#anyway. i should be there. that should be me. wail wail wail gnash teeth rend flesh howl at the moon

[raytorosaurus]

the riot fest lineup is also hilarious for geoff rickly specifically. headlining is the band that first truly got him deeply into music because his friends' hot older sisters liked them and he wanted to impress them (the cure). under them is the band with the guys from atdi who played in geoff's basement in the 90s and were one of thursday's biggest early influences (the mars volta). also at least one or two other bands who played geoff's basement back then actually (h2o, quicksand i believe?). then geoff's favourite ever band when he was in college, who publicly "bashed" him in 2003 by accusing him of plagiarism, which upset geoff so much he couldn't listen to them for a while (godspeed you! black emperor). his current favourite new band (high vis). his own band (thursday). and the other band that includes not only his drummer but also the bassist who has barely toured with thursday in over a decade but now can't seem to stay off the road (ls dunes). oh and they all fucking slap.

[sedgewicke]

I Heard It from the Grapevine and Was Like "Fuck"

I think my main problem with Sadeas' character progression (being based off grapevine spoilers) is that. He was at juuuust the right level of shitty I wanted him at... when he first showed up. But then Name Brand Sand™ kept going "OK, now I'm gonna make him worse... and worse... aaaand worse... and..."

Until I'm just like

No, literally. He's dead, my suffering should be over, but Sando just keeps going "...and now he's a rapist! I got flashbacks up my sleeves!" Goddammit, FrankSanderson!

Normally, when a writer decides to keep upping the wild shit that the villain does, I'm there with my metaphorical tub of popcorn, nodding along like I'm listening to a smokin' hot jam. Like, yass queen, have that total mental/emotional breakdown because your Emotional/Ethical Support Teenager was planning on betraying you, undo all your attempts at bettering yourself or making amends for your crimes, BURN IT ALL DOWN, TAKE YOUR ARMY, AND DIE A METAL AF DEATH FACING DOWN YOUR ENEMIES WITH YOUR BACKS TO THE SEA! OK that's a lie, that sequence of events had/has me wailing and gnashing my teeth and rending my clothing because WE COULD'VE HAD IT AAAAALLL, but simultaneously, what an absolute metal album cover way to plan to go out. I probably should've used the "Roll up on the capital city by yourself, say 'I got an army that'll destroy you, so you should just give me the city now while you're still alive, HAVE IT FUCKING WORK, and then give a big show-stopper of a speech in front of the whole town while wearing an all-white ensemble, including the boots" part for my example. What was I talking about that wasn't Chaos Walking?

OH RIGHT.

But the crux of my beef is that, in a rare showing on my part, I didn't want Sadeas to go full villain. I wanted him to be Our Trash Ally, who just accidentally stays on The Side of Good, not because he's a good person, or wants to do the right thing, or even cares about doing the right thing, but rather a combination of it being beneficial to him in some way and/or it involves protecting his dead husband's son (at least, it does from his perspective, if not objectively).

It's a character type that I really like, but don't get to see very often outside of Lovable Rogues (who usually end up having a heart of gold or w/e anyway) or Ice Queen Raibarus (free band name) who make the choice to join Our Heroes and eventually end up becoming a good guy who's just kinda moody.

And like, nah, nah, it should be obvious, but I gottta make sure you don't get it twisted: in this Ideal Scenario of mine, I'm not looking for a Sadeas Redemption Arc, I don't want him to be a Bastard with a Heart of Gold. But at the very least I want him to have a Heart of a Mid-Grade Aluminum. Like, if it seems like he's becoming a better person--or at least a less worse person, it's probably 90-95% having to keep Dalinar from being Not-Mad-Just-Disappointed and quoting The Way of Kings passages at him. Along with understanding the fact that it'll be really hard to keep up the lifestyle to which he's become accustomed if the entire world is destroyed or becomes shrouded in evil or whatever the end goal of Odium or Whoever is gonna be.

So what I'm saying is, welcome to my least weird Stormlight AU that I'll be running inside my head alongside the canon as I read it. I will be calling it the "He's a Cunt, But He's Our Cunt" AU.

