! But I hope this was useful.

Thank you so much, anon! I appreciate you taking the time to answer something I commented elsewhere.

To be honest, whether it is said to be good or bad, I always prefer to judge for myself after I've consumed the actual source material and not just people's opinions that may very well be biased.

However, it did seem curious to me that many fans seemed to only have good things to say about Skybound, so I was intrigued by the anon ask that said the opposite.

Reading your ask, I'll say that Skybound sounds like something I would enjoy. Plus G1 (although I haven't watched it all) is one of my favorite Transformers series, so anything closely based on it gets kudos from me. But I do see where the other anon was coming from with the criticism. Slow-paced stories don't always work, especially when you only have 24 issues to tell it. And one thing I'm not sure I'll be a fan of that I've heard of is 'Optimus puts Earth before Cybertron' once again. I've never liked that trope, but to be fair it's not anything new for Optimus Prime's character.

Overall, for the things I know, it's a story worth giving it a chance. It may not be perfect, but hardly anything is in this fandom.

[ardentpoop]

my ultimate takeaway from this essay (published 2006) is that it does accurately capture how most viewers respond to sam vs dean as well as sam’s original function as the audience surrogate btwn the two brothers, but it isn’t critical enough of the show’s values - to be fair, expected for the time - and thus does not question whether its characterizations of sam as “bitchy” and “selfish” (in comparison to dean, as always) hold merit at all. it is simultaneously far too accepting of dean’s facade as something purely Aspirational for everyone in the audience.

again, to be fair to the author, this piece was written after only one season of the show had aired, but even as early on as s1 - before dean had absorbed john’s patriarchal role - there were cracks in dean’s larger-than-life facade that the same viewers he consistently distracts from sam with his Dazzlingly Masculine edge dramatically overemphasize to be able to justify their attribution of every “relatable” trait that sam demonstrates much more clearly and intentionally than dean to dean alone, as if the core contrasts between these two characters don’t affect everything about the show. I don’t think it’s accurate to claim that it’s as simple as dean is who we want to be and sam is who we really are. this assumption relies on a usually-subconscious reading of most surface-level dean traits as “good” (strong, manly) and most surface-level sam traits as “bad” (weak, girly). in fact for me personally sam is who I’ve always wanted so dearly to be but I see more of myself in dean than I would like, which makes me very sad as I am unable to gloss over the reality of dean as a monumentally flawed character who does immense damage to himself and others from his uncontested position of authority. if you view the (abuse-enabling) family structure as fundamentally good and surpassing all other forms of human connection, of course you’ll agree with dean/john and (to a lesser but still noticeable extent) the show’s writers that sam was selfish to “walk away” from it in pursuit of a life on his own terms, as opposed to seeing him as I did when I was a miserable teenager as incredibly brave and aspirational for having done so.

I’ll give them this too: the show IS to the bitter(sweet to some) end ultimately about the burden of being “sammy”; to the discerning viewer this never stopped being the case even when the writers finally let their idealization of dean’s facade lull them into swapping him into the Main Character seat in sam’s place, to the overall detriment of the story… although from what I’ve seen no dean-biased viewer would be able to point to this switch as being responsible for the lack of focus and confused emotional beats of the late seasons. the expansion of dean’s role in tandem with the shrinking of sam’s is absolutely beautiful horror for fanartists willing/able to transform the source material with an understanding of why those original surface-level dean traits were only ever amplified over time whereas the definitive surface-level sam traits that primarily existed to further idealize dean’s facade were steadily chipped away at to the point that the audience discusses “bitchy sam” as if he is a relic of the early seasons, and otherwise tends to dismiss the final canon iterations of him as so gentle and toothless as to be “boring.” mind you, this is the same audience that was numbly swayed by the narrative into believing that sam’s anger (suspicious) was a character defect while dean’s anger (righteous) was an asset, and the same audience that carried their narrative-supplied/dean-supplied idea of sam as “selfish” into the last season of the show (s8) that portrayed him pushing back against his restrictive role as “sammy.” every version of sam was doomed to inadequacy for the majority of this audience, because of sam and dean’s respective roles.

TL;DR I wish this shit was easier to summarize so you’d know why I disagree with almost everyone who comments on this show <3

[more-than-tender-curiosity]

What Gatsby musical do you think is best?

The Great Gatsby : A New Musical

Gatsby : An American Myth

And depending on which you pick, why did you choose that one?