[chicago-geniza]

mutual's post prompted this line of thought, but:

- it was inculcated in me very early on that my appearance--in contrast to most of my relatives'--was unremarkable & also, critically, *unmarked*; this would allow me to be Anonymous & Invisible (the most desirable thing a person could strive for) & pass unnoticed in a crowd. i wasn't tall like my mother, i wasn't dark like my cousins, i wasn't fat like my sister, i didn't "look jewish" & i didn't speak with an accent. at least once a week someone would tell me how lucky i was, how grateful i should be, that i had light eyes & hair, that i had light skin, that i didn't look like the rest of the family. when i hit puberty & my complexion got swarthier, & my hair got coarser & curlier & turned from blonde to nearly black, i gained a lot of weight, & my features got...well, "clockably" jewish-looking, there was much weeping & wailing & gnashing of teeth & rending of garments about it, like, in front of me? about me becoming Ugly & most importantly losing my ability to Blend In.

- like they had counted on me being conventionally attractive to compensate for...everything else, & i grew up to be a chubby jew once hormones hit because everyone in our family is a chubby jew & that's what happens with...genes! & i was being very lightly bullied in school, nothing horrific, just age-appropriate stuff, however, parents projected Big Time & sat me down for these long lectures about Making Yourself A Target & Attracting Attention & It's Your Own Fault For Flying Your Freak Flag Like A Matador To A Bull When You Should Be Perfecting The Fine Art Of Camouflage.

- anyway i'm doing a lot of work rn on the body & interpretations imposed on it against the body-bearer's will during the interwar period & stefania zahorska's descriptions of her self-insert protagonist through her lover's eyes as he means to compliment her beauty by saying she doesn't look jewish at all & she replies something like "close your eyes, unfocus them, & look at my face through the membranes of your eyelids, take in only the forms--the shape of my face, the slant of my eyes, the angle of my nose. & imagine she's a stranger on the street, not your beloved. what would you say now?"

- zahorska was an ardent assimilationist, but she wasn't naive; her response was different, but she, like vogel & schulz, was taking part in a discourse about matter pressed into form by history & i am thinking about this push & pull every day of my life. how do you costume the body to minimize bulk when the personality matches the role but the physicality doesn't, because typecasting shouldn't be Pure Form; how do you cloak your origins in diction & movement & language, in clothing, in style; how is the body obscured by the Subject-Self when we decide the Subject-Self is in conflict with how the body is interpreted by dominant interpretive paradigms, & we make a conscious choice to change others' perception; we impose our will by making others perceive the conjured Subject-Self before they perceive their preconceived notions about the body. it is an act of will, it's an act of self-creation, it's zhiznetvorchestvo!

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

A Terrifying Tempest  ——————————————

Things weren’t always peachy in Roo’s early days. Aiden’s out of the house, and our favorite little paint cat comes head to head with something he’s never seen before. It’s more than a little scary.

This is a two part chapter! The first part is here!

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————

oh? two chapters in two days? what am i, some sorta competent??? nah, i’m just riding on a wave of productivity. Happy to have this one out tho!!! ‘s about time i finished this ;w;

enjoy some fun times with roo and his feral form, y’all ;3

WARNING FOR BODY HORROR! if that’s not your deal, skip what’s between these ( ~~~ ) and keep readin!!!

                                                      ————

Rain hammered against the villagers’ roofs. Thousands of its tiny droplets pounded against soaking wood. Lightning slashed through the sky, leaving jagged wounds of light against the ashy clouds. They vanished as soon as they’d come. Thunder roared deafeningly, like some monstrously angry beast. The wind howled back in fury. In the void-like darkness of the night, there were only a handful of people out, trying futilley to prevent the storm’s damage. All else stayed huddled in their dark houses. There was only one thing to do in a storm such as this. Wait it out. And hope that your fear didn’t invite it inside. For some, this was a feat greater than the squall. For some, the tempest outside was much more than a storm. For some… it was a nightmare.

                                                     ————

Thoughts swirled around in Roo’s head. The thunder outside threatened to drown them out, but they hissed louder in protest. He trembled fiercely as he dug under the blankets on Aiden’s bed. No matter how much of his paint stained them, they were safe, right? He was safe there, right? Right? The little cat curled himself into a tighter ball. His ears pressed against his head, eyes squeezed shut. Why hadn't his originator come home yet? Had something gone wrong outside? Where was he? It was so dark, so loud, so horribly nerve-wracking. Where was he?! He desperately scrambled to calm his rising panic. It was like trying to stop the tide from coming in. Sooner or later, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No matter how hard you hold on, there’s bound to be a swell that sweeps you away. Unfortunately, the water was getting higher. And Roo didn’t know how to swim. Wh-what’m I suh-supposed teh do? He whimpered, paws over his ears. Aiden’s not- h-he’s not h-heah- Move. Wh... what? The sudden impulse- no, urge- nearly brought his fear to a halt. Where had that come from? … For the first time, the cat realized his chest felt much too tight.  His anxiety trickled back like a creek before a flood, bringing violent shivers with it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. Get out. Run. His breathing picked up as he glanced around. Paint spattered blankets and darkness surrounded him. Where could he go? Where could he get to? Aiden- Aiden said he couldn’t leave the house right now- he couldn’t get out anyways! Have to go. Have to go right now. He couldn’t get enough air. Were the blankets starting to curl closer? He grit his teeth, baring tiny desperate fangs at the darkness. B-but where? I don’ know where i could- Go! NOW! GET OUT! The kitten pawed at his head, cringing at the claws that sliced through his fur. Why wouldn’t it stop?! W-where do I go I’ve got nowhere to go I c-can’t- I can’t! GET OUT OF HERE! Panicky whimpers started bubbling up from his maw, his fur following suit. It felt like his whole body was boiling. As if something was building- expanding- rising- like the ocean before a tsunami. W-why was he- what was he- wh- What’s happenin to me?! Where’m I supposed to go?! I’m- I’M STUCK! THERE’S NO WAY OUTTA HEAH-! NEED TO GO GO GO GO NOW RUN- The cacophony of wailing instincts and fear and terror was too much- too much- too much bad bad stop sTOP STOP I CAN’T I CAN’T I C-CA-HAN’T-

Roo felt something inside of him give a horrible, splintering snap. Everything suddenly stopped. It was just… silent. Numb. Jarringly disconnected.  But only for a moment.  Everything came crashing back down with a vengeance.

~~~

The little kitten let out a frightful cry as pain surged down its spine. Bubbles popped and roiled across its fur. It felt like the horrible flashes outside had come in- latched onto it- sent white hot tingling down all its limbs- the familiar thrashed about under the covers, just trying to get free. It’s head was a whirlwind of shrieking and agony. Nothing was processing besides pure panic. At least, not mentally. Magic was already at work. The kitten’s limbs began to stretch like taffy. It felt as if boiling lava was pouring all over it. Malleable and impossibly bendy, it’s arms and legs quickly stiffened into steely rods of bone. What began as tiny paws started sharpening into wicked claws. Each digit practically had a sickle attached to it- all the better to rend things in its path. Fiery limbs and flailing claws tore at the sheets desperately, hoarse gasps accompanying the ripping of fabric. A round of crackling sounded off from its back, and it shrieked again. It bucked and thrashed as the line of bones lengthened, making a stubby tail long and an aching body longer. The rest of its form was struggling to play catch-up. Ribs pushed out against skin, vertebrae poking up in a garish path towards its head, all the growth making a skeletal nightmare out of the once-fluffy kitten. From the crunch of its muzzle, it was clear that its skull had some reshaping to do. It’s screams were muffled now, but slipped out with increasing fervor. A stubby snout morphed into a slavering muzzle, baby teeth gnashing into deadly fangs. Big ears were shoved flat against its head, paint dripping down in a waterfall over ringed orange eyes. The blindness only stoked its terror higher. The thrashing became horribly violent, dumping the familiar off the bed and onto the floor. Shreds of the sheets clung to razor claws as it howled in pain. And just when it seemed things couldn’t get any worse... … The familiar’s form began shifting. Getting bigger. Taller. Swelling from an already-stretched foot and a half of agonized cat to a five foot horror panther. And all it could do was roar.