I have been outspoken in my criticism of The Great Gatsby: A New Musical to the point where it's kind of marked me as an asshole to fans of said musical, but I'm not backing down. Read my opinions boy

No, but seriously. Let me begin by saying that I came to this point already worn down by so many heartless, obnoxious, cash-grabby adaptations of prior works (Mean Girls, Beetlejuice, Heathers, etc) that bank almost entirely on nostalgia and spectacle and, in some cases, the unknowing of their YOUNG target audience, in order to blind said audience into just calling the music a bop and moving on.

And I'm tired of it. Yes, I'm aware musical theater has always run on adaptations—Chicago and Little Shop of Horrors are among some of my favorites! But I approach every single adaptation of ANYTHING with the same baseline question: is this adaptation justified?

You could take the very moderate opinion of "having more musicals to listen to is a good thing!" but I think that's naive, and falling right into the trap set by creators who are only here for Lin Manuel-level Tony's and that's it. There's no dedication to actually making something new with something already established. Nothing transformative. It's lazy.

That's what I mean by 'is this adaptation justified'. Does the adaptation in question engage with the source material in a way that refreshes it, dives deeper into it, and takes advantage of the new method of storytelling (in this case, from book to stage musical) to showcase how the new method of storytelling benefits the source material? Like in the case of Little Shop of Horrors, it uses satire to highlight deeper issues that are barely skated across in the source material while also pulling forth factors of the source material that were more relevant at the time when it was released.

I for one am exhausted by adaptations at this point. It's always been a backbone of musical theater but now, even outside of theater, we are awash in them. it's been said before that pretty much everything you see now is a remake or an adaptation or a sequel or a prequel or a cinematic universe or something derivative, and that tends to punch down on the smaller, more creative, original ideas that might've flourished if the market wasn't oversaturated with mass-produced corporatized shiny flashy garbage.

This is where the two Gatsby musicals come in.

If you're here, you know that I...dedicate a lot of time to this novel. I could have gone to college and got a degree with the time I have spent on this novel and its study. Unraveling every single sentence, every character motivation, every real life factor that plays in to Fitz's writing of the novel—every draft, every movie adaptation. The entire history of this novel and its creation is carved into the inside of my skull.

Now, one thing you should know about gatsby is that Fitz wrote it when he was just coming off the massive failure of his play The Vegetable. That's not the full title, but I'm not going to bother typing out the rest of it. Because it was bad. It was not good. No one liked it. So, naturally, Fitz wanted to improve on his playwriting skills. Up until then, he was good at short stories and he was good at long, descriptive novels, but he couldn't quite understand how to condense and reformat his novel-writing style into something more like a stageplay.

Gatsby was sort of his attempt. You'll note that Gatsby is only 47,043 or so words, which is less than half of most of his other novels. The action and dialogue are snappy. There is, shockingly enough, less purple prose than prior releases (in spite of Nick spending 23984798347928374 words, approximately, to describe his new neighbor's smile). Scott was trying desperately to pare down his writing and see if he could slowly shift his formatting toward something that could translate to the stage.

Many of you know that The Great Gatsby was a total major uber flop.

There went his dreams of making this a play. And there have been many attempts since, all with very limited success, because for the most part, there is a total lack of understanding concerning what makes this novel a novel instead of play material. All too many times, there has been a disconnect as to what would translate effectively onto the stage as it is written in the book, like the themes of being dazzled by a spectacle but not, as displayed in the novel, the downside of such a thing.

As I said. All too often, there is too little thought given to the advantages of adapting a written work to musical theater. This leads to much of the deeper shades of the story being left to the wayside in favor of shallow spectacle just to keep the masses entertained without actually translating the stunning symbolism and figurative work Fitz put on the page.

This is what happened to The Great Gatsby: A New Musical. They took the most barebones understanding that most viewers would have of the story (that it's a love story, just like Romeo and Juliet!—side-eye), and made everything as loud and as fast and as bright as they could to make up for any lack of exploration beyond what is very plainly written on the page.

This does not work with The Great Gatsby.

I've mourned the gooberfication of Nick Carraway before. I love the 2013 film, as I'm sure many do because it was many of our first experiences with any Gatsby adaptation, but you can see it with Tobey Maguire and you can see it here in The Great Gatsby: A New Musical. So many times I see people call him an unreliable narrator but it's very clear they don't understand exactly why he's unreliable.

This 'gooberfication' I speak of is Nick's attempt to convince us that he's the innocent one here, in every single situation, and everyone around him is a liar and he's always telling the truth so you can trust him. He's the only honest person he's ever known.

Red flag central.

So from that line alone, you have to understand that everything Nick says or does, leaves in or leaves out, is suspect. He's out of his element in New York but he is absolutely not some baby-cheeked little goober who is SO TOTALLY BLINDED by his infatuation with Gatsby that he's just willing to go along with everything and doesn't pass judgment. We joke "Nick says he doesn't judge anyone then proceeds to judge everyone in the novel!" Yeah, no shit. That's the thing. He is a hypocrite made only lesser by the way he plays up the evils of everyone around him, and that's how he gets by. That's how he sleeps at night.

You can cast that into whatever light you like, whether it's the hypocrisy of saying he's so poor when he's living in at LEAST a two bedroom cottage with a maid and modern appliances and his dad is paying for a full YEAR of his life after paying his way through an Ivy League school. Or you could say he does this to throw suspicion off himself and possibly his sexuality, which is a whole can of worms involving Fitzgerald's constant projection onto his characters that I cannot bear to crack open.

Point being, Nick isn't just the passive bystander in all of these situations. He makes it sound like he is, like he's just doing favors for people who are worse than him, and how he disapproves of even everything Gatsby does despite his evident fascination with the man, but at the end of the day, he's just passing the buck. Washing his hands clean. There are so many clues in the book to this sort of thing that should tip you off to the fact that Nick Carraway is not just some silly sweet guy who gets swept up into a life of chaos and crime just to come out cynical. He was already a judgemental, cynical individual who was forced to come all too close to the realization that he, too, is more 'one of them' than he can bear to admit—even in spite of how he attempts to obscure his own hypocrisy.

Nick is not innocent. No one in this book is (besides Pammy, though she's a ticking time bomb if we're meant to understand the wealth she will inherit). That's the whole point of the fucking book. There are a thousand hands each pushing a tiny bit to keep these impossible shades of class division moving, and condemning one person (like Nick does with Daisy or Tom) doesn't solve the problem. Jay still dies. The American dream is still a nightmare. Nick still has a father to fall back on.

Which is why it's so impossibly perplexing to me to display Nick as some sort of lapdog who just seems honored to spend time with these people. Why Jay is just some quirked up white boy who is, quite literally, just too quirky and obnoxious to bear. He and Daisy are so in love and they're so close to each other and isn't it just tooooo saddd to bearrrr?? So romantic????

There's nothing deeper to it. No asking why Fitz wrote any of these characters the way he did. No understanding of the deeper implications of what he was trying so desperately to convey, on both a social and personal level. Yes, it's a love story, but it's also a commentary on just how fucked everyone is by the cages of tradition.

And there is just no trace of that in the Broadway musical. Everything is simple and easily digestible. There is no deeper interaction with the source material, no drive to have produced it at all except, perhaps, to cash in on the new public domain. They got the biggest names they could with the biggest cult followings, knowing so many would just eat it right up and call each song a bop and it would trend on tiktok and they might get a tony and then they'd move on. No integrity. No passion. No justification.

Gatsby: An American Myth is much the opposite.

After hearing a Totally Legal version of the Broadway musical, I was terrified of what ART would do to this book. Now that I had seen just how fearfully easy it was to just slap some 'art deco' and glitter on the stage, write a painfully obvious love song, and move on, I was really concerned that this trend of bloodless, toothless adaptations would continue and I'd have to sigh and move on with my life.

Fortunately, everything I mentioned that bothered me about the Broadway musical is set right in Gatsby: An American Myth. I really should have expected nothing less from Florence Welch in terms of the music (which is, of course, one of the most show-stopping elements of the musical, as it should be) considering her prior works and how they relate to the Great Gatsby. This is someone who has been obsessed with the book longer than I have been and has woven it into so much of her body of work that I'm surprised this musical didn't drop the day it became public domain. I cannot think of a better contemporary musician to handle that facet of a Gatsby musical.

This adaptation itself does exactly what I would have hoped. I am, of course, someone who holds the book and all its drafts to a very high regard—if this is a religion, that's my bible. What's in there, goes, though it's open to interpretation. Typically I would be against adding things at all.