~~~

                                                       ————

“There’s too much water coming in-!” “We don’t have enough lumber left for this-!” “We’ve just got to give it up and move people until the storm dies down-!” Shouts like these were barely heard above the deafening pounding of rain and thunder. The storm had come up so suddenly that a family’s roof caved in. Too much water, not enough time to put up spells. Aiden had been laboring alongside three other questors to get it fixed for hours- all to no avail. No matter what they tried to do, their magic sputtered out in the rain. The work just left them all shivering and upset. And, for whatever reason, Aiden was feeling sore. His chest in particular was bothering him. The more time he’d spent working, the more it was bugging him. He’d chalked it up to his lack of training as of late. Either way, it’d gotten bad enough that he needed a break. The questor took a moment to breathe, setting down a large wooden board. It was as soaked as he was, if not more so. Not the best for building at all. He sighed in frustration, swiping bits of loose hair off his face. He grimaced as his sopping hair stuck to his hands. Evidently, his waterproof cloak hadn’t helped. Revaew. This was horrible. As much as he liked water, he hated being drenched like this. They weren’t making any progress here. Looking to his companions, he opened his mouth to suggest they give it a rest- Only for a deafening roar to cut him off. Blue mist flared to life on his fists before he knew what he was doing, gaze instantly searching for the source. He couldn’t see anything through the driving rain, and hearing? He might as well have been underwater. What was that? Was it a monster coming into town? Now, of all times? A look at his companions yielded just as much confusion. “The hell was that?!” One of them shouted over the rain. “No clue!” Aiden called back. “Whatever it was, it sounds big and mad!” “Should we send someone over to check it out?!” Another yelled, gesturing towards the source of the noise. “Probably!” Aiden spoke up again, following their gesture. Was it on the same side of town as his house...? “Someone’s gotta take care of it before anythi-“ Another roar rang out through the rain. It was a horrid, desperate sound. A zing of pain tore through Aiden’s chest, stealing his words as much as the sound. He grimaced, gasping. What in revaew’s web was going- It was then that something clicked. The chest pain. In the middle of a storm. More work meant more time away from his familiar. His familiar, who got stressed when he… left… Oh. Oh no. The questor didn’t wait another second to process. He was off like a shot. Yelling an apology over his shoulder, he dead sprinted over the wet stone path. Puddles splashed freezing water all over him. From the way his boots slid with every step, it was a miracle he didn’t fall. The thump of his belt pouch on his hip was practically promising to leave bruises. But he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting back to his familiar. The third roar just made him pick up his pace. Dark house after dark house slipped by as he wove his way through the village. His place was on the edge.  For the first time since he’d moved here, he regretted picking a house so removed from the main square.

As aiden ran the final stretch to his cottage, the squelch of mud beneath his boots had never sounded sweeter. He was drenched, dirt splattered, and had a nasty scratch from bashing his arm into a mailbox, but he was almost there. Rather unfortunate that the sight of his home didn’t have the same effect. The windows were dark and empty. The next roar was so much louder now. In a flash of lighting, he could see something big zip past the glass. Oh Revaew- was that Roo? His chest was already aching, but it was downright painful now. Putting on one last burst of speed, he made it to the door before thunder started to rumble. The questor nearly slammed into it, gasping. Thanks to a short overhang over the door, he was out of the rain. … And in more than a little pain. His lungs heaved desperately. His legs were on fire. His bruised hip and scratched up arm were throbbing. His head, too, had decided to ache. Sure, he was here. But at what cost?  Maybe running that fast was a bad idea, he thought dully. However. It had gotten him there. And the mad dash was over. All he had to worry about now was getting inside. Adrenaline starting to wind down, he pressed an ear against the door. He could make out anxious yowling under the sounds of the storm. He flinched at a dull crash and thunk, grimacing at the accompanying cries. Yeah, he needed in. He needed in before Roo hurt himself. If he hasn’t already, he thought fearfully. Waving a hand from his head towards his feet, he muttered a quick spell. Water came rushing off him in waves. It sent a violent chill down his spine, but at least he wasn’t wet. After all, he wouldn’t be able to touch his son if he had rain clinging to him. Slowly, he took one more breath. He faced the door. A little grumble of thunder roiled across the land as he stared at the damp wood. One last hurdle to clear. His hand raised to take the handle. I’m here, Roo. With a soft click, the door slowly swung open. I’m home.

Everything was loud. Cold. Dark. So, so dark. No matter how many times it tried turning its head, how many directions it looked, everything was dark. It felt like it was suffocating. The loud rumbling and crashing wasn’t helping at all. The thundering of rain was grating on its ears. It couldn’t stay here. Lashing out, it roared again and again. Pleading- begging someone to come help. All that met it was pain as its paws and tail snagged on unseen assailants. They were everywhere! All around it! There was no way to run from them. And it tried. Oh, how it tried. It kept bashing into invisible walls. Smashing into obstacles. Roaring and thrashing and scrambling around in the dark. Slipping desperately into a new space, only to bash into something else. An unending nightmare with deafening sound. … Until something new cut through the cacophony. A creak. Long and soft, bringing a freezing draft with it. It froze, back arched. Fangs bared. Low yowls drifting from its maw. Smells tickled at its nose, but it was too worked up to identify them. All it knew was something had just walked in the door.