What they added, however, was brilliant. Nothing massive—just, again, ways to take advantage of the musical theater method of production, and ways to modernize and acknowledge more contemporary understandings of the source material. Where the Broadway musical carefully tiptoed around any indication that nick was anything other than straight and in love with Jordan Baker, Gatsby: An American Myth leaned right into the idea that he was made an outsider by his sexuality, and that was part of why he related to Jay so hard. Because otherwise, why would he? He's a middle-to-upper-middle class Midwesterner whose father is paying for a year of his life while he works a little for-fun job in the big city. What does he know about being an outsider?

Gatsby: An American Myth shows you that. Shows how everyone is an outsider to each other in this story, and how individualism destroys a community that would otherwise support you. You can take that on a society-wide level or personal: Jay being totally disconnected from even himself, or the wealthy pretending they don't live on the same planet as the poor.

Another miraculous addition was a sort of bridge between Myrtle and Wilson that just makes sense. I don't want to spoil it too much, but everything they added or rearranged or re-highlighted just goes to display the depth and breadth this story really reaches. They read between every line, proudly displayed the complexity of every single situation and character—how all of them are the victim and all of them are the perpetrator—while STILL making it sound fantastic in my opinion.

It's by no means a flawless work and I saw it early on its production. It's changed since then and obviously I haven't been able to hear it since I saw it live, but I have total faith in the creative team to have not completely thrown away their good intentions in favor of trending on tiktok.

To conclude I would just ask anyone reading to please inspect the media you consume. Inspect the motives of the person feeding it to you. There's not really any sort of Nobility to art, but at this point, with so many shallow attempts to cash in on our desperate search for community and contentment, quality and passion have been thrown out the window. Shoveling this hot shit at us day and night (remakes, sequels, prequels, adaptations) has become another tool of capitalism to keep us just satisfied to not ask for more.

Ask for more. Ask for better. You deserve it.

[inventors-fair]

Lyrical Miracles

What's the word? Several words. Maybe I've been a little down on outside sources in MTG as of late, but there are opportunities to use one's love for source material as inspiration. Inspiration leads to creativity, and with however many songs are out in the world, I hope there's a lot to be inspired by this week. I'm keeping the preamble short because honestly—I've never designed a card in the way I'm about to challenge y'all with. Whatever you come up with is going to be uniquely yours. That also means you're going to have to find a strong basis for your presentation! So—

Design a card that uses a song lyric of your choice in either its name or flavor text.

When submitting, please tell me what song it is! Part of this is curiosity, and part is just verification that we're quoting correctly. It'll be tempting to change the lyrics to fit grammar or context, but I want you to adhere to the exact words.

It doesn't matter where you get the lyric from as long as it's from a song that someone would be able to look up and listen to. If you yourself are a songwriter, that's a wonderful vocation; I'm also gonna ask that you use a song that you yourself did not write this week as an additional challenge. Honestly this is a really niche requirement unless Bob Dylan has a secret Magic-themed Tumblr or whatever.

Obviously, you don't have to use a whole line if it goes too far beyond the name bar or stretches the FT box. As long as it's long enough to be recognizable.

If it helps the world of the card, you can attribute the quote in flavor text to a Magic character and/or the subject in the card, etc.

Sometimes song titles are also in the lyrics, that's understandable. If you're going to choose a quote that includes the song title, I wanna stress: I don't want to see card names that are just song titles, 'cause that's a whole different contest that I think we've also done before and defeats the purpose of this being its own thing. Yknow?

Branch out! This one's not a requirement, but these cards don't have to be music-themed at all. I use the Prismari campus just 'cause that one happens to hit the inspirational theme. Let the lyrics guide you towards feeling, and put that feeling towards a card!

Most importantly: have fun <3 I think we've done this one before but it's been a long time and I don't...think it was me running it? Eh, either way, I'm a poet, so let's go nuts.

A winning card will be an impactful and/or transformative work that uses the flavor text in ways that elevate the emotions, situation and context of the work at hand.

I'm looking to see cards that either lean heavily into the heart of a song lyric or skillfully subvert the lyric to emphasize a card's presentation.

@abelzumi

Submitters, keep on >> SUBMITTING The Discord, keep on >> DISCORDING

P.S. If you're on Mobile and have trouble submitting, use the askbox instead! It should work just as well.