Aiden’s eyes widened in shock. Hand trailing to his face, he just… stared. He hadn’t known what to expect. Even with his memories of feral familiars, even after the pain in his chest, even after the shadows and yowls from inside the house… he had no idea. But he knew, instantly, what was standing in the darkness of his house. Or, more accurately… who. Roo. The questor stood silently in the doorway, across the room from a five foot long panther. Paint dripped steadily from every part of it, leaving streaks and puddles on the floor. Mangy fur stood anxiously on end. Fearful breaths hitched through deadly jaws. Though its eyes were covered in a waterfall of indigo, Aiden knew its gaze was on him. He didn’t know if he could move. The panther wasn’t budging either. They seemed to be at a standoff. But how long would this last? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? Someone’s gotta make the first move, Aiden thought grimly. Might as well be me. Holding his breath, he took a hesitant step forward. The panther’s ears flicked towards him. It curled its lips a bit higher, tail twitching. Aiden paused. Okay. One step at a time, then. Slowly spreading his hands, he tried for some words. “... hey roo. I’m back,” Aiden called softly. Where the step set the panther on edge, the voice received a warning yowl. Its spine curved higher, claws digging into the wooden floor. It looked like a skeletal fluffball with how much fur was puffing up. Aiden tried not to flinch. He just stood his ground. If he was gonna get through to Roo, he had to keep going. “It’s- it’s just Aiden, bud,” he tried again. “You know me. Nothing to be afraid of.” The name gave the panther pause. The sounds of driving rain seemed to fade as it thought. Aiden. Aiden. It knew that name. But… from where? Its brows furrowed, a halting yowl drifting from it. It wanted to keep the person away… didn’t it…? … then why did it wish they’d come closer? Aiden advanced a bit more. Gently, as the panther hesitated. Though it bristled again, it didn’t make any noise. It just crouched. Aiden eyed it uncertainly. “... you ok, Roo…?” he continued. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” The panther shivered. Meowed softly. Safe. It was… safe? The person… they… no, he was… was safe…? It’s tail curled around its feet. Nervous. Afraid. Aiden took another step. Nothing happened. Another. Nothing. Two more, and he’d be right next to the panther. He was almost close enough to touch it. Yet, he stopped. The panther couldn’t see. It was so afraid. He had to make sure it knew it was safe. He had to. “... roo…” he started softly, crouching down. “It’s okay. Really. Aiden’s here. Dad’s here. You’re safe.” The panther trembled. Another soft meow slipped out. A questioning sound. A skittish sound. It knew the person was right there. It wanted him closer. Please, come closer. Safety was nothing without him. Without… … without… Aiden. Silently, everything fell into place. Tears rose to Roo’s eyes. Aiden. Oh Revaew. Aiden. His body shook as he tried to process, little huffs bubbling out of his mouth. There he was. The familiar was back, but his fear had gone nowhere. It was still so dark here. He didn’t know what to do. He just shivered, pawing anxiously at his eyes. ‘Aiden?’ he tried to say, meows coming out instead. ‘D-dad? Aiden? P-please- please, i-i nuh-need help-’ The questor understood the moment Roo teared up. To call his sigh relieved might have been an understatement. He closed the gap without words. Pulling his familiar into his arms never felt so sweet. Roo latched onto him. Aiden did likewise. Just sitting there, quietly shushing the big kitty. “Dad’s here, Roo…” he murmured. He held Roo as his sniffles bubbled into sobs. “You’re safe…” He held him even as his painted form started running like a busted faucet. “You’re alright…” He held him as his body shrank down smaller and smaller. Held him as he morphed back into a scared little kitten. Held him as little paws clutched handfuls of his shirt. Just… held him. Eventually, Roo tried to speak. His little voice broke and mewled too badly to make out words. But Aiden knew what he meant. Cradling his familiar in his arms, the questor got to his feet. He shut the door with a small wave of magic. The mess could wait for the morning. They weren’t going anywhere but bed. Roo mewled again as he carried him back to the trashed bedroom. Aiden shushed him quietly. Gently. “You’re safe, Roodle,” Aiden hummed. “I’m here.” Carefully, he wrapped the kitten in a torn blanket. Good enough for now. Good enough to sleep. He settled himself up as best he could in bed. Just letting roo curl up on his chest, arms still cradling him. The rain was the only sound for a little. Ever present drumming from the sky. Roo dozed off easily.

After awhile, a bit of thunder rumbled over the house. Roo shivered in time, curling up tighter. “... mrr…” Aiden’s hand gently smoothed Roo’s fluffy fur. Tired. Half awake. But still determined. “I’ll be right here, Roo. Don’t worry.”

“You’re safe.